A Girl Like Me

I Like to Make Things With My Hands...

2009-11-28T17:56:00.000-08:00

So, I have a new roommate. Her name is Katelyn, and she is a peach. We get along great and both have a penchant for handbags and shoes. Expensive, but truly enjoyable.

She loves to watch HGTV. I also like to watch this channel, but I usually get stuck on the Seinfeld re-runs or The Food Network before I venture far enough down the cable guide listings to find out what is on. Since she's moved in, I've been taking in a lot more of programs like "Design On A Dime," "Divine Design," "Color Splash" etc etc etc. The point of most of these shows is they take a space and remodel or redecorate based on the owners' budget and design preferences.

I have two favorite shows on this channel. The first one is "Design on a Dime." The owner allots a budget (usually $1000 or so) and then the designers have to design the entire space under their budget. The second one is called "Color Splash" I like this one because the host, David Bromstad, was the winner of HGTV's Design Star Challenge....I shamelessly watched every episode and routed for Bromstad. He always uses lots of color and has a distinctly contemporary style that was always clean and concise, which I love. Please avoid the temptation to make attractive male with large muscle and tattoo jokes...surely you can do better than that.

Anyway. Like I said, we've been watching a lot of this stuff lately. The cool thing about the two shows I mentioned is that in the case of "Design on a Dime" the design team often has to cut corners in order to come in under budget and they make a lot of original art pieces and refurbish a lot of furniture they find at second hand markets. Bromstad has an art background and often creates his own original art for the spaces, and always comes up with interesting and original ideas. It's a good time all around.

So, Katelyn and I were watching the other night and watched the DoaD team make over a huge room with really big long walls. They built a simple frame and nailed grosgrain ribbon strips to the back of the frame horizontally and then did the same thing vertically and then wove the strips together to make a basketweave pattern. Then they used it as a big simple, textural art piece.

The other project that caught my eye was a "cord cozy" that Bromstad made. He took simple muslin fabric and sewed it into a long tube to cover the cord on a hanging light fixture.

Something you should know is I love color. My couch is pear green, I have two armless chairs in a tangerine print, and my dining room chairs are covered in a jewel-tone turquoise. I have resisted the urge to put a ruby colored rug under said turquoise colored chairs on MULTIPLE occasions.

The problem with my apartment is that it is just that, an apartment. Which means I can't paint. So, there is a LOT of white. White walls, white cabinets, white appliances, white ceilings, white counter tops...white white white. White can be great...very chic, simple, elegant. This, however, is suburban sprawl white. Cheap drywall white. We-don't-want-to-overthink-this white. I hate it. So, I've been looking for ways to spice things up without paint (see above references to somewhat irreverent furniture choices). However, the walls are continuously problematic. So, unless I want to paint and then REPAINT the white (uh, I think not) before I move out, I have to find another solution.

In addition to the whiteness, I have been extremely frustrated by two things. Strike that. Three things. The first thing is I have this big, long, white wall in my apartment that is driving me crazy. Right now I have three tiny, badly styled shadow boxes that I put up about a year ago. They are way too small and have nothing to do with the rest of the decor in the room, and they don't cover up enough of the WHITE. I am totally obsessive compulsive. This means the above situation makes me crazy. Problem two: CORDS! Cords are the bane of my existence. TV, DVD, Cable, Stereo, Lamp, WHEN DOES THE MADNESS END?!? They are an eyesore, and no matter how I push, pull, wrap, and tuck, they always end up in the same mangled mess behind my awkwardly open entertainment center. Did I mention I'm obsessive compulsive? Problem three: I'm broke. Well, sort of, in that mid-level government job kind of way...You get the idea. Interior Design is Expensive.

AHHHHH!!!!!

So, today, I decided to take matters into my own hands (most of my friends are out of town, and the rest are recovering from Thanksgiving, Katelyn is out of town, and I have been spending too much time alone). I got in the car and headed to Seven Corners where there is a Michaels Crafts, a Joann Fabric, and a Home Depot all in the same complex. Essentially, a DIY Mecca.
After a few hours, I left the Holy City of home craftiness with over 80 yards of "Olive Drab" grosgrain ribbon, acrylic paint in robins egg blue, a full range of paint brushes, 3 yards of Muslin, two types of nails, and 4 planks of custom measured and cut kiln-dried pine (hardware store guys are SERIOUSLY so helpful!).

I spent the rest of the evening building my frame and stringing ribbon back and forth across it to make a huge basketwoven canvas of softly shimmering olive green. On the show, the team had a nail gun. While I am the proud owner of a brand new power drill (thanks Mom & Dad), I didn't think that would work very well on the fabric ribbon, and I don't own a nail gun...which is probably a good thing since hospital visits are expensive. So I pounded every single nail. Three to secure each corner of the frame, and two per ribbon strip. My rough estimates are about 188 nails. I think my neighbors are probably planning a full mutiny. I don't blame them. Oh well. So now I have a 6' x 3' custom art piece (MUCH better than the 10"x 10" shadow boxes full of curly raffia and potpourri flowers). I am hoping to finish it with some stenciled birds in robins egg blue on opposing corners. I promise to post pics of the finished product. Paint, brushes, ribbon, and lumber all cost me less than $60. Did I mention it's 6'x3'? Seriously. 18 square feet of custom basketwoven glory. Seriously.

Color.
It's cool. Trust me.

I started project number two by cutting and pinning the muslin. I'll just run a long seam up the edge and finish both ends and then I'll have my own "cord cozy" to hide the cord cacophony happening behind my shelves and chair. Hallelujah. I can hardly wait to finish it. Glorious Day.

Think this scrunchy cord cover, only hiding all of my ugly TV and cable cords.

Joy. I feel so much joy.

Project number three, although not started, is in the final conceptual phases, and should be pretty easy to complete, all I have to do is find a lumber yard... The plan is to get a big stump from the lumber yard that has been sawed off flat on top, cover it in several coats of paint (again, robins egg blue) and finish it with a high gloss lacquer to make a side table.

Think This Shape

With This Color

Magic.

Seriously Can't Wait.

Yes, it's possible I'm having DIY visions of grandeur, but it's fun. I always forget how much I love making things myself. It's incredibly rewarding (when it all goes as planned, that is) to go out, collect different bits and pieces and then work with your own two hands to create something that is uniquely your own. Sometimes I wonder if the Reality TV craze has encouraged us to sit in our homes and watch other people cook, decorate, build, bake, design, sew, and create things. However, based on today's flurry of creative activity, I am happy to say that this is one case where TV actually inspired me to get of the couch and make something new and interesting...Hopefully it will all go as planned, and my apartment won't end up looking like an abandoned amusement park.

My thanks to HGTV for a couple of good ideas, and the assurance that color is your friend.

GO CREATE SOMETHING!!!!

...And A Diet Coke

2009-07-10T04:49:00.000-07:00

I hate starting these things out with apologies, but given the dearth of entries lately, I feel like I should.

So I'm sorry. There. I said it. I'm sorry I haven't been blogging and I'm sorry my life just hasn't been that interesting lately. I've also been "hanging out" with Facebook a lot, which has been, therefore, getting more play with my photos, etc. I'll try and be better.

Apology Over.

Time for the real reason for this post.

I went to the grocery store twice this week. Note* This. Never. Happens. Twice in a month...much more likely. I'm a fickle grocery store goer.

My attendance at the market, however, has been a good deal more regular as of late because of Safeway's sweet gas discount and the fact that they just put in a gorgeous new store that just happens to be on my way home from work. Fab.

So, I've started doing my grocery shopping on Mondays. I make my list towards the end of the work day, and then on my way home I stop in, get the week's supplies, and don't worry about it for the rest of the week. It's a pretty good system, if I do say so myself.

So, with my renewed commitment to regular grocery runs, I've also been making a concerted effort to only buy and make really good healthy food. I love this, and it makes me feel like a real human being, instead of a college student eating ramen on my couch for the third time in a week...not that I would still ever do that at 26...ahem....

Anyway

So I made my weekly grocery run on Monday. Things I bought included fresh spinach, strawberries, tomatoes, bell peppers, snap peas, whole grain pasta, fresh fish and hummus. I felt so proud as I pushed my little cart full of actual adult human food through the store. Lovely.

On Wednesday, I had to make a grocery run to prep for a party that I am helping to throw for one of my best friends. She is turning 25 and so we decided to have a "Young At Heart" party. We themed it around all those great 80's and 90's morning cartoons, are setting up a Slip n' Slide, and there may or may not be a shaving cream fight.

For food, we decided to have kid stuff. Popsicles, watermelon, cake, etc. Since I was in charge of food, and was looking at a full schedule for the rest of the week I decided to get it done a few days early. Also, I needed to fill up my tank and was just a few dollars shy of my $.20 gas discount. Bless you, Safeway.

So, I went to the grocery store. This time I was much less proud of what ended up in my cart. Popsicles of 3 or 4 different varieties, chocolate pudding, Oreos, Cool Whip, gummy worms, a huge bag of mixed candy, chips, salsa, cream cheese, sour cream, and a frozen pizza (okay, that last one wasn't for the party, but a girl has to be prepared for the unexpected). I felt fatter just looking at the stuff, and prayed I wouldn't run into any really attractive looking fit people...they would judge me, I just knew it.

On my way out of the store, I realized that on Monday I had forgotten bread. My FAVORITE kind of bread is called Health Nut. It is called this because it is chock full of yummy grains and things. It is tasty. I buy it even though it is in that snobby double wrapped packaging. I don't care. It tastes good.

I ran to the back of the store, grabbed my Health Nut bread, and tossed it in my cart next to the Cool Whip and Oreos. I snagged a spot in line and started to check out.

I put my items on the belt. I am very conscious of the fact that people who bag groceries Just. Don't. Care. I don't blame them. Because of this, I make sure and put squishy things or things I don't want broken on the belt last. This means the grocery baggers don't actually have to think, and I don't end up with one huge lump of mashed bread.

So, of course, the last thing to go on the belt was my beloved Health Nut bread. The girl scanning my groceries was apparently paying more attention than I usually give credit to grocery store employees for paying, and when she picked up the bread and read the label she looked at it, then looked at my bags full of sugar and saturated fat laden foods, then looked at me with a face that said "Seriously? Nice Try."

The only thing I can compare it to is when you're standing behind that 300+ pound individual at any given fast food joint and you hear them say:

"I'll have a double bacon cheeseburger, a large fry, and an apple pie...Oh, and a Diet Coke."

Nice Try.

I thought about explaining myself. I thought about telling her that I am a devotee of fresh spinach and anything involving citrus. I thought about telling her how much fun the party was going to be because we were all going to act like little kids. Instead, I just smiled sheepishly and shrugged my shoulders.

I'm pretty sure there's no Safeway Inner Circle Club that I'll be denied membership from for trying to pose as a healthy eater when I'm a closet sugar addict. Even if there is...

Oh well.

Happy Friday to You and Yours!

Good Karma...

2009-07-01T05:01:00.000-07:00

Karma Whitaker...

That was the name of the woman I met in the temple last night. She was little, and stooped and smiley. Her name was printed clearly on her white nametag.

Karma Whitaker.

It made me wish my name was Karma. Maybe it would remind me to be nicer to people at the grocery store, and to not yell when I drive, and to not leave my dirty dishes in the sink, or mutter things about my boss in my head that may or may not pass the PG-13 rating cut.

I doubt that Karma Whitaker is in charge of doling out much actual Karma. But I think, just in case, I will start trying to rack up more of the good kind of Karma. The Karma Whitaker kind of Karma. The soft, smiling, stooped kind of Karma that leaves you quite pleased with yourself at the end of a long, productive and happy life.

That's the kind of Karma I'm after.

Derby Girls...

2009-05-11T16:43:00.000-07:00

Last weekend three of my favorite friends and I got in my Honda and drove to Louisville (pronounced Lo-ah-ville for those of you not in the know) for the 135th Kentucky Derby.We packed up the car and left Virginia at about 3:00pm. We had all-girls road trip mixes in the stereo, goodies in the cooler, and large, flamboyant hats proudly displayed in the rear window. We were on our way.
About 15 minutes later the traffic had slowed to a crawl, and we were nervous that it was going to be a very long trip--almost 1500 miles in 3 days. It was a bad sign seeing as how rush hour hadn't even hit yet. Suddenly we saw to our right a black bump that looked like part of a tire. On closer inspection we saw that it was a large black snake that looked like a cobra, but had no hood. We watched it as we passed by and wondered where it had come from and how it had managed to survive its journey thus far. In India, it is an omen of success to see a snake crawling about in the road before you. Little did we know that the snake we saw within the first 30 minutes of our trip would portend a huge road trip success.

The traffic cleared shortly after we saw the snake and we drove straight through--with the exception of a very abbreviated stop at the shadiest Arby's I have ever seen--and stopped for the night in Lexington, about an hour away from Louisville. The next morning we woke up and got dolled up for the Derby.
We really didn't know what to expect. It was our first time at the Derby. We had tickets for the infield, the large grassy area in the center of the track. We managed to stake out a spot amongst several large groups of men. They found us delightful. Incidentally, the more mint juleps they consumed, the more delightful we became. I don't know what I was expecting, but it was less "My Fair Lady" and the Ascot Races and more "Talladega Nights: The Legend of Ricky Bobby." Think NASCAR...only with less, um, horsepower.

So, the following is a little documentation of our derby experience.
Jen and Michelle were so happy to be at the derby!

As it turns out, hugging while wearing large hats is hard...It's okay, we worked it out

Someone placed this lovely sticker on Michelle's bum. It says "I Got Lucky With Someone From Kentucky" Looks like someone was hoping they'd be lucky enough to get that close to Michelle!

I don't think we will be shocked by anything after the Derby

Other stickers we saw that day included one that said "Talk Derby to Me." While the Derby was full of new and interesting sights and adventures, we were constantly amazed at the sheer number of MEN that we saw. They were everywhere. Huge groups of them. Hunting Buddies. Frat Boys. Office Associates. Family Groups. Biker Gangs. The odd thing was that these groups were lacking one thing that usually goes hand in hand with groups of men...Women. Not one. Even stranger was that these groups of men were HOT. I'm not trying to be shallow, but seriously. I know where all the attractive men have been hiding...KENTUCKY! Unfortunately, sorting them into "sober" and "not sober" categories would have taken days. So we were forced to just enjoy the eye candy.

The Twin Spires of Churchill Downs

Jen and I bet on the ponies. We know we shouldn't have, but we did it anyway. Too bad we didn't put any money on "Mine That Bird"...50:1 odds...Wow.

Anne made fresh chicken salad sandwiches. What is more Derby than fresh chicken salad and coke?

The men next to us tried to by us drinks. All three groups of them. On a couple of different occasions. This led to an interesting opportunity to discuss why we didn't drink, where we went to school, and how we really were just there to have a good time, yes, without alcohol. They were fascinated. One of them wanted to marry Anne. Right then and there. She was "the most beautiful woman [he] had ever seen." By the time we left he "Didn't think he didn't want to never see [her] again." That was probably 4 or 5 mint juleps later. Go figure.

It's all about the Hats.

After the Derby we drove to Charleston, West Virginia and spent the night. Charleston is a cute little mining town with a beautiful capitol building and adorable historic district. We slept in, ate waffles at the hotel and then wandered around taking pictures at the capitol.

Anne, Michelle and Jen in front of the Capitol.

One of my Besties!

Midge and Jen fooling around at the capitol.

One of my all time favorite pics of Michelle.

After enjoying the scenery in Charleston, we drove to Jen's home...Miller Farm, nestled in a little valley just over the Virginia/West Virginia state line. There we had one of the most amazing lunches on record with Mama and Papa Miller and the crew. Farm fresh pork roast, mashed potatoes, hot biscuits, and fresh-picked morels. We were in heaven. After dinner we helped feed the bum-calf, saw the pigs, and enjoyed the fresh mountain air. Made me miss home. After a long and sad goodbye to Miller Farm and all its charms, we drove the rest of the way home and back into the real world. A safe end to a very successful and memorable trip.

I love these girls. They are a priceless part of what makes my life so wonderful. Thanks for an amazing weekend, ladies.

A Memo on Noisy Avian Lovemaking...

2009-05-07T05:49:00.001-07:00

Dear Birds,

In the interest of our future relationship and my personal sanity I feel it is important to address the following issue outright.

I appreciate the difficulty of finding love in this day and age. It is not easy. I cannot imagine it being any easier if you are a Swallow, or a Thrush, or a Dove. Finding a mate is no easy task. Trust me, I know.

I can only imagine the ecstasy one must feel at finally having found "The One." A truly miraculous occurence, no doubt.

However, this does not negate the fact that whilst the better part of your kind are in the throes of springtime joy, there are others of us who are trying to carry on with the general day-to-day of it all.

In short, what I'm trying to say is if we could keep the pre-5am amorous chirping to a minimum (and by minimum I am implying total and complete elimination) that would be fantastic. It's not that I don't appreciate the springtime miracle unfolding outside my window, it's just that I would rather not have to wake up to it before the sun has even considered rousting itself out of its bed.

In conclusion, I think we can make this relationship work. You keep the announcement of early morning lovemaking quiet, and I, in turn, will keep an eye on my neighbor's cat. I also believe such an arrangement will prevent sleep deprivation on my part. This is good for you in that it will prevent me from having a psychotic break from reality which may or may not cause me to throw rocks at your nest come summer. It's your call.

Very Respectfully,

Amanda

Go, Humans, Go!

2009-05-04T07:00:00.000-07:00

Saw THIS on the side of a bus this morning as I was walking to work in the rain...again.

I can't tell if I should be encouraged by the Quaker man, or if he is taunting me as he rushes by, splashing dirty street water on my shoes.

