On coming to the rescue

Last week Blake and his roommate and I met up at Costco for a shopping extravaganza. After we had bought our weight in frozen food and loaded it into our cars, Blake's roommate discovered that his car wouldn't start. I had already left in my car and got a phone call from them explaining the situation.

Although I was already home, I drove back to the Costco to rescue them. You see, neither of them had jumper cables in their cars. I did. When I got there Blake's roommate was on the phone with his uncle who is a mechanic. The uncle was giving him some troubleshooting instructions. Unfortunately, neither of them had any wrenches. I did. Awesome!
I can't take total credit for my preparedness--the emergency kit with jumper cables was a gift from my brother and the set of wrenches a gift from my dad. But I still had them. So, next time you're stranded, call Becca to the rescue!

On Grandma Jean

Today is my Grandma Jean's birthday. She would have been 86. For most of my life my family lived with my grandma. I knew her well; she was more than just a grandma to me. In many ways, she was the parent I needed her to be. When I was younger I remember her cooking for me, teaching me crafty things, driving me around, and talking when I needed. As I got older, I cooked for her, drove her around, and tried to make time to talk, although I know I didn't do those things as often as I should have. I certainly didn't appreciate all she did for me until it was too late to say thank you. A lot of what I learned about being consistent in doing the right things and being faithful in living according to our beliefs I learned from watching my grandma. I loved her.

This picture is from the first time I went to the temple. It's one of the last things I did with Grandma Jean. By the time I went to the MTC 2 months later she was in the hospital. I don't think she ever went home. She passed away while I was on my mission, in my first area.


I love my grandma and the good person she was. I am proud to have her name. (My name is Rebecca Jean, for anyone who didn't know.) One of the quirky things I remember about Grandma Jean is that she liked toast and peanut butter. When we were trying to decide what to have for dinner Grandma would frequently say "Oh, I'll just have some toast and peanut butter." On December 1st I eat toast and peanut butter in honor of Grandma Jean. Happy Birthday Grandma!

On politics

I'll be honest, I don't like politics. Conversations about politics are very rarely that; they turn quickly to name-calling and a lot of talking with very little listening. I don't see that very much, if anything, is accomplished by such discussions. Allow me to share my observations of one small situation regarding California's Proposition 8. (For those of you who may be against it, I apologize that my observations revolve around Facebook.)

A few months back a friend I'm calling MB's Facebook status read "MB already voted by absentee ballot and voted no on 8." It's important to know that MB is a Mission Buddy. There were plenty of comments on his status. One girl was particularly vocal and attacked MB for not having a testimony and on and on. I thought that MB did a great job explaining his reasons in a logical and respectful manner, reminding everyone that he was free to chose and act in accordance with his own conscience. Great. Good. I totally supported him in that.

Unfortunately, logical and respectful ended there. Over the next several weeks MB posted note after note about Prop 8. His comments were almost all negative, attacking, and meanspirited. There were some other friends from the mission who entered into debates with MB. Neither side was willing to budge, both were name-calling, both repeating the same arguments over and over seemingly completely unwilling to even try to see things from the other side. Nothing was generated except frustration and hard feelings.

These same conversations could have been about any issue. I hate it. This is why I try to avoid politics. It's probably not the most mature way of dealing with things, but I see what happens and it turns my stomach and I want no part in it. So there you have my thoughs on politics.

On wedding etiquette

Warning! This post is largely a complaint and will most likely sound rather self-righteous. I don't mean to hurt anyone's feelings; this is all in fun.

Now, I'm all about being unconventional (just ask me about some of our wedding plans), but I also believe that etiquette simply must be followed on certain items. Unconventional or modern or simple or running out of time and being stressed is not an acceptable excuse for being rude.

Many a friend in the last several years have invited me to join Facebook groups called "[bride] and [groom] are gettin hitched." These groups inevitably have some kind of explanation that reads "We're getting married. If you want an invitation post your address below." I have never liked this. I think it's tacky. When Blake and I got engaged I made it very clear we would not be creating such a group. Luckily, he agreed with me (or at least is smart enough not to question me on it because I might bite his head off :)). I think it's impersonal and rude. I don't feel that these people really want me there; they'll only send me an invitation if I want one. I don't think they would go to the trouble of finding my address if I don't post it. What's worse is that I have joined at least one of these groups, given my address, and then not received an invitation. LAME!

