Find Me a Find, Catch me a Catch…

Turns out none of you give a damn… darn… about my taking the biggest step towards accomplishing my three year long “run a half marathon” resolution. That’s fine. Just dandy. Thanks a whole heap.

Alright, I’m sure you “care” in the loosest sense of the term – as in “sure I care… I just don’t really CARE as in care, ya know?” or “I care… just not as much as I care about the depletion of the ozone or a cure for testicular cancer,” OR, “I care…but I care more about how your Mormon Matchmaker interview went on Friday so quit posting sub-par narcissistic posts about goals we’ve long expected you to fail and get to it!” Fair enough. Fair. E. Nuff.

First, here’s my outfit (gold sandals not seen – thus trust that they are adorable). My favorite part of this picture is my toothy T-Rex grin. Grrrrrr!

Dress - Target $25, Belt - borrowed from Jaime for the price of sweet sweet loving (way worth it), Cuff - Forever 21 $8, Earrings - Anthro $40 (any excuse! I BORROWED a BELT), Shoes, Piperlime - $17)

Note that I am first and foremost, not an avid picture taker for no other reason than laziness and second, most definitely not a “take a picture of myself in a mirror” picture taker; particularly if it starts taking longer than 8 minutes. That’s my threshold – if it takes longer than 8 minutes is it worth it? Ask yourself this question and see the efficiency in your life skyrocket.

SECOND, the interview went very well I’d say. In fact, I have long boasted that if I can get in for an interview (to anything) it’s likely I will get whatever it is I interview for unless Providence has other plans. The interview was mainly an expansion of what was addressed in the Skype interview they conducted nigh a month ago except this time it was in front of a white screen with two big bright lights, a camera, and interviewer. It was at this point I thanked my J-O-B for affording me the opportunity to have some experience with delivering a line on camera. I knew where to look (and where not to look), to start my answer with the question, but not in a Jr. High restate the question sort of way, and was able to interact with the interviewer pretty naturally for the most part. Plus, I like being the center of attention AND I once had dreams of becoming the next Katie Couric so you better believe I live my life for the few moments where I get the chance to act out what my life might have been had a pursued Broadcast Journalism instead of education. No regrets, though. No regrets.

There were a few questions that stood out… such as:

• So, do you think something is wrong with you and that’s why you’re still single?

a.       Answer – Absolutely not. I feel there is likely something wrong with the entire male populace rather than a single individual that is me. I'm a gem!

b.      Real answer – Of course I’ve wondered that. Any woman my age in Utah and not married (or dating) wonders if there’s something wrong with her. If she’s doing something wrong or needs to tweak or adjust her technique somehow that just might make all the difference in her dating life. Yes! And realistically, I must acknowledge that the common denominator in all of my dating experiences is, in fact, me. Thus, I must take some personal responsibility in the endeavor. However, I feel over the years those tweaks and adjustments I’ve made are bringing me ever closer to that ultimate dating goal…to stop dating forever... and I foresee only improvements henceforth. (I didn’t say henceforth – which I now regret. Nothing says “stick up your butt” like using a word like, Henceforth!)

•          Tell me about yourself

a. Answer - Well, lets put it this way, if I were a vegetable, I'd be a potato. Mull that metaphor over for awhile.     

b.    Real  Answer – Can I use my prop? (see Star Trek Encyclopedia)

c.      Response – Yes?

d.       Real answer with prop in hand – I am this that and the other. I am also stuff and things… bleh blah… BUT! What’s really surprising about me is how big of a nerd I truly am. I have here a Star Trek Encyclopedia to illustrate such nerdiness (raise prop in front of camera) in case you brush my of self-proclaimed geekdom as something “all girls say to appear cute.” Clearly,  my nerdery runs deep. Real deep. Let’s go ahead and add Xena: Warrior Princess, The X-Files (Scully is my home girl – yes I said it), and the Walking Dead to that mix and you’ve got yourself a bonified nerd. Don’t believe me still? NCC 1701-D. That’s the Star Trek the Next Generation Enterprise classification number. BAM. Re-pre-sent!

•          You told me once you think you don’t date a lot because guys are scared of you. Explain that.

a.       Answer – Screw you LOSER! (crazy eyes, flared nostrils) He he... was that scary? (maniacal laughter).

b.      Real Answer – Well Matt (his name wasn’t Matt… remember… I’m reenacting my possible alternative life that would’ve involved Matt Lauer somehow), I would say they are more intimidated than scared. And this actually isn’t a designation that I’ve put on myself, but mostly from what other people have told me. I can be intimidating – all 5’2 of me. Why am I intimidating? I’m not sure. It could be the education, it could be that I’m reasonably self-assured, it COULD be that I don’t…how do I say this… shy away from “smart” conversations. Example. Second date… guy said something about tax equity, and I responded knowledgeably (as well as respectfully disagreeing with what he’d said and providing reasons why I thought so.... I’m a discusser… not arguer) and I never heard from him again. Here’s why I’m okay being a little intimidating; because I know that the guy who likes me is confident in himself and doesn’t need an overly submissive type of person to make him feel superior. He doesn't need to feel he can "control" me to feel manly. He can feel manly because he likes himself. I feel it weeds out the ones I wouldn’t be happy with anyway. So, though I am very realistically aware that amiability is more attractive than a venom squirt to the eye, I feel I can amiably express my thoughts and a confident guy will appreciate it. Eh? Eh?...

... .... ....

•          Tell me what you think about love. Love is…

a.       Answer – Love is your mom. Haw. Haw. Your. MOM!

b.      Real answer – Love is companionship. It’s anything from having someone help you carry in the groceries – which ironically is when I wish for companionship the most, 6 bags per arm – to sharing the joys and the sorrows of my everyday. It’s someone to share in this "life" experience; a partner, and a comrade. It’s someone to lean on and someone who you want to lean on you when they need too. It’s taking two whole and complete people and making them two halves of a new whole.  That’s love to me. Love is facing the storms and rainbows hand in hand.

c.       Response – That’ s adorable

d.      Reaction – Well, if there’s one thing that could be said of me it’s “I’m adorable.”