Maybe I should just take the subliminal message for what it is and start eating more Oatmeal.

I still think that mostly I dislike being told what to do...particularly by a smirking Quaker man plastered to the side of a Mass Transit vehicle.

The Universe Hates Me: Part Duh...

2009-04-07T09:31:00.001-07:00

I like to take care of my body.

I work out, I eat right, and I get enough sleep if that is humanly possible.

But, SOMETIMES you just get a craving. And I, personally, think it's okay to give in to those cravings every once in a while.

So today, when I was REALLY craving a nice, juicy burger I decided to forego my usual lunch- time salad and hit the grill. I figured I was justified...I ran 10 miles on Sunday, and had to skip lunch on Monday...so I've got a few calories to spare.

So, I went to the grill. Grabbed my burger and fries and headed back to the desk, probably more excited than I should have been about a burger...especially one from the cafeteria.

When I unwrapped said burger, what I got was not the warm, juicy piece of American beef I had been hoping for...but something that looked a good deal more like a hocky puck, or a charcoal briquette, than something for actual consumption.

Sigh...

Fine Universe. You Win. Lesson Learned.

Dang, I hate it when you're right.

SURPRISE...

2009-04-01T20:16:00.000-07:00

Well, after an overwhelming response on the hair question....

I Did It.

My hairdresser was thrilled that I was finally letting him cut it off. He skipped around the chair like a school boy...detailing every part of the cut...Kind of like when the pilot tells you how he's gonna get you where it says on your ticket on a commercial plane flight...In my head I was thinking "okay, sure...just make it look like the photo..."

Close Enough.

So, you asked for it...You got it! Here are a few pics. Don't ask my why I'm not smiling in any of them. Probably because I had to take them myself (narcissistic, I know...but no one else was around and I had been threatened with pain of death if I didn't post these ASAP) and when I smile in self-photos I look weird. So Deal.

So the question is...Does the New 'Do mean I'll be getting in New Trouble...?

I Certainly Hope So!

Stay Tuned!

A Little Advice, Please...

2009-03-29T06:37:00.001-07:00

Calling All Friends, Family, and Random Readers Who May Have Happened on This Blog Accidentally...

I need some advice.

Don't freak out , it's silly advice. But I'm seeking opinions none-the-less.

It's haircut time again...and I've had the same one for about 2 years...Feeling like it might be time for a change.

I've had my hair all the way from middle-of-my-back long to a barely-jaw-length bob in high school. I've been really happy with the style, lately. It's pretty easy to maintain...Handles the DC humidity...and I can always fall back on a pony tail or a cap over it on really unruly days.

However, when I saw Taraji Henson at the Oscars this year I totally fell in love with her bob and bangs. The guy who cuts my hair has been wanting to cut it short for a while, but I won't let him.

Summer is coming up and I'm wondering if it's time to take the plunge and change it up.

So...I'm seeking the opinions of YOU! Not hard... see the photos below and leave me a comment to let me know what you think.

The Current State of Affairs...

What I'm Thinking About...

So...What do you think? Can I pull this off without a team of expert stylists and a shut-your-mouth-don't-even-mention-how-much-it-costs antique diamond choker?

THIS is what I need to know!

So please, leave a comment and let me know what you think (yes you may post them anonymously...no I will not be offended, regardless...my skin...er...hair (?) is thicker than that). Appointment is on Wednesday. Time is ticking!

My Blog: FAIL

2009-03-27T06:13:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not dead. Just lazy...or busy...or at my wits end. All of the above, perhaps? Who knows. Regardles, this is me apologizing.

Last month I wrote 6 posts. SIX! In February, the shortest month of the year, no less. This month, do you know how many I've written? NONE. Yep. That's right. Not a single one. And this little miniature attempt at redemption is a pretty pathetic excuse for an actual post.

So, since I seem to be no good at keeping up my blog...I will direct you to a much better one. FAILblog.org. Trust me...if you have time to waste (and even if you don't) this is the place for you. Check it: http://failblog.org/ ps: there is a G-rated version...I recommend that one.

When you get done failblogging, should you care to know, here is a mini update on the things coming up in my life...

1.) Cherry Blossom 10 Mile Race...should be an adventure, seeing as how I have done ONE six mile run in the last two weeks...and that's about it. I'll keep you posted. The good news is the blossoms are right on schedule, so at least I'll be surrounded by the beauties of spring while I limp along...if it's not raining that is.

2.) Rehearsing for my upcoming role as "Anna Christensen" a Danish saint who comes to America to join with the church in their exodus to Utah in our Institute choir's upcoming performance of "Witnesses," a musical production relating the tales of the early saints. I not only have to perfect a Danish accent, but also sing a song called "I'll Love Whatever's Left of You" in said accent. I may or may not have to wear a bonnet. More on that later. Embarrassing photos will, no doubt, be provided by Josh D.

3.) Throwing an engagement party for two dear friends who will be getting married in Utah. Beginning to wonder if my calling in life is not in-depth political research and writing, but instead planning and hosting lavish affairs involving tiny food and large floral arrangements.

4.) KATHERINE GETS HOME FROM JAPAN! WOOT!

5.) MUDDY RUN! April 25. So stoked. A 5K race through obstacles including a "river" crossing (we'll see what kind of a river it is...i doubt we'll be fording the Potomac) and two, count them TWO huge mud pits. Ask me how excited I am for this?!? An excuse to get filthy dirty with five of my closest friends, and a bunch of people I don't know! Can't wait (Come on, I grew up on a farm...It's been WAY too long since I got to play in the mud!)

6.) Renting a Winnebago and driving to Kentucky for the Kentucky Derby with some of my best friends. There will also be the purchasing of large, flamboyant hats and coordinating spring attire. Totally worth it for the shopping trip alone!

So, there you have it. That's the short list. And I will leave you with a promise to be a better blogger. Things will slow down here sooner or later...right?

One can only hope.

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly...

2009-02-25T08:03:00.000-08:00

Well, after two days I am still sick. Not sick enough to be passed out in bed, but just sick enough to not be able to go in to work and be stuck in the house bored.

So, after two days of watching Entertainment TV, I decided to do my own best and worst dressed lists for the Oscars. I have to say, I think the bulk of this year's major lists were right on the money, but I had a couple of quibbles and some of my own ideas about who hit and missed on the Red Carpet.

Oh, and did I mention I've been getting pestered about doing one of these by multiple faithful readers? That too...

So, here we go

Stanfill's Sartorial Samplings: 2009 Oscars Best and Worst Dressed

Top 5 Best Dressed Females

Penelope Cruz in vintage Balmain:
Okay, let it be known that I am a HUGE Penelope fan. Her US films, her foreign films, you name it, I probably loved it. And I think that, for the most part, she always looks like a class act. Pair that with her 60+ year old vintage gown that she has been hanging on to for eight years to wear to something "special" (getting an Oscar, check, I think it counts). Toss in the $3M worth of diamonds she wore for the evening and her to-die-for sweetheart bangs and you've got the complete look. She floated down the Red Carpet and I have to say I find the overall effect of a silhouette like this far more pleasing than some of the uber-tight gowns we saw this year. I don't care what kind of body you have, as my daddy says "Every step looks like two pigs fighting under a blanket." Okay, maybe not SO much on the red carpet, but still...she FLOATED. Some argued that the dress looked a little too bridal...I disagree...and I would also submit that if I can look anywhere NEAR this good on my wedding day, I'll take it. Well done, Pen.

Vannessa Hudgens in Marchessa:This pains me. It truly, truly does. To ever have to tip my hat to anyone remotely involved with the bane that is the High School Musical Series is almost more than I can bear. And yet, I feel I owe it to this girl. I have to say, for her age, she rocked the Red Carpet. Her dress was completely AGE APPROPRIATE (SHARON STONE AND MILEY CYRUS ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME!?!). Fun and unstuffy while still sophisticated. The dress was originally knee length and she had the extra bottom layer added to make it more appropriate for the red carpet. While I am usually anti-mermaid, the addition took her from Jessica McClintock Prom Queen to Red Carpet Diva. The earrings and the hair were also right on point. *HOWEVER, I did hear that she compared herself to a young Audrey Hepburn...Girfriend...all I am going to say is DON'T EVER compare yourself to Audrey. Particularly when your body of work includes countless films under the title "High School Musical..." You're talking about the Funny Girl, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Roman Holiday ICON here. Just do yourself a favor and stand in wonder at the force that is and was Audrey Hepburn and DON'T EVER let a reporter catch you saying you think you look like her. Good Grief Girl...Show a little respect.

Tiraji P. Hensen in Roberto Cavalli:

Two words: Rocked It. This gown was tricky and could have gone very quickly from edgy-sophisticated to straight- up Mummy Chic. How many poor actresses have we seen get slammed for trying to rock this look only to be criticized for looking like the dog, the lawnmower, Enron's accounting department (oh, was that out loud?), etc got hold of their dress the night before the ceremony. However, Tiraji's amazing body and expertly coiffed 'do tied it all together. Oh yes, and did I mention the bling? An antique diamond choker that could put the Milky Way to shame. It can be tricky pairing something as fashion forward as this shredded tiered column with something vintage, but this was seriously perfect. She may have even inspired me to go with short hair for summer. I love the A-line bob with the dramatic bangs. Add in her satiny skin and amazing eyes and it's a 10! Much love for Tiraji.

Anne Hathaway in Armani Prive':

Again, this is a little painful, because I have tried for a very long time to hate on this girl (mostly out of loyalty to dear cousin Emily; Hathaway dated one of Em's ex-boyfriends, and we had sworn a pact to loathe her all our days...it's just what you do) but I can do it no longer. She rocks my socks as far as fashion is concerned. She looks like a million bucks ALL THE TIME. Now, given, it's hard to look bad in Armani, this dress still had it's little tricks. For starters, I, as a general rule, have a paillete problem...and this dress was COVERED in 'em. However, it worked. She worked. IT ALL JUST WORKED. She was like her own flashbulb. Skin: Flawless. Hair: Classic. Makeup: Perfection. Pair it with her Megawatt personality and humble, yet confident persona and she's a winner in my book. My only quibble is she is still looking a little skinny, which pains me. However, given the trauma she's been through lately with her ex-hubby in the clink and all, I'd say she looks pretty dang fabulous. In my humble opinion, if anyone in Hollywood today can come anywhere NEAR touching Ms. Hepburn, it would be Anne, although she still has a ways to go. Take a note V.

Natalie Portman in Rodarte:Portman was a total darkhorse for me this year. I had gotten so used to seeing her in these trippy Star Wars Princess Amidala inspired get-ups that I had sort of given up on her doing anything noteworthy. And honestly, when would I ever pick a pepto-pink gown for a best dressed award? Granted, this is still a little Grecian Goddess, which is a staple in Natalie's Red Carpet attire, but the overall look is fantastic. Not many people can wear "Hubba-Bubba" pink and make it look this good, but with her skin tone, it's a fantastic choice and a few of this year's white/beige sporting starlets could have taken a cue from her daring-do. The hair, also fantastic and the diamond studs were superb. I would have liked to see a little more bling around her neck (something simple a' la Penelope Cruz's sparkler) but when you've got skin like hers, who really needs it? Now if only we could melt the ice off that stare of hers...

Top 5 Best Dressed Males

Brad Pitt in Tom Ford:What can I say Tom Ford makes a nice suit, and when you put Brad Pitt in it, what else could it be but magic? Also, a small note, The caps on the buttons on his shirt are actually 24K-gold rimmed black diamonds. Nicely Done. Can we also get some quick love for Angie's crush-worthy emerald earrings and knuckle crushing emerald ring? Wow.

Sean Penn in Armani:
Not gonna lie...the black on black on black is a gamble. But Penn pulls it off with incredible style. For starters, the cut and tailoring of this suit is nothing short of impeccable. In general, a suit is a suit is a suit, but when it fits like this it is magic. Also, the woven texture of the long tie against the other blacks and the sheen of the satin lapels and buttons on his tux give a lot interest and sophistication to something that could have otherwise turned very dark and brooding very quickly. A quick shout out to his serious arm-candy of a wife too...She looked flawless.

Robert Downey Jr. in Someone Who Should be Getting Paid More:Someone please tell me when was the last time we saw RDJ looking this good? Wow. I didn't even RECOGNIZE him in the first few photos I saw. Wow. The suit is perfect, his hair looks amazing, and who knew he had such chiseled features under all that scruff we've been putting up with for so long. Have I said Wow yet? Chalk one up to a hot shower and a well-timed trip to the barber.

Hugh Jackman in Burberry, Shoes by Salvatore Ferragamo:
Okay, can't lie...Jackman could wear a potato sack (which I might prefer) and still look amazing. His rogue-ish good looks translated perfectly on stage and he was probably one of the best Oscar Hosts I've seen. Not too mention he looked amazing. He chucked the traditional cummerbund for a vest that made this look perfect. The deep V jacket and scooped vest only served to emphasize his incredible physique. The charmingly off-kilter bow-tie and Aussie accent didn't hurt either.

Robert Pattinson in Dolce & Gabbana:This also pains me. What is it about young Hollywood that I find so obnoxious as of late...oh wait, maybe the fact that they are no longer in my own personal age bracket and I am a little bitter...tear. Anyway...I have to hand it to Robert, seeing as how he has 3/4 of the female population of THE WORLD eating out of his hand (yes I saw the movie, yes it made a little short of breath, yes I am exorbitantly embarrassed by both of these facts) it would have been easy for him to show up in pretty much whatever he wanted...you know, flex his "I'm young and hot and who's gonna tell me I can't wear ripped jeans and a feather boa with aviators to the Oscars?" muscles (past offenders, you know who you are). Instead, he showed up in head to toe classic Dolce & Gabbana and maintained his youth and rakish charm with unkempt hair and just a wee bit of scruff. Well played, you too-young-for-me hottie, you.

Top 5 Worst Dressed Females

Sophia Loren in I Can't Even Think About It Too Hard:

Sophia...Seriously. Three things. 1.) You are ITALIAN, darling! I shudder to think at the endless numbers of your well-heeled patriarchy rolling over in their collective graves as we speak! 2.) You are a FASHION ICON...I don't care how old you're getting, we REALLY don't need another Elizabeth Taylor situation on our hands here 3.) No one with Olive skin (okay, or black, white, brown, red, yellow, blue, green I DON'T CARE WHAT COLOR YOUR SKIN IS) looks good in a hue inspired by Egg Drop Soup. Fortune Cookie Say: You Lose, Sophie. Better Luck Next Year, Bella.

Mylie Cyrus in Zuhair MuradMiley, Miley, Miley...Give it a few more years, okay, hunny? Seriously. This dress is truly stunning (despite a sort of overwhelming seashell/scallop theme that is enough to send anyone with a severe enough shellfish allergy into anaphylactic shock)...stunning, that is, if you're a 7 foot glamazon on the runway in Milan...not so much the cute and perky Tween star with an alter-ego. Poor Miley, at her age, to already have two identities and now be bucking for a third as a mature, sophisticated Red Carpet fashion staple is just too much. What Miley needs to do is take a note from Vannessa Hudgens and stick to something more her age. She's got the goods, cute smile, great little body...she needs to live it up while she can still wear the edgy youthful fashion. Plenty of time for mature sophistication...just look at Helen Miren. Although, somehow I have my doubts that Miss Cyrus' career will be quite so long and illustrious as Dame Miren's. Just a Hunch.

Beyonce' in House of Dereon (shocker):
This is also painful. I like Beyonce', really, I do. But every awards season we have to watch her walk the Red Carpet in one of her mother's monstrosities and then get slammed from all sides about it the next day. If I were Beyonce', I think I would just have to pull mom aside before awards season started and have a little chat about "branching out." Seriously. It's a disaster. This dress is like something you would find on Bram Stoker's mantle. Her cleavage is cramped, the mermaid fishtail is almost unforgivable, and the restricted range of motion is going to insure that she does not outrun ANY of the paparazzi taking her "Worst Dressed" photo. Poor Girl. Beyonce' would be a dream to dress...she's got one of the most amazing bodies in Hollywood, amazing skin, flawless features, the hair, you name it...but she insists on sticking with her mom's disaster-destined label. I don't know what kind of mother does this to their daughter, but seriously...Beyonce' needs to start taking it personally.

Jessica Biel in Prada
Small Sartorial Note: When in Doubt DO NOT ATTACH A DEFLATED DERIGIBLE TO YOUR DECOLLATAGE! Yikes. Seriously, Justin Timberlake has had hangovers that were less sloppy than this ensemble. It's just really unfortunate all the way around. Jessica Biel is gorgeous and has, arguably, on of the best bodies in Hollywood. I also happen to love Prada, so the fact that the two of these generally beautiful entities have come together to form such a total and utter disaster is really a shame. First off, this dress plus her skin tone = no good. She could have taken a hint and gone for something in a more vibrant hue a la Natalie Portman (anybody remember her gorgeous grape colored number from a year or two back?). Secondly...speaking of Enron's accounting department (oh dangit, I did it again) they seem to have gotten a hold of her hair. Either curl it or straighten it...or get up earlier before the show...or somethin'. Also, while you can't see them in this photo, she was wearing closed-toe black satin librarian-esque pumps. Heaven Help Us. Where was Prada on that one, I ask you? On an upnote, her jewels were flawless and whoever styled her makeup did a knockout job. Not a total loss.

