Absolute guilty pleasure

So a month or so back, I started reflecting on some of my favorite movies. One of them by far is The Little Prince, made back in the 70s. I absolutely love love love this movie. I remember watching it as a little girl, and as soon as I knew it was on DVD I pounced on a copy and pull it out every now and then to watch. I'll admit, too, that at one point in time I was proud of my ability to watch ANY movie without crying. That has since changed, and I'll blame it on the stress of school. Anyway, This movie can get the tears flowing before one bloody word is spoken. All I have to hear is the overture, and BAM! Instant tears. This movie is classic in so many ways. If you haven't seen it, ask me to borrow it and I'll consider letting it leave the house. Anyway, to get to the point of this post... Around the time I was contemplating my latest favorite movies list, I posted on my facebook status "Sarah is loving her some Bob Fosse," obviously with the mindset of Bob Fosse as the snake in The Little Prince. Absolutely amazing act. The man was a stud and a half. I decided to go over to YouTube and look up some other Bob Fosse things that have been posted.

Here's where it gets a little silly. After entering Bob Fosse into the search engine on YouTube, something related to Beyonce popped up. I'm not a big Beyonce fan outside of her first single, "Crazy in Love." I looked in my iTunes library to see what other songs I have of hers and there are a total of four, including this new guilty pleasure, and two I don't remember getting, so I'm assuming they're from a CD soundtrack or something. Anyway, back to this YouTube thing. Mind you, I'm looking for BOB FOSSE. I thought it was interesting that I see Beyonce, so I click on it. Whoever did the choreography for this video took some moves from a routine Bob Fosse did for his wife a number of years ago. Oh my gosh. I bought the song from iTunes four days ago, and have listened to it almost as much as any of my Harry Connick, Jr. songs. I watch the YouTube video at least once a day, and I've watched the comparison of the original dance to this one, and I can't even begin to tell you how much I love this video and this song.

Here's the link, so I'm not infringing on any copyright issues.

When do I get my break??

I've been looking forward to a nice break when I could have some "me" time. School's been out for a week and I've had a good idea of what I wanted to do with all my spare time.

Yeah, right.

My Christmas cards had been done in stages here and there for the past few months and I started assembling them about a week and a half ago. I ran out of ribbon. Then I ran out of purple embossed parts. Then I ran out of the Noel parts. Then I ran out of ribbon two more times. And to top it all off, I had to pay extra postage to send the dang things out because the envelopes wouldn't go through the automatic sorter thingie. AND some people's cards didn't make it out and are sitting on my kitchen table because of the postage issue. (Sorry Heather, Jeff & Nicki, Bryce & SueAnn, and Peggy.) Just getting the cards made and handed out took what seemed like forever. I made a total of 106 cards this year. (I prefer making cards to give to people rather than making treats.) Handing out the cards was a 2-day affair because of very, very snowy weather. So there's that part.

Rod's cousin, Allen, is here from Quebec, and we made some time to go see him. Out of all of Rod's cousins (he has a TON) Allen has to be one of my favorites. There are some people that you get along with famously. He's one of them. It doesn't hurt that we're a few months apart in age and both play the piano. I've got this notion in my head that after I graduate I could work with him, since he's a doctor. The only problem is that his field (something related to Pediatric Surgery, I believe) is not the same as what I want to go into, Pediatric Oncology. Who knows? Anyway, I'm hoping to get some better QT with him before he heads back to Canada. When we were there earlier this week, I was exhausted and wasn't really up to being my jovial self.

Which brings me to my next saga: Being sick. And I don't mean the sniffles. I have been sick. I missed work, and then felt guilty for missing work, so I went in, and everyone kept telling me to go home because I looked and sounded like crap. I honestly had no voice for a week. I had to tap into some personal time to make up for the day I missed, too. I hate that you have to be sick two days in a row to get ONE day of paid sick leave. Oh well. I guess it's better that way - you can keep the dishonest people at arm's length, or whatever.

What week were you sick, you ask? FINALS WEEK. Oh, hells bells, could my timing be any more horrible? My math final was a total bust, no thanks to being sick. I get this every year, too. Mom said I should be proactive next year and get a prescription in advance. Wise woman. I'll do that. Let's just say that coughing as violently as I was was VERY inconvienent.

Add to that a full-time job, and a 10-year old daughter. Oh, and a husband.

Even yesterday, Christmas, I had a minimal amount of time to do things on the Sarah list. Between making the mandatory appearance to Rod's family, making dinner, cleaning, doing laundry, and indulging in Rock Band on the Wii, getting to my list was... bah.

At least I was done Christmas shopping early.

I am so fortunate

Tonight my math professor handed out our grades to date. I took a look at the bottom line and saw... C-?!?!? I knew something wasn't right about that, so I looked to see what it was that was missing. Turned out to be... a test. Oh, hells bells. I immediately went to talk to my professor about that. I told her I've never missed a test and I can't imagine why that happened. She said that she wondered what happened as well, because it totally doesn't match my grade history in that class. I went straight over to the testing center to do a little research on what happened. Turns out they don't keep records of grades - just what tests you have to take. The girl who was helping me said that she could see a test still showing available for Math and that I had until tomorrow to take it. She said that's common with online classes. I told her that I don't have any online classes, and we figured out that the math class I had originally enrolled in was still showing up on my available test list... I freaked out, naturally, because a C- is so incredibly NOT ME. Turns out my professor came into the testing center to talk to them about my situation as well. She was gracious enough to tell them (to tell me) that she'd email the test again and I could retake it tomorrow. I was totally fine with that. After much wailing and gnashing of teeth to my dear, dear Rod, I pulled myself together and just figured I'd deal with it.
I checked my UVU email tonight and saw a note from my professor. She told me to call her. She explained to me that there was one other guy in class who had the same problem with having been enrolled in two different math classes and had one of his tests missing. She said that she felt that it wouldn't be fair of me to have to retake the test since it was the testing center's fault, so she just credited the score I got on my quiz 3 for test 3. I got choked up and told her thank you several times and explained that to have to take the test tomorrow would have been hard to squeeze inbetween work and Rachel's choir concert and piano and everything else I have to worry about.

I'm so extremely grateful for what happened tonight.

FYI

School has completely overrun my life. I will get it (my life) back on December 20th at 10:30am. I will surrender social activity once again January 7th, 2009 at 9am.

I cursed myself. Definitely.

I've been telling a lot of people that I've been really surprised at how much easier classes are now that I'm not playing the social game.



While that sentiment is true, I have to admit that when I registered for classes, I registered for enough credits to guarantee full-time status, as well as what I thought would be a good combination of classes. Yeah. Right.

EDIT: (I left this out in my hurry to get other things done.) I'm just now starting to feel the effects of working full-time, going to school full-time, and trying to run a household at the same time. It's tough. Really tough. I just have to push through this and get it done. I just hope Rod doesn't resent me after this semester.

Maybe next semester will be easier. I'm only taking three classes, and two of them are absolutely required. (Microbiology and yet another math class. The third is Spanish. Why Spanish? So I can talk to people at work and eventually use it in the field.)

I should leave it up more often!

I guess I left my blog page open on the computer a few days ago. After Rod got home from work that night, he said, "I think I know what your least favorite chore is." At the same time, we both said, "DISHES." I asked him how he knew, and he said that he read my ABC's of Me post. So what did I come home to today?? A CLEAN SINK!

To plagarize another blog title...

I am seriously, so blessed. Rachel's our only one, and while I've (periodically)struggled with that fact, she's made up for way more than any more we could have had.

I guess I should say something...

So it's been a week, and boy, has it been a fast one. I'm hoping things slow down just a wee bit and I have a chance to catch up on my sleep debt, as Ronna was explaining to me. (I'm in sleep debt about 10 hours.)

Anyway, I figured I'd say something about this week. I'll make it short and sweet because I'm about ready to collapse. I'm really, really tired of the presidential blah blah and am extremely happy that it's over. I'm not happy with the results, but will do my best to keep a positive attitude. The end.

Halloween '08

Rachel had expressed some interest in dressing up as something most of the other kids wouldn't think of. In years past, she's been a witch, a snorkler (her idea), and last year she was Hermione Grainger. (I made her dress robes on that.) So this year, in spirit of one of our favorite Wii games, she decided that she wanted to be Poison Ivy, from Lego Batman. I got so excited at her request - my own daughter, wanting to be the BAD GUY!! I showed her pictures of Uma Thurman's character from the (awful) movie, and Rachel insisted on looking like the Lego character from the game.



