Yes folks, you heard right. Today I'm 25 on the 25th. It's my GOLDEN BIRTHDAY! Not only is it my golden birthday but I'm also turning a quarter century old. (Whoa!) I've always been kind of a downer on my birthday...I don't know if its unmet expectations, or loneliness or worry over my age but for whatever reason I always get a little melancholy. BUT NOT THIS YEAR! This day is too epic to get the blues. So to really drive this home I've compiled a list that is a representation of the good things I've accumulated in my 25 years. On it you will find reasons I am happy, things that make me happy and things that I am grateful for.
So without further ado and in no particular order...
1. My Family (you know who you are.)
2. Friends. Seriously, I've always had really great friends. You guys mean a lot to me and have helped shape the person that I am.
3. A job. I hate you but I'm glad I have you. I'd be very sad, and poor(er), without you.
4. The fifth of the condo I occupy. You're nice. I'm positive I couldn't get better for the price I'm paying.
5. Cable television. Sad but true.(although I know I'd be more grateful for satellite)
6. The restored gospel. If this list was in order this would be at the top. Nothing in my life is more responsible for my health, happiness, sanity, peace etc. It is everything to me. (am I a totally terrible person that I listed this AFTER cable tv? I said it was in no particular order...)
7. Frozen yogurt. Really, you are all I need..
8. Muddy Buddies. If I can't have fro yo, I'll take you.
9. My Subaru. You ride smooth, you go fast, you get good gas mileage, and you look like a sporty, grown-up lady car.
10. hot showers
11. red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting. Only for special times.
12. to know what I'm worth and what I deserve (this I am continually learning is a rare thing. Thus making it very valuable.)
13. Peonies. They remind me of spring time, my birthday, and my Grandpa Don.
14. I'm grateful that I'm debt free. I don't think I even realize how great a blessing this is.
15. My dad, although I've been a reluctant learner and at times have doubted your credibility because you say damn and drink beer you've taught me so many practical things.
16. My mom, nobody in my life delivers a quicker dose of reality than you. Nobody loves me fiercer than you (like Tyra).
17. Sturdy bras ("it may be where God put them, but its not where he want them")
18. I'm grateful for Sarah telling me she loves me every time we get off the phone.
19. I'm grateful for Michael choosing to serve a mission.
20. Skin that tans well.
21. My skills in the kitchen that are growing and growing. I really find so much joy in taking beautiful wholesome raw materials and creating something that is so good and so good for you.
22. I'm grateful for the endurance to keep trying after I keep getting my nose pushed in the dirt by boys (men?) who won't give me a chance. I don't know how or why I'm able to brush it off but I'm so grateful I can.
23. Scrabble. Even though the only person that plays with me beats me every time. Its worth losing to still play with him.
24. My education. To some degree I am the sum of all the things I've learned.
25. To be 25. I'm so grateful to be young, single (yes, you heard me right) and to have the world at my feet. To go and do whatever I want, whenever I want with my past behind me, my future in front of me and enjoying the present as often as I can.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Hot Dads
So I went to the zoo today. I love the zoo. I didn't get to see the bears because their exhibit is being redone so they weren't there but I did get to see the baby elephant and the elusive gray wolf which made my day.
But there was another creature at the zoo today that I've never noticed before. There was some really attractive men there. There was one in particular that may have been the most attractive man I've ever seen.
And they were all pushing strollers.
F MINUS!
My friend suggested that maybe they were single dads. My luck is not that good. In fact my luck is horrible.
There are some girls that spend their weekends going on overnight trips to hot springs with attractive lawyers and then get taken to game 3 of the Jazz/Lakers series the next night.
I'm the kind of girl that stays home and bakes cookies for mother's day.
Ok. Pity party over. Those cookies won't bake themselves.
But there was another creature at the zoo today that I've never noticed before. There was some really attractive men there. There was one in particular that may have been the most attractive man I've ever seen.
And they were all pushing strollers.
F MINUS!
