Kambam Adventures

Warm jammies, Long day

2012-02-08T23:24:00.000-08:00

11:11 pm and today was the most productive sick day ever. I'm in my Christmas jammies because even though it seems to be warming up and drying out around here (4 straight days of blue blue skies, thank you), I'm still cold under my skin and the only thing that help is flannel/fleece PJs (with the collar popped apparently) and the inch-thick red socks my future Mother-in-Law gave me as a Christmas stocking this year.

Yes, I have three piles of clean clothes to put away, but it means I got TWO very full loads done today, along with a number of errands that have been clouding up the back of my brain including, but not limited to depositing over $1000 in checks, getting in a quasi-fight with my financial planner about my life insurance policy, finalizing wedding invitations, tables and food with my mom, buying thank you cards and contraceptives, a Bikram yoga class that kicked my butt but sweat out everything toxic in me, and an episode of Lost to top it off.

And I made my bed.

Irene

2012-02-07T21:30:00.000-08:00

There's this lady I work with at the temple, Irene. I actually grew up going to church with her, though my only memory of her was that she was old and her husband was dying so we went as a youth group to clean up their house. It's 15 years later now and she's got that wobbly head thing going on where it always looks like she's nodding in agreement, or maybe trying her hand (head) at a good old fashioned Indian head shake. She's about 4'10", maybe shorter with posture, and has the kind of wrinkles that I love shout that I want some day, because they show a life well-lived. My mom says wait 'til I'm her age and I'll rethink the beauty of wrinkles, but Irene's skin and small pouf of silvery white hair make me think I could like aging, if I could end up as cute as her.

I just noticed Irene again tonight, up close towering over her. I don't think I've ever had 4" on anyone over the age of 10. It's funny how old people, to me, feel made up, like they're out of a story or a movie or something. I see the wrinkles and make up stories in my head of years that made them wiser. Sure, they've had those years, but they've also had things like a pick line up their arm for weeks at a time and husbands dying and a lot of normal days full of dinner and errands.

When I first started at the temple, none of the ladies asked about my love life. It's considered rude, I guess, to ask a young girl who might just be starving for a life partner about the presence of such a man. But the first time Irene made the connection that I was a Knudson girl, Wendy's daughter, from her neck of the woods, the first words out of her mouth were 'So, you got a man?' Tonight when asked questions that I would story up in my head to be answered like Nanny Wendy from Hook, instead, she was matter of fact and to the point. Dark penciled eyebrows and no messing around.

Just noticed and am still thinking about it. I could be pretty happy to end up like Irene.

Giving Up Explained

2012-01-25T13:40:00.000-08:00

When I have something big to blog about, I have a tendency to hold off on updating my blog for a while because I wish I could update chronologically, fully, as things are happening. I want to update with pictures and witty or thoughtful commentary. Then I get back-logged and then don't want to post new items out of order.

This season's big news?

Oh, and my fingeres are red now...

Uhh what?

I'm freaking engaged, that's what.

I met this boy and I love him and we're getting married. Two months from yesterday.

Now I can post about all the goings-on with some context.

Soundtrack: C'est la Mort by The Civil Wars

This song was recommended to me by YouTube yesterday and I've probably listened to it over 50 times in the last 24 hours. It's got that desperation of Phantom of the Opera's 'All I Ask Of You' and the sweet sentimental of 'Grow Old with You' from The Wedding Singer. But it's got these haunting vocals, killer harmonies, and a message that sinks in so deep that I got light-headed the first 15 times on repeat.

Whatever happens, wherever you go, in life and in death, don't go without me.

Giving up

2011-12-07T23:30:00.000-08:00

I probably could have/should have/ would have posted this a while ago, but I'm a stubborn girl who hates to admit defeat.

Let's just say losing isn't always a bad thing.

Hot Springs

2011-12-04T09:29:00.001-08:00

Not looking forward to this

I really do loathe the cold.

I feel like that has to be a disclaimer to really appreciate how lovely it was to trek up to the Goldmyer Hot Springs yesterday. I pretty much live in constant fear of potential cold and do my darnedest to prevent any from affecting my little body, so getting me out the door in the first place was a bit of a sell.

Once we got going, though, I realized that 1) the trail riding form of mountain biking is WAY more fun and way LESS terrifying than downhill, slick-rock, and big jump mountain biking 2) there's a great sound I never knew of a bike tire slicing through the frozen layer on top of mud puddles, and 3) it is possible to continue on even as frostbite seems to be setting in to fingers and toes.

I've Arrived!

Four miles up a not too steep incline, the snow had gone from patchy to present and a little crispy on top. We parked our bikes, checked in with the couple WHOSE JOB IT IS to man the electricity and real world access-free cabin at the Springs. Lucky me, there was only one nakie in the hot springs (oh what, didn't I tell you it was clothing optional?) and I'm rill good at averting my eyes when man parts are sloshing about.

Goldmyer has three levels of hot pouring from the springs. Super duper hot in the cave; hot tub hot just outside, bathtub hot just below. I dabbled in hot tub, luxuriated in the cave. Bathtub in the wilderness in the middle of November is a bad idea I would never consider.

On our way out, toasty on the inside and full on roast pork and PB&J Luna Bars (Porter knows how to pack a lunch), we passed a group of 12 backpackers headed up to the springs. I'm just hoping they weren't thinking clothing optional.

"12 naked backpackers in an enclosed bath tub!"

You win this time, Bratten.

First World Problems

2011-11-27T22:19:00.001-08:00

Sometimes I go about hating on life and the little inconveniences that feel like they are destroying peace and ripping to shreds any semblance of joy and happiness. Then one of the lyrics to this high school kid's homework assignment rap song pop into my head and I kick myself for my lack of perspective. It doesn't matter that I missed my exit; it's not the end of the world that my socks are a bit rough even though I used fabric softener; that person eating with their mouth open or blowing their nose super loud doesn't actually affect me at all.

I've got some first world problems!

Going curly

2011-11-17T10:38:00.001-08:00

Is it so much to ask for curls? You know, the scrunch and dry style, footloose and fancy free, automatic body and charm waves. Like Rachel McAdams has. And Charlize Theron. And Keri Russell. The list goes on. People who know how to do their hair.

Call it a grass is greener syndrome, but my stick straight, won't hold a curl for more than 10 minutes without a bottle of Aquanet hair just doesn't fulfill my need for volume and personality. I can only tease so much, you know! I want to be able to get out of the shower, load up on whatever product is necessary and not worry about rain or sweat or humidity bringing me back to flat.

So last week I tried pin curls, which I haven't tried since Elementary school and, despite a very L'Oreal moment right when the pins came out, I think I could make this work.

Pin-up girl

"Because I'm worth it!"

Getting wavy

If not there's always a perm. Not a corkscrew 'fro, a wavy perm. (Though if I'm totally honest, I still frequently look at my mom's kick-awesome perm from the early 90's and know that someday I will go there. Andlove it.)

Classy Knudsons

Isn't my mom a BABE?!

"And be not faithless, but believing."

2011-11-09T23:44:00.000-08:00

I wonder how Thomas felt after he confirmed for himself that Christ had, in fact, returned. Ashamed at his lack of faith? Exultant at the presence of the Lord?

Several months back, I had a crisis of faith where I felt that I knew that God wanted me to be a temple worker and I just plain and simple didn't want to. Call it lazy, selfish, or poor in spirit, I just plain didn't want to commit to six hours a week. Every week.

But I did! And I'm so glad I did. I'm the youngest on my shift by probably 30 years, so I'm like a pet to most of the little old ladies who have been doing this for years. My Tuesdays are now really long and sometimes require me to shimmy into a skirt or end a conference call in the temple parking lot, but it is amazing to feel the very real shift from working in the world and working in the house of the Lord. I haven't seen or felt any miracles yet. I don't feel like I've evaded guilt. I just feel... good.