I wanted it to be modest (of course) and fall weather appropriate (so she wouldn't have to wear a jacket) so I decided on a flesh colored leotard and green leggings, covered with ivy leaves. Finding the leotard was the easy part. The hunt for green leggings was next to impossible. Finding leggings? No problem. GREEN ones? Not so much. Thursday night I decided to check a few stores that I normally don't go into, and sure enough, Wet Seal was my jackpot! They had one pair of green leggings left, and I didn't think twice about getting them. I added a few leaves to the pants so there was a partial flow to the whole thing, and...



I'm very happy with the end result. Rod had to get her ready in the morning, so I didn't get to see her until after work. When I talked to him later that morning, he said that she couldn't stop grinning and was absolutely thrilled with it. Here's a picture from last night. I can't get over how she looks. NO MAKEUP UNTIL SHE'S 40!!

Sure, now something happens... kind of.

So I'm cleaning the house because it's Thursday, my first free night of the week, and one of my favorite people comes knocking on my door. She asks if I would come be a body so that their team would be eligible to play in the volleyball tournament. (Multi-stake thing.) I said I would because I like her so much. I've never played volleyball, know nothing about volleyball, and can guarantee that after tonight, I'll never play volleyball again. I told them that a swimming meet should be held and that I'd kick all their butts.

The ABCs of Me

I'm sorry that I've not posted anything lately. School is tapping my brain and I'm afraid most of my creativity has gone into my Ethics class, believe it or not. It's depressing that I seem to be one of maybe 4-5 people in the class who can take things seriously and (at the same time!) have the ability to see things from all points of view.

I feel lacadasical in my ways of the blog so I present to you, dear reader, in all it's plagarized ways, shapes, and forms, The ABCs of Me.

Just in case you didn't know enough useless facts about me, here are 26 more!
A= Age: 31
B= Bed size: Queen
C= Chore(s) you hate: Dishes
D= Dessert you love: Sauce. Not just any sauce, though. SAUCE.
E= Essential start to your day: a shower!
F= Favorite actor(s): Cate Blanchett, Geoffrey Rush, George Clumby. Clooney, sorry.
G= Gold or Silver: Silver
H= Height: 5'5"
I= Instruments you play: piano, organ, pit orchestra, oboe (at one distant time)
J= Job title: Mom, Wife, Student, ICS Associate, Chief, Cook, and Bottle Washer.
K= Kitchen color(s): "Cream in my Coffee" (a.k.a. boring, dull, and neutral.)
L= Living arrangements: Husband, daughter, and the occasional wolf spider.
M= My name is: Sarah
N= Nicknames: Sar-bear, Midget, Mom (I forbade her from calling me Mama.)
O= Overnight hospital stay: After having Rachel.
P= Pets: We used to have a nice fish tank but got rid of it and its inhabitants after moving it three times.
Q= Favorite quote: "You just signed your expulsion papers, Nwanda!" and... (as cliche as it's sadly become) "CARPE DIEM!"
R= Right or left handed: Right
S= Siblings: 4 sisters, 1 fake sister, 1 fake brother (I'm not sure about Brian, as he was pretty much gone when I moved in.)
T= Time you woke up today: Hellishly and despressingly too early: 5:00am, after having gone to bed at 1am. (Thanks, Math 1010. ...and my insufferable procrastination.)
U= Unique about you: I can stick my fist in my mouth. That's right.
V= Vegetable(s) you love: Artichokes, butternut squash
W= Worst habit: Biting. Yeah, I know.
X= X-Rays you've had: Teeth, left arm (fell off a horse), neck (car accident), back (same), elbow (dislocated)
Y= Yummy food you make: Chicken Celeste
Z= Zodiac Sign: Aries

Wow, I'm closer that I thought!

I'm sitting here trying to figure out my class schedule for next semester. I've got my Nursing Classes Assessment cheat sheet in front of me, and I'm going over the list of classes I still have to take before I can apply for the nursing program. After this semester, I have FIVE classes left! Unfortunately, they're all KILLER classes: Anatomy, Chemistry, Math (one more to go, thank heaven), Microbiology, and English (Technical writing, which I hate). They're all 4 credit classes except for English. Now comes the decision... do I absolutely kill myself next semester and take 3 four-credit classes? Or do I spread it out over three semesters, taking 2 hard ones in both Spring and Fall semesters and leave Anatomy for Summer (which I've heard is a take-alone class)? Oh, decisions, decisions. I think I might choose the latter, since the deadline to apply for the program would have passed by Summer semester. My Nursing advisor said to pad my semesters, so I might just do that and take Spanish.

On another note, I found out that in my clinicals have to cover basically every area of the hospital. Which means.... I get to do a stint in the ER! Labor & Delivery! ICU! SURGERY!! NICU! And more! I just think that's freaking awesome.

Pictures

Rod and Rachel went on a motorcycle ride up to Bridal Veil Falls a few weeks ago and took the camera without me knowing. I just discovered these today and I love, love, love, love these pictures. She may not look entirely like me, but these photos scream "I am my mother's daughter!!!" when I look at them.






On a side note (since I'm feeling guilty about my previous blog post) here's another bit of proof that Rachel is my daughter: Rod was telling me that Rachel was getting ready for school and wouldn't stop singing "Enter Sandman."

This, too, shall pass. I hope.

Rod's cousin, Erin, and her family moved back up to Mapleton this past week, having been in Palm Desert the past few years. Erin's daughter, Harmony, and Rachel have been extremely close ever since the beginning. They're only 2 years apart. Erin and Trenton made the mass exodus this past weekend. Trenton mentioned that there was one last load that needed to make it back up here, and Rod volunteered to make the mad dash down and back to help them out. Because of my insane school schedule this semester, I asked him to take Rachel so I wouldn't miss any class or work.

Rod just told me about a little thing that happened on the way down.

Rachel was asking exactly what relation Erin's family is to us, and he told her - Erin is Aunt Lynette's daughter, and she's [his] cousin. She then asked, "Will I ever be an aunt?" Rod said that if we have any more kids, then she might be. He told her probably not, though.

He told me that after he said that, she got really quiet. Rod then said he looked in the rearview mirror and saw that she was quietly crying.


As her mom, this is totally devastating to hear. Rod and I only have her. I had one miscarriage and then nothing else happened after that. I know there's a possibility that she could marry someone with a huge family and she can have lots of nieces and nephews from his side, but believe me, I do feel a sense of guilt that she's an only child.

Toot, toot!! I'm patting myself on the back.

Yeah, I have to brag about this one. I'm taking full credit and nothing less.

Every few days or so (at work) I walk by a pallet in the receiving area that's wrapped with plastic and has written on it, "Please sign both copy's." Every time I walk by and see that atrocity, I take my permanent marker and cross out the "y's" and change the word to "copies." I can't tolerate crappy grammar like that. It's ignorant. Anyway, as I was getting ready to leave for the day, I happened to see a pallet, wrapped in plastic. On it was written, "Please sign both copies."



I RULE!!!

I should have worded it differently

Today in Biology my professor was talking about genetically modified produce. She said that if we've eaten corn recently, there's a good chance that it's been genetically modified. She also was talking about meat having been genetically modified and the high possibility that we've eaten some of that, too. Not much was covered on it outside of "This is why it's done..." and then she stated, "The benefits outweigh the risks." I wrote that statement down, and started thinking. After a minute or so, I raised my hand and said, "Wouldn't you agree that not enough time has passed to truly determine that the benefits outweigh the risks?" to which she replied (hastily, I might add), "Yeah, you're right. I shouldn't have said that." She floundered a little bit a little more. I swear I didn't mean for it to sound rude, and I'm hoping that she's not too angry that I pointed something out to her regarding the lack of solid evidence proving her statement to be true. I swear, I feel more and more like the one person in the class who's a know it all. I just watch Discovery Channel a lot. And I read a lot.

My iPod, Nwanda

I have many loves in my life. One of them is my iPod, Nwanda. As many of you know, I had recently been seperated from Nwanda, and not by choice. One day she erased her hard drive without any living assistance, and I was devastated. (I did have my entire library backed up, btw. All 8,300+ songs. And if you're like the once non-believer, Helen, I can identify each song.) After much time on the phone with Apple and much time spent driving to Salt Lake to spend more time at the Apple Store, I am thrilled to announce that Nwanda has been replaced and life can resume it's normality.

