Simmered with a dash of surrealism

Expectations

2012-01-30T16:23:00.000-08:00

I don't know why I expected him to look different. As if somehow all the changes I had felt would somehow be portrayed in his face, the way he walked, some physical manifestation in him. And as we stood awkwardly positioned between the masses of passing students, I could help but notice his teeth.

Clean, but still stained a pale yellow with years of soda pop and gatorade, straight with distinct gaps between his top front teeth. I think I had to focus on his teeth to realize that he hadn't change. And to resist the overwhelming urge I had to hug him.

His laugh was the same, his coat, his smell still wafted temptingly towards me. I had to finger the ring on my left hand to remind myself-- even if he hadn't changed, things had changed.

"Don't hug him, don't hug him, don't hug him," I had to replay my commitment mentally to get the strength to physically resist.

Five years is a long time. You don't date that long without having a flood of memories assault you when you see someone after a month of absence. Dark nights, couches, fumbling in the dark. Early mornings, running, leg weights. Exotic flavors mingled with heavy beats keeping you moving on a dance floor. Millions of memories, but necessarily words. And yet his mouth kept moving and I still couldn't pull my eyes away from his teeth.

His eyes were too dangerous, those eyelashes would get me in a minute, and I knew it. On our first date, when he was still fresh in America and could barely speak English, he spoke with those eyelashes. Years later, when he was "teaching me Spanish" he used them again. Sitting side by side on my living room couch evolved quickly into laying on top of each other as he mesmerized me with those eyelashes. No, I couldn't risk looking at those eyes.

And I couldn't look down. I couldn't look at his hands. Those hands knew the weak spots around my hips. Those hands which had mapped the contours of my face and body countless times. I knew if I looked at his hands I would be tempted to hold them in mine.

So instead I fidgeted furiously with my hand again. I don't love him anymore. Yet, I will always love him. I will always have loved him, but now I am in love with someone else. And I was late to class.

Risking everything, I glanced into his eyes and said goodbye.

Crazy Lazy

2011-11-17T07:31:00.000-08:00

A secret: Most of the time I don't know the answer. Most of the time all I really want to do is curl up in a ball under my warm covers by myself and never come out. Most of the time I make it about on time. Most of the time I push boundaries. Most of the time.

The sweetest most serendipitous avoidance

2011-11-01T15:17:00.000-07:00

Email received from the boy with whom I am in love:

"One time my sister Sarah told me a story about when she went to Greece with her husband. One of their visits included a small restaurant in the town that they were staying in. I don't know how little, but it had two floors. I know this because they decided for some reason they didn't want to sit on the first floor and went up to the second floor. They found a seat in the back corner and while walking to it noticed someone who looked familiar. In fact, it was someone that they knew from their stake in Philadelphia, they were pretty good friends. But neither of them knew that they were going to be in Greece at that time and they hadn't really planned to go to that restaurant either. Had my sister and brother-in-law decided to sit on the first floor they probably wouldn't have seen this person and would've never known that they had been there.
I went to your class today but since I was a little over 20 min. late I decided I would wait outside until class was over to greet you. I pulled out a book and started reading. After some time had passed I looked up and everyone was leaving the classroom. I would probably make a pretty bad investigator, I'm obviously no good at stakeouts. But I figured I could still find you so I got up and peered through one of the doors. Someone who looked like they might be you stayed behind for a little bit to talk to someone who looked like they might be a professor. So I kind of stood between the two doors to the classroom hoping that I could catch you and took another look into my book. But that was a bad idea because when I looked again you had disappeared.
People can meet in random restaurants in Greece without planning it but if I try to intercept you on your way to and from class I can't do it. It's weird how things work (or don't work) like that.
I tried to look for you afterwards but I couldn't find you. I guess the only reason I wanted to see you today is that I wanted to tell you something.

I love you Rebecca"

Not only does he send cute emails like this, but he lets me paint things on his face while we are at habitat for humanity house builds (without complaining), feeds me raspberries, and carries me around when I'm tired. Who could ask for more?

Hal or you weening?

2011-10-31T16:04:00.000-07:00

I didn't realize it was Halloween this morning. I didn't realize much this morning actually. The pedal fell off of my bike while riding it to work on Friday (a story in and of itself) and so I am walking to campus until I can get it fixed. So when I was walking to campus in the pitch darkness I didn't really think much about the holiday, but more about being ambushed in the twilight hours.

I like Halloween though, because you get to see all sorts of fun costumes around campus, giant Bananas searching for their monkey, the testing center gone completely Harry Potter, random dance parties in front of the JFSB and, my favorite, the sexy saxophone man:

I also have my own sexy something man, I realized though while looking through some of the costumes we've donned that he seems to have a favorite pose.

We're just links in the chain or The Missionary Countdown

2011-09-04T12:55:00.000-07:00

Excerpt from my missionary collection of "Rebecca's Observations"

It started out as a joke. I suppose some of the longest lived traditions had similar beginnings.
The multi-colored chain links seemed to span eternity in the significance of each paper folded piece and it was a constant reminder of just how much time I had left until I would return back to my home, my family, my life filled with non-Korean, non-missionary like tasks.

But yet as each chain link is broken it provides a reminder of just how tangible time is, how short even the longest second is and how it goes

moving always consistently

stampeding, crawling, rushing,

unfeeling, regardless of our

desires to change, it is

immovable in its flippancy.

The links between now and my future fate. The cord connecting now with what has gone before and the eternal potential of tomorrow.
And it's an ethereal reality- a dream waiting to be lived since childhood which came all too quickly and what you thought was standing on your doorstep is now walking around your house, remodeling, re-painting, tearing out cupboards, cleaning out closets and you know it will leave before you are ready.
It seems all too much like a dream to be real, but the pinches and pokes, jabs, sneers, rejection, and tears let you know you're awake. And then one day you really wake up and there are no more links in the chain, it's over, and your time is up.

Time to start all over.

Bike me back to San Francisco

2011-08-18T10:20:00.000-07:00

I've been working on the Provo Bike Committee for the past little while, and I really love it. I love bikes. I love a sense of community. I love meetings. What could be better? Anna and I helped to sell neat water bottles with bikes on them at an outdoor concert. And I decided to start a bike education class, which will be GREAT. Or so is my hope. I have to get more information together and finally put together my power point, figure out who my audience is, and other such things.

In honor of bikes I decided to record some of my favorite biking memories.

As easy as ABC, 123

You might think with such an avid love of riding bikes that I learned early in life, but to be honest, I never honestly rode by myself until I was about 12. We had lots of bikes at our house, there was no shortage on rusty bikes, mostly provided by my Grandpa who would collect them from junk heaps and store them in the garage for years with a firm resolve to get around to fixing them one day. Eventually they would fall behind on his never ending list of projects and be buried by dust and good intentions.

But as far as working bikes were concerned, they were limited and almost always occupied by an older sibling. Considering all my friends were either across the street or too far away to even think of getting there on anything not motorized, I never had much motivation to learn. One day though I was invited to go on a bike ride with some friends and I was so embarrassed to admit my ignorance that I decided to learn.

So I approached my grandpa and asked him for a bike and lessons. He willingly agreed and explained how to mount, how to balance, and the basics of peddling. Or as much as one can explain it without using words so much as stories of his childhood. And then we were off.

My neighborhood in Kentucky is known for it's home-town feeling, quaint accents, and beautiful rolling hills-- the last of these became terrifying to my ten year old self looking down them from my bike seat. However, with my grandpa by my side and his comforting hand the back of my bike seat to guide me, I faced it with courage. One thing you should probably know about my grandpa, though, is that he is not fast. So after the first couple of steps he let go of my seat and I went careening down the hill.

The wind in my hair, the free fall feeling in my stomach, it was pure freedom. I closed my eyes and for a split second I could feel that this was where I belonged in life. Then I opened my eyes to the fast approaching base of the hill, the cross roads with an approaching car, and I realized I had missed a quintessential part of my training-- how to stop. I quickly veered into one of the deep ditches next to the road and came to an abrupt stop that included a stylish dismount over my handlebars and crumpling into a heap face first.

A few minutes later my grandpa came huffing and puffing up to me and apologized for letting me go. He related a story about his first (and last) time riding a motor bike and how after his accident he had sworn to never ride another one. He assured me that I could do the same if I wanted to and I wouldn't have to feel bad about never touching another bike again.

Thankfully, I discarded this loving advice and just learned how to use the brakes.

Tri- a little harder

2011-07-30T15:21:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure what happened actually.

If you would have asked me a year ago if I would ever run a race of any kind, I probably would have just laughed. I'm just not that kind of gal. I don't run. I don't race. I don't pay do things that I can easily do for free (like put on shoes or ride a bike).

While I was in Korea though I realized something: I can do hard things. I remember feeling this when I would wake up in the morning and wish more than anything to go home, to go back to the United States and back to the people and things that I knew and loved. I wanted so badly for things to be easy again, to fit in and to not just struggle and make it through the day, but to do things that I knew I could do well. I would pray every morning for the energy and the faith to get through another day. I could never look farther than that.

"Dear Heavenly Father," I'd plead, "help me to get through the day. I promise I will do the best I can today, but just send me home tomorrow."

And then about half way through I realized that I could do it. I looked back at all the days that had gone by and realized that there were fewer in front than behind. I realized that I had made it to the top of my mountain and the rest was possible.

I can do hard things.

This has become my mantra in life. I bike to and from work most days and every time I have this horrible hill to get over. It wouldn't be so bad if I had a bike that works and could actually climb any sort of an incline without breaking out of gear and causing my chain to jump. However, since I don't right now, I just grit my teeth, pedal a little harder, and mutter "I can do hard things, I can do hard things."

And that's how it started.

I began to start running in my seventh transfer, early last summer when I first was companions with Lee Kyung Ran. I remember that she would struggle out of bed every morning, not because she wanted to, but just because she wanted to be obedient. I didn't tell her that this was actually the first time I ran every morning with my companion. Every day I would set a new goal, one more lap, slightly faster, fewer stops, and on and on it went. Even in the winter we would wake up and watch as the warm air from our lungs would illuminate our path.

One of our investigators ran marathons. We went running with her and her parents one evening and I realized that although it was still beyong my capacity, it was not beyond my dreams. I could dream and plan and I could do it. So as soon as I got home I started my training schedule and in a little more than a month I have a marathon planned.

I was told though that more enjoyable than marathons are triathalons. So when I heard abou the free one happening this Saturday I immeadiately went online and signed up me and my younger brother and sister. And I did it. I even swam the entire 24 laps without a break and without getting water up my nose (a first in my life).

How does it feel?

Refreshing.

Removing the subtitles

2011-07-01T07:39:00.000-07:00

We all love the commentary, the sarcasm, the one who adds flavor and meaning and their own spin to things. I think that's why we love the news. We could get the same information in a much less flashy, must less biased manner, but then it wouldn't be news. Instead it would just be congress, talking of another bill, another imperfect man doing his best to lead a country, crimes from a moment of passion instead of the crime of a century.

But I've been trying to improve my language abilities, so I've decided to go without subtitles. At first it was confusing and I wondered if I was really catching everything. Could I really understand everything? Didn't I need other people to interpret and scrutinize? It requires a little more concentration, a little more astuteness, but once you don't have to watch the words you can begin to watch their faces. You pick up the subtle nuances of voice inflection, the turn of a head, you can begin to see if for yourself instead of through a lens.

So I decided to put it to the test, not only would it be for my Korean dramas, but I'd try it in real life. Not put words in people's mouths, not spend my time figuring out what I wanted them to be or mean or say. Instead I would spend less time analyzing and more time observing. More time really listening instead of mentally summarizing and compartmentalizing.

And although I can't say I'm a native, I'm definitely more fluent.

What I think about biking in the rain and falling and scrapping my arm

2011-06-29T14:01:00.001-07:00

Popular Mechanics for Lovers

2011-06-28T19:29:00.000-07:00

It's one of those books.

You know. The kind that you don't need. The one that you have so thoroughly mastered that you don't even have interest in it. The title is intriguing, but certainly not something that you would bother with, unless...

She is one of my best friends and the library is free, so I checked it out. I'll give it a quick look over at least.

And the more pages that I read the more I feel the desire to change. The desire to fix myself before trying to find the one who is out there waiting for me. I'm not a mess. But I'm not perfect either. And so I continue reading, mesmerized by the truthfulness of every page and the encouraged by the thought that maybe, somewhere out there, my soul mate is waiting for me. Waiting for me to realize it.