Kate Winslet in Yves Saint Laurent:
Just stick with me for a second here. You have to know that I am a huge KW fan. I kept liking her even after she did Titanic. I think she picks stellar roles and I think she is a strong and admirable person. I also am aware that the things I am about to say might qualify as a capital offense in the UK (pretty sure they have a guillotine still operating in the Tower of London for just such purposes). However, I have to say I think this was a miss for Miss Winslett. The colors, for starters, were not great for her. Her alabaster skin and blonde hair are complemented so beautifully by, well, by pretty much anything other than gun-metal grey and black. In addition to that, Kate is classic old Hollywood. She screams old Hollywood and always looks amazing when she is styled that way. This dress, however, is decidedly forward leaning fashion and it clashes with her still classically sculpted coif. It's like two ends of the spectrum fighting over who will win and it just ends up in a big jumble, with pretty Kate in the middle of it. I have to say No, despite the aclaim it received from other fashion gurus. I'm sticking to my guns on this one. One other note...this dress ballparks for around $50K...if you're going to wear a dress that costs $50,000, you better look fabulous. I don't care if it's borrowed or not!

Top 5 Worst Dressed Males

Phillip Seymore Hoffman in Someone Who's Getting Paid Too MuchActually, we aren't even going to dignify this with 5 entire entries because Phillip Seymore Hoffman looked SO BAD that is made up for all the rest of the potential winners. Good grief, he even managed to trump Mickey Rourke, who looked like a disaster, by the way. Rumor has it, however, that he just lost his much-loved pooch, so we'll give him a pass for grieving purposes...RIP Loki. ANWAY, back to PSH. A Beanie? Really? You're going to come to the biggest awards show of the year in a black woolen beanie? I know haircare takes time and effort, but seriously...you're PSH for crying out loud...pay someone to shlack a ponytail on there for you and call it good. In addition to that, he also chose to wear a vest, however, in contrast to Hugh Jackman's impecabbly fitting vest and jacket, Hoffman's just looks kind of like a shiny sausage casing. Probably not such a smart move. Forgive him Father, for this Doubt star has sinned...Big Time.

Honorable Mentions:

Tina Fey in Zac Posen

Love Tina Fey, and I think she's beautiful...it's also rare that you see her looking so elegant. Bu she looks a little too much like King Tut's sarcophogus in this dress. Big time props on the hair though...she looked gorgeous no doubt about it.

Jennifer Anniston in Valentino
One of the best looks I've seen Jennifer wear. Props to her, as well, on being totally cool headed while presenting like 5 feet away from Brangelina. If the goal was to look as gorgeous as possible, she definitely did the job. Also, quick shout out to her arm candy for the evening, John Mayer...he looked fab as well.

Sarah Jessica Parker in Dior Haute Couture
A lot of people loved this dress, but the boobs were just a leeeeetle much for me. I love SJP's style, she's got it in spades, but this dress made the cliff houses at Cuenca look like Erector Set Jr. stuff compared to the architectural feat that is holding up her decollatage. Who knew Dior did seismically sound couture?

Amy Adams in Carolina Herrera, Necklace by Fred Leighton
Truth be told, I loved this look, but I know it was a little much. The dress was knockout, the collar was to die for, but together they were just a little over powering. Next year Amy,darling, you're gonna get 'em next year!

Tilda Swinton in Lanvin
I know, you're scratching your head abou this one. I love this women and I think she is a theatrical force in and of herself. Her style, however is decidedly avant garde, which makes it tough to wear on the red carpet. This, quite frankly is a great choice for her. I was impressed. If you're having trouble believing me just check out some of her past selections and you might get my point.

Well, that's it. My Oscar's 2009 fashion wrap. It's just too much work to try and cover the after parties and everything too, so if you have faves that you thought were left out leave me a note and I'll check them out. Disagree with me? Let me know. I want to hear your faves as well as the ones that maybe you didn't think were so great. Maybe there will even be a "Gems We Missed" post to recap some of the diamonds in the rough. Hope you Enjoyed. Until Next Year!

The Universe Hates Me...

2009-02-23T19:01:00.000-08:00

I had the best of intentions.

Monday's are great days for starting fresh, and after a very fun weekend with my fabulous grandparents in NYC I was feeling refreshed and invigorated and ready to take the world by storm.

At work I was going to be newly focused, more productive...Spend less time running from point A to point B and more time producing desired product C. I was going to charm my new boss with my wit and intellect and propose some stunning new project so innovative he couldn't help but be impressed.

In the gym I was going to...okay, fine, I was going to get IN the gym. Period. The new work/commute has thrown a wrench in my gym schedule and it's been WAY to cold to run outside. Yes I have a 10 miler coming up in a little over a month. No I have not really been training (by really, I mean at all).

I was going to go to FHE. Not gonna lie, my attendance as of late has been spotty at best. Sometimes one just gets a little overwhelmed with it all, and I've sort of been on church detox. Still attending the 3 hour block (of course, that goes without saying) but I had sort of declared a short moratorium on extraneous meetings/activities. However, I was feeling ready to jump back in the fray, and we were going to be at one of the bishopric members' houses, so it promised to be a good time.

This all would have happened, if the universe didn't hate me.

For starters, work was, well, let's just say it didn't go quite as planned and the morning was spent, well, the morning was spent not quite as I had planned.

Then, around three o'clock I felt it. That achy-neck feeling. Then came the chills. When your hands are so cold there's no possible way for you to tell if you actually have a fever, or if everything feels hot because they are like ice.

The aches kept getting worse and turned into that spine twisting "yep, you're as sick as you think" feeling and then my insides started feeling like they wanted to be on my outsides.

So I may be stubborn, but I know when I'm a danger to those around me, so I took off early and headed home. The metro ride was miserable, and there was more than one moment where I had to think to myself "am I willing to ruin this BRAND NEW purse to save the people around me from a VERY unpleasant experience?" Thankfully, I never had to answer the question in earnest.

By the time I got home I was a shivering, quivering mess. So, I piled on the flannel and sweat shirts and got in bed. And here I am...5 hours later...still sick, still with that spine twisting "your body hates you" feeling, still with the chills, and still with the, yeah...everything else...but hoping against hope that it's just a 24 hour thing and not a repeat of the crab cake debacle of three weeks ago.

On the upside...I did lose roughly 6 lbs in approximately 4 days during said debacle.

There's always a silver lining.

YUPdates -OR- Is It Friday Yet? ...

2009-02-18T16:04:00.000-08:00

YUPdates (Young Urban Professional updates) may or may not become a series...but don't get your hopes up. Mostly I just was a little at loose ends at work today so I actually wrote down some of the odd thoughts that I had...Nothing special, so don't get too excited.

For Starters...

1. Why do people expect me to love the cold just because I'm from MT? Why would I love something that makes it difficult and unpleasant to get around in any more just because I grew up with it. If anything this means I've been putting up with it for the last 26 years and could use a break. When I told my officemate I didn't like the cold (while we were both shaking the snow out of our hair and changing out of our boots after a long, cold, wet walk from the metro, btw) she looked at me like I had told her I didn't think I needed my kidneys. Either of them.

2. I have been filling out a lot of paperwork lately for a temporary assignment in a new office. A lot of this paperwork involves my personal information, including my birthday. When the people in charge of filling out the paperwork ask me my birthday I tell them "10-13-1982." Inevitably they look up at me from under their eyebrows and say "1982?" To which I say "Yes." Inevitably they shake their heads and sigh and mutter about "kids running the world these days" or something equally as ridiculous. Does my heart good.

In Addi(c)tion to That...

3. Every morning when my new boss takes his B-12 supplement he insists that I take a B-12 supplement. It is becoming something of a ritual. He suspects I am deficient. I had no idea there was a sight test for B-12 deficiency. I also have no idea what the symptoms or detriments of being B-12 deficient are. Actually, I have no idea what one needs B-12 for anyway. I also have no way of confirming that what he is giving me is actually B-12. Thus far, however, I have not lost control of any of my motor skills or major bodily functions and have had no hallucinatory* experiences, so I guess I'm safe. Also, I think I am slowly winning him over. You gotta do what you gotta do. *Note: I may have made up this word...

4. On the trash cans in the cafeteria at my office there are signs that say "Did you remember to Recycle?" The only disposable materials available at the cafeteria are made of Styrofoam and bleached white plastic. There are also no recycling bins. I find this ironic. And disheartening.

Oh Yes, And Also This...

5. Some people get mid-afternoon munchy cravings. I get mid-afternoon music cravings. Working in a sanitized environment, I cannot bring in my media devices, and thus get pretty desperate for my favorite tunes. Today at about 3:00pm I got the craziest urge to listen to The Killers. I needed it. Like a drug. I could hear my favorite songs from the latest album running through my head over and over. Needless to say you know what I rocked on the metro ride home. *Note: I should clarify that I DO get mid-afternoon munchy cravings in addition to my mid-afternoon music cravings. Lately it's been sweet potato fries...with a vengeance.

On A More Serious Note...

6. The effects of a lagging economy are becoming more visible in DC. One of the escalators at the metro station I use for my morning commute (at one of the busier stations in the city, by my calculations) has been broken for nearly 2 weeks, causing massive backups on the working escalators and contributing to general congestion of the station. Let's just say if there was a fire it would be heap big problems. Not only has the escalator been out of commission for nearly 2 weeks, but during those 2 weeks I have yet to see anyone actually working on fixing the thing. In the past, such a breakdown would have had maintenance crews working round the clock to fix the problem within one or two days. I suspect the city has had to lay off metro maintenance employees to deal with budget crunches. I say 'suspect' because I am too lazy to do the actual research. This is why I am an armchair expert of many things.

That is All.

25 Things...

2009-02-16T07:30:00.000-08:00

Okay, I can't count how many times I have been "tagged" with this thing, and I have resisted. Truly, I would say I have made a valiant effort to get out of doing it...but due to a dearth in creativity and worthy blogging material, I've caved.

So here's the deal, I put down 25 things about myself and then "tag" my friends to do the same. If you're reading, consider yourself tagged. Given this is my blog those are going to be my rules...so if you're reading (and yes, up to this point counts, so quit trying to squirm out of it by closing that tab...too late, buddy) you'd better start making your list.

So, here goes...25 mild to moderately useless things about yours truly...should anyone care to know.

1. I went to two high schools. I was not popular at either of them.

2. I got my tongue stuck to our satellite dish when I was 4 or 5 years old. I scooped up a pile of snow and was going to lick it off. I missed. Not pretty.

3. I am embarrassed by a fair amount of the music on my ipod. That doesn't mean I don't listen to it on occasion.

4. Sleeping Beauty is my all-time favorite Disney Classic.

5. I have a strange fascination and affinity for religious iconography. I like to collect objects related to religious practices of the world. My friends think I'm an idol worshiper.

6. If money were not an object and I could reinvent myself through a new career I would go to culinary school and eventually open my own restaurant. Probably specializing in Mediterranean Cuisine.

7. Personal fantasy: Walking the catwalk in a huge runway show. Alas, I am 5'4" and my face is a little crooked...I still think I could rock it, though.

8. My preferred reading genre is historical fiction.

9. I need music in my life to survive. I think one of the worst possible things that could happen to me would be to go deaf. I almost always have music playing, and when I can't play it I hear it in my head. Beautiful music fills me up in a way that I cannot describe.

10. Sometimes I'm too honest. I don't like to hold things back. I don't think it's fair to you or to me. If I feel something I will probably say it. Sorry.

11. I like green things.

12. Sometimes I get in strange moods. These usually involve me listening to a lot of Regina Specter, wearing clothes that only sort of match, and me doing something less than flattering with my hair. Luckily, these do not last for very long.

13. My parents rock.

14. I love to cook. However, I am chronically lazy, which means I rarely cook for myself. If I invite you over for dinner, please say yes because it gives me an excuse to cook good food, and I will eat well, too. Otherwise, I will probably have toast for dinner. It's mutually beneficial, so just go with it.

15. I had LASIK surgery on 4 December. My vision is now 20/15. I have no idea why I waited until I was 26.

16. My current favorite day-dream is coming home after a tough day at work to a man who just wants to sit on the sofa and hold me for a while. He doesn't have to make dinner or clean the apartment or even want to talk about why the day was hard or try to fix it. Just hold me for a while. It's a good one.

17. I'm a dog person.

18. Someday I would like to have a garden. Nothing big or ambitious...just somewhere I can grow herbs and tomatoes and tulips. For now I will just have to make-do with the pots on my deck.

19. I get super jealous. It's one of the things about my personality/character that I HATE. I hate being jealous and I think it's a direct symptom of insecurity. I've tried to cure it, but thus far not much luck. On the flip side I am also viciously loyal, a characteristic that I am sort of proud of. Do not cross my friends...I will hunt you.

20. I was 1st runner-up in my high school's Jr. Miss pageant. It's a SCHOLARSHIP PROGRAM. I won the "Poise and Composure" portion of the competition. Sometimes I think I'm regressing in the "poise and composure" portion of my life. Aish.

21. I have always wanted to take one year of my life and spend the entire winter working as a liftie at a ski resort and the entire summer working on a scuba boat in the Caribbean. An entire year of skiing and diving...I can imagine nothing better.

22. I love to dance. It's on my genetic code. If there is music with any kind of beat I cannot hold still. It doesn't matter how exhausted I am or how uncomfortable my shoes are, I have to move my body.

23. Each of my younger sisters is a role model for me. Each one has characteristics that I admire and want to emulate. They are truly amazing women.

24. I went through a REALLY long awkward stage...Like from age 11 to...oh, I dunno...roughly 22 or so. Sometimes I still feel like I am recovering.

25. I'm an art junky. I think this is directly related to the fact that I have NO artistic ability whatsoever...but have always wished that I had. When I lived in Spain my friends stopped going to the Prado with me. I can sit and stare for hours. I love feeling like I have made a personal connection with a painting.

So, there you have it. 25 random things about me. Probably more than some of you EVER wanted to know. I will be expecting your lists shortly.

I'm A Sell Out...

2009-02-07T06:49:00.001-08:00

I did it. I admit it.

I went against every sartorial principle that is dear to me, and I bought them. A pair of Uggs.

They are grey. They are ugly. They are obnoxiously trendy. I bought them anyway.

I have always maintained, and still feel rather strongly, that these are quite possibly the ugliest form of footwear known to man. And if not that, at least the worst thing to happen to fashion since the Burkenstock. But I couldn't help myself.

I've started a new work assignment that requires me to take the metro during the early morning hours and then walk another 10-15 mins from the station to my office. This doesn't sound like much, I know, but it's been FREEZING and I finally decided I needed to something to protect me from the cold.

So I did it. I caved. Completely. I sold my soul to the Ugly-As-Sin-But-Inexplicably-Popular Footwear Gods. For full price. I make myself sick.

So after a heinously cold week of waiting they finally arrived yesterday.

The creepy thing is, I can't take them off. I have no desire to take them off. I want to wear them EVERYWHERE...with EVERYTHING.

I think these boots have powers. Mystical, dark powers that have made them a fashion staple despite a design that breaks every rule of fashion known to man.

I hang my head in shame...but that doesn't mean I'm taking off my boots.

Should I happen to purchase a pair of leggings or skinny jeans at any point in the future please perform an intervention. I may not be strong enough to save me from myself.

Groundhog's Day...

2009-02-02T18:07:00.001-08:00

As promised, a quickie...

Today is Groundhog's Day.

I hate that $%&# groundhog*. I hate him because he never tells me what I want to hear.

I want him to tell me spring is a'comin'...like tomorrow. But no. All I ever get is "6 more weeks of winter." I hate that hog.

I spent 20 minutes of my meeting today not focused on how Democratization in Korea affects the Economy...but wondering to myself which side of my apartment complex's pool deck gets the best sun, and thinking I should scope that out soon so I can be sure to maximize my time this summer... When I snapped back to I looked around the room and saw that at least 10 others were glazed over from the tryptophan in their turkey sandwiches...so I checked back out and had a lovely day dream involving me, the sun, and the latest installment of Bon Apetit Magazine...

Sigh...

What is it about the word "February" that just gets a girl depressed?

*Note: Blame Grandpa.

Blogiversary: 1 Year of Bliss...

2009-01-26T16:52:00.000-08:00

So, maybe this is an indication of how I will be when I get married (Inshallah it happens one of these days) but my Blogiversary was over a week ago (January 17th, to be exact) and I haven't said a single word about it. So I'm celebrating...late, but still celebrating.

I blame this, first and foremost, on the fact that I was in Mexico City that weekend and wasn't about to spend precious vacay time behind a computer. Not that I don't love my bloggie...but, well, yeah, I shouldn't have to defend myself in this particular case. More on the idyllic 5 days in sunny Mexico to come...photos, overdone literary descriptions of countless vistas, and third-circle worthy accounts of the copious amounts of REAL Mexican food that we consumed...the whole deal.

Anyway...back to the blog. So, I have to say I have been really glad that I started the blog. It's been a great way for me to keep in touch with my friends and family, as well as catalogue some of the truly amazing experiences I've had in the last year, as well as tell some of my favorite stories.

So, in light of the one year blogiversary, I thought I would put down a few New Year's Blogolutions (that one doesn't work quite as well as Blogiversary, does it?) as well as open up the forum to comments, questions, requests and suggestions.

So, I thought of a few things I wanted to try to do this year to maximize my blogging (and in turn the reading of my faithful followers). Here are a few ideas:

Start a series of some sort (I am open to suggestions)
Fewer monster posts and more smaller snippets and random commentary on things I've seen/heard/thought about...lucky you
Complete at least one full photo essay
Recount more of my childhood experiences
Insert more links...everyone deserves a little YouTube
Write more interactive posts (ie posts that solicit responses from readers)
Tweak my HTML to use the space more efficiently (don't count on this happening any time in the too near future...me + technology = big problems)
Write more about the things I've learned (life, faith, love, friends, politics, language, culture, you name it...sometimes it's good to talk about the lessons we learn)

So there are a few changes I've been wanting to implement to make the bloggie better. I turn, I am soliciting input from my faithful readers. Let me know what you think:

Suggestions
Requests for posts/stories
Constructive Criticism
Superfluous Praise
General Comments

I've opened up my comments section to allow for anonymous comments so you don't even have to sign up for a google account to leave your thoughts! I do it all for the fans! Okay, just kidding...I'm over myself. Seriously though, you're comments are what keep me going.