Bumbershooting Ray

2011-10-22T08:48:00.000-07:00

Beard bands are apparently all the rage in today's hip music scene. Not always my jam, personally, but I stumbled onto Ray LaMontagne in something like February and haven't been able to live without his smoothly raspy voice since. I love almost every song (which is unusual due to my music ADD). The guy used to work at a shoe factory and one day heard some song that gave him the crazy idea to become a musician. Not long later, he was at the Key Arena mainstage at Bumbershoot crooning to my heart in person. Seriously, who is this guy?

I just love him. I love his lyrics. I love his presence. I love his way with guitar. I even love his beard.

Here's a few of my favorites:

Seriously, how great is that beard.

King County Budget Madness

2011-10-13T19:32:00.001-07:00


Just finished a ravishing 2.5 minute appeal to the King County Budget committee asking them to streamline budget requests for human service organizations. This is where our communities' movers and shakers can be found. If you're mad at Wall Street, President Obama, or the local parks because now they charge for parking, this is where you can have an impact. You gotta, you oughta, you betta show your face where decisions are being made.

Fall Felicity

2011-10-08T15:57:00.000-07:00

Fall is here. Last year , I was surprised/confused/angry/devastated/immobilized at the cold, wet, dark. This year, I'm prepared. I am actively going out and doing, even when it looks like midnight at 6 pm. And, for the times that I just can't, I've reactivated my Netflix account for some quality inside time [I'd deactivated it months ago because it was sunny outside and I couldn't justify screen time]. My inaugural watch was Episode 2 of the seriously awesome and at least for the first few episodes, very uncomfortable college drama, Felicity [I still remember that part where the whole dorm hears her tape about her feelings for Ben and it was like preparing for a scary scene in a horror movie waiting for the moment of pure awkwardness in episode 3]. I was prompted to find the Pilot the night before Netflix could get their act together and my account recharged, so I had to watch it on one of those Asian pirated video sites, see below (loving this anime cartoons and Chinese character translations. It's a great frame to Keri Russell's oh so out of control and amazing hair).

Episodes 2 and 3 reminded me of two things: One, how quickly new Freshmen make best friends. Brooke and I decided, two weeks into being blindly matched as freshman roommates that we were best friends, and have remained close since. Many of my best friends from college I met my freshman year. There's something about everyone starting brand new that the slots for good friends aren't filled yet. Felicity also met all the stars of the show in the first few episodes (except the coffee shop guy, who I'm excited to meet later this fall).

Secondly, how about these turtlenecks, eh? What says fall better than heavy cable knits?

In honor if Fall, Felicity and her many, many sweaters, I pulled my one cable knit mock turtleneck sweater out and finished episode 4. People (and by people, I mean I) just don't wear these enough.

Good hair and good company

2011-10-04T21:36:00.000-07:00

Great news: I'm not hating my hair today. I don't most days, really, but there are enough times I just have no control over greasiness, part, or ends curling in or out or curling at all that I can't claim to love love love it all the time. But today is a good hair day.

Also to report: I successfully drove to Utah straight through the night, gallivanted with some seriously spectacular friends and newborns, attended General Conference, and drove on back last night without dying, all with this guy:

I love me some sunshine, Fall leaves, healthy nostalgia, and a dreamboat to take it all in with.

Happy October!

Let's go Sounders [2010 Season...I think]

2011-09-23T12:35:00.000-07:00

My dark, camera phone shot

2010-2011 Season was one of Major League Soccer. And by that, I mean I went to two games. Quite a leap up from the zero I had going before now. [I went to one Reál Salt Lake game a few years ago on a date, but I was honestly too distracted/unnerved by the pounding, screaming, clapping Go Big or Go Home cheer zone at the far end of the stadium that I only vaguely remember the game. I had a big crush on my date too, I remember that. Not so helpful now.]

The first game, marking my return to soccer was on the dime of the law firm representing the Sounders. The one semester I worked for BYU catering (and two football games I wasn't assigned to the dishroom), I worked in the white tents outside the stadium set up for the bigwig donors and sports fanatics. I thought that was fancy. At CenturyLink Field, Sounders Club fans get a full spread before the game, peach cobbler and hot dogs at half time, and more ginger ale than one could ever know what to do with.

Someone else's class shot of confetti!

Besides the pita sandwiches and shepherd's pie, and the action-packed 100 minutes (including more injury time than I think was really necessary) of play, my favorite part about the game was confetti. Every time the Sounders score (3 times this time), huge confetti machines shoot blue and silver through the air. It rained on the 36,070 people in the stadium 9no idea where I got that number) and what made it to the field left the tattered-looking turf sparkling in the afternoon sun. Who cares if you don't like sports, is there a person on earth who does not get excited by confetti?

I don't have to settle for just confetti, even though I would, because I do enjoy watching soccer. While I understand many Americans' complaints that soccer is like watching a really long, very expensive game of playground keep-away (especially when the ball gets stuck in no-mans land mid-field with wussy players who can't seem to kick long without turning the ball over), this is ultimately what makes it so accessible. Most pro soccer players do wear cleats, and have above average in sex appeal, but in the end, stinky, barefoot 10-year-olds in the streets of Brazil and Benin are playing the same game David Beckham gets paid millions to play, and that we (or someone else, rather) pay to watch. There are few complicated rules, you can almost always tell where the ball is, anyone with decent lung capacity can play (so I guess I'm ruled out). Worldwide fun. Just not enough time for commercials.

"You suck asshole!"

My second game of the season came at the tail end of a Food Lifeline fundraiser where we passed out Sounders bags to fans while soliciting donations and Kicking Down Hunger, or something like that. One of my favorite things about professional sports are sports junkies, and how they seem to believe that their lives rely on the outcome of this game, or this kick, or goal, or whatever the case may be. Suffice it to say, the pre-game bag hand-out was full of my favorite kind of super fans.

I don't know if it's common among all sports or even all pro soccer teams to have elevated crowd participation from just cheering for the good to cheering for the good and booing for the unpleasant, then taking it up a notch and going from booing at bad calls and poor sportsmanship to chanting, all 30,000+ people in the stadium feedback like: YOU SUCK ASSHOLE!

Seriously? You suck asshole? Did the accountant, and college student, and nerdy mom behind me just shout that? I'm all for speaking your mind but, let's keep it together here, people. I was particularly aware of the bizarre poor sportsmanship echoing throughout the stadium my second game because I was there with my 12-year-old cousin who I'm sure is no stranger to profanity, but who I feel some desire to protect from potty-mouths.

All the same, I'm sold on soccer :)

Golden Girls

2011-09-21T14:23:00.000-07:00

I don't suppose anyone else ever has the thought that perhaps old friends who you haven't seen for a while and you don't rarely talk to (because really, Facebook and blog stalking, as informative as they are, aren't actually talking) aren't really friends anymore. What is a friend, if not someone who you talk to on a regular basis? I had a thought like this last week, in preparation for old friends from college coming into town to visit. I was a bit worried for a moment, in all honesty, that I'd signed up for three days with some very nice people who were really just a notch above acquaintances but who held more expectation of connection and thus, a more awkward forcing of fun, contentment, and intimate conversation.

Boy, was I wrong, and thank heavens too, because a weekend with non-friends just isn't blog-worthy, and heaven knows I've been needing to kickstart myself back into blogland. And more important that that even, heaven knows that I need me some really great friends.

We hadn't looped out of the airport before giggles, 'Remember When's, high voices, and 'What if's filled the car. I'm still recovering from Friday night's sleepover-style 3am bedtime and a full weekend of Seattle fun, Diet Coke runs, and catching up. These are friends who I can laugh with, and cry with (thanks a lot The Help), and who it's worth filling in the blanks of events and goings-on between the last time we all got together and now, even though it means lots of talking.

Rest assured, I have some really wonderful friends. Planning on keeping them at least til we look like these classy ladies:

I hope they call me on a mission (and give me a mullet)

2011-09-06T23:06:00.001-07:00

I'm not sure if I ever posted this video I made for my dad's birthday while I was on my mission, but I just stumbled across it and man, that mullet is out of control (esp. @ 1:55). Missions are great.