I was reading through the invitations section in a Martha Stewart Weddings book (on loan from my future sister-in-law, thank you Alanna) and read the following from the president of a wedding invitations company: "The key is to make your guests feel that you really want them there, not that you were obligated to invite them." Yes! Thank you for validating my feelings on the subject, Marc Friedland. I couldn't agree with you more.


I continued reading about Thank You notes. Blake and I had already discussed getting some printed and come up with a system for writing them. Martha says, "There is one custom no one has to debate: Every gift must be acknowledged with a personal, handwritten thank-you note." I agree. Then it occurred to me: I have been to several weddings and bridal showers in the last few years to which I brought gifts and never received a thank-you note! I think my family has been pretty good about it but not all of my friends. And now I'm bugged. I know I'll sound like my grandmother here, but this younger generation has lost it's sense of propriety (imagine me saying this while wearing a q-tip wig and shaking a wrinkly, crooked finger).

I may change my tune a little when I'm trying to adjust to a new home and lifestyle and the thought of starting in on a mountain of thank-you notes brings me to tears, but for now I plan on writing them. I want to be a considerate bride. Oh, and that reminds me, I'm working on a guest list for my wedding, so if you want an invitation, please post your address in the comments.

On becoming a graduate school drop-out

Ok, not really. I know many of my loyal blog readers are already updated on the situation, but I figured it will be good for me to put this all out into the universe. After getting engaged and beginning to plan the wedding and starting into my classes for real and seeing the stress Blake was under with his projects and the enormous task of selling his place, updating his portfolio, finding a new job, and moving in less than 3 months, I realized that something had to give. This situation was much bigger than me. As I looked at it realistically I saw that we were really expecting too much of ourselves. After a lot of tears and very serious discussion we decided that I should become a graduate school drop-out.

The truth is that I'm not really dropping out. My program in California is allowing me to take a leave of absence. I can take a few classes from the MFT program at BYU starting in January that will transfer when I go back. This gives us a much more realistic time frame to work with. So, for now, I'm back in Utah, living with my mom, flat broke, and looking for a job. Maybe this should be it's own post, but looking for a job is so depressing. Blah!

I don't want to sound too negative about it. I really am happy to be back here and feel that it was the best thing to do for our relationship. I can also aleviate a lot of stress I would have been putting on others by doing the planning for the wedding myself. It's good. I guess I only really have two complaints. 1) The job hunt. 2) The winter. It's already too cold for me. It makes me want to cry. I hate the cold. It's a good thing I've got a Blake around to put my cold feet on. ;)

On getting engaged

Let me start out this post by saying that one of the things I love about Blake is how energetic he is and how excited he gets. After he paid for my ring and after he called to schedule a sealing room at the temple I got very excited phone calls from him. "Becca! Guess what I just did!?" It's very endearing.

We had looked at rings together because Blake wanted to get an idea of what I like before he bought one (totally understandable). The ring was being made by a friend of a friend, and Blake told me it wouldn't be done for two weeks (I think it really took about 4 days). He was so disappointed that he wouldn't have it before he came down to visit me. A friend of mine said that he was going to try to surprise me with it when he came down because he made a point of telling me when the ring would be done. I dismissed her idea because I didn't think he'd be able to keep a secret like that; I thought he'd be too excited. Well, I was half right. He couldn't keep it a secret from anyone except me! My mom knew and his parents knew and they had all seen the ring. Blake's brothers both knew and so did his roommate. I was clueless.