To start the year out right, here's a little activity for your Tuesday 2:00pm post-lunch food coma (come on, I know that's when you're reading this...I promise I won't tell your boss)...Peruse the bloggie and shoot me a note...let me know what your favorite post of last year was, and, if you feel so inclined, the one you liked the least. This will give me a good idea of what people might like to see...And like I said, it's all for you!

So, here's to all those who talked me into starting this thing in the first place, and to those of you who encourage (read harrass) me to keep up regular (okay, okay, semi-regular) posts. You know who you are!

Here's lookin' at you, Bloggie! And to the year full of blissful blogging yet to come!

Waking Up in Assateague...

2009-01-13T23:07:00.000-08:00

For those of you who don't know, I don't like to be cold. I know, I grew up in Montana, went to school in Utah, and I should be used to it by now. Wrong. I love to ski, love the snow, but if I can't be slaloming down the slopes than I don't want to deal with it.

That said, the last thing I could possibly think of being classified as a "good time" is going to the ocean in northern Virginia in JANUARY and sleeping OUTSIDE in a TENT. You can see how I'm feeling about this.

So when my friend Ben emailed me and suggested New Year's Camping I told him he was crazy. Then he told me the plan was to go to Assateague Island, a state wildlife sanctuary on the coast and one of the only places in the United States where you can see herds or wild horses.

*NOTE: Sucker for animals...particularly horses

Soooo I told Ben to talk me into it...and then he hit me with this "When have I ever taken you on an adventure that wasn't fun?" Dang. He had a good point. Ben has taken me on some good adventures and they are always fun. Shoot. Okay, fine...why not. How bad can one night of mild to moderate hypothermia be, right?

All I have to say was, I am incredibly glad I went. It turned out to be one of the coolest experiences that I have had out here.

Assateague is beautiful. The sand of the island is white and sparkly and looks like sugar scattered in the grass and covering the beaches. The sugar sand paired with the thin layer of frost covering the scrubby ground and reedy trees made everything sparkle in the moonlight while we drove around the island looking for a campsite and set up our tent.

It was a clear night and the moon illuminated the bay lapping the edge of our campsite and the lights of the nearest town sparkled far off on the opposite shore. The clump of trees behind our campsite was silhouetted against the moon creating a perfect semblance of a giant and somewhat friendly looking Tyrannosaurus Rex.

So, the night was cold and long. Okay, fine to be honest and fair the night was not that cold. I guess that is what happens when you put three not tiny people in a tiny two man tent. (*Note: Two man tent does not mean two men and whoever else you can shove in there. In case you were ever tempted. Whatever, we were warm.) The biggest problem for me was I have a bit of a problem with claustrophobia and after 6 hours of feeling like I was sleeping in a coffin I woke up on the verge of a panic attack.

This actually worked out well for me. I got up just before 6. (*Another Note: This doesn't happen voluntarily...EVER) Neither of the guys were ready to get up yet, but I guessed they problem didn't want to see me go postal, so I quickly vacated the tent and started the fire going.

The sun hadn't come up yet, and I watched the leeward side of the island be washed in deep blues and violets, then pinks, golds, and oranges. It was like everything sparkled. The complete absence of pollution and heat left the air totally void of anything that might impair viewing the scene with perfect clarity. I honestly have never seen anything quite like it.

We got up, made breakfast and enjoyed the crystal cold of the morning. As we were packing camp, a stallion and his small group of mares wandered into our campsite. The horses of Assateague are short and scrubby like the trees that grows near the shore. Although these tough little ponies are not necessarily much to look, it was beautiful to see them and know that this was one of the last places we could see a sight like this.

We packed camp, spent a few minutes at the Visitor's Center learning some more about the other wildlife of Assateague and went for a short walk along the windward shore. We drove to Annapolis, taking turns passing out/driving along the way. Let it be known that I DO NOT SNORE! Just wanted to put that out there. We gorged ourselves on crabcake and gelato and then returned to Arlington to end our adventure. It was definitely one for the books, despite my initial trepidation over the sub-freezing temperatures.

Point Team Ben.

Below are some of the photos I took on the trip. There's no possible way that these can capture the beauty of the whole trip, but it's a start. Enjoy.

Before the sun really started coming up

More Pink

On the Bay

Ice and Bushes

A Little Bit of Man Over Nature

Bare Branches

Our VERY Little Tent

The Car...Yes, Ben did bring the surfboard...Just In Case... You can kind of see the T-Rex in the trees behind the car...

Then the Ponies Showed Up...

Ponies on the Beach

Misty on Assateague

I'm Artsy, No?

Ben and Brian on the Beach

Happy 2009!

Yes, Virginia, There IS A Problem With America Today...

2008-12-22T10:52:00.000-08:00

Okay, I admit it, this is a rant, which I don't usually do, and I KNOW it's close to the holidays, a fact that should dissuade me from ranting, but I felt morally obligated to pull up the soap box for this one...

The bottom line is

I have a problem with this...

The text quoted by the stars featured in the commercial is the response to a letter written to the New York Sun newspaper in 1897. In the letter 8 year old Virginia O'Hanlon asks if there is really a Santa Claus. Here is the original letter written by Virginia, and the full response of Sun newsman Francis Pharcellus. *Full text courtesy of Newseum.org **emphasis added

"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, 'If you see it in the Sun, it's so.' Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?"

Virginia O'Hanlon.
115 West Ninety-Fifth Street

"VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood."

So, is it just me, or does anyone else have a problem with one of the nation's largest and most successful department stores using (read exploiting) this heartfelt composition that defends love, faith and the beauty of things unseen for their own corporate gain? Yes, I understand that Macy's will donate to the "Make A Wish" foundation, and that is what they are supposed to be promoting here, but I find it ironic that the people chosen to promote this campaign and quote this truly beautiful text from which we might all learn a lesson about selflessness, faith, and a belief in the beauty of the unseen are the symbols of a moral bankruptcy that appears to be sweeping our nation.

A few examples...

Jessica Simpson...you've seen the music videos, the tiny costumes...you may have even (unfortunately) seen some of her attempts at acting. I cannot get behind a girl who renewed a furor for hot pants. Not impressed.

Donald Trump...in my mind one of the sleaziest men alive and an irrefutable example of corporate America's tendency to vaunt itself above the principles of kindness, selflessness and decency

Tommy Hilfiger...One of the brands that has become a symbol of American consumerism...at least all of us know a "Hilfiger Guy/Girl" no comment on the guy as an individual, but still...

Martha Stewart...REALLY?!? MARTHA STEWART? The woman went to PRISON for stock manipulation and LYING to the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission to save her own (already very VERY rich, may I add) butt...and THIS is the woman Macy's has chosen as a spokesperson for spreading the spirit of Christmas? Aish...

Yes, I know all of these people design for Macy's and have extensive clothing, perfume, furnishing lines in their store, but REALLY? They had to take the heartfelt response of a true believer and put it in the mouths of some of the people who are responsible (in my humble opinion) for propagating some of the greatest ills in our country (okay, they're not selling drugs or porn, exactly, but still...Donald Trump?!? Come On...) They might as well have put the Enron guy in there, just for good measure.

So, I'm interested to know what other people's reaction was when they saw this commercial...Am I being too sensitive? Overreacting? Overdramatic? Surely not, since I never do any of those things...Right? What are other people's thoughts on this? Anybody have any other "great travesties against the American public" they would be willing to share?

Serve it up...

In Gratitude...

2008-12-16T22:02:00.000-08:00

Yes, I know Thanksgiving was almost a month ago...

Better Late than Never.

SO I am counting this as a general post of gratitude precipitated by the Thanksgiving holiday but carrying over into the very blessed Christmas season.

Don't judge me, I've been busy...

Also,

I hope this does not come across as trite...it is not meant to be...

I didn't get to go home for Thanksgiving this year, about which I was truly bummed. To be honest, Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. I think it is because when I truly take the time to make an honest reflection on the blessings that I have received in my life, I cannot help but be overcome with the most incredible feeling of peace and love. When I look at my life, there is no question in my mind that I have a loving Father in Heaven who knows me personally and is aware of my needs, joys, and sorrows and who sends me blessings and trials alike to deepen my faith and strengthen my character.

I was sad that I didn't get to go home this year to be with my family, unquestionably the greatest blessing in my life. However, I was lucky enough to be able to spend the day with a large group of old and new friends alike who, in the absence of nearby family, have truly come together to form a group that is as close to family as one can come without the bloodline to account for it.

It was a day spent full of joy found in preparing each others' meal, laughter at the concurrent bliss and discomfort that comes with eating oneself into oblivion, and a general feeling of peace and comfort in enjoying each others company. It was a day that made me so grateful to have not only a family who loves and cares about me deeply, but friends who feel like family.

One of our activities for the day was gathering all present into the living room and going around the circle with each person saying one thing they were thankful for. Consistently, each person had a difficult time choosing just one thing. It was truly a testament to the blessings in our lives. The exercise made me, once again, acutely aware of the numberless reasons I have to be thankful. So, in honor of the holiday season in which we find ourselves, I have compiled a list of things I am thankful for. Not a general list like family, a warm place to sleep, a job that provides for my needs, (although I am deeply grateful for all these things) but a more specific list of moments and memories tied to the people who are dearest to me. Many of you may recognize yourelves in this list, and there is a reason for that...it is because you have been part of my life and have changed and blessed me in some way, for which I am truly grateful.

I am Thankful That:

You are my biggest fan, even when it's hard.
You let me wear your irrigating boots, even though they were 10 sizes too big, and everything else that went along with it.
You have a neverending positive attitude, even when it's all falling apart.
You have a level head, even in the pursuit of perfection.
You have a kind and unjudging heart that I seek to emulate.
You have unconditional love for someone I care about deeply.
You taught me the value of etiquette and a good picnic table.
You came home with M&M's in your pockets...always.
You taught me the value of a good meal, the scriptures, and a good crochet hook (despite my terminal failure at the craft).
You are always willing to dance a jig, particularly when your joints are cooperating.
You were the best penpal a girl could have.
You are strong and kind and never speak ill of those around you.
You will always call me 'Dude'.
You are smart and witty and one of the hippest moms I know.
You are both the first to gather around the piano.
Your home is always open.
I know you love me, even when I give you a hard time about being cranky.
You are truly my sister, my friend, and will always be the better half of the 'SSS' should a good windstorm ever present itself.
You made her happier than I've ever seen her, and have become a true and trusted friend.
You are always there for your friends and family is always first.
You are fun and accomplished, and his perfect match.
You are always up for a road trip and you love to move it move it.
You were not afraid of one of my more unsightly breakdowns and we've shared some of the worst moments in cinematic history together.
Getting ready for a dance together is sure to make the evening a winner, and are half of the classiest duo I know.
We are always up for a coffee break, even though we don't drink coffee, and everything that goes with it.
You are always up for a trip to the beach and a good girls only cuddle session.
You will never turn down a chance to get your Boot Scoot on.
You have convinced me to love you despite your crazy facial hair.
You are the most impeccable combination of eloquence, quirkiness, witt, joy, and sincerity that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting in human form.
You are a dancer. Period.
You, my dear, have a way with words, and are the most accomplished bargain shopper I know.
You are motivation personified, and know how to make data entry at 2AM a reasonably enjoyable experience.
You make communism look good. Real good.
We met one night over virgin daqueris, free chips and salsa and a slightly awkward bet, but now I wouldn't trade ya.
You introduced me to the joy of eating pudding cups while listening to banjo music, and are truly, truly loyal.
You made me feel worth it, even when I didn't think I was.
You see the value in an evening of Thai food and shoe shopping and you feel your music with soul.
You ran with me...the first 5 blocks anyway :)
You are patient with me even when I forget how to tie the knot you've taught me at least 5 times.
You were my first friend in a new place, even though I was sure I wasn't cool enough for you.
You love foreign film, fine food, and a good round of tennis, even though you beat me every time.
You get so overcome by the things you love that you can't express yourself.
We met on the mission...because we both know we never would have made it out if we had met before.
You healed me when I was broken.
You will always be my best friend and no matter how long we go without talking, it always feels like no time has passed when we do.
You never let me forget that I have great assets.
You are the most refreshing combination of enthusiasm, realism and hope a girl could ever have the pleasure of meeting.
You tell me how you feel.
You are classy and never pass up a chance to convert your hair stylist :)
You are a class act running buddy.
You made the time, the tears, and all the failed attempts worth it.
You are not afraid of awkward.
You call 'em like you see 'em.
Your voice makes me swoon and you cook like a champ.
You like to talk politics.
You are always up for a midnight swim and you do what you love.
You still keep in touch.
You are my friend.
You are my family.
I could never do it without you.

This list is long, but it does not begin to describe my feelings and the things I love and admire about so many of you. I am truly so blessed by each and every person in my life. My heart is so fully gratitude for the love that I feel from the people in my life and I hope that in some small way this serves as an expression of the gratitude that I feel to those who touch my life in so many ways both small and significant. To those of you who find yourselves in the things above, please know that there is so much more that I want to say thank you for, but sometimes cannot find the words. I am truly blessed, and it is because of you. Thank you.

Bragging Rights...

2008-11-17T18:44:00.000-08:00

Pre-reading caveat...

I AM NOT AN ATHLETE...

See, here's the thing, though, I have always wanted to be...and in particular, I have always wanted to be a runner. I don't know what it is about the sport of running that I find so compelling. Maybe it's that you can run anywhere, anytime...it is the quintessential individualist sport (as one who doesn't play nice with others...and by that I mean I'm not any good at anything...I don't like being subjected other people's ridicule and competitive nature...might I also add I blame a lot of jr. high scarring on this particular fact...), maybe it's that my grandfather ran the Boston Marathon, oh, you know, a couple of times, no big deal...maybe it's the fact that I look really great in spandex (okay, fine, maybe not so much that one) maybe it's the fact that runners (distance runners in particular) have copious amounts of self-control and discipline...of which I have none...could be any number of things.

But, the honest truth is I am just not genetically disposed to athletics...running in particular. I'm 5'4" I have a stride of approximately 6 inches and I have to buy running shoes with soles made of tempered steel to correct the pronation in my gate because my arches are so high you could drive a train through them...See, if Botticelli was convening a team of some sort I would have been his first round draft pick, but I'm pretty sure Bill Bowerman wouldn't have let me carry his team's towels for fear I might infect his runners with curvaceous slowness, or at least bad knees or something...by all accounts me and running are just not meant to be...

For the visual learners in the group...

This
Not This Everybody still with me? A seriously sad plight indeed. I never thought I would be able to run any sort of distance...and of course sprinting was just out. Some people have fast twitch muscles, some people have slow twitch muscles...I'm just lucky if I can get mine to twitch. Now, don't get me wrong, I take good care of myself (with the one unfortunate exception of a particularly depressing year of college fueled by a lot of Law & Order and toast)...I go to the gym, I lift weights, I do aerobics, kickboxing, yoga, and did dance and cheerleading in high school...I'm not a total lot cause, I just always believed running was not my calling because let's face it, I'm shaped like classic glassware, and I just always figured my joints couldn't handle it, because...well...I guess 'cause my mom told me they couldn't, and why question momma?

Anyway...the bottom line is, this weekend I did something to prove myself wrong. This weekend, on Saturday, the 15th of November, I RAN A HALF MARATHON. That's right folks...13.1 miles...and I ran the whole way.

Remember...

This
Not ThisNow, I know for some of you this is not a big deal...10 miles is like a leisure run for you. Again, a little more context...after we ran the mile for gym class I had to excuse myself, and went and laid down on the cold cement floor in the locker room (I know, you're asking me "isn't the floor in the locker room disgusting? to which I will answer you..."ummm, yeah") because I nearly blacked out. Again...running, not my calling.

Still With Me...?

This Not This

Since moving out to DC I've just decided that it's time I do a few things I always told myself I could never do. One of those things included running a road race of some significant length. Now, to this point the closest I've come was my office 5K...not that 3.1 miles is something to scoff at...but it just wasn't enough. Why I felt the compulsion to jump to a half-marathon rather than a 10K or even a 10 miler I have no idea...but I did...and the craziest part is...

I liked it.
(okay, fine...I liked most of it..miles 9-12 I could have done without...but you get the idea)

No kidding. I had a blast. The race was so fun, and I actually found myself smiling as I chugged along mile marker after mile marker. Maybe I was smiling because I knew I was about to accomplish something I thought was impossible...maybe it was because the inhabitants of Richmond had come out in full force and were camped out on their lawns waving flags and blowing noisemakers cheering on perfect strangers towards the finish line...maybe it was the satisfaction of passing that really fit looking African guy (don't worry, I'm pretty sure he was injured as there is no way I would have passed him otherwise..and yes, I know I'm profiling here...forgive me)...regardless of what it was...I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Particularly the finishing part...

The Richmond Half Marathon winds its way through downtown Richmond, VA as well as through some of the surrounding neighborhoods. The bulk of the course is quite flat with some barely intelligible changes in incline as you go along. My personal opinion on hills is that while they are a beast to get up, the pay off of getting to run with gravity on the other side is totally worth it...and by about mile 11 I was really ready to see some downhill. As I came around the final bend in the course and I could actually see the finish line and realized I was standing atop a fairly decent sized hill (possibly the only one in Richmond) but wasn't quite sure how I got there because you don't remember running up anything that significant...at that point, however, I didn't much care because I'd just run 12.6 miles and could see the goal at the bottom of that hill. It felt like I was flying.

