Square One

This is a test. This is only a test.

2010-06-20T10:14:00.000-07:00

I've decided that planning a wedding is a lot like being in school. For me, the first two weeks of the semester were completely overwhelming because it felt like I had to do all of the projects and write all of the papers right away. But inevitably I'd realize that I had the whole semester and everything was going to be just fine. I also remember that constant small nagging feeling that I should be doing homework or studying whenever I took a break. And I remember counting down the days until my last semester ended--I couldn't wait to be done and move on with life.

When I got engaged, it felt like I had to plan it all right away because there was so little time and so much to do. But we've worked at it little by little, and now we've got most of the planning done. There is a constant nagging feeling that we should be doing wedding stuff rather than taking a night off to watch a movie. And we've had a countdown going since 80 or so days out (down to 41 now). The only difference is, I'm really excited for the final.

Men are that they might have joy

2010-05-16T09:58:00.000-07:00

Several years ago when I was living in Provo, I had a conversation with a girl who had gotten engaged to her boyfriend after two months. I remember her saying that she had sworn she would never ever ever be one of those girls, but when it's right, it's right. As I walked away from that conversation, I shook my head in pity for the crazy girl and swore to myself I would never ever ever be one of those girls.

I've had to break that promise to myself. Because when it's right, it's right. And I will be the first to admit I'm crazy. So if posts here are even more sparse than usual for the next few months, it's because I'm planning a wedding.

Why I love my family

2010-04-05T23:24:00.000-07:00

So last night I finally reached my family sometime around 8 (well, 9 for them). Apparently they had been out and weren't just ignoring me. The first request was that I get on Skype so we could video chat. I explained that I wasn't at home and Skype was out of the question. So they put me on speaker so I could hear everyone at home and my brother in Idaho who was on Skype. My mom then explained that we were going to play Balderdash as a family. How does that work when half of the players aren't in the room? It's not as complicated as you may think, but it's close. The brother on Skype would hold up his answers to the camera, and the person collecting answers would turn the screen so no one else could see. Since I was only audio, I could really only vote. After one round, we realized my sister was missing, so we called her on a cell phone to include her in the insanity. It was one of the best games of Balderdash I've ever played. Ever. My family is the best.

Dear Santa Claus, part 3

2010-03-18T07:11:00.000-07:00

I have just received my shipment of the good guy to date. Knowing the high demand and short supply, I had just prepared myself for a long, difficult wait. But then he appeared from amongst the guys I already knew. I wasn't expecting that at all. So kudos, Santa. You managed to surprise me with someone even better than I was hoping for. Thank you.

The Cure

2010-03-07T11:29:00.000-08:00

The Cure
by Ginger Andrews

Lying around all day
with some strange new deep blue
weekend funk, I'm not really asleep
when my sister calls
to say she's just hung up
from talking with Aunt Bertha
who is 89 and ill but managing
to take care of Uncle Frank
who is completely bed ridden.
Aunt Bert says
it's snowing there in Arkansas,
on Catfish Lane, and she hasn't been
able to walk out to their mailbox.
She's been suffering
from a bad case of the mulleygrubs.
The cure for the mulleygrubs,
she tells my sister,
is to get up and bake a cake.
If that doesn't do it, put on a red dress.

I skipped baking a cake and went straight for the red dress. It worked.

Timing

2010-02-23T22:29:00.000-08:00

"In all the important decisions in our lives, what is most important is to do the right thing. Second, and only slightly behind the first, is to do the right thing at the right time. People who do the right thing at the wrong time can be frustrated and ineffective. They can even be confused about whether they made the right choice when what was wrong was not their choice but their timing." --Dallin H. Oaks

I have found myself feeling frustrated with my life recently. I wanted something different, but I didn't know what exactly I wanted. I still don't know. But I'm making peace with not knowing, taking baby steps towards what I do know, and learning to be patient.

I highly recommend the whole talk by Elder Oaks, found here.

Things I want to do this year

2010-02-07T23:10:00.000-08:00

See the poppy fields in late March/early April.

Go camping in Yosemite. I'm thinking sometime in August.

Visit the gardens at the Huntington Library.

Visit the main Getty Museum (did the Villa last year).

Do a session at the San Diego Temple.

Maybe visit San Francisco, if I can afford it and if I can find a good weekend to go.

If anyone would like to join me for any of this, let me know. Adventures are always better with friends.

Mindy's Musical Mood Alert Chart

2010-02-02T00:04:00.000-08:00

Green = just chillin'; Norah Jones, Jack Johnson, Chris Botti
Yellow = get this party started; random running mixes, whatever's on the radio
Orange = stressed out; classical, Mormon Tabernacle Choir
Red = do NOT mess with me right now; Muse, Dashboard Confessional, "teenage angst music"

I had Muse cranked up loud enough to wake the dead on the way home tonight. You have been warned.

Dear Boys,

2010-01-30T18:06:00.001-08:00

You're idiots.

Love, Mindy

In sickness and in health

2010-01-12T22:56:00.000-08:00

I am not a drinker, so the only time anyone asks to see my ID is when I'm going through airport security or a zealous cashier wants to make sure it's really me buying Doritos at Ralphs. But I've been carded three times in the past week or so because I bought various cold medicines. Every time I think, "Do I look like I'm trying to start a meth lab?" I know the poor teenagers behind the register can't help it; the machines won't continue working without a swipe from my ID. I still hate being made to feel like I'm suspected of something sinister when all I want is my nose to stop running and my cough to stop. I haven't read the health care bill, but I think we should all write to our congresspeople to put an end to this practice. And if the cops come to check up on me, I have a trashcan full of Kleenex as evidence of my innocence.

Since I've had the cough for over a week and it's not really getting better, I had two people in unrelated conversations suggest that I go see a doctor about it before it becomes bronchitis. "After all, why else do you have health insurance?" Good point. And since I have had respiratory infections that lasted forever and turned nasty, I decided to visit my local walk-in clinic (someday I will find a primary care physician and make real appointments. Today is not that day). The doctor said I probably have what everybody else seems to have and gave me a prescription for antibiotics, cough syrup, and steroids to repair the damage the coughing has already done. I thanked her and headed to CVS. The first time the pharmacist rang me up, my total was $118. We both kind of blinked at the number, then she asked if I had insurance. Uh...yeah. Why didn't you ask for it before? The second total was $27. Tonight I am going to say an extra prayer of thanks that I have a job with health coverage. And then hope the codine cough syrup knocks me out for the night.

Multiple Choice:

2009-12-31T17:16:00.000-08:00

"Is there a reason you didn't come to a complete stop at the stop sign back there?"

a. Because I'm in a hurry to get to work to get this day over with so I can get to the good stuff tonight.

b. Because I didn't see you hiding in that parking lot.

c. No.

Maybe I should have tried crying.

Dear Santa Claus again

2009-12-27T22:33:00.000-08:00

Thank you for the safe and sick-free travel. I know the sick-free part wasn't easy after my friends got sick just before I left, so I appreciate it. Thank you also for the snow. Can I have this much every year?

I know demand is high for good guys (all my friends want one too). I can only assume that this means they are on back order. Please send mine along when they become available again.

Happy New Year!

Dear Santa Claus

2009-12-01T00:13:00.000-08:00

How have you been? Did you have a nice summer? How is your wife? I have been extra good this year, so I have a few special requests of what I want for Christmas.

1. Safe holiday travel with no missed layovers and no getting sick before I fly.

2. Snow for Christmas so I can go sledding.

3. A good guy to date.*

4. A fisheye lens, a new computer with better processing speeds, Photoshop, graded filters for shooting landscapes, and an external flash unit.

All I want is what is what I have coming to me. All I want is my fair share.

* I realize this one doesn't exist. Maybe world peace instead?

And the waiting is the hardest part

2009-11-03T23:04:00.000-08:00

I realized something in the past week or so. Being optimistic about the future and having the patience to wait for that bright future are two totally different things. Also, life isn't fair. But as my dad always said, "Nobody said anything about life being fair. But it's worth it."

Shouldn't you be in the other lane?

2009-10-06T00:05:00.001-07:00

I'm a terrible backseat driver. Just last night, I had to hold my tongue so I didn't tell a friend I've known for years how to get to my house. She definitely knows where I live and needs no assistance from me. Today as I drove up that same road, I had an epiphany.

When I offer you directions or helpful suggestions while you are driving, it's not because I think you're an idiot who doesn't know where you're going. You're an idiot because you aren't driving the way I would drive.

Living in a Beach Boys song

2009-10-04T23:31:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I was bored and browsing photography contest websites. I found one that I considered entering, but I ran out of time to compile/take pictures and I was too chicken to enter. But I've been thinking about it ever since. The contest theme was Homeland--where you live now, not necessarily where you were born. So here's what I would have entered and why.

When I was eight years old, my dad bought a cassette tape of Endless Summer by the Beach Boys. I loved it. My siblings and I would bring our tape player out and blast "Surfin' Safari" as we roller skated in the driveway. And even though I only knew the "inside outside U.S.A." part of the chorus of "Surfin U.S.A.", I sang along with gusto.

A few years ago I decided I was going to learn the real chorus. As I read the lyrics, I discovered that they were listing surfing beaches. Not only that, I had been to many of those beaches, or at least knew where they were and had driven past in the last year or so. I was living in a Beach Boys song.

In a nutshell, that's what makes this place so special to me. We do have an endless summer, with 80-degree days in December and sunshine almost every day. I've always loved the ocean, and now I can be at the beach with my toes in the sand in 10 minutes. I love the craziness of the beach on a big summer weekend. But more than that, I love the quieter months when I can enjoy the waves without the crowds. That's why I love my homeland.

Lessons Learned in Europe

2009-09-02T23:53:00.000-07:00

My sister is a rock. She kept me from completely panicking on more than one occasion.
I do not react well to cigarette smoke.
Guidebooks are just opinions.
Don't fly Ryanair out of Ciampiano.
Spaniards are very enthusiastic people.
Three museums in one day is kind of insane, but doable.
You can get by just fine by pointing at menu items. Hand gestures work too.
The Pantheon and Eiffel Tower really do exist and are just as cool as you imagine they are.
A pear and two hot rolls don't count as breakfast and lunch.
Game shows are funnier if you don't understand them.
Maps are a good thing.
I don't know enough about history, art, music, or anything, really.
Food is better in its native country.
I like European chocolate, Gaudi, and Strauss.
Jet lag is crazy. Tylenol PM helps.
My sister and I look like sisters.
Metros and buses are awesome. Why don't we use them more here?
The world is an amazing place and I can't wait to see more.

A Realization

2009-08-06T23:09:00.000-07:00

Ever since I graduated from college, I've been in the process of becoming a grown up. Getting a real job. Insuring my own car. Having my own cell phone plan. Paying bills like cable and gas. Working on my birthday. Planning trips to Europe.

For some reason this trip has stressed me out considerably. I want it to go well. No, I want everything to be perfect, but I know that won't happen, so I'll settle for it going well. My sister, who I'm taking the trip with, has been busy with school and such, and we decided that it would be easier if everything were in my name anyways. So I bought the plane tickets and booked the hotels. All that grown up activity has made me weary of being a grown up.

Tonight I'm packing and stressing about packing too much or too little and making lists of things to do tomorrow (get cash, convert cash to Euros, buy power adapter, sort out credit card, mail a package to my mom, pay all bills...). I took a break for yogurt with a friend. I said I was tired of being a grown up. He said that it's better than the alternative (and he would know). And I realized something: it's not being a grown up that I'm tired of. I like the freedom and the money and the accountability of it. I'm tired of being a grown up alone.

Hey, Honey! What's the Latest Buzz?

2009-08-02T22:43:00.000-07:00

About a month ago, I heard a strange buzzing noise at work. I was in the office by myself that morning, so there was no one else to notice. There were some grounds crew guys using leaf blowers, so I assumed that's what I heard and wrote it off.