Last weekend Blake came to California to visit me. I was SO excited to see him. We spent a day at Disneyland. Apparently he had the ring in his pocket all day long; he asked me later if I had noticed him checking periodically to make sure it was still there. I hadn't. When the day was just about done--it was 11:30--Blake and I went over to the Snow White wishing well to keep up with his tradition of visiting it every time he comes to Disneyland. We threw in some coins and a couple showed up and started taking pictures. Blake offered to take their picture to try to shew them away. They offered to take our picture in return. Notice Blake's face in the picture. He's kind of anxious for them to go away. It's cute. Those people went away and another group came through. I was kind of wondering why Blake was waiting for us to be alone before throwing in his coins.

We were at the well tossing in our coins. I started to suspect something when Blake looked over his shoulder nervously before throwing in the last coin. He made his wish, and I grabbed his hand and started to walk away. He said, "Wait. I have one more wish" and started fishing in his pocket and got down on one knee. I don't think I said anything, just made some noises: "Oh. Oh!" He was so nervous he almost put the ring on the wrong hand. He asked me if I would marry him. I guess I said yes; I don't really remember. But I do remember that he stood up and we hugged and kissed and laughed and it was great!

I'm happy. It's still pretty surreal though. Every once in a while I'll have a little reality check and think "Wow! I'm engaged. I'm getting married. This is for real. Unreal!" Blake is perfect for me. I'm so happy I know him. :D

On Blake

I received some crap about posting on my reading chair the weekend after I got engaged to Blake. Well, people, let me explain how my brain works. I have things in order, and reading chair was next. I had to get it out of the way before I could write about Blake. Just so that everyone knows where I'm going with this, I'm going to explain my plan. This post is about Blake and how I got to know him. When I get around to it, the next post after that will be the story of our engagement. On deck after that is a post about wedding planning.

I first noticed Blake when he taught a Sunday School lesson in our singles ward in Salt Lake. He had his name written all graphically cool in the corner of the board and I thought to myself "Who is this joker?" His lesson was pretty impressive, and I decided he was an alright sort of dude. We didn't really "meet" until the ward Bear Lake activity. We ended up on the same boat water skiing. It was my first time. I was impressed by how nice and friendly Blake was. He asked me the normal get-to-know-you kind of questions, but really seemed to listen to my answers and be interested in me. I felt comfortable with him from the very beginning. We spent most of the day together and he even gave me a ride home.

Blake and I spent the next month or so really getting to know one another as friends. We talked at church and emailed and chatted online. I so enjoyed getting to know him. We connected on a lot of levels. I can only really speak for myself, but I found that the best, most confident parts of myself came out when I was talking with Blake. He has all the good qualities that I was looking for. He's smart and funny and laughs at my jokes. He listens well and is attentive to me, has a great family, and is artistically talented. Check out his awesome graffiti skills! I'm so proud of him.

Our relationship progressed rather quickly, mostly because I was moving to California. We both knew that I was moving and this precipitated a lot of conversations about how we felt about each other and where we saw our relationship going. Again, I can only speak for myself, but I was so impressed with Blake and felt so good when I was with him that I was willing to take some more significant risks than usual. And . . . it was totally worth it!

*Can anyone help me with posting photos? I can't seem to get them to appear after the text. Maybe it's really simple and I'm an idiot, but I'd appreciate any pointers.

On a reading chair

I read a lot. For many years that has been a direct result of me being in school. The good thing is that I enjoy it. I still read a lot when I'm not in school as well. I just love a good book. Sometimes, I even like textbooks (but don't tell anyone because that's SUPER nerdy). I like getting caught up in ideas and stories.

For a superior reading experience, on really needs a good reading chair. As I moved from crappy apartment to crappy apartment around Provo, I noticed that in every place I lived I tended to have a certain reading spot. Sometimes it was just one corner of the couch, but I really prefer a good reading chair. When I moved down to California and finally got a bed in my place, I realized that I would also need a good reading chair. Now that it's here I can really get down to the business of reading the million pages I have assigned this quarter. Hooray for graduate school!

PS This is the first picture I've posted on my blog. I'm still trying to figure out how to make it awesome.