My friend suggested that maybe they were single dads. My luck is not that good. In fact my luck is horrible.
There are some girls that spend their weekends going on overnight trips to hot springs with attractive lawyers and then get taken to game 3 of the Jazz/Lakers series the next night.
I'm the kind of girl that stays home and bakes cookies for mother's day.
Ok. Pity party over. Those cookies won't bake themselves.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
The 100 Day Burpee Challenge
If you don't know what a burpee is look here and try not to be distracted by the very fit lady's fake boobs.
No, its not a soda drinking contest, no, they don't make me burp (but sometimes they make me do something else...), and yes, I know that a burpee doesn't technically include a push-up but for the sake of the challenge I'm doing the push-up.
At the beginning of the year I had a desire to get fit. This desire was shared by a friend of mine in OH. My friend was invited by his friend to do the challenge. My friend invited me.
The challenge is this: Starting February 8th with one burpee you add a burpee everyday for 100 days. Today, if you're curious is day 77. If you miss a day they have to be made up.
At first I had zero interest in doing this. I'm not competitive. For me fitness is more about your lifestyle and less about how many reps of an exercise you do. I'm not one of those slightly nutty people that need to run marathons just to see what there bodies can do. And I didn't want to commit to something I didn't really want to do.
And then I told a couple friends and roommates about it. They got excited. In theory its not that tough. If you can do one, you can do two. If you can do fifty-three, you can do fifty-four. I figured if I didn't have to do it alone and had friends to celebrate the mile markers (days 25, 50, 75) with it would be doable. Maybe even fun!
In practice though it gets a little tougher. Especially if you miss a day and have to double up on them. I'll save you the suspense and tell you that nobody made it with me past day 25.
I've kept at it for a couple reasons: 1. Because I committed to it. I wasn't excited about it but I promised myself I'd do it, I know I can do, so I'm just doing it. 2. I'm hoping for a good payoff as far as fitness is concerned and 3. I promised myself my first ever full body massage if I made it to day 100.
Going solo in the burpee challenge is like being a Mormon with a whole bunch of non-member friends who know your standards. Everyone polices you. Even if you wanted to you're not getting away with an R rated film, a curse word or a drink or a smoke. Nobody's letting me give up. Its kind of nice to have the encouragement. Until they start getting critical about my form. Telling me I'm not jumping high enough or pressing hard enough in my push-up. To them I say: Are YOU doing the burpee challenge? No? Then leave me be.
So is it paying off? Yeah it is. I noticed a difference in my arms almost immediately. They started getting tighter and even a little cut. When I measured a month ago I had gained an inch in my arms since I started. Which made me mad. That's not exactly what I wanted. I mean a girl that looks like she can lift a car over her head isn't exactly the look I'm going for but I'm in too deep now to quit. I next noticed my thighs getting tighter. Followed by my butt. And last but not least my middle is following suit. In fact I moved from the second to the third notch in my belt yesterday. Its not so much that I've gotten slimmer as I've gotten tighter which again isn't exactly what I wanted but its better than fat and soft yeah?
Anyway, I'm in the home stretch. 23 days. Except it'll be the hardest 23 days so far. Sigh. I've got that massage on the horizon though. Wish me luck. But don't bug me about how deep my push-up is please.
No, its not a soda drinking contest, no, they don't make me burp (but sometimes they make me do something else...), and yes, I know that a burpee doesn't technically include a push-up but for the sake of the challenge I'm doing the push-up.
At the beginning of the year I had a desire to get fit. This desire was shared by a friend of mine in OH. My friend was invited by his friend to do the challenge. My friend invited me.
The challenge is this: Starting February 8th with one burpee you add a burpee everyday for 100 days. Today, if you're curious is day 77. If you miss a day they have to be made up.
At first I had zero interest in doing this. I'm not competitive. For me fitness is more about your lifestyle and less about how many reps of an exercise you do. I'm not one of those slightly nutty people that need to run marathons just to see what there bodies can do. And I didn't want to commit to something I didn't really want to do.