On that note ♪, I was waiting for Rachel to come out of piano today and started reflecting on my week of torture, a.k.a. The Week I Had To Listen To CDs. I got to thinking - if I had to make ONE CD that had my top ten songs on it, (because I had no other option than to have ONE CD) what would those ten songs be? I like this twist on the whole deserted-on-an-island thing, not just because it's a new twist, but because it could be REAL. (That and I have an affinity for making lists and writing things down, thank you Jeff Earl.) Here are my songs, in no particular order, listed by title/artist.

Butterflies and Hurricanes - Muse
Lagan - Afro Celt Sound System
Memphis Skyline - Rufus Wainwright
Mike Mills - Air
Symphony No. 2 in E Minor, Op. 27, Largo - Allegro moderato - Sergei Rachmaninoff
Fotzepolitic - Cocteau Twins
Now We Are Free - Kelly Sweet
Requiem, K. 626: Confutatis - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
The Land Of Might Have Been - as performed by Jeremy Northam
Don't You Worry 'Bout A Thing - Incognito

I think I could be quite content with this playlist. I also made a list of my 10 CDs I'd carry around if I ever had to, but I'll save that for another day.

It's that time again!

That's right, it's time for another semester of college! This Wednesday marks the first day of my latest semester at UVSC. (That's right, I'm NOT calling it UVU, just like Rick's is Rick's, and not BYU-I.) I shudder at the amount of money I'm racking up in student loans, but am hopeful that the end of the world won't come before I'm done with school, that our country won't be that much closer in that handbasket on the way to hell by the time I finish school, that our health care system won't be screwed up so badly that I will have wasted my time with schooling, and that I'll be able to look at my family and not regret the time I've invested in our future.

Wow, they sure don't waste time...

Rachel was enlightening me on some of the things she learned in school today. (I'll note, today was the second day, and she's now in 5th grade. Depressing.) She said that her teacher talked about WWI and WWII today. Her teacher said that WWI was started because someone got killed. (True.) Rachel couldn't remember who got killed. (Archduke Franz Ferdinand.) Then she started on about Hitler. Wow. I was really surprised to hear of everything that Rachel retained from what I told her (thanks, Indiana Jones, for making me explain to my daughter about Hitler burning books) and what she also learned from today. She knew about the gas chambers, the concentration camps, the signs, propaganda, Hitler's funny mustache, and the approximate number of people that were killed. Then she started talking about the "evil Italian." I asked, "Mussolini?" She said, "Yes."

Holy cow. I'm not ready for my daughter to be educated about what an evil, evil world this is and has been.

On a side note, I was yelling at a woman who called in to the Sean Hannity radio show today. (This is what happens when one certain iPod goes kaput.) She was insisting that we need not fight evil because God created evil and He's the only one who can get rid of it. Hannity was saying that as human beings created by God, it's our responsibility to do what we can to fight and prevent evil from happening. Duh.

What happened?

I work up pretty early this morning in hopes of making it to the gym. I get ready, have my suit on, my bag packed, and what should happen? I get sick. Sorry, Ronna.

I have a dilemma. A pretty big one. My iPod has mysteriously wiped itself clean of everything I put on it, save Peggle. I plug it in, look on iTunes, and see that 34.28 of the memory has "other" on it. My iPod also lost part of its identity, what with it being named "Nwanda V 2.0" and all that's showing now is "Nwanda V." Strange. All podcasts are gone, too.

I started adding everything back, and hopefully the situation can be handled without the need of going to the Genius Bar or sending it in. I'm looking at the capacity bar and the blue (audio) seems to be overlapping the orange (other) so hopefully it's nothing.

Here's to hope.

(I also apologize for this being such a lame post. I've really had nothing to write about, and I'm feeling quite ill.)

I can't take it anymore!

I'm on the Twilight bandwagon. I waited with a bajillion teenaged girls at Barnes and Noble Friday night, anxiously awaiting the last book of the series, Breaking Dawn.

It's Sunday afternoon. 5:34, to be exact. I still haven't finished. I'm trying my hardest to finish. But I can't. I can barely tolerate this book. I am at my wit's end, trying to break through Stephenie Meyer's hideous writing. I am seriously thinking of starting a website totally devoted to her favorite words, "grimace," and "murmur," and to her favorite phrases, "I blushed," or "If I could blush, I would."

Good grief. The first section of the book was absolutely horrible. As I've mentioned to a few friends, I think it's possible that it was hard to keep my interest because I'm married. What happens at the end of that first section, however, is when Stephenie Meyer "jumps the shark." No spoilers, but for those of you who've read BD, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about.

Then we get to Jacob's part of the book. Aah! For once, my interest is piqued! I'm racing through the pages, anxious to see what's going to happen, and then... *poof!* Uggh. Are you kidding me?! Stephenie Meyer "jumps the shark" again!

I'm now back into the Bella part (I'm hoping there are no more sections after this) and am reading just for the sake of finding out whether or not Stephenie Meyer can redeem herself. At this point, I'm just absolutely disgusted and appalled that I waited in line for this book. My opinion of the book, thus far? EXCREMENT.

I know I'm going to sound so contradictary

I have been trying to explain the way I feel about the environment/life/I-don't-have-the-word-for-it to my friends at work. It's been so hard to explain because I feel like a total hypocrite. I love the city. I love nature. I want to live in the city, but I want to be surrounded by nature, too. I want to be the type of person who has a compost pile, ten recycling bins, uses cloth bags at the local farmer's market, has a huge vegetable garden in her backyard, drives a hybrid, eats nothing but organic vegan meals everyday, dresses comfortably, is a minimalist, and weighs 96 lbs. However, my mecca is NYC, I have a big screen TV, a huge house (for me it's huge), a dead backyard, nothing but grass in the front yard, I weigh... enough, I'm a meativore, I wear lia sophia and use Pampered Chef, watch modern, non-earthy television shows and dream I'm Carrie Bradshaw, I throw away aluminum cans, drive a Honda (although it is a ULEV vehicle), and have a bag of Cheese-its in my pantry. At work, my friend said, "I'm a tree hugger!" I said right after that, "I'm a skyscraper hugger!" I feel like such a freaking wannabe.

I am MOTHER, hear me ROAR!

So today I'm checking our main e-mail account, and there's an email that pops up. The subject: Missing you. I look at the email address. Nope, don't recognize it. I open it, thinking it's something accidentally sent to us. First thing I see: Hi Rachel I miss you sooooooo much...

Oh, crap. A thousand things run through my mind. I monitor every webpage she goes to. I look over her shoulder and watch her play teddy bear games and laugh at her use of eBay to find Littlest Pet Shops. I limit her time online. Oh, crap, what have I missed?

I notice that the letter has no punctuation, several spelling errors, and then at the end, I see this (errors and all): ... lets make up nicknames since were like penpals my name will be wickedlover10

OH... @#^%#$@#!!! HELL NO! NOT MY DAUGHTER!

No way on Earth am I going to let this go on. I reply to the email and say, Hi, this is Rachel's mom. I guess she gave out our email address without our knowing and I'm going to have to ask that you not email this address again. Thanks.

I just checked our email before heading to bed, and man, am I... a jerk?

Earlier this summer, our neighbor's sister came up to visit and brought her 10-year old daughter with her. She and Rachel played every day she was here, and they formed a pretty good friendship. Apparently, this girl's mom contacted our neighbor, and in turn our neighbor gave her sister our email address, thus allowing the girls to communicate and so forth. I made this poor little girl cry and she had no idea what she had done and the mom basically wished us well and informed us that she'll no longer email us. DOH!

In my defense, there was no name in the email, just that wickedlover10. What mom of a 10-year old wouldn't freak out at that? I immediately emailed the mom back, explained to her that I had no idea it was her daughter, and would pass the note on. I apologized profusely, subtlely noted that there was no indication of who it was emailing Rachel, and sent it back.

After discussing this with Rod, who I'll add also freaked out at the name wickedlover10, I realized something. WICKED LOVER. WICKED, the freaking Broadway play. This little girl loves WICKED. It's nice that she loves the music, because I know there's no way she's seen the play. Again, in my defense: Think of your child talking to someone named wickedlover. 40-year old pervert in his mother's basement, anyone?