On not hiking the Subway

I met up with friends in St George last weekend to hike the Subway. We had a permit for 8 people but 11 showed up. Blake has hiked it before, so he bowed out. I, of course, went with him. In the end, I'm so glad that I did that. I'm a little afraid of heights, and when I saw the pictures our friends took on the hike I was so glad I didn't go. There were some rappels in there that would have scared the tar out of me if not something worse.

I still had a wonderfully relaxing day, which was nice after the craziness of my first week of graduate school. Blake and I got to help our friends out by driving them to the trailhead and then leaving a car for them at the trail end. Then we had an almost-running-out-of-gas adventure. Thank goodness for the Chevron in Springdale! We laid out a blanket on the sandy banks of the Virgin River and took a much needed nap. Not going on the hike also gave us some time alone to have some very important conversations about the future of our relatinoship. (And we might have kissed, just a little.)

After our nap we went to the park entrance and had lunch: dino-sammiches and bananas and gold fish crackers and beef jerky. Mmm . . . beefy! Partway through lunch I looked around and realized that there were three other couples around us also enjoying lunch. We were the youngest by a solid 40 years. It was great! We rode the shuttle up to the Temple of Sinawaba and hiked up the Narrows backwards. It was so fun. We also stopped for a shark fruit snack snack. Mmm . . . sharky! And, we got to meet up with the group at Famous Dave's for some delicious eats. I LOVE brisket. I didn't realize the amazingness of the beef brisket until my mission in Texas and wondered where it had been all my life. I'll never be the same. Mmmmm . . .sweet sweet brisket.

On leaving work

Last Friday was my last day of work at Partnet. As was to be expected, it took a while for me to transition into my job there and to figure out the company culture and how I fit into it. The fact that my position was brand new didn't help smooth the transition. I gradually got to a comfortable spot and enjoyed my time there.

I knew I had some friends at work but had no idea how much people liked me until I left. My last week at work was filled with well-wishers and compliments. My co-workers even planned a surprise lunch with a fantastic turnout. I had no idea I was so well liked. It's kind of sad that it took my leaving for me to realize that I had become part of the Partnet family.

This experience got me thinking. I wondered how much happier and even more fun my time there would have been if I had known how much people liked me. I wonder why we do that to each other, why we hold back the nice things that could brighten another's day. I feel a new resolve to vocalize my thoughts and feelings, to lift someone else with a smile or a hug or a kind word.

On road trips

I love a good road trip! Last weekend I went up to Jackson, WY to go rafting with some friends. Because I was going home by way of Idaho Falls for Mari's blessing I ended up driving alone. I love that drive. There are so many memories along that road. I passed the spot where I watched a beautiful sunset last year (and ignored a call from my dad that resulted in a month of me being stubborn). I remember that patch of trees and sheep crossing the road over there and what Lyndi and I were talking about as we passed through Afton. I started counting and figure I've made at least 15 trips along that route in the last 10 years. No wonder it feels so good! Like an old friend. It's not the destination so much as the trip that feels like a friend.

Road trip conversations are the best. There's no rush. The conversation is free to wander as it will. I have some really great memories of road trip conversations--some of them are even with other people! Cute and quirky towns, gas station finds, strange bits of history, and good good memories. They're long and sometimes tedious and tiresome and increasingly expensive, but I still love a good road trip!

On angel children

Last Saturday I met my new favorite baby: Mari! I might get pictures up here soon, we'll see. I went to Idaho Falls for her baby blessing. I got to hold her for several hours on Saturday evening and we totally bonded. I talked to her about her blessing that would happen the next day and what she should expect so she wouldn't be scared. I think it worked, too! She behaved like an angel. As tends to happen when one is teaching, I learned something about baby blessings as I talked to Mari about hers. I was looking at her sweet little face--seeing my cousin Patti in her features--and I wondered who she is, what the spirit is like that's inhabiting her little body. I realized that I don't know, but God does and that the baby blessing can be a glimpse into the spirit and personality and characteristics that already exist in this person. She's had a life before birth and God knows her and can let the rest of us know a little of her too. What an awesome blessing! Mari and I are going to be friends forever now because we learned together and felt the Spirit together.