And then I told a couple friends and roommates about it. They got excited. In theory its not that tough. If you can do one, you can do two. If you can do fifty-three, you can do fifty-four. I figured if I didn't have to do it alone and had friends to celebrate the mile markers (days 25, 50, 75) with it would be doable. Maybe even fun!
In practice though it gets a little tougher. Especially if you miss a day and have to double up on them. I'll save you the suspense and tell you that nobody made it with me past day 25.
I've kept at it for a couple reasons: 1. Because I committed to it. I wasn't excited about it but I promised myself I'd do it, I know I can do, so I'm just doing it. 2. I'm hoping for a good payoff as far as fitness is concerned and 3. I promised myself my first ever full body massage if I made it to day 100.
Going solo in the burpee challenge is like being a Mormon with a whole bunch of non-member friends who know your standards. Everyone polices you. Even if you wanted to you're not getting away with an R rated film, a curse word or a drink or a smoke. Nobody's letting me give up. Its kind of nice to have the encouragement. Until they start getting critical about my form. Telling me I'm not jumping high enough or pressing hard enough in my push-up. To them I say: Are YOU doing the burpee challenge? No? Then leave me be.
So is it paying off? Yeah it is. I noticed a difference in my arms almost immediately. They started getting tighter and even a little cut. When I measured a month ago I had gained an inch in my arms since I started. Which made me mad. That's not exactly what I wanted. I mean a girl that looks like she can lift a car over her head isn't exactly the look I'm going for but I'm in too deep now to quit. I next noticed my thighs getting tighter. Followed by my butt. And last but not least my middle is following suit. In fact I moved from the second to the third notch in my belt yesterday. Its not so much that I've gotten slimmer as I've gotten tighter which again isn't exactly what I wanted but its better than fat and soft yeah?
Anyway, I'm in the home stretch. 23 days. Except it'll be the hardest 23 days so far. Sigh. I've got that massage on the horizon though. Wish me luck. But don't bug me about how deep my push-up is please.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Where the pad hits the snow
I love to ski. Of this there is no doubt. Luckily, my dad put a pair of skis on me at a young enough age that my "You've got to be joking. There's no way I'm doing that" reflex hadn't kicked in yet (which if you were curious was at about 5 yrs old). I was never very serious about it due to lack of funds, gear and skill until my senior senior year (5th year) of college got a little depressing. All my best friends had graduated and left me alone in freezing cold Logan and I had broken up with a guy who I was still in a ward with who insisted being a total jerk to me. I needed a distraction. And I chose skiing.
I got my own gear for Christmas and I signed up for USU's skiing class at Beaver Mountain which for $100 got me six lessons and six half day's worth of skiing. This was a game changer. Skiing suddenly went from something I did because I grew up at the foot of the Rockies and my dad was paying to something I really loved and was pretty good at.
The class I was in at Beaver Mountain consisted of three girls and one shy, slightly stout young man with a brand new pair of nice skis. Our instructor was a good-looking, middle-aged guy who did something a couple days a week that earned him enough money to ski whenever he wanted. On our last day of class we had arranged to have a little potluck at the top of the mountain (I brought muddy buddies of course). We rode the lift and skied a little ways down to a spot where the run curved and flattened out. My instructor demonstrated how to stick our skis straight up in the snow so that it made a chair back when you sat on the snow. The three girls got there skis in the ground in a jiff and promptly plopped down and started passing the food around. Our instructor busied himself with a piece of gear. After a bit I noticed that the guy in our class had put his skis in the snow but had moved away from us a little bit. He was holding and looking at one of his bare hands. Then I noticed the red drops in the snow.
I asked if he was alright. Turns out he put his skis in the snow using his bare hands and the brand new sharp edge of his brand new skis had sliced him right in the soft skin between two of his fingers. Someone suggested holding some snow on it to stop the bleeding. He picked a chunk up and held in between his fingers and it was instantly red. It was really bleeding. It wasn't long before the area around us looked like a small helpless animal had lost a fight with a less helpless animal with big teeth.