So there’s a quick rundown of a 45 minutes interview. I felt pretty good coming out of it and again, have little expectations either way. I like this “no expectations” thing because I’ve yet to be disappointed but most definitely pleasantly surprised.

What now?

Well, they may or may not call me anymore from a week to six months. Given the outline of the show, apparently they will select a couple of folks for the pilot episode on through the first season and see how it goes. I could be called to participate first or somewhere towards the last or not at all. We shall see.

Oh… and

Lifetime.  It’s no TLC but meh, TV is TV, right? Right. So set that DVR!

I said I'd do it and I did

You may recall over the last 2-3 years I've made a resolution to run a half marathon and naturally, have never done it.

Well...

I guess I'm doing it.

In Park City on August 18th.

I finally got sick of failing.

Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me a Match…

Remember the outfit for the “event-that-must-not-be-named” I alluded to in my last post? WELL! First, and most importantly, the outfit has been chosen and I am quite pleased. I thank you for all of your opinions via bloggery, face-bookery, and textery. It’s been most helpful and naturally, the reason why I choose fashionistas to be a part of my circle of friends. You have served your purpose well.  Pics to be posted once I actually don the finished product later today. I know you're, like, soooo interested.

Second, I’m sure you’d like to know what the “event-that-must-not-be-named” actually is. You should know that typing that phrase with dashes is rather tedious and next, I am going to make this as annoying as possible by beginning at the beginning before I just tell you what the event is already! Hurray! I also hesitated mentioning this at all because I wasn't sure if I "could." But it's not been alluded to otherwise so meh, why not. 

I was born at 11:03pm on October 12th, 1983 to Cheryl and Bru...oh wait... not that beginning. 

Several months ago, a good friend whom we shall call Holly because that is, in fact, her name, sent me a little clipping (e-clipping? Erp) from the Salt Lake Tribune with the subheading “Coming soon to a TV near you: aMormon Matchmaker reality show” exclaiming I would be her hero if I attempted to be part of these shenanigans. After a moment’s deliberation, I figured becoming someone’s hero by merely submitting answers to a few questions for a reality show I didn’t know anything about was well worth it! Hero-hood here I come! So submit I did and have since enjoyed 3 months of being a hero. It's a good feeling. If you ever have the chance to "earn" titles you don't deserve by doing things that require little effort and no foreseeable consequences or sacrifice, I suggest you do it. 

 The submission only required answering three questions “in brief” which included “Give a brief dating history” and “describe your perfect mate in 3-5 sentences.” Naturally, me being me and thinking I’m clever and funny, answered these questions in such a way that would convey such effortless cleverness.

Example

Described your perfect mate in 3-5 sentences: For the perfect man, combine the following: Indiana Jones, Maximus (Gladiator), and Atticus Finch with a dash of Agent Mulder; make him Mormon and you’ve created my perfect mate. An academic but can flick a whip (don’t get weird – it just means he’s manly you kinky bunch!), loyal, humble, and a fighter; scrupulous, a good father, hard worker, and patient; and finally, passionate and focused... and tallish. Mm hmm. 

 Eh? Eh? Well it’s my perfect not your perfect mate so back yo'self on up. And truly – I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about “my perfect mate.” Perhaps that has something to do with creating unrealistic expectations... OR the fear of gross disappointment. If you always have “perfect” in the back of your naturally flawed mortal brain, you’re setting yourself up for some monster disappointments and life long dissatisfaction. Turns out, people aren’t perfect. However, I don’t think you should settle either.  Strike a balance. Must haves… would be nice… and deal-breakers.  As I’ve gotten older, those things I like in a potential "mate" have changed… so perfect in a mortal mind is fluid as well. Thus making it even more unrealistic to try and nail down. 

I digress.

I submitted my answers and continued with my day to day living.

About a week later, I received a phone call from the casting agency for the Mormon Matchmaker reality show wanting to set up a Skype interview. With me! I must say I was surprised and most definitely curious. Mostly I wondered how slim the pickins really were to select the “Indiana Jones” girl. Am I right? We set up a Skype interview for a week hence and when the day came, I chatted with one of their folks for probably about 45 minutes. Most of the questions they asked were elaboration on the previous three I’d already submitted with some additions like “Would you ever date a divorced someone” (yes of course) or, “how important is religion in your dating” (gonna go ahead and say that is the #1 won’t compromise sort of thing... acknowledging that fate could have other plans but that’s my plan now). He also asked things like “I’m not Mormon, tell me why you want to marry another Mormon” which I responded by basically bearing testimony of temple marriage and eternal families and how that’s the only option for happiness for me because that’s how I want to live, raise my children, and share in that journey with the most important person in the world for me (Gee... tell me how your really feel). Needless to say, I was beginning to realize that if this was something I had the opportunity to participate in, I would be representing  an entire group of people and anything I did or did not do would be attached to 14 million other Latter-Day Saints. Too bad Glen Beck has never made this connection. Juuuuuust kidding… ish. And of course, I don’t think that little old me on a reality show I don’t even know I’m on yet would affect someone’s perspective of Mormons; particularly considering brighter spotlights shone on more substantial figures like Mr. Romney. But it might affect SOMEONE’s perception and that makes me a little nervous. Rep-re-sent! I should stop intermittently swearing... dammit. 

After the Skype interview ended, I was thanked and told I may or may not hear from them in 1-4 weeks. Show-biz. Always on their timetable.  Thus, day to day living resumed much as it always had; with no expectation either way.