Bridal Veil Falls

Rachel and I met Fran this morning at Bridal Veil Falls, just up Provo Canyon. Gorgeous, as always. The hike to the falls was shorter than I remember. Then again, Lara wasn't with me and we weren't trying to be superheroes, thinking we could forge our own trails beyond anything normal people would try. :) We also drove to the trailhead, foregoing a 10-mile bike ride in 95 degree heat in the middle of the day. Aah, those were the days.

... just like her mother

Remember two posts ago when I mentioned my dad's remark about me being just like my mother?

Tonight we were out doing some caches in the area, when out of nowhere, Rachel piped up and said something very interesting to me. She said, "You know what, Mom? Sometimes I get really nervous, like I'm thinking about people I know and love and I have a feeling like something really bad is going to happen to them and it makes me sad." She elaborated even more, but I won't go into it because I don't want to embarass her. (I remember having major anxiety attacks about people I know getting hurt. I remember having one in 8th grade that was so bad I was taken home.) Anyway, after her little revelation, she said,

"I think I need a psychiatrist."

Thanks, I think

About a month or two ago Rachel, Helen and I went to a flash mob geocaching event at Nielsen's Grove Park in Orem. (Geocachers don't quite know what a flash mob is, but I'll give them credit for trying.) Anyway, at the end of the 15-minute event, DrJay, the organizer of the event, had a raffle for some small prizes. The last prize was a "mystery" and who should win it but my very own Rachie Roo. What was the prize? A can of SPAM. (Apparently DrJay is from Michigan, home of Spam.) Whatever.

Being the good California girl I am, I utilized said can of Spam into a delicious snack for me and a new treat for Rachel: MUSUBI!! I remember eating it all the time when I was out with the Chang Family, watching their kids while they performed at luaus and what-not. Musubi is incredibly easy, and I love it! Basically, you fry a slice of Spam, cook up some sticky rice, get some nori paper and wrap it all up. Musubi!

Emotional outbursts and lashing out irrationally

I like that title.

I forgot to blog about this the other day and figured now is a better time than ever, considering that there are a few new readers (I hope) since this afternoon. Lunch was a blast, I might add.

So Helen and I were out and about going to every scrapbook in the area looking for a few things that I needed. We were headed home from CP, down by the Springville Walmart. I was on 9th East by our church, when I glanced over and saw some teenaged couple freaking DRY HUMPING on the church lawn. I think I yelled something and laid on the horn. A lot. They looked up and I was in such a frenzy of anger that instead of rolling down my window, I rolled down every other window in the car and not mine until it was too late. (Also known as being at the corner of 9th and 2nd.) I said, "Oh, no way," and hung a left, burning into the church parking lot. I was so angry. Since I had my window rolled down (finally) I proceeded to... LASH OUT IRRATIONALLY at said teenaged couple. Here's the extent of what I said:

"What you are doing is disgusting and intolerable! You are on church grounds, and this is offensive to me! I don't care how old you are! You can take your levi-loving and go somewhere else! Go to the school across the way or to a park or whatever, but don't do that on church grounds! This is private property and I'll call the cops!"

Of course what I said was definitely more effective, wasn't timed so well as what's written, and didn't sound so organized and comical. When I got home, I was so angry that I was barely able to get the key in the lock and go in the house.

Helen made the comment that I can turn on the anger when I want to.

I think she's right.

Dad called me once to see how I was doing. I said that I had an emotional outburst and felt much better. He responded, "Just like your mother."

All at once

I found out today that one of my close friends (I can say that, right, Karli?) is actually leaving for Canada on Saturday. A bunch of us are getting together tomorrow at the Trolley for a last supper of sorts. I got a call today at work to let me know of the plans, and I'll be honest - I had to fight back the tears. I didn't think I would quite react like this (no offense) and am surprised at the thought. It's almost like running into people I know from my old ward in Provo: You don't expect their lives to be any different from when you left them. With Mike and Karli and the boys really, truly going this weekend it's a nice little dose of reality. Things are changing, and as hard as I try to ignore the reality of the matter, I can't. I'm just bummed. I'm sure I'll be the only one boobing tomorrow at lunch. (At least Mike gets one more 4th, right? Then what? Canada Day? I doubt they have fireworks displays as good as we do. After all, doesn't everything cost more up there? ;) )

I think today has just been one of those days for me... and it's a culmination of life's stresses and being so farking hot at work every day. When I get hot, I get extremely irritable. Apparently the thermostat at work for the grocery side of the store is right by the dairy cooler doors. That would be the obvious reason why after being at work for an hour I'm ready to go home and shower again. If anything is done about it, I'll be surprised. I'm just tired of hearing people who sit at a desk all day long complain that they're cold. Yeah, if you actually worked, you'd notice the heat.


But whatever. Today's just not been a good day. And to top it off, I'm not even into my week of green pills, so this is a total waste of energy!!!

Pictures of Hobble Creek Canyon

Here are pictures from two days ago, when I remembered to bring the camera. Naturally, the pictures do no justice.

... where she goes up the canyon.

Rod asked me if I wanted to join him and Rachel on a drive up Hobble Creek Canyon this past Sunday. Of course I said yes, because spending time with my family is important to me. We had an absolute blast.

Let me rephrase that. Rod and Rachel had a blast. I did, too, most of the time.

We went up the right fork, and the scenery was absolutely amazing. There were also free range cattle all along the roadway, which we turned into a game. I'll get to that later.

We got to a section of the road where it goes from being paved to dirt. Rod normally came up on his motorcycle (when he had one) to this point and would have to turn around. The road isn't that bad, but it can't be that great comfortable on a motorcycle.

Going around and up the hill was no sweat. The view? Breathtaking. Dense patches of evergreens were dotted with pockets of green fields. I'm sure on a good day you can see a bear or two going about their business. The air smelled clean. It even looked clean, for that matter. Since we had gone up in the evening, Rod said that he wanted to turn around so that we weren't going back down as it got dark. I had no problem with that.

And then we actually started going down.

The road we traversed was very curvy, almost like Buena Creek Road on some parts. On a few of those curves, there'd be a nice little drop off that I'm sure wasn't as bad as I thought it to be. When we came up to the first major curve, I sat as far back in the seat, clinching the water bottle between my legs, white-knuckling the door handle, and scrunching my eyes as shut as they'd possibly go. Rod noticed my unease and slowed down from 10 mph to two. The second turn we came up to caused the same reaction - eyes, legs, grip, seating. He completely stopped the Jeep and asked, "Are you alright? You look frightened." I said, "I'm absolutely petrified!" and started crying.

Like I said in my previous post, I love the beauty of Utah's landscapes.

I just wish it wasn't so painful.

As for the free range cattle game we made up, the goal was to tap one of the cows on the forehead. Every cow we pulled up next to would run away as soon as we put our hands out the window. We got to a really narrow section in the canyon and had every opportunity to tap cows. I practically hung out the window in effort to get one, and I was (obviously) the most successful. There was even a spot where a cow was facing away from us. I was spontaneous enough to reach out and give it a good slap on the hindquarters, causing it to freak out, moo, and run away. Good for a laugh to take my mind off the fact that while I thought I was in mortal peril just 4 miles up the road, there was no inherit danger.

Missing:

One crockpot.

Of all the things I've lost, and I assure you, I've lost a good number of things in this lifetime, I had to lose a crockpot. How I lost it, I have no idea.

NPR makes me so emotional.

I am so in love with the podcasts I subscribe to. It makes my work day go by >____< that much faster. I subscribe to about 15 and keep finding more and more that peak my interest. Of course I listen to the Radio from Hell podcast religiously, since I've been a FOP since 1995 (I pity those of you who know not what that means) and can't listen live, no thanks to work. I also have to have my dosage of Garrison Keillor, This American Life, and NPR, naturally. What NPR podcast, you ask? Try 8 different podcasts. I simply love NPR. Here's where I get so emotional.

You remember a few months ago my mentioning of certain music that causes warm, salty water to leak from my eyes? Well... A few weeks ago I remember listening to one of the NPR podcasts in which Jim Sheeler was being interviewed about his book that was released not too long ago, called Final Salute. He served three years as a Marine casualty assistance officer, and wrote about his experiences doing that service. He talked about his time helping one woman deal with her husband's death. I won't go into detail, but I will tell you this. I am amazed that this man was able to do his job for three years. I don't know if that's his required time or not, but man.