My instructor started checking his pockets for a band aid (although I think we knew a band aid wasn't going to cut it) but he came up empty. I started brainstorming what piece of gear (hat, gator) I could sacrifice for the cause when the girl next to me leaned over and whispered "I have a pad"...I was about to sarcastically congratulate her for getting her period when the light came on and I started to laugh. "Should I tell him?" she whispered.
"What?" our instructor asked.
"She has a maxi pad."
A smile spread onto my instructor's face. "That'll do it." he said.
And so it was that this quiet guy who probably got red in the face at the mere mention of a maxi pad, ended up with a big ol' overnighter wrapped around his bleeding hand to ski down the mountain to the first aid hut.
I mean really, can you think of anything more appropriate for absorbing blood? In fact this experience convinced me that every first aid kit should include one. It has also made me paranoid about handling my skis with my bare hands.
I got my own gear for Christmas and I signed up for USU's skiing class at Beaver Mountain which for $100 got me six lessons and six half day's worth of skiing. This was a game changer. Skiing suddenly went from something I did because I grew up at the foot of the Rockies and my dad was paying to something I really loved and was pretty good at.
The class I was in at Beaver Mountain consisted of three girls and one shy, slightly stout young man with a brand new pair of nice skis. Our instructor was a good-looking, middle-aged guy who did something a couple days a week that earned him enough money to ski whenever he wanted. On our last day of class we had arranged to have a little potluck at the top of the mountain (I brought muddy buddies of course). We rode the lift and skied a little ways down to a spot where the run curved and flattened out. My instructor demonstrated how to stick our skis straight up in the snow so that it made a chair back when you sat on the snow. The three girls got there skis in the ground in a jiff and promptly plopped down and started passing the food around. Our instructor busied himself with a piece of gear. After a bit I noticed that the guy in our class had put his skis in the snow but had moved away from us a little bit. He was holding and looking at one of his bare hands. Then I noticed the red drops in the snow.
I asked if he was alright. Turns out he put his skis in the snow using his bare hands and the brand new sharp edge of his brand new skis had sliced him right in the soft skin between two of his fingers. Someone suggested holding some snow on it to stop the bleeding. He picked a chunk up and held in between his fingers and it was instantly red. It was really bleeding. It wasn't long before the area around us looked like a small helpless animal had lost a fight with a less helpless animal with big teeth.
My instructor started checking his pockets for a band aid (although I think we knew a band aid wasn't going to cut it) but he came up empty. I started brainstorming what piece of gear (hat, gator) I could sacrifice for the cause when the girl next to me leaned over and whispered "I have a pad"...I was about to sarcastically congratulate her for getting her period when the light came on and I started to laugh. "Should I tell him?" she whispered.
"What?" our instructor asked.
"She has a maxi pad."
A smile spread onto my instructor's face. "That'll do it." he said.
And so it was that this quiet guy who probably got red in the face at the mere mention of a maxi pad, ended up with a big ol' overnighter wrapped around his bleeding hand to ski down the mountain to the first aid hut.
I mean really, can you think of anything more appropriate for absorbing blood? In fact this experience convinced me that every first aid kit should include one. It has also made me paranoid about handling my skis with my bare hands.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Remember how I used to write a blog?
So two of my three faithful readers mentioned how I haven't been writing much lately.
To them I say: You are right.
And by way of explanation let me tell you a story:
Once upon a time I was a very cynical person. Then I fell in love. And I became less cynical. Dare I say romantic even. I feel pretty confident in saying that it was the most romantic I may ever be (see, there's that cynicism). After a time, it became necessary for me to not be in love anymore. With such a deliberate mindset to not be in love I reverted very quickly to what must be my natural state: cynicism.
In an effort to keep a lid on such negative emotions I've avoided posting because anything I would have to say of late would have an unhealthy dose of vinegar in it.