I was only conscious enough of my feet to try and keep myself from completely eating it on the downhill (does it still count as a "strong finish" if you roll across the finish line?) but I ran as fast as I could (yes, I think I even managed what would qualify as a sprint). When I crossed the finish line I was completely out of breath, but so overjoyed to have finished strong that I was nearly in tears. As I gasped for breath one of the men handing out medals asked "Are you okay?" and all I could get out between gasps was "No, I'm great!"

Cheezy? Totally. But it's true. I don't know what felt better...knowing that I didn't have to run anymore or knowing that I had just proved myself wrong. In the end all the training, all the blisters, and all the sweat, tears, and pain that went into preparation were worth it. I didn't set any records, that's for sure (as in, the guy who won the marathon ran it 22 minutes faster than I ran the half) but I did something I had always told myself I could never do. I ran 13.1 miles. On top of that, I enjoyed running 13.1 miles. I'm really not too worried about what all the pounding is doing to my knees...my brain on the other hand is a completely different story...

Many kudos to all those who pushed me through, encouraged me, and expressed their admiration at my apparent insanity. I couldn't have done it without you. Big time props to Josh M for signing up for the dang thing with me and training despite some serious aches, pains, and scheduling issues...you were a champ and our weekend in Richmond will forever live in infamy...So, the bottom line is, never write yourself off. You may find you actually enjoy doing something you never thought you were capable of, and that it teaches you a lot about yourself while you're doing it. You may even cultivate a little self control and discipline along the way (not saying I did...I definitely had a milkshake to celebrate...I'm just saying some people might...)

So, as it turns out I'm kind of hooked and am looking forward to the next one. Should be ready to go as soon as all the scabs heal over...

Oh, and by the way...

ThisNot ThisThere's crazy, and then there's suicidal...I'll stick with just plain crazy, thanks very much.

Fire In The Hole...

2008-11-04T18:43:00.000-08:00

This one you have to see to believe...

So, I love living in DC because there is the craziest variety of stuff to do around here. One night you can go watch b-boys battle in a breakdancing competition held in a church in a neighborhood in northeast and the next night you can go to La Boheme at the Kennedy Center and enjoy the rest of the evening strolling along the Potomac waterfront. There is no end to the things you can do in this area.

Not only is DC full of totally varied activities, but you have the entire East Coast within just a few hours...from the Hamptons to the Hills of West Virginny...you can do and see it all and don't have to go that far out of your way.

This past weekend, however, may have topped my list of craziest and most fun things I have done while living out here. Last Saturday's activity definitely takes the cake...or pie, rather...punkin' pie.

Last Saturday, several of my friends and I got up at the crack of dawn...okay, pre-dawn, let's be honest, there is no semblance of sunlight at 5:30 in the morning...which seems particularly cruel on a Saturday...anyway...tanget...sorry...

We got up early and headed to Bridgeville, Delaware. What's that? You've never heard of it? Well there's a reason...There's NOTHING there...Except of course for the annual World Championship Punkin Chunkin! The Punkin Chunkin (heretofor referred to as "the Chunkin" or "PC") takes place annually in Bridgeville, and is, by all accounts, the biggest deal of the year. The point of said Chunkin is basically to build a contraption for the sole purpose of flinging, rocketing, or basically propelling a pumpkin as far as you possibly can. The competition is broken into three categories...Catapaults, Trebuchets, and Pneumatic Guns. Let me tell you, if you've never seen a pumpkin come rocketing out of a steel pipe at 200 mph and subsequently fly over 3,000 feet, you are missing out.
Now, don't get me wrong, I grew up in a small town...The rodeo every year was a big deal and there was an inordinate amount of drunken beligerence and debauchery that went along with that whole scene (my parents, being the responsible folks they were felt it wasn't the place for a little girl, and thus I was never allowed to compete in any of the rodeo events like my other little tyke farmhand friends...I still feel this is why I never claimed my title in mutton busting...but I'm not bitter). Anyway, the point is, I've been around rough crowds and seen my fair share of tailgating and associated activites, but this brought things to a whole new level...

On entrance to the Chunkin, we were greeted by what appeared to be the entire student body of Bridgeville Jr. High School, along with a few booster club moms sprinkled in for good measure and supervision (?) directing traffic. By all appearances they had been there since about 6 am.

Not only had the traffic directors been there since about 6am, it seems that so had the tailgaters. There were people in RV's, pickup trucks, vans, you name it, they brought it. It looked like some of these people had been camped out for days just waiting for the PC events to begin. Not only had these folks been camped out since whenever, but that's about the time they started drinking (beer of choice, Natural Ice or "Natty Ice" to anyone who's ever been to college party where the point was not to enjoy the finer bouquets of an alcoholic beverage, but to get wasted as quickly and as cheaply as possible...so I've been told anyway).

In addition to the beer of choice, there were definitely some popular clothing options...camouflage, overalls, hunters orange, cut off denim, and hard hats.

So, the first few seem obvious...tailgating, public intoxication, mass gatherings in fallow soy bean fields in Delaware...but "why the hard hats?" you ask. Well, I'll tell you why...Because on the off occasion these pumpkin-flinging contraptions will have a misfire. What this usually results in is the gourd in question being flung backwards into or over the crowd of onlookers..."isn't that dangerous?" you ask...to which I say, "ummm, yeah, it is. " I was pretty much afraid for my life during the entire Trebuchet competition after watching one of the machines completely self destruct in a flurry of snapping cables and cracking timbers (no one was hurt, thank goodness) and then seeing yet another of these modified war machines fling its payload backwards over the crowd of onlookers and into the fairgrounds area where normal carnival type activities were taking place...good thing there were no innocent and unsuspecting children in that area...oh wait...

Luckily we all made it out unscathed, and managed to escape falling victim to even one stray seed.

Some highlights from the day included BBQ for lunch (they just do it better in places where people have fewer teeth, I really don't understand it, but I'm working on a theory), watchingwhat appeard to be the entire population of Bridgeville High School act as the pumpkin chasers (basically a fleet of them out on 4-wheelers sitting in the field waiting for the pumpkins to drop out of the sky so they can measure the distance of the chunk...again you may ask "isn't that dangerous?" and again I will answer you..."ummm, yeah."), playing "spot the minority" (not a lot of them out in Bridgeville, and yes I was among Asian friends so it was okay...geez, so sensitive), and, of course, seeing what was basically a huge airsoft gun shoot a pumpkin 4,482 feet...yeah, that's right almost A MILE...a pumpkin...like I said...you haven't lived until you've seen that.

By the end of the day we were completely exhausted and had watched about all the Chunkin we could handle...despite the enticing invitation to stay and watch that night's fireworks display (billed as second to none in the world...imagine that...move over Paris...back off New York, Tokyo, DC...Bridgeville is about to show you what's up) we decided it would probably be a good idea to get on the road before all the drunken tailgaters, so we headed back to what appeared a much tamer DC.

All in all, it was a very fun and unique day, and I think I have definitely gained a greater appreciation for all the types of personalities that make this world a much more interesting place.

A Rather Good Day...

2008-10-11T11:35:00.000-07:00

Shorty...I promise.

The thing is, today I had a pretty great day filled with some things and people that make me smile. I also, wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, managed to tote my camera around with me all day long...and was able to document said smile-worthy activities and individuals...so, here goes...

Started out the day by NOT getting out of bed earlier than absolutely necessary...delightful...

Got out of bed just in time to get dressed and have lunch with these two lovely ladies. Marne' and Laura took me out for an early birthday lunch (yes, I know I only have two days left... but seeing as how this birthday will mark being more 30 than 20, I'm holding on to every last second of my 25th year...thanks very much).

Anyway, we talked about everything and nothing...made plans to visit each other in states and cities all over the country, and laughed about funny memories that we've re-hashed at least a hundred times, but still manage to find infinite humor in. After paying our check, another 30 or 40 minutes of chatting and laughing, and probably a third or fourth pass by the waitress giving us the evil eye, we finally left the restaurant...it's easy to see why these girls are two of my favorites.

Next it was off to BYU's Homecoming football game with Claire and Joel. It was FREEZING, but we had a great time and it was so fun to be back in the stadium wearing cougar blue and cheering my heart out. All in all it was a good game, we won, it didn't snow...and did I mention we got free beanies? CANNOT beat that. Nope... You can't.

Have I mentioned I love this one, too?
After the game we went back to Claire and Joel's with Joel's family for brownies and ice cream as Claire's belated birthday celebration. Sadly, I did not have my camera at this point. Not documented. My bad. Suffice it to say it was lots of fun and way to go Mother Wagstaff on the brownies. Yum.

So, to end the night I went back to the hotel, changed and cleaned up and headed to a birthday party of a friend. Looking for trouble obviously...(okay, not really, just got bored waiting for my friend to pick me up...and since I had been taking pictures all day anyway...please, like I would actually look for trouble...honestly).

So, the party was a total anomaly, and there were like 25 guys there and about 9 girls...weird (not quite as noteworthy as the MTV snowglobe balloon party...but still). So, I chatted, flirted, giggled, asked enticing questions, etc, etc, etc...the sad truth...it's just still a little awkward, and I'm not really good at it...curses. Oh well...it's never too late to get a puppy, right?

All in all, it was still a rather good day.

Okay, Okay, I Give...

2008-10-01T23:01:00.000-07:00

I know I haven't been very good about posting the past few...*gulp*...months. I apologize. The truth is, I've just been feeling a little uninspired lately...and I suddenly have developed a severe case of fickle memory and keep forgetting my camera, so, not only do I not have any witty, sentimental, strange, or even mildly interesting anecdotes to relate...I also have no photos. Sorry. I fail.

So, at the behest of a several of you, I've decided to expound on a rather terrifying topic...taking on Provo...no, not just Provo...Brigham Young University--the under 25 dating capital of THE WORLD--at the ripe old age of twenty fix (ie when you're more twenty six than you are twenty five...but not quite willing to give up that coveted slot in the early to mid-twenties bracket when registering for things like marathons, magazines, beauty coupons, etc...you know...twenty-fix).

It's a strange thing, coming back to your alma mater, it's such a flood of memories...the spots where you studied, slept, hid-out, ate lunch, had the odd breakdown, kissed that one guy, or was it the other one? (KIDDING, I'm totally kidding, geez, give me a little credit) Buildings where you lived and studied are now just fields of grass or have been paved over to make way for newer, shinier facilities and, strangely (read annoyingly), even though you've only been gone 2 years, all the other students seem to have gotten significantly younger (since when are they letting 18 year-olds into college? rude!). All in all, it's kind of a surreal experience.

So, as I pondered on coming back and reverting back to student life (sort of...I don't know if living in a hotel and having your life paid for really counts...) I tried to figure out how exactly I was going to approach the whole situation. Was I going to try to integrate myself fully back into the collegiate culture, or was I going to stay on the fringes and be like those white-haired professors' wives that end up in lower level language classes and humanities courses as they deal with empty nest syndrome and try to further their own personal enrichment...coming to class and paying just dues, but not really being considered a part of the student body...

Tough choice...but as visions of ladies in elastic waistband jeans with rolling backpacks flashed through my head I realized I was just going to have to bite the bullet and try my best to fit in...again.

I'm not going to lie...first week was tough. Despite my best efforts, I just felt like I stuck out. It also didn't help that I wasn't listed on any of the class roles so with every new class and professor I had to give an explanation of who I was, why I was there, why I wouldn't actually be getting grades, etc, etc, etc...subtle 'Manda...way to blend in...anybody have a rolling backpack I can borrow?!?

Anyway, don't worry, I'm not going to torment you with a week-by-week log of my awkwardness in trying to re-integrate myself into the student population. Suffice it to say that things got better, and I even got invited to a few crazy parties (one involved a very small apartment filled with lots of people and even more balloons...as in, if a guy of average height was standing still in the room the balloons would have been up to his chest...meaning for those of us on the shorter end of the spectrum, they hit just above the neck...add in about 50 dancing college students and lots of hip hop music...it was kind of like being stuck in the MTV Snow Globe from Hell...in sort of a fun, crazy, "oh, my friends are not gonna believe this" kind of way). Like I said, things got better...it's a sliding scale...

While there have definitely been some awkward moments, there are also some things that are pretty sweet about coming back under my current circumstances. Among them are:

Not being poor (I find this to be pretty much a plus as compared to my 24 previous years of existence).
People in my classes think I am a genius...*Note* THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE...it helps to be able to rattle off random facts about Korean politics on command...especially in a room full of recently returned missionaries who are obsessed with the country, but know next to nothing about the way it actually functions...totally money...
Getting to spend tons of time with friends and fam...what more could I want?
Eye candy. Okay, I know, most of them are young enough that I could have been babysitting them at some point, but can you blame me?
Renewed appreciation for my own individual sense of style. I have to say I love coming to church and being one of about seven women in the entire congregation with her natural hair color and definitely the only one sporting togs picked up at a flea market (and not looking bad while doing it, thanks). I think the root of this is really just realizing how much I've grown into myself since moving to DC and how comfortable it's made me with my own individuality. Bless it.
Running at altitude. Not gonna lie, the first week was miserable..I thought my lungs were going to explode every time I hit the pavement...However, after two months of training at 4500 feet, running the Richmond Half Marathon at 150 feet is going to be pretty much great.
Thai Ruby...'nuf said
Having someone else make my bed EVERY DAY
The unprecedented opportunity to spend at least 8 hours a day studying nothing but Korean and working with some remarkable people who have been unnecessarily dedicated to my success. I consider myself very fortunate to be able to work with these great tutors, teachers, and friends on a daily basis.
Ummm, in-house hot tub...Yee-aaah!
Meeting the occasional guy who happened to hear that I had an actual job and was over the age of 23 and is actually interested. Did I mention said occasional guy happens to be an attorney? Again, Bless it.
Riding a bike. I never biked when I was in school. I always walked...but there is something about racing down University Parkway in the cool fall air that does wonders for the soul...there are days when I get to my hotel and I feel like I just want to keep riding around for hours listening to the wind rush past my ears...
Football. #8. Again, 'nuf said.

In all seriousness, this list could go on, and on, and on. There have been a lot of great things about being back, some of them silly and some of them a little more on the serious side. Really, one of the greatest benefits of this trip has been the confirmation that moving to DC, taking my job, and doing what I've been doing for the last year and a half were truly the right choice for me, and I wouldn't have my life be any other way. This experience has been so rewarding, not just from a linguistical improvement point of view, but has made me value so much my every day life in DC. So, while I probably won't come home with (m)any cougar-ing successes (sorry guys...I just couldn't fully get behind it) I will definitely come back with a renewed sense of appreciation for what can often feel like the daily grind.

And hey...I've still got three whole weeks left, so who knows what else could happen...

Waiting So Long To Say Goodbye So Soon...

2008-09-16T17:03:00.000-07:00

Okay, relax...this post is not as dramatic as the title would suggest...mostly it's about me and my obsession with summer...

So, as some of you might know I am back in Utah (taking Provo by storm...Again) doing a work-study program to improve my Korean courtesy of my office. Truth be told, it's a pretty sweet gig...more on life in the Big P after 25 to come in a later post...

Being in Provo has not been so bad, and I am lucky to have the chance to spend some quality time with excellent family and some close friends. Last Saturday I went with my cousin Emily, her husband Mike and Mike's brother's family to Deer Creek reservoir in Provo Canyon for a day of wakeboarding and enjoying what could be the last throws of summer.

It always seems so unfair that something I wait so long for every year (umm, yes we're talking about summer) seems to go so quickly. It feels like I waited an eternity for Memorial Day weekend to mark the beginning of this most blessed of seasons (I don't think I've formally dealt with my sun worshipping on the blog yet...but I know there are those of you who are intimately acquainted with my affinity for the beach and other activities involving me getting tan...for the rest of you...I'm sure it will come), and then have it snatched away before it has even begun. Saturday's activities were a great way to feel closure on my favorite season and offer up what may be my final homage to the Sun Gods of summer 2008.

We had an amazing time and, blessed day, I was still able to get up on the wakeboard, actually stay up, and even do something that somewhat resembled carving... I am proud to say that we all made it through the day without breaking, spraining, or otherwise maming ourselves...however, based on the accounts I collected from fellow boaters, we were all definitely feeling our age (figuratively speaking, of course) the next day. All in all it was great times with great company and it was a wonderful reminder of how blessed we are to live in such a beautiful place and enjoy the blessings of family, friends, and free time.

Here are a few photos from the day's activities:

Mike braved the cold morning water to show us how it was done...good thing we all had to follow his lead...

Yes, that's me...actually upright and not being dragged behind the boat...shocking, I know

Emily took a turn too...she got up on the first try and hung on like a champ
The kids wanted to go on the tube...one broken air pump and three winded and dizzy adults later they were having a blast...Emily had a pretty good time too...
I can't remember if this was before or after Mike drove the boat through its own wake, causing a monstrous wave to flood the boat...and I do mean flood...the bilge pumps had to kick in to get it all out and we pretty much said goodbye to dry towels for the rest of the day :)
We had so much fun with Mike's brother's kids...they were a blast...
We managed to wear them out by about 11:00 am
The following are a few photos just in case any of those cool wakeboarding/skating companies are looking for fresh new faces to represent their product...one should never rule out the possibility of a hot modeling career popping up at any minute...

Product Placement...Anyone?Just Two California Boys Doing Their Thing
She's Always Been the Hot One...
Viva el Verano! Until Next Year!

By Popular Demand...

2008-08-30T20:12:00.000-07:00

Thus far I've told a few of my tales from the farm. (What can I say, growing up on a big ranch in the middle of nowhere makes for some semi-amusing anecdotes) So, after several requests from friends and fam I have decided to relay this little gem from my childhood.

