"This is how it works
You're young until you're not
You love until you don't
You try until you can't
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe
Until their dying breath
No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else's heart
Pumping someone else's blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don't get harmed
But even if it does
You'll just do it all again"
Thanks Regina.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Saturday, October 31, 2009
A Memory, Just in Time for Halloween
When I was in middle school I walked to and from school everyday. I usually walked with two friends that lived in my neighborhood. Our normal route took us past the Cottonwood Heights Rec Center. On particularly cold days we would cut through the Rec Center for an extra minute of warmth.
One day I was walking home alone. I must have had to stay late that day. I cut through the Rec Center and decided to pay my water bill at a small, little used restroom near my exit. There were only three stalls in the bathroom and noting that all the stall doors were open (giving me the impression I was alone) I chose the middle stall. I go about my business but before I'm finished the silence was cut with a chilling, Halloween worthy, female scream coming from the stall on my right. It scared me so bad I stopped mid-stream, yanked up my pants and got the heck out of there, my exit punctuated by a second scream.
In hindsight, my adult, emergency response trained self thinks I should have checked to see what was wrong. But I was SURE I was alone in there. It freaked me out and I could not do anything but get out. I couldn't use that bathroom again for years. I still don't know what happened. Maybe it was all in my head?
Anyway,
Happy Halloween!
One day I was walking home alone. I must have had to stay late that day. I cut through the Rec Center and decided to pay my water bill at a small, little used restroom near my exit. There were only three stalls in the bathroom and noting that all the stall doors were open (giving me the impression I was alone) I chose the middle stall. I go about my business but before I'm finished the silence was cut with a chilling, Halloween worthy, female scream coming from the stall on my right. It scared me so bad I stopped mid-stream, yanked up my pants and got the heck out of there, my exit punctuated by a second scream.
In hindsight, my adult, emergency response trained self thinks I should have checked to see what was wrong. But I was SURE I was alone in there. It freaked me out and I could not do anything but get out. I couldn't use that bathroom again for years. I still don't know what happened. Maybe it was all in my head?
Anyway,
Happy Halloween!
Saturday, October 24, 2009
The Ugly Side of the Sacrament
Bet you didn't think there was one did ya? Neither did I until this morning.
It's my ward's month to clean the church. I signed up to help for today. After being slightly delayed this morning I showed up about fifteen minutes late. I'm still pretty new to my ward and so I didn't know the young man standing in front of the custodial closet door who after quickly scanning the list posted on the door gave me one of the jobs still left. He asked me clean the sacrament preparation room and wipe out all the sacrament trays.
I was kind of excited. I had never been in that room before. I knew it wasn't going to be some ornate luxurious room but just the fact that I had never seen one gave the job an air of mystery and excitement. Just to dispel any romantic notions YOU might have about the room it's little with a counter and a sink and some shelves.
Immediately after registering what the room look liked, my sense of smell was accosted. It stunk. Bad.
Due to the small proportions of the room it didn't take me long to identify the cause of the smell. In the corner was a tall trash can three quarters of the way full with discarded sacrament cups and (brace yourself) bits of wet, moldy, black and blue, fuzzy bread. It was so gross.
Because of the offensive smell I decided I would start with taking the garbage out. I pulled on the bag and it was HEAVY. I got it high enough to see that rank, stinky water was dripping from the bottom of the bag. And as soon as I disturbed the fetid mess the stink increased ten times.
I pulled my shirt over my nose and pulled the trash can onto the stand to get it out of the tiny room. I wiped trays down, counter and sink and it was about this time my roommate Rachelle comes by having finished her job and asks what smells so bad. I show her and her only response is "Boys." She ran to grab two trash bags, one to double up the dripping nasty one and one as a replacement.
When she comes back, shirts over our noses, we double bag that sucker and she hurries away to the dumpster with it. Leaving me with the trash can that still has a quarter inch of stinky water, pieces of beyond recognizable bread and a few tiny plastic cups floating in the bottom. The stink is still overwhelming. I thought about just tossing the can and letting someone in charge know that the sacrament prep room needed a new one. But I remembered that usually the custodial closets have tallish sinks (for lack of a better word) with drains on the floor and faucets with a short hose on them. I dragged the can in there and started rinsing it out. I got the can pretty clean but the bits of "bread" and cups were caught in the drain. So I put on a latex glove and right as I'm about to fish the stuff out the last of the cleaning party shows up at the closet, including the young man who assigned me the job.
"What is that?" he asks disgustedly.
"This is what was in the bottom of the garbage can in the sacrament preparation room." I reply.