But I don't want to be cynical and I do want to write. So look forward to more (hopefully positive) posts.
My poor roommates get the unedited version of my usual rants. Poor things.
Thanks friends.
To them I say: You are right.
And by way of explanation let me tell you a story:
Once upon a time I was a very cynical person. Then I fell in love. And I became less cynical. Dare I say romantic even. I feel pretty confident in saying that it was the most romantic I may ever be (see, there's that cynicism). After a time, it became necessary for me to not be in love anymore. With such a deliberate mindset to not be in love I reverted very quickly to what must be my natural state: cynicism.
In an effort to keep a lid on such negative emotions I've avoided posting because anything I would have to say of late would have an unhealthy dose of vinegar in it.
But I don't want to be cynical and I do want to write. So look forward to more (hopefully positive) posts.
My poor roommates get the unedited version of my usual rants. Poor things.
Thanks friends.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Yes, This Is My Job
The following is an ACTUAL conversation I had with a fourteen year old yesterday (with minimal embellishment):
In the hallway, right after the tardy bell for sixth period
Me: Hannah* where were you during fifth period?
Hannah: I was there
Me: No, you weren't. I came to your classroom, you weren't there. I talked to your teacher, she hadn't seen you.
Hannah: Well, I was there.
Me: Hannah, 45 minutes in the bathroom from the time 5th starts til the time 5th ends is not called being in class. Its called skipping class. That's an unexcused absence. Which is a lunch detention.
Hannah: Whatever.
Me: How about 7th period. You've been absent in 7th for the past seven days. Where were you?
Hannah: I was there.
Me: You weren't there! I spoke to Mrs. Miller. She hasn't seen you in class for seven days! One of you is lying. Are you calling Mrs. Miller a liar?
Hannah: (shrugs) I guess.
Me: Really?! Really? Is your brain broken? Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I enjoy chasing your adolescent, truant ass all over the school? Well I don't, shocking I know. You know, I have a degree...I worked for a long time and paid a lot of money for it. And for what?! To check every bathroom stall in the building for you every hour. And guess what else? I get paid about as much as I did my senior year of high school. So maybe you could do us both a favor, save us some misery (cuz I know you can't stand the sight of me) and just GO TO CLASS.
Like I said. A little embellished.
In defense of Hannah...she's got a terrible home life and lives in an environment I can barely comprehend. Still, she doesn't seem to be motivated in the slightest to better her situation and manages to make my days miserable in the process.
*Name has been changed to protect the very, very guilty
In the hallway, right after the tardy bell for sixth period
Me: Hannah* where were you during fifth period?
Hannah: I was there
Me: No, you weren't. I came to your classroom, you weren't there. I talked to your teacher, she hadn't seen you.
Hannah: Well, I was there.
Me: Hannah, 45 minutes in the bathroom from the time 5th starts til the time 5th ends is not called being in class. Its called skipping class. That's an unexcused absence. Which is a lunch detention.
Hannah: Whatever.
Me: How about 7th period. You've been absent in 7th for the past seven days. Where were you?
Hannah: I was there.
Me: You weren't there! I spoke to Mrs. Miller. She hasn't seen you in class for seven days! One of you is lying. Are you calling Mrs. Miller a liar?
Hannah: (shrugs) I guess.
Me: Really?! Really? Is your brain broken? Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I enjoy chasing your adolescent, truant ass all over the school? Well I don't, shocking I know. You know, I have a degree...I worked for a long time and paid a lot of money for it. And for what?! To check every bathroom stall in the building for you every hour. And guess what else? I get paid about as much as I did my senior year of high school. So maybe you could do us both a favor, save us some misery (cuz I know you can't stand the sight of me) and just GO TO CLASS.
Like I said. A little embellished.
In defense of Hannah...she's got a terrible home life and lives in an environment I can barely comprehend. Still, she doesn't seem to be motivated in the slightest to better her situation and manages to make my days miserable in the process.
*Name has been changed to protect the very, very guilty
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