But the next day, it was back. Louder. And the next day. It wasn't a constant buzzing noise; just every once in a while. Enough to break my concentration and really annoy me. After about two weeks of that, I couldn't handle it any more. I felt a little silly complaining to the receptionist to have her complain to the powers that be about something so simple as an annoying buzzing, but it was loud enough that I could hear it above the music coming through my headphones. Too loud. My office mate has been watching all the seasons of Lost, so her theory was that it was the Others coming to get us. I had thought it was a little lost bee, but bees don't live that long.

Turns out I was sort of right. The next time the noise happened, I climbed up on the desk and payed attention. When the noise ended, something long, black, and yellow crawled out of a space in the corner where the window frame and wall meet. I emailed the receptionist again, this time telling her what was making the noise. She said they were going to send someone out to spray for the nasty critters.

Trouble is, they didn't go away. We could still hear them, building their nest, throwing wild rave parties... it got old. Friday, at the risk of becoming annoying myself for always complaining, I asked one more time if we could have someone come out. I even volunteered to show them where the bugs were getting in. Turns out they had sprayed, but they didn't have the right stuff to plug the hole, so the bugs got back in. So this time, they sprayed and filled the hole properly.

If I hear buzzing on Monday, I'm tearing open the wall myself. It will not be pretty.

Sometimes the Hardest Thing and the Right Thing Are the Same

2009-07-24T22:38:00.000-07:00

Last week, I got in my car Wednesday morning to go to work. I was already running a bit late (because I got up late, because I stayed up late...the story of my life). I piled my cousin, her tennis stuff, and myself in the car and was greeted by the empty light once the car was on. That stupid little light had been on the night before too, but I was too tired to do anything about it. So I pulled into the 76 on the corner to put a few bucks' worth in (the 76, while convenient, is overpriced). But then I discovered that I had left my wallet in another bag at home. I returned home, got my wallet, and returned to the corner gas station. This whole process added 15 minutes to my morning. Not the end of the world, but enough to really frustrate me for the rest of the day.

I told my dad about the whole thing while talking to my family on Sunday. He said "Well, look at it this way: you found out your wallet wasn't there when you were only a few blocks from home and still had enough gas to go back to get it. Had you tried to get farther down the road or to work, you would have been stranded with no wallet and no gas."

Sometimes things happen that seem like the worst thing ever. You get frustrated, upset, emotional. But given time and perspective, you see that maybe it's not so bad after all. Maybe this bad thing actually saved you from a worse thing. You just have to wait for that perspective to come.

Happiness is...

2009-04-05T01:19:00.001-07:00

* watching General Conference in your pajamas.
* sunshine and 70s on a Saturday.
* finding the perfect pair of brown shoes on sale at DSW.
* finally delivering birthday presents, even if they are over a month late.
* strawberry surfrider smoothies from Jamba Juice.
* being able to see out my car windows.
* daffodils.
* pizza and pizookies from BJ's.
* people who love me.

2009-03-01T19:45:00.000-08:00

I've had half a dozen posts in mind but haven't found time to write them out. Now that I have the time, I can't remember any of them. Very annoying. Oh wait! They're coming back to me. Kind of.

So we had a bonfire to burn my Christmas tree. We got a fire going in one pit (and by we, I mean my boyfriend...I didn't realize we'd need lighter fluid) and set the tree up in another. We were just waiting for my roommate to come join us before sending it off in a blaze of glory. All of a sudden there was a commotion behind us and we thought, "Oh, someone else had a tree too." Then we kept turning and realized that they had taken our tree and lit it off in their own pit. I was rather annoyed. However, the story has a silver lining. We still got to see the tree burn (except my roommate), albeit at a greater distance. The high school kids who stole it looked like idiots because it fell over and sent burning ash all over the beach, and it's always fun when high schoolers look like idiots. And finally, there was a group at the pit behind ours, and with the way the wind was blowing, we would have sent burning ash all over them, which would have made us look like idiots. So really, it all turned out okay.

I've also been thinking a lot about a scripture that I always thought was a "well, duh" principle. Alma 2:25 "Adam fell that men might be, and men are that they might have joy." Men are that they might have joy. We're supposed to be happy! This life is not meant to be some big trial to be endured in misery, waiting for the life after to be happy. Yes, there are hard things and sometimes we will be sad. But real, lasting joy exists in life too. So seek joy.

I was always one of those girls who never saw what the big deal with Valentine's Day was. My parents always spent it at home with us kids. They'd exchange cards, maybe make a heart-shaped pizza, and call it a night around 9. That seemed like a good way to spend the day to me. In college, I proudly wore my "single" shirt to the gym that day and attended more than one anti-valentine party, though out of a need for something to do that day, not out of bitterness. But now I've seen the light. Valentimes is serious times. This year, I got flowers, breakfast, a walk on the beach, a museum visit, and dinner on the Santa Monica pier. And having now experienced a real Valentine's Day, I don't think I can ever go back to my carefree days of not caring. Turns out it's awesome to be spoiled for a day.

Life is good, friends. Life is good.

If you see it once, you'll never be the same again

2009-01-19T23:09:00.000-08:00

I went to Vegas for the first time this weekend. Oh sure, I had driven through plenty of times, even spent the night at friends' houses...but I had never really been to Vegas. And let me say, it was quite a trip.

We started at the crack of before dawn so we could do a session at the Las Vegas temple (giving me three temples in three weeks). Late lunch was at Cafe Rio. I got my beloved pork salad, which is as addicting as the churros at Disneyland. By that time we could check in to the Bellagio for nap time.

View from our room

They upgraded us to the suite floor because they had run out of the room we were supposed to have. We certainly didn't complain about that. Not only did the bathroom have a phone, it had a TV. Even better, you could tune in to Channel 22 to hear the music for the fountain show. Definitely cool. "Dinner" was a crepe from Jean Philippe. They had this chocolate fountain that reminded me of Willy Wonka, only for grown-ups.

Then it was off to Love, which was fantastic. Trippy, but fantastic. My favorite was probably either the opening act of "Get Back" because of the people bungee jumping from the ceiling, or the part when they brought out two U-shaped ramps and four guys with rubber mop-head wigs did rollerblading tricks (sadly, I've already forgotten what song it was to). There was always so much visual stimuli...it was hard to know where to look.

We spent the rest of the night wandering various casinos, mocking hoochies in high heels and skimpy skirts, watching boats on the canal at the Venitian, and playing the penny slots. I lost a whole dollar in that endeavor.

Sunday morning we went to the spa. I learned that I like steam rooms, especially if they're infused with eucalyptus. Brunch was at the Hash House, where our food took f-o-r-e-v-e-r, which I really didn't handle well, having not eaten anything that day yet. Then we headed out in an attempt to beat the traffic (which we did, for the most part). And now...back to real life again.

I'm alive and I'm free. Who wouldn't wanna be me?

2009-01-04T21:35:00.000-08:00

Happy new year, everyone! I love the chance the start of a new year gives us to reflect on our lives. I've decided mine is pretty good.

I have a good job. Yes, it stressed me out a lot last year, but I like the work and the people. Oh, and a paycheck is always nice.

I have a place to live. My house, though a little chilly at night right now, is perfect for me. It also happens to be in southern California, which means I get to enjoy beautiful weather, the beach, and Disneyland.

I have a car. I managed to replace both sets of brakes, some steering column part, and a tire this year, but most of the time it works quite well.

I have a healthy body. I didn't take advantage of that as much as I should have last year, and intend to be better about that this year. (No, this is not an "I'm going to lose 10 pounds" resolution; it's an "I'm going to take better care of myself" resolution.)

I have a phone. Even though I was only without a phone for about 12 hours, I really missed that connection to my friends and family. If I couldn't talk to my family on a regular basis, I don't think I could handle being so far away.

I have money. Not in the sense that I'm loaded, but that I can afford to buy food and pay rent, with enough left over for things like trips to Washington DC and cameras.

I have good friends. They keep me sane. They make me laugh. They make me want to be a better person.

I have a loving family. My parents are incredibly supportive (even when I do crazy things like move to California). And my siblings are all amazing.

Most of all, I have a testimony of my Savior, Jesus Christ. I know He lives; I know He loves me. That makes everything worth it.

Things I've done in the past 48 hours

2008-11-22T08:43:00.000-08:00

Work: 18 hours*
Gone to the gym: 1.5 hours
Ate: 1.5 hours
Showered: .5 hours
Had TV night with friends: 2.5 hours
Midnight showing of Twilight: 3 hours
Attended my sister's swim meet: 3 hours
Disneyland: 6 hours
Slept: ...

* All times include transit time. I actually worked 16 hours.

Where the streets have no name

2008-11-16T22:08:00.000-08:00

I saw more of California this weekend than I ever wanted to. See?

View Larger Map

We were headed home from a camping trip and got horribly, horribly stuck because of two separate wildfires. For those not familiar with the area, we should have been able to take the 91 to the 55, which would have taken about 30 minutes from where we got stopped. Instead, we spent 2.5 hours driving all around Diamond Bar, La Habra, and I don't know where else, nor do I want to know.

Aside from that, it was an absolutely splendid weekend hanging out with friends around a campfire, climbing over rocks, and taking lots of pictures.

Yep, it was worth it.

Why I moved to California

2008-11-09T22:05:00.000-08:00

I have lost count of the number of times I've had some variation of the following conversation:

So, are you from around here?
No, I grew up in Wyoming.
Really? What brought you out here?
Work.

Occasionally, we go deeper and they discover that I had no connections here; it was only because I got the job. Then it becomes, "Really? You're so brave!" To which I reply, "I didn't really look at it that way. I was just doing what I wanted to do."

Let me 'splain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

My last semester in college, I wanted nothing more than to get the heck outta Dodge. I even had a sign on my wall that counted down the days until I could "leave this stupid town." Trouble was, I didn't have any place else to go. Home had family, but very few job or social opportunities. Salt Lake was almost as unappealing as Provo. So I found a place to live and got permission to keep my student job, thinking that by the end of the summer, I would have found a real job somewhere new and fabulous.

Then I interviewed for a job in Springville. I called my dad in tears after the interview because I knew I was going to get the job. He said, "Sweetie, that's a good thing! They're going to give you a job." "But it's in Provo!" I sobbed back. I wasn't upset about the job; I was frustrated because I knew that taking it was the right thing to do. Frustrated because it would mean staying where I was, which was contrary to my desires. Frustrated because I was afraid I would get stuck in Happy Valley, never to leave again, to end up as a crazy cat lady renting out my basement to students and dreaming of missed chances. But I knew it was what I was supposed to do, if not why it was, so I took it. For the next several months, the conversation went like this:

So, you're done with school, right? What are you still doing here?
ARGH! I have no idea.

I had signed up for Monster.com in my initial job search. Every week, they sent me an email with newly posted editorial jobs. Usually, I just deleted them without ever reading them, but every once in a while I'd open them up to see what was out there. I even sent out a few resumes, but nothing ever came of it. One night I read of an entry-level position in Irvine, California. Huh, I thought, California could be fun. So I sent in my resume.

A few days later, I was surprised by a phone call from the editor I had sent my resume to. I took and passed their editing test. I drove out one weekend to interview with the editor and the office manager. They called my references. And finally, they called and offered me the job. This time I didn't cry, but I had the same feeling that this was right.

I was reminded of that a few weeks ago when my office was interviewing for a new receptionist. The old receptionist, who has been promoted and is one of my friends, sat in on the interviews. They had one that didn't go so well. The office manager told my friend that this interview "was even worse than Mindy's." Apparently, I had an absolutely horrible interview, but they saw some sort of potential and my resume was good, so they offered me the job anyway. When my friend told me this, I was overwhelmed with a feeling that I am supposed to be here.

So that is why I moved to California. But this certainly helps:

How I came to be dressed like this for Halloween:

2008-11-02T10:13:00.000-08:00

It all started with this little guy.