That brings me to the intent of my post. A lot of the stuff I listen to on NPR is related to military service or politics. I am very interested in things dealing with WWII. I get teary (as in, grab me a few tissues, I'm going to need help) when I think or see things related to the military in WWII. I think it's mostly because of my grandfathers. Rachel had a school program in 3rd grade where the kids sang a medley of all the songs related to each branch of the military. As soon as they started singing "From the halls of Montezuma..." I lost it. Even typing about it makes me weepy. I watched Atonement, and got weepy at the war scenes. When I saw Saving Private Ryan, I spent the whole movie crying. I know my deep-rooted respect for the servicemen that served and still serve in the Marines is because of these two men you see here. I never knew my Grandpa Roy (nor Grandma Vera) but I know my love and adoration is just as equal for him as it is for my Grandpa Gnarini. Both were career Marines, both served honorably for their country.

Well I'm quite the hypocrite. Kind of.

I gave Olivia crap a week or so ago about not blogging on her page. (It had been 2-3 months and I was tired of looking at the picture of snow.) Then I look at the last time I posted anything and realize that I had gotten sort of lacadaisical. Go me.

I know she loves me

When I was a little girl, I remember telling my mom that I'd pay her back for everything she bought for me. The other day, Rachel said the very same thing to me. I know she's genuine in saying that because I remember being totally honest when I said it to my mom. What did I buy? A new pair of church shoes, a pair of flip-flops, and a down comforter to go inside her duvet. Nothing she didn't need.

Last night she told Rod that she feels I spend too much money on her. I don't think I spend anything out of the ordinary on her. I get her what she needs and indulge her on her Littlest Pet Shop hobby, and even then she has to earn the pets she receives.

Night Caching!

I've always wanted to run out and try a night cache but never got around to doing one. I cherish my evenings, especially now that I get up at 4:45am.

Rod gets home from work early on Saturdays and needed to get out. I suggested that we go caching, and since daylight was running out quickly, a night cache would be best. I found one near Whiting Campground, just a few miles from the house, loaded it on the GPS and we headed out. When we got up to the campground, it was about 9:15. There was just an inkling of sunlight left, and to not freak anyone out, Rod went over to the host and let them know what we were doing. Apparently there was someone else who had come up earlier to find a cache and had no luck. Rod told the host that we were looking for a different one and would let them know if we were successful. We took off on the trail, looked for the little irridescent markings on the trees, made our way and found the cache! Actually, Rachel found it. She's our eagle eyes, honestly. That kid is superb! I forgot to bring the camera with me, so I took some celebratory pictures on our way back home. Rachel was laughing so hard after looking at these. We may look like a bunch of loonies, but I'm telling you, our little family is AWESOME!

Seasons

I love California, don't get me wrong.

I have also discovered, since we moved into our house 5 years ago, that I love Utah. Let me clarify, before some of you die from a sudden lack of oxygen to the brain. I love Utah, the state. To get even more specific, I love Northern Utah. Why do I love it so? Two things: The mountains, and the seasonal change. There is something absolutely mystifying about watching a tree throughout the year.

In our backyard, we have this ornamental plum tree that turns the most amazing shade of pink in the springtime, just before the leaves start to grow. Its blossoms are so beautiful.

On the street where we live, there are several of these trees that bloom, reminding me of Anne of Green Gables - She's riding with Matthew on the way from the train station, and as they're going through "The Avenue," she says something like, "No, that's not a good name. I'm going to call this 'White Way to Light.'" That's what my street reminds me of. I tried getting a full picture, but there really is no way to come close to capturing the total beauty of the trees in bloom. All along the block there are pink and white blossoms. Last year, Rod planted three more of these ornamental plums in the front yard to help out with keeping the front yard a little more shaded and to add a little more privacy in the years to come. I look forward to these blossoms every year.

I can't be a polygamist...

So Rachel and I are in the car yesterday, and two polygamist women and a man walk in front of us. I was on the phone with Olivia when this happened, so there's some backup to what I'm about to say.

Let me preface this by saying that Rachel is the funniest damn kid on the planet. EVER.

So the polygamists walk in front of us, and I shout out, "Look! Polygamists!"

Rachel says, "What's a polygamist?"

I think, "Crap, what do I say??"

"Rach, polygamists are people who believe that it's ok to have more than one wife. That's against the law, and it's against God's law. Polygamists can go to prison. Heavenly Father will hold them accountable, too."

"That's gross, Mom. I don't want to be a polygamist."

"Me neither. I wouldn't want to share Daddy with anyone else."

"Well, I can't be a polygamist, Mom. That means I'd have to be gay!"

I know I've told the story to a handful of you who read this, so I apologize for repeating myself. I just can't help it. This is the funniest thing I have heard all week. Rachel gets her sense of humor from her father, that's for sure. Her one-liners are killer. For me, I think of the witty comeback and catty remarks three days after the fact.

Best. Episode. Ever

Holy cow!!!! I don't know how many of you watch Survivor. If you don't, you're missing the best season ever. And not only is this the best season ever, tonight's episode was the BEST. EPISODE. EVER! I have been rooting for Ozzy since day one 'cause he's my guy. I love Cirie, too. However, that girl has done a few things this season that have just made me so angry. But going back to tonight... that girl is puh-laying the GAME! That was the best tribal council ever. And just when I thought Eliza's eyes couldn't get any bigger (or buggier, for that matter)... I am so full of adrenaline right now from watching this episode. That should be good for a little more studying.

I'm a Lumberjack and that's ok.

Yesterday Rachel and I are playing baseball on the Wii. She's pitching, and I'm desperately trying to hit something. Out from nowhere, she says, "Keep chopping that tree down, Mom."

Record players

I remember having a tan and brown record player growing up. If I had a picture of it, I'd post it. I listened to as much music as I possibly could on that thing. Albums I remember having: Rachmaninoff Piano Concertos (He was on the cover), Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto #1, Supertramp - Breakfast in America, Alan Parsons Project - Eye in the Sky, The Neverending Story soundtrack, Elton John - Too Low for Zero, The Mission soundtrack, Bach Violin Concertos, and (at the time) my most favorite album was Watch Me Sing, Vol. 1, by Janeen Brady.

I remember looking at the cover of that album and pretending that I was the brown-haired girl in the center. I would flip the cover over and see times printed by the song titles and think, "Why are these here? Am I supposed to listen to each of these songs at the listed time? One of these is 1:52 and another is 1:53. How's that going to work?" Aah, the naivety.

EDIT: Every single one of those albums is still monumental to me. Many, many memories are correlated with the songs on those albums. Even to this day I can remember where all the skips and scratches were on those records.

Last paper

I just submitted my last paper for my English class... sort of. Technically it's just a rough draft, but when I write papers, there are no drafts but the final draft. I've always been like that. I've had to participate in bulletin discussions where I show my brainstorming process and how I build the contents of my papers. To be honest, I hate brainstorming. I remember in grade school taking a sheet of paper and having to draw the diagram with all the little circles stemming from the big one in the middle. I hated that. I also had to participate in a few "freewrite" sessions. That's another one that I hate doing. I do it because I have to, and usually just b.s. my way through it. I just don't write like that. I can't write what I'm thinking - my fingers just can't keep up that quickly. That and I make horrible typos.

I have had so much going on in my life lately. So, so much. I'm glad General Conference was this weekend. I had class Saturday morning, so I missed the first session. I didn't catch the Saturday afternoon session either because I was running around willy-nilly trying to get my house in order. I missed this morning because I was busy being a temporary Presbyterian. I did get to see all of this afternoon's session, which was absolutely wonderful. Jeffrey R. Holland's talk really, really spoke to me. He talked about the Bible and the Book of Mormon. I also enjoyed the talk given about participating in our communities. THAT is why I play the piano for my wonderful Presbyterian friends. I know there have been days where I've complained about having to go play, but I can honestly say that I'd miss it when I'm no longer needed. They are truly faithful people, and I love them.

I just had confirmation that yes, Rachel is my daughter. Not that I didn't think it before, especially with the opera incident, but this is just one more sign that she's MINE. Rod and Rachel went over to his brother's house this evening to visit, leaving me at home to finish my paper. As they walked in the door, Rachel heard a few bars of the Idina Menzel song I had playing in the background. I looked over through the kitchen window thingie and saw her standing there, arms outstretched, head back, eyes shut, mouthing the words, "I can't be afraid, it's my turn to be brave," right with the song. Latter-day Ruth, anyone?