Flying and falling: Hang gliding and skydiving [August-September 2004]

2011-09-06T15:31:00.000-07:00

Soundtrack: Fallin and Flyin by Colin Farell and Jeff Bridges

My year for air travel was 2004. I was home for the summer and was dating this dream-boat of a guy who still to this day I think of whenever I see Michael Vartan. Katie Teddy came with us, which cracks me up because I think people forget sometimes that she's adventurous because she so delicate. We suited up in proper skydive gear, not because it made us safe but rather because it made us look ridiculous.

Skydiving isn't scary, not that I remember at least. The scariest part was when we reached 8000 feet and the one stranger on board the little plane we were riding up to the 13000 ft drop height FELL OUT THE DOOR. My tandem instructor and I sat closest to the pilot (furthest from the door) and I just about peed my pants when this kid literally dropped out the side of the plane, not realizing that he was actually training to be certified and part of that training required a jump at 8000 feet where the plane pulls the cord for you. Thanks for the heads up SkyDive Kapowsin.

By the time we made it to our altitude, the rest of us waddled to the door as if there was nothing to it and jumped out the door without time to think about it. 90 seconds of free fall goes pretty fast and doesn't leave much of a memory, surprisingly enough, so most of what I remember is sitting in the lap of my tandem for the five minute glide to the earth, him pointing out Mt. Rainier and his brother's house, me trying to not pass out as my equilibrium tried to catch up with my body. I had a pounding headache for a good couple hours after our hour plus ride home from Sumner making leftover lasagna at home all the more delicious.

Much more random (and exciting) was my turn hang gliding. Two days into the fall after I went skydiving, I had just moved into my first apartment outside the dorms and was playing solitaire on my computer in the middle of the empty living room when my sister called and casually asked if I wanted to go hang gliding. Easy answer. "Well alright. I'll be there in 30 minutes."

An hour later we were at the point of the mountain in Draper, UT with one of her Itex clients. Kelsie went up first and I sat a chatted with a homeless looking man who briefed me on the beauty of flying, that hang gliding marathons can last up to five ours, and how awesome it feels to go through a cloud. I mentally added "fly through a cloud" to my bucket list and watched Kelsie and her tandem make an easy landing.

Training was simple and repetitive. "Step, step step, jump. Got it? One Two Three jump. Let's practice, step step step jump." And don't flail about. Inching up to the edge, I drilled myself on my instructions, distracted by the fact that the entire glider was flapping furiously in the wind and that didn't seem like a very safe way for fabric to move on the edge of a cliff. My partner prompted me to get into Go Mode and we counted One Two There.... and my brain went blank, my body went limp (extra points for no flailing!), and wait, what? We're FALLING. DOWN. DOWN!!!!! GOING TO CRASH INTO THE HOUSES BELOOOO Ooohhh, wait, nevermind, he did mention something about how it took a minute for the glider to catch the wind and now we're safe up high (oxymoron?) and FLYING!

On a glider, you can simply glide along in the wind, steering loosely with the triangle frame you're strapped into, or spice things up. Pulling the bar towards the body, the bird immediately points down and plummets to the ground. With extended arms, we head back up, high into the sky. Out and in, up and down. Homemade roller coaster. Homemade FLYING roller coaster. You can also manipulate the bar to spin around in circles (not fun for brain or body). After thirty minutes of life as a bird, we inched back to earth and touched ground. I would go hang gliding again in a heartbeat, maybe even certify to do it on my own someday if time and money allowed.

SO. MUCH. FUN.

And now without the hyper-sensitive privacy disclaimer

2011-08-31T15:26:00.001-07:00

I just enabled blogger on my phone so I'm just figgerin it out. Looks like SMS Blogging breaks up the message into 150 character bytes. Sent from my word email scares the bejesus out of any reader, so no one will want to comment or reblog (not that anyone does without the over-protective statement). Sent from my personal email? Let's see...

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Let's try this again

2011-08-31T15:21:00.001-07:00

I woke up this morning to daybreak. Not the pretty kind where streams of light are streaking through mountaintops, spreading some mix of moonbeams and sunshine across the waters. The daybreak I woke up to is a sad and terrifying omen of mornings to come; mornings where stars are still out and the big dipper shining as I throw my phone (alarm) off the bed and beg to sleep til morning, which by this time of year (the omen time of year, not today) means something like 9 am or worse. I had to turn on my headlights today, the first time in months, and I'm not emotionally ready to do it every day. I am grateful every day when cloudy skies turn blue just in time for me to leave work. I don't have to turn my lights on for the drive home yet. Not yet.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile
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Drop everything now!

2011-08-26T08:23:00.000-07:00

Every day this week I've woken up with this song in my head and every day I listen (on repeat) and love the fireworks (3:18, 3:34, 4:07), acrobatics (0:50, 1:59), and "hairography" (1:18,1:59, 2:08, 2:11, 2:20, 2:27, 2:54...etc) [and dress/sparklography for that matter (0:26..1:38)] of the video with the same dopey expression as this fully grown woman [Jennifer Garner?] at the concert (1:07).

According to VEVO/YouTube, this video is most popular with three Gender Age groups: Female 13-17, Female 18-24, and.... Male 45-54. I've not quite reached this girl's desperation (2:33). But I'm getting there.

Seriously, can't she (Taylor Swift, not the creepster on the left) just be my best friend?

Knudson Kampout

2011-08-23T08:49:00.000-07:00

(I usually adamantly refuse to spell C-words [as in, any words that start with C] with a K to match or for emphasis [I also usually avoid any establishments or services that to, i.e., Kuttin' Korner, KoolPak, etc.] but when my brother Brian sent out the first round of invites for our summer family weekend, he used the dreaded double-K, so my hands are tied.)

Not much to say about the family campout, except the obvious:

At Krescent Bar near Kwincy, the Knudsons kame to kamp
(for fear that on the West Kaskades, it might just be too damp)
Klear water and kool mountains were kwick to satisfy
With korn, kobbler, and non-K-foods, krackling on a fire nearby.
I krested a hill on my bicycle, and krossed the Kolumbia river,
and though temps were high as Kelvins, the water made me shiver.
Kroquet and sno-kones kept us busy, along with lots of rest
And I was reminded, again, that the kooky Knudson Klan is the best!

Deseret Painting [June 2011]

2011-08-22T23:39:00.000-07:00

I just bought myself a real house and home painting! I went in for a Father's Day gift and came out with this mama jama, 50% off! This isn't a knick-knack, or a cheap poster, or from the home decor section at Bed Bath and Beyond. It's a real expensive-frame, takes-up-a-whole-wall painting and I LOVE IT. Love the colors, love the old-school halos, love the intensity with which everyone is watching Christ.

The inspiration encapsulates what I believe is the core of Christianity ( as well as most world religions) and purpose of life: to serve others:

If I then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet; ye also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done to you. Verily, verily, I say unto you, The servant is not greater than his lord; neither he that is sent greater than he that sent him.
John 13:14-16

My Katie('s) Baby (Shower)

2011-08-11T11:41:00.000-07:00

You know those pregnant women who are itty bitty from the back, but from the front look like they have a basketball stuffed under their shirt? That's my Katie. Itty bitty beautiful with a basketball under her shirt. She was in town for just a weekend and I got to try my hand at the world of baby showers.

I've thrown my fair share of bridal showers in my day and I like to think I know how to pull one off by now but I'll tell you what, baby showers are a whole different ballgame! You can't count on inappropriate gifts or games to keep people interested in the event (that's just tacky anyway... right...) but when it comes down to it everyone hates baby shower games. Tasting baby food or guessing poop-looking chocolate bars melted into diapers is not my idea of fun. I just wanted everyone to be able to enjoy one another's company and ultimately, for the party to be lovely, just like Katie.