G00613 voice

2011-06-24T11:33:00.000-07:00

I love Google, I recently found out that Google Voice will listen to your voice messages, transcribe them to text, and give you the best laugh you could have expected. I have my favorites, of course, but today I got one that really gave me a belly laugh:

"Yes, I was trying to reach Chris, I'm trying to get a message to the Y innately easy as a contact. My name is Lisa, my number is ***-***-****, and I was thinking to return my call if you could give him that message. Thank you. Hello Hello. Cash express the place hum a happy."

Thanks Lisa, I'll make sure to relay the message.

Discovering the Cure for Cancer

2011-06-15T12:44:00.000-07:00

Freedom comes with a price and it's own sense of dependence. Free to sit at home. Free to wonder if I did the right thing. Free to hang out with friends and spend the night with Carin spur of the moment.

And yet a sudden dependence on my bike and my sister to take me places.

Anna and I went to visit Orem last night. Except after about five minutes her oil temperature gauge went off the charts. We prayed that we could make it safely there and back when suddenly the gas light went on and we pulled off into a gas station.

It was fortunate that we did, as soon as we came to a stop we realized that the engine was smoking. I jumped out, scared that any minute there would be a large explosion and only a little of me left. I crouched down to peer under the car and exerting my full expanse of car expertise announced, "We're leaking!"

There was a green trail that had followed us up the hill and as Anna and I sat contemplating what would have happened had we been so brave and silly to actually make it to Orem, God sent his messenger to give us some advice. Except this messenger was wearing an oversized Simpson's t-shirt, had shaggy unkempt hair and I wonder if he had ever seen a dentist... in his life...

"Stand back," he warned, "I've seen those things explode before." Needing no prompt, Anna and I both leaped backwards a good ten feet and allowed the homeless angel to open our hood and proclaim that it was the worst case he had ever seen, but our anti-freeze had boiled over and was dangerously low. As he opened our anti-freeze container and advised us to "wait it out", both Anna and I began to thank the heavens for this fortunate turn of events that lead us to
1. not dieing
2. not being stuck on the side of the road

As we waited I pulled out the never-been-read-before user's manual and began flipping through. After laughing as some of the inane signals that were found there, I nudged Anna,
"Look, this says that if the engine over heats then all these other symptoms may become evident as saftey mechanism."
Anna looked at the pages in shocked amazement, "this is wonderful, I'll go get my car fixed tomorrow and what I thought was a million problems is really just one problem. Becca, this is like finding the cure for cancer"

"Except," I reminded her "we haven't found the cure, just the cause." Ignoring my comment she blissfully began repeating "We've found the cure for cancer! We've found the cure for cancer!" And I couldn't help but smile and laugh at my wonderful, crazy little sister.

So if you pray for help, don't think God's not listening just because it doesn't turn out the way you want. We can learn a lot from break ups and break downs and breaking apart and God is always helping us out.

Looking Back

2011-06-08T07:13:00.000-07:00

Do you ever wonder if maybe you have too many good options. For a girl who can't say no, it can be hard. I had a dream about a boy who I haven't seen in at least ten years. He came over, and it was odd, he was married, I was still dating someone else, but he came over. He was trepid and then he told me, he told me that he still felt bad about that week, the week when it was over. That he could still remember my broken hearted face and that he was sorry.

I laughed. I had overcome it so long ago that it almost seemed inane to remember it. I assured him that I had recovered and that it was best to have happened, because now we were both happy in our separate lives and I had been able to grow so much from this experience. I had gone on a mission and lived out on my own, I had grown and learned and become. There was no need to apologize.

And I hoped that it was a message for me. I woke up feeling okay again.

Hollah for some Challah

2011-05-16T07:02:00.000-07:00

Recently I remembered my ever deep love of the free Macey's Little Theater classes and I attended one on bread-making which was hands on and I got to even take home my own dough to make it later. I have never been very good at making dough, but I think because of the neat braided effect and the artisan looking sesame seeds on top that people enjoyed it although it was not too difficult nor necessarily a taste that would blow anyone away.

Hallah:

3-4 cups flour
1-3 t salt
1-2 eggs
2-7 T honey (depends on how sweet you like it)
2 T yeast
1-2 T olive oil
2-3 cu water
raisins/nuts to your liking

Mix yeast with 1/2 c lukewarm water, let sit for 5 min or so, stir to dissolve
Pour flour on your work surface, make a well for adding other ingredients. Add salt, eggs, olive oil, honey and the yeast water to the well (also nuts/raisins if desired go in here)
Gradually stir in flour from the sides to make a soft dough. Knead until dough is elastic and ready to rise.
Divide dough into 3 balls and let rise until double in size. (about 1 hour)
Roll each ball into a long strand, and braid strands (just like you'd braid hair)
Place the braided loaf on a baking sheet (sprinkle baking sheet with olive oil/flour/cornmeal to prevent sticking) let proof until doubled in size. (about 1 hour)
Preheat oven to 375 F
Brush loaf with egg wash and sprinkle with poppy/sesame seeds
Bake until golden brown and cooked through (30-50 min)
Remove from oven, let cool, enjoy.

Challah is a traditional Jewish braided bread that has many different variations The ingredients are typically the same, but the amounts vary by a wide degree depending on which recipe you follow.

Boggling

2011-03-30T11:54:00.000-07:00

It was the return that was shocking. I had planned for 21 years to go on a mission and so although there were challenges and many things to over come, a language to learn, a culture to immerse myself in, a people to teach and a slough of other things to take care of, it all came and was taken care of.

But being back was a different story. Who had prepared me for this? For the yearnings of Korean food and no one understanding me when I spoke and no one being as excited to see me as they should have been. No one really even seemed to care that I had just spent the past year and a half in another country changing myself.

But as I sat down with some of my favorite people to play one of my favorite games I remembered how much I really do love my family, even if they aren't Korean (yet). I remembered that there is always time to go back and visit Korea.

Take a hike

2009-09-17T08:02:00.000-07:00

On Labor Day my mom decided we should all go on a hike up Stewart Falls, which leads to a beautiful waterfall. Unfortunately, everyone else had the exact same idea, so parking was limited and the hike to the trailhead added an extra twenty minutes or so. Even though some of us decided not to go the entire way I got a couple pictures of my family.

My step-dad, Terry

Little brother Louis

cutie pie sister, Anna

scientist brother, Josh

And it wouldn't be complete without cutie cakes Kevin

Flying high

2009-09-16T07:40:00.000-07:00

One of the great things about being back in Kentucky was getting to visit with my half siblings. I was exhausted by them at every turn, but in the end I realized that hey, they're just kids and they deserve some time to be rowdy, crazy, and a little insane, because in a few years they wont be able to go back.

One morning, when I woke up Ilya came rambling into my room. Ilya is a splendid little fellow and I love to play with him. I remember going to Europe with him last fall and some mornings we would wake up early and go running. He was only 5 at the time and so his little legs couldn't really keep up, but he tried and I slowed down. It was a great way to explore, especially since things are so much more exciting when seen through the eyes of a 5 year old.

This time when Ilya rambled into my room I grabbed him up and read to him on the bed for a few minutes. I then had this great idea and below are the results.

Put the cheese in the cake

2009-09-15T06:04:00.000-07:00

For my farewell and to double as a birthday cake, I made myself a cheesecake on Sunday. It was my sister's recipe and another sister's springform pan, but ultimately my masterpeice and completely delicious.

Birthday Blues

2009-09-12T16:23:00.000-07:00

My eyes are kind of itchy. Sometimes that happens when I cry a lot.

My mom and I listened to a talk on tape about marriage the other day and this guy was explaining about how we need to communicate better. A family had hired him to come observe their family to see if there was any way they could communicate better and while he was sitting at dinner with them he noticed the grandpa. What this guy would do when he wanted something, instead of asking for it, was to just stare at it until someone noticed. When asked why he replied "it means more when you don't have to ask," or basically the equivalent. The speaker went on to discuss how this notion is way off base and we can't expect others to read our minds.

Most of the time, I understand that. Sometimes I deviate.

Like my birthday.

For most days of the year I am happy to give and to receive and to not get upset over stupid things. On my birthday I always expect people to say "Happy Birthday" without being prompted. I want to be pampered and princessed and remembered, but I don't feel like I should expect these things. So instead I wait for someone to say something, or, like this morning, if no one says anything after a few hours then I will say "mom, guess what day it is today!"

Then instead of saying "I'd rather not go on your errands, I have a headache and I really just want to sleep in" I say "sure I'll go with you" and then I am cranky while I am dragged all over tar nation so that my mom can pick up some random herb and return some dinky telephone device. And then when I feel like nothing is going how I had wanted, I cry.

Continuing my example, sometimes I just need to take matters into my own hands and plan things. Kev asked "what would you like to do for your birthday?" to which I replied that it didn't matter too much just so long as I was with him. I did, however, mention that I love going out to plays, museums, musical concerts, operas, and eating dinner out. I suppose what I should have explained is that it doesn't matter so much what we do so long as we do something and so long as I feel like it was planned in advance because then I feel like people care about me and remember me. I suppose instead of saying that I was fine with him taking a test what I should have said was that I knew he needed to, but it would mean a lot if he could make it up before or around noon, instead of 6pm. I suppose what I should have said is that I go crazy by myself.

Or something like that.

Doing just peachy

2009-09-09T08:49:00.001-07:00

One of my favorite things about late summer is peaches. I love the way they look and smell and most of all the way they taste. I love the way that a ripe peach can just dissolve in your mouth leaving you with a desire for more.

This week when I was out exploring with Anna and Kevin we chanced upon a small local grown produce stand. It had splendid melons, peaches, apples, pears, etc. We arrive and the lady at the stand says to us "just wait one moment, I have to run around to the back and get some apples. I am wheeling and dealing this morning."

While we are waiting some other customers arrive and I overhear the following conversation:
lady 1: I wonder when this fruit was picked
lady 2: It says it was picked fresh daily, but considering daily is misspelled I'm not sure if you can trust it

I looked at the signs and realized that about every 5th word was misspelled, however, at a local fruit stand I wouldn't assume this as an immediate sign of discountability. Instead we waited patiently for the lady and Anna asked:
"I have $4, how much can I get?"
fruit lady: "2 each. 2 apples and 2 peaches or 2 apples and 2 pears"
Anna: "uh... " *thinking* $1 for a fruit! Outrageous
fruit lady: "they are 50 cents each"
Anna: "So doesn't that mean I can get 8?"
fruit lady: "No, because... oh, yeah"
Anna: "okay, thanks"

So we start to peruse the fruit and as we gently are picking them up and straight away putting them in our bags the lady looks straight at us and says:
"No... no... no pinching. No, no, pinching. You know, no squuuuuueezing." At this she makes squeezing hand motions and I choke on my laughter telling myself it's not polite to laugh in people's faces. Instead I nodded, turned around and bit my cheek as hard as I could and ushered Anna to hurry.

As we quickly finished choosing our fruit and went to pay the lady apologized for her being "out of it" by explaining:
"I've been the only one here all day and I've been up since zero dark."

Anna handed the lady the money as I had disappeared to the car to release a nice hearty laugh. And it is people like this that keep me sane, people who make me laugh.

Thank you peach lady. And maybe next time you wont have to wake up at zero dark.

Taking Care of Business

2009-09-05T10:37:00.000-07:00

I have been in Kentucky for a few days now and I go home tomorrow evening. Was it worth it? Well, let's take a look at a few of my personal goals for this visit:

See my siblings Ilya, Maria, and Julianna and Natasha my step-mom
See my grandparents and record an interview with them concerning their life
See MaryAnn Hack
Go to the temple (either Nashville or St. Louis)
Bring back something memorable

What I have done?

Saw and played with and took care of and carted around and buckled up and pushed on the swingset Ilya and Maria while also getting to carry around the happiest baby on earth
Sat and talked with my grandparents for hours, although I didn't have any sort of recording device
Saw MaryAnn and helped her make a quilt, also ended up picking fruit with her like I used to. Also got to see John Hack and Lea Adams and JD Hack because I was with Mary Ann. While doing this I got lots of nice muskadines which I can take back to Utah
Went to the temple in Nashville this morning with my dad which also allowed me to talk to him for four hours about life, his marriage with my mother and his advice on marriage, finances, life and health insurance, his various opinions, etc.
Found a four leaf clover!

All in all, I would say it has been a success.