Now here comes the worst part of the story. This guy then proceeds to say, like he's patting himself on the back, that that's why he gave that job to a woman. Because we're so "detail oriented" and men clean that room up all the time and miss stuff like that. What?! Taking out the stinking, moldy, mildewy trash that has been neglected for months and months is detail oriented?! And only the sensitivity and discerning eye of a woman could catch such a subtle offense. He would have been better off complimenting ME and not generalizing my sex as the world's best man's trash taker outers. Maybe I'm overreacting...
Anyway...
The second worst part about cleaning up that room was wiping old lipstick off of the bottom of the water trays. There's something you never think about.
Happy Sabbath tomorrow!
It's my ward's month to clean the church. I signed up to help for today. After being slightly delayed this morning I showed up about fifteen minutes late. I'm still pretty new to my ward and so I didn't know the young man standing in front of the custodial closet door who after quickly scanning the list posted on the door gave me one of the jobs still left. He asked me clean the sacrament preparation room and wipe out all the sacrament trays.
I was kind of excited. I had never been in that room before. I knew it wasn't going to be some ornate luxurious room but just the fact that I had never seen one gave the job an air of mystery and excitement. Just to dispel any romantic notions YOU might have about the room it's little with a counter and a sink and some shelves.
Immediately after registering what the room look liked, my sense of smell was accosted. It stunk. Bad.
Due to the small proportions of the room it didn't take me long to identify the cause of the smell. In the corner was a tall trash can three quarters of the way full with discarded sacrament cups and (brace yourself) bits of wet, moldy, black and blue, fuzzy bread. It was so gross.
Because of the offensive smell I decided I would start with taking the garbage out. I pulled on the bag and it was HEAVY. I got it high enough to see that rank, stinky water was dripping from the bottom of the bag. And as soon as I disturbed the fetid mess the stink increased ten times.
I pulled my shirt over my nose and pulled the trash can onto the stand to get it out of the tiny room. I wiped trays down, counter and sink and it was about this time my roommate Rachelle comes by having finished her job and asks what smells so bad. I show her and her only response is "Boys." She ran to grab two trash bags, one to double up the dripping nasty one and one as a replacement.
When she comes back, shirts over our noses, we double bag that sucker and she hurries away to the dumpster with it. Leaving me with the trash can that still has a quarter inch of stinky water, pieces of beyond recognizable bread and a few tiny plastic cups floating in the bottom. The stink is still overwhelming. I thought about just tossing the can and letting someone in charge know that the sacrament prep room needed a new one. But I remembered that usually the custodial closets have tallish sinks (for lack of a better word) with drains on the floor and faucets with a short hose on them. I dragged the can in there and started rinsing it out. I got the can pretty clean but the bits of "bread" and cups were caught in the drain. So I put on a latex glove and right as I'm about to fish the stuff out the last of the cleaning party shows up at the closet, including the young man who assigned me the job.
"What is that?" he asks disgustedly.
"This is what was in the bottom of the garbage can in the sacrament preparation room." I reply.
Now here comes the worst part of the story. This guy then proceeds to say, like he's patting himself on the back, that that's why he gave that job to a woman. Because we're so "detail oriented" and men clean that room up all the time and miss stuff like that. What?! Taking out the stinking, moldy, mildewy trash that has been neglected for months and months is detail oriented?! And only the sensitivity and discerning eye of a woman could catch such a subtle offense. He would have been better off complimenting ME and not generalizing my sex as the world's best man's trash taker outers. Maybe I'm overreacting...
Anyway...
The second worst part about cleaning up that room was wiping old lipstick off of the bottom of the water trays. There's something you never think about.
Happy Sabbath tomorrow!
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
The Dentist and I
I went to the dentist today. An appointment I keep every 6 months. I'm kind of starting to realize that this is more frequent than most adults see the dentist if there's nothing bothering them but I try to do it for a couple reasons:
1. Because I'm still on my parent's insurance and I can
2. Because growing up I had really bad teeth. I had cavities every time I went. I even had a couple root canals on baby teeth. Ridiculous right? Thanks to growing up and (relatively) regular brushing and flossing I seem to have it under control but I'm still paranoid that if I don't stay out in front of it my teeth will just turn black and fall out.
Going to the dentist for me is always an ironic experience. I hate going to the dentist. I don't really like having my teeth cleaned and I REALLY don't like having anything beyond that done. But I love my dentist's office. Here's a list of things I like about the dentist:
Now here's the stuff I don't like about the dentist:
The rest is just varying degrees of super unpleasant to downright painful. It sucks and I hate it.