We found him while going through the server room before the office move. Seeing prank possibilities, we moved him around the office for a few days, freaking people out (at first glance, he's very alive looking). One day, I wandered in at 8:30 as usual to find my officemates had decided to dress him up for Halloween. "We thought it would be funny to dress him up as a teenage mutant ninja turtle!" I agreed.

Except it didn't stop there. The next thing I know, the ringleader is saying, "Wouldn't it be funny if we dressed up like ninja turtles?" And for some reason, I agreed with that too. I then dazzled them with my intimate knowledge of all things ninja turtle, including who was what color. We sewed them on our lunch breaks this week (and managed in secrecy until Thursday, when everyone decided that our closed door really meant "come on in!"). We even managed to keep the turtle in the action as Splinter.

But the best part of the whole thing was our trip to Costco. We had to pick up our pizzas for the potluck lunch. Someone else was driving and offered to take us with him. So while he (and half our office) waited in line to check out, we stood at the front of the store holding two large pizza boxes and waving at all the little kids who walked by. It was awesome.

I'm not as young as I once was

2008-10-11T23:56:00.000-07:00

I spent the day at Knott's Berry Farm with some friends. I only got us lost once on the way there (seriously, the 5 north is so confusing if you're not paying attention). Some lady gave us a coupon so we all got in cheaper than we thought we would. Which was good, because a bunch of the big rides were closed. So lame! And by the end of the day, we had almost gotten over making comparisons to Disneyland.

Cons: absolutely no efficiency...on anything. Seriously, we had to wait forever for the rides go, and once the ride was over, we had to wait forever to get off. Disneyland's small army makes that place a well-oiled machine.

Pros: the longest we waited in any line was 20 minutes, and that was for the log ride. Why that line was so long on the coldest day of the autumn so far is beyond me. But we weren't complaining, because it meant we could go on more rides. Like the Pony Express, which would have been so much cooler if it had been longer. And we got to do my favorite ride twice.

The only problem with today: I'm not 16 any more. Back in the day, I could do theme parks like this for days and never feel a thing. Today, the Silver Bullet had me walking sideways for a few minutes after we got off. The Pony Express made it difficult to breathe. The evil hang-you-upside-down ride gave me a headache. So at the end of it all, all we wanted was a long nap and a couple of Advil.

When did I become old?

Recently rejected Facebook statuses

2008-10-08T22:36:00.000-07:00

Mindy...
has 3 versions of "Route 66" on her mp3 player.
needs a personal assistant/cook/trainer/maid.
smells like fixer.
should wear sensible shoes.
wants it to be fall.
knows she's more than just a little misunderstood.
needs more time in the day.
wishes she could rent children for a day.
is tired of being stressed out by things that shouldn't stress her out.

Keep your feet clean, you never know when one will end up in your mouth

2008-09-29T22:24:00.000-07:00

I feel like this blog has become like a long distance friend. At one time, we told each other everything. But now that we've become separated (by distance, circumstance, time, whatever), we feel like we have to have earthshattering news to break the silence. Anything short of an engagement announcement or kidney transplant seems so mundane in the broad outlook of our lives. And so, I have nothing particular to say today, but I'm posting anyway to remind my friend the blog that I'm alive.

I can't say no. That whole scene in 27 Dresses was like watching a documentary of my life (well, minus the drinking and being in a bar). Case in point: A few weeks ago, a guy tried to get my phone number because he wanted to go grab ice cream one night that week. I said no, I'm sorry, I'm busy. He tried again for the weekend. Again, no, sorry, I'm busy. (It was true too. I didn't have time to eat or sleep that week, let alone make small talk with a guy I don't know over calories I didn't need.) He tried one more time; I said no and got in my car. It didn't help that I thought he was this guy who just didn't remember his previous attempt. Driving away, I felt horrible. Of course, I learned a few days later that it wasn't him and really felt like an idiot. But you know what? Thinking he was the previous guy just gave me the courage to say no. Otherwise, I would have felt guilted into saying yes to something I really didn't want to do.

Guys aren't the only thing I can't say no to. I have the same problem at work, when I take on projects I don't have time for; with roommates, when they decide to paint the living room purple or buy a dog; even with friends, when I say yes to tubing trips I don't want to go on. Then I get all grouchy and snarly because I get stressed out. So I'm going to try an experiment: for the next week, I say no without feeling guilty.

Today I finally overcame trying to fit the world inside a picture frame

2008-09-03T21:36:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago I kind of lost it. We put a sign on our office door that said, "Whatever it is, the answer is no." And we meant it. So on Wednesday, I decided to run away. I booked a room at the Sheraton in downtown San Diego, and the thought of that big comfy bed in a room all by myself got me through the rest of the week.

The hotel was almost perfect. My one complaint was that I should have had a fantastic view of downtown San Diego from my balcony, but there was a huge eucalyptus tree in the way. I fell asleep watching the Olympics in bed. I had a wonderful time hanging out with a coworker and her boyfriend at the zoo on Saturday. I slept in. But what made my weekend was spending the morning in bed reading From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. It's one of my favorite books of all time, and that's saying a lot. It's about a girl who runs away from home...to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. That's my kind of running away. Anywhos, there's this bit at the end that struck me this time:

The adventure is over. Everything gets over, and nothing is ever enough. Except the part you carry with you. It's the same as going on vacation. Some people spend all their time on vacation taking pictures so that when they get home they can show their friends evidence that they had a good time. They don't pause to let the vacation enter inside of them and take that home.

It took me until Sunday afternoon, when I was back from San Diego and sitting in church, to figure out how to get the vacation inside me. All weekend what I had really been looking for was peace, so I filled the weekend with fun activities and long, hot bubble baths in attempt to relax. But I also knew that come Monday, I would just have to deal with everything again. And then I found my peace--in a place I've been hundreds of times before. Funny how that works.

The zoo was still wonderful.

These boots are made for walkin'

2008-08-12T21:53:00.000-07:00

It's been one of those weeks again. And yes, it's only Tuesday. The big project at work that has caused most of my stress this year now has a deadline of August 29. So if I snap at you in the next few weeks, it's nothing personal.

This isn't helping either:

On Sunday morning, my foot started hurting, like a joint needed to pop but couldn't. A lot like what happened to my other foot last year. Except this time I'm not training for a half marathon. I didn't drop anything on it or hit it or injure it in any way that I can remember. It just hurts.

My coworkers (the two that act like my "work parents") convinced me that I should go have it checked out. The doctor looked at it, said there was a little swelling, and prescribed an anti-inflammatory and a post-surgical boot. Unfortunately, the boot helps, so I think I'm stuck with it for the next week.

I don't want to grow up...

2008-08-07T20:26:00.000-07:00

I had an absolutely fantastic birthday. My momma sent me a wonderful birthday box that included the massaging pillow I picked out at Christmas (the reminders every month or so didn't hurt). At work I got a birthday bagel for breakfast and lunch at Lucille's. But the day really started at 5 when I left work for Disneyland. Best. Idea. Ever.

I got a nifty little happy birthday button, which meant that everyone wished me a happy birthday. This included ride operators, custodians, and even a few random park guests. If you have gutsy, persistent friends, the button can even help get you on rides faster. And forget blowing out candles; I got to wish on fireworks. So yeah. Great day.

Yesterday I was wearing another birthday present: a cute teal polo shirt.

Except I caught a side glance of myself in the bathroom and really saw this:

Apparently 10+ years later, nothing has changed besides the braces.

Belief is a powerful armor

2008-08-03T10:32:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about this post, and how I want to say it, and how to make myself come across right. And I'm not done thinking about it, but it's time to put something down on the digital paper.

I'm going to start with a story. It's from General Conference back when I was in high school. Elder Busche tells the story of a man he knew who had recently started a job with a small, private company. The company was having a dinner party that was sure to become a drinking party. This man was worried about the drinking, but he also didn't want to offend his boss by not attending the party at all.

When I saw him again, after that dinner event occurred, I saw him with a most happy, deep inner glow, and he could not wait to tell me what had happened. Because he was new in the company, the boss had sat right next to him, wanting to get to know him better. As the evening progressed, the brother saw his wildest fears confirmed because the boss would not tolerate that he would not drink beer with him, and he said, "What kind of church is that that would not permit you to drink even a glass of beer with me?"

The fear of my friend did not grow into panic as he was able to calmly answer his boss that the reason he was not drinking had nothing to do with the church that he belonged to, but that he himself had made a sacred covenant with God that he would not drink. If he would ever break this covenant, how could he continue to stay true to that which he would ever promise, and how could he be trusted, even by his employer, that he would not lie or steal or cheat.

According to my friend, the owner was deeply touched by this statement, and he hugged him, speaking words of profound admiration and confidence.

As a high schooler just starting to figure things out on my own, I remember this story really struck a chord for me. I had been told since Primary that I needed to find out for myself, needed to have my own testimony. But it had never occurred to me that it wasn't about what my religion told me I couldn't do; it was about my covenant with the Lord that I wouldn't do those things. This knowledge has spread to all aspects of the gospel for me, to the point that I do know for myself.

The reason this has been on my mind recently is Prop 8. How do I explain to people why I feel the way I do? And then I remembered this story. So here's the deal: we have been counseled to support this measure. I have studied and prayed, and as a result, I know I need to support it. And that part of me supporting it involves writing blog posts like this. But that's me. The rest of you will have to figure it out for yourselves.

So if I'm flying solo, at least I'm flying free

2008-07-28T22:45:00.000-07:00

I went to see The Dark Knight on Saturday (a week after the rest of the world, I know). Because everyone and their dog had already seen it, I had very little response to my "Anyone want to see this movie today?" text. I resolved that I would see it by myself if need be, because I really didn't want more of the movie spoiled. However, one brave soul said he'd see it again, so off we went. After 45 minutes of movie, he leaned over and said, "I'll be right back." Another 30 minutes later, I began to wonder because he still wasn't back. I mean, I didn't smell or anything. During a lull in the action (not an easy thing to find in that movie), I sent a "You ok?" text, but got no answer. However, I drove, so I knew he couldn't have gone too far. So I sat and finished the show. As soon as the lights came on, he came running up from the front of the theater saying he hadn't been able to find me in the dark and had ended up in front of me instead.

And that's how, despite my best efforts, I ended up watching The Dark Knight by myself.

And this little weirdo would be a modestly hot girl

2008-07-19T16:42:00.000-07:00

So earlier this week my relatively new external hard drive decided to stop working. I did everything I knew of to fix it...which consisted of turning it off and back on in the hopes that it was all just some misunderstanding. It wasn't. I asked my brother for help, but he had a crazy week and didn't have time. Besides, long distance tech support rarely works for these sorts of things. I ended up getting help from the IT guy at work, but I realized something: I don't have any computer geek friends anymore.

I wasn't always like this. No, I once had lots of computer geek friends. How, you may ask? Simple: I advertised.

It started in the summer of 2003. My first boyfriend and I had just broken up, and I discovered that I didn't know any guys in my ward anymore. Inspired by stories from my roommate of the benefits of a group of guys to hang out with, I decided I wanted guy friends. One Sunday afternoon, in a rather silly mood, I put a sign on our front door. "Wanted: Guys apartment to be male companions for 4 beautiful women. Must be willing to hang out, swap an occasional Sunday dinner, and listen to our problems when needed. Experience preferred, but willing to train. Please bring a resume to Apartment 108 or call 371-6658."

I figured we might get a few comments, but nothing more. Instead, I got a resume. So I wrote up an acceptance letter, and Apartment 108, Inc. was born. For the next round of resumes, we required samples of their baking skills. The new recruits were accepted based on the excellence of their cheesecake.

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. That summer, we hiked Timp at midnight. We played frisbee. We ate a lot of popsicles and chocolate ice cream. We logged more hours playing Scum than working. And we didn't stop once school started. That year I became a 5th roommate (you know you have achieved this status when you start receiving phone calls at their apartment). I even met my next boyfriend through hanging out with them. They were some of the best guys I have ever known.