Some things never change

2009-09-04T04:32:00.000-07:00

Although my Old Kentucky Home is a little bit older and there are a few more crayon marks on the walls, there are some things that never change.

Trees are everywhere.
The people are just as friendly as ever.
The people are just as prejudiced as ever.
There are run down houses and barns and stores more than there are ones in good condition.
Everyone asks about how your family is, everyone wants you to make sure that you done tell your Mama that they done said hi
"Yes ma'am" and "no ma'am" and, "Mama, you better slow down" sound just as polite and in place as they ever did
There is no real politically correct Kentuckian, however, they love you no matter what they call you (especially the little downs boy across the street)
There is a cloud of cigarette smoke at every public area (churches, stores, restaurants, gas stations, you name it)
Gas prices are 60 cents cheaper than Utah
It takes at least 20 minutes to drive anywhere you want to go
Everyone owns/drives a 4-wheeler
Girls dye their hair blonde, visit the tanning beds, wear skimpy dresses and put on 3 layers of make up to attract men who wear wife beaters, camouflage, and who talk dirty behind their backs
The weather is unpredictable
Everyone knows about everyone else's business

But boy howdy, look at how pretty it all is.

Some of my favorite MaryAnn sayings include

Lea, you're sweating like a nigger telling the truth
Becky, do you believe the Lord loves your Mama? I do, I believe the Lord loves you Mama. One year we done planted twelve DEAD tomater plants at your place and she done got them to sprout up and grow tomaters like they were prize winning plants. But this year we planted 90 nice plants here and not a one of em produced.
*Retelling a story about her childhood* They called me Runt, I done forgot what they called t'other ones.
I reckon I done spoiled him *her son JD* but I can't help it, can I?

Past memories gleaned from others

2009-09-02T19:03:00.000-07:00

This week I am spending in Kentucky. It is odd though, because it is not the Kentucky I grew up in. Everything has aged, become run down, or else completely morphed. The friends who were my contemporaries are all but gone and I have been spending most of my time with people over 50.

I sat with my grandparents for hours. I have never really had a conversation with them, but I tried. I asked them about how they met (both of them worked in a Dime store). I asked my Grandpa about his war experiences and he told me a little about all of the neat places he had gone, including Manila, Okinawa, Iwo Jima, Shanghai, and much more. Memories that I had never been able to glean from them before.

I visited Mary Ann Hack who used to babysit me and who I spent more time with than anyone else in this world. I would spend entire summers over at her house, picking berries, grapes, vegetables, figs, and catching frogs. She's just as fun as ever. She needed to type up some stories of her brother and I wrote about her childhood as she retold it to me in the car.

I looked through hundreds of pictures belonging to John Hack that reflected his time on board a Navy ship in World War II, recent pictures, and everything in between. For hours he told me about one thing or another until I thought my ears would fall off from listening.

Lea Adams, the Korean lady who lives in Metropolis, was a special treat to visit. She showed us her garden and told us about stories of her son and then when I took down her pictures she expounded on all of her siblings and herself. She even tried to teach me some Korean, but it was slow going as she has had trouble writing and reading and moving ever since her stroke and her head injury years ago.

Joy Lawrence, Mary Ann's best friend who is more like a sister than a friend, sat with me and told me about her children and grandchild. All this, of course, while we worked to make a baby quilt and she offered me water (at least seven times).

I also learned quite a bit about myself when I was younger, which is always a treat, as I don't remember most of it. My grandmother reminisced about how I would always steal people's purses and run behind the couch. Mary Ann told me the story about how she befriended our family.

"I saw you," she said, "and you were just about the shiest thing I'd ever seen. You'd cling to your Mama and hide between her skirts and under her coat. When I saw that Cecilia done got pregnant again, I said to myself 'Now Mary Ann, you gotta make sure that this next child isn't like that. This next baby is going to be so full of spunk and brightness and joy that she aint ever going to meet a stranger'. And she just about turned out that way, didn't she?"

Mary Ann then told me all about how she spoiled Anna right to death. Everything had to be perfect when Anna came over and Anna was even named after Mary Ann. Anna was her special child and when all of us grew up, she didn't much know how to take it. Last winter Mary Ann was in the mental hospital as she had a mental break down and her husband has never treated her very kindly. Since then she has recovered for the most part, but you can tell that she has to keep a bright outlook and stay busy making baby quilts or else she gets awful sober.

Happy Birthday Josh

2009-09-01T19:11:00.000-07:00

Monday was my brother Josh's birthday and so I decided to make him his favorite cake-- German chocolate with some almonds. Love that sort of thing.

End of an Era

2009-08-28T09:36:00.000-07:00

I have been working for the Office of IT at BYU for three years. I have been working here since the first day of my classes at BYU and I can't think of my BYU experience without it. Although I wasn't too sad to end classes for a year and a half, leaving my job is a tear filled experience. I love the people, the environment, helping people on the phone and face to face. Everything about it, the experiences it has given me to grow and to learn and to become a better employee, a better student, and an overall better person. But since my mom doesn't want me to come back after my trip to Kentucky, then today must be my last day.

Good bye many long years of fun, fashion, and fones.

The fourth of Gorillas?

2009-08-27T01:33:00.000-07:00

What is more patriotic than a Harley covered in sheep skin, saddle bags, and toting a gorilla topped trailer?

The answer: nothing.

Tahitian me Noni

2009-08-26T03:54:00.000-07:00

A few weekends ago Kevin played piano at Tahition Noni. It was a beautiful performance and I got to wander around the gardens.

I decided that when I get back from my mission and especially when I am married and have some sort of land to my name, I want to have a beautiful garden full of trees, hidden benches and retreats and some sort of water source.

Doesn't it sound enchanting?

Kevin was also amazing on the piano.

Funny Face

2009-08-25T04:31:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you just have to let loose, stuff your face with cherry tomatoes and let go.

Even if it seems a little scandalous.

Happy food

2009-08-24T14:55:00.000-07:00

I love eating food. On Friday I invited my gorgeous friend Autumn over and we ended up making delicious food. Here are our left overs.

Does parsley just make you want to smile?

Kevin's plate wasn't nearly as happy to be finished.

Birthdays and Creativity

2009-08-21T15:35:00.000-07:00

My co-worker found out that I like to decorate cakes so he asked if I would make one for his wife's birthday. He wanted pink cream cheese frosting with white icing for the writing. It was a lot of fun and I learned what not to do when making cream cheese frosting. I.e. don't melt the cream cheese beforehand, once you lose the consistency, it is gone. F-O-R-E-V-E-R.

Also, Kevin, with the best of intentions, made an entire bed of frosting leaves for the strawberries. I'm not sure how I feel about them, but they are good, just a little funny looking.

I bet Stephanie was so happy.

Did I mention that it is double layer cake and that I filled it with the cream cheese filling and cut up strawberries. Mmmm, I hope it tastes good. I probably ate at least a cup worth of frosting making this and if that is any indication, then it will be amazing.

Cutie for the pot

2009-08-19T11:53:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I forget just how nice Kevin is. Yesterday though I was reminded why I like him so much.

I had to call my internet provider in order to cancel our service as they are charging us an arm and a leg and it is under someone else's name. However, it took a while to go through all of the explaining and transferring from office to office and so I took off my shoes while I was sitting in Kevin's car, kicking them onto the grass while I waited. When I finally finished I shut the door and we drove off to my next appointment.

We drove into the parking lot, I started to get out of the car, and low and behold, MY SHOES WERE GONE! I had left them in the grass and I didn't have time to both go back and get them and run this errand. So Kevin selflessly gave me the shoes off his feet and I walked around looking slightly like a clown until he brought me back my shoes. It was a wonderfully kind thing to do.

Then after my long day at work when I was tired and hungry, he came over with a load of my laundry that he had cleaned and beautiful flowers. He knows that since my floral design class that I have a love of flowers, especially exotic looking ones. So he brought me some myrtus, delphinium and a stem of orchid. Aren't they beautiful?

Autobiography 7: Pig tails

2009-08-18T07:02:00.000-07:00

My hair and I have always had to struggle to get along. I am inclined to like it, I want to love the way it curls or the way it falls around my shoulders and the way it emphasizes my face, but it doesn't actually do any of those things, and it is ever so rebellious.

Exhibit A (I am the one in the front):

When I was little my mother would always talk about how it was a rat's nest, but much to my dismay, there never were any animals who came to make it their home (except lice every few years from school). She tried many tactics to get me to brush my nest, but my favorite was once when she bought me my very own brush and said that I could keep it if I would brush my hair until it was "as soft as a bunny".

I struggled with it in Middle School and often we became friends, but only because neither of us had anyone else. It would help me hide myself and I would retreat behind its stringy blonde locks. Like myself, I couldn't look at it too long before I felt ashamed. But it was just part of who I was.

Exhibit B:

In High School I said good bye to its length. Things look different when your eyes aren't blocked by hair. Your face has to make a name for itself and you are suddenly seen. It was a reverse Samson effect and I suddenly felt power, strength, and flirtatiousness flowing through me. And let me tell you, I was hot to trot. I wore cat ears, clothing purchased from D.I., scarves in the summer, ties, rain boots, and anything else that you can imagine. I was proud and my hair and I finally began to become friends.

It still has its rebellious days when it tries to tell me that it wants attention, maybe a hair cut, some product, or something else to keep it happy. But overall, I have learned to really enjoy my hair and what it can do for my face. Recently my favorite thing has been pig tails. It always reminds me of Penny from the Rescuers, which was one of my favorite childhood movies.

It made me want gingersnaps (which I had never had before) and it fed my desire for small creatures to live in my hair. So now every time I pull my hair back it is not just to get it out of my face, it is not just a hair-do, it is a memory. It is a return to childhood and a desire to be young again, but this time to do it right.

Let the Preparation begin

2009-08-14T05:26:00.000-07:00

I have been preparing for my mission for a while now, but since classes ended this week and I took my last final last night, I can now really focus on mission things. I have already packed all my belongings into my room and am in the process of getting them in boxes for storage at my mother's house. I am quite excited and have been reading through Preach My Gospel, the D&C and also watching YouTube videos on the Korean alphabet.

Autobiography 6: A Few of my favorite things

2009-08-07T01:06:00.000-07:00

I love a lot of things and the ever growing list is much to big to contain here or anywhere else. Periodically I will make a new list because I love making lists, here's one for now:

• Watermelon, mangoes, kumquats, Croatia, fruit in general
I have always loved eating sweet things and fruit is definitely sweet. On my trip to to Eastern Europe I spent the most enjoyable moments of it gallivanting around looking for fruit trees. My step-mom Natasha understands my love of fresh things and would often make my dad pull off to the side of the road so we could pick pomegranates and olives. (Fresh olives are NOT on this list)

• budgeting, finance books, conferences on money
Something about money and reading about money and talking about money is just titillating. I think a lot of it has to do with how infrequently any of that happened growing up and how little any of this ever happened. I suppose now it is more like a hidden art that I love to learn and to budget and to plan is just exciting.

• taking typing tests and getting paid
While at work one morning one of my coworkers showed me this neat online free typing test and somehow it became really addicting to type things and to try to improve my typing abilities. It also reminds me of just how often I use the back space button, it is definitely my best friend. If I am allowed to use it, I can get pretty good accuracy on things, otherwise I am basically doomed. I also participated in a study where they had us do typing tests and we got paid more for the faster and more accurately that we typed. I got $14 out of a possible $15. Not to brag, but I've got skills.

• going on road trips with good music
There's nothing like an open road with an open bag of snacks and some good music playing in your ears. It's like a movie with accompanying sound track, except, you're IN IT. When I read "Xen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" I remember how the narrator lamented the fact that most people when they go on road trips don't really experience it. He likened driving in a car to watching a movie, although you are driving past things, it is still so disconnected, seen through a square box, without you feeling the wind or the bugs or the proximity of your body to the road. When I go on road trips though, I roll down the window and I let it all in then I blare the music and let it all out again.

• hammocks
One summer when I lived in a house without air conditioning (which has actually happened every summer since I've lived in Provo) I found out that hammocks are a joy. I would go out and sleep in it at night and I loved it. Of course, some how it would always get freezing cold and then the strings would dig into my back. Hammocks though are a great joy, they are like swings, but for adults.

• otter pops
I am addicted. There is no other way to really explain this. I once bought a box of 500 and by the next day there were only green and purple left (I don't eat green and purple). Basically this means that in the course of a day I had somehow consumed at least 450 otter pops. It was amazing. I still don't know how it happened.