Life as I know it

Holy cow. It's been almost a month and a half since midterms. My math professor FINALLY posted my grade!! Were it not what it was, I would have been slightly more irate. 98.8%. Not too shabby. I'm curious to know what the missed question was, but I figure if it took her this long to post the score, getting a copy of the test would take another year. Oh well. I'm hoping this class has caused the corroded math file in the back of my brain to open a little easier, making it so I can test out and skip the next two or three math classes needed to fufill my requirement. I hate math. I've never been good at it. EVER. I also know I share this sentiment with all of my sisters. Maybe my fake brother and sister, too.

Mendelssohn was kind to me today. I performed better than I thought I would have, considering that I wasn't able to have much prep time in the 15 minutes it took to drive from work to school. At the performance, there was a girl who played Malaguena. I love that piece. Unfortunately I can't listen to that song again without thinking of this girl. Her playing wasn't great, but it wasn't bad, either. What killed it for me (and for those of you who know how I play the piano) was the fact that after playing certain notes, she'd throw her hand almost straight up in the air. Flare? GAG ME! I HATE THAT! What also drove me to fits of giggles was the fact that she'd STAND UP. In the middle of the piece. She'd also scootch herself up and down the piano bench, which honestly wasn't that big to begin with. Oh, I wanted to stand up and tell her to stop! There also was a guy who played a Chopin piece I played as a high school senior. He butchered it. I wanted to cry. It's one of a very small number of Chopin pieces I tolerate. Oh, the humanity.

Speaking of humanity.... I accompanied a clarinetist yesterday up in Layton. It was his regional solo/ensemble performance. This kid is FAB. What totally sucked: I had to play a half-sized keyboard, plugged into an amp, set up in the middle of their gym. He still got a 1 and is going to state solo/ensemble, but I swear that if I have to play on a keyboard at the state level, I will say something to the people in charge and not just leave it to the music teacher. Totally, totally not cool for something like this.

As far as Rod goes, he got his custom plates the other day. The circle is complete. Unfortunately for Rachel, when she gets her plates later on in life, she won't be able to customize with the complete spelling of Dockstader. DOXTADR? Who's going to get that anyway? If Lara were here, she'd tell me Rachel's plate should be ENIGMA. Not for the group, either. :)

Rachel sure loves Oprah.

But not that Oprah. She started reading when she was 3 years old, around the same time she started pulling random words out of her hat and shocking us all. One of her favorite things was opera, except that she never called it opera. She read it as Oprah. Anytime "oprah" would come on, she'd just sit there and listen to her heart's content. One morning I woke to the sound of the Queen of the Night aria coming from Rachel's room. She had turned the computer on, loaded Napster (yeah, I used it) and decided that she wanted to listen to a little Magic Flute. At 3 years of age. That's my girl.

So tonight after watching Survivor (hallelujah, the whiny baby left and Asymmetrical Boob Job Woman got voted off) I flipped the channel to Live From Lincoln Center and...

Lo!

Behold!

Madame Butterfly! Hooray!

Oh, crap, it's the last 10 minutes. I paused the T.V. and gave Rachel the skinny on the story: US guy goes to Japan, falls in love with Butterfly, Butterfly has strapping son, US guy goes back to US, Butterfly stays true to her US guy, US guy comes back with a new wife, and now he wants his son. I didn't tell Rachel the very ending. I wanted it to be a moving experience. The last time I remember watching Madame Butterfly, I wasn't actually watching it. I was watching my mom and older sisters bawling. (Mom had to point out that the stage was "that way.") Anyway, I was totally hyping up the last scene - "This is the most famous opera scene, Rachel," and "This is one of the most famous arias, Rachel." Yeah. Butterfly picks up the knife, gets ready to do the deed, and Rachel says, "She's gonna kill herself!" I told her to be quiet and watch. Butterfly's son comes running in and immediately the tears start flowing. Aaugh! One of the most beautiful, moving songs EVER! Butterfly walks her son to stage right, sits him down and puts a blindfold on him. She grabs the knife, and all of a sudden I hear, being whispered under her breath,

"Do it, do it, do it, do it."

"RACHEL!!!"

Man, I can't wait to take her to Don Giovanni next month.

Oops, I forgot...

I was going to post my favorite story ever. Here it is.



“Rod, sit down. There’s something I need to tell you. We need to get married…”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you understand. We need to get married…”
“Right now,” he interrupted.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Was it true that the person sitting next to me on the park bench was really feeling the same way? After all, Rod and I were just friends from work, only having known each other for about 4 months. I was waiting for an LDS missionary, and had only spent the past week really, truly getting to know Rod.
I had to gather my thoughts. It was late. I was in the middle of a small-time animal sanctuary in Logan, UT. Peacocks were squawking behind me, monkeys were jumping around in their cages in front of me. It was warm, but my body was shivering. Not exactly the best setting to be discussing something like an immediate marriage.
“You’re not just saying that, are you?” I asked.
“No, Sarah, I’m not. It’s like I had this feeling come over me just now,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking about marrying you until this very moment.”
“That is so weird, because I wasn’t thinking about marrying you at all.”
Brutal words, yet honest. I wasn’t planning on marrying anyone.
I looked at my watch. 9pm. My mind was racing. So many thoughts flooded my brain: What now? Where would we go? Where would we live? Did I really just commit to marry someone I had only dated for a week? What would my best friend, on a mission in Kentucky think? Oh, crap! My PARENTS! My family! What would they do? I couldn’t handle it.
“I’ve got to go home and gather myself.”
“Then let’s go,” answered Rod.
We hopped in my Honda CRX and headed for my house. The short drive across town felt like an eternity. The silence was so thick it felt as if cotton balls were in my ears and mouth, blocking anything from being said or heard. I couldn’t understand why I was feeling this wave of emotion. Nerves, perhaps, but it wasn’t set in stone. There was to be no marriage. Yet.
I invited Rod inside to discuss the matter further. I had no idea what he was thinking and needed to pick his brain. We went to my room, closed the door, sat down on the bed and started discussing the situation at hand.
“Do you still feel the same?” I asked.
“It’s only been an hour, Sarah,” he responded, “What about you?”
“No change. I know we need to do this,” I said. “It’s just a little easier said than done.”
We talked about our living arrangements, work arrangements, and the like. I asked Rod what his family would say. He assured me they would be fine. I had actually met his entire family the day before, when I was invited to a celebration of his cousin’s son’s birth. He asked about my family, and I quickly changed the subject. I didn’t want to think about it. Nobody in my family even knew Rod existed. We decided that I’d move in with him, 30 minutes away in Preston, Idaho, where he grew up. We’d keep working at the same company, and just take life one day at a time.
I looked at the clock. 11:30pm. I wasn’t tired in the least bit. The adrenaline pumping through my veins could have supplied the U.S. Olympic Track Team with surplus. I started cleaning my room furiously, hoping that the busy work would calm my nerves. I still wasn’t committed to following through, and couldn’t compute my anxiety and nervousness. Rod sat quietly on my bed. I looked at him, hung the last shirt in the closet, and sat down next to him.
“Ok, let’s do this,” I quietly stated. “How much money do we have?”
“I have about $100 on me,” he said.
“I have about $50, so let’s just go. Let’s go to Vegas,” I said.
We got up. I grabbed my keys and noticed the time. 2:30am.
If the drive across town seemed to take forever, the drive from Logan to Las Vegas should have seemed like an eternity. The whole way down we discussed our individual dreams and aspirations, politics, religion, how to raise a family, and what we wanted to accomplish together. We watched the sunrise as we crossed the border into Nevada. Could time have really passed that quickly? Our conversation continued until we pulled into Las Vegas.
I took the off ramp I felt would yield the best selection for wedding chapels: Tropicana. The Strip. The heart of Sin City. It couldn’t be that hard to find a wedding chapel, could it?
My ability to read must have been temporarily suspended because I drove by about 5 before Rod pointed and said, “That looks like a good one.”
There, on my left, was a little cream and brown building. It made me think of a Swiss cottage, like something you’d see in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. I looked at the sign: The Wee Kirk O’ the Heather. Interesting. It’d have to do.
I parked the car in the side lot and got out to survey the area. It was hot. Really hot, considering it was only 9:30 in the morning. I knew I was doing the right thing. The ball forming in my stomach would have to be ignored.
We walked up to the front door and saw a sign that read: PLEASE RING BELL. Rod took the courtesy and we patiently waited. An older, mysterious-looking man opened the door and peeked his head out.
“We’re here to get married,” Rod announced.
“Come on in,” said the man.
We went inside. I got a good look at Mystery Man. He was wearing a white undershirt and Bermuda shorts, bearing a tropical print that would only be available to an unsuspecting tourist on a cheap cruise to the Bahamas. His legs were white as paper, contrasted to the black, mid-calf socks he was sporting. The putrid smell of body odor permeated the room.
He and Rod discussed the fees. We were told it would be $50 to rent the chapel, and $50 for the minister. Rod explained that we were working on a tight budget, only had about $120 left to cover the wedding, the license, and gas to get us back home. Mystery Man took pity on us and only charged us $10 to rent the building, and $40 for the minister. He told us he’d call the minister while we went to the courthouse and got the marriage license.
After returning to Wee Kirk from getting the license, we were seated in the lobby and asked to wait, as the minister hadn’t arrived yet. As I sat in the chair, I held Rod’s hand and started giving myself positive affirmations. I was doing the right thing. I knew I was supposed to be doing this. I loved Rod. I knew it.
Mystery Man came to tell us the minister was ready. He showed Rod where to stand in the tiny 20-person chapel. White pews flanked the sides of room. Cheap silk flowers sprays were covering the front. Mystery Man took me around the corner and told me to wait while he grabbed a cassette tape, threw it into a stereo, and pushed play. “I Finally Found Someone,” by Bryan Adams and Barbra Streisand suddenly filled the room. I was given a little push, and knew that was my cue.
I walked around the corner and got a good look at the minister. Somewhere, someone was laughing at their fortune made after selling a mauve pink ensemble, complete with matching suit, shirt, and tie. He was dressed to the nines and even had the rose-tinted glasses to prove it. I felt quite underdressed in my t-shirt, shorts, and purple Birkenstocks. At least Rod and I matched in our summer attire.
The minister rambled on about love being like a tree and nurturing its roots. I didn’t listen to most of what he said, as I was bursting into fits of giggles at the sight of Rod, who was also chuckling under his breath. When we exchanged traditional vows, a sense of calm came over me. As we were pronounced husband and wife, another calming feeling came over me, reaffirming my emotions. We gently kissed, gave each other a huge hug, thanked Mystery Man and the Mauve Minister, and got in the car. We made a pit stop at a nearby Exxon station, got some snacks, and headed back to Logan.
When I told my parents, they were (naturally) furious. Once they met Rod, they knew I had made the right choice. It took time to build that bridge, but that bridge is made of solid trust and love.
Almost eleven years after that day in June 1997, I still have no regrets to my 8-hour engagement or my $50 wedding. It’s been nothing but absolute bliss.