On Sunday after church family and friends were gathered at Patti and Alan's. Patti was in the kitchen with Ryan. I don't know what their interaction was about, but I heard Patti call him "angel boy." I smiled; she has assumed at least one aspect of the parent role that I'm familiar with. Growing up my mom would call me "angel girl." I've heard my aunt call her kids and grandkids angel boys and girls. Not long ago I overheard another cousin refer to his child as "angel boy." This got me wondering where it started. If my cousins do it, and my aunts and uncles, then I think it's safe to assume that my grandmother did it. I wonder for how many generations past and future there have and will be "angel boys" and "angel girls" coming to my family. What a great legacy!

On finding a new me

For background on this post, read my thoughts on relationship deja vu--romantic edition.

I've been talking to this cute boy (maybe I should grow up and call him a handsome or attractive man, which he is) for a couple weeks now. We seem to click pretty well, and I'm having such a good time getting to know him. This little flirtation has been so different from any other. I'm so calm and clear headed about it, at least that's how it seems to me. Knowing that a male has any sort of interest in me at all usually causes me a certain level of anxiety, and I tend to end up thinking that I'm totally crazy and/or hopeless. Not this time! I don't feel panicky at all. I'm having fun. I'm being so confident and direct. It's not a show either. I really feel that way, and it feels great.

I was talking to Kim about it the other day, wondering when I got to be so confident in myself. I was telling her some of the things that I had said to this oh-so-wonderful man, shocked that I had the guts to say them. Kim's take on the issue was that he must bring it out in me, and she also mentioned that Kyle brings out good things in her. Oh! Is that what that's like? I like it!

I don't know what's going to happen. He still has a girlfriend and I'm still moving to California. I don't know what will happen, but I know that I'm really enjoying this. I've found a new me, and I like me.

On having a supportive family

I really love my family. My extended family is so supportive and I just love it. My cousin Patti just had a baby and the new baby is being blessed in Idaho Falls the first weekend in August. I probably would have gone up anyway, but was excited that it coincided with a trip to Jackson Hole I was planning for that same weekend. As I've started talking about it with the rest of my family, I realized that everyone is going. My aunt and uncle (Patti's parents) are going for sure, so is Patti's brother and sister-in-law with their three kids, and my mom and my brother. Except me, everyone lives in Utah county. We're all driving up to Idaho for the blessing. A group of us drove up and back on the same day two years ago for the blessing of their first child. (I love you Ryan!)

My family is so supportive. The best part about it is that it isn't a big deal; it's just what we do. There wasn't any big debate about whether we should or shouldn't go or if that was too far. Of course we'll go!

Although I haven't experienced it personally, I have noticed the same thing happen with weddings. Aunt Christine and Uncle Lou come up for all the weddings that happen in Utah. My mom and aunts and uncles here go to the weddings that happened in California. I love it! In the last few years I've realized what a blessing it is to have such a supportive family that I can count on. I love you guys!

On relationship deja vu--romantic edition

I would like to take you back with me about 5 years to a dream world I like to call "my life before the mission." For almost an entire year before I left I had this interesting, fun, sexually tense relationship with SWPS. Apparently he was pretty interested in my when we first met. I was completely oblivious and by the time I figured out what a great person he is, he was in a committed relationship with someone else. So, I took the role of the supportive friend.

His relationship with his girlfriend and later fiancee was rocky. During the rough patches he would come to me, and I would listen and give advice. It was killer. I wanted it to work out because I wanted him to be happy and didn't want to see him get hurt. I didn't want it to work out because I really wanted him to be with me. What kind of advice does one give in that situation? I tried to go with what was best for him and what he wanted, but it was so hard.

We did have some great times together though. We laughed a lot and played MahJong a lot. We stayed up talking all night. We spooned and shared the most romantic almost-kiss I've ever experienced. There were a couple of joke kisses too, one that caught him so off-guard he was speechless. I don't know if I can communicate the joy I got from shocking speechless the master of shocking situations and sayings. He told me once that if the timing had been different, if I had shown even a bit of interest in the beginning, that I would have had that ring instead of his fiancee. I feel neutral about it now, but I don't know if I should have been flattered or offended by that. No matter; it's over. They're married now and living in Seattle. I visit them when I go up.

