Monday, June 29, 2009

My weekend adventures and a disturbing trend of newly married people I don’t understand.

First, I vow to take more pictures. It just makes posts more interesting. I went ahead and left my camera at work all weekend – so no pics – BUT henceforth I will be better at it. I don’t want to lose my 2 person readership!

This weekend was enjoyable. Mostly because the weather was BRILLIANT! As in brilliantly warm and happy. Not even a whisp of cloud in the sky. Not a whisp I say! At any rate – it wasn’t a terribly exciting weekend – but a nice weekend.

I finally got to go to the Farmers Market on Saturday. It’s been open for three Saturdays now, the previous two being “monsoon’ed” and thus not pleasant for the perusing and purchasing. Don’t nobody want to walk around in the rain… usually. I actually don’t mind it to an extent. June passed the “extent” after day 10 of consecutive rain rain rain. Lets not talk about it. At any rate, the Farmers Market. What a happy concept! Ironically the only “natural” food item I purchased was a 1lb bottle of honey. Num num num. And did you know there’s “no such thing as organic honey in America?” that’s what “honey guy” said. He said there’s really no way to prove that the honey bees haven’t been “messed” with, but they COULD say that they use no pesticides nor other non-organic means to sweeten or whatever it is they do to honey that makes it non-natural on their bee farm. Alright dude I believe you. I will take one pound. It really is good honey and YES I can taste a difference. Psh. I was also curious as to why he added the “in America” qualifier. Are European bees organic? Have they never been tainted EVER in the history of bees (so like – Noah’s Ark days) and thus the chance of you getting a chemically enhanced bee is less in France? Germany? Russia? I don’t see how they can prove that either. And can bees not be international? An American bee can’t buzz to London to visit his brothers, sisters, aunts, and former Queen mum (get how that’s funny? Bee’s have a Queen and the British have a Queen mum… ahem… it’s funny) Just sayin. I bet bees put in for international transfer. Something for Google. I also bought some locally made peachy soap from the soap-lady stand, a headband (of which I think I can make myself after examining it), and some UofU clay earrings. That’s right! Football season is upon us! Holla! All in all, good purchases.

I also played tennis with a friend on Saturday for many hours. I know, right? I’m really taking up tennis and I don’t think I’m half bad at it. Once I get the “volleyball” out of me; things went pretty well. I’m a veteran volleyball and softball player, both of which have techniques not helpful for tennis. It’s in the serving and the swinging if you can imagine. Also, because of the non-whispness of the beautiful summer sky, my shoulders got fried. DAH! I’ve been doing so well all summer to keep from frying and even acquired a nice glow that one week where the sun was actually out, but Saturday I thought “meh” I need some sun, perhaps I will forgo the SPF 30 and tan a bit. WELL! My arms were okay up until my shoulders, which are rather crab-red now. Gr. It’s painful – but I’m drinking mucho water and rubbing on mucho aloe-vera. Let us all pray together it does not peel.

And now to Sunday – a day in which I have discovered a disturbing trend in that strange concept called the Singles Ward. Singles Wards are weird anyway – good – but weird. I’ve hit a time now where I’m kinda “over it” but will continue to attend and participate until the day finally comes when I can move on. And whether that be because of the marrying or the turning of 31, I will most assuredly MOVE ON! Yes, that was a segway into the following: I’ve noticed that married people have started going to Singles Wards. Not the “leadership called” kind of marrieds like Bishops and counselors – oh no – like young single couples who just got married OUT of their Singles Wards still ATTENDING the Singles Wards. In the words of this generation: WTF?!??! No really. Why, in heavens name, would you get married and CONTINUE to attend a SINGLES ward. This is no longer the place for you! You have graduated, or rather, “moved on” to a different phase of church-going life. Your place is now in a family ward – full of marrieds – hence the qualifier SINGLES wards are full of SINGLES… the NON-Married. This is disturbing to me on many levels.