But I go all the time. What's wrong with me?
The other thing that I find incredibly ironic about going to the dentist is I go in feeling fine. No problems with my mouth whatsoever. They'll tell me I have a cavity. So I go in to get it fixed. I leave. The spot they worked on now bothers me. What the crap? Are they just making stuff up? Like there isn't enough dental problems in the world they have to make up work to do in my mouth. Stupid. I'm pretty sure the Bartons alone have paid for Dr. Gleave's second home in St. George.
Sigh.
1. Because I'm still on my parent's insurance and I can
2. Because growing up I had really bad teeth. I had cavities every time I went. I even had a couple root canals on baby teeth. Ridiculous right? Thanks to growing up and (relatively) regular brushing and flossing I seem to have it under control but I'm still paranoid that if I don't stay out in front of it my teeth will just turn black and fall out.
Going to the dentist for me is always an ironic experience. I hate going to the dentist. I don't really like having my teeth cleaned and I REALLY don't like having anything beyond that done. But I love my dentist's office. Here's a list of things I like about the dentist:
- The receptionist and hygienists. I've been going to the same dentist for years and years. They've known me a long time. They know every member of my family and what order we all come in. When Ryan was gone they always asked how he was. They know what my degree is in. They know I have a boyfriend. They know I moved to Ohio. And now they know I'm back. I feel like I could almost count them as friends. Except most of my friends don't put their fingers in my mouth. MOST of them. (hee).
- While the music that plays is the softest rock that's ever existed and makes me want to cry with boredom there are tv's in the ceiling which if I'm just going in for a cleaning I usually don't bother with but if I'm having something more serious done its a nice way to pass the time and a good distraction when the drill and clamps are at work. Yuck.
- The nitrous oxide. Nuff said.
- I really like that heavy apron they put on you when they do your x-rays. Is that weird? I always want them to just leave it on me.
- The warm towel they give you to wipe your face when you're done.
Now here's the stuff I don't like about the dentist:
- Everything else.
The rest is just varying degrees of super unpleasant to downright painful. It sucks and I hate it.
But I go all the time. What's wrong with me?
The other thing that I find incredibly ironic about going to the dentist is I go in feeling fine. No problems with my mouth whatsoever. They'll tell me I have a cavity. So I go in to get it fixed. I leave. The spot they worked on now bothers me. What the crap? Are they just making stuff up? Like there isn't enough dental problems in the world they have to make up work to do in my mouth. Stupid. I'm pretty sure the Bartons alone have paid for Dr. Gleave's second home in St. George.
Sigh.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
and another thing...
This is scary. I either need to become a vegetarian or find a way to eat healthily raised meat. I'm glad I don't have to worry about feeding kids. Its hard enough for me!
http://www.time.com/time/health/article/0,8599,1917458,00.html
This is a good idea. And maybe a way to improve the problem in the first article...
http://www.cnn.com/2009/POLITICS/10/05/ruiz.obesity.tax/index.html?iref=newssearch
I saw the movie that article refers to and it was disturbingly gluttonous. A not so subtle nod in our direction.
My new favorite show:
http://www.hulu.com/the-biggest-loser
Makes me feel motivated. But the irony of watching people work out INSTEAD of working out is not lost on me.
And finally, some energy (read: money) saving tips:
http://www.usatoday.com/money/industries/energy/2009-10-15-how-to-lower-heating-costs_N.htm
Just some stuff I've been reading/thinking about.
Happy Fall
http://www.time.com/time/health/article/0,8599,1917458,00.html
This is a good idea. And maybe a way to improve the problem in the first article...
http://www.cnn.com/2009/POLITICS/10/05/ruiz.obesity.tax/index.html?iref=newssearch
I saw the movie that article refers to and it was disturbingly gluttonous. A not so subtle nod in our direction.
My new favorite show:
http://www.hulu.com/the-biggest-loser
Makes me feel motivated. But the irony of watching people work out INSTEAD of working out is not lost on me.
And finally, some energy (read: money) saving tips:
http://www.usatoday.com/money/industries/energy/2009-10-15-how-to-lower-heating-costs_N.htm
Just some stuff I've been reading/thinking about.