Fast-forward to the present. There's a man in my ward that I first noticed a few months ago when he gave a powerful and thoughtful Sunday school lesson. Not quite two weeks ago was our ward Bear Lake trip. Partly through chance and partly by choice I ended up spending the majority of the day with this man. It was a great day. I would have had a great time anyway, but his happy presence made it even better. After getting back from the trip we talked a bit and messaged on Facebook a bit and flirted a bit. He came over to our house for a party. And then I found out he has a girlfriend. Drats! He's still fun though and still cute, just a little less accessible. I was happy, genuinely, with the prospect of having him as a friend.

The last two days we have chatted online all day at work. He started the conversation both days, but I definitely kept it going. He's so interesting and funny and just impressive. I really love people and find good things in everyone, but I don't often use the word impressive to describe people. I really love talking to him (and flirting, let's be honest). He seems to enjoy talking with me too. This afternoon the conversation got more serious. He started talking to me about his girlfriend, who I have met a couple times. Relationship deja vu! Here I am again, being the good friend because it's who I am and because it's the right thing to do, trying to be supportive about the relationship and to be understanding while thinking all along "I wish you would want to be with me." She doesn't even think he's funny! It looks like she might be moving to Seattle soon and he might be following her there. Maybe I'll stop by for a visit next time I'm in town. We can all go out together: impressive man from the ward and his girl, SWPS and his wife, and me.

On relationship deja vu--Family edition

I'm not totally sure which direction this post is going to take, but I decided that it's kind of a big topic so I should probably break it into two.

I am reading a book now called Intimate Partners about marriage relationships. It starts out talking about family histories and roles and how people tend to fill roles that are familiar to them, that have been modeled for them. For example, the girl who grows up in a home with an alcoholic father finds herself in a relationship with an alcoholic husband. It's something familiar to her. She knows how to be the supportive wife of the alcoholic husband because that is what she has seen modeled for her in her home. She may not consciously want to be there, but ends up there because that's the role she knows how to play. It is, of course, more complex than that, but I think this much will suffice for what I want to say.

After reading that section of the book, I got to thinking about what roles I know how to play, which ones have been modeled for me. I know how to be the strong, independent woman, the single mother. I grew up with my mother and grandmother who are both kind and capable and funny and do it all themselves. I can see in myself even now that I know how to do that, and I'm comfortable with it. It scares me just a little bit to realize that I don't know the loving and beloved wife role. I've never seen it. It's unfamiliar and therefore very scary. I can be pretty uncomfortable even being a girlfriend. It's not that I think I'm so terrible at it (I am a good person and a good friend, after all), it's just that I'm so unsure of how to be and what is appropriate. It's unfamiliar, which makes it stressful, which makes being alone a lot easier, which brings me back to the single woman. Relationship deja vu.

Something else in my book led my thoughts in a rather personal direction. The author says that people tend to recreate in their marriage relationship the same dynamic that existed in their relationship with their parent, especially if there are unresolved issues or feelings. Zing! That struck a chord. I think that Steve, my former therapist, was hinting at this once and that I didn't fully capture what he was saying. My dad abandoned and rejected me when I was a young girl. It was a good thing in many respects but was also terribly painful. Although I didn't realize it, I really wanted and needed a father. I didn't know it, but I wanted him to come back, I wanted him to love me, I wanted him to change his mind. I've recreated this same scenario with young men I have dated. When they break up with me is when I want them most. I want them to realize their mistakes and to come back and to love me. These thoughts and feelings are pervasive and difficult to let go. Lurking in my subconscious there seems to be this idea that a young man coming back to me will make up for or somehow resolve the conflict of my childhood, that it will fill the gaping hole that was created when my father left. Relationship deja vu.

On party planning

Party planning is a double-edged sword. The party planner makes the fun stuff happen but then doesn't really get to enjoy it like everyone else.