(also please note I have only made 2 posts this month which is pretty much pathetic, so I am trying to round out the number before the end of the month...as in, tomorrow...)

As I have mentioned before, when I was little I followed my dad around endlessly. If I could con him into letting me go with him anywhere, I was all over it. This started at roughly the age of three. Bless him for being such a good sport about the whole thing. Let's be honest, a three year old girl has no business doing most of the things we did; fixing fence (involves implements of both the heavy, blunt and sharp varieties), herding cattle, branding cattle, vaccinating cattle (all tending to involve large bovine-type creatures wishing they were pretty much anywhere that we were not poking, prodding, or, ummm, searing them) irrigating (lots of water, shovels, ditches...), harvesting (tractors towing large scythe-type instruments), fertilizing/spraying for bugs, weeds, etc (toxic chemicals... might explain a few things)...anyway...you get the idea.

Don't get me wrong, my dad was very protective, and to this day I know that he would never do anything that would put me in danger...aside from turning me out in the dating pool of course...but that's a different matter altogether...My dad just didn't mind making me his sidekick, and I was more than happy to follow him around and tried my best to be as big a help as possible...let's face it I was just generally in the way...but somehow he didn't seem to mind and I thought it was the greatest.

Now, aside from the obvious physical dangers that come from working on a farm, there are some hazards that present themselves, particularly for little girls who are supposed to be learning how to be ladies, despite the fact that they would rather be playing in a pen full of yearlings and their...umm...leftovers. Ranch life can be kind of rough...rough work, rough company, and rough language.

This, of course, was to be expected, and was even generally tolerated, mostly because one of the top offenders of polite sociabilities was my dear grandfather. You have to know that my grandpa is one of the most wonderful men I know. He is honest, hard-working, loves God and has dedicated his life to his family, his religion, and serving those who are dear to him. I love and respect him very much. However, when I was much younger, my grandfather had something of a ranch-hand vocabulary. Don't get me wrong, dealing with the struggles of ranch life (cows in general, machinery that refuses to stay fixed, and the ever present threat of bad weather) are more than enough to merit a few quality four-letter words every now and then...but it became a problem because I was not only my dad's shadow (meaning I was out with grandpa a lot), but something of a parrot.

You can see where this is going...

One fateful day, I was out with my dad and grandpa fixing fence. I was about three, so this meant they were fixing the fence and I was most likely preparing to hammer nails into something they would no doubt need in the near future. As we worked I suddenly piped up and in my best three year old ranch hand voice said "Dad, hand me the damn hammer..."

Quite honestly, I don't remember what happened after that. I don't particularly remember being reprimanded at the time...probably because it was clear that I had no idea that 'damn' and 'hammer' were actually two seperate words. All I knew was that every time grandpa needed to pound a nail he needed a damnhammer...since I was planning on pounding nails, that was clearly what I needed too. Three year old logic...Go figure.

Anyway...the point is, following said incident someone had a little sit-down-heart-to-heart-hellfire-and-brimstone chat with my dear grandpa. I don't really remember if it was mom, dad, or grandma...might have been all three, but I do know that after that, grandpa made a concerted effort to make sure that all farm implements, livestock, and surrounding landowners were referred to by the names more generally recognized by establisments like Britannica, and the Social Security office.

The moral of the story is, I turned out all right (yeah, debateable, I know, we'll talk about it later) but I couldn't have done it without my family and the experiences I had as a very small child. Many thanks to grandpa for always being there to teach me the way things really were and to mom, dad, and grandma for making sure I didn't grow up to be a foul-mouthed rodeo queen. I am truly the sum of all my parts.

The Rings That Bind...

2008-08-18T19:37:00.000-07:00

*Warning...this is kind of sappy
** Other warning...it is also long

I could blame it on my penchant for jewelry (something about all those rings and an abundance of precious metals) but I don’t think that’s it. I think it's that the Olympics brings out a better side of me, and the world in general. They dig down to discover that beneath my realist exterior is a shining hope in the idea that people are fundamentally good and that people with differing values, cultures, and ideals can exist in harmony. I should note that my realism is not a façade, that’s different…a façade is fake, and I am not a fake realist…I am an actual realist with a fundamental belief that people can be better than they are and that there is a greater good to be aspired to…think of it as if the heart of an optimist and the mind of a realist were roommates…and just happened to be renting, well, me…anyway, you get the idea.

I was genuinely concerned about this year’s Olympic Games. I love the Olympics because it seems to be a time when the world comes together to celebrate raw human achievement. Nations quit nagging each other about what belongs to who and who can and can’t have what and we cheer on not only those athletes from our own countries, but the underdogs, the miracle workers, and all those who have fought through adversity to achieve something most of us only see in day dreams; Olympic gold.

This year, however, during the weeks and months when the world should have been ramping up for this special season, riots were raging, editorials were arguing, and politicians and diplomats alike were clashing over how to handle this year’s games. Don’t get me wrong, I am not a Chinese apologist. Their human rights record, among other things, is disconcerting, and I do no feel like the Beijing Olympics should be viewed as any sort of reward (on a technicality, having the Olympics in your city is not all it’s cracked up to be…national economies of hosting nations tend to take a medium to long-term dip following the end of the games…go ahead, look it up) but as an opportunity for the Chinese to get its collctive act together.

The fact of the matter is, however, a lot of people in the world felt naming Beijing as the 2008 Olympic venue was a sign that the world had decided to award China for a lack of progress in several areas where progress desperately needs to be made. As cliche as it sounds, my heart hurt watching the torch--the symbol of the games--circle the globe followed by conflict and struggle.

I have to say, however, that in the wake of the preceeding conflict this year's games have been pleasantly surprising.* Despite some initial verbal sparring between world leaders during the opening days of the games (ie Hu Jin-tao telling Bush that China’s human rights record was no one else’s business) and the unfortunate timing of Russia’s invasion of Georgia (don’t get me started) the world has seemed to, once again, put aside its differences to focus on the competition.

I wasn’t thinking about the war in Iraq as I watched the story of a 35 year old German gymnast who began competing again (against 16 year olds, may I remind you) so she could afford health care for her son who is battling leukemia. I was not thinking about our abysmal economic outlook as I watched Michael Phelps and the rest of the US Men’s 4x100 meter relay team defy all predictions and sensibilities in one of the most amazing races ever (note: I was thinking about my abysmal economic situation after jumping on, and subsequently damaging my bed, while watching said race, and realizing I would rather not have to replace it…stupid Ikea). And, I most definitely wasn’t thinking about Iran’s nuclear potential as I wept (yes, folks, you read it here first, Stonewall Stanfill crying like a child) through the women’s gymnastics individual all-around medal ceremony.**

During all of these things I was not only thinking about how proud I was to be an American, but how proud I was to be part of a greater human family (cue sappy peace & diversity iconography. Check). I personally do not ascribe to the idea that we all have the same basic needs, desires, and values simply because we are all members of the same species. I do believe that such philosophy leads to misguided wars and general cultural insensitivity. Our cultures, beliefs, and societies make us fundamentally different from our brothers and sisters from other parts of the globe. HOWEVER, I also believe that for two weeks every two years, we put aside our differences and come together in a spirit of competition that, strangely enough, unites us beyond our socializations and binds us to each other.***

I don’t have the answers to the world’s great questions. I am, in no way, under the delusion that the Olympics will solve the problems on the international center stage. What I do know, however, is that there is something in these games that is special and that helps us focus on something other than our differences. I have a great fear that the lead up to this year’s games were a shadow of things to come…more contention, more demonstration, and more focus on why we are fighting than on why we need to settle our differences. Like I said, I don’t have the answers, but I hope that in the future the Olympic Games will be a venue where the world can come together and focus, even if it’s only for two weeks, on the things that make us great, and not the things that tear us apart.

*I would like to point out that, while this year's games have been thus far a great success, I am shocked and saddened by the stabbing of two American spectators early in the first week of the games. This, however, I think was a random act of violence, and not necessarily politically motivated.

**I would like to make a note that this was at approximately 2:00am and my patriotic breakdown may or may not have had something to do with sleep deprivation.

***Please also note the Olympics are not a substitute for the gospel or the knowledge and faith that we are all children of a loving Heavenly Father. This post should not be read as such. Just clarifying.

Three Years Ago Today...

2008-08-05T19:51:00.000-07:00

I was standing on US soil for the first time in a year and a half...and wondering what parallel universe I had just dropped out of. A word to the wise...if you spend over a year outside the US (particularly in a socially conservative and sparkling society such as those found in Asia) don't make your first stop in the United States LAX...just trust me.

Yep, that's right folks...three years ago today I had just returned from my mission in Busan, South Korea. THREE YEARS!!! Wow. It has gone by so fast. I think this means I'm getting old...oh well...it was bound to happen, right?

So, to celebrate (?) said anniversary, I thought I'd recap a few of the things that have happened since I got home...it's been a wild ride, and shows no signs of slowing down.

Once the missionary shenannigans ended...

I...

Ended up back at BYU with two girls I LOVE

Spent four day busting my booty for a congressional candidate in the great state of Iowa

Caught Potomac Fever as a summer intern in DC

GRADUATED!!!

Got a Real Job

Moved BACK to DC...

Made some new friends

Played with Jane...Lots...

Went BACK to Korea
Started this BLOG

(See 8 months worth of blissful prose below...)

And Generally Caused Trouble...

Stay tuned for more adventures...It's been a great three years and there's more where that came from!

It's A Paradigm Thing...

2008-07-31T17:52:00.000-07:00

A few months ago I got the chance to meet my friend Josh's niece, Elise. Aside from being a ridiculously beautiful child, she is also deliciously precocious and a handful...in a way that intrigues you so much that you can't possibly be frustrated with her, while at the same time fearing for her parents sanity when she hits teenager-dom. I adore her.

Since meeting Elise, her darling little sister Chloe, and their fantastic parents and spending a great day with them in Baltimore (my first time in the Charm City) I have started reading their blog occasionally on my routine web perusals and I am endlessly entertained by the shenanigans of these kids. The other day, however, I saw something that made me think a little bit about differing paradigms and how my upbringing differed significantly from this little girl that I identitify with in a lot of ways...

What intrigued me were some video clips of the family's recent trip to Costa Rica. In the first clip Elise is holding a small lizard, which she proceeds to give very tender and repeated kisses (in spite of being nipped on the lip by the mini-dino...maybe he's already got a lady-lizard friend). What can I say, the girl loves reptiles...her dad's got to be so proud. In the second clip, Elise is holding a small garden snake while her dad looks on. Mom, manning the camera asks what she is doing and Elise responds repeatedly "I hold the snake...I hold the snake..." (You really should see this for yourself...you can see the video here...many thanks to Juli and Ben for letting me post the link).

On seeing this I was so shocked at the fearlessness of this little girl, particularly given my own experience at her age with snakes...time for another flash from the farm...

See here's the thing...I grew up in south central Montana on a cattle ranch closer to the middle of nowhere than anything else. For those of you who haven't had the opportunity to visit the illustrious locale of Toston, Montana, you should know that the sagebrush hills enclosing the Missouri River valley where I lived are FULL of Diamondback Rattlesnakes. As a 3 year old, I knew no difference between a harmless garden snake and a 6 foot rattler capable of dispatching small mammals of various sizes and ferocities...that may or may not be a real word...just go with it.

Whereas Elise was happy to "hold the snake" all I knew at her age was "kill the snake." I got it from all sides...my only real understanding about snakes was that my dad smashed their heads with shovels, my grandma accelerated and braked over them until they were nothing but slimy skid marks on the road, my mom lobbed stones as big as her head onto their bodies until they stopped slithering, and my grandfather blasted them to scaly bits with his shotgun...and all the while they told me "snakes are dangerous, you will die if they bite you, WE KILL SNAKES." * You can see where my biases against said serpents come from...and why I always seemed to relate to Indiana Jones...

So it occurred to me that at that age if you had asked me to hold a snake, I probably would have screamed bloody murder and reached for the nearest blunt instrument (probably a damn hammer...but that's another story in and of itself). This is not to say that I was a scared little kid...after all, I was taking on hundreds of pounds of charging 'Grade A' American Angus at the age of six...much to my father's chagrin...please ref the Cat Story...It's just a matter of growing up with a different mindset.

I think one reason I like Elise is because we are a lot alike; independent, a little serious, each fearless in our own way, and, no doubt, making our parents very worried for what lies ahead (still probably more true for me than not...). I also realized how much a person's environment influences their worldview...Where I will always shiver a little at the thought of actually letting my skin come in contact with snake scales that are actually still on a living breathing snake, Elise will be Dr. Doolittle-ing it up with all sorts of slithery critters.

As for me and my Stanfills, however, we will probably continue teaching our posterity the virtues of the business end of a shovel in human-snake encounters**...sorry PETA, it's nothing personal...just a matter of paradigm.

*My family is not violent by nature, quite the opposite actually...it's possible that snakes just don't really bring out the Stanfill's best side

**To illustrate how the anti-snake biase has pervaded Stanfill Family culture, I will refer you to my cousin Emily and her husband Michael's blog where you can request a copy of Emily's entrance essay to BYU...specifically about her first experience with grandma's preferred snake killing tool...grandpa's gold Buick...it's classic, and may have been the original inspiration for writing about the snake paradigm.

My Desperate Attempt at Art...

2008-07-15T18:43:00.001-07:00

Here are a few pics I took while we were in NYC for the 4th. Mostly some of my desperate attempts at producing something that resembles art. Again, lacking a good photo editing program, so the colors leave a bit to be desired (the watermark template doesn't help, so use your imagination). Enjoy.

These were in a community garden maintained by volunteers in Riverside Park

The Sailors Memorial Above Riverside Park

How did they get that tree to do that?

The World, in Tree

Steps below Riverside Park

A Few Things I Never Thought I'd Do...

2008-07-12T18:10:00.000-07:00

I spent last weekend in the Big Apple with some friends to celebrate the 4th of July, and get out of DC...by escaping to an even denser urban jungle (?). I know, when we stopped to consider it, it didn't make a lot of sense to us either...but then again...a lot of things happened this weekend that didn't exactly add up...

On the 4th of July we headed out to Coney Island. This was quite the experience. Coney Island hit its peak in the 1920s and, from what I can gather given our experience there, has gone dramatically down hill since then. The main body of the island is taken up by a run-down amusement park bordered by a boardwalk and the shore. It has been my experience that places with boardwalks tend to be inherently seedy (what it is about providing a planked walking surface next to eating establishments and sand that brings out the weirdos I have no idea...I'm still in the early stages of formulating a theory involving lead paint, pirate fetishes, and clowns...), and Coney Island's boardwalk is hands down the worst I have ever seen.

Perhaps I should back up...the reason we went to Coney Island in the first place was not, in fact, to solidify a theory on why creepy people have taken to inhabiting former gems of prohibitionist-era Americana, but to watch the annual Nathan's World Championship hot dog eating contest. Yep, that is the one activity that worked itself firmly into our agendas for the weekend. Not only did we choose to spend the birthday of our country watching strictly average individuals gorge themselves on highly processed psuedo meat products, but we went specifically to cheer on a JAPANESE guy. I'm not gonna lie...it was a blast. In truth, I do not have the words to adequately describe the full experience...luckily for you my friend Josh does. So I will refer you to Josh's Blog (no really...you need to read this) to get all the baloney-laden details. Suffice it to say, I have been astounding my co-workers with my newfound knowledge of the rules and regulations of competitive eating...and I am pretty sure I never want to see another hot dog again...not until next independence day, anyway.

Maybe it was the guy with the rattail haircut that he clearly hadn't touched since 1992, maybe it was the "Shoot the Freak" booth where for a small fee you can take out your aggression on a live target (read skinny, underpaid high school kids from the Bronx) with a paintball gun, maybe it was Madame Cha Cha's Cafe (not even gonna go there...), maybe it was the alcohol flowing freely at 10 in the morning, or maybe it was the tiny fluorescent Wal-mart bikinis on the leathery, tatooed biker mamas...either way as we wandered up and down the boardwalk trying to find something redeeming about this tragically decrepit slice of beach front, I suddenly felt like I was standing in the center of a particularly creepy Slipknot music video (don't google these guys...the picture should speak for itself).
I have to say, on some levels, it was a little sad...What was once a place of lighthearted fun and entertainment has turned into what can only be described as...well...let's just say if Dante had known about Coney Island Francesca and Paolo would have been out on their ears and hell would have had a new playground. Needless to say, we watched the hot dog eating contest (speaking of Dante...third circle anyone?) and hopped the train back to the blessed normalcy (?!?) of Manhattan.

We spent the afternoon sleeping off the whole Coney Island experience and got up to go to dinner on the outer edges of Korea town. This, or course, was fantastic (what did you expect?) and we indulged in a fantastic dinner of hansik while enjoying the most appropriate of dinner entertainment...Discovery Channel's "Dirty Jobs" playing on the flat panel TVs mounted to the restaurant walls...yeah...I didn't get it either. Afterwards we joined the masses for strictly so-so views of fireworks over the East River. We opted to duck out early and beat the subway traffic...stopping on our way home for gelatto and finishing the evening with a laptop viewing of "Talladega Nights." Shake & Bake.

Saturday was spent trying to beat the rain with my most bestest friend from college, Marne'. It was wonderful to see her and the latest edition to the Stott family, Ms. Aubrey. Aubrey is an angel and has completely shot all my expectations of how a child will behave when carted from one end to the other of a major urban center. Great.