  • Level 1: The point of Singles Wards is to meet other Singles in the hope of marrying someone so you may get out of a Singles Ward. If you are married – then the point of the Singles Ward is now moot. I mean, that’s why they were created. Otherwise, we would all just attend the family ward we live in (which if you want my opinion we should just do that. I mean you’ll meet the same people but additionally, get to interact with a variety of age groups… anyway).
  • Level 2: It’s time to move on. Really, it is. I can't even believe you have to be told. You’ve had your stint in the Singles Ward – it’s been a good run – and it’s now time to press forward. I find this to be a real issue generally speaking. People are stuck in a rut – set in their ways – or 20 something Peter Pans (as Elder Oaks puts it) – and can’t just move on, press forward, progress, evolve, advance, whatever word you want to use. I’ve met (and gone out with) many Peter Pans whose dating patterns mimic that of my 16 year old little brother. But, that is a rant for another time. Let me say this: SINGLE PEOPLE! If you get married, then you can no longer go to your Singles Ward. And honestly – why the crap would you want to? Which brings up level 3…
  • Level 3: Why the crap do you want to stay here? I’ve had some very choice experiences in Singles Wards. They’re a very unique place where you can interact with those of your own age, in your same stage of life, and really build some meaningful relationships and experiences only to be had in a Singles Ward. But ultimately, everyone really wants out. There’s the meat market-esque mentality, the pressure of dating and being sociable, the “mix and mingle” activities, and you just hit a point where you’re done. You’re ready to move onward. And at age 31 OR when you get married, that opportunity comes around. There’s a purpose for this – and we need to believe that purpose is for our own good. There’s a reason the church has such procedures. And besides, don’t ya’ll get bored hanging with the same age group and talking about your same experiences? Isn’t it an exciting change when you can get married and go interact with others who are sharing your experiences? And for the 31 and ups aren’t you read to interact with a diverse amount of people in a variety of life stages: old folks, young marrieds, middle aged people, children, teenagers; I think it opens up so many opportunities that aren’t necessarily found in a Singles Ward. Married people! Come on! Move on! Go away!

Anyway, I find that disturbing, nay, even disconcerting. I know you think I’m kidding, that newly marrieds don’t actually come back to the Singles Ward, but my friends this is not an isolated case. I mention it because I’ve noticed a pattern. I’ve seen a lot of young couples do this… for many Sundays in a row. Just yesterday I saw a jeep that read “Just Married!!” and tastefully “Dominate Her!” (another WTF moment). But clearly these young folks were attending their Singles Ward, again, AFTER getting married and had the gaul to drive their “Just Married”, tasteless, and not washed yet jeep to church. I mean regardless of it being weird they’re attending a Singles Ward, there are many little tender hearts of a rip late 20’s age who probably do not appreciate your bouncing around their Singles scene in newly married bliss. Perhaps take a step out of “Planet-us” for a second. I hope this “return to the Singles Ward after being married” doesn’t become a trend. I know that if/when I get married I will happily move on from a Singles Ward into a family ward, where I should be, where I need to be, and where I OUGHT to be.

Friday, June 26, 2009

Alice in Wonderland

Look how great this is. Isn't this great? Of course it's the phenomenal Johnny Depp playing the Mad Hatter in the new Tim Burton adaptation of the classic Lewis Carroll novel; Alice in Wonderland. I just had to share the awesomeness of it. The Tim Burton/Johnny Depp/Lewis Carroll combo is pure genius. GENIUS I tell you. And this movie is going to be a total trip. I love Johnny, love Tim Burton, and have always been drawn to the whimsically dark side of fantasy and animation. It's one of my "quirks" you could say. Anyway, Alice in Wonderland, coming 2010. Here are a few more pics to increase your anticipation:

And a few more pics here.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

My Very First Pedi. Mwah. Cute.

It’s true my friends. I’m a country girl with country living in ‘er. Don’t do none of them pedee-cures they have now’a’days. No sir. I just dip my toes in cow poop and call ‘er a day!
Alright not true. If any of you questioned whether I really did dip my toes in cow poop, I actually didn’t… and don’t. I’m also not much of a country girl. Ha ha. Yes, I’m from Smallest of Small Towns, Utah. Yes there was a time when, as my roomie Nikelle describes it, I looked “country.” But really, after being a “city folk” for many a year now (and always knowing I wanted to be a city folk) I’m probably more just your every day urbanite now than I ever was a country gal. I don’t even like 98% of country music. Blah. Though, sometimes, my “countryness” still comes out, as in the instance of having never ever gotten a pedicure in my life. Apparently this is quite the scandal, and at age 25 too! Who knew?

Along with “country folk” naivety; I’m also not much of a super girly girl. Yes yes, I bath myself, do my hair, wear dresses and skirts, own an article of pink clothing or two, but not in an over the top super girly kind of way. I’m just a girl (Gwen Stefani). Pedi’s always seemed super girly and a little over indulgent to me. Sigh… I’ll come out and say it… I thought they were a waste of money. I mean, I can clip and paint my own toesy’s – and I do! Why would I pay someone else to do it?