I'm happy to report that if I were to pick one word to describe the shower, lovely would be it. I couldn't have done it by myself. Financially, creatively, and culinarily (that's the adverb for culinary, thank you), I'm a bit of a deadbeat, but several attendees offered services at salads; Beth should be paid for her ability to make itty bitty pink cupcakes, meringues, and strawberry fudge; and I owe my mom and sister-in-law gold for pulling together decorations, including a delicate diaper cake and diaper wreathes on the front door.
Decor:

As for activities, after a healthy amount of time lunching, I passed out these Wishes for Baby cards, which, I must say, turned out just wonderfully. I had to pester a few people to fill them out but some people were playful, some were serious, all were meaningful.

There were somewhere near 25 guests at the shower, and any time you have that many presents, people get bored. Nothing against gift givers, there's just so many times you can ooh and ah over baby gear. So, to keep people busy, I pre-cut several yards worth of baby-colored tulle that would end up as a tutu (about 200 6-8 inch strips per skirt). Katie was a ballerina, so of course her little girl should be too! I sewed about a half yard of elastic as a waistband and, with the help of a baby-sized stuffed animal, got the skirts started prior to the shower, alternating different shades of pink on one and different shades of purple on another (I had already completed an example teal tutu that was worn around the waist of a teddy bear sitting on the piano). I gave instructions just before gift opening started and let people tie to their hearts content, passing the stuffed animal when they were ready to pay attention to gifts again. Both tutus were finished just as Katie was opening the last present. Perfect timing!

I wish I had taken better pictures, but I did get somehow manage to get a crystal-clear one with tutus on mine and the guest of honor's heads, Carnival-style. Of course!
Bring on the babies!

Prayer sent around the world [December 2006]

2011-08-09T16:52:00.000-07:00

After trudging down a long, road filled with mangy dogs and up to the fifth floor of a sherbet orange apartment building, new converts Tik and her husband (whose name I don't recall) aren't home. Tik is one of at least four contacts on our list who lives on the top floor of elevator-less buildings and I am SO over it. My fanny pack waist pack feels like it's a hundred pounds even though all I have is a Thai Book of Mormon, mini English Book of Mormon and a few pens. It must be a hundred degrees outside and the air feels stale and heavy. What sounds nice is getting into Tik's apartment, a cool glass of water from a refilled Coke bottle. Tik and her husband have a huge Linkin Park poster on their wall, and a couch, accoutrements rare for the people we visited. Sometimes people have a bed, usually a small coffee table, but rarely a couch. A couch sounded great right about now, and cool tile on my hot feet. But no one's home and after we decide to wait for a minute for her to appear the long street we just walked up to get here. I lean my whole body against the balcony, sure that the bright orange building means it's clean enough, and internally complain about people who are late, flaky, or who, for whatever reason, make me have to wait outside for them when all I want to do is sit on their floor and drink their cold water so my brain will start to work again.

A few minutes into our grace period (slash my internal rant), my demeanor changes entirely and I'm ready to bound onward, ever onward, glorying in His name. It's a strange change and it comes quickly, like a well that was dried and cracking is now more than full, splashing over the edges that were brittle seconds prior, not filled drop by drop, or even by flash flood, but just in an instant.

The amazing part of this story, and why I still remember it more than the other thousands of times I was weary and over the heat is that I knew, and I mean it, I knew that my resurgence of energy and vigor came from a prayer my mom said. It was just obvious to me, no question about it. As Sister Sopa and I made our way back down the stairs to whatever backup plan we were going to follow, I counted backwards the hours from here to there, there to here. It was about 5 pm in Thailand, something like 7 am Seattle time, right when my mom would be up and about, getting ready for her day.

I'm sure my mom prayed hundreds of prayers on my behalf while I was on my mission, and at other times in my life, and I'm sure many of them bouyed me up and kept me safe. But this one prayer I know, again I emphasize that I know, certainly and honestly, that it made a difference that day, in that moment.

Reaching back

2011-08-08T10:10:00.000-07:00

While my blog bounces around from rant and rave to travelogue, it mainly acts as a diary; 'a living memoir, so my posterity doesn't mess it up' as the tagline states. In the spirit of recording my personal history and capturing memories that stick with me, I'm going to start including belated posts from the near and distant past, the ones I've forgotten to write about.

Fair warning, time might get a little bendy

T-Mobile Customer Service

2011-08-03T08:38:00.000-07:00

Everybody knows it: T-Mobile has the worst coverage of all the major cell phone carriers. Where Verizon can hear me from the depths of the mountains and AT&T has a map flooded in bold colors, put me in a basement or sadly, even my bedroom and my T-Mobile coverage goes out the window. Even still, I have been a proselytizing T-Mobile customer since the days of candy bar Nokias. Every time I was in trouble with my minutes, my bill, or anything related to my phone, T-Mobile was there for me, with saccharine greetings and quick fixes. Who cares if I can't make a phone call when I need to, I thought, when cheerful friends were there to bail me out when I underestimated my usage or couldn't figure out what plan was best for me.

But times have changed and I no longer laud T-Mobile. Their coverage hasn't changed but their service has plummeted. In the last four months, I have called T-Mobile Customer Service line more times than I have fingers and have only once hung up the phone without frustration curdling in my lungs and swear words rattling in my brain. I can't understand them, they can't understand me, miscommunication is at an all-time high. I'm not opposed to call centers in Mumbai, but when the last five people have told me I need a Change of Responsibility and you can't even pronounce that, I have a problem. When navigating the automated call system is like breaking into the Pentagon, I have a problem. When the autmated call system disconnects me three times in a row because I can't guess the right word for Operator, Customer Service, or Complaint, in the right order, I have a problem. When it takes four tries to cancel an AutoPay for an individual no longer on the account, to transfer responsibility to a new plan, to resolve issues deemed entirely my fault when Customer Service Representatives from bygone eras would have worked through them with me, I have a problem.

I have a problem with T-Mobile. And it's ruining my day.

You win, Paris.

2011-07-30T12:24:00.000-07:00

Remember this?

Well I've finally caved.
Hello summer!

There were never such devoted sisters

2011-07-26T21:00:00.000-07:00

I'm just now getting over the depressing fact that my sister doesn't live by me, and that I don't live by her. ... And by 'getting over' what I really mean is 'putting it out of my mind so I don't have to cry myself to sleep at night.' Sisters are the best, aren't they? They might make us a little pathetic and co-dependent, but they are the best.

I have some great friends in my life. People who I have shared wonderful memories and hearts with. But there's something about my sister that simply is bigger than memories and hearts. I just... need her. Some woman named Barbara Alpert, who I think is famous only for this quote, said of a sister,

"She is your mirror, shining back at you with a world of possibilities. She is your witness, who sees you at your worst and best, and loves you anyway. She is your partner in crime, your midnight companion, someone who knows when you are smiling, even in the dark. She is your teacher, your defense attorney, your personal press agent, even your shrink... When we doubt everything about ourselves, [sisters] remind us who we are."

This is Kelsie. She knows me better than anyone, crazy and all. I could write a novel about all the ways she rocks the universe, but we'll start with that she picked me up from the Greyhound station in Mobile, AL at 4:30 am (where I said goodbye to my Filipino friend heading to Texas and wished luck to the woman federal inmate worried about missing her ride to the halfway house and getting in trouble with her parole officer. I had already waved goodbye to the cranky gentleman who was, for some unknown reason, escorted from the back of the bus in handcuffs before we left Atlanta) and for three days I got to remember just how right whoever Barbara Alpert is.

AND (as documented above) how great nieces are! Kaylee learned how to swim without floaties, Riley made me several beaded necklaces, and Saylor just smiled ALL THE TIME. Ferris wheel, Gulf Coast (clean, go figure!), throwed rolls, swimming, and lots and lots of cuddle time. These girls know how to be sisters.

PICK UP THE PHONE!

2011-07-21T22:53:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel like an emotionless robot.

And then I watch this movie, and most especially this scene from this movie, and my insides just almost explode.