As luck would have it though – I received an email request for an in person interview right here in downtown SLC. Naturally, SLC also happens to be the location for filming said show so let’s not pretend that my current living arrangements in SLC don’t make me an appealing candidate. I mean I’m RIGHT here.

That in-person interview is today.

Thus you see the need to pick an outfit that is representative of MOI.

Expectations?

Once again, not really. Ha! Which is probably what’s gotten me to this point in the first place. I will say, however, I’m very curious. All I know is this is a reality show featuring Mormons and a matchmaker’s attempt to help us find eternal love. Sounds about right as Reality TV goes, but as for logistics; i.e. will it be one girl set up with many guys or one guy and many girls (Bachelor flash! NO!)  or many girls and many guys? Shrug. Dunno. I’ve been promised these logistics will all be discussed today.  I am naturally a little weary of the whole thing as well. Particularly when I think of disasters (addictive disasters I admit it) like the Bachelor and the… er.. “type” of girl they clearly choose for such entertainment. It is, after all, still about entertainment! I’m just not that girl. Perhaps I’m the Ace in the hole! The quirky one who everyone feels kind of bad for but hopes upon hope that she’ll find a nerd just like her in the end!  Or perhaps they’ll make me the goody two shoes that everyone “aw… how sweet's (pat pat head head)” at her blatant naivety to things of the world. I also wonder if such a venue is somewhere I actually want to find someone to marry. If there’s one thing you can count on – it’s not to count on everyone being themselves in front of a camera. I’ll sure try my damnedest...er... darnedest, but if any research has told us anything about social experiences and attempting to make unbiased observations of groups of people’s mating rituals, it’s that you can never be sure if what you are getting is authentic or always tainted but the subjects knowledge of being under constant observation. "Act natural..." er... the first way to make me not act natural is to tell me to act natural. No one actively thinks about acting natural.... when they do it comes off as unnatural. Oh irony! I already know I’m going to be more aware of ME when it comes to representing my faith on a greater medium than my day to day interactions; so who knows how authentic I'll be. Or maybe this is a way to get me to step up a little bit more and represent a little bit better. To become the me I should be becoming anyway. 

I also think to much. So there's that.

All I DO know is that I have a really great outfit that represents my style and a Star Trek Encyclopedia and/or the complete 7 seasons of Star Trek the Next Generation on DVD (thanks, Jon and Pete!) as my prop(s) of choice. Already this is looking like a win-win scenario. Right?!?! Wish me luck!

How to have a Day of Excellence

A couple of weeks ago, my roomie and I decided to create a day encompassing everything we felt necessary in making a day excellent. It seems there’s this notion floating out there, likely released to the world through the media via chick flicks, chick books, and anything doing with chicks, that if a woman wants to make a day truly excellent, it requires  a stack of goopy and clichéd films, buckets of ice cream, and fuzzy pink slippers. Ironic side note; 98% of media execs from all major networks are men. Just sayin… that’s where this “chicks do this” culture comes from. Uh-huh.

Based on this notion, I’ve found myself suggesting to other chicks, “hey… lets put on pink slippers, plunk ourselves in front of the TV, and scarf buckets of Ben and Jerry’s all day! Doesn’t that sound great?!?”

Well actually, no it doesn’t. It never really has. Why have I let this cultural notion of "chick days" destroy my ability to truly have a day of excellence filled with all of those things that make me feel good? Being fat and lazy - does not make me feel good. That is not a good day to me! The days I find most excellent have a few elements that don’t have anything to do with Mr. Ben and certainly not Jerry. The days I find most excellent are usually productive, involve some sort of work out so I can feel good about myself, good food (thus the workout), and good company. But then again I’ve never been a very true to form representation of anything culturally “chick” (as opposed to chique – which clearly ;)) so I may have lost some of you at “it doesn’t include Ben and Jerry.”

For those of you still left, I’d like to present to you a day of excellence contrived and planned (because any excellent day must have a plan) by the roomie and I.

Observe.

THE DAY OF EXCELLENCE

Presented in 6 phases

Phase #1: Rise and Shine

6:00am. We were awake and beginning my first round of BikramYoga. This goes against “chick” culture because with any day of luxury and excellence, it’s assumed you’ll want to sleep in until all hours of the noon-day. Not us. Though there are mornings where my feet feel ensconced in cement shoes, I actually really enjoy mornings. Therefore, to begin the day early was a perfect star to this day of excellence. HENCE - 6am Bikram Yoga follow by a good swim. (aside: have any of you done Bikram Yoga? Okay... so.... okay. I'm the least flexible person you know. I guarantee it. Your dad is more flexible than I am. Your dead great granny (dead or alive) is more flexible than I am. Also, I sweat. I don't glow like a lot of women do (or claim...psh) I full out sweat. Buckets! When I workout. So couple that with my inflexbility and you have quite the pathetic production via Bikram Yoga. Would I do it again? YES! It was GREAT! Despite the fact I looked like I'd jumped in a swimming pool in the end, I did feel a little taller. Hot dog!)

Phase #2: Food Stuffs Part A

After our invigorating morning, we proceeded to ready ourselves and then headed over to the Wild Grape for Brunch by 10:00am. Two reasons why this choice was awesome: 1) I love breakfast food all times of day and 2) I'd never been to the Wild Grape (on South Temple; between E and F street). Hurray for new things! Also, I’m already loving this day simply because I got up, did Yoga and swimming, got showered and ready, and am sitting down to Brunch and it’s only 10:00am! Effective use of time just makes me all giggles inside. I had the Grape's Benedict (placed upon sweet sweet porous fluffed corn bread) and roomie had the Black Forest Omelet. Couple that with some peppermint tea and you have two very fat and happy ladies. Wait! Not fat! We worked OUT! Back pat for me... back pat for roomie.