Well, here’s why. Because it’s AWESOME. It’s not entirely the polishing that is “worth it” but the whole enjoyable experience. There is soaking and sugar scrubs and leg messages and of course, your toes look a bazillion times better than you could EVER have done yourself. Ever. You just don’t have the proper angle or steadiness of hand. No one does. That’s why you pay someone to do it for you. Other than haircuts, it’s the most indulgent thing I’ve ever done. And since haircuts for my super heavy hair are more a 6 week necessity than an indulgence, I don’t even count those. Pedicures though – OH! It’s no question I’ll be getting one again… and again… and again.

Another pedi personal note: This weekend was my mom’s Birthday, and she ALSO had never gotten a pedicure before. Now, this is a tad stranger because she is a girly girl, and has 23 years on me (gasp! I didn’t tell anyone your age mom! I can’t help it if they care to do the math!). Sure she rocks the biking and kick-boxing; but mainly she’s a girls girls girl. So having not gotten a pedicure seemed more scandalous for her than for me. THUS, for her Birthday, we both got our first pedi’s. And we both enjoyed them thoroughly. I spent the whole day and much of the next just admiring my toes. Would you like to admire them as well? Alright.. here they are… So my friends (of all genders and ages) if you’ve not experienced a pedicure yet, why don’t ya’ll go on down to your local seelon and done get yourselves one? You hea? I seen ‘em for $30 bucks at “Nailed.” Durnit! That be where I pert-near gots my toes done-did. Shewoot. They done nice work. Real nice.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Ultimate Frisbee: "Wow...that was sexy!"

It must be noted that last night while playing Ultimate Frisbee with a weekly group comprised of mostly dudes and a few chicas, I made the sickest catch ever! EVER! By sickest I mean best, awesomest, outstanding, freaking sweet, etc. Go ahead and insert any of those descriptors that best conveys to you the gravity of skill and awesomest involved in the catch I made last night.
Now, playing co-ed sports and being a girl, you have to prove to the dudes you can hack it. Being a short girl playing co-ed sports you REALLY have to prove to the dudes you can hack it, or you'll never be set, passed to, or allowed to bat. Also, after having to prove yourself a competitor, if you screw something up it takes DOUBLE the "awesome moves" to redeem you from said one tiny screw up. No, it isn't fair, but that's how it is, and so it goes. If ya wanna play with the boys, ya gotta show the boys you gots the skills.

I've honed my Ultimate Frisbee skills to an art. An ART I tell you. Well, meaning I've learned how to throw decently. I've always been able to run and catch, but throwing I only just learned last year. There's technique involved! Skill! A lot of wrist! Flicking! And quick decisions. What's really awesome is I'm realizing that though I felt only slightly competent when I was learning to throw from "a professional" (seriously, having watched a lot of other players now made me realize how seriously good my "coach" was), I feel pretty stinking good when throwing with average frisbee enthusiasts like myself. Sure we have that "one guy" the throws like he was born with extra flick in his wrists and the precision of Superman, but mostly, I'm on par with most of the players I play with... and happily most players are dudes (ha.. insert double meaning of "player" here). It adds a sweetness to the whole thing when you can chuck a frisbee better than a dude. Ha! Stupid dudes. I'll show you "scoot up."

On to the sickest catch of all time...

Picture if you will: I was running running running, headlong for the end zone and my team mates were bringing the disc (that's the "professional" term for frisbee... that's right... I'm using jargon) up the field quickly. One such super aiming sweet throwing dude gets the disc and turns to see me giving him the "go ahead and throw it to me NOW!" eye and he does just that. But what ho? Frisbee... er Disc is a great deal more ahead of me and "close behind" dashing opponent than I or Super thrower expected; but there's hope, for though it's a low quick long toss, it is curving more my way than "away from me" way. Translation: there. is. a. chance.

Running running... reaching reaching... disc is 7... NO.... 5 inches from the grass! It's so close! I'm so close!!! Opponent is on top of me!! I'm lowering my body closer to the ground in full sprint... reach out my short arm... grasp at the disc in a desperate effort... hoping its curve continues towards me just a smidge more.... AND!!! CATCH! SMACK into the ground! Fall into volleyball roll and pop up on my feet! What the?!? Where am I? Looking down. The disc is in my hand. One handed dive bombed awesome CATCH of COOLNESS!!! I completely surprised myself. At this moment I'm about 1 foot from the end zone so amid the "what the... how did she... did you SEE that?" comments from my dude opponents, I catch the eye of the other "just a girl" on my team hanging out in the end zone and lightly toss it to her. SCORE! We rock. Chicks rock.