Spoiler alert:

Georgia (and 'Bama) on my Mind

2011-07-19T18:13:00.000-07:00

I've been planning a trip to the South for months now, but since my two reasons for travel (Kelsie and Kendall) have probably the most bizarre and unpredictable living schedules of anyone I know (K1 in the military with a frequently changing training itinerary and K2 making the southern sales tour), I had been putting it off for months too. But finally, Kendall's got a deployment date and Kelsie's staying put for a minute (and somehow the two live just 5ish hours from one another) so after a whirlwind Kayak/Expedia/Orbitz/no-name-cheap-flight-finder stress-fest, I booked into Atlanta, GA and out of Mobile, AL, figuring I'd rent a car to get from the first city to the next.

My first three days with Kendall were just how they were supposed to be: easy. Kendall used to live 483 steps up the hill from me (back in the 8th grade when friendship was measured in step proximity) but since about high school, we've never lived in the same place (except for about 6 months in high school when she actually lived with me. How's that for proximity!) so we're accustomed to the whirlwind catch-up weekends (as are we used to making or responding to each others' occasional crisis phone calls).
Kendall is recently engaged (well, long-time engaged, but recently date-set), so naturally, the weekend was appropriately consumed with one of my favorite activities: wedding brainstorming (much more fun than wedding planning, I presume, because wedding planning requires one to make decisions)! In what has to be a world record, Kendall found the perfect silk dupioni wedding dress at Bloomingdales, on sale, and then on clearance (Yeah, I didn't think that was possible either) for less than $15. I wish this luck for myself and anyone besides those suckers who think that spending several grand on a dress you wear once is normal. Atlanta is bigger than I pictured, and didn't quite fit the quaint southern picture I had made in my mind.

But Warner-Robins, Kendall's now hometown does. Her home is beautiful brick with a huge back yard and a (take a sigh with me) screened in back porch. How Southern is that! All she's missing is rockers on the front porch so she could sit and watch the world go by. Warner Robins, and it's slightly larger neighbor Macon, are both that kind of quaint that is more ghetto than charming, which somehow in an unfair equation makes it more charming. None of this manufactured small-town charm you see in tourist towns. This is a small town and that means the roads only sort of make sense, everyone shops at the same grocery store, and the mayor (and everyone important for that matter) has Sunday brunch at the same place.
Peach orchards and cotton fields scattered around the city certainly add to the charm. I am, of course, a co-packing nerd and had to grill the man managing the peach sorting line how they run their number twos and make sure the food bank had a slot in the line. They do, don't worry.

Okay, an event bus ride and stories of Mobile will have to come in a bit.

Me blind, shall SEE!

2011-06-28T21:15:00.000-07:00

I got my first pair of glasses when I was in the fifth grade. I don't remember the board being fuzzy or requesting a visit to the eye doctor, just that I got my glasses a few days before our school's outdoor ed week at Camp Orkila. By the time I got home from camp, my brand new lenses were all scratched up. Its only looking back that I realize how huge those glasses were. Thanks a lot, mom.

I got contacts in the fifth grade too, but didn't wear them much until 7th grade, when my best friend who I was trying with all my little 12 year old heart to keep up with through the first and most awkward stages of puberty ditched her glasses for a more mature (that's ma-toor, not matchur) look. I realized that swimming in contacts was cake as soon as we went on family vacation to Mexico with a family friend-boy that I was crushing on. He was two years older and I wouldn't be caught dead on the beach in those monster goggles. Kathryn and Cam weren''t in glasses and neither again would I be.

Until last week, for four days, as directed by my eye doctor (now, what's the difference between an optometrist and ophthamologist?). After 16 years of hating my bad eyes, I finally cracked and ordered myself some laser eye surgery. This week reminded me of how much I for real hate wearing glasses, all the temple squeezing and nose marking going on, with blurry periphery and glasses falling off my face all the time, made all the more pathetic since my most up-to-date prescriptioned pair (the much more fashionable red, square frame, left) is missing its left ear stem and the one with that's not falling to pieces has a five years old prescription and a shape I'm not sure what I was thinking when I ordered (it's kind of a cross between an oval and a trapezoid if you can picture it).

I was always a contacts girl, ever since I was peer pressured into them at least. I was hard core with gas permeable (hard) lenses until late high school when I realized that the only reason to wear hard lenses is to keep your vision from getting worse (by holding the cornea in place), and my vision was worsening regardless. Hard lenses also last for just about ever, which would have saved me (or my parents rather) some money if I didn't keep losing mine and having to replace them at $100 bucks a pop. So I've been a softy since then, which has gone mostly problem free, except for the occasional torn lens, which is really only a problem when it happens while driving, or riding along in a tuk tuk at 60mph in Cambodia, as has been the case on a few occasions.

But now all that's over. Near-sighted no more. Thanks to Clearly Lasik, a boo ya BizX discount through my dad, and whichever crazy scientist invented PRK technology. I'm officially just plain old glorious sighted. All it took was six minutes (three minutes an eye) and a probably way over-paid doctor who works four days a month (I was the 24th out of 25 surgeries on my day, and the second highest prescription! -7.5 in both eyes. Beat that!), but seriously the nicest guy and most positive staff that could be possible.

I spent almost 2 days straight sleeping, mostly lounging (or... dropping it like it's hot) in sweet outfits like this one. Always with my razor shades, way to big for my face but blocking out the light to meet my needs. But after 2.5 days of recovery, I'm not really light sensitive or all that dry eyed anymore. I'm still only up to 20/25 but that's street legal and it's supposed to increasingly improve over time.

A lifetime of paying for glasses I don't wear, contacts that need to be maintained every day and thrown out every two weeks (orrr three... :)), not being able to see the clock when I wake up or my shampoo when I shower. That mulchy feeling in your eyes if happen to sleep in your contacts. Being able to see the contact rim in photos. A new weirdo optometrist every year. Mini-stress sessions while trying to decipher the letter board at the smallest row or deciding if option or two is clearer when they look almost exactly the same or maybe your eyes are just watering or your eyelashes are bumping the screen and messing up the diagnosis. A hundred thousand contact cases given to you for free, but never when you need them.

So. Over.

Welcome to the family

2011-06-14T22:52:00.001-07:00

Soundtrack: These Boots are Made For Walking by Nancy Sinatra (or a jammin cover by Ella Fitzgerald or smoking (slash a little creepy) by The Legendary Tiger Man)

To my new white cowboy boots with dazzling embroidery and Italian leather knee high boots with a perfect gold buckle:
Welcome to the family. You'll fit right in.

I'm not really a shopper, but I have three weaknesses: dresses, coats, and boots. (And maybe plain v-neck tees that go with just about everything, but I'm not really ready to admit that yet. Nor have I amassed a collection big enough to give me away.) Everything else in my closet wears until it's threadbare. I've been putting off buying new jeans and bras for months. Don't even get me started on tennis shoes. Not even jewelry does it for me (unless I steal it from my much more stylish than me mother of course).

For dresses I love to window shop (mostly online), impulse buying on a very rare occasion. For coats, I research long and well for a good, warm investment, few and far between. Boots, well boots just come to me.

Here's a candid family photo (left to right, back to front), including new additions:Three sturdy weather boots:

Warm and fuzzy Uggs [fake-o from China last Christmas]

Snug and happy Sperry rain boots [SUPER EXTRA clearance at Nordstrom. $25]

All-purpose grey boots that match everything and can be worn in or out of pants or with dresses, in the snow or rain or on a sunny day [impulse bought at Marshall's. $40.]

Four floppy (see above) boots:

Brown zip-up heels [my first pair of boots purchased from the only vintage shop in Provo, Coal Umbrella. $30.]

Sleek black to dress up or dress down, depending on the occasion [Christmas, from the lady Knudsons]

Italian leather knee high boots with a perfect gold buckle [Georgetown' 'Trailer park' fair. $14.]

Short, ruffled, suede boots, dainty and tan [For Christmas, from my sister-in-law]

Two totally smokin' cowgirl boots:

Red [I asked my mom for hers years ago, then proceeded to unsuccessfully try to steal them from her until she finally bought me these babies for Christmas last year]

White [Georgetown' 'Trailer park' fair. $24.]