After dropping off Marne' and Aubrey, we met up with the rest of our group for yet another phenomenal dinner at a Japanese grill. Again...I have no words. Afterwards we headed out to Queens to check out a Korean bath house and spa. I was in heaven. While this place had definitely been Americanized a bit (the better part of the bathing areas were coed, meaning swimming suits required...lame...) it was still a great way to chill out and relax. We stayed until midnight, drove home, and passed out...very full and very clean. It doesn't get much better than that.

In the past, when I have visited NYC I have always been very ready to get out after about three days, but on Sunday morning as we packed up, I found myself a little loathe to be leaving what had been something of an urban haven for us that weekend. Much laughing was done, much eating was pursued, and many memories were made. It was a great weekend, and when I returned to the office on Monday and my coworkers and I went for our morning breakfast run the question came up "So, what did you do this weekend?" all I could do was shake my head and laugh...

Something New...

2008-07-08T16:22:00.000-07:00

Okay, so no big news yet, just wanted to get thoughts on the new blogger template. I was getting a little tired of the canned blogger background and spent more hours than I care to admit sorting through Pyzam's roughly 2500 templates. Ultimately, I decided on this one. What do you think?

Something Funny Happened on the Way to the Mall...

2008-06-27T17:06:00.000-07:00

Today Jane and I were on our way to the National Mall to take in a free jazz concert at the Sculpture Garden next to the National Museum of Art...well...that is not exactly true. We were on our way home from a failed attempt (got to love summer thunderstorms in DC) to take in a free jazz concert at the Sculpture Garden next to the National Museum of Art...but I was having a devil of a time trying to come up with a catchy title to that effect. Anyway...I digress...

So, Jane and I had gotten on the metro and take a seat amongst the other passengers, not thinking much about it. Jane was telling me about her day at work and how her crabby and rude co-worker had said something that really upset her. She was telling me how it had been really hard with this particular co-worker lately, as she was always saying really rude or mean things to Jane. I, of course, was advocating some sort of confrontation to tell the crabby co-worker to take a long walk off a short pier, out the window, to the bottomless depths of he...okay, you get the idea. Anyway, we were talking about constructive ways (come on, give me a little credit) that Jane could approach the crabby co-worker.

Just as Jane was giving yet another explanation of some of the angsty antics of this particularly nasty employee, the train was stopping at one of stations. The man behind us (who from the brief glance I managed to sneak of him as he exited, appeared to be a decently dressed white haired man in his late 40's or early 50's) leaned forward as he was getting up to leave and said (not in his temple voice)

"She's just jealous because you're gorgeous."

And then he walked away. That's it. Just walked out. Jane and I just stared at each other and then burst into fits of laughter. Had that really just happened? Amazing. This guy didn't even look like a nutjob.

Now don't get me wrong, there is no reason this sort of thing shouldn't be happening to Jane on a regular basis. Any guy would be so lucky to get close enough to give my gorgeous six foot tall red-headed friend such a complement. If guys knew what was good for them, they would be throwing themselves at her feet. Anyway...I digress...Again.

The point is, people just don't do things like that. I'm not saying they shouldn't...I think it just took us both by surprise. But as Jane and I were walking home discussing the event, we decided maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing.

So, I've decided. It's time to start giving people more compliments. I know that nothing makes my day like when someone gives me an unexpected and wholly unsolicited compliment. I've decided maybe it's time that I tried harder to maybe make someone else' day.

Because there is no doubt that this guy definitely made our night...

Bliss...Or As Close As It Gets With This Crew

2008-06-26T16:38:00.000-07:00

As promised, here are the photos from claireclaire and Joel's wedding. It was a lovely affair all the way around...

Woo Hoo! Married!

Claireclaire and Joel Sittin' in a Tree...
Claireclaire and her bridesmaids...we were all on active duty that day
The bridesmaids: Kat, Carmen, Jocelyn, Amanda, Meredith

The Fam...plus the Wagstaffs

Daddy and his Girls
Me and Daddy...I love this one

Miss Jan and the Girls

Ryan was my date...So Handsome

Poppi and I...It Should be Illegal for a Grandmother to Look This Good :)
My Handsome Grandfathers...Grandpa Jed and Pop

Claire and Joel FINALLY got to cut the cake
Joel is already teaching Claire how to fit into a family of boys...and we were all ready...
But none of us could overcome Meredith's height advantage...so the 16 year old caught the bouquet...it could be a loooong couple of years :)
All in all, it was a fantastic weekend and we are so blessed to have Joel and his family as the newest part of ours.

By Definition...

2008-06-19T18:51:00.001-07:00

Last weekend I attended my little sister's wedding. It was filled with family old and new and despite the chaos that is inherrent in arranging and orchestrating a couple's nuptials, it gave me a chance to appreciate the family I have and the experiences that have shaped my life into what it is today.

While I am still living the swinging life of a single 20 something (and rather enjoying it, thanks for asking), I can imagine that marriage is not only life changing, but somewhat life defining. From that point, your life will never be the same, and you will forever, in one way or another be defined by your marriage. As I was considering this, I began to think about some of the experiences that have, to this point, defined me.

For me there are several...

My mission was clearly defining in that it taught me how fundamental a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ is in my life. It taught me how to work hard, and, perhaps, most importantly, it taught a chronically cynic and emotionally-guarded political science major on her way to the cold world of law school (thank goodness for detours on the career super highway) how to love those around her, regardless of how painful it could be.

My time in Spain...it was on this trip that I developed a love for many of the things that I enjoy most...art, languages, night life, truly delicious food, and discovering the intricacies (strange, beautiful, and otherwise) hidden in otherwise daily scenes and activities.

My move to Washington DC...this year has been so formative for me. I have grown up so much, and never before have I felt so comfortable in my own skin. After 12 long years I have finally grown out of my awkward stage...

As I thought about my life, these and many others came to mind. But, strangely, I kept coming back to one very early, and ultimately defining moment. Less of a moment, it is more of a story that has become a staple of Stanfill family lore; an event that I truly believe, in all seriousness, as strange as it may seem, set me on the course that I still find myself pursuing today...The Cat Incident.

Nobody forced me. That is the first thing you must know about this story. At no time was I ever made to do anything I was not completely comfortable with. I was encouraged to acknowledge my own limits, and act within those bounds. This is interesting, because I was four. That is the way my parents raised me, though...I never remember being treated like a four year old...more like an adult trapped in a very tiny body.

So that is where it begins. I was four years old. My family was living on a large cattle ranch in South Central Montana...you can google 'Middle of Nowhere' and it should be one of the first hits you get. It was a wonderful way to grow up, and there are still times when I miss it in a way that startles me. We were living in a tiny house on the ranch that had been moved there, originally, to house hired-hands. Because the house was not built on the site, it had been placed on a makeshift foundation of cinder blocks. There was a crawlspace beneath the house and a small opening in the foundation to the side of the front door that provided access to the space beneath the house.

That winter had been very cold, and, in an attempt to escape the weather, an ill-fortuned tom-cat crawled under the house to take advantage of the warmth, and met with some misfortune. More specifically, it died. I don't know how many of you have ever had the opportunity to be around a dead cat for more than a day or so...it is not a pretty thing. Needless to say, a dead cat detiorating beneath the kitchen of our very poorly insulated house was not a particularly pretty thing either. Something had to be done, but there were some problems...

The main problem was that there was no possible way my dad was ever going to get his 6'4" frame into that little opening beneath the house to get that cat out. In all actuality the main problem was that NONE of the men on the ranch (dad, grandpa, the hired men, etc) were ever in their wildest dreams going to be able to get that cat...and it needed to be got...fast.

So, my dad made me a proposition. He told me that if I would take a piece of bailing twine and crawl up in that hole and tie it around that cat's leg and pull it out of there, he would hold the flashlight so I could see (oh, AND I would get an extra cupcake after dinner, I remember that part quite clearly). He took me outside and showed me the hole, he showed me the hangman's loop he had tied in the twine, and he showed me how the flashlight made it as bright as day under the house. Then, he let me choose.

I think this is where part of the definition starts to come into play. My dad wanted ME to help with a job. I LOVED to help my dad with jobs. There was no question, I was in. Mom and Dad knew I could do it, and there was no reason for me not to...in all reality I was the most expeditious answer to a rather dire (not to mention odious) problem...but they never forced me. I got to choose. That's the way it's always been with my parents. They provide their support, experience, and advice, but ultimately, I get to choose. This has never been a question, and it might have something to do with that dead cat.

To put the end to a long short story, I climbed right into that hole, dad shining the flashlight the whole way. All I really had to say about it was "Dad, it STINKS down here!" Dad just responded "I know sweetheart, just put that loop around that cat's foot and let's get out of here." So I did. I crawled up to that dead cat, put that loop around it's foot, and crawled my four year old behind back out from under the house. I got to be a hero, and our house didn't smell like road kill anymore. It was a great day.

At the time (I was four, remember) I thought that was about the greatest thing that could have happened. I got to help dad with a job. I was ALWAYS trying to help dad with jobs and it usually ended up with me nearly getting trampeled in the cattle run, getting the four wheeler stuck in a ditch, or something else that would require dad to do more work than he already had cut out for him, so he didn't necessarily have to trust me. Now that I look back on it, I realize what kind of a feat the whole thing was for a four year old. A lot of things could have happened...I could have flat out refused (you might have too if you had seen what the underneath of that house looked like)...I could have crawled up in there, gotten scared and frozen, which would have been a serious problem seeing as how there wouldn't have been much of a way for anyone to get out me OR the cat...I could have gotten in there, decided it wasn't my bag, and turned tail and told dad to get the cat himself. All are fairly viable options and reactions for a four year old.

The thing of it is, I think the way I live now has a lot to do with that cat; independent and stubborn to a fault, implicity trusting of my parent's judgment and guidance, willing to go out on the occasional limb, and adventurous, despite usually wanting at least an informed idea of what said adventure might entail (I was cautious, even at four). Oh, and a sugar fiend (did I mention the cupcake?). It would be nice, of course, if I could blame my less admirable character traits on said feline; my inherent need for control, obsessive compulsive tendencies, and quarterly relationship (or lack thereof) related breakdowns...just to name a few. Unfortunately, we can't pin every last quirk on a definitive moment in time. The sugar habit does, however, still get blamed on the cat...when it's convenient at least.

Maybe you think I'm making light of the truly defining moments in peoples lives; the moments of clarity that make them change course, see the light, and blossom into the fully developed individuals they are today. You should know I am not. All I can say is that for me, the knowledge of who I was, what I could do, and exactly what I needed to achieve my goal crystallized in a very real way in my four year old mind as I stared into a dark hole, and set my sightes on a very dead cat.

*A note about the wedding, the actual impetus for this post...The photos are coming soon, since I know that's the only reason most of you look at this thing anyway.

Jersey Girls...

2008-05-09T05:32:00.000-07:00

Last weekend Jane and I ventured away from Northern Virginia to go see one of my very best friends from college, Melanie Brough. Melanie and her husband Dave and their beautiful new daughter Lillia live with Melanie's parents in Pleasantville, New Jersey, just outside of Atlantic City.

We had a wonderful weekend and Melanie and her family were too kind to show us all of the sights, including Atlantic City and their favorite family beach. Here are some of the photos of the weekend.

We went Over the River...

Through the Woods....

We were well stocked

Jane is the BEST travel buddy...not to mention she takes great travel picsWe met Melanie and went...of course...to THE BEACH
We touched the Ocean...well...the Ocean touched us...You will notice it creeping up behind us here...You can probably guess what happened next...We saw the sights...including this rather famous (?) giant elephant. It used to be a hotel.
We spent some more time at the beach...

We Saw Some Strange Things Along The Way...
In case you were wondering where it is...it's in New Jersey...I can give you directions if you need them...This, apparently, is the preferred method of moving in New Jersey...You can also play "I Spy" with all the items stuffed into the trunk...it's like a double challenge...Challenge 1) Find selected item...Challenge 2) See how long you can follow the car in order to find the maximum amount of items...Instant Fun

All in all we had a great trip. Many thanks to Melanie and her wonderful family for their incredible hospitality! Stay tuned for the next road trip adventure! HAPPY TRAILS!

Springtime in DC

2008-04-13T07:38:00.000-07:00

The Cherry Blossom festival is the official start of spring in Washington DC. Two weekends ago Jane and I rounded up a group of friends to go see the opening day of the festival, as well as check out the kite festival that was going on simultaneously. The day was a lot of fun, and not without moments of adventure...including but not limited too...crowd surfing in the metro amongst the THOUSANDS of people who turned out for the festival's first day...Jane's unfortunate run in with a small fence, and subsequently, the pavement surrounding said fence...nearly being killed by a kamikaze Barbie kite...and repeated uncomfortably close encounters with my friend (and ninja?) Kevin. All in all, it was a great day, and no one ended up falling into the Tidal Basin...so we'll call it a success. Below are some of the photos that I took while we were out. Not being a photographer, I am particulalry proud of the way several of them turned out.

The Smithsonian Castle building over the mall.

Cherry blossoms surrounding the tidal basin with the Jefferson Memorial in the background

Yet another photo for Jane and I's album...aren't we so pretty? Too bad I was being lazy and have my hair in pigtails AND it was cold so i was wearing my nubuck colored Columbia sweater...so I look a little like Pocohontas...Just around the river bend, anyone?

One of my favorite photos that I took. I love the Jefferson Memorial, and the branches in the foreground are really pretty. It was a great day for it, and the water in the Tidal Basin--despite being part of the Potomac (which you couldn't pay me enough to ever swim in)-- had a really pretty color.

A close-up of one of the blossom branches. I need to get a photo editing program because my iPhoto workshop just isn't cutting it at this point, and the blossoms look a little washed out.

Anne, myself, and Deanne. Remind me to not ever stand between those two beautiful girls ever again!

Anne and I. Love Love LOVE this girl!

Jane and I...again...like I said, we already have a killer "wedding album" :P

This is probably my favorite shot of the day...HAPPY SPRING!

I'm a Mom...

2008-03-23T18:35:00.000-07:00

I am a dog person, it’s true. My family has always had dogs, and I have no problem admitting my soft spot for canines (See photo of bichon frise, the kind of dog I will most likey get eventually. Truth be told I'd rather have a Boxer, as they are larger and more athletic, but for now something small and snuggly is more conducive to my lifestyle...anyway). People have asked me “Why not cats? They are just as cute and fluffy as dogs, easier to take care of, and better to have in small spaces.” All these facts are true, cats are cute, sometimes even adorable, they are a low-maintenance pet, and they ARE better for apartment dwelling, much as I am doing now.

Here’s the thing… cats are moody, they’ve got attitude (see photo. There's not room enough in this house for an attitude like that and my own). I figure I have enough trouble with my relationships with human beings. If I am going to have a pet, I want unconditional love. Dogs will give you unconditional love, and that’s what I am looking for in a pet.

So recently, for whatever reason, I have been really wanting to get a dog. For those of you who don’t know, I currently have three wonderful roommates. I have a personal belief that a person should never subject others to living with animals, because sometimes living with an indoor pet (a necessity in our neighborhood) is not the most pleasant thing in the world. So clearly, given the facts that our lease expressly forbids indoor pets, and that I will not subject my roommates to my canine cravings, I was not going to be able to act on my sudden urge to get a dog.

While not a dog, I have purchased a pet, and I would like to take the opportunity to introduce him officially on my blog. His name is Moshi. Moshi is a cobalt blue beta fish that has taken up residence in a fish shaped bowl in my room. Moshi is short for Moshi-ida, which, in Korean, means to be stylish or handsome. Moshi is both of these, so the name is fitting.

I understand, fish are not affectionate, they are not necessarily the best conveyers of that unconditional love I was talking about earlier. A fish will not cuddle up with you at the end of a long day, or get excited when you come home from work. You cannot walk a fish, it will not accompany you on a springtime jog…but what can you do? Moshi is there when I get home, he does flair his tail when I feed him, and somehow I find something very fulfilling about keeping something else alive. Call it maternal instinct.

So now I am the proud mother of a fish named Moshi. He seems to be quite enjoying his new surroundings (a serious upgrade from the cup he was living in at the pet store). I have finally gotten over the anxiety of him making a kamikaze leap out of his bowl—my cousin had an ill-fated beta fish who made several suicide attempts during bowl cleanings, one of them nearly ending in tragedy due to an over-excited roommate and a fork—and have grown very fond of him swimming contentedly around his bowl, nipping food off the surface of the water, and hiding behind his plant.

So, things seem to be going…well…swimmingly, if you’ll forgive the pun. Aside from the fact that Jane seems to be quite jealous of Moshi—she claims that she has been replaced by the fish, as she was on vacation in Hawaii when he took up residence in my room—he seems to be well received by the rest of the roommates, and I am rather enjoying having a pet again.

Identifying Doug...

2008-03-18T20:36:00.000-07:00

For those of you who read the last post, you might remember Doug, my long term, hacking, choking cough. Well, I finally broke down today and went to the doctor (after having completely lost my voice for the last two days). I did not want to go to the doctor, and I should point out that I haven't had a primary health care provider since I quit seeing my pediatrician when I was like 11, which, incidentally, was probably the last time I was sick enough to see a doctor, with the exception of a couple of bouts of strep throat in college that required a jaunt to the University's urgent care center...anyway, I digress.

The point is after two hours in a VERY depressing waiting room with no reading material except parenting magazines written by people who, from the tone of their articles, seem like they have maybe seen a child before...maybe, and another 30 minutes in a rather cold examination room sitting on that really awkward table with the butcher paper on it with only slightly more intriguing reading material--the March 2008 issue of Star Magazine (apparently Brad and Angie really are tying the knot this time!)--AND a 10 minute poking and prodding by what appeared to be a licensed health care professional named Greta, Doug and I have been diagnosed.