Phase #3:  The Chickiest Part of our Day - Mani's and Pedi's

Next on our day of excellence was, of course, manicures and pedicures at Mid-City Salon. And if there’s one thing better than mani’s and pedi’s, it’s having a Groupon for said services.  You best believe there was bubble gum pink and sparkly purple involved in this particular venture. I guess we are truly chicks at heart. 

Phase #4:  Matinee

There’s not anything I enjoy more than a matinee. I have always enjoyed going to the movies, but a matinee is something particularly magical. It’s cheaper and it’s in the middle of the day. I feel the matinee symbolizes true balance in life. If you can take time out of the middle of your day once in awhile and just sit for two hours, working through a Junior sized bag of popcorn and soda, and be entertained, I consider your life a success.  Yep. That’s all it takes.  And might I emphasis the JUNIOR size bags of popcorn. America is obese and I for one, blame our exorbitant portion sizes (and individual choice but that's another blog post for another day... a rant type of day). In fact, I find the term “portion size” a bit of an oxymoron in the US of A because the troughs people snarf through morning noon and night is anything but portioned. This goes for the tubs of popcorn and vats of soda sold for 50 gold dabloons and your daughters virginity at movie theaters. However, the Junior size of soda and popcorn, likely meant for toothless babes with a bright futures as a 9 year olds with Type 2 diabetes, suits me perfectly. I’d go so far as to say… it’s portioned. Wha?!?!?

Matinee… we saw Chronicle and I don’t know if it was because I hadn’t heard much about the film or because I had no expectations OR because I had mentally prepared myself for some painful endeavor like The Vow, or all of the above, but I really enjoyed it and highly recommend it. Go to.

Phase #5:  House Cleaning and Food Stuffs Part B

After the matinees, roomie and I went home and cleaned our house in preparation for a ladies dinner we were preparing for that night. Going out to eat is probably one of my favorite things to do; and it’s not just about the food. It’s enjoying the company of friends among other people who are also enjoying the company of friends over great food and conversation. But as much as I like going out, I like cooking dinner for company even more. And I say company because that’s what old(er) people call it when other people are coming, “we’ve got company coming”, and thus I’d like to keep the term alive. Honey, get dressed, we have company coming. Dearest, please don't use the term "douschery" in front of our company. 

When our ladies arrived for our ladies dinner for ladies (in the non-ladies of the night sense… erp), we had displayed for them a food setting of epic proportions!

• Appetizer: the Greatest Caesar Salad Ever Made (roomies title, not mine) and Caprese Salad
• Sides: Gourmandise rolls... mmmm... Gourmandise rolls
• Main Dish: Sun-dried tomato angel hair pasta with white wine marinera and goat cheese (you heard me!) Via Giada De Laurentiis recipe found here.
• Dessert: Gourmandise Tiramasu cake slice, the Peach, and a Fresh Raspberry Cream cake slice
• For Drinks: Sparkling Cider in legit wine glasses for some, and a Pinot Grigio white wine for others  

Let’s just say, we don’t do things half-assed.  Ever.

Phase #6: The Cool Down

After stuffing ourselves silly, we proceeded to pour more beverage, light a fire in the fireplace (where else?), and watch one of my all time favorite chick flicks, all be it favorite movies ever: Return to Me.  What better way to end such an excellent day of excellence, nay, indulgence and frivolity! than with 110 minutes of David Duchovny. I ask you!

That night, tucking ourselves in at a reasonable 11:00pm, roomie and I congratulated ourselves on a day well planned and well executed. In fact, we vowed that we should plan such a day at least once a month simply because we enjoyed ourselves so thoroughly in every way. This day, for me, was a recipe for success from start to finish. We did everything in a day that I find not only relaxing and enjoyable, but also productive and efficient. Two things I highly value in my excellent days.

How about you? What does your day of excellent look like? And if you say pink slippers, a stack of chick flicks, and Ben and Jerry’s, I won’t judge you. Truly. 

The Lazy Period is at an End

When I finished my MA degree in August, I vowed that the first thing I would do was nothing. And I am happy to say – that’s exactly what I’ve been doing ever since. Now don’t get me wrong. I still went to work, worked out sometimes, ate food, and slept. I also watched Season’s 1-7 of the X-Files (seasons 8-9 are crap), read a few books, meandered around the house, went to some movies, and enjoyed the holidays. Anytime I started to feel like I should do something more; develop a talent or find a hobby, the little withered school imp in the back of my head would rasp “noooo…. Laaaaazy period…. Stiiillll… more Mulder…” It honestly didn’t take much coaxing to extend my lazy period through the end of the year.

But the end of the year has come and gone and it’s time I started being useful again. Don’t worry; it’s not like I’m begrudgingly dragging my sorry arse off the couch to finally accomplish something like laundry or organizing my shoes. It’s because I’ve rested the good rest and now want to contribute in a more meaningful way to life. It’s important to contribute. I think a lot of things can count as “contributing” so long as it doesn’t involve long periods of inactivity, slumping, and starting season 1-7 of the X-Files over again. Which I’m not. Just so you know. I'm a Downton Abbey girl now! Oh snap.

I also noticed throughout my lazy period that I finally had the ability and brain capacity to consider doing things, and even some stuff. During the undergrad, I was poor and busy. Between undergrad and grad school, I was poor and drifting. During grad school I wasn’t AS poor but way more busy. What I’m saying is, the brain power and emotional contributions of expanding outside the realm of papers and bills was all I’ve been ensconced with for the past 10 years of my life. Dash some personal distractions and barriers in there and focusing on anything else but keeping my head above water seemed ludicrous. It’s Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. You can’t focus on the next level until you’ve achieved the one below it. Picture!