Everyone is clapping and high fiving and one dude on my team, a football playing super fast athletic dude, says... almost reverently... "wow... that was SEXY!" It was, wasn't it? Super sexy and super awesome. I felt pretty freaky awesome about myself the rest of the game and played the better for it. I also got a lot more passes from dudes and made a few more decent throws. But it was that one sexy catch that allowed this shorty girl to prove herself able to hang with the dudes. Sexy is definitely the word for it. It was one sexy catch.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Everything restored… only better

Around this time last year (wow… really? That’s so weird), I was preparing for an adventure - an adventure that never happened. My… friend Steven and I were supposed to leave our comfortable Utah worlds behind and go teach/tutor two kids/teenagers in Europe while their father traveled on business. Free travel. Great paying job. And the opportunity of a lifetime. Clearly, this didn’t actually happen as I’ve been very much in the United States for the past year – however – I am not hear to again dwell on the “whys?” or “what the hells?” but rather, explain how though Steve and I gave up everything and took a risk on the idea of world travel and high adventure that ended up falling apart rather abruptly, we’re… well… I can’t speak for him… so I’M recognizing that I’m gaining all those things back that I gave up a year ago, only better.
For example:

  • Gave up: Great job at BYU Independent Study I very much enjoyed and adored all the people I worked with

  • Restored! Job at Utah System of Higher Education that I enjoy but also has the potential to turn into a “career” rather than a “job” and allows me to gain my education practically free of charge in a program I never would’ve even considered had I not been given the opportunity to be in this environment.

  • Gave up: Rockin furniture acquired from a former Jazz player at a freakishly ridiculous good deal.
  • Restored! Some great KSL pieces in a downtown apartment for close to the same freakishly good deal.

And now that I have you understanding what I mean through a myriad of examples… the point of the post:

Gave up: Lila – the kitty. She was given away with the furniture to a co-worker as I would be in Europe and had no where for kitty to go… (here is a kitty pic)Restored! Lila – the kitty. What!?!??! Yes. Tear. Sniff. We’re back together.

Isn’t that amazing? HOW – you are asking yourself – did you get your CAT back? Well, I’d like to call it a tender mercy… and a lot of luck. ;)

I was a little heart broken when I gave kitty away. I mean, after cleaning up poops, nurturing, feeding, playing, posting about kitty, and enjoying her general presence in my home, I created a bond with kitty. And having to give kitty away was very sad. Very traumatic. I recall giving her away and then sitting down and playing a few rounds of Mortal Kombat (in a furnitureless apartment) to ease the pain. I remember feeling a little panicky as well – “holy crap this is really going to happen... am I SURE about this?” but also feeling like it was all the right thing to do just the same (And yes, even after the fact I not only believe it was the right thing – but I absolutely know it was the right thing to do - and I’d choose to do it again). Kitty was gone – and I was pressing forward hoping to gain things I’d even spent my lifetime hoping for. Alas, little did I know it was not to be… not yet.

Well – almost an entire year later as my life is rebuilding and taking on more “normalcy” – I get a “comment” on my blog from the friend I had given Lila to. She and her husband are moving, she explains, and they can’t have Lila with them. Would I want her back? WOULD I WANT HER BACK!?!??!?! My little Lila? OF COURSE I want her back! Naturally I made sure the roomie was okay with said cat running about our apt – and to my surprise she was! I let my friend know that I would take her whenever they were ready to give her up – and not 3 days later – I was in my truck driving Lila from Provo to SLC. She was back. Of course I expected a very tearful and happy reunion. Why wouldn’t she remember me? I envisioned it much like that YouTube video of those Australian gents who raised a lion (aka Christian the Lion) in their backyard and then returned it to the wild just to reunite 10 years later and have the lion REMEMBER them. Seriously! It was on Oprah and yes, maybe I did get a little misty eyed. What of it? You should watch it if you haven’t – you’ll tear as well. Very touching. Ah yes… when I got her to my apartment – she would frolic about in happiness and cat-curiosity, happy to be “home” again. This was my vision.

Well, this was Lila the entire first day and much of the second:

Hiding under the couch, not eating, and a little hissy.

Though it was not the tearful reunion I had expected – on the evening of the second day she was much more comfortable with her surroundings and even scouted out her food and litter box (cleverly hidden away in our living room closet)

Now you see it

Now you DON’T!

And here she is right at home.