Happy Fall
Thursday, September 17, 2009
A Parallel
I've long believed that outside of Mormon culture drinking (of the alcohol variety) is less a personal choice indicating if you stand on moral high ground or grovel in a pit of societal filth and more just something that you do. When you're 5 you go to kindergarten, 13 you're officially a teenager, sixteen you drive a car and somewhere around there I would imagine you have your first drink. Its a coming of age sort of thing...a rite of passage, a cultural experience, more than a moral choice an individual makes. An average American youth whose parents drink casually and responsibly I don't think ever has a moment where a switch is flipped in their head and says "I think today is the day I will start my descent into hell" and goes and has a drink. That's the way that we (Mormons) are taught to think about drinking (not the descent into hell part the individual choice part). To us it IS a choice between right and wrong, good and evil. A drink to us is a very decided step in the wrong direction. Because (sigh) we know better.
As you all know I am not a drinker. Nor will I ever be. If you really must know I think it is gross, wasteful, and if this makes sense at all, insincere. I really don't respect it or appreciate what it does to people and to families. However, some of the people I love very most are drinkers. And in my time observing them I've been able to draw an interesting parallel with drinking culture and Mormon culture (are you curious?????)
In the following examples please substitute the word "drink" with the words "ice cream":
"Hey its your birthday! Let me buy you a drink!"
"Hey I think you're cute and nice, can I take you for a drink?"
"You got a new job! Awesome! Let me buy you a drink!"
"I haven't seen you in so long! Lets go get a drink now that you're back in town."
"We won our league's basketball championship! We're meeting up for a drink."
"Hard day at work? Wanna go for a drink?"
"You're boyfriend broke up with you? What a jerk. Lets go for a drink."
etc. etc.
Interesting right? Who knew ice cream was such a big part of our culture. No wonder Utah is the number 1 consumer of ice cream.
And in any of these scenarios I personally would substitute ice cream with fro yo. Or vodka but that's just me.
Peace.
"No amount of coffe, no amount of crying, no amount of whiskey, no wine, nothing else will do. I gotta have you" -- The Weepies
As you all know I am not a drinker. Nor will I ever be. If you really must know I think it is gross, wasteful, and if this makes sense at all, insincere. I really don't respect it or appreciate what it does to people and to families. However, some of the people I love very most are drinkers. And in my time observing them I've been able to draw an interesting parallel with drinking culture and Mormon culture (are you curious?????)
In the following examples please substitute the word "drink" with the words "ice cream":
"Hey its your birthday! Let me buy you a drink!"
"Hey I think you're cute and nice, can I take you for a drink?"
"You got a new job! Awesome! Let me buy you a drink!"
"I haven't seen you in so long! Lets go get a drink now that you're back in town."
"We won our league's basketball championship! We're meeting up for a drink."
"Hard day at work? Wanna go for a drink?"
"You're boyfriend broke up with you? What a jerk. Lets go for a drink."
etc. etc.
Interesting right? Who knew ice cream was such a big part of our culture. No wonder Utah is the number 1 consumer of ice cream.
And in any of these scenarios I personally would substitute ice cream with fro yo. Or vodka but that's just me.
Peace.
"No amount of coffe, no amount of crying, no amount of whiskey, no wine, nothing else will do. I gotta have you" -- The Weepies
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
The Epic Tragedy of Wall Drug (pronounced wale droog)
I drove across the country over the holiday weekend. An experience I would encourage everyone to have at least once. It really gives you some perspective on how big our country really is and there's nothing like seeing the crappy middle of nowhere towns some people live in to make you appreciate where you live. I told Molly somewhere in Wisconsin that I kind of wanted to just go to someone's front door and say "You know you don't have to live here right? There are better places than this."
When I drove cross country the first time in January we took I-80 through Wyoming, Nebraska, Iowa, Illonios, Indiana and finally Ohio. It was straight and flat and boring. Eastern Wyoming and Nebraska where the worst. Things got a little better through the I states. More of what you tend to think of when you think of Middle America: rolling hills, farmhouses, elephant eye tall corn etc.
On the way back Molly and I decided to take I-90 which took a little out of the way to the north so that we could see Mt. Rushmore. Something I've always wanted to do but knew I would never plan a trip there. Its very out of the way and in the middle of nowhere, you see.
Our first leg of the journey took us via the Ohio turnpike through Indiana and up through Chicago. We stopped for the night in Beloit, Wisconsin just over the state line. We ended up paying a little over $20 in tolls. Ridiculously infruriating. Especially to someone who has traveled miles and miles of good roads for free out west. Listen up you east side midwestern states: Take a look at whatever it is we're doing out here and copy it because driving through your states sucks.
Next day brought us Wisconsin, Minnesota (which boasts 10,000 lakes but I only saw a little pond) and finally South Dakota.