Alas, the youthful days when I would do something as crazy as putting a sign on my front door advertising for guy friends are past. Though if anything technical breaks again, I may be tempted to try again. 'Cause after all, a girl can always use a friend.

I Got a Peaceful, Easy Feeling

2008-07-09T19:57:00.000-07:00

...and I know you won't let me down.

I was out running last night (don't be impressed; it was the first time in about a month), and all of a sudden I was singing this song. And it was true. I don't know what it was about yesterday, but I was in a fantastic mood. Life was good. And it all crystallized after a half mile. I just felt like everything was going to turn out. The run, this morning, my life. Everything. It was so cool.

And I don't have much of a point beyond that. I love life, life loves me.

I'm such a girl sometimes

2008-07-02T21:47:00.000-07:00

You know how they say bad things come in threes? Number two was pretty good...

So I'm driving on the freeway Monday night after picking a friend up at the airport. The car kinda starts to wobble, but I thought it was just the road we were on. I slow down, but that didn't help much. My friend asked if I could smell something burning and suggested the brakes, which it wasn't. After another minute, I decided something was wrong, but still no idea what it was. So I thought I'd just check it out once I got to my friend's house. Which was my plan...

...until I looked in the rearview mirror and saw smoke and a disturbing orange-ish glow.

So yeah, I pulled over. Better late than never, right?

I called AAA, they came out and put the donut on, and I continued on my merry way. Slowly. Two days later, a brand-new tire is on (that I didn't have to pay for because the first was still under warranty), and life is back to normal. Well, as normal as my life ever gets.

I just hope number three comes quickly so I can get it over with.

and the waiting is the hardest part

2008-06-25T21:02:00.001-07:00

So tonight at the library (yes, I was there again), I realized I have no patience. None. Ever since I got my new camera, I have been trying to learn everything I can about photography. Today, I was returning two photography books and ended up with three more. It was almost four, but I restrained myself. Learning is obviously a good thing, but I want to know it all now. I want to be able to just turn my camera on and take pictures like this or this or this or...

...all the while discounting the years and years of study and practice and hard work that went into those photographs.

And so tonight I am practicing patience as I take a million pictures of sunflowers and my purse and other random objects. And maybe, just maybe...someday they will amount to something.

Madam libraaaaarian

2008-06-15T20:46:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking recently on my love affair with libraries. This love can't really be explained. There's just something about seeing all of those books lined up that makes me want to read them all. Even the boring ones. When I worked as a custodian, the library took me the longest to vacuum because I would get distracted by all the books. The first time I saw Groundhog Day, I felt that if I got stuck in one day forever like that, I would spend it at the library reading. I love libraries. There is something magical in the READ posters and tall shelves that go on forever and the smell of books. This magic can be found in some degree at bookstores, but it's a shallower, flashier magic. Bookstores have their place, but libraries are my true love.

I can remember the basic layout of our library in Idaho. I would wander into the "big kids" section and get books like Mrs. Pigglewiggle and Ramona Quimby, Age 8. I thought I was ridiculously cool.

Our library in Wyoming was even better. The kid's section had neon lights and a fort you could climb up to read in. Of course, by the time they had that all done, I had outgrown the kid's section and was reading mostly from the adult and young adult books. I read the Redwall books and The Hero and the Crown and everything by Mary Stewart. I loved library days, especially in the summer. I would always come out with an armfull of books (seriously...sometimes I couldn't hold them all). But they had to last me for the next three weeks, when everything was due and the cycle would start again. The hard part was trying to figure out what to read first. I had a system--save the series for last, because if I didn't have the next book, three weeks was too long to wait to get it.

Then came the dark ages known as "freshman year." All of a sudden I had to actually study. Even worse, the library became a place only for study. Yes, there were millions of books in it, but they all dealt with boring, nonfiction topics. But at the end of my sophomore year, a miracle happened: my boyfriend took me to the Provo library. The relationship with the boy didn't work out, but the library and I remained on very friendly terms. I read The Killer Angels and The Bourne Identity and more science fiction than you can shake a stick at. Most of all, I loved the building itself and the history it represented.

And now I have a new library to love, just down the street. When I'm feeling particularly adventurous, I drive over to the main branch. I still wander into the big kids section because I love young adult books. I've moved on from science fiction, but I still love mysteries. And I still come out with an armfull of books.

Only in Newport Beach...

2008-06-08T22:10:00.000-07:00

...can you walk out of a movie and feel underdressed. Last week some friends and I went to see Indiana Jones. We walked out to a sea of women dressed to the nines. Heels, designer labels, and looooooooooong legs were everywhere. It took us about 15 seconds to make the connection that Sex and the City was opening that night. We just felt sorry for the one poor man who appeared to be there with his wife.

...can you see a string of Porsches and not question it until the 10th one or so. Apparently Huntington Beach had some sort of Porsche convention going last weekend. It's just funny to me that my first thought was "Hmm...that's a lot of Porsches" rather than "Hey look! A Porsche!" I ain't in Wyoming anymore.

Drama, drama, drama

2008-06-08T22:02:00.000-07:00

I am so over drama. You would think that with four adult women in one house it wouldn't be so difficult (but then again, I've seen enough reality TV to know that age has nothing to do with it). I'm mad that I'm the "bad guy" to some of my roommates right now. I hate that our living room has become a no-man's land that we cross only to leave the house or sneak into the kitchen (which is neutral so long as no one else is out there). I think it's stupid we're even having this disagreement. Living with girls is so overrated.

Vacation, all I ever wanted

2008-06-01T10:04:00.000-07:00

I had an absolutely fabulous time in DC. I was totally exhausted at the end of every day, but it was so worth it. We managed to fit a lot into four and a half days:

* Mt. Vernon, where we went on the National Treasure tour. No secret tunnels, but we did get to see the basement. We also saw Washington's dentures and the Lincolns' china (theirs was the prettiest of the presidential china). The bus trip out there was made interesting by the bus driver pulling over at McDonald's so he could use the bathroom. We all just looked at each other like, "Is he serious?" He was.

* The memorials at night. Korea is incredibly eerie that way--really cool. Also, Vietnam is impressive when you have all of the biker vets hugging each other there.

* Arlington National Cemetery. Apparently I picked a good weekend to go because it's the only time they allow flags on the graves. And the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown was incredibly moving. It was like watching a choreographed dance.

* The Memorial Day concert on the lawn of the Capitol Building. We heard Gladys Knight, Idina Menzel (Elphaba on Broadway), and Sarah Brightman. I also got some really cool shots of the Capitol Building while we were waiting in the security line...for 45 minutes. Still no idea why it took so long.

* The National Archives, where we saw the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, and the Magna Charta. It seems I entertain myself by taking pictures, because I also ended up with a bunch of this building because we had to wait in a security line again.

* The Memorial Day parade. The highlight for me was seeing the nurse from this picture.

* The Museum of Natural History. I loved seeing the Hope Diamond, but my favorite part was the live butterfly exhibit. The pretty purple butterfly I wanted to take a picture of came and landed on the back of my leg. There are now pictures of my backside all over the country.

* The National Portrait Gallery. The presidents were cool, but I was also a fan of the modern art piece that was supposed to be an enchanted forest (we think). Really, we just sat there so long because once we sat down, we couldn't get back up again.

* Dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe, which I had never eaten at (any of them...I know, I lead a sad, depraved life).

* The National Museum of Women in the Arts, which was the only museum we read all of the little descriptions at because we were trying to figure out what it all meant. It didn't help. The tag for the movie of the girl crawling through Seoul on a small, flat scooter actually confused us more. Modern art is really just not my thing.

* A staff-led tour of the Capitol Building (thanks Chase!). I loved the Rotunda and the old Senate room. And we got to ride the underground subway cars that the Senators use.

* The Library of Congress. Books. Lots of books. This was my favorite building. Kerri laughed at me, saying she'd never seen anyone so excited about a library before. But how could I not get worked up about the Gutenberg Bible? Because of that book, the modern world can read. I think that's huge. Thomas Jefferson's library was also really impressive. That man was interested in everything.

* The Air and Space Museum, which did us a favor by staying open late Tuesday night, so I could see more than just the main hall.

* The memorials in the day. Aside from the obnoxious small children there on field trips, I enjoyed this a lot. We even found Einstein.

* Even better, I got to spend time with a friend I don't get to see too often anymore (I know, it's my own fault for moving to California), and I got a break from normal life.

This concludes my interesting-only-to-me travel log. Stay tuned for irregularly scheduled blog posts.

Giddy up, we're homeward bound

2008-05-14T21:39:00.000-07:00

Went out for a run tonight without my mp3 player. Usually I have a song with a decent beat stuck in my head anyway, so it's not a problem. Not so tonight. So I thought of my standby song. It's a song I learned back in preschool about a...carriage ride. Trust me, it makes no sense. But the song isn't my point this evening.

Back when I was in seventh grade, I decided to join the cross country team. Probably because my friends were doing it. It certainly wasn't because I was any good. If I got tired, I stopped and walked, which happened every 400 meters or so. Though that might not have been a bad thing. My running style was more of a hop than a forward stride--I actually walked faster than I ran.

The Saturday before our first race, my mom took me out to the park to go through the course. As we went, she offered suggestions for how to get through the race, including singing this song in my head as I ran. We sang it together as I huffed and puffed along, shaking seed pods to the beat.

But like I said, it's not about the song. It's about the love. I didn't learn anything about endurance running that day. But I learned I was important to my mom. And every week when I talk to her, I know I still am. So happy Mother's Day, Momma. I love you.

Things that made me laugh tonight

2008-05-11T22:11:00.000-07:00

I went for a walk around Balboa Island tonight to try out the new camera and to just get out of the house. For an island that isn't very big, there's sure a lot of crazy stuff there.

I've also created a new blog to show off some of my pictures. Brownie points to anyone who gets the title.

And finally, proof that this camera is magic: it even takes good pictures of me.

Thank goodness it's the weekend

2008-05-11T21:41:00.000-07:00

So this was another long week. I had to bust out the blueberry juice and classical music again...and it was only Tuesday. But Friday dawned with the promise of good things.

My mood was almost squelched by an idiotic semi driver who decided to take up both turning lanes, making me wait through the light twice. As I was grumbling in my head about it once I finally made it to the freeway, who should I see but the same semi truck. Only now he had been pulled over by the highway patrol. Yes, even at 8:20 a.m., the universe was smiling on me.

My next good turn was the arrival of my new toy. Though this was a mixed blessing because I had a section I had to get done that day, and it's hard to focus when you feel like a kid on Christmas morning who's just been told you have to clean your room before you can open presents. I lasted until lunch.

My first attempt.

Lunch also brought Sprinkles cupcakes "for all of your hard work." Ignoring the hard workout at the gym that its consumption would require, I ate an entire red velvet cupcake. A sugar coma ensued. The coma was furthered by the chair massage later that afternoon (also "because you've been working so hard"...I think they know the whole office is starting to go crazy). She spent the whole time trying to unknot my shoulders. With more time, she could have succeeded.

The rest of the weekend was fabulous as well. I got a trip to Atomic to feel both attractive and incompetent (someday I will learn the lindy hop). I also got to hug Mickey at the happiest place on earth (seriously, it's not possible to walk down Main Street without grinning). And today I heard some excellent talks on faith, hope, and charity, and our musical number actually went quite well, considering we only started practicing yesterday.

Monday might actually be bearable.

I just want you to know who I am

2008-04-27T21:28:00.000-07:00

So I've been thinking recently of how my emotional state is often reflected in the music I listen to at any given time. There was the summer after I broke up with my first boyfriend where I listened to six or seven Dashboard Confessional songs nonstop (mostly because that was all we had ripped to our work computer, but also because they fit my mood). The next break up is associated with Norah Jones and Good Charlotte. And the happiness of the next crush will always be tied up with Tim McGraw. Oldies, particularly the Beach Boys, are for summer. Hymns and the Out of Africa soundtrack are for Sundays. My musical taste isn't particularly deep, but I think it represents me accurately.