I’d say in those ten years I had vacillated between safety needs and social needs... heck... sometimes between physiological needs (I was a squatter there for awhile) and safety needs. I’d like now to move on and vacillate between social needs and esteem. Not that I have low self-esteem. I think I’m hilarious and consistently  adequate to awesome. I think that’s intended to be more broadly termed; say, self improvement and progression rather than “I like myself”. Being confident in your ability to press forward and to accomplish worthy goals is more to the point in my mind. Eh? EH?!

Better Picture!!

SO!! All of those darker, busier, emtionalier (erp) things behind me… regular adult job securely in hand… I am ready to end the lazy period and start using my brain for things that I want to do because I want to do them. I’m ready for the next level!

Here’s how it’s to be done. Now listen, these are baby steps. Much like my resolutions were on lack luster side of ambitious, I must ease into this new level on my way to self-actualization if I am to not feel overwhelmed and drop into one of those lower levels again. What I’m saying is, I never over-achieve, rather, regularly achieve. I’m okay with this.

Everyone has the “thing” that they do. Ya know? There are the crafty ones, the creative ones, the cooking ones, the jump roping ones, etc.  I tried to think of the activities that I truly enjoy and would like to become better at and the most obvious one was physical health. I like to eat well, work out, and enjoy playing sports and sweating. Therefore, as part one to the end of the Lazy Period I am not only going to continue my workout regime – but increase upon it towards a goal. What is that goal?

Half Marathon.

No really. REALLY! I have the time, the energy, and the mental capacity to wrap my head around a half marathon so I’m going to do it. I’ve considered the Salt Lake Half and I know that’s probably something that needs to be decided on sooner rather than later. Here’s my issue with the Salt Lake Half. It’s in April. Which is soon. And not that I don’t have time to train, because I do, but I LOATHE running in the inversion and the cold. LOATHE it I tell you! However, in training for the SLC half running outside in the cold and yuck is inevitable. So there’s that. THUS, I’m looking for a half that’s later in the summer. I’ve considered the Timpanogos Half as it’s in July. I've also heard good things about Bryce Canyon Half.  I need to do more research, but if any of you runners out there know of a good half for a beginning half-marathoner that falls between June-October… holla at yer gurl. Haaaay.

I’d also like to attempt a sprint Triathlon.

My roommate also happens to be Wonder Woman (right?) and does Triathlons. Well, there’s a Triathlon being held in ye olde Emery County (my origins) and I’d like to give it a whirl. I can run. I can bike. I…. need to work on the swim. I know how to swim… I just don’t know how to breath properly nor have I ever done swimming for exercise/set distances. SO! Luckily having Wonder Woman as my roomie, I’ve coerced her into teaching me how to swim properly. Then! THEN! I shall sign up for the San Rafael sprint Triathlon! Go me! GO!

Next, I have decided not to eat like a disgusting person anymore. Mainly, I have a capacity for cupcakes, cookies, brownies, and all things chocolate that is likely responsible for the constant layer of chub spread over my belly. No good. Therefore, not only have I set a goal to kick refined sugar to the curb, the roomie and I (Wonder Woman… still) took our jiggly arses to Costco this week and stalked up on all type of produce and deliciousness. But it does not stop there. We then proceeded to plan out our meals this entire week. Here we are at Thursday and I am VERY pleased to announce, we’ve stuck with our food plans quite well. However, as the weekend approaches with its promise of social gatherings that involve all things evil and delicious, I must screw my courage to the sticking place and press forth! It will take stamina! It will take heart! The weekend will NOT destroy MY attempts at thwarting what I’ve now dubbed the “Andrea Fatty Girl” phase. Bring. It. On!

The last bit of ending of the lazy period attempts I’d like to share with you involves crafts. Wait, WHAT?!?! We’ve already talked about this. I’ve never been one to craft and for years I figured it was because the thought of spending hours to make or modify something when I could go to the store and buy it seemed irrational and downright ridiculous. Turns out, that wasn’t it at all. It was because I didn’t have the creative energy to spare on that delicate all be it self-satisfying hobby known as crafting. Who knew it gave one such a sense of pride? Accomplishment! Nay, self-aggrandizement! WHO KNEW! All you crafters out there knew. Psh. Thanks for sharing it with the rest of us.

Thus in honor of “the craft” I present to YOU! Mittens.

First, you'll want to find an old sweater of your own and/or find one at  the DI. I found this one at the DI.
You should then outline the mitten, making it about 2 inches "bigger" than you might otherwise think. That way, if you mess up it's easy to fix; i.e. make smaller.

I recommend sewing the mittens before cutting them out. It makes the whole process easier and less risky. Sew around your outline, then cut them out. Turn them inside out and VOILA! Easy as pie. I added the buttons from the sweater onto the mittens on my own. I must say, I'm rather proud of myself.

I got the idea from A Beautiful Mess. Check 'er out.

You will also notice I’ve taken pictures of something I’ve done. What the?! Who am I? A picture taker now? Right? RIGHT?!?! Finally ending my lazy period turns out to be one of the better decisions I’ve ever made. Suddenly, I’m a crafter who wants to run Triathlons and take pictures of crap! I have a feeling, this transformation is only just the beginning. Stay. Tuned. I will be self-actualized before you know it! 

It Ain’t No Stuart Little

Mouse! In the house! More like mice… but that didn’t rhyme so I had to stick with the singular there. Never the less; we have mice!  In our HOUSE! Pretty gross, right? Only gross because they are diseased ridden little varmints that scurry and scratch and dart and poop. Other than that, I find them kinda cute. What? How many movies/TV shows/literary characters can you name off the top of your head that showcases an adorable wee mouse and his or her mousey adventures?