The amazing Shannon planned (almost single-handedly) a ward Bear Lake trip last weekend. It was so fun for everyone else, but for Shannon it was a work trip. She spent hours before hand planning and shopping and such. When everyone else was out on the lake, Shannon was in the kitchen slicing huge slabs of meat. While everyone was playing volleyball or eating breakfast, Shannon was cooking or cleaning or transporting gear.

I'm planning a company zoo party and BBQ for this Friday. I thought about what kids I know who might want to come with me to the zoo. I only had to think through it for about five minutes before I realized that this would never work. I'm planning the party and therefore cannot fully participate. I'll get there late, leave early, transport drinks, clean up, etc. I can't bring a guest! I'm planning the party!

On finding a gray hair

What is that?!?

I was getting ready this morning with my face really close to the mirror when I noticed something right along my hairline . . . a gray hair. I was looking up near my hairline because I was removing small pieces of sunburned skin from my forehead, but that's a topic for another post.

My hair has been dyed a few different colors in the last year or so, so I had to check closely to make sure that the hair was really gray and not just a stray from a previous dying. It's gray.

I wish I could say this was the first time I have found a gray hair. I remember being about fourteen and my cousin, who was in beauty school at the time, was cutting my hair and found one around the back. I don't doubt that other hair stylists have noticed that hair or others back there, but they are too nice to say anything. Only your cousin will pull it out and make fun of you for it.

I guess it's somehow appropriate that halfway through my twenties I found the gray hair. I'm now closer to 30 than 20. Boo hoo hoo. The bell has tolled. I've found the gray hair. It's the beginning of the end.

On recovering from a sunburn

Last weekend I went to Bear Lake with my singles ward. It was fantastic. Now I understand the appeal of speed boats and water skiing. (I also got to spend some time with a cute man! :)) The fact that I applied 45 spf sunscreen twice was no match for the combination of high altitude, summer sun, and bare skin that hasn't seen the sun in years. I got fried. Here, four days later, my legs aren't even pink yet, they're still a lovely shade of purple.

My forehead, shoulders, and chest have begun the peeling process. It's quite disgusting really. I notice that I've started peeling and must reach for the little dry patch and pull the dead skin off. I can't help myself. It's like cleaning the bathroom: it's disgusting, but once I've started I have to finish. Maybe this is what it's like to be a reptile. I guess I can be grateful for the experience of recovering from a sunburn; it's helping me learn to empathize with the animal kingdom.

On being the queen of awkward

The other night I was chatting with a friend online. I decided I wanted to have a little fun and asked if he remembered the first time we met. It was at the MTC when we both worked there and I thought he was going to ask me out for sure. He never really answered me about that but did say that he remembered the day. He even remembered the district I was teaching at the time--I didn't. The conversation was a little strange, and I loved it. The more awkward it got (defining what it means to hit on someone, me telling him he wussed out) the more delighted I became by the conversation. It was great.

A few weeks ago a friend of mine, who will remain unnamed, told me a first kiss story. She was explaining how she thought the guy wanted to kiss her and all the little events that led up to that important moment. The best part was right before the kiss. She said she knew he was going to kiss her because she could hear that he was breathing rapidly and shallowly. I was laughing so hard I could hardly contain myself. I thought the story was awesome. I don't know for how long my friend had to pause in her narrative so that I could get control of myself and listen to the rest of the story. The awkwardness of the situation was incredible--incredibly awesome.

So, there was this guy I had been out on several dates with. I thought he was really cool, but I wasn't sure if he was all that into me. I also considered that maybe he just moves really slow. I wanted to get a read on the situation, so I sent him a Facebook message telling him that. I also told him that it was up to him, that I would be okay either way. I didn't hear back from him for a while. Then yesterday I got a Facebook message from this guy. He said he took a while to write back because he wasn't sure how to respond to what I had written. This time I didn't just enjoy the awkward, I made it. Then, in an attempt to remedy the situation, I most likely made it worse: I wrote back! I just re-read what I wrote, and it doesn't seem bad, but then I never can tell until later.

After all of this, I decided that whether I just enjoy it or create it myself, I am the queen of awkward.