So… needless to say… last year basically sucked. Probably one of the most difficult years of my life in every way possible, financially, personally, emotionally, spiritually, but in the end, things are slowly coming back together. Things I gave up or lost are being restored, and I’m excited to see a few final pieces of “loss” find me again as evidenced in Lila. I mean, it’s one thing to go out and get a kitty again – but an entirely different matter altogether to get the exact kitty back I gave away a year ago - though she has grown into a cat now - and is the better for it. THAT’S pretty amazing. I guess we've both done some growing over the past year... and both have come out bigger and better for it. My “gave up” list above is very short considering everything that I lost. I also gave up (on) a too complicated and confusing “friendship” that caused probably the most grief (and growth) over this entire ordeal (it’s like “the kick” when you’re down – ya know?), but based on the pattern I’ve noticed emerging over the past 6 months, maybe that “kick me when I’m down” will turn into the icing on the cake soon. Everything else has come back to me only better, in some form or another. In the case of Lila, in the exact form I lost it. So, why not hope that the most important things I lost or gave up will come back to me too, in a different form, and absolutely better! I feel that. Feel it real good.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

When you know... you know.. and I know... with all my heart.

I didn’t go to BYU. What a way to start a post!! I just want you to know I didn’t attend BYU because what I’m about to say sounds very “BYU-esque.” I want to prove that this can happen to ANYONE regardless of their Utah college choice. True – BYU tends to spearhead the “come to college, find a spouse… try the Wilk or Library for best picks” stereotype. That’s probably because it happens there more than any other institution of higher learning in Utah (naturally it being the Church owned school and happy little LDS singles flock there with only two (sometimes just the one) purposes in mind – education and eternal marriage). Alright, so what in the crap am I talking about? BYU disclaimer? Marriage? Love? LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? Yes to all of the above. You may think it only happens to 18 year old pink cheeked blond ringleted BYU freshman (over and over and over again), but apparently it can happen to 25 year old brunette, University of Utah grads as well. Love at first sight. I mean… when you know you know… and I know. Ya know?

Here’s how it happened. I was not at BYU nor near the Wilk in any way. In fact, it wasn’t on any campus at all. It was in a dark room with a big screen and about 100 other people. I went into this with no expectations. I thought I’d see a few eligible, even good looking guys, be entertained, but not really “feel it” for anyone. It’s kinda how I roll – I find many a man attractive – but am I attracted TO them? Tis very rare. It really does take me some time to decide if I have interest in someone – and even then – I’m a bit of a “fence sitter” just to be careful. Like any of us – I’ve had my wee heart broken more times than I care to recall and thus it’s made me a fair bit more weary when considering taking a risk on someone again. The last one I dated I “sat on the fence” for quite sometime and when I finally plopped over onto the “OKAY! You’re awesome! I like you…” side. Well… he had plopped over the opposite side of the fence. C’est la vie. C’est l’amore. Buuuut now that that’s all healed up I’m willing to start looking around again. And I’m sure glad I did.

When I saw him I thought “ohhh…oh you’re… somehow cute.” Ya know what I mean? One of those guys that you aren’t quite sure if he’s cute or not… if you’re attracted to him or not? I mean he is clearly a cute boy, but is he cute to YOU? He may have funny ears or an odd hairline, but something about him, interests you. So, out of interest and curiosity, I kept my eye on this fella throughout the evening. Compared with the other guys hanging around him he was cool, logical, though still had feelings and emotions, smart, tall, dark, and handsome. He could handle regularly stressful situations with a calm and collected attitude; he was objective and thorough, ambitious but not over zealous, and is an aspiring Professor. He liked to explore and travel great distances. Hm. Alright, all attractive things for me. As I watched him interact with others around him, he seemed to never let too much get under his skin, but when it did, he was able to recognize that he was no longer able to objectively handle a situation, and subsequently removed himself from it. A man of humility! I dug further. He seemed like a strong and skilled man, yet gentle and kind. Gasp! Suddenly, I found myself growing more and more attracted to this man. It was unexpected, as it always is, but also exciting. Isn’t it amazing what you can find out about someone in a mere two hours? 2 hours!?!? I count that as love at first sight. After the event, I kept most of my feelings to myself – perhaps mentioning to a friend how cute I thought this new man was – but never fully indicating the level of attraction I felt towards him. After that evening, I saw him several more times during the week. I learned more about him. I watched him from afar, and up close. And finally, I realized I was in love. He was it! One of the most accomplished, attractive, and ridiculously smart and logical men I’d ever encounter and probably would ever encounter. When you know.. you just know! And I knew… and I’m not ashamed anymore! I’d like you to see my man… and you may not see him as I do… but I love him anyway.

Here he is… the “man across the Wilk”, the “love at first sight”… my BYU moment…

And again…

Sappy siiiiigh. It can happen to anyone I tell you!