• Stuart Little – Duh
•   Fievel Mousekewitz
• Mickey Mouse – duh
• Minnie Mouse – naturally
• Mrs. Brisbee
• Mighty Mouse! 
•   Basil of Baker Street aka the Great Mouse Detective
• Benjy Mouse and Frankie Mouse from a Hitch hikers Guide to the Galaxy
• Bernard and Miss Bianca – the Rescuers!
•  Chuck E Cheese
• Itchy – Itchy and Scratchy Show
•  Jerry – of Tom and Jerry
• Mr. Jingles – the Green Mile
• Pinky and the Brain
• The Three Blind Mice

Am I right? So though I understand people’s dislike of mice because of their carrying such diseases as the Hanta virus… which I just looked up and am now sufficiently freaked out!  Sometimes WEBMD is a blessing and a curse, am I right? But just in case I do contract the Hanta and effectually DIE like 60% OF THOSE WHO CONTRACT IT THROUGH MOUSE EXCREMENT…. I bequeath my book collection to Jaime, my clothes to Camille, and the $170 I have in my checking account to brother Nick. He’s a poor student and could use the help. The rest of my goods I expect to be sold at auction and the moneys given to the Fight Against Hanta Virus Non Profit Organization. I’m sure it exists somewhere. 

Anyway… what was I saying before crafting my living Will? Ah yes, how diseased rodents are kinda cute.

I first discovered our little mouse problem while watching an X-Files (Season 7!!) at home one night. I caught the varmint out of the corner of my eye as it skittered out of the fireplace and under our wood pile thing (scientific term). At first I thought, “If that was a huge spider, I’m moving out tonight!” And I rightly would have until the rodent made an attempt for the bookcase and I could see it was a little gray mouse instead of the eight legged creatures of my nightmares. Phew! Relief! I really hate moving.

Which brings me to another tangent…

On top of MICE problems we’ve also been combating a “spider in the tub” issue and I tell you I am an exhausted wreck because of it! I can’t take it! I have a very bad case of Arachnophobia and having to face some disgusting scurrying eight legged nasty first thing in the morning is not the “wake me up” I prefer. Oh gag. Oh loathing. I freaking hate spiders. FREAKING! In fact, my attempts to work out in the morning have been very successful with the promise of a spider free facility shower. This is me being more optimistic. Seeing the silver lining in my NIGHTMARES! How’d I do?

So now with both a spider and mouse problem – we decided it was time to kill the suckers. Kill ‘em real good. We called an exterminator who scheduled an appointment for Monday morning.Little did we know we were about to face the longest weekend of our lives. 

My poor roomie Alex made the decision to call the exterminator when she discovered that the mice had been having a Fiesta in her bedroom closet. She keeps protein and energy bars in a basket on the floor. Energy bars! And the FLOOR! So not only had these sneaky mice found the foody jackpot, they were all hopped up on complex carbs! “Hey fella’s! Look what I can do!” as he propels his fur-ball body from clothes hanger to clothes hanger, shitting as he goes. And boy to mice shit!! EVERYWHERE! Always! What’s more, do you know mice can procreate at 6-8 weeks old? Slut-mice! AND! AND! They can dump a 10-20 (TWENTY!) varmint liter in as little as 4-6 DAYS! What the hell?!?! So we could have great, great, great, Granny  Mouse leaping around hopped up on energy bars in as little as 2 weeks! This could only spell one thing, major anxiety and gross infestation.

Still, with images of Stuart Little and Mrs. Brisbee in my head, I convinced Alex to try the “humane” little traps first. Ya know, those little boxes you can catch them in and then take them to a field where they may roam free as wild mice! When those proved a complete failure, she opted for the glue sheets.  No mercy. Upon laying down glue sheets in her now completely cleaned out closet (full of gaps and holes by the way – yep – we were just asking for it! Come on in mouse! The front door is wide wide open… so is the back door and side door and a couple of windows… oh… and here’s some food within reach too). This was at about 5pm Saturday afternoon. I came home from a baby shower at 6:30pm and found a squeaky mouse struggling on a glue sheet. It was kinda sad and also kinda an internal vindication. I picked up the glue sheet (that’s right! I’m bad-ass) and walked Granny Mouse out to the garbage. Don’t worry, I prayed later that her death would be quick… she would fall asleep in the winter night and freeze. That was my hope. 

Alex came home and I told her of the adventure. She promptly went to lay down another sheet and just as she was placing it on the floor… FLYING MOUSE!!! It leaped out of a hole and face planted onto the glue sheet. Mouse #2’s attempt to flee was easily thwarted and leaving Alex to her panic attack, I walked  Papa Mouse out to join his hooker mother in the garbage can… a brief prayer to usher him in. Two mice in 3 hours! Didn’t bode well. The next day, Sunday, when we came home from church… Alex came running out of her bedroom because one of the sticky papers was gone. GONE? How could it be gone?

Here’s how…

TWO MICE! TWO MICE had fallen onto the glue trap and one of them had only stuck by its hind legs. With his front legs, he was attempting to drag them both to safety, “I can’t carry it for you! But I can carry you!” A fool’s errand! And as a picked up glue sheet three, he knew his struggles were in vain. I plopped these next two in with the others before them, making note that the other two from the night before were definitely dead. This made me feel a little better though at this point I was considering putting their heads on pikes and sticking them in front of crevices and holes around the house as a warning to other mice. Keep away! 

Instead, we opted to hold out for the exterminator and come Monday morning, he came galloping up on his white horse and placed “poison blocks” strategically around the house. He guaranteed us that if we saw a single mouse within 10 days they’d come back and dispose of them again. They ALSO said if we saw more than 6 (SIX?!?) spiders within 10 days they’d come back. They sprayed all around the house AND extra in the bathroom. I asked Alex if she gave him a big hug and slobbery kiss from both of us. She said she seriously thought about it – then felt weird. I said he probably gets a lot of love from a lot of ladies ALL THE TIME. That sly dog. 

So we shall see if the pests are good and taken care of. We shall also see if we start manifesting flu like symptoms centralized in the lungs in the next 2-3 weeks. If that happens, I bid you all a fond adieu with this advice: Screw Stuart Little! Just kill the bastards.