As it turns out, I have what appears to be Viral Bronchitis, with the option to upgrade to Pneumonia (lucky me). So, I am currently on antibiotics and some crazy cough pills that are sure to make me expel Doug and all his little minions that have taken up lodging in my respiratory tract. While I have to say I am thankful to have the illness that has been plaguing every waking moment of my existence diagnosed and prescribed to a treatment program, I was reminded today of why I hate going to the Doctor; lots of waiting, lots of sick people, and lots of time to sit and think about the things I could be doing rather than sitting around waiting for hours on end for someone to come in and tell me what I already suspected and then write me a note saying I can purchase outrageously overpriced prescription medication. Oh well, I shouldn't complain, things should start looking up, and I do have to say Greta was one of the nicest health care professionals I have had the pleasure (?) of encountering in my experiences as an ill person.

In sum, I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm not actually dying of death, just viral bronchitis. Thanks so much to everyone who's been concerned for my welfare and offered to help me out while I've been sick, I really appreciate it! You are all too kind.

Death Bed Repentance...

2008-03-13T17:26:00.000-07:00

Well, on Monday I came down with my second bout of the killer flu that has been plaguing the nation. I got sick with it the first time about a month ago over President's Day weekend. The flu itself really only lasted two or three days. The cough, on the other hand, has been hanging around since then. I felt fine after the fever and aches subsided, but the cough would not let go. My friend Jane and I decided to name it (my cough) Doug. We thought it was a suitable name for a houseguest that shows up un-invited and then overstays his welcome. No offense to any Dougs out there. Truth be told, it was really just personification for personification's sake, and I figured it would turn my semi-obnoxious and kind of gross hacking cough into a rather funny conversation piece...whatever.

So, the point is, the flu is back with a vengeance and I have been flat on my back since Tuesday afternoon. Needless to say, between the naps and the hours of mind-numbing daytime TV, I've had a lot of time to think about things. One of the things I have been thinking about is this blog. I realize I have been delinquent in my posts, and my near death (from boredom?) experience has helped me recommit myself to keeping everyone up to date on the details of my scintillating (?!?) life.

In the spirit of that, the most exciting thing that has happened is that I ventured out of the house today to get a haircut (see poor cell phone pic of my new haircut). Despite my near-death status, I showered and doped myself up sufficiently to go out among the living, mostly because my stylist is in high demand and I make my appointments 8 weeks out, AND it probably would have taken me nearly that long to reschedule it. Seriously, the things women do.

Turns out it was a good move. Amazing what a shower and a little lip gloss will do for a girl's mood. Not to mention the fact that I'm pretty sure the guy who cuts my hair passed his "Psychiatry for Hairstylists" class with flying colors because I always walk out of that place feeling like a million bucks. Nice Work Remy.

So, with that, from now on I promise to post regularly and keep you all up to date on what's been going on with me. Nothing like a little Death Bed Repentance to wake a girl up!

My Very Own Wardrobe Malfunction...

2008-02-14T04:10:00.000-08:00

The first thing you should know is that this post is completely impromptu. I have an entire list of posts I need to make (Josh, you may tease me about obsessive compulsiveness in your comment, should you [read when you] choose to do so) and this was not on that list. However, in light of today's events, I felt like it was appropriate to devote a little bit of cyberspace to yet another incident in a series of misfortunate events in the life of Amanda Lynn.

The second thing you should know is my creative juices have been a little stifled at work, so beware, this thing is a book.

The third thing you should know is that I read celebrity gossip. I admit it. I don't know why I do it and I can't make myself stop. It's trashy, pointless, and has no relevance to my life. I actually almost went on a hunger strike when CNN persisted in filling its prime time slots with stories about Paris Hilton, Lindsey Lohan, and their respective DUI's. For the most part, I deplore the people that the stories are about. I could not care less who they are dating, which rehab facility they checked into, or what comment they made in a public forum that made them look like they never made it past the third grade--and yet, I read.

I should probably clarify that my favorite mindless celebrity dribble to read are the best and worst dressed lists. Ask anyone I know, I love clothes and I love to shop, and let's be honest, celebs have the funds for seriously fantastic wardrobes...and I may or may not get a rise out of seeing certain uber-famous Hollywood starlets get slammed for wearing something utterly heinous. Anyway...I digress. If you have ever read celebrity gossip/best & worst dressed lists, you will know that occasionally stars will have an unexpected problem with their wardrobe, commonly known as a wardrobe malfunction.

In general, I would say that my day-to-day life is about as far from that of most celebrities as is humanly possible, with the exception, maybe, of living in a cardboard box on the side of the street. However, today, I had my own flash of what it might be like to be a celebrity in one of those awkward type, situations. Today, I had my very own public wardrobe malfunction. Okay, maybe that's a stretch to say that such an event puts today on par with a day in the life of an ill-fortuned starlet (it definitely doesn't, in case you hadn't picked up on the sarcasm infused into every syllable of this post), but it makes for a good story, so don't complain. Onward...

Most wardrobe malfunctions result in an embarrassing or inappropriate overexposure of the wearer of the misfortuned ensemble. At this point you can google images of "Wardrobe Malfunction" if you're really that curious, but I refuse to provide a link to most of the semi-to-extremely inappropriate content that such a search will reveal. Luckily, my personal wardrobe malfunction did not leave me exposed to all those around me, it did, however, make for some serious angst and embarrassment on a day that had already started out on a not-such-a-great note. So, without further adieu, here is my story.

In case you haven't seen the weather channel for the past few days, the east coast has basically turned into one big icy death trap. (see map. Note: this may or may not be the correct map for the storm we have been having, actually, I'm pretty sure it's not, but the large blue mass representing COLDNESS should be fairly indicative of the idea I'm trying to get across).

So, Virginia is a sloppy, icy mess and I was already not thrilled about the idea of going to work and having to fight for my life among the hordes of incompetent east coast drivers that would be inundating the roadways. The government had issued a two hour delay in arrival for all federal employees because of the weather, so rather than getting to the office at 7 as I usually do, I took my two hours and waited for things to thaw out, dry up, etc before heading to work. As a result, I had to park in the outer darkness of the far parking lots, mostly because I work with a bunch of crazies who will get to work early even if given a pass not to. Anyway. My parking spot was probably a grand total of about 1/2 mile from my desk (you think I'm joking, I'm not). I had gotten about 15 yards from my car when I heard a snap, and my right foot came flying out of my black, slingback heel. Not Good. I stopped to inspect that damage, and sure enough the elastic holding the two parts of the strap together had completely snapped. Great. (see shoe)

So, with nothing else to do I began schlumping/shuffling my way through the hopelessly puddled parking lot (read Ice Rink of Death) to my desk. Now one thing you have to know is that the place I work is home to a lot of employees. A LOT. This means that A LOT of people saw me very uncomfortably schlumping/shuffling while trying not to lose my shoe (ps, I was not very successful at this, and ended up with a rather wet right foot by the time it was all said and done). Particularly painful episodes included: 1.) Losing my shoe on the sidewalk while being stared down by a pack of electrical maintenance workers who kept looking at me with that "she could be hot, but what is wrong with her walk?" sort of confused, disturbed look 2.) Having to stand still while riding the escalator DOWN (this will be coming out shortly in my "List of Stupid Things Inconsiderate People Do That Drive Me Crazy" post. Yes, I was THAT girl) while soggy, angsty government employees backed up behind me wondering why the heck a perfectly healthy-looking girl like me wasn't just WALKING down the escalator like a normal person, and 3.) nearly biffing it completely while exiting the elevator on the 3RD FLOOR (yep, I'm a stair user folks, this was a big blow to my pride on a lot of levels). Anyway, like I said, great way to start the morning.

So I finally made it to my desk. Oh sweet cubicle, you have never looked so good! It was time to assess the damage and figure out how I was going to avoid more embarrassing incidents like the ones cited above. I realized in order to make it through the rest of the day I had two choices: 1.) find a way to fix my heel or 2.) put on my navy blue and white running shoes (see shoes, yes, those are actually my shoes, only mine are a good deal less white and shiny) with my black business skirt (see skirt). Knowing that this little ensemble would have most definitely landed me on Mr. Blackwell's worst dressed (insert of all time) list, I resolved to fix the broken shoe.

The situation was not good. The elastic holding the two pieces of the strap together was completely shredded (again, see shoe). I did my best to thread the existing pieces back through the buckle thingy (yes, it IS a technical term) and "tie" the shredded mess together. Guess how well that worked... I was feeling a little despondent, and wishing that I was more prepared, like a Boy Scout, or had a Boy Scout, or had a man who had been a Boy Scout...Wait, that's another post...anyway... I opened up my "miscellaneous-stuff-I-probably-will-never-need-but-keep-anyway" drawer and looked in, hoping to receive revelation, or a safety pin at the least. Passport, useless; toothbrush, no good; individual servings of pepper, umm, no; bandaid...good thought, but not quite. Then I saw them...a little family of black binder clips that I only pulled out when a paper clip just wouldn't cut it. They were black, unobtrusive, and sitting there waiting for me. It just might work.

So I took out the smallest clip, and attached it to the place where there was the most overlap between the two pieces of the strap (not too mention the tiny mass of freyed up elastic that I had hopelessly attempted to bind together). I attached the clip, folded down the silver tabs, and voila. It appeared sturdy. I took a few tentative steps around the office...no slipping, no rubbing. Only sweet success. I had just repaired my high heel with office supplies. (see discreet binder clip fix). I am, I thought, the quintessential modern superwoman; nothing will slow me down. Yes, I had a binder clip on my heel, but it was close the floor, and actually, surprisingly unobtrusive. I even realized that I could remove the silver tabs from the binder clip, so all that was left was the black clip body holding together the straps on my heel. Granted, this wasn't until AFTER I had walked around for several hours with the silver tabs still folded down over the straps (Note: I blame the lapse in ingenuity on temporary euphoria at the prospect of not having to schlump/shuffle around the office like a hobo for the rest of the day--particularly given that I had a meeting with the individual in charge of my promotions that afternoon--you can see how it would be easy to get carried away). All in all, it was a great success. I am actually considering just leaving the binder clip as a semi-permanent fix, seeing as how I am actually quite loathe to get rid of this particular pair of shoes, despite the fact that they are guilty of sartorial high treason.

So there you have it. I must say, for my very first wardrobe malfunction, it went pretty well. I'm still not a star, and I will probably never make a best-dressed list, or even the "Most-Ingenious-in-Office-Wardrobe-Repair-Job" list. However, I must say, I am enjoying my newfound afinity for binder clips and the feeling of discovering, what I consider to be, a low-level Super Power. Eat your heart out Lilo.

The Best is Yet to Come...

2008-02-09T15:42:00.000-08:00

This post is long overdue, for which I apologize. On January 27, 2008 President Gordon B. Hinckley, the President and Prophet of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints passed away at the age of 97. He led the Church for over a decade, and was the prophet for the better part of my life. This post is a small tribute to him and the influence he has had in my life and the lives of people worldwide.

I received news of his passing on Sunday evening from my mom. When she called and told me that he had passed away, I was surprised at my reaction. I was sad--President Hinckley has become so loved among members of the Church for so many reasons--but I felt strangely peaceful. I knew that even though President Hinckley had passed, there would be another president of the church. God will call another prophet, and the work of the Lord in these latter days will continue to roll forward.

To learn more about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and how prophets are chosen, click here

On Saturday February 2nd I watched President Hinckley's funeral. I have to admit, I was not excited about the experience...I suppose I thought that not making official (ie avoiding at all costs) the reality that one of the individuals who had impacted my life the most had left this earth would make it less painful. I realized that part of the reason why I had not felt affected by the initial news of his passing was because I had chosen not to deal with it.

It is a strange experience to be affected by so strongly by the passing of someone I had never met or had a personal relationship with. President Hinckley affected my life very deeply. He was the one who counseled us always with power and direction, but also with joy and love. He was the one who gave us the "6 B's" and shared his love for the temple and the ordinances performed there. He provided so much counsel and direction, but always did so while mainting a loving persona that personalized and endeared him to people around the world.

As I watched the proceedings of his funeral, I was struck by the words of President Monson, who reminded us that President Hinckley always looked forward to the future with an attitude of anticipation, knowing that "the best is yet to come." I was struck by this and took joy and hope in remembering that the Lord has promised us that the best IS yet to come. No matter what situation we find ourselves in, the Lord has promised that he will always provide for us and that if we are faithful he will bless our lives. Whether we are in the happiest circumstances of our lives, or the most desperate, there is always something better awaiting us. I do not think this means that we should be discontent in our position in our life, but that we should look forward with joyful anticipation to the blessings and plans tha the Lord has in store for us.

Click Here to Read the Transcript of President Hinckley's Funeral

I am so grateful for President Hinckley and the life he lived, the counsel he gave, and the love he shared with people around the world, inside and outside the church. I want to take this opportunity to express my love for the gospel, and the joy that I take in knowing that the Lord is deeply and personally involved in our lives. I look forward to President Monson's tenure as prophet and President of the Church, and once again, I am grateful to know that no matter where we find ourselves now, the best is yet to come.

Armchairs, Kidnapper Vans, and Other Misadventures…

2008-01-28T16:15:00.000-08:00

It’s a good thing to love your car. In a day and age where our society focuses a lot on the material, it’s great to be not only satisfied with one of the cheifest of our material positions, but to love it all encompassingly; this is how I feel about my car. My 2005 Honda Accord has never failed me and I do not get car envy. However, two weeks ago, I learned that an all encompassing love for ones car can lead to an overestimation of its capabilities, and, in turn, certain…misadventures.

Two weeks ago Jane (see photo of greatest friend ever) and I went to Ikea in Woodbridge, Virginia (a 22 miles trek) so I could purchase a big comfy armchair and ottoman. In classic Ikea style, both the chair and ottoman were advertised as requiring some home assembly and being packaged in 2 boxes each. I assumed that because the boxes would contain only PARTS of the chair/ottoman, the size would be manageable, and the whole purchase would fit nicely into my unconquerable little car. We picked up the required slips for the furniture and headed to pick up the boxes at the designated spot in the warehouse. When the employee brought out the dolly with my furniture, I instantly realized that we had a serious problem. Unlike most Ikea furniture, the chair was fully assembled; the “box” was the entire chair with big fatty cushions wrapped in plastic. The second “box” contained only the white canvas slipcover for the chair. I took one look at the chair, and knew we were in trouble. (See photo of troublemaker chair)
Being the optimist (read delusioned, depth perception challenged hard head) that I am I decided we might as well give it a shot, so I bought a length of rope, and figured if nothing else we could stuff the chair in the trunk, tie down the roof as far as it would go and drive home in the slow lane. We tried it frontways, we tried it sideways, we tried it diagonalways, upsidedownways, and every other way we could think of. It was clear that there was no way we were going to get that chair in the trunk of that car in a way that could possibly survive the 22 mile trip home. I realized that I had severly overestimated the capabilities of my little car…It was a sad moment.

That moment, however, lasted about 5 seconds because the bottom line was I had to get the chair, Jane, and myself home, somehow. Luckily, Ikea maintains its own Enterprise Rental Car desk for just such occasions. So, we headed back upstairs to the desk and I arranged to rent…wait for it…a 17 foot long white cargo van (see van).

Now, anyone who has watched CSI, Without a Trace, Law & Order, or any other TV series involving kidnappings or death will be familiar with just such a van (usually maintained by the perpatrator); 17 feet long, white, no windows. The lady at the desk hooked me up and promised this was the “latest” model. Awesome. It was tricked out with multiple cigarette lighters, nondescript white paint job, manual windows and door locks, and dual sliding doors for easy on/off loading of cargo/victims. So, Jane and I loaded the chair into the back and took off for home.

With wheels like these, who wouldn't consider a life of crime?

We spent the half hour ride making repeated jokes and references to how we were preparing for future events that would make it necessary for us to begin a life of crime (See photo of me as criminal). We played all kinds of games, like “Count the Kidnapper Vans” and sang much beloved road songs like “100 Duct-Taped Jr. High Kids.” Anyway, you get the picture. We made it home without any major incident, except being checked out by two forty year old men in their very own kidnapper van. I dropped off Jane and the chair, and headed back to Woodbridge.

Turns out, I learned a few things from this experience. First, Jane is great. Not many friends would find as much humor in having to drive home in a kidnapper van because her best friend thought her car had magic powers equivalent to Mary Poppins’ bottomless bag of tricks. Second, a kidnapper van WILL do 70 mph if you treat it right. It may or may not stop. Third and final, while those kidnappers do have dibs on sweet wheels, I think I will keep my cushy government job, and appropriately modest 4-door sedan.

It Was Bound to Happen...

2008-01-17T15:16:00.000-08:00

Well, after some deep introspection and a little prodding from a few friends and relatives, I am dipping a trepidatious toe into the pool that is the blogosphere.

To provide a bit of context for my decision to enter the wide world of blogging, you have to know that I have a special place in my heart for the art of prose, and hope to be able to share a little of my own style with anyone who might care to read. Also, I figure if I'm ever going to publish that book my dad's been after me to write for the last...oh say... 15 years I should probably start practicing and collecting those stories that make life worthwhile.

I make no promises that this blog will be comprehensive, deep, authoritative, or even interesting. There is also a very good chance it will occasionally be sarcastic, overly pragmatic, and, on the off occasion, a little ridiculous. I will promise, however, that it will be an attempt to stay in better touch with those who are dear to me, and hopefully provide an insight into the little things that make every day laughable, agonizing, and/or fabulous (in no particular order of importance or frequency).

With that, I will say that you have been forewarned, but I hope that you will find a few things in this small niche of cyberspace that are amusing, inspiring, or, at the very least, worth a good solid Jr. High-style eye roll. Happy Reading!