My current musical phase is a new one...I seem to be stuck on the Goo Goo Dolls and classical music, alternating between "Iris" and "Moonlight Sonata." The Goo Goo Dolls makes sense; I tend towards adult alternative as a general rule. However, I have never in my life sought out classical music. Now I'm going out of my way to buy it. The CD I've listened to most in the past few weeks is a corny-looking compilation CD I picked up at Target called love:beethoven.

Because this is uncharted musical territory, I have no idea what this mood means. I'd like to pretend it's a result of some new-found maturity, but really, I think it's because I've discovered it helps me relax. For now, I'll just be content that it keeps me out of the loony bin.

These boots are made for walkin'

2008-04-17T00:13:00.000-07:00

So I have a confession: I am a shoe girl. I remember being 14 and reading an article at the dentist's office about how Celine Dion had 500 pairs of shoes and thinking how cool that would be. My own shoe collection is far from that--I just counted 15 pairs in active rotation, with another 10 that hang out in my closet and I hardly ever wear and I really should just donate them to DI or something. But a girl has to have options. There are three things holding me back from expanding much further:

1. Space. They're already on the back of my bedroom door and in one of those hanging storage cubby things in my closet. And on the closet floor (boots do not fit in the cubbies, turns out). There's nowhere else for them to go.

2. Money. I'm ridiculously cheap. As in, if it's more than $30, it had better be the best darn pair of shoes ever.

3. Size. I wear a size 10. This wouldn't be so bad if I were a bit taller (my sister managed to stop at a 9 and she's an inch or so taller. Life is not fair), but 5'6" is all I got. And not only are they huge--they're square. Like, Barney Rubble feet.

I've figured out how to solve the first two problems. But I think I'm stuck with the third. If we could only get that silly pointy-toed nonsense to go away, I might stand a chance.

Am I that transparent?

2008-04-05T09:18:00.000-07:00

You know things are bad when the guy checking you out at Trader Joe's asks in a it-would-be-patronizing-if-he-weren't-sincere voice, "How was your day?" My answer was simple: "It's done." He told me I looked exhausted and suggested that I switch from sparkling blueberry juice to 200-proof wine. I laughed and said thanks but no thanks. He wished me a good night on my way out the door.

It was a very long week.

I figured something out this week. Being super busy does not stress me out; I think I work better under the pressure of a big deadline. Nope, what sends me over the edge is lots of little nagging deadlines. This week I was super busy and instead of being able to finish what I needed to, I had to spend the whole week dealing with all the other crap people asked for last minute. Even if I didn't have time to edit their stuff, I had to find someone else to do it, and the coordination was just as distracting. I know it's not their fault; most of the people who made these requests had no more control over their timing than I did, and all were apologetic. But after a week of that, it's no wonder I ended up spending Friday night in bed with a bowl of Mimi's corn chowder, a glass of sparkling blueberry juice, and a back covered in IcyHot to try to ease the knots. TGIF indeed.

If you are what you say you are, a superstar...

2008-04-03T22:19:00.000-07:00

I've decided that road trips are required to have theme songs. Thanks to Ali, I haven't been able to get "Superstar" out of my head all week. If only I knew the lyrics and not just the general chorus. Guess we should have listened to it more ;)

So Pismo Beach was fantastic. Beautiful scenery, great friends, and tons of junk food. I had a really great time hanging out with people I don't hang out with often, just sitting around a fire and talking. I had never been to that area, so it was fun to see more of the coast and this crazy state I now call home (though I still don't think of myself as being from California. Not sure when that will kick in). I got my picture taken with a burrito in a hammock. We attempted to hide a goose in someone's tent, but even the "special" goose was too smart for that. We cruised the beach...literally. We piled 14 campfire-smelling people into a Mexican restaurant up the road from the campsite (some kid asked his mom where all those people were going. We told him we were going out to dinner. That got us some weird looks). I missed out on the full Pismo experience because I didn't have a bowl of clam chowder, but I don't like seafood in general, so I'm okay with that. And I still have one question:

Why do guys sleep on cement? When given the choice between dirt and cement, it seems to me that dirt would be more comfortable (not that dirt is all that great...my back is still out of sorts). But seriously...how is the picnic table a viable option for sleeping?

It's not like I'm not trying, 'cause I'll give anyone a shot once

2008-03-19T23:57:00.000-07:00

Actual conversation at tutoring last night with a woman old enough to be my mother:

"So, are you going to get married soon?"
"Um, no. I need a boyfriend first."
"Why don't you have one? You're so smart and beautiful?"
(I-don't-know shrug)
"What is these boys' problem?"
"If I knew that, I'd have one."

And now for the follow-up question: why is there no good way to say, "No, I'm not dating anyone, but I'd like to be," without sounding desperate and a little crazy? Can we get someone on that?

My thoughts are scattered and they're cloudy

2008-03-06T22:01:00.000-08:00

These should probably be separate posts, but I'm feeling too lazy to do that. So instead you get bits and pieces of what's been bouncing around my brain recently.

* After church on Sunday, everyone was gathering in the chapel to break our fast before eating. I was handing in my tithing to the first counselor in the bishopric when he said, "Are you dating anyone?" I said no, but that I had been on a date this year, which was better than last year. So he and the second counselor decided that they would help me out. One offered to get up at the microphone to let everyone know how wonderful I was (I vetoed that one). So instead he had me sit next to him and asked if I was interested in anyone. Feeling a little weird about checking out guys with a member of the bishopric, I said no (but really, there isn't anyone. I looked). He said that was okay, I could just sit up on the stand so they could check me out. He later introduced me to a new guy in the ward and congratulated me on sitting with boys while eating. I've been set up by grandparents before, but having the bishopric trying to find me a date was a new experience.

* Saturday I went for a great run out along the bluffs. The sun finally broke through the clouds, and it was a 70-degree paradise. Seriously, I live in one of the greatest places ever. But my favorite was the little kid I heard telling his sister not to touch anything because it was all "poison oak" and "poison ivy."

* I finally convinced my friends that I'm human by having an emotional breakdown and yelling at them. Glad we got that detail cleared up.

* Tonight as I was out running errands, I noticed a bug attempting to escape my car through the windshield. I rolled down the window and tried to shoo it out. The bug was not deterred; he simply moved to the other side of the windshield. So I opened the window on that side. Finally I had every possible window open, but the bug wouldn't have any of it. He could see out the windshield; therefore, that should be his exit. And then I accidentally got too close and squished him. Sometimes I think I'm like the bug--I can see what I want, and I'm going to beat myself against any barrier in my way until I get it. But if I would only step back, I would see the many other, better opportunities waiting for me. And I should take them before I get squished.

I'm a hazard to myself, don't let me get me

2008-02-24T22:41:00.000-08:00

So last Tuesday I was talking with some coworkers about how I've never been to the emergency room. No broken bones, no stitches, nothing. Their first reaction was that I haven't truly lived, but I have scars to prove I have. The next reaction was to be impressed. "I mean, you're really clumsy, aren't you?"

Indeed I am. I set out to prove that that night. I was opening a door and got my thumb caught in the door handle, which produced this little beauty:

Two minutes later I was crossing my legs and kicked the bottom of the chair next to me, which produced another bruise that didn't photograph well. I also managed to trip over my laptop cord, pulling it off the desk (luckily it's still working properly...).

Basically, when I do end up in the emergency room, it's gonna be good.

A Realization

2008-02-20T18:56:00.000-08:00

I am Elizabeth Bennett. Almost everybody's here: Jane, Charlotte, Mr. Collins. Wickham and Lydia have made themselves very apparent recently. I just need one more:

In the words of Ali: 6 feet tall, 6 figures please.

Maybe I'm not but you're all I got left to believe in

2008-02-16T08:32:00.000-08:00

...Don't give up on me, I'm about to come alive.

The voices are at it still. They all say give up now. Even the internal one when it's being honest. I have cried and yelled and pushed myself to exhaustion and the answer is still the same. And I hate it.

So please understand that my make-believe ending--the one that I know deep down is not true--is what's keeping me sane right now. Don't take that away from me.

i just do what the voices tell me to

2008-02-03T22:55:00.000-08:00

So a lot of people have been giving me advice recently. I'm not complaining--their advice comes out of love, and in most cases, I have asked for it directly. But now their contradictions and cross-examinations are buzzing around my head. I'm inclined to give some bits of advice more creedence than others, but if I get any more (and I know I will), the voices may just start to take over.

However, it has occurred to me that there is one source that will always be right. He always has my best interests at heart, and He definitely knows what he's doing. And so long as I'm not out on some street corner hawking my wares, I know that I'm not really going to screw up my life.

Everything turns out all right in the end. If it's not all right, it's not the end.

Dear boys again,

2008-01-31T22:51:00.000-08:00

Thank you.

Cars should come with owner's manuals. Oh wait...

2008-01-27T22:22:00.000-08:00

So when I got back from Christmas, my car's battery was dead. The nice man from AAA explained that car batteries were not meant to last 6 years and replaced it for me.

Two weeks later, the fog lights turned on without me actually turning them on. While I was driving, while the car was parked, even after I shut them off they turned on again. Not wanting to kill yet another battery, I pulled the fuse until I could get it in to a mechanic.

The mechanic at the dealership explained that I needed a new switch, whatever that means, and that it would be about $350. I was expecting that, so no big deal. However, when he returned to tell me my car was ready, he also told me that I needed new brakes (and a new caliper and rotors). For $780, he could do that too. Luckily for me, he had to order in the caliper, so I didn't say yes right away. As he brought my car back to me, he said, "Didn't you see the brake light?"

Okay, so that light has been on for at least a year. However, I just assumed that the sensor was broken and ignored it. After this conversation I looked in the owner's manual and it turns out that light being on means you should have your brakes checked as soon as possible. Who knew?

$780 was still a lot of money, so I got a second opinion. Good thing I did, because I was able to get new brakes and rotors for $400 less. Hooray for helpful friends and family who told me I was getting ripped off and helped me find another mechanic.

So now I have spent nearly $1,000 on my car this year. And it's not even February yet.

Dear boys,

2008-01-13T01:39:00.000-08:00

I don't care that you say you're emotionally stunted/socially retarded/whatever other crap excuse you're using today. Grow up, deal with it, and start dating.

2008-01-09T19:31:00.000-08:00

So I just read Stargirl. It's your standard teenage be-yourself-no-matter-what-other-people-think story. But my favorite part of the book was that this girl expressed herself by caring about other people. She read the obituaries and birth announcements. She knew where every bulletin board in town was. She cheered for both teams at basketball teams, and didn't understand why this got her excluded by her peers. Basically, she believed that everyone deserved to be celebrated.

All of this reminded me of my freshman orientation. They had us all gathered on DT field. The counselors told us that everyone deserved a standing ovation sometimes. So they told us to ask for one. All you had to do was shout, "I want a standing ovation!" You got mobbed and cheered by anyone close by. Throughout orientation weekend, this happened pretty regularly. It even carried over into that first semester. But then, as all trends do, it died out.

Wouldn't it be cool if you could get a "standing ovation" whenever you want? You ace a test; you need a pick me up; you have no reason but you feel like a million bucks. I think it's a fantastic idea.