Home is Where the Heart is... and where loads of carboard boxes are NOT!

I've lived a lot of places since I was 18. What's ironic, I spent the first 18 years of my life in the same town, living in the same house. Since then, I've probably moved oh... over 15 times over 3 locations: Ephraim (Snow College!), SLC, Provo, and back to SLC. It's the nature of the single person to migrate from apt to house to mansion to apt to Aunt's basement in Taylorsville over the course of their young, mid, and yes, even later 20's. We're a nomadic breed whose roots can only be convinced of sticking by such things as marriage, buying a house, and also... marriage. Otherwise, as single adults we move for school, we move for roommates, we move for money, we move for the hell of it, and we move again just for good measure.

However, such movings tends to wear on a person. Wear on them real good. You hit an certain age (27! 27!) where you are ready to just stay put for heavens sake! And I am most definitely at that age. Moving for me used to be another adventure - but recently (say in the last 3 years and 3 places I've lived) I've about HAD IT. True - my expert boxing (the cardboard kind) skills as well as my affinity for being a minimalist have all derived from my many many MANY moving experiences. And though I feel these skills are valuable, I'm ready to stay unboxed and acquire a knick-knack or two.

All that said, I move last month! HA HA! I moved from a single bedroom wee apartment in downtown SLC to a house... a LOVELY house... an adorable house in Sugarhouse. Well, it's bordering on "Sugarhood" if ya know what I mean; but never the less. I moved into a house. My friend and now roomie Alex bought a house (roots!) and I, being the single person who first, wants to save more money because living alone is hella expensive, and two, is sick of living in apartments, moved in with her to help with the mortgage. A genius notion if you ask me: buying a house then finding a couple of suckers to pay it off with you. I have hopes that will be me by the time I'm 31. Yes, turns out I've now pre-planned to move. Alas!

I'd like to show you the befores and afters of our house. It's taken us about a month to finally get most everything in place and unpacked. Observe:

Moving Day

I've mainly shown you the living room, sun room, and my room. You can imagine the rest of the house was just as disastrous and albeit overwhelming. Looking at all those boxes would even give the calmest person an eye twitch. It's a 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom house brimming with personality and quirks. That's just how I like my houses... and my men ;) Brimming with personality and quirks.

Now for the "afters." Prepare to be awed!

Moved IN!

And there you have it! A run through of the basic enjoyments of the new and lovely house... plus scooter. Doesn't Holly (that's the Scooter) look right at home? She sure does! All teal and cute with her little tire saucily tilted to the side. Aw. I hope you enjoyed the e-tour of the new house.

And there you have it. It's not the entire house, but it's a good majority of it. There will naturally be a house-warming party for to christen said abode and many parties after that. Alex and I are both HUGE fans of parties and even BIGGER fans of HALLOWEEN! The greatest holiday for the greatest parties ever thrown! And you best believe we'll be putting that Zombie door to use... shudder. 

I also vow here and NOW Internet, I shall NOT move again. No! I shall not! Unless one of the following things should happen:

1. I get married (snort.. ha! I'm solid for at LEAST 5 years)
2. Alex gets married (more likely... but not SUPER likely in the next year? Hopefully?)
3. I move away to get a PhD (Snort again! At LEAST 2 years)
4. I buy a house
5. The Zombies in the basement rise up and eat us...
6. The Zombies in the basement rise up TO eat us and in our epically violent struggle to free ourselves from their grasps, we burn the house down.

I'm going with #3 as the most likely scenario. Here's to ROOTS!

One day more! Les Miserables and a Trip to Charleston. Somehow, they connect.

Amidst all the Les Miserables contesting, I have yet to blog about my 6 day venture to Charleston, South Carolina. A gross oversight, but one must prioritize, am I right? And a coveted Les Miserables ticket seemed a more demanding task considering the deadline. And since we’re talking about Les Miserables, let me just say it was amazing, OF course, and I think my bless-ed companion enjoyed it as well!

Here he is in a picture with people he doesn’t know and me. How’s that for almost "background creeper got in our picture randomly?" Poor Pete. But he's HAPPY! That much is obvious.

And here’s one of my family – aren’t they a lovely family? What I like most is that brother Nick and brother Seth called each other before hand to see what to wear. They wanted to make sure they matched. Cute, eh? So cute.

As far as the production itself: incredible, amazing, and awe-inspiring. Truly I love the story, love the music, and love the changes and adaptations they made for this 25th Anniversary production. Nothing was amiss and all was as it should be. I’d also like to give a shout out to the wonders of CGI in such productions. It fit nicely without taking away from imagination and individual perspective. Bravo! And as always, Eponine is my favorite character, the one I identify with most. I may have to tell you why sometime… but now…

ON TO CHARLESTON!

Ahem.

So, why Charleston? Well I expect that most of you know that Charleston (like Salt Lake City thank you very much) is one of the U.S’s most desirable cities to live in (which I couldn't find a site for so I may have just made it up...). Did you also know that SLC and Charleston also boast such awards as the “best looking people” in the US as well? I find this ironic for two reasons – one: as many of you know SLC was pegged as THE VAINEST of the VAIN Cities in the US according to Forbes magazine; citing our exorbitant amount of plastic surgeons to population ratio, as well as our ridiculous expenditures on cosmetics, self-help books, dietary supplements, etc. I admit, in SLC I feel I’m an average looking girl (at best), faced with an intensely high expectation of “beauty” I find not only impossible to maintain, but not entirely worth my time. I have such things as school, work, sleeping, and grocery shopping to pencil in as well, ya know? When I travel outside of Utah, my confidence increases greatly as I find I get more attention (gentlemanly kind… there’s a difference between cat-calls and a double take good sirs) and feel that everyone has a few more things to worry about than making sure their mascara is just-so every morning. I don’t function in extremes – so if you’re going to say “Oh sure! You want us to be ugly furry people who smell like sour milk and cat breath?” Clearly not. Moderation my friends – prioritization and all that. Anyway… aside. I feel SLC beauty can be highly superficial and that’s become the standard of beauty – faux-beauty.