I love me some already broken-in, blister free shoes, and consider it nothing less than a miracle that every pair of boots that I have fallen in love with at first sight at a consignment store (or street fair, as it seems to be) just happen to be itty bitty just like my size 6 feet. Miraculous, I tell you, because most other venues seem to perpetuating size discrimination against us petites.

I can't seem to get on board with those bondage looking sandal boots that were crazy big last year and I hope they are going away. I have a secret wish for sassy thigh highs but will never in a million years buy them.

It's a happy family of footwear that makes each drizzly, snowy, or sunny day a joy. Oh, glorious boots, so functional and stylish, making a statement while keeping my feet toasty. The only sad thing about summer coming is fewer days to wear my boots.

Oh me of little faith

2011-06-09T10:58:00.000-07:00

Soundtrack: Doubting Thomas by Nickel Creek

Last August, my Bishop recommended me to be a temple worker. Essentially this means a weekly six hour stint at the temple, helping out as needed. I love the idea of volunteering my spare time in the most peaceful place on earth every week. But at the time, there were several reasons why I didn't feel like it was for me. And that was that.

About a month ago, I popped into the temple on a whim and got one of those overtake your heart and brain reminders that that recommendation is still on the table. I thought a lot about it that morning and ended up talking to a member of the temple presidency about it before I left. When I was considering being a missionary, I had had a similar ambiguous "think about it" impression and when I finally talked to my bishop about it, there was no question what I should do. God wanted me to be a missionary. That confirmation came instantly and I really only twice questioned the decision ever again. Once when I realized that the guy who I was dating at the time [and wanted to marry] was most definitely going to get married while I was gone, and again when I first got to Thailand and realized that Thai is hard, 100 degrees is hot, and being a missionary is really hard. Both times, I looked back at that initial conversation with my bishop and remembered the certainty I felt. Of course I want to fill out my papers. God wants me to be a missionary and there is no reason I wouldn't follow that call.

I was hoping that I would get a similar strong feeling one way or the other of DO THIS, or DON'T in my conversation with the temple counselor and his wife. They talked about how much the temple needs and appreciates young people volunteering their time and I could let them know when works best for me. Didn't sound or feel like a call from God to me.

Well, at least not that I paid attention to. I called my dad on my way home and talked it out with him. Talked to a couple friends who are currently temple workers, picked the brains of plenty other close friends since then, talked to my current bishop again. It's several weeks later now and with every conversation I have about whether or not I should be a temple worker, the impression is the same: the temple doesn't necessarily need you right now, but you need the temple.

I'm groaning now (out loud) as I write this because I'm really having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that I know that being a temple worker will the best thing for me right now. For the same reasons being a missionary was the best thing I could ever do. For the same reasons that proper sacrifice brings us happiness. Because God knows us, and what we need. I know. I know!

So why am I having such a hard time with just doing it?

Among other things, I have serious issues committing my time, especially such a large and regular chunk as that. Pathetic, I know, but six hours a week somehow feels like a lot. I aimed to pop in to the temple today, and ended up accidentally falling asleep in my bed instead. Oops!

Thomas was an Apostle who wanted to feel Christ's wounds after He was resurrected before being convinced that it was in fact Jesus Christ in front of him. He was dubbed 'Doubting Thomas' for his lack of faith and follow-through. How's that for a legacy?

There is a positive spin (thank you Christianity for always looking for that). After seeing proof, Jesus blessed him for his testimony, and added "Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed." According to Wikipedia, he was also called Thomas the Believer.

Sometimes it's hard to believe. Sometimes it's hard to remember the miracles I've experienced and confirmations I've received. It's hard to want to make the sacrifices that produce faith.

I don't want to be a Doubting Thomas. I echo Nickel Creek in the lament, "Please give me time to decipher the signs. Please forgive me for time that I've wasted... I'm a Doubting Thomas. I'll take your promise, though I know nothing safe. Oh me of little faith."

I will be a temple worker, I just need a minute.

I take it back. Life sucks.

2011-06-06T10:24:00.000-07:00

Snotty sneezing, throaty wheezing, I'm coughing up a storm,
I'm stuck in bed with a whirling head, as is, with colds, the norm.
But on top of the pile of tissues and slime, my cold is just the first
most noticeable ailment, of a pitiful list, but certainly not the worst.
My back is red, and legs are too, since yesterday was warm and blue
so my skin is hot, and stinging a lot more strong and quick than I ever thought
a day at the lake and weeding my lot would have or should have ever brought.
Add in cramps from my monthly curse, which has symptoms that are much too diverse
and frankly, for me, a bit too perverse to discuss on a blog in rambling verse.
Sick and burned and ovulating, you can see why the day is blah and frustrating.
I'm ready to sleep, to forget all my pain. My brain can't sustain or maintain such a drain.
But first I'll just publish my rhyming complain

t.

Lemonade!

2011-06-03T16:40:00.000-07:00

This photo was taken time-adjusted (i.e. I was sleeping several minutes before I took it, not while I took it. Great effect though, right?

Summertime is here. Not blue sky, fake you out and it's still cold summertime. Summertime, hot enough I want to rip of my skinny jeans and scream for lemonade summertime. And it couldn't have come at a better time. It has been 8 years since I've had a winter in Seattle and while I still feel heaven blessed to have only really had like 5 days of even kind of snow since last November, it really is soggy here. For a so many months in a row. I've gotten more colds than I ever remember getting even though, quite frankly, my hygiene has improved since I was here last.

I'm just getting over a cold I either caught from my coworker, roommate, officemate or one of my donors (my favorite new food bank donor, btw, he's da bomb!). Or easily some other stranger who sneezed in my direction some time in the last week. But now I'm laying in my perfectly manicured back yard (thanks to Anya and her parents who power-washed away the wilderness of moss that covered the patio and my neighbor Ray, who mows for us every week, because, you know, that's what neighbors do. Neighbors apparently also fix your toilet, get you in locked doors, lend tools, and always wear overalls. A+ Ray for doing all of the above while maintaining a perfect Santa-like beard and twinkle in his eyes and not being creepy at all. A tough feat for anyone). Just woke up from the most glorious afternoon nap (this is the payoff for getting to work at 7 am). Loving my yard and my dried out nose.

Now, back to my book: The Legend of Colton Bryant. A dusty cowboy from Wyoming needs my attention.

I'm sweaty!

Sade please

2011-06-01T08:40:00.000-07:00

This song by Sade [Shaa day is not phonetic but it is correct] has been my 'take a deep breath remember to slow down, everything is going to be just fine' song of the week (not that I have one every week. Just most weeks).

On repeat.

I woke up from a dream 3 times in the last couple weeks with the end chorus in my head and would forget the lyrics as I came out of my morning fog so I couldn't identify the song. Pandora came to the rescue by playing it on my Tracy Chapman station (yes I have a Tracy Chapman station, don't you?).

It's just so flowing and smooth. You can hear in her voice burnt orange sunset and glittering berries (0:05) that the video portrays. Fern Gully (1:15) and what looks like a Salvador Dali painting (2:12). And btw, Sade looks like a Nigerian Maya Rudolph.

Camping

2011-05-21T18:43:00.000-07:00

Larrabee State Park.

Fresh air. Fire snacks. Lots of smiling and being cold. And the delicious shower that washes the smoke out of my hair. Let camping season begin!

Happy spending

2011-05-21T10:37:00.000-07:00

Isn't it funny how we justify expenses? There are a few purchases I've been needing to make lately that I keep talking myself out of because they feel expensive. I only kind of need to fix the rock chip in my windshield, but it costs $40, so do I really need to? My tennis shoes are pretty pitiful looking, but they get the job done. But that white eyelet dress that just screams summertime lovely is just $40! And what's another dinner out between friends?