While I'm waiting...

I didn't think to do this sooner. I'm also tired, so I have an excuse.

I'm taking my bonehead math class online. I have to access my homework and what not from a different website, one from which my professor more than likely gets a kick back for each student. Anyway, I tried to access the videos from this website and couldn't get any to work. I spent a good month going back and forth on the phone and in emails with this company to no avail. They had me switching all sorts of things with my internet browser, router, blah, blah, computer stuff, blah, blah. I noticed about a month ago that the internet connection and the weather channel wasn't working on the Wii. I didn't think anything of it. Last night Rod decided to figure it out. I kept telling him I could see if I could reconfigure it. He didn't hear me. Go figure. He managed to fix it, I think. In the meantime, he did a system restore back to, like, January. In doing so, he managed to take away my ability to access my word processing program. I have a peer review due tonight. I might add that this peer review is really tedious to complete, as the paper I'm reviewing is so incredibly boring.

I'm still waiting for the trial version of Office to finish loading, which it has. I'll post info on the assignment. It was a blast, and one of the easiest papers I've written.

Things are getting a little out of hand

After about a month of unorganized music playing on Nwanda v. 2.0, I've decided to sit down and make a few playlists so I'm not stopping to fast forward through the random Christmas albums that pop up. I just plugged in and started playing one of my new favorite songs, The Minnow & The Trout, by A Fine Frenzy. I thought, "Hey, my first playlist is going to be that of the empowering female voice." I have some really good stuff, including the aforementioned A Fine Frenzy. I made the category, and then started going through the songs on my iPod. Good gravy, this is going to take forever. 8002 items? Even if I were to make a general shuffle sans Christmas, it's going to take a month of Sundays. I've also decided that I'm going to whittle down some of the albums I have on Nwanda. While it's nice to have the complete album, there are some songs I just have no interest in listening to, and can't see wanting to listen in the future, either.


On another note, I have to say that for the first time in my life, I've really enjoyed the visiting teachers assigned to me. Not to discount the ones in the past, but for once, I have had two different pairs that understand what my schedule is like and are willing to give me my space. I didn't have M&A that long, but it was nice because they weren't banging down the door wanting and insisting on seeing me every month. They totally got it. The first lesson we had for the year in Relief Society was all about the importance of visiting teaching. I was getting a little peeved at the way the conversation was going, simply because the R.S. Pres was pushing and pushing that it HAS to be done at no cost, and was listing creative ideas for convincing your teachee that you, as the teacher, absolutely have to come over. That doesn't sit right with me AT ALL. I hated and dreaded getting calls from some of my previous VTers because they couldn't compute that I didn't have the time or wasn't available. Anyway, I raised my hand and simply asked, "What if you don't want to be visit taught? What if you don't want to have visiting teachers?" Holy cow, after I said that, I swear I heard about 35 jaws hit the floor. I think the ladies in my ward have forgotten how blunt I am. (I've been in Primary for the past three years.) Anyway, I changed the tone of the conversation, made my point, and got the message to the Relief Society presidency. After the lesson, P, one of my two current VTers, came up to me and asked, "Is this your way of saying you don't like us?" and gave me a huge smile and a hug. I proceded to explain to her about my schedule and how I have barely enough time for me. She said she totally understood and asked if calling every now and then would be ok. I told her that would be perfect. She actually called me last night and we had the most delightful conversation. Did I mention she teaches English at UVSC? I absolutely adore P, and not just for that one reason, either. That's just a bonus.If you'll excuse me, I have some playlists to make.

Of all the weeks to get the flu, it had to be midterms. Tuesday I left work around 12:30-ish, feeling absolutely cruddy. By 4pm, I was down for the count. I called Helen to save the day with a Slurpee, which I was extremely grateful for. I went to the doctor on Wednesday and was given the verdict: FLU. That sucketh. And did I mention - this week was midterms? Oh, $80 prescription, too. I remember as a little girl watching Granny take all her medications out of her little pill box. I totally felt like I was her, taking all the pills I had to. Metformin for the PCOS, the pill, 4 ibuprofen, and the Flu-B-Gon or whatever it's called. I think I called the pharmacist two times to make sure I wasn't going to die from taking all of those. I tried going into work yesterday. My supervisor took one look at me and said, "You look like $@#!, go home." Good thing I did, cause it wasn't pretty in the parking lot. And, of course, having a 103 temperature three days in a row isn't that helpful when you have two tests to study for.

So today I had those tests. Yeah. I feel pretty good about my Math midterm. I was expecting a huge, time consuming test. 20 questions and permission to use a calculator? Sweet! No geometry questions? Even better! The Nutrition test wasn't as bad as I was thinking it would be. That could be a bad thing, though. We'll have to see. All I can say is that I'm glad to be on the upswing from this thing. Being down and out for 4 days was miserable. Next year, I'm getting a flu shot.

iPod alert!