• the smell of water on the pavement
Growing up, I loved playing in the rain. There is something very comforting about warm water pouring down over you while you lay down and let it soak all in. Also it means that you can stomp around in the mud and let it squish between your toes and not even worry about it. So now to smell water on pavement brings me back to my childhood and is very nostalgic.

Laughing, but not sleeping

2009-08-04T11:50:00.000-07:00

People are not pokeman, you can't catch them all. But sometimes I revert to the antics of a 6 year old and all I want is more. I can't decide so I hold on to everything with all I have. Give it up? Never.

Autobiographies 3, 4, & 5: Croatia and my father

2009-07-31T16:16:00.000-07:00

I have never had an ideal relationship with my father. I’m not certain anyone who has so many kids can really have a magnificent relationship with all thirteen of his children, but to add to this, my father works a lot and I only ever got to see him on weekends growing up or after my parents divorced I would see him during the summer. I suppose the fact that he is very analytically minded and has never been able to relate to my terribly emotional self doesn’t help. Even after all of this, I think I could have found myself easily loving and idolizing him because of his intellect and stalwart spirit, except for the fact that ever since I was very young my mother and he did not get along and she had always led me to believe that he did not really love me, he was only fighting for custody because he disliked her so much.

Children believe a lot of things and with nothing to contradict her (like I said, he was never really home and he never reached out to me when we were together) I continued hating my father for a very long time. About the time that I was 16 I moved to Utah and I began to really forgive my father. I still am not entirely certain if he did the things my mother claimed that he did or if he even knew how much I hated him, however, I finally was able to forgive him inside of me. Forgiveness is funny in the way that once you fully forgive you realize that you were the one being hurt and not necessarily because of the actions of the other person, but because you were holding onto bitterness inside.

It wasn’t easy, it took a lot of praying and crying. I never said “I forgive you” to my father, he may not have known what he even needed forgiveness for, but I forgave him anyway. I forgave him for the years I felt inadequate and the years I thought he was calling me fat. I forgave him for the years of my childhood when I felt like I was running away from him. I forgave him for all the pain I felt at him not loving me.

I began to call my dad. Now that we were hundreds of miles away, I only saw him occasionally on holidays and rare visits so I took it upon me to call him a few times a week. My dad isn’t the best at keeping tabs on his children, so I am convinced that had I not called him I probably would not have heard from him at all. However, through these bi-weekly phone calls I began to learn about my dad. My dad doesn’t talk very much about his feelings. He doesn’t really talk about himself at all. Asking him how he has been doing is like pulling teeth, he would rather talk about everything and everyone else before he begins about himself or how he has been feeling. My dad has a lot of goals and he feels fully capable of fulfilling them even as he gets older in age including: visiting every country in the world, creating a dream house in the middle of Kentucky that is modeled after the European style houses with accompanying bed and breakfast with little cottages from various European countries, taking all of his children on an out of country trip, etc.

The most revealing two experiences for me though were once when I was 15, just about to move to Utah and then later when I was 20 and had agreed to go to Eastern Europe with him.

When I was 15 ½ my mother decided that she would take me and my two younger siblings and we would transplant ourselves from Possum Trot, Kentucky to Spanish Fork, Utah. She had received this location through prayer and Anna, Louis, and I were ecstatic about the decision as we had wanted to move since I was in the 3rd grade. My dad was against the decision and my mom fought for a while to finally get him to let us to leave. He finally agreed, but we had to stay with him in Kentucky until the end of the summer. One day he took Anna, Louis, and I up into the play room upstairs where he had a large list on the board. Labeled on both sides were pros and cons of being in Utah versus Kentucky. He sat us down and droned on about school systems, housing conditions, socioeconomic status, spiritual progression, family ties, and everything else that may change with our location.

Set on my decision to leave, I sat with arms folded, determined to prove that Utah was by far the superior in quality and that staying in Kentucky would be a detrimental damn to my progression in life. And then as we reached what I deduced to be the conclusion of the lecture, my dad turned around with tears in his eyes and said something to the effect of:

“And still, none of these things would really matter if it was where you needed to be. But the biggest thing I am worried about is that you will be away from me and I will not be able to see you. I’m your father, I love you.”

The tears. The sincerity. The way he exposed himself in that instant hit a chord in me so violently that I began to shake and then to cry. I could feel my heart ripping from my chest. How could I be so cruel and so judgmental? How could I possibly have be so callous as to think that this man didn’t love me. He was my father who had sacrificed so much of his life in order to earn enough money to support us. He was the man who spent countless hours in the summer building houses so that we could learn the meaning of hard work. He was the man who was intelligent enough to have done anything in his life and yet he decided he would rather have children than wealth.

At that moment I was more confused than I have ever been in my life, I had no idea what to do and I felt a wall breaking. The wall of hatred that I had built against my father had sprung a leak and from that moment, although I still moved away, I have tried to learn to love my father.

Another revealing moment was in Croatia, coincidentally enough. My father had offered to pay for my tickets to travel to Europe with him, my step-mother, Natasha, and my two half siblings Ilya and Maria who were 5 and 3 respectively. I jumped at the opportunity even though it meant spending $300 on plane tickets to Kentucky and missing 2 ½ weeks of school, which can be detrimental in college. Little did I know what I was really getting myself into.

After a very stressful 24 hour commute from Nashville to Budapest, I was on the verge of killing my father. I had been put in charge of chasing little children through the airport and staying up with them almost the entire time. My father, on the other hand, is not exceptionally good with small children (which is odd considering how many of them he has had). While Natasha and I were irritated and fed up with this so called vacation, my dad had slept almost the entire time for both of the international plane rides we had been on. I began to realize how hard it had been for my mother raising 9 children with a husband like my father. He has a hard time relating to the hardships you are feeling and although he feels very sorry for you when you explain about how difficult it is, he doesn’t step in and help out. He is also more likely to let a kid run into the street than to sit on his lap and he can’t stand crying.

Needless to say, I was not feeling particularly inclined to be with him, however, when we reached day 4 and 5 of our trip we stopped at a pleasant city called Dubrovnik in the south of Croatia. This was affectionately called the “Jewel of Croatia” and as soon as we entered it we knew why. It was a beautiful ancient city encased in a pre-medieval castle on the coast and speckled with fruit trees and sailboats. Natasha and I quickly realized that this was no place for children as they spent the majority of their time running into tourists as they chased pigeons. In an effort to restore sanity and keep the children happy and occupied, Natasha and I traded shifts and while one was with the kids at our apartment the other would be out with my dad.

During this one on one time with my dad I asked him “Dad, why did you become a member of the church?” My father had grown up in a Catholic family where everyone back to our ancestors in Ireland had been Catholic. The strength of his testimony which he then bore and the story of his life which ensued made me marvel.

He told me about his ambitions when he first came to college and how he had met a lady who had included him into her family and through her he had joined the church. He told me about his first love and their engagement and how they had spent time with each other every day during the school year, but as the year came to a close her parents came to pick her up and when he went to see her she came down with a box of everything he had given her, handed it to him, and declared it was over.

He told me that he took the box and cried. He was so disoriented and heartbroken that he just wondered the streets crying until he finally collapsed and just continued to sob. He was finally picked up by an ambulance because a police officer tried to talk to him and he didn’t respond and he assumed the tear stains on his pants were from him wetting himself so he thought something had gone terribly wrong. I knew the heartbreak he told me about. I knew what it felt like to have love ripped out from underneath of you and to have the one person you felt truly connected to turn you away.

When he told me about joining the Navy because he didn’t want to get drafted, it was a world I could hardly imagine. His friends would get drafted and every day was just another chance that you too may leave never to return again. One of his best friends left for Vietnam and when he returned he was just a remnant of the man he had once been, returning with both legs and all of his spirit gone. He joined the Navy because they promised that he would never actually see battle, he instead became a nuclear weapons instructor and married my mother.

To retell all the stories he told me would take another evening and another Dubrovnik to do it justice. But it was then that I realized that somewhere, in some part of me, he was a hero. Transitioning from a villain to a hero is not an easy thing to do, but he had done it and although I still do not always understand him, I will always love my dad.

Autobiography 2: Fears

2009-07-29T09:52:00.000-07:00

Ichthyophobia:I have always had this odd fear of fish. I am not entirely certain why as I have never been attacked by a fish nor have I probably been within biting distance of a fish, however, their scales, their mouths, their lack of arms or feet, has always scared me. Give me a bug, give me a snake, give me a poopy baby and I will be fine, however, something about fish.

According to Wikipedia: "Ichthyophobia is a variety of a specific phobia which is an intense and persistent fear of fish, described in Psychology: An International Perspective as an "unusual" specific phobia. Both symptoms and remedies of ichthyophobia are common to most specific phobias."

Acrophobia: Although it sounds like being afraid of acrobatics, it is actually the fear of heights. Personally I have a devil-may-care attitude towards slightly risky behaviors (hanging out of windows, climbing random buildings, etc), however, I cannot stand to watch other people do things like this and I especially dislike seeing people get too near the edge of high objects. Once when we were in San Francisco, I went to the San Francisco Bay bridge with my friends Cami and Dave and my brother Josh and when Cami climbed on the rail I couldn't take it and started to feel sick. Of course this reaction only encouraged her and so I had to turn away and start running back towards the land where I couldn't see her. She didn't end up falling and I was definitely more effected than she was. I'm not sure what brings this on, however, my friend Kevin surmises it has something to do with my motherly instincts and the fact that when I see other people in potentially dangerous situations I feel like I have no control whereas when I am there I can control the situation.

Iatrophobia and Phonophobia –Although I don’t really have a fear of doctors or telephones, these two were the closest to the fear I feel towards calling doctor’s offices. I think this reverts back to my issues with control, but I will do pretty much anything to avoid having to call a doctor’s office (or any office) to set up an appointment. I once had my co-worker call to set up an appointment, just because I was so afraid. Doctors themselves are quite intriguing and once I’m in the office I really like looking at the various vaccination and disease posters. I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that I never went to the doctor growing up, my mom always gave us homeopathetics and a slew of vitamins whenever we would get sick. Although I was always dubious of this method of treatment, I always faithfully swallowed my 6 vitamin C, Echinacea, garlic, and mysterious green sugar covered Chinese pills. Once I started attending BYU though I decided that I would eat plenty of fruits and vegetables and get exercise and when I got sick I would rest and let my body take care of itself. This worked great until I wanted to go on a mission and I needed to call a doctor’s office to set up an appointment and for some reason, maybe because I had never done it before or for whatever reason

Porphyrophobia- This is the fear of the color purple. I actually do not have a fear of the color purple, I do, however, have a great dislike of artificially flavored purple items. I think part of this reason is that they try to imitate “grape” taste and I like grapes too much to think that this pathetic excuse for an imitation is actually good. This carries over mostly into otter pops and all candy. Although when it comes to candy I am usually very particular: i.e. I only eat skittles and M&Ms in matching pairs (red & green, blue & orange, etc), I only eat pink and red starbursts, I don’t eat most American chocolate because I am a chocolate snob and I like hazelnuts too much, etc. It’s not something that I have to do, it’s just the way I do things.

Autobiography 1: My hero, my brother, Jon

2009-07-29T09:32:00.000-07:00

In my family history class we are to write at least 5 autobiographical stories of 500 words and when I was trying to limit myself to 5 significant instances in my life, I can't help but think of the time with my brother Jon. I suppose I could talk about the numerous moves from state to state, the divorce, the flee, the heartbreaks, or any number of things, however, those things that have effected me most are the small instances where life really reveals itself.

As 7th child in a family of nine, I was often left to myself and in order to get attention I really had to try to either do things right or do things wrong. One week during our family home evening, I remember being very offended because my parents were honoring those who had done their chores that week and although I had laboriously fulfilled ever task given me, I was not mentioned. Expecting someone to notice my disappointment, I stormed out of the room in a huff and slinked into the kitchen.

In my 6 year old brain, I assumed that everyone around me could feel the injustice and would come running to me to console me. I was prepared to deny them all and I sat with arms crossed under the kitchen table waiting for them to beg my forgiveness. As time passed, I realized that once again I had gone unnoticed and that no one was coming for me. Reality that no one had probably even noticed that I had left or that I was upset began to seep in on me and I began to cry. I sunk my head and began to sob quietly to myself, becoming so absorbed in my feelings of depression and disappointment that I was oblivious to my brother Jon who had snuck into the kitchen carrying a CD player.