Secondly, however, in Charleston I noticed there were a lot of good looking people but these good looking people seemed to exude a more natural beauty. They of course all had beautiful clear skin I’d attribute to the balmy moist climate and mucho amounts of sunshine rays increasing their Vitamin D which would give any one a twinkle in their eye. But also, I feel there was a quiet confidence about these good looking people that projected outward in a “I like myself” way rather than a “I have to be hotter than that person and that person and that person” sort of way. SLC’s vanity keeps up with the Jones’s… Charleston’s good lookingness finds beauty in living and walking and being rather than buying. But hey, I was only there for 6 days and I’ve lived in SLC for 7 years – so perhaps I have a better handle on the SLC vanity pulse than I do in Charleston. It’s just my “first impressions.”

And the impressions got better and better!

I flew out there to spend time with my old roomie Nikelle who moved out there this time last year as well as enjoy the beauty, food, and humidity of the South. Let me tell you how Nikelle and I have been roomies (with a few gaps here and there) for close on to 5-6 years. That’s a pretty significant time to have a roomie and not want to smother them in their sleep. Am I right? And with a free place to stay in one of the most desirable cities in the US, not to mention after a semester of death and months and months of cold wetness, it was time for a leisurely vacation across the country. That always cures what ails me. I've also never been east of Colorado in the US save the DC airport on my way to London. I know, I'm un-American. I hope to change that in the coming years... starting with Charleston!

Photo documentation below!

First, one must enjoy the finer things of Southern culture and visit such necessary landmarks as:

AND!

 

Both of these fantastic establishments made me feel I was truly in the South. You should also know that the Waffle House is ghetto-DELICIOUS! And anyone who is telling you anything else is smokin something. In fact, let's talk a little bit about food, shall we?

Foods you must eat in Charleston: First, fried things... lots of fried things. If you don't eat fried things then you will not eat. So think about that before you pack your bags and head to that part of the U.S. where mac and cheese is considered a vegetable. You think I jest... I jest NOT lad. Fried things I had: Fried green tomatoes (delish), hush-puppies (which is basically deep fried pancake batter balls), chicken (duh), shrimps and other various basted seafood delights, grits, cheese grits, buttered grits (not fried but oh-so-Southern), and french fries (what?). My favorite place we dined was the Hominey Grill and I demand that if you go to Charleston YOU GO TO THE HOMINEY GRILL. Because if you don't, you suck. And no one really wants to suck; particularly if you sorta suck already.

Also of note is Melvins BBQ. Oh my friends, you have not eaten BBQ until you've sucked back some Melvin's BBQ. It's all about the sauce. They have varieties of sauces for to slather your pulled meat platters and oh what a slathering it is. This is also where I discovered my love for lima beans dripping in bacon-butter. That's right, bacon-butter.

Of course, the sea food is 100 times better than anything landlocked Utah can offer you, but you trade in exquisite Mexican food which Charleston does NOT have. Nikelle and I had ourselves some fish tacos at the end of a Sunday beaching excursion and felt less than satisfied. Utah, appreciate your Mexican cuisine cause you won't find of that business in the South. Not in Charleston, anyway.

Honorable food mention of course goes to Bo'jangles Biscuit and their freakishly good Bo'Jangle Blueberry biscuit shown here:

Internet, you've never tasted anything with such a perfect blend of savory, sweet, and startch. No, not ever.

NEXT! Let's talk about stuff to do.

The South is brimming with history the West can't hold a candle to. And that history goes all the way back to the Revolutionary War. However, the war that left its biggest mark on the South and nearly divided our great country in half, was of course the Civil War. Thus, visiting a legitimate Southern Plantation or two is a hands down 100% MUST!

We chose Middletone Place Plantation

And what trip to the South would be complete without a little Swampin? A pretty crappy one that's what! Below are the adventures of Cypress Gardens. We rented ourselves a wee canoe... and it being wee is significant considering we were paddling our way through alligator infested WATERS! Alright "infested" is a strong word... but they were "around." And that's a crazy thought to think that Alligators can just appear here and there in your everyday life, right?

Dude, Mr. Turtle, was my father. (Movie trivia!)

 

Next, let’s talk about Downtown Charleston and Beaches, yes? Observe.

One must naturally visit the Farmer's Market, walk The Battery, and weave in an out of the cobblestoned streets of Charleston to truly get a feel for its simple beauty and picturesque ambiance. Come, walk with me:

Turns out I took a lot of pictures. Yep! Ha! And that's not the half of them but I'm trying to keep this short...er... erp.. Fail.

BEACHES!

There were two, but really only one worth mentioning as it's a very "Southern/East Coast" sort of beach which means not necessarily the miles of white sand, gulls, and piercing heat; rather, a slight breeze, packed sand, and big brimmed hats. Tis referred to as Sullivans Beach. Follow the romper:

Naturally, in between eating and beaching and leisurely hanging about, I also did some shopping and saw a couple of movies. Truly, it was a very relaxing vacation with ample leisure time and not a lot of "we must go here and we must go there!" Many times, I feel I need a vacation from my vacation, such as the case with Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam last tear. Talk about mentally taxing. This one, this one was a true, legitimate, relax and read leisure novels vacation and one that definitely recharged my battery for the weeks ahead which involved MOVING and MOVING and also moving. That's right - I am no longer a single apartment dweller but in fact, a house-dweller with a roommate. And I prefer houses and 1 or 2 roomies in every way: socially, financially,... other significant "lys"

House pictures to COME!