When we took the still unnamed CRV back into the shop to have the dum-dums fix the dent they caused when it was originally there, my iPod, Nwanda, was hidden in its super sekrit hiding place, which you have to really be looking for. Anyway, I noticed it missing after Rod brought it back home. I called the company after searching high and low for Nwanda. (Those of you who know me, my iPod is as important to me as, say, air.) Anyway, I spoke to the GM and he gave me the "We've never had theft in our 30-year company history..." BLAH BLAH. He said he'd review the tape and get back with me. I called 3-4 days in a row to remind him that I miss my iPod. He never called me back, and I figured I'd just leave it be. Rod, knowing that I must have my music on demand, bought me a new iPod, rightly named Nwanda v. 2.0. Life was back to normal. Rather, life was back to as normal as I could get it.
Anyway, Rod got a call a week-ish ago. It was Mr. GM from the auto body shop. He informed Rod that they set up their own sting operation after my phone call and apparently someone else's call regarding things missing from their car. The result of the sting was... A THIEF! Rod went over to the shop and described my iPod, but alas, the iPod they had there was white. Nwanda was black. Mr. GM said that since the guy stealing stuff had admitted to taking things out of several cars, he was going to graciously reimburse Rod the cost for Nwanda v. 2.0. Sweetness!

Something I've been thinking about lately (in relation to Nwanda v. 2.0) is how I'm so connected to music. There's something to be said about being able to listen to a song and have it affect you in some way or another. I believe that songs connect you to your past. For example, "Plush," by Stone Temple Pilots, makes me think back to Prom 1994. I still laugh my head off just thinking about it. Liz McKinley must have REALLY thought I was lame after that. Oh, wherever you are, Liz, I'm sorry. RJ, wherever you are, I hope you remember that song and laugh. Probably not. I have a strange, innate ability to remember things of unimportantance. It sucks. I'd like to remember math equations and the chemical makeup of fructose. Alas, I can't. I remember going to 7-Eleven with Heather and hiding a tape under a bush because we didn't want people to think we were stealing it. Anyway, back to the connected to music bit. There are certain songs that are guaranteed to make me in a good mood. One of them came on today at work, and I just had this shot of happiness go straight to my brain. It was awesome. The song? "Don't You Worry 'bout a Thing," by Stevie Wonder. That's my guaranteed happy song. I love both versions I have; the other version is a cover by Incognito. There are the the pumped songs, the ones that get me moving even faster. The Fratellis does that to me. There are the songs that are guaranteed to put me to sleep. (I actually have two albums dedicated exclusively to going to sleep. I thought it'd be good background music for studying. Needless to say, that lasted about 10 minutes. Big mistake. Cue the Narada.) Then there are the songs that I think, "Man, I love this song so, so, so much, and I'm not going to cry this time." 30 seconds later, I'm forcing the lump in my throat to disappear and I'm looking for an excuse to seek privacy. One of those such songs also came on at work. Oh man, I was out on the floor, too. Luckily it was a slow time. No one was really around. I won't mention the name of the song, nor the artist, as I want to avoid scrutiny from Lara. But this song.... oh, how I love it so. The emotions, the melody, the orchestra, the voice... Yeah, Mrs. I-hate-showing-my-soft-side wipes a tear or ten when this song comes on. And this behavior isn't exclusive to this one song, either. I don't know what it is, but there are several others that have the same effect. I recently acquired a CD with one of the "other" songs, and I can say that it quickly became one of my top played on Nwanda v. 2.0 very quickly. I'll admit that song title - it's "The Land of Might Have Been," as performed by Jeremy Northam (My Mr. Knightley) on the Gosford Park soundtrack. Love, love love love love.

I need to go do more math.

Olivia called earlier and assumed I hadn't heard the news based upon my manner upon answering the phone. She was right. I'm stunned. Speechless. I told her I'd call her back and walked down the hallway to tell Rod and Rachel the news. Rachel gave me this look like, "Now what?" and Rod was equally upset to hear the news.

I haven't had time to truly process the information, as I've been up to my eyeballs in homework today. I tried accessing about 5 different local websites to get more information but all of them were overrun with hits from people all over the world, obviously. I just put a movie when Olivia called. I went online to see if my friend Alexis was online. She's in Rohnert Park and I wasn't sure if she'd have heard. I guess she had a few people call her and let her know. I called Olivia back to see if I needed to call Lori or Lara. It got to the point where I needed to get my mind to slow down after today... just in time to start the work week tomorrow.

Comcast's home page had a news point about President Hinckley. I was hoping they would.

I started thinking about how wonderful a man he was, and all the things he had done for the church during his presidency. What a legacy he left. Then I got to thinking... The three of us were privledged beyond explanation to have been given tickets to conference at the last minute last October. I think Bishop Pike told Bro. Allred to call us and give them to us. I remember being so excited because conference tickets aren't that easy to come by and it was for the Sunday afternoon session - the only session the three of us could attend together. Our seats weren't that great, but to be in the same room as President Hinckley? To look back and realize that we saw one of his last public appearances, and got to hear the last time he addressed us as a worldwide congregation just brings me to tears. I remember when President Kimball died. I remember feeling sad. I was also just a little girl. This is saddening to the core. I know that he's now with his sweetheart and is having the biggest welcome home party to date. What an incredible man.

Life! Slow down!

I'm telling you, time is slipping away faster and faster it seems. Then again, I do have quite the hectic schedule as of 1/3/08. I do want to go back and talk about one of the best days of 2007.

Nathan, my fake brother, emailed me a week or so before Christmas to tell me that his parents were going to be in town for the holidays. Naturally I made sure to set time aside to head up to Logan and visit. I picked the last Sunday of the year because it was more convienent for all three of us to go. After being a part-time Presbyterian, we loaded up in Stupid Car and made our way up. I almost decided against going because the weather was absolutely dismal. Driving through Sardine Canyon in any kind of bad weather is not my cup of tea. Rod still freaks out after having almost been blown off a cliff on the way to his grandmother's funeral.

Anyway, we made it to Logan in considerably good time. The weather wasn't bad at all - just in Springville. We got to Nathan's and saw Trish and Harold. It was the first time I had seen them since Grandma Oak's funeral, which was about 3 years ago, I think. Long time. I gave Trish the biggest hug - I miss her so, so much. We had a great visit and talked about everything under the sun. We headed to Margaret's house for dinner and spent a few more hours there before packing up and leaving. It was so good to see everyone. I loved living with The Oaks.

I had quite the lesson last week in listening to the Spirit. On my lunch break, I ran over to UVSC to get things with my financial aid worked out. When I got back to work, I grabbed a dollar out of my wallet for a bottle of water and left my wallet sitting on the seat. I was in a hurry to get back inside because I was over my hour and didn't want to have to stay any longer than I had to. As I was running, I had this small little thing pop into my head: "Your wallet's going to get stolen sitting on the seat like that." I didn't really think anything was going to happen because I had locked the doors to Stupid Car and just... needed.... to.... clock.... in!! When I got home, I remembered I had to run to the post office and started looking for my wallet. It wasn't in the house. Wasn't in the car. Looked in the house again. Started panicking. Decided I must have unconsciencly taken it into work with me and left it in my locker. I jumped in the car, chanting, "Please be there, please be there, please be there..." As I got on the freeway, I asked Rachel to say a prayer that we'd find it. I called Rod and told him what was going on. He said not to worry, that everything was going to be fine. I got to work and ran into the back, looked in my locker... no wallet. CRAP. Went to the front desk - no wallet. Got in the car, called Rod, absolutely in tears. Called Dad, absolutely bawling by that point. He walked me through what needed to be done, naturally. (I love that about him - he's calm through just about everything.) I got home, emptied out Stupid Car, scoured every inch of the house that I went in after getting home from work. No wallet. CRAP! I got on the horn with the Orem P.D. and reported my wallet stolen. Told them what happened. The lady gave me the number to the credit bureau (My SS card was in my wallet for work reasons and I hadn't taken it out yet.) as well as the SSA. I called the credit bureau, had a temp hold put on my number. Called to report my cards stolen to every other thing in my wallet. Was in a total panic by the time Rod got home. I swear, no more than 15 minutes after he walked in the door, he changed out of his suit, went out to Stupid Car and found.... MY WALLET. Needless to say, had I listened to that little voice in my head, I could have ignored this whole situation. I'm just having no luck with that stuff. I need a new purse, really. I don't do well with just carrying around a wallet. My old purse broke, in case you're wondering.

Now I get to deal with the hassle of my online classes not being available yet. My nutrition class is going to kick serious butt. I need to leave my Skinny Bitch mentality at the door when I go to that class, however. Lara would be so proud!

On a side note: Yesterday they showed hot dogs on How It's Made. Oh. My. Gosh. I will NEVER eat another hot dog as long as I live. AND! High Fructose Corn Syrup is in HOT DOGS! SKINNY BITCH ALERT!!! Lara would be so proud!