Jon is two years my senior and had always been my idol. He could do things that only boys can do and every time we wrestled he seems to out maneuver me and win. Jon could climb trees and had friends everywhere, but always seemed to consider me as more of a pest than a sister. So as he plugged in the CD player and began playing church music it was a bit of a shock. Not enough of a shock to make me look at him directly, but just enough to cause me to notice him. Next he went to the fridge and pulled out a packet of sliced meat.

If you have never lived in a large family with a small budget, you have never learned to really appreciate food. In our house commodities like fruit, vegetables, and pre-sliced meat were usually devoured within minutes of their arrival from the grocery store and if you had any hope of salvaging an apple you would have to hide it under your pillow and hope no one found your secret stash. So, as you can understand, it was surprising that he had found this jewel and without a word he opened it up, sat it between us, and then just sat there next to me. If he had tried to talk me out of my sadness or tried to surround me with his arms, I probably would have brushed him off and given myself more justification for my feelings. However, this simple act of love, showing that he was there and that he cared, caused my to feel infitestimaly better. Soon my sobs turned into sniffles and my tears stopped flowing.

But the most touching part of it all is that when I was done I looked over at him and he was crying. This act of unselfish love, of knowing exactly what I needed, and somehow being able to take my tears upon himself, that has stuck with me. Whenever I think of Christ as a brother, I think of Jon in that moment. Christ's willingness to sacrifice himself for our happiness and his ability to love us was more real to me in that moment than it ever had been before and will always stay with me.

I want babies

2009-07-28T01:16:00.000-07:00

Lately I have been baby hungry, thanks to lovely little children like this.

I look at their little eyes and hands and feet and I just can't help but love them instantly. It's funny how children can have that effect on us, isn't it? Something about their small features, their helplessness and their ability to cling to anything or anyone. Maybe it is just the joy they find in life and in the simple things, new discoveries await them at every turn.

I probably just need to babysit and it will get it all out of my system for a little bit, but until then, I WANT A BABY!
Speaking of families, I have been working on mine and putting together my family line using new.familysearch.org, it is an amazing tool and it helps you link everyone together, which is really neat. The more family history I do, the more I want to do. I think I will be gathering my sister Sara's information from her soon and then hopefully verifying all this information that comes from who knows where.

Wedding Flowers

2009-07-24T01:41:00.000-07:00

For Cami's wedding I got to work with all the flowers to make corsages, boutonnieres, bouquets, and centerpieces. I already posted what the wedding bouquet looks like and then it was just a basic rose/petal bout. The centerpieces were fun, they were Cami's brain child, but ended up being very simple, elegant, and beautiful. It was just a few roses in a vase with some river stones. These vases were then placed on top of a mirror, doily, and a piece of scrap booking paper. Voila, beautiful.

Wedding Cakes

2009-07-23T01:46:00.000-07:00

With all my work with fondant, I have had a lot of fun making cakes like this one for Cami's wedding. Here we just have a basic double layer 9" circumference chocolate cake covered in my wonderfully simple marshmallow fondant recipe that I borrowed from my sister Susan. At the bottom you see the double ribbon which adds a hint of color and texture. Then, of course, there is the cake topper with the love birds and some beautiful roses and mint flavored decoration balls.

Here you see the cupcake tree, decorated by Cami's cousins and the cupcakes created the night before with the help of Carin, it takes a while to make the frosting and considering how much we put on each cupcake, it took a very long time, however, it worked out well and looked Be-a-u-tiful.

Marshmallow Fondant Recipe (by Manny Ramirez)

16 ounces white mini marshmallows (use a good quality brand)
2-5 tablespoons water
2 lbs icing sugar (please use C&H Cane Powdered Sugar for the best results)
1/2 cup Crisco shortening (you will be digging into it so place in a very easily accessed bowl)

1. Melt marshmallows and 2 tablespoons of water in a microwave or double boiler: Put the bowl in the microwave for 30 seconds, open microwave and stir, back in microwave for 30 seconds more, open microwave and stir again, and continue doing this until melted.

2. It usually takes about 2 ½ minutes total. Place 3/4 of the powdered sugar on the top of the melted marshmallow mix.

3. Now grease your hands GENEROUSLY - palms, backs and in between fingers, then heavily grease the counter you will be using and dump the bowl of marshmallow/sugar mixture in the middle.

4. Start kneading like you would bread dough. You will immediately see why you have greased your hands.

5. Keep kneading, this stuff is sticky at this stage! Add the rest of the powdered sugar and knead some more.

6. Re-grease your hands and counter when the fondant is sticking. If the mix is tearing easily, it is to dry, so add water (about ½ tablespoon at a time then knead it in). It usually takes me about 8 minutes to get a firm smooth elastic ball so that it will stretch without tearing when you apply it to the cake.

7. Its best if you can let it sit, double wrapped, overnight (but you can use it right away if there are no tiny bits of dry powdered sugar). If you do see them, you will need to knead and maybe add a few more drops of water.

The Wedding Planner

2009-07-22T07:03:00.000-07:00

My friend Cami got married last week in the Draper temple and I helped with... pretty much everything. It was a lot of fun though to decorate cupcakes for the cupcake tree, put together the fondant cake and arrange plenty of flowers.

The happy couple looking hopefully into the future.

First kisses! Well, not exactly, but you have to have the veil photo.

The happy family. Notice the redhead on the far left, refused to smile. Oh well, what can you do?

Here you can see some of the preparations for the reception that Carin and I (along with a few others) participated in. 10 flower arrangements, 190 cupcakes, 200 cucumber sandwiches, corsages, boutonnieres, bouquets, etc.

It was wonderful and I am so happy for Cami. I love her and Dave and I know that they will live a long happy life together.

In the Morning Sun we Glisten

2009-07-21T13:31:00.000-07:00

I have a love hate relationship with the box elder bugs. I hate when they fly past my ears. I hate when I find them crawling on my bed. I don't like to share my kitchen with them. I can't stand to find their dead bodies in my water cup and I hate the thought that they are always there, always watching.

But they remind me of this place. I can't think of the past year and a half without them. Loves come. Loves go. Best friends bond then marry. The grass grows, then dies (we never remember to water it). Even as the furniture, trees, and garden change, those bugs are constant. There isn't a day that I don't see one scurrying in one direction or another and although it irks me, it is that one constant in my life of the past year and a half that I can't ignore. It reminds me of the cycle of life.

Starting a new. Running. Falling.

Starting a new.

And when I can't take it any more, when all my memories crowd my mind and all my pasts threaten to become my present and my future, then I retreat to the basics. The shoes, the street, running. The bugs. They are always there.

You can always count on the box elders.

Alstroemeria

2009-07-14T12:14:00.001-07:00

I love flowers. When I was young I thought it was silly to grow flowers, why would you spend so much time, effort, and garden space on things that you can't eat. Why not plant just vegetables, berries, and delicious fruit? That all changed when I started to take my floral design class and I realized the powerful effect of flowers. One of my new favorite flowers is the Alstroemeria. Alstroemeria, also known as the Peruvian lily or Lily of the Inca's, has a vase life of about two weeks and makes it equitable in vase life to that of a carnation. And yet it is just so much more unique than a carnation (and just as cheap). It is like they are always looking at your with their exotic faces, enticing you to visit the lures of South America.

It also reminds me of Juan, because it is Peruvian. Even though Wikipedia states that these gorgeous flowers are grown in Chile and Brazil almost exclusively, we all know that Peru once covered almost half of South America and so the name is still appropriate.

Speaking of, Kevin knew that it was one of my favorites and bought me an entire bouquet which I was able to use to make this gorgeous arrangement.

And while I was practicing using the floral tape and wire for Cami's wedding, I made a neat little boutonniere with one of the flowers. I thought the orange, black, and green made a stark contrast that was absolutely irresistible. What do you think?

Garden Fresh

2009-07-13T14:14:00.000-07:00

Anna and I went to take sister pictures after I threw together a practice boutineer for Cami to look at. I was feeling particularly cute looking and I couldn't keep it to myself, so here are some of the results.

Here you see a beautiful girl smelling a beautiful flower.

Anna is a cutie pie with a flower hat.

We are dating.

We hold hands.

Stick it to the man--- but not really

2009-07-08T15:13:00.000-07:00

I had a great idea while in the loo today. As I sat down I saw a newspaper, on the ground, and I read it. And I realized, there should be newspapers in every bathroom stall. The Daily Universe has a super low readership, but I think this would get people's attention. Except, asking the Daily Universe to install newspaper holders in every stall is ridiculous, I still think it is possible.

It's a grassroots movement. BYU students love doing things that seem somewhat "contraband" and we would just be leaving newspapers under the bathroom stalls and then passing it on. Now for a witty name...

Biting in the middle of the night

2009-06-30T09:09:00.000-07:00

My room mate, Cami, recently pulled me into our room in order to show me some creepy crawlies on her bed. I have never had bed bugs before and I'm not sure if they have infested my half of the room yet, but I know that once upon a time Juan had them. Poor Juan. He had little red buggies crawling all over the place and they didn't even pay their half the of the rent. His landlords changed the mattresses, but since they didn't actually spray everything then there were still creepies crawling inconspicuously all over the place.

This reoccurring event makes me think on the topic of cohabitation in general. The art of living with others. I am in a microbiology class right now and we talk endless of microorganisms which are everywhere, but we can't see them. I once had a friend like that, his name was Carlos and he would sleep on everyone's couch, except he was quit visible and audible.

Generally speaking, I enjoy living with others. I come from a family of nine children (there have since been additions, but I haven't ever lived with them, so for the purposes of emphasizing my point, we won't discuss them). I remember growing up and never being alone. Even if there weren't any siblings around (a rare occurrence) there were neighborhood children or friends roaming about. I never ran out of playmates and I never avoided being constantly teased. I had a friend who was an only child and I never understood what that would be like. If you didn't have siblings you would actually have to make an effort to make friends.

We were also a very touchy lot, which is good, because I think that is how I feel love. According to the "Languages of Love" I receive love through touch and time. So my family was perfect for me, we gave massages, we slept together, even just sitting around on the couch we were usually touching. This is why I one day want to have children and lots of them. I miss having my family around and having people to hold all the time.

Cohabitation, count me in.

Edible Flowers

2009-06-27T01:18:00.000-07:00

While I was in my floral design class, I watched my teacher put together an arrangement with flowers, floral foam, and food. I was really excited to try this on my own, however, I don't have many occasions that would really call for it. So as soon as I saw veggie tray sign ups for my work party, I jumped on the idea and began planning. And the result was:

This piece of art required very little work and only:

one head of red cabbage
serving platter (I borrowed a nice porcelain one from my sister, chances are you wont be seeing it, so you don't have to worry too much about appearance)
dip dish (I used a neat brown glass bowl I found in my house)
various chopped vegetables/fruit of your choosing
flowers (I cut some from the BYU gardens and after washing them in warm water I refrigerated them up until I arranged them. This helps for freshness and to kill any small bugs)

Once you have everything, tear off cabbage leaves and try to keep them intact as much as possible as these will be the basis of your veggie holders and to help separate flowers from the food itself. Next place your dip bowl, leaves, and vegetables onto the tray in whatever arrangement you like. Finally, cut the stems on your flowers and arrange them between cabbage and plate. Voila, you have a masterpiece.

Garden Fresh

2009-06-26T05:32:00.000-07:00

In my floral design class we talked a little bit about preparing flowers fresh from your garden. Using these principles, I went out early yesterday morning and picked some fresh roses for a simple cube design. To kill the aphids, I filled a sink with warm soapy water and immersed the flower heads. I then cut the stems and placed them in flower food:

Flower food is important because it contains sugar, citric acid, and a biocide which all help to feed the plant and keep the water clean from harmful bacteria. In case you don't have any pre-made flower food, you can always use a little bit of listerine or lemon lime soda as a substitute.

Once you have all your roses, you can arrange and enjoy. One great thing about home grown roses is that they are much more fragrant than the roses you purchase from a store. I was absolutely intoxicated by this arrangement, even though it didn't last near as long.

Ears are ringing

2009-06-25T03:30:00.000-07:00

I have always had an avid love of earrings and I was reminded of this the other day when looking through my earring cemetery. What, you ask, is an earring cemetery? Throughout the course of my life I have gone through a lot of earrings, which usually get lost. Except, like socks, you rarely lose a pair, instead you will lose one earring and just have to find a new match. It is a graveyard of the missing, mismatched, and broken:

I also have an interesting philosophy on matching, I have never been too observant on the rule that in order to match you need to have two identical items. Instead, in socks and earrings, I have always held the belief that you match things with the most similar item you have. I.e. if you have two socks that are similar material and design (they are both solid colored) and sometimes even if they are the same cut, then they obviously match. Others feel this is a little off, but in the end, I have more character in my socks and their socks go completely unnoticed.

With earrings I have a similar matching technique and I have no qualms modifying my earrings, removing backs, re-attaching backs or switching backs from earring to earring. This is another reason why I keep all of my old earrings.

I also like my earrings because all of them have a story. I have a green pair from Croatia, a yellow pair from San Jose California, a mismatched white pair that I found on the side walk, a pair from DI that are constantly debated as being either eggplants, aliens, or weird Christmas decorations and many more. Some of my more favorite earrings recently have been:

Daejeon, South Korea

2009-06-24T14:21:00.000-07:00

While in class this afternoon I called my mom to have her check her mail (where my call was being sent) and found out that I am going to.

Drum roll please.

Daejeon, South Korea!

I thought it was a very random assignment, I have no connection with anywhere in Asia. And then I started thinking about something someone told me how the first presidency matches up missionaries with the mission presidents more than the location. So I googled it and found out the the mission president's wife actually keeps a blog. Serves me right I suppose for putting blogging on my hobby list.

If you have any words of advice on how I am supposed to learn Korean, they would be greatly appreciated. I enter the MTC on September 23, 2009 so anytime before then would be great.

I'm going, going, GONE

2009-06-21T10:25:00.000-07:00

This morning after thinking about things, I got really excited. I am going on a mission. A Mission.
My papers are in. My call has been assigned and should arrive some time this week, hopefully on Wednesday. So currently I am taking bets on where people think I will go. Since I think facebook groups are obnoxious, I just asked all my co-workers and a couple of friends for guesses and received the following answers:

Venezuela
Great Britain
Armenia
State side, south west, possibly Texas
Iberian peninsula
Norway
Guatemala
Brazil
Colorado Denver South
Canada
Portland, OR
Argentina, Buenos Aires South
Czech Republic
Eastern Europe
Germany
Japan
Ireland

If you'd like to make a guess, feel free.

Birthdays and Things

2009-06-17T16:41:00.000-07:00

In order to practice for Cami's wedding cake, as well as to celebrate my roommate's boyfriend's birthday, their 5 month-a-versary, my Relief Society President's birthday, and the end of Spring term, I decided to make a cake. As you can tell, it was very multi-purpose and allowed me to try out making marshmallow fondant which I have used before, but never actually created myself.

Here you see the fondant being placed on top.

Smoothing out the fondant covering.

Anna "decorating"

the finished product, isn't it beautiful?!

I wont let it rain on my parade

2009-06-15T13:23:00.000-07:00

I love rain, I think that growing up in Kentucky made me somewhat aquatic (even though I am also deathly afraid of fish). Rain in Kentucky is much different from rain in Utah. I used to love playing in the rain in Kentucky and would frequently go for romps through my neighborhood, splashing in puddles, becoming thoroughly drenched, and sometimes just laying down in the grass and mud. It was warm, familiar, and refreshing. It brings flowers, daffodils, tornadoes, and all sorts of pleasant things.

Utah rain is different.

I realized this from the first rain storm that occurred when I got to Utah. Unlike the bi-weekly rain storms that occur in Kentucky, Utah does not receive much rain. However, I still had my hopes up for the first rain storm and they were quickly dashed. In fact, I went running outside as I hadn't seen rain in weeks and I was immediately pelted with large globular water pellets. In fact, this rain wasn't just being hurled from the sky at insanely high speeds, it was COLD and quite unpleasant. I stayed outside for approximately half a minute before I couldn't take it any longer and I went back inside, letting my high hopes get washed away in the rain.

But I still love Utah. And the rain still brings beautiful things, I just don't go out in it.

Great day for a white wedding

2009-06-14T12:39:00.000-07:00

Cami decided that she wanted me to do her flowers and since she wanted fake flowers for their longevity and inexpensiveness, it was easy to do and we have them already done even though her wedding isn't for another month. Although they don't smell as fresh as real flowers, they don't look half bad either, you probably can't even tell, can you?

Floral fun

2009-06-13T10:24:00.000-07:00

For my floral design class we created these neat bridesmaid bouquets using the Dutch spiral method. Mine ended up more one sided than round, mostly because of the fact that I didn't really have time to spend on it (I had ten minutes before I had to run to work). I also had some random wax flower that I didn't know what to do with.

Once I got home I converted it into a small arrangement in a glass vase which made me want to take my cube design from last week and rearrange it.

Mostly all the roses had died so I needed to take out all of those and just keeep the daisymum. As you can see here, it actually turned out alright and Kevin and I gave it to his family. I really just didn't know what I was going to do with all these flowers and I thought they might like them. In the end, I probably just ended up looking creepy.

Vegetarian Junkies

2009-06-12T12:27:00.001-07:00

My lovely sister is moving in with me tomorrow. I have been anticipating this for a very long time and I have been planning my summer activities around having this little bundle of joy in it. Needless to say, I have been very anxious for her to get here.

Only now I want to show her the ways of the world, to be there for her to show her budgeting, taxes, grocery shopping, setting up a schedule, getting a job, learning to live on your own, paying rent and utilities. All of this wisdom that I basically had to learn on my own, I want to be able to show her so she can get a head start and not feel abandoned when I leave her for my mission.

So I thought we could start it off right by buying groceries together this summer. Except Anna is a vegetarian and a lot of the things I cook include meat. So I suppose this summer I will be spending a lot of time learning fun vegetarian meals! How exciting, I love to cook.

And then the rain came tumbling down

2009-06-11T14:32:00.000-07:00

Alternate blog entry titles could include:

*Just when we thought it couldn't get worse

*What's the point in trying any more?

*Reasons to carry an umbrella

*When it rains, it pours

*Singing in the rain

*You know the rain wont stop, stop complaining about it

*Being wet isn't as bad as it looks
*Part of the reason I changed my shirt three times today
*I'm not crying

*And it didn't stop until I got home
*How my golf class was canceled
*Good thing I wasn't carrying anything important in that backpack

Conlalutions

2009-06-10T08:20:00.000-07:00

While looking at wrecked cakes, failed conversations, and other random failures, I remembered that they have awards for these kinds of things. I am glad that people do these things so I can laugh so frequently.

Favorite Darwin Award of the day

Adelir Antonio, 51, was a Catholic priest attempting to pay homage to Lawn Chair Larry’s aerial adventure.

His audacious attempt to set a world record for clustered balloon flight was intended to publicize his plan to build a spiritual rest stop for truckers. But, as truckers know, sitting for 19 hours in a lawn chair is not a trivial matter even in the comfort of your own backyard. The priest took numerous safety precautions, including wearing a survival suit, selecting a buoyant chair, and packing a satellite phone and a GPS. However, the late Adelir Antonio made a fatal mistake.

He did not know how to use the GPS.

The winds changed, as winds do, and he was blown inexorably toward open sea. He could have parachuted to safety while over land, but chose not to. When the voyager was perilously lost at sea, he prudently phoned for help--but rescuers were unable to determine his location, since he could not use his GPS. He struggled with the unit as the charge on the satellite phone dwindled.

Instead of a GPS, the priest let God be his guide, and God guided him straight to heaven. Bits of balloons began appearing on mountains and beaches. Ultimately the priest's body surfaced, confirming that he, like Elvis, had left the building.

The kicker? It's a Double Darwin. Catholic priests take vows of celibacy. Since they voluntarily remove themselves from the gene pool, the entire group earns a mass Darwin Award. Adelir Antonio wins twice over!

Failures

2009-06-08T08:17:00.000-07:00

Last night I failed to go to bed when I had hoped. In fact, I failed at a few things and then this morning my cognitive skills have been severely lacking. Sometimes things happen and they just aren't what you had planned in your head. Thankfully, there is an entire blog dedicated to this kind of thing.

...And Zombies

2009-06-08T07:59:00.001-07:00

While standing in line at Smith's, my room mate discovered a new version of Pride & Prejudice. Always eager to embrace anything Jane Austen, she examined it closer and saw this:

Pride & Prejudice AND ZOMBIES

Disturbing, yes, but it gets better. During our Sunday family time, we went online to read book reviews since the New York Times had apparently raved over it, one of my favorite reviews includes:

"I've always said the problem with Jane Austen's novels is that there simply aren't enough zombies."

We also stumbled upon a hilarious rendition of the plot summary on Wikipedia. Although I don't think I could stomach the slaughtering of one of my favorite masterpieces, I did laugh uproariously while reading the Wiki version and this was probably one of my favorite paragraphs:

"Elizabeth Bennet and her four sisters live on a countryside estate with their parents. Mr. Bennet trains his daughters in martial arts and weapons, molding them into a fearsome zombie-fighting army. On the other hand, Mrs. Bennet plans to marry the girls off to wealthy suitors. When the wealthy Mr. Bingley purchases a nearby county house, Mrs. Bennet spies an opportunity and sends the girls to the first ball where Bingley is expected to appear. The girls defend the party from a zombie attack, and Mr. Bingley and eldest daughter Jane begin a relationship. Elizabeth, meanwhile, spars with the haughty monster-hunter Fitzwilliam Darcy, a friend of Bingley. Although Elizabeth and Darcy strongly dislike each other at first, their common interest of zombie-killing draws them closer together."

In the end, you really just can't go wrong by adding zombies to a literary masterpiece. If anyone reads this trashter-piece, you will have to give me further reviews.

Passive Aggressive

2009-06-05T11:55:00.000-07:00

I was planning on sharing a website that has caused much laughter lately, passiveaggressivenotes.com, and then I came home last night and found a passive aggressive note from my landlady. To lead up to this note, it may be mentioned that this is NOT the first time that she has had problems (although in the past it is usually watering the grass, parking our bikes on the sidewalk as it is the only place that there was room) and instead of just addressing it with us, has left us a note. They are always very similar, very accusatory without being specific so that we all feel to blame, even though none of us really know what she is talking about and yet without any previous notice that there was any problem. This particular note she left all of my room mates were confused as to who it could possibly refer to and instead we just felt accused as if we were being called "unvirtuous women" and practically thought to live in Sodom and Gommorah.

I would take a picture, but my camera is not working so instead I will copy it, as it was originally typed up, printed off and posted in 5 different locations around our house anyway:

Tenant Notice

I have had complaints about a tenant in this apartment who is leaving the window open and making a display of herself in the nude. This is not okay and you will have your contract cancelled and be asked to leave if you continue to do so. BYU will also be notified if the behavior continues. Draperies serve a purpose and we expect you to behave according to the standards of the church and BYU as a moral woman. I do not want to be called this again and I will remind you all there are to be no boys in the bedrooms at all.

The Cube

2009-06-05T08:20:00.001-07:00

Here we have the classic 4" cube in which you lace flower stems in order to create a neat globular, flower filled effect which works great for centerpieces at weddings or other events that need that sort of thing. Fun and easy to make.

Bake a Cake for Baby and Me

2009-06-02T15:16:00.000-07:00

My recent love in cake decorating has led me to looking up cakes more than usual. In my cake journeys I discovered a blog set up entirely to discuss cakes.

Again, how did I live without this? Take a look.

Cha Cha Cha

2009-06-02T06:07:00.000-07:00

Since I came to college I haven't listened to music as much as I used to, for some reason I had all sorts of time in High School that I don't really have any more. Or maybe it was desire, however, while perusing imeem the other day I discovered a few songs that I really enjoy, I have embedded them for your listening pleasure.

Cha Cha Cha - The Little Ones
When I was little I would always listen to music on the drive to and from seminary. Since it was a half hour trip to seminary and then a one hour drive to school, there was plenty of time for Jonny to pop in his newly burned discs of Magnetic Fields, Modest Mouse, Nuetral Milk Hotel, Death Cab for Cutie, and many other bands that became the staple for my music diet. I still love all of these bands, but there is just so much music in the world, how do you listen to it all?

Dream catch me - Newton Faulkner

I remember when I realized that Jonny was going to be gone. It was one morning on the way from seminary to school and in the early morning there was fog surrounding the car and something soothing was playing, maybe Magnetic Fields, and suddenly it hit me. Jonny would be gone soon. He was going to college and then on a mission and nothing would ever be the same. I wouldn't have him begging me for back massages, I wouldn't have to push the car to start every morning. Late night conversations about life would have to happen with someone else. My idol would be leaving and I wouldn't. I watched him drive and I cried. The silent type of crying when you feel so overwhelmed that you don't have the strength to sob. To console myself I rolled down the window, closed my eyes, and tried to focus on the music.

A Thousand Wishes in less than 1,000 Words

2009-06-01T08:35:00.000-07:00

Shooting stars
dandelions
yellow lights, tunnels, birthday candles,
water fountains, spare change

Let there always be time to
smell the roses
Because in the end all I could give her were roses

Swing sets, strollers, diaper bags
Were the dreams of Caroline.
And she’d give them names, watch them grow and even get sad to watch them go
She never got angry or upset or dreary
Instead she pursed her lips then smiled quite sadly and said,
“What do I care, I already have plenty of children.”

All I could give her were the roses.

Word Scrabble

2009-05-29T07:04:00.000-07:00

My friend, Kevin, came up with this game called Word Scrabble, I know it sounds redundant because scrabble is already a word game, however, it differs in the fact that don't actually have a board. Instead, in a conversation when you hear someone say something you just add onto their statement.

Sound confusing? Take a look at a couple of example conversations:

Me: my brother lives in the ghetto. Ghetto.

Kevin: Ge-tofu

Speaking of long engagements
Candace: I had a friend had to wait two years to get married because they had to wait for him to get --
Rebecca: off his mission

Sometimes you don't even have to be part of the conversation to join it, try it next time you are with a group of friends or just walking past talking people.

Fake Flowers

2009-05-28T12:36:00.001-07:00

In my floral design class we have to do a fake floral arrangement. I usually don't like fake flowers because... well, they aren't real and no one likes a phony. However, my mom doesn't mind fake flowers and so she commissioned me to make something in one of her random buckets for her kitchen (or at least, I assume that is where its eventual destination will be). It was actually kind of fun trying to find only white and green fake flowers and the arranging itself only took 15 minutes tops.

For the last week of my cake decorating class, we worked on another type of fake flower, the Wilton rose. After 20 or so trials, I finally was able to get a couple that were semi-decent and which

I didn't mind putting on the cake that I needed to make for work. These roses, although they are not real are just as great and much more edible than those from your garden. My room mate, whose wedding cake I will be doing in July, even proposed that I try to do these on her cake. If I can get better, why not.

Mission Frenzy

2009-05-27T07:46:00.000-07:00

I have always had a desire to serve a mission, from the time I was in primary and my teachers would ask "Now how many of you are planning on serving a mission?" up until now, when it is much more logistical. Initially I think I wanted to because I knew that all the boys were expected to and no one would ever think that I should do it. Maybe it was because I thought it was prejudice that boys were pushed to serve, but girls were hardly ever mentioned. In fact, in discussing this with my father, one of the first things he asked is why. Why would I want to serve a mission?

There are a lot of reasons, as he explained and I knew, and there are a lot of other options in my life. I could finish school, I could really throw myself into dating, find a man and settle down. If I wanted to learn another language, I could simply take a class and then go on a study abroad. I could start working or join the peace corps, I could still serve no matter what I chose. And yet, I still want to go on a mission, a full-time mission for the LDS church.

I'm not entirely certain I can answer that "why" question, but I'm working on it. It has something to do with a desire within that I can't quite squelch otherwise. It has something to do with the power of the atonement and change. I have felt changed by love and I have felt progression and improvement through the gospel and if I can bring even an iota of that knowledge to someone else, then I will feel satisfied.

So now I am one step closer to turning in my papers, I just need to meet with my Stake President the Sunday after this one and then he will submit them. Afterward I will wait a couple of weeks and probably be assigned a mission on June 18 so that I can receive my call sometime in late June. It's funny, because a couple of years ago this time seemed so distant that it was almost unimaginable and now it is so close I can almost taste it.

Lost Vegan

2009-05-26T10:33:00.000-07:00

I went to visit my sister Susan in Vegas this weekend. It was great. Here you see her youngest, Eliza, who has large cheeks and the babiest eyes I've ever seen.

Amelia Bedoo really enjoyed the corsages I made.

Susan even enjoyed them and although we didn't wear them to church, we wore them at her house. It was also really interesting because Susan has decided to eat primarily raw foods in her diet and she had a plethera of delicious fresh fruits and vegetables for me to eat.

Hutch actually requested to wear this daisymum ear piece.

This gorgeous polka-dot cake was fun to make, even though Susan and I spent almost all of Saturday working on it. I have confidence in fondant now.

Put a Bout in it

2009-05-22T04:00:00.000-07:00

Floral Design has again amazed me with the wonderful skills it has endowed me with. This week we worked on boutonnieres which are impossible to spell but easy to create-- with these under my belt I can bout up any prom or wedding! There were some definitely cute ideas. See the ear flower above, this are cute options for bridesmaids, or even just for every day.

Calla lilies are gorgeous and can be made to look very elegant.

The classic rose.
And finally we have one of my favorites, the more carefree wildflower corsage which is a real joy to make and to wear.

Penguins

2009-05-21T09:22:00.000-07:00

I have a friend who happens to be a musical genius and so this week's cake was a dedication to his Penguin song. If I can get it from him, maybe I will embed it here for your listening pleasure. It was really fun to make though and I think it means that I am getting to be a a master cake decorater. The only problem is, I could be a lot better if I ever decided to take the time in it.

Prickly legs

2009-05-20T05:55:00.000-07:00

Juan really loved soccer. He was from Peru, so I suppose it was a mandatory thing, something that I knew was more than a love-- it was culture, it was ingrained in his soul and it came as easily as his ability to love at all. I, on the other hand, did not grow up playing soccer. So I decided to learn, to love, and to grin and bear it.

Good theory eh?

I joined his intramural soccer team, stood on the side lines and even got thrown in from time to time only to discover that I wasn't even as good as I had thought I was. Our team still won the tournament, even when I didn't play the last three games and I felt happy for Juan. But I still didn't know how to play soccer any better than I did before. So starting Spring term I joined yet another soccer team with one of my co-workers. I haven't gotten particularly better, however, the team is slightly more desperate so I am required to play the entire 40 minutes without any substitutes resulting in me becoming more comfortable on the field and avoiding the ball.

In all seriousness, I like soccer. I just wish I had some inherent ability to handle the ball and to make sweet goals. And, as far as progress is concerned, I have been practicing once a week in between games with my coworker and some of his friends, just last night we played around a little bit which means that I at least feel somewhat more comfortable with the ball.

And who knows. One day you may even see me on TV.

The Every Day Model

2009-05-17T12:03:00.000-07:00

After I chopped off my hair to donate to poor cancer victims, I decided to create an album about the "every day model" with me doing every day activities as a model.

The every day model washes dishes reflectively, she must always be concerned of cleanliness not only of her self, but everything around her.

She must also choose nutritious foods and be careful of what she eats.

The every day model must keep up her vocabularly by reading daily.

The every day model must work on her appearance to look her best every day.

Good dental hygeine is a must.

As is good general hygeine.

And at the end of the day, the every day model must relax and de-stress.

Adventures continued

2009-05-15T09:46:00.000-07:00

Here are my latest creations in the floral and cake industry, remember, I'm still just learning.

This is my cake, I could have done a nice little border around the bottom so that it didn't look so splotchy, but I was trying to be fast, so it got left behind. I also did not send it to Juan, but instead had everyone eat some at my work training meeting.

I also made this great garden floral arrangement with floral foam and gave it to my sister, Sara. I think she really enjoyed it and I had a lot of fun making it as well.

I will never be bored again

2009-05-13T09:18:00.000-07:00

Today while at work, productively accomplishing homework and work projects, my co-worker showed me a website that I'm not quite sure how I lived without. Check out: awkwardfamilyphotos.com

Here is a little preview.

Adventures in Learning

2009-05-11T10:40:00.000-07:00

Here you can see the cupcakes that I meant to send to Juan. I ended up not making it to the UPS store before they closed, so instead they were eaten. I will probably make another batch before too long though.

To the right you can see my mom and the flowers that I arranged for her in my floral design class.

Lastly we have more cake decorating skills in the making.

Conclusion: Cakes, flowers, mothers, and missionaries make for a great summer.

Progress

2009-05-06T10:31:00.000-07:00

I can now open my mouth and eat. I love food.

Wisdom

2009-05-01T08:07:00.000-07:00

I am getting my wisdom teeth removed this afternoon. I think I am psyching myself out too much though from stories of it going terribly terribly wrong, like my sister who reacted to the anesthesia and couldn't stop puking for a couple days to the friend who ended up in a coma for an extra hour or so. Crazy, eh?

Hopefully though when they are out I can smile and go on a mission.

Dark Was the Night

2009-04-22T15:46:00.001-07:00

Dark was the night-- great musical compilation of artists and songs-- also a great idea for my next book.

I think it will probably begin with 20 pages of random sheet music along with a quote about night time, which, appropriately, I will create and attribute to Mark Twain.

The rest of the book will be written in invisible, glow-in-the-dark ink so you have to read it in the dark. (This is vaguely reminiscent of school-girl days when my sister and I would set up elaborate hunts for each other that included deciphering clues that were often time written with candles or white crayons and that you had to color over with a marker to read).

Plot soon to come.

And your lucky number is....

2009-04-10T14:26:00.000-07:00

When I was younger my dad had a contest. Except you didn't have to excel or even do much of anything. One evening while I was sitting around the dinner table with my family, my dad happened to pull out some prize or another, if I remember correctly, it was a yogurt.

Unless you've been in a large family, you may not appreciated the significance of your dad being home, eating dinner with you, an bringing yogurt-- with fruit.

Asking each of us to guess a number one through 20, my dad went around the table to see who was the closest to his number and who would win. Coincidentally, my dad's favorite number is 4, the same number that I picked. And ever since that day, 4 has been my favorite number.

Other than that, I'm not really sure what it is about 4 that gets my blood going, maybe past memories of my father and other things I learned about him, completely on accident. Maybe it is the perfection of how four has 4 letters and is the perfect reflection of the word and what it means, just in the word itself.

Or maybe I just like it.

Island Fever

2009-04-04T15:32:00.000-07:00

While listening to someone during an evening of "culture" and Mongolians, the presenter talked about how once he was on an island, he served there. In the mornings he would run around the entire 4 mile radius of the island and he mentioned that to say that people get island fever is a bit crazy, because in our day to day lives how far do we go?

But today I have it.

Do you ever feel that? A need to leave, to get out, to be someone else, to listen to music that you never have, to meet people you probably never will. Some days you just have to put your running shoes on. Some days you have to feel the cold snow on your neck-- to feel real-- to feel and to be.

Another evening spent in my basement living room, another four hours wasted, another, another, all I want is some other.

And all we can do is keep breathing.

Planning is an art

2009-03-30T14:44:00.000-07:00

I've been planning my wedding for years. Three to be exact. I have discussed marriage with not only every person I have dated but most people I have come into contact with. It's not a scary thing and I don't consider it rushing things just to want to know people's opinions. In fact, I think it is just another way to get to know people.

If you need someone to help you plan, call me up, I'd be happy to help.

Depths of Despair

2009-03-28T10:23:00.000-07:00

Wednesday night I started to spiral into sickness so that Thursday and Friday I had no desire to move as my head ached, my throat hurt, my eyes only wanted to be pasted shut, and I couldn't breath from my nose. This morning I still feel pretty sick, but as, again, I am the only one home, I decided to have a dance party and run around in my skivvies.

There is something so liberating about not wearing clothing.

And I think that's the difference between married and single people, when you're married you have so many responsibilities, so many things that you worry about. I have nothing. I am not worried, I am just myself, running around naked in my basement apartment.

I did happen to find the blog of my first real boyfriend though. Mostly it is maintained by his beautiful wife. He looks happy in all the pictures and it sounds like he is doing what he wanted to-- getting ready for Medical school so that he can be a radiologist, married to a gorgeous woman who is actually starting her own spa. But how often does he get to kiss a Peruvian, skip work because he's coughing up a lung, or run around naked dancing to Nigerian hip hop?

Immortality

2009-03-25T17:19:00.000-07:00

My dad has always been a rock. Although this makes it hard to talk to him sometimes and often it causes family tiffs, he is always there. Daddy has always run around from place to place, working on projects from houses to computer software businesses, not even stopping his progressing family as he has 11 children and one due in May (ranging from 34-0 years of age).