On following through

It's just before 11 am on Memorial Day. I am sitting in my bed, still in my pajamas (not a bad place, to be, I might add), wondering what I am going to do for the rest of the day. I thought about all the different things I had planned to do but that never materialized because my friends didn't follow through. Washington DC, New York, Moab, camping, hiking, etc. Some of these plans were necessarily changed because of the bad weather but most of them never happened because people flaked on me. I'm annoyed.

Call me crazy, but I try to do what I say I will. I know that following through on plans for a holiday weekend might not seem like the most important thing in the world, but it gets old when I feel like I can't count on anyone to come through. I hate it when people tell me what they think I want to hear. Oooo, that bugs. I would rather have someone tell me "no" or "let me think about it" than to have them tell me "Yeah, I'd love to" and not come through for me later.

I'm contemplating making my own plans for next weekend. I really want to go down to Arches but don't want the same thing to happen again where I'm left high and dry because everyone bailed. I could go down myself next weekend--and am seriously considering it--but gas prices are so high that I don't know if that's really a wise financial move. I need someone to go with me to split the cost. Stupid people!

On recapturing my childhood

It seems like some adventure involving scissors and hair is a part of every normal childhood. I know I was a participant in such an incident. My cousin Jeanette cut my hair. Jeanette is the cute one; the one who looks like me (five points to you if you remember where that comes from).

Recently, I went back to a childhood hair phase and got bangs. I don't know that that is a childhood phase for everyone, but I had bangs as a kid and not at all since then. Well, something that comes with bangs is frequent haircuts. Within three to four weeks of a haircut the bangs get so long that they don't lay right and get in your eyes.

Today I decided it was time to completely recapture my childhood and to cut my own hair. I pulled back my hair, grabbed some scissors (thanks Jodie), and went to town on my bangs. I wasn't really going for "even" so I think they look okay. Mission accomplished, childhood recaptured, about 20 years too late.

Side note: I have so much hair. Every time I get my hair done the stylist comments on how thick it is, even if it's not my first time with that stylist. It makes me smile because I expect it every time. But, even I was surprised when I looked into the sink and saw how much hair was there after just a little bang trim.

On the myth of life after school

When I was a full-time student I looked forward to the day when I would no longer have paper deadlines, mountains of reading, and boring lectures to attend. Life after school seemed like a wonderful dream. I know I'm not the only student to have entertained these thoughts.

Well, I have something to say about life after school: It's a myth! Life after school is not all it's cracked up to be. Full-time work is the pits. It's monotonous and confining. I can't just decide not to go one day. Repercussions for completing something late are much more serious than a poor grade which really only effects you anyway. Oh, and just opting not to do something you don't feel like doing is not a possibility. I can't just decide to take next semester off or to take a lighter load or some fun classes. I have to commit to something for more than 4 months.

So, my student friends, I say to you, enjoy it while you can. You might not ever have so much freedom again. Personally, I'm so disenchanted with the myth of life after school that I'm going back to school!

On Blogging

I love reading writing about writing. Writing is a way of thinking, and, I contend, all great thinkers are of necessity writers. Undoubtedly, many great thoughts have been thought that we don't know about because the thinker never wrote them down. Perhaps, then, I should amend my previous statement: great thinkers who know how to write are remembered and therefore influential. Evidence: Plato, Aristotle, Shakespeare, John Locke, Abraham Lincoln, Mark Twain, The Becca. (See! Writing really is a way of thinking. As I wrote about writing I changed my thoughts about the relationship between thinking and writing.) One of my favorite statements about writing and thinking is this: I don't know what I think until I read what I wrote.

Another writer who writes about writing suggests that no one writes just because. All people, even journalers, she suggests write to be read. We write for an audience. We want to be read. And so we blog. Since leaving school and the abundance of writing I did there, I have craved an audience. (I don't really need to be the center of attention all the time. You know what I mean, a writing audience.) I no longer have a collection of professors as a willing (and sometimes quite demanding) audience. Thus, I am trying to become a blogger.