One year older and wiser too

2008-01-02T20:39:00.000-08:00

Things I have learned recently:
1. Flying with the flu is definitely not fun. But hey, you can give your seatmates a funny story to tell their grandchildren.
2. Wyoming is windy and cold.
3. I am a hazard to myself. In the course of a week at home, I had a bruise on my knee from Mom's steering wheel, bruises from ice skates, and a blister from my walking shoes. My sister says I should stay in bed to prevent further injury.
4. Sewing is still a very frustrating process.
5. Car batteries are not meant to last 6 years. Also, if they are that old and you leave your car sitting around undriven for 10 days, the battery will die. Hooray for Dad and AAA.
6. Disneyland with a ton of people and no fireworks isn't much fun. Watching the ball drop on TV with a tub of Ben & Jerry's is much better.
7. Candy-coated peanuts and banana mints are not a balanced meal.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

2007-12-27T22:29:00.000-08:00

So a few weeks ago at FHE we talked about what we want for Christmas. There were several digital cameras, an iPod, and the like. When it was my turn, I said I wanted snow for Christmas. Amazingly enough, Santa delivered:

Hope you all had a merry Christmas wherever you may be.

How To Make Friends and Influence People

2007-12-16T22:38:00.000-08:00

So, last month I cut my hair short.

Two weeks ago, the Relief Society president cut her hair short.

This week, the second counselor cut her hair short.

The secretary swears she won't do anything of the sort.

And all of this becomes moot in a month when the president moves to Utah, but it's funny right now.

If only I could use this power on guys...

You really shouldn't have

2007-12-08T09:28:00.000-08:00

"So, I found you a boy last night, and I'm pretty sure he's Mormon."

My coworker and her 85-year-old mother went out to buy a tree. It seems that in the process, they were helped by "the nicest guy." Now when most people buy a tree, they walk onto the lot, pick one, pay for it, and leave. Not her. Somehow she managed to get his whole life story, including the fact that his dad played football at BYU (which lead to the conclusion that this guy is Mormon). So, in addition to his alleged religious status, she told me he played football himself; he's tall dark and handsome; and he is currently at the Paul Michelle hair dressing school (but is not effeminate or gay). Oh, and my coworker thought it would be awkward to mention me at all.

Call me crazy, but there has got to be an easier way to meet people besides hanging around tree lots trying to figure out which guy sold a tree to my coworker Tuesday night with nothing but that description to go on.

By small and simple things

2007-12-04T21:11:00.000-08:00

So last summer while we were trying not to melt in Boston, we stopped at a mall kiosk selling zipper purses. We were quickly approached by the kiosk salesman, who being the smarmy salesman type, struck up a conversation.

"Where are you ladies from...CIN-ci-na-ti?"
"No, we're from Wyoming."
"Oh. I do not know where CIN-ci-na-ti is, but I like to say it."

He told us he would cut us a deal if we sang him a song from where we were from. So my mom, sister, and I launched into "Home on the Range." Then of course to get the price he was offering, we had to buy 4. Then if we bought one more he would give us one free. He kept saying, "What about little Suzy in Wyoming? She needs a Christmas present!" We ended up with six coin purses and a really fun memory.

So on Saturday when I misplaced mine at Target, I was more upset about the purse than what was inside (not money; I use mine to hold chapstick and nail clippers and other flotsam that ends up in the bottom of my purse). I knew it was dumb, but the purse was a tangible reminder of my experience on that trip.

So as corny as it sounds, I said a little prayer that someone would find it and turn it in to customer service. And someone did.

"And now what evidence have ye that there is no God, or that Christ cometh not? I say unto you that ye have none, save it be your word only. But, behold, I have all things as a testimony that these things are true; and ye also have all things as a testimony unto you that they are true; and will ye deny them?"

Things that make me awesome

2007-11-16T20:10:00.000-08:00

* I just fixed my wireless network all by myself. Okay, I used the trouble-shooting website. But no geek squad, no computer nerd friends, no tech support in India. Even better, everyone in the house can now get on the network.

* I fixed a schedule not only by adding all the lines, but by noticing that it went from July to September. That may not make sense to anyone else, but it made the project manager happy.

Okay, so that's all I got. But I'm pretty excited about the network. Internet is a beautiful thing.

Label the available

2007-11-13T22:52:00.000-08:00

People should come with warning labels. I'm tired of flirting with guys who turn out to be married (or engaged or dating seriously or otherwise taken). I'm tired of thinking a guy is into me only to find out he's that nice to everyone. Maybe this girl had it right.

P.S. -- How awesome is it that you can access all those old Letters to the Editor? I just found out and it's pretty much the coolest thing ever.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

2007-11-08T21:22:00.000-08:00

Me, 7:45 a.m. today:

Me, 7:45 p.m. today:

Life's a journey; enjoy the ride

2007-11-04T22:23:00.000-08:00

Yesterday my papa turned 50. I, being the respectful daughter that I am, bought him an Old Guys Rule t-shirt. He, being my papa, loved it. Today when I called to talk to the family in general, the first thing he told me is that he's 50. I said he was taking it remarkably well. I loved his answer: "Well, the only alternative to being old is being dead." That's my dad. Having a bad attitude isn't an option. I like to think I picked up some of that optimism, though I haven't perfected mine as well as he has.

Other reasons I think my dad is the greatest:
* He eats ice cream with a fork. You could always tell when dad had gotten into the ice cream on his lunch break because of all the little fork marks. We as kids used this to our advantage--if we ate with a fork too, we could always blame him for sneaking into it. Oh, and he always has to test the ice cream to see if it's "poisoned." It always is, so he generously offers to eat it for us so we don't have to suffer.

* He introduced me to the Muppets and the Beach Boys. As a result, I was the only 8 year old on the planet who thought that the Beach Boys were better than New Kids on the Block (which they are, but no 8 year old thinks that). He also got me hooked on BYU football by taking me to the 1996 BYU vs. Texas A&M game.

* He is an incredible example of service. It seems like he's always getting called in to help people move or give blessings or anything else he's asked to do. He's always done his home teaching too, which is something I admire as an adult attempting to visit teach.

* He's always willing to listen. I remember calling him one Friday afternoon when I was having a really hard time at school. He listened to be cry and complain for a good hour while I'm sure he had other things to do. He handled a lot of late-night panic I-can't-do-this calls too. He also listened to my beanie baby business plan, my "nobody will ever love me" post break-up whining, and my crazy idea about moving to California.

Happy birthday, Dad!

Nothing but sincerity reaching out as far as the eye can see

2007-10-28T22:27:00.000-07:00

I went to a pumpkin patch last night for the first time since I was...well, I don't remember the last time, so I'm sure I was quite young. First we explored the corn maze.

This was the first maze I had been to with living corn. And because it was living (and probably because it was a ridiculously small and simple maze), they wouldn't let you cut through. Anywhere someone had tried, they had put up signs saying "Farmer Kenny is sad because someone couldn't stay on the path." Farmer Kenny was sad a lot.

The pumpkins themselves were pretty picked over. There were some really cool bright orange ones that would have been awesome in a black light, but they were all mushy so we didn't get any of those. We did find lots of others that we liked.

We finally narrowed it down to one each (with the encouragement of the staff, who wanted us to leave because it was getting dark. They had to check us out by lantern light.)

Then off to carve! I hate the scooping out part, but the carving itself is detail-oriented enough that I like it. Here's the results:

Mine is the tall skinny one. It's my tribute to Twilight. (The guy has a pointy vampire tooth, in case that's not clear in the photo. My friends were teasing me about my x-rated pumpkin.)

So now that I've carved a pumpkin, I'm officially over Halloween and ready to move on to Thanksgiving. Who's with me?

World on fire

2007-10-28T22:15:00.000-07:00

This week was interesting. The smoke made my eyes itch and throat sore and head hurt. But because I was not one of the nearly 1,000,000 people evacuated, I knew that it could be worse. So I tried to keep the complaining down.

Other weird things happened. For some reason, I didn't get tired at night. I stayed up until 1 at least twice without even realizing it because my body never said "you're being an idiot; go to sleep!" Even weirder, I wasn't tired during the day either.

And have you ever noticed how when you can't do something, it makes you want to do it? Last week I had to force myself to the gym, and only made it twice. This week I couldn't because of the smoke, and all I wanted to do was go running.

The worst day was Wednesday. Headache + cramps + who knows what else = grouchy Mindy. I spent the morning apologizing to everyone because I knew I was being rude and horrid but I couldn't stop. I hated it. And then, that afternoon my mood just lifted. I didn't do anything; all of a sudden I realized I didn't want to yell at people anymore. I was still a little unsure of myself, so I went to Institute rather than Bunco (better a dark classroom where I wouldn't talk to anyone than a group of friends I might offend). And that helped too.

And now the smoke has started to clear. Here's hoping this week will be much better.

Serving as an example for small children

2007-10-15T23:23:00.000-07:00

So I went to Disneyland this weekend (I have a pass now! I can go whenever I want! I love Southern California!). We decided to go on Splash Mountain. My friend ducked out because she didn't like the drop and she thought we were going to get wet. The two of us going on the ride said she was being ridiculous.

She was right.

I was dripping at the end of it. The people behind me in the next line made some snide comment, so I responded and we chatted a little. When I turned around, my dry friend told me that some mother had passed us, pointed at me, and said, "See that lady? That's why you can't go on Splash Mountain," to her kids.

So I have found my true calling in life: being an example of what not to do at theme parks.

We're on a need to know basis, and you don't need to know

2007-10-09T21:02:00.000-07:00

Last week I remembered why I don't tell my parents everything. It's not because I'm not trying to be devious or untruthful. I just learned at a young age that there are certain things they just don't need to know.

Example A: Conversation with Dad 1
Dad: Doing anything this weekend?
Me: I'm going to a Pat Monahan concert.
Dad: Who?
Me: Most people haven't heard of him. He's the lead singer of Train.
Dad: Who?
Me: Drops of Jupiter? Meet Virginia?
Dad: Trains go on tracks and go "toot-toot."
This is the mild version of my parental editing: they just don't understand sometimes.

Example B: Conversation with Dad 2
Dad: So how was the concert?
Me: It was really fun. I enjoyed the House of Blues.
Dad: Why's that?
Me: It's standing room only, everyone just packed in with everyone.
Dad: What if there was a fire? An emergency?
Me: There were exits.
Dad: Well, you said standing room only...
Me: I just meant there weren't chairs. It was a big hall.
This is the main reason: they worry.

I also remembered why I don't really tell my parents about boys I like, my eating habits, and how much sleep I get. They worry. And when they worry, I worry about worrying them. So why tell them?

2007-10-02T22:54:00.000-07:00

I had an absolutely fabulous weekend hanging out with my sister. My one complaint was the snow. In SEPTEMBER.

And people wonder why I moved to Southern California.

Today it took me 50 minutes to go 3.3 miles because some idiot stole a car and turned the road I needed to be on into a police scene.

And people wonder why I don't want to live in Southern California forever.

She's not afriad, she just likes to use a night light

2007-09-24T19:26:00.000-07:00

So I was punching holes in a document today, listening to music and generally pretending the rest of the world wasn't there. I punched one set and turned to put it in my done pile. And then there was a spider in my face. A real one. I screamed like a little girl. Luckily I am a girl, or that could have been really embarrassing.

Girls don't like boys, girls like cars and money

2007-09-20T22:10:00.000-07:00

So we were talking at lunch the other day about our "office move" next year. This move makes most people happy, for we will be much closer to where they live. It makes me unhappy because it will be farther away from where I live (I realize that it's not that far, but when it only takes you 10 minutes to get to work every day, another 10 doubles your commute time). And now that they've got the temperature figured out (turns out the vent wasn't attached to the thermostat so it just blew full blast all the time), I rather like our current office.

I groaned dramatically, so everyone at the table decided to convince me that this move will be a good thing.

"You can go shopping at the Spectrum!"
Great. Target will get an even bigger cut of my paycheck.

"You can eat at Panera!"
Isn't my current visit every Friday at lunch good enough?

But my favorite was this: "There are boys there!"
I had no witty reply to this. I had to give up and just laugh.

So if I end up moving in a year, you'll know why. It's because of the boys.

Things I learned today...

2007-09-12T22:51:00.000-07:00

1. In the Constitution, it's "unalienable," not "inalienable," when talking about Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.