Whatever South Dakota lacks in natural beauty when compared to its neighbors it makes up for in quirkiness. The road was flat and straight but I got the feeling that the residences of the state didn't take themselves too seriously, and weren't afraid to exploit anything as some sort of attraction. I saw some pretty strange yard art (skeleton of a man leading a skeleton of a dinosaur on a leash) and a palace (read small indoor basketball arena) made of corn, but the most intriguing thing about the state was Wall Drug.
We hadn't been in SD for too long before we starting seeing signs for Wall Drug. We continued to see these signs for all 350 miles we were in the state. Some had cowboys on them, some dinosaurs, I saw rockets and Santa Clause all advertising Wall Drug. Is it a town? A store? As we neared our destination for the night (Rapid City) the signs became more frequent and I finally asked Molly to look up what Wall Drug was on her phone.
A google search revealed (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wall_Drug) that essentially Wall Drug is a big, old drugstore that had free ice water, five cent coffee and homemade doughnuts.
It is truly a testament of how stir crazy we must have been for this to cause the excitement it did. We were stopping. No matter what. We were getting our free ice water, home made doughnut and five cent coffee we wouldn't drink. We exited at Wall, SD. Followed the signs, excitment building and building. We were finally going to see the Wall Drug! We pulled up and parked. It was serioulsy half a block long. It was built in the style of the old west. So excited. We approached the door...and I wish I was making this up... I extended my hand to open the door...and...the lights went out. The door was locked. It was only eight o'clock at night! We had come so far! For the love! After all the build up and not even a free ice water. Biggest let down of the trip. So sad.
To add insult to injury we got some real crappy food at the cafe across the street.
Again sorry for the long post. I promised myself I would keep this short. Maybe because I wait so long in between blogs it builds up and all comes out at once like blog vomit.
When I drove cross country the first time in January we took I-80 through Wyoming, Nebraska, Iowa, Illonios, Indiana and finally Ohio. It was straight and flat and boring. Eastern Wyoming and Nebraska where the worst. Things got a little better through the I states. More of what you tend to think of when you think of Middle America: rolling hills, farmhouses, elephant eye tall corn etc.
On the way back Molly and I decided to take I-90 which took a little out of the way to the north so that we could see Mt. Rushmore. Something I've always wanted to do but knew I would never plan a trip there. Its very out of the way and in the middle of nowhere, you see.
Our first leg of the journey took us via the Ohio turnpike through Indiana and up through Chicago. We stopped for the night in Beloit, Wisconsin just over the state line. We ended up paying a little over $20 in tolls. Ridiculously infruriating. Especially to someone who has traveled miles and miles of good roads for free out west. Listen up you east side midwestern states: Take a look at whatever it is we're doing out here and copy it because driving through your states sucks.
Next day brought us Wisconsin, Minnesota (which boasts 10,000 lakes but I only saw a little pond) and finally South Dakota.
Whatever South Dakota lacks in natural beauty when compared to its neighbors it makes up for in quirkiness. The road was flat and straight but I got the feeling that the residences of the state didn't take themselves too seriously, and weren't afraid to exploit anything as some sort of attraction. I saw some pretty strange yard art (skeleton of a man leading a skeleton of a dinosaur on a leash) and a palace (read small indoor basketball arena) made of corn, but the most intriguing thing about the state was Wall Drug.
We hadn't been in SD for too long before we starting seeing signs for Wall Drug. We continued to see these signs for all 350 miles we were in the state. Some had cowboys on them, some dinosaurs, I saw rockets and Santa Clause all advertising Wall Drug. Is it a town? A store? As we neared our destination for the night (Rapid City) the signs became more frequent and I finally asked Molly to look up what Wall Drug was on her phone.
A google search revealed (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wall_Drug) that essentially Wall Drug is a big, old drugstore that had free ice water, five cent coffee and homemade doughnuts.
It is truly a testament of how stir crazy we must have been for this to cause the excitement it did. We were stopping. No matter what. We were getting our free ice water, home made doughnut and five cent coffee we wouldn't drink. We exited at Wall, SD. Followed the signs, excitment building and building. We were finally going to see the Wall Drug! We pulled up and parked. It was serioulsy half a block long. It was built in the style of the old west. So excited. We approached the door...and I wish I was making this up... I extended my hand to open the door...and...the lights went out. The door was locked. It was only eight o'clock at night! We had come so far! For the love! After all the build up and not even a free ice water. Biggest let down of the trip. So sad.
To add insult to injury we got some real crappy food at the cafe across the street.
Again sorry for the long post. I promised myself I would keep this short. Maybe because I wait so long in between blogs it builds up and all comes out at once like blog vomit.
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