And even though I could never talk to my dad about my feelings, there wasn't anything that I couldn't ask for his advice about, from toilets to cars to computers.

The last time that he was in Utah was only a couple of weeks ago for my brother's wedding. My neice Elise asked him "Grandpa, when are you going to die?"

to which he replied "Never. I'm planning to live for at least another 20 years."

My sister Sara and I looked at each other dubiously, he is very stalwart and brave, but it seems a bit foolish to say that you are never going to die.

But who would have thought that it would have been such a foreshadowing conversation.

As I sat down for class tonight I received an email from my step mom annnouncing that she just wanted to let us all know that my dad was in the hospital because he had lost a lot of blood from internal bleeding. He was in Las Angeles for a business conference and was supposed to present, I only know because I called him yesterday afternoon and he told me. And now.

I don't know what happened exactly, I called my sister Sara who was on her way to Las Vegas to babysit my sister Susan's children as Susan had driven to Las Angeles. And no one seems to be too certain what has happened. But it's a little scary. I think the uncertainty of it all is what gets me the most.

Or maybe it's the fact that I feel like I've held a lot of enmity towards him and a lot of things have gone unresolved. And suddenly it all seems silly, taxes, family fueds, misunderstandings, divorce, childhood dreams dashed, things that I've held onto for so long that don't even seem to matter any more.

And then, when it's all gone, the only thing that remains is a question.

What's left?

A Picture Says a Thousand Words

2009-03-24T13:24:00.001-07:00

I noticed that lately all I post are pictures, which is okay with me, because I assume that a picture says a thousand words and how could I possibly explain so much without my hands falling off? Of course, on the other hand, a picture says a thousand and you assume the other million, because what really took place behind the picture or the lighting and the background and the participants are all that you see.

This leads me to a tangent with my friend, who for privacy sake I will change her name to.. Carbin. One day I went over to visit my friend Carbin while we lived in a small apartment complex I like to call the "Fish Bowl" because there were these terribly large windows in the living room and kitchen that faced all the other apartments so that you could almost always tell what drama was happening with your neighbors.

As I walk in I hear a screech and the last remaining light in turns off.

Carbin: Who is there?
Me: Just me, what are you up to?
Carbin: Do you want to help me out with something?

At that statement the light was turned back on and I saw that the living room had been barricaded with couch cushions and draped with blankets to block out all light sources as the blinds has been squeezed tighter than Hillary Clinton's bum and sitting in the middle of the floor was Carbin wearing nothing by a white sheet and holding part of a tree root.

Carbin, who was generally known for her extreme modesty, quickly explained that she needed to take a picture of her holding this root from just the right angle and with just the right lighting in order for her to paint it later on. Needless to say, for the next two hours we went through every position imaginable in order to get just the right setting. Also needless to say, it never happened and eventually her room mates came home and she went scurrying into her room to dress and pretend like nothing had ever happened.

One day I would like to take that perfect shot.

Yooking

2009-03-13T10:44:00.000-07:00

Ways to integrate cooking and yoga:

They did it

2009-03-09T11:34:00.001-07:00

My brother got married:

Rhyming crimes

2009-03-02T11:00:00.000-08:00

While at work the other day, Juan and I began emailing between each other and after some jovial comments were exchanged on the status of our relationship compared to salad preparation, Juan began a rhyming face off which went something like this:

Me:
You're only saying that because you can't think of anything witty.

Juan:
No I'm just saying that because you're just jealous I'm pretty. (rhymes with witty)

Me:
Wow, you are an indelible pot.
When I think of things that I ought-
and oughtn't do
It is you, and only you.

Juan:
Mami,my little tomato or pot
You can't tell me what to do or what to not
Bring it on if you want cuz rhymes I've got a lot.

Me:
Papi, have I ever told you that you are silly billy pill
If you weren't so cute your kitschy rhymes would make me ill.
And all though you lived in Peru and your dad was in the military
Your Provincial tongue is no match for my vocabulary.

Juan:
Mami you're vocabulary is very nice
If it were a lil bit more extensive you wouldn't have to repeat words twice
That's cool as ice or blind as mice
Anyway we should definitely to gout to eat some of the Indian rice

Now I know that it is not any sort of literary accomplishment and is not even very good, but it made me laugh to see Juan working his best to oust me.

Oh Bother

2009-02-26T13:42:00.000-08:00

Tennis shoes. I need some. Apparently they are different from regular shoes. How am I going to figure that out?

Juan got his mission call to the beautiful:

Which is nice. Except now I get to spend my summer without him. I suppose since I will be living with my sister Anna though that it shouldn't be too bad.

I am almost done with all my assignments/projects for the semester, which is wonderful!

In other news: there is no other news. My life is as boring as a dried up sponge. The weather is beautiful though so maybe I will go for a photo shoot.

Lists

2009-02-23T11:42:00.000-08:00

Once when I was in the SLC public library I found a section of "zines" which was quite intriguing when I was 16. It was an entire collection of small magazines created by the everyday joe and somehow all of them ended up here. I read through quite a few and found one called "Lists" which I fell in love with. It was written by a girl who just compiled lists, ones she had found, ones she created, shopping lists, things to do, people whose names begin with the letter Z, etc. It was inspiring and it also sparked a love in me for lists.

I love lists. Maybe it is the clear cut beauty, the sheer simplicity of the thing. Maybe it is because my brain thinks better in columns than in paragraphs. Maybe it is just the word itself, but whatever it is, I love lists.

Flour of Heaven

2009-02-13T07:27:00.000-08:00

I like to cook and baking is alright (although I tend to really excel at cooking). One of my favorite things to do is to try new recipes, some of my favorite of late being:

Bell Pepper Muffins

Ingredients:

1/4 cup each chopped green pepper, sweet yellow pepper and sweet red pepper
2 tablespoons butter
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons sugar
2-1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1 egg
1/4 cup egg substitute
1 cup fat-free milk

Directions:

In a nonstick skillet, saute peppers in butter until tender; set aside. In a large bowl, combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt and basil. Combine the egg, egg substitute and milk; stir into dry ingredients just until moistened. Fold in the peppers.
Coat muffin cups with cooking spray; fill two-thirds full with batter. Bake at 400° for 15-18 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean. Cool for 5 minutes before removing from pan to a wire rack. Yield: 1 dozen.

Lentil Soup

Ingredients

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup finely chopped onion
1/2 cup finely chopped carrot
1/2 cup finely chopped celery
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 pound lentils, picked and rinsed
1 cup peeled and chopped tomatoes
2 quarts chicken or vegetable broth
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground coriander
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground toasted cumin
1/2 te aspoon freshly ground grains of paradise

Directions

Place the olive oil into a large 6-quart Dutch oven and set over medium heat. Once hot, add the onion, carrot, celery and salt and

sweat until the onions are translucent, approximately 6 to 7 minutes. Add the lentils, tomatoes, broth, coriander, cumin and grains of paradise and stir to combine. Increase the heat to high and bring just to a boil. Reduce the heat to low, cover and cook at a low simmer until the lentils are tender, approximately 35 to 40 minutes. Using a stick blender, puree to your preferred consistency. Serve immediately.

If this is love..

2009-02-11T11:06:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day is fast approaching and with this season of love there are lots of handwritten declaration, chocolates, and tacky decorations. And for me, there was a dream.

Last night I dreamed that Juan and I were getting married. It was all so exciting, everyone was there, all my family, including, interestingly enough, my extended family which I hardly ever see, but have all befriended me on facebook. My college friends (all of them) were hanging around, waiting for the ceremony and I was getting dressed in my wedding gown when I realized:

If Juan and I get married-- he wont be able to go on a mission and neither will I.

A sense of urgency and discomfort began suffocating me and I wasn't sure how I could just go and cancel the wedding with everyone here, but I know that I couldn't go through with it either. And then I began to realize, I couldn't go through the temple, because I hadn't gone through the necessary processes. I asked Juan if he had, and he said that he had. I asked if he had the marriage license from the state and he didn't. And I realized, even if I wasn't a sissy and didn't want to back out, I had to, because we couldn't legally do this.

But that didn't resolve the problem: everyone was there.

And then I woke up.

Saliva

2009-02-08T06:28:00.000-08:00

I am glad that I do not have a saliva issue unlike some people I know, if I did, how could I ever kiss the love of my life? I mean, look at this little kid, who would have thought he would turn out to be the boy I got to boss around? (see picture below).

Green houses

2009-02-04T16:14:00.001-08:00

What happens in Vegas...

2009-02-01T18:43:00.000-08:00

Over Martin Luther King Weekend, Juan and I went to visit his Uncle and my sister in Las Vegas. It was pretty CrAzY.

Trees and Life

2009-01-24T21:13:00.000-08:00

I always loved trees, I wonder if I could ever be a tree woman.

Technology, Family, and Time

2009-01-14T13:12:00.000-08:00

There have been a few things running through my head today (not to mention the nasty virus that has been running/ruining my throat)

Mostly, however, my thoughts are rotating around these three themes: technology, family, and time.

I have found lately that technology has been consumming our lives, I am writing this in my online blog, which should be case in point enough, however as I feel like expounding, indulge me in the following list of ways in which my technology portfolio has expounded recently. I am the pround owner of:

2 digital cameras (these are really my pride and joy)
1 dieing car (even if it may not last more than a couple more months and I am scared to think about driving it considering the noises it makes and the money it will cost to get insurance and to keep it running)
1/2 laptop computer (which I share with Juan since he hasn't technically left on his mission yet. However, since I am usually on a computer at work all day anyway, this usually doesn't pose a problem)
1 working cellular telephone and 2 broken ones
1/3 video camera (Juan actually received this from his work for a Christmas present, but since I use it to record my class lectures, I have commandeered it from him for most of the time)
3 flash drives (all of which were free to me)
1 very loud alarm clock (I have had this since I was 16 and so although it used to come with a CD player, it stopped working soon after Ilya managed to get ahold of it)
1 CD player (not super practical since I can just listen to any music I want online)
1/2 toaster (I bought this with Cami when we moved in together and she will probably take it if she gets married, but I suppose that is how life goes)
1 oster blender
1 hand mixing blender (very nice birthday present from Heidi)

This leads me into technology which is more difficult to "own" and which generally is just used- i.e. social networking tools, email services, and other computer applications. Facebook, although not always a very practical tool, has become much more popular in my family recently and even my sisters and my dad who I never thought would be into that type of thing, have joined.

The feeling is similar to when you have a nonmember friend at school who you always used to invite to church, but never assumed they would come and then one day you see them in the pew next to yours. You are happy, but skeptical and not really sure what to make of the whole thing.

I suppose it works though, having a place where we can all connect since we are so separate physically. Having more time to discuss things. More time in general. And yet, not really having any more time than we did before.

Which leads me to my final topic, which is time.

Last Thursday I attended a lecture that was trying to convince us all to go to Oxford for a summer abroad program. Although I have high hopes for myself, I also have low funds and so live vicariously by listening to other people talk about study abroad programs instead of actually signing up for them myself. While discussing the benefits of this particular program, however, the professor mentioned that one of the greatest ones was that of time. Time to be alone, time to walk the gardens and time to not be rushed about as we often are here on campus. And I drank in the thought like a breath of fresh air. Time.

And then I quickly scurried off to my next class, adding the occasional jog in between foot steps so that I wouldn't be late. Over scheduling seems to be one of my strong points and I wonder when I will ever have that time. The time to do nothing. I wonder, if I had that time, if I would quickly schedule it full of something else. I wonder.

I am my mother's daughter

2009-01-09T07:42:00.000-08:00

Lately I have been realizing that any time I have any ailment, all I have to do is call up my mother and I will get the instant diagnosis. It would be helpful if she just made a big long list of everything she has ever had, unfortunately I usually just have to find out as I go along, so I decided to make my own list of things:

Rolling veins (impossible to get my blood through a needle)
Scoliosis (particularly causing foot and back pain)
TMD
Gallstones

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

2009-01-03T19:10:00.001-08:00

Sometimes people are frustrating. Like when you depend on everyone else, but in order to get too and from work, but you end up working from midnight-8am and since no one will pick you up on New Year's Day, then you have to walk home. It takes two hours. Two hours to walk home in the freezing cold across the snow.

And then you take another look at it. For example, it's like camping, sleeping on a hard surface in a sleeping bag, taking a refreshing two hour morning hike.

This is where I work, well, as seen from a few hundred feet away.

Beautiful mountains and beautiful snow.