2. A package of Twizlers Nibs is not a part of a balanced breakfast.

3. Calling your coworker a "grumpy old man" at 8:30 in the morning is a bad idea. (He gives me crap about being young, so we're even. . . usually.)

4. Target doesn't sell the cool windowshades that I have in my car anymore.

5. A 19-year-old boy knows a lot more about suffering than I do, yet he has a better attitude about it.

6. My knee still hates me.

7. Tomatoes are actually pretty good in sandwiches and such(don't tell my mom about that one).

What's cooler than bein' cool?

2007-09-06T22:22:00.000-07:00

This weekend was on the warm side. To the point that I took myself to see Pirates of the Caribbean 3 over Ocean's 13 because it meant 3 hours in an air conditioned theater rather than just 2 (it also conveniently kept me out until the house party I was trying to avoid ended). To the point that I spent a good portion of Monday in a pool/in a wet swimming suit because it was cooler. To the point that I was looking forward to returning to work because it's usually cold in my office.
Unfortunately, my office was rather warm when I entered Tuesday morning. We actually went outside to cool down at lunch. Wednesday it had cooled down again; I made good use of the sweatshirt I keep on the back of my chair for just such an occasion.
Today my office was an ice box. Since I refuse to wear thermals and sweaters in summer, we found an alternative.

Two large manila envelopes, packing tape, and a tall coworker, and voila! Our very own air deflector, sure to last at least a few months, at which point we'll be tearing it down to let the heat in because we're cold.

Suddenly I See

2007-08-27T22:51:00.000-07:00

I've been neglecting my beloved Pearl recently. Between being out of town a lot and basic laziness, it had been months since she had had a bath. And thanks to the marine layer that rolls in every night, the grime was quite thick.

So last Tuesday I threw in the towel and took it to a car wash. But not just any car wash--it was the kind where you hand over your keys and the magical elves bring it back 30 minutes later all sparkly and clean. I'd never been to such a car wash before (I'm from Wyoming...they just don't exist there) because it seemed like cheating. In my family, the only time you don't wash your car yourself is when it's too cold. And that's only when it's really dirty.

Friends, it was the best $17 I've ever spent on that car. The elves even managed to remove the grime on my rims that had been there for years. Not only did they vacuum, they dusted the dashboard. But the best part was when I got in and discovered I could actually see out the windows.

At that point I realized I had been putting up with inferior conditions. I was reminded of a quote that I thought I remembered from Conference but I can't find right now that says something to the effect of "we live far below our spiritual potential." Around the same time, I'd had several spiritual experiences that, like my car, reminded me that I could have so much better. I just wasn't putting in the effort.

Of course, life can't be all uplifting, amazing experiences. It rained on Sunday; my car is now dirty. I get caught up in work and friends and fun; I loose some of the peace I found. But the memory of the good is newer. And at least one of these things can be fixed by a quick trip to the magical elves again.

I'm your recent acquisition, time to celebrate me

2007-08-21T20:47:00.000-07:00

Proof that I really am better now: Yesterday I discovered that someone had thrown out/eaten my leftover burrito. I had been looking forward to finishing it all weekend (I forgot it in the fridge on Friday). Those coworkers gathered with me in the kitchen tried to console me.

"Maybe they were just cleaning out the fridge" Nice try, but no. In my frantic search through the shelves, I found several pieces of moldy fruit that DEFINITELY should have gone before my burrito.

"Maybe they just didn't know whose it was." I wrote my name on the top. And there were several other styrofoam containers that weren't labeled at all.

I was mad for about 5 minutes as I nibbled at the yogurt I had also left in the fridge. And then I was over it. Okay, not entirely, because I'm still writing about it a day later. But it didn't ruin my day; it became the most interesting thing that happened.

Life's a journey, enjoy the ride.

Don't it always seem to go...

2007-08-16T22:34:00.001-07:00

They blocked streaming radio at work this week. Most of the time, I bring my mp3 player so it's not a big deal. But there are days when I forget, and I've built quite a collection of good stations at Pandora. And I'll have to kick my Chunga and Mister habit now too (hey, they're funnier than anything in L.A.).

Last night I went to the library and got a crusty look from the librarian when I flip-flopped my way back to the young adult novels. I figured it was for the noise. Only on my way out did I notice the small sign at the entrance that the children's room was for children under 12 and their caregivers only.

What's up with one or two people ruining stuff for everyone else?

Happy is what happens when all your dreams come true

2007-08-10T22:31:00.000-07:00

So tonight, while trying to convince myself that "choosing" to be alone was better than outright rejection, Becoming Jane became the fourth movie I've ever cried in. The other three are Moulin Rouge!, Ladder 49, and Kate and Leopold (don't ask).

There was once a time when I was strictly a happy ending sort of girl. I wanted to know how things end, and I wanted them to end well. I've never really liked Romeo and Juliet, Gone with the Wind was good until the end, and I absolutely hated The Perfect Storm.

"But, then one day, the girl grew up and went beyond the walls of the grounds and found the world." In effect, I finally had the opportunity to live those chick flicks (at least on some level...). But unlike those movies, none of these relationships had a happy ending. Suddenly, My Best Friend's Wedding had a perfectly acceptable ending.

For various reasons, I've spent most of this week feeling 14 again. I think that's why I had such a strong reaction tonight. Normal me loved the movie; young me was ridiculously upset that true love didn't conquer all. Young me is winning the battle tonight, but normal me will win the war.

Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end.

The gentle island

2007-08-08T19:26:00.000-07:00

I just had an amazing vacation (why don't we call it holiday like the British? It sounds so much more sophisticated.).

We spent a day visiting the College of Piping and the French/Acadian part of the island (including authentic food in the community center cafe).

We spent a day paying homage to the local literary heroine (I wish I had the picture of my sister and I dressed as Anne and Matthew...maybe when I get it from my mom). Turns out Gilbert Blythe is a little young, but still cute.

We spent a day wandering Charlottetown, including a few hours in a blessedly air conditioned theater. We also went to a ceilidh with an amazing fiddler.

We also ate ice cream every day and slept in and ate microwaved steak and got overheated in Boston and in general enjoyed ourselves thoroughly.

The end.

Carry On!

2007-07-25T22:32:00.000-07:00

Made it back from the family reunion. I really didn't want to come back 'cause everyone else is still there, but that's the price I pay for taking off all of next week to play in Canada. Over the years, I've built up a lot of memories from these events. For some reason, they seem to fall on/near my birthday, so that's what I associate them with.

The year I was 10, we borrowed a cabin near Panguitch Lake, Utah. We had been there all of 20 minutes when my cousin and I went to play in the creek outside. Suddenly she started screaming, and I discovered a water snake crawling over my foot. I refused to go anywhere near the creek or the field beyond for the rest of the week. The only exception was when they dragged me out to play medieval games (Huzzah!). I was also considered old enough to attend A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Cedar City Shakespeare Festival, which remains my favorite of his plays. I believe this was also the year that I threw a book at my dad's head from the backseat because I wasn't getting my way, but my aunt would have to confirm that. It's her favorite story about me.

The year I was 12, I spent a good portion of my time being bitter about not getting to stay up with the adults and being young in general. Case in point: I signed the quilt we made my grandparents as Mindy, age 11 and 11/12. I also remember this as the year my uncle was a buyer for a grocery chain, which meant he brought lots of candy samples. I also learned that my grandpa liked his cantelope with salt and pepper.

The year I was 14, we did the pioneer heritage tour, starting at Chimney Rock, Nebraska. We had cheesecake to celebrate my birthday a few days early; I dyed my strawberry topping purple (I would have dyed everyone else's too, but my mom wouldn't let me). I spent the evening of my actual birthday stuck in a trailer in the pouring rain with just my immediate family while the rest of the family got to stay in a hotel. To my teenage self, this was vastly unfair. They did stick a match in a Snickers bar and sing to me again.

The year I was 16, we rented a cabin at Bear Lake. We had airplane races off the balcony and rented waverunners. But the best part of this one for me was seeing the graves of my ancestors and seeing the old homestead where my great-grandpa was born. My aunt also let me drive her car now that I had a license, making her the coolest aunt ever.

I missed the one when I was 18, and the two when I was 20 and 22 kind of blend together. Both were in Heber. The first had family olympics on my birthday. Other than that, all I really remember is that my parents let me borrow the car so I could work half days. The second was a big event: my grandparent's 50th anniversary (which also happens to be my birthday). I was prepared to let my birthday be a small affair, but was pleasantly surprised by cake, singing, and lots of presents (including my Hello Kitty desk set, which is my mom's idea of a good joke). The adults spent the morning in the temple, while we took the rest of the cousins to see The Testaments. My favorite part of this reunion was the family testimony meeting. Lots of tissues for that.

This last reunion followed the grand tradition. There was the fun of watching my mom do a llama dance in support of her kickball team (named for the llama herd grazing the lawn of the lodge we stayed at) or hearing my marathon-runner uncle describe lunch as calorie replacement. There was usually at least one person reading Harry Potter 7. We had pioneer games (Carry on!) and a huge sourdough pancake breakfast to celebrate Pioneer Day. But this was also the first reunion without Grandpa. We had FHE on Monday to remember him. I think it was good for everyone, especially me. I felt his love, which I needed.

So here's to all those crazy people lucky enough to be related to me. I love you guys!

Someday this will all be hiliarious...

2007-07-21T22:08:00.000-07:00

So when I picked up the t-shirts on Thursday, the guy pulled one out to show me what he meant by "jagged lines." Silly me, thinking he meant that the image was horribly pixelated and would be printed as such, boxy outlines instead of my nice smooth ones. No, of course he would mean that the image looked hand drawn, the lines not entirely straight or uniform thickness.

Nerd.

I calmly explained that I was going for the hand-drawn effect, thanked him, and walked out with my exactly-what-I-wanted shirts. I'm just glad it's over.

How I spent my Saturday

2007-07-17T18:00:00.000-07:00

Before:

6.5 hours, 2 cans of varnish remover, 16 vinyl gloves, and 2 N*Sync CDs later (old shelf included for contrast/to block glare):

Next project:

2007-07-12T22:06:00.000-07:00

A random series of (what I find) hilarious moments of my evening.

* I was walking through Target when a loud voice says "You're from Wyoming...and you painted my house!" Huh? A few clueless blinks later, I figure out it's the lady who's house we painted for Neighbors to Neighbors a few months ago. Apparently I made a distinct impression (or the fact that I was wearing the free t-shirt they gave us that morning helped (I was "on my way running")). She repeated the Wyoming bit, smiled, and we parted ways.

* Does anyone else feel empowered by Home Depot? There's something about walking around that place that makes me feel like I can do anything. Of course, now that I've spent $40 on stuff to refinish a bookcase, I actually have to do the work. (Assuming, of course, that I find someone with a truck willing to transport the bookcases to my garage Saturday morning.)

* I'm headed home, windows down, Shania Twain BLASTING on the radio. I'm singing just as loud as she is until I pull up at a stop light and the two guys in the car next to me start whistling. Considering that these were two old, creepy Hispanic guys, this was not flattering. And of course, the light took f-o-r-e-v-e-r to change.

* And now I should probably go deal with the Level 5 hurricane damage in my bedroom. But instead I'm going to sit here and watch Scrubs reruns.

Under Pressure, or Why I Need to Run More

2007-07-08T10:51:00.000-07:00

I have been incredibly stressed the past two weeks. There's been a lot to be stressed about. The lead editor of the big project I've been helping with went on vacation, so I got to be responsible for printing a 2,000 page document (I would have been in charge of most of those details anyways though. It just would have been nice to have her around as backup support.). I volunteered myself to be in charge of the t-shirts for our family reunion in two weeks (have you ever tried to get 25 people to agree on color, fit, and size?). And last week my grandpa died, so I had to make sudden arrangements to attend the funeral (on top of the general grieving stress).