7 year old bucket list

2011-05-15T19:11:00.000-07:00

Cleaning up the other day I stumbled on an old notebook, in which I had scribbled down a bucket list- things I wanted to do before I die. Scribbled probably isn't the best word to describe the list, as I distinctively remember going through weeks of brainstorming and several drafts before settling on the following 41 to-dos. Brooke and I would talk about how it was important that items that made it onto the final list not be fleeting interests of casual hobbies, but rather things that we would be legitimately disappointed if we did not complete them by the end of our lives. I cut down travel whims and tried to get to the core of what I wanted.

I'm still on board with most.

Fast forward seven years, (maybe eight?) and it's time for an update. I've bolded the ones still incomplete. Commentary where necessary.

Live in Africa (That passion started early)
Go past the Arctic/Antarctic circle (I'm thinking Alaska. Northern Lights. and the Iditarod)
Bring one soul to Christ (Who knows how to tally this one, but I know that Dif belongs on this list.)
Kiss a smoker (Prague. In the cathedral square. It was a hit and run peck and he was beautiful.)
Be pregnant (but not just yet, thanks!)
Write a book
Sky dive (I so skydove Kapowsin. Not as fun as hanggliding, but well worth the massive headache)
Get married
Find the perfect wool winter coat (Ohhh, it still hurts to talk about. Gray. Mid-calf length. Vintage. Three big, perfect buttons. Silk lining. $8! Perfect. Lost in the abyss of my house while I was on my mission. I might have cried)
Graduate from college (Cheeeeck!)
Fall deep in love (....define "deep", Kami of 2003...)
Read the entire standard works (Leviticus was touch and go, but I made it!)
Visit every continent (I'm looking at you, Australia.)
Live in another country at least one year (huzzah!)
Dip feet into Ganges River
Call into a radio talk show (Still working up the courage for this one)
Be at least conversational in 6 languages (One romance language [Spanish], at least one non romance language [Swahili] , at least one non-Latin based alphabet [Thai] down, one biblical language and two freebies to go)
Road rip across the US
Have a romantic moment in the rain (Rowboat and a dramatic farewell are helpful to make it memorable)
Go on a safari (ruined zoos for life)
Go to a hot spring in Iceland (I had me two chances this year and blew both. Bust.)
Stay up all night with loved ones (maybe check?)
Ice skate on a frozen pond
Create some piece of art and display it at home
Pose for a painting
Own a pet a love it (who has to make a goal to love a pet? I do.)
Build a snowman from a season's first snow (Surely I've done this. If not, I'm over it)
Build or refinish furniture for my home (Boom! The first of many, I hope)
Cook a full course meal (What is that, four courses? Five? I could do that)
Win a competition
Be a mother (Just in case #5 somehow flops :/)
Have an important occasion where hair/makeup/outfit look perfect (I was a bridesmaid at Raelle's wedding, and it really did just work. Back in my blonde a babe o'licious days)
Own a car (mmhmm)
Own a home
Maintain good credit (Ongoing, I suppose, but so far so good!)
Give a perfect kiss (How do you tell that, really. Measurable goals next time. Anyone who'd like to fess up to receiving a perfect kiss from me, the report is welcome so I can get my bold on and check it off the list!)
Get a perfect kiss (I actually remember thinking 'check that one of my bucket list!' More perfect to come, surely.)
Teach a child a skill that will change their life (another tough one to measure. Not too worried about it)
Work for an NGO for development (Questionable grammar, but I'd say hunger relief counts!)
Go through the temple - receive endowment (thoughts on this soon to come)
Go through temple with entire family (I don't remember being all together since we've all been endowed)

18 down, 23 to go. Not a bad pace, eh?

Dancing in 2D

2011-05-13T10:37:00.000-07:00

I just love this.

Looking through the comments on YouTube, everyone sees a different story, as the artist intended. She's dead and he's grieving, finally seeing her absence as a shadow; She's putting up a front and doesn't want to be vulnerable;

He wants her until she wants him, then he changes his mind.

What do you see?

Obama on Osama

2011-05-02T09:16:00.001-07:00

For some reason, I can't stop thinking about Obama's announcement of Osama's death (how many people confuse those names, I'd love to know) so I decided to break it down. Come, join me.

0:00-0:20 Fast facts, just like I like 'em.

0:20-1:20 Am I heartless to be annoyed that Obama spent so much time giving us a syrupy rendition of 9/11? It was a big deal, of course! But Obama's painted picture of billowing smoke and empty tables was more distracting than it was uplifting. Maybe I was too young or far-removed for 9/11 to really be affected by this narrative but to me, Monday's event is not about closure, it's about what it could mean for the future of the fight against anti-American support.
1:20-1:50; 8:13-9:18 Way to bring it back to unity!!
1:50-1:59; 4:00-4:03; 7:15-7:18 Justice. Isn't that just a pretty word for revenge?
3:08; 3:30; 3:40; 3:51; 4:64 It's all about you, I guess. Is that a good way to assert that you do in fact have military prowess, or does it just make sound like your part was as big as they guy who jumped from the helicopter and shot OBL in the head? I dunno.

2:22-2:55; 3:33-3:35; 6:29-6:50; 7:21-7:58 The sacrifice of military is really so great. I want to punch people who don't get this. I will punch them.
4:13-4:17; 7:44-7:50 Wonder who was part of that team... Anyone I know? Maybe?
5:00-5:30 Thank you for both the reminder that we don't hate Muslims and that Bush didn't hate them either
6:18-6:27; 7:57-8:10 This is a much more moving homage to the importance of this event.
4:30-4:40 This is why Osama Bin Laden's death is important
4:47-5:00; 6:52-7:09 There's a long battle ahead of us

Besides a few moments of dissatisfaction, I'm happy with Obama's speech. I hope that as the inevitable dissection of the last ten years and the last three days and what they mean for our future, Americans and the media who inform them and shape their opinions can remember the last minute of this address:

And tonight, let us think back to the sense of unity that prevailed on 9/11. I know that it has, at times, frayed. Yet today’s achievement is a testament to the greatness of our country and the determination of the American people.

The cause of securing our country is not complete. But tonight, we are once again reminded that America can do whatever we set our mind to. That is the story of our history, whether it’s the pursuit of prosperity for our people, or the struggle for equality for all our citizens; our commitment to stand up for our values abroad, and our sacrifices to make the world a safer place.

Let us remember that we can do these things not just because of wealth or power, but because of who we are: one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.
Thank you. May God bless you. And may God bless the United States of America.

Maybe

2011-04-28T18:31:00.000-07:00

From the draft vault...

Making life plans as a single person, especially a single person who anticipates joining forces with someone at some point, is a funny game of embracing independence and living life while leaving room for a someone special to sidle up and live along with you. Decisions on where to live, what to buy, and how to plan for the future affect and will be affected by this elusive someone, which sometimes makes a single girl feel like she's frequently amending her Plan B.

I've been chatting with an old acquaintance, now a financial planner, and he keeps grilling me on my current saving schedule, my intentions for paying for my future kids' missions and college educations, and most confusing of all, my THREE YEAR PLAN. Sorry, Travis, I don't know if three years from now I'll be working, schooling, or making babies. I could be here, I could be there, I could be trouncing around the Saraha Desert for all I know. It's not that my life depends on a man, but fact of the matter is that if the man fits me, I'm happy to fit my more malleable plans to fit with his.

It's like this song from Annie. Little orphan Annie goes about her day musing over her elusive parents, picturing them in their day to day activities of bill-paying and piano; wondering if they're strict, if they collect ashtrays and art, if they've sewn her a closet full of clothes. All these things would affect Annie if she found them, and ultimately she admits that it doesn't matter as long as they are hers. Good thing, since Daddy Warbucks had to have been about the furthest thing from what how she pictured the rest of her life going (Good thing it wasn't Tim Curry and Bernadette Peters, really what creeps!).

I, likewise, go about my life, occasionally musing over what he is like, and how matching lives him will affect my life. Maybe faraway or maybe real nearby, he may be working or schooling, owning or renting. Betcha he's young and smart, and has some passion, though what it is is less important than that he loves it, and will love me. It's a crapshoot, really.

So maybe now it's time, and maybe when I wake, he'll be there calling me baby

Maybe

Hell's Angels, here I come

2011-04-27T16:23:00.000-07:00

BAM! Tough old men in beards and leather couldn't strike a scarier picture than this.

For weeks now, well ever since the sun started reflecting on Lake Washington for more than 5 hours a day, I've had the urge to bike across the I-90 bridge. There's a trail that starts probably up in the mountains somewhere, winds around the southern rim of Lake Sammamish, over Mercer Island, crosses the world's 2nd longest floating bridge, heads up a hill, through the Mt. Baker tunnel (!) and into downtown. My commute catches the second half of that trail (left) and every day I couldn't help but notice the dedicated bicyclists peddling hard through rain or shine in abslutely ridiculous neon. This is a far cry from the hellish bicycling of Bangkok, where more effort is spent dodging lorries and motorcycles, and keeping decent than bulking up massive leg muscles and/or enjoying the ride. This way didn't look too bad (except for in the rain, fog, snow, or at 5 am, or in the dark) and I wanted to join them!

So I bought a bike (used frame with newer parts).

Then found someone who lives and breaths bikes (literally).

Then BIKED IT!

Cake-o-rama, I'll tell you what. 2011's first day of 60 degrees plus and I got the best view.
Or maybe me taking in the view is the best view...
Observations from my first trail:
1) Helmets don't look good on anyone (seriously, look at the picture. Snazzy red isn't helping)
2) Big hills are sometimes easy, small hills are sometimes hard. I don't know why.
3) Bicyclists are WAY into their gear, and WAY too into neon, but they are SO friendly
4) There is a whole web of bicycle trails I had no idea existed
5) I need to get me some padded shorts

Parking with strangers

2011-03-31T23:08:00.000-07:00

There are few thing weirder than the cell phone waiting lot at the airport. Especially the Sea-Tac Airport, where driving into the lot feels kind of like you just got tricked into driving yourself into the impound.

I already try to avoid eye contact with neighbor cars at stoplights (unless of course we're racing. Or making flirty eyes). Here, it's almost impossible to keep to yourself. Even if you manage to park facing a wall, or in Sea-Tac's case, one of the four barbed wire topped chain link fences surrounding the lot, neighbor car are coming and going at a pace that rivals my attention span when playing DJ with a loaded ipod (i.e. lots of turnover) and every time they come or go, there's that moment of concern where you don't really think the driver won't hit you while pulling in or out.

My luck tonight was a middle slot where you're staring straight into their faces, or headlights, as sometimes is the case, because no one expects to stay long in the park and wait, and why turn off your brights anyway. Most people are either pretending to sleep (because it just isn't possible to come anywhere near REM with an arrival just a phone call away. If you wanted to sleep, you'd have stayed home to nap and made your friend wait with their bags like a normal passenger), keeping busy with phones, books, or newspapers (the best kind of neighbors, in my opinion), and no matter what, everyone is eying the few randoms who pace around the lot with their dogs or cell phones as if they didn't know that there's a wholly captive audience in all these parked cars bored out of their minds with nothing else to look at but their wandering. It's a like a drive-in theater with no entertainment.

The guy next to me seemed to be coming and going from somewhere in the back of the lot (maybe there are snacks) and rummaging around his trunk, which was unfortunate since I was parked in and he was parked out so we exchanged obligatory smiles three different times until he finally stayed put and left me be to make mental commentary on all the neighbor cars' choices of rear view mirror hangings (it doesn't take flowers, ballet slippers,or a grad cap pendant to remind me that I don't plan on decking out my car in that fashion [though it does make me miss Thai taxis with enough Buddha bling and fresh jasmine hanging from the mirror that the driver has to hold it steady around corners]).

Better off testing your luck idling at the arrival terminal.

Dark Chocolate What?

2011-03-28T19:05:00.000-07:00

Get yourself ready for pure anti-oxidant and calcium rich, dairy/soy free, drink straight from the carton goodness.

Dark Chocolate Almond Milk by Silk. Better than milk and then some.

Let's talk about a dream come true.

(Get a coupon!)

Fighting Entropy

2011-03-27T09:53:00.001-07:00

Entropy – a measure of disorder; the higher the entropy the greater the disorder

I'm looking around my bedroom now, somehow surprised by the disaster of space. It's as if my closet has revolted against me, along with drawers and shelves, and all are refusing to keep my things in order. Or maybe I'm just a lazy bum. How does it get like this? I swear I hang up my shirts at the end of the day and put my shoes and laundry in their proper homes. When that falls behind, I swear I Mary Poppins it up, tidying in the high-speed, spoonful of sugar kind of way. But still, this. Chaos.

The Law of Entropy has way more to do with life than with thermodynamics. No matter how much energy is exerted to keep order, disorder inevitably follows. Not to be a cosmic pessimist, but don't you ever just wish there was a pause button?

It's why my room isn't clean, my hair has a rat's nest of tangles no less than 4 hours after I brush it smooth, my purse is filled to the brim with odds and ends (when did this staple remover get here anyway?). It's why I'm always just catching up with my body's incessant call for another shower, shave, and bowel movement. It's why even after the good and clean I feel after taking the sacrament on Sunday, by Saturday next, I'm due for a repeat.

I'm fighting entropy at work, to keep food donors from succumbing to the much easier route of dumping their food product. I'm due for an oil change; my glasses are broken, my toenail polish is chipped all but the big toe. The sun is burning "out", the US economy and position as world superpower is deteriorating, people are becoming less intelligent, moral, and motivated. Blah blah blah, the downward escalator keeps moving, right?

Entropy.

Disorder.

Just sayin'.

The light

2011-03-14T14:41:00.000-07:00

Love this song. Love the flowers in Rapunzel's braided hair. LOVE floating lanterns* and their jellyfish effect on the sky. Harmony and hope. If only her eyes weren't so big and his goatee so creepy.

*first time I floated these suckers a tree almost caught on fire. It's harder than it looks.

Getting involved...

2011-03-09T19:32:00.000-08:00

I remember a few years ago I was dating this guy who was "into politics." Obama was in his breakout days and we spent our first date sparring over the guy's flaws (mostly me) and merits (mostly him) while accidentally hiking up the backside of Mt. Timpanogos (and mostly agreeing on everything). Dreamy, right? Months later, as elections season escalated and everyone joined the zeal, he surprised me by one-upping the "into politics" fakers who can talk the talk with the help of MSNBC's election guide by supporting his local representative, Don Jarvis, one of Provo's only conservative Democrats. I set up a sign in my yard, talked him up to sound cool, and sadly, came away from the campaign with little else than a t-shirt.

I was excited about the idea of local politics, but had very little idea what that even meant. This was made especially clear to me a month ago when our public policy intern quizzed me on what a State legislator is and does and I failed miserably. The intern was prepping us for a work-sponsored field trip to the Capitol, where we'd go to lobby for hunger relief funding.

Why didn't anyone ever tell me that ONE, You're allowed to just GO to the Capitol and knock on your legislators' doors and TWO, They WANT to hear what you think?

DW, with all your activism oozing from your pores, you failed me.

Ooorrrr maybe they've been telling me this for years (and by 'they' I mean teachers, public service announcers, strangers on the streets with clipboards...)

I wowed the pants off one of District 5's representatives (figuratively, jeez!) and he wants to come by and see what we food bankers are all about. I also ran into my friend Troy who, in an odd turn of events, was there lobbying for some Pharmaceutical something or other.

No need for nitty gritty details at this point but the point is this: local politics rock socks! I could totally get into this. Federal lawmaking, schmoozing and decision-making seem so far away, all wrapped up in the mess that is The Man. Olympia is where decisions are made that affect my day-to-day life. And, though I'm sure there are doubters, I really do believe that I can have an impact on how those decisions are made. Maybe