All of this came to a head around 4:30 on Friday afternoon. In the proofing phase of the document, we discovered that about 20% of the graphics were wrong (our fault, not the printers). The t-shirt designs weren't coming through clearly, so they couldn't print. And my head was ready to explode. My coworker very kindly talked me through the worst of my hysteria (I was literally ready to cry), and Mike put things in perspective for me. The stress subsided a little.

But what really did it for me was the run I had when I finally made it home (at 7:30). It was like that Propel commercial--the one with the giant metal thing running through the streets that pieces fall off of until you see just the guy. I realized that in all of this stress, I had neglected to do anything physical. Heck, most days I wasn't even feeding myself properly. No wonder I felt like crap.

So I hereby make this declaration that I will not let my situation get that bad ever again. I will make running a priority. Because this week reminded me that I run not for exercise, but for stress relief.

Just when I thought you couldn't get any dumber, you go and do something like this... and totally redeem yourself!

2007-07-05T23:25:00.000-07:00

The world redeemed itself today.

The last time I flew, the nerds who searched my bag broke one of my favorite earrings. I can see how it could happen (it was sandwiched between two shirts and in their rummaging it ended up next to the zipper/bottom), but still, I was mad. I went back to Old Navy (where I bought them), but the earrings were no longer in stock.

And then today I just happened to wander into Old Navy and they had them in stock again! Even better, they were on sale.

Life is good, friends.

Why is it...

2007-07-04T23:42:00.000-07:00

...that waterproof mascara is anything but waterproof EXCEPT when you're trying to take it off?

...that a cupcake tastes so much better at the beach (though this goes for almost anything)?

...that drunk people are so funny?

...that bicycles hurt your butt so much?

...that the cute ones are always taken?

...that I'm still up writing this when I should have been asleep hours ago?

Happy Fourth, ya'll.

To whom it may concern:

2007-06-26T23:44:00.000-07:00

I would like to request that you drop this "Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim" business. It is causing my mother undue worry in my behalf. As evidence, I offer this transcript of a conversation I had with her Saturday night, after I called her from the parking lot (someone should look into that too):

"So are you still in the parking lot?"
"No, I'm trying to find my way back to the freeway."
"Oh, are you in a really bad part of L.A.?"
"Umm...no. I'm nowhere near L.A. I just had to turn right out of the parking lot instead of left, which led directly to the freeway. Now I'm headed toward a different on-ramp."

Clearly, this situation has gotten out of hand. My mother worries about me enough, what with my non-existent dating life and all. I do not need her to think I'm wandering lost through the slums of Los Angeles.

I suggest you revise the team name to the "Anaheim Angels." Simple, direct, and self-explanitory.

Thank you for your consideration in this matter. I look forward to a speedy resolution.

Life is short so go on and live it, 'cause the chicks dig it

2007-06-21T20:52:00.000-07:00

So last week I was on the couch, remote in hand, ready to watch the results show of So You Think You Can Dance. Then the TV flipped out, and all I could get were Spanish channels. Because I'm lazy, I didn't do anything about it until yesterday (in the back of my mind, I thought it would just sort itself out). So I call the cable company and they agree to send someone out. When the guy came, he fiddled with things for a few minutes before it all magically came back. Turns out there was nothing wrong with the signal, some setting got off on the TV itself. The cable guy was at least kind enough to cancel the request so that I won't get charged (I hope...we'll see when the bill comes in).

This experience made me wish, for the millionth time, that I had a boy around. Not only would this boy be able to fix my TV, he would unclog my shower, fix my washing machine, and make the emergency brake light go away in my car. According to Mike, "man skills" such as these are not valued enough by women. I, for one, completely disagree.

Man skills are hot.

This is not to say that I want to marry a plumber. I think President Hinckley had it right when he said, "We speak of being 'equally yoked.' That applies, I think, to the matter of education." I just want that educationally equally yoked to be able to fix a few things around the house.

I do not think this is such a ridiculous request. I have been told since I was a Merrie Miss in primary that it was necessary for me to gain certain skills becuase I would need them in my future home. This is why I had Mutual nights where I learned how to iron a shirt, sew on a button, and cook a meal for twelve. I do not resent this training; it's actually quite useful.

So men, dig out those long-lost boy scout lessons and get to work. You can start with my shower.

Humor: editor style

2007-06-13T22:17:00.000-07:00

Eye halve a spelling chequer
It came with my pea sea
It plainly marques four my revue
Miss steaks eye kin knot sea.

Eye have run this poem threw it
I am shore your pleased two no
Its letter perfect awl the weigh
My chequer tolled me sew.

When I was in junior high, our typing/computers/whatever teacher had this poem above his chalkboard. I thought of it then what I think of it now: incredibly corny, but it has a point. Spell checkers will never replace a human being. Observe the following examples*, which are not nearly as over-the-top but are much funnier.

Screenline: A line across parallel roadways that defines a zone of analysts.
Now, this zone of analysts are posing as sagebrush, while this group represents the jackrabbits...

The sheet filed with our map shows our special dispensation under the ordinance because of the graphic nature of our design.
An X-rated parking lot, coming to a shopping center near you.

The compost site currently receives 200-tons of material per day, which is processed into compost and mulch for use on organic farms, gardeners, landscapers, and public agencies.
I can see the adds now: Organic compost--garden-fresh skin in just 5 days!

*These are actual examples taken from real documents. Details have been changed to protect the innocent. All are included here in good fun--I know I'm certainly not above a typo or two myself.

Learning to Fly

2007-06-06T20:30:00.000-07:00

So turns out that if you don't fly the first half of a round-trip ticket, the airline will cancel the second half for you. I learned this when I showed up at the airport and handed my ID to the lady at the check-in counter. Three people later, they finally figured out that their system couldn't let them check me in because the ticket was cancelled. The next response was that I needed to talk to Travelocity because it was their ticket. Luckily, the supervisor was able to apply the money from the first ticket to a new, one-way ticket back to California. She just couldn't get that ticket until the next night. So I called my office and left a message explaining what happened and why I wouldn't be there the next day. And I got to spend another night with my family. So it all worked out in the end.

Also, because I had a one-way ticket both ways, I got the full body and bag search. Not fun.

And the award for idiot of the year goes to…

2007-05-28T09:26:00.000-07:00

Short story: I bought a plane ticket for Sunday, not Thursday, which would have meant missing my brother’s homecoming talk, which was half the point of coming home. Changing the ticket would have cost $600 (I only paid $500 for the original ticket), which was out of the question. So my solution was to buy a new ticket to Salt Lake and drive up with my grandparents.

Long story: So there I was at work, humming to myself because I was so excited to go home. I glanced down at my itinerary as I was putting it away and noticed that it said Sunday, May 27, not Thursday, May 24. Must be a mistake, I thought. So I log onto Travelocity. Nope, not a mistake (at least not theirs). I started panicking (short of breath, shaking, the whole nine yards... my coworker describes this really well). I could not wait until Sunday. So I call Delta, who tells me that it will be $600 to switch my flight. My dad had conveniently lost his cell phone and wasn’t answering his office phone. I had to hunt down my mom at school to break the bad news and try to come up with a better solution. She suggested calling Travelocity. They said it would be $650, plus their $80 fee. Ouch. I don’t have that kind of money, especially for a ticket that I already bought. In talking about this whole mess with the same coworker, she offhandedly said, “Well, you could always drive home like you did at Christmas.” That’s when the little light bulb went on. My grandparents would be driving to my house from Spanish Fork the next day. So I bought a last-minute (and still overpriced, but way cheaper than $600) one-way ticket to Salt Lake and spent the next day in a car. My grandpa even refrained from asking me if there are any nice young men in my ward, and they let me drive the last section. So I still made it home in time to hear him speak.

Moral: Always always always triple check travel arraingements. And then do it once more just for good measure.

I hate to say I told you so...

2007-05-20T22:06:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I was lying in bed trying to convince myself that I really did need to get up. There's a tree just outside my window, and the birds were having their own version of American Idol. I thought, Wouldn't it be fun to put up a birdfeeder? This thought, like many that early in the morning, soon passed.

About a week later, a coworker began telling me about all the cool birds she's seen at her feeder recently. Once again, I thought it would be fun to put up a birdfeeder. I walked back to my office and told the other editor my plan.

"Oh, you don't want to do that. You'll just be feeding the rats."

I explained that this would be up high, where the rats couldn't get to it. She just gave me this "Fine, don't listen to me" look and we moved on.

The next weekend I went out and bought a birdfeeder. I put it up under the eaves of my house, close to the tree so the cute little birds would feel protected. I figured it wouldn't be long before they were swarming to my window.

I was wrong. Several weeks went by, and the level of seeds didn't change. I could hear the birds in the tree, but never saw any at my feeder.

Saturday morning, there was a huge commotion outside my window. Something was rustling around in the dead leaves. I thought it was the cat we've seen in our garage a few times.

I was wrong again.

Needless to say, the birdfeeder is no longer outside my window.

*I would like to point out the two mice in the background of this photo. There was a whole extended family out there. It was absolutely disgusting.

Meglio Stasera, baby, go, go, go!

2007-05-12T00:47:00.000-07:00

Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you had made a different choice? This has been a recurring idea in my life the past few weeks, and I'm starting to wonder why. Ali and I were talking about it tonight. It also popped up when I listened to the new Michael Buble CD. For some reason, the second song took me back to a time in college when I liked two boys at once. Of course, I liked one of them more than the other, but he wasn't quite as agressive as the second one. I distinctly remember one night when our ward was having a dance. I elected to stay home, thinking that the first guy would stay home too, and I could take him cookies or something (I was very young :) ). But as it turned out, the first guy went to the dance, and the second guy came over instead. I beat him at Trivial Pursuit and we ended up cuddling on the couch. Now, I'm not saying I would have ended up with the first guy (I know for a fact that he wanted me to date his best friend (who lived in St. George...like that was gonna happen)). However, I really wonder if I would have dated the second guy if that night hadn't happened.
I do not regret my decision. I learned a lot from that relationship (specifically, a lot of what I don't want). I remember that summer as one of the best times of my life. But I also look back and think, "What were you thinking, self? He was a loser and you knew it!"
Now I'm sitting here at 1 a.m. trying to think of a noncorny way to end this post without it rambling on for another paragraph or two. I suppose this will have to do:
*Basically, I have been reminded several times in the past few weeks that small choices have big consequences. This weirds me out. That's all.

I'm back! I'm back!

2007-05-09T22:22:00.000-07:00

You know that scene in Spiderman 2 when Peter Parker decides that he wants to be Spiderman again? So he takes a flying leap off a building, thinking his web is going to kick in and save him? And then he has to hobble away, groaing "My back! My back!"

That was me today, except it was a long run outside, not a building, and my knee, not my back. I'm still struggling with this small and steady business of getting back into running. Oh well. That's why they invented Aleve.

*for those of you concerned about my well being, I'm fine. My knee just gets a little sore when I try to run too far on it. I haven't actually had to take anything for it today.

Life is in the details

2007-05-09T22:03:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, I ended up on a plane with an old friend. He and I knew each other at BYU, and we've run into each other a few times since then. My favorite part was that we even worked it so that we could sit next to each other--both there and back again. Good times were had by all.

Anywhos, this friend decided he was done with accounting (and I frankly don't blame him), so he's off to Harvard to dress from J. Crew and look important while taking business classes. Which means he's having a going away party, which I made him promise to invite me too. Sure enough, last night I got a text from him. Party, his house, 7 p.m. blah blah blah. I had to text back to get his address, which he readily supplied with a "See you soon!"

So I finish dinner and head out. After working my way past the street fair, I find a really good parking spot and walk up to the door. Odd, I think. The house looks strangely empty. I open the door and say, "Hey man, happening party."

"Well, it's on Friday."

Huh?

I dig out my phone and actually read the text message. Sure enough, it says Friday night, not tonight.

My friend, gentleman that he is, invited me in anyway and we had a grand time wandering the street fair (though we didn't see the possum that lives in the creepy store front) and watching American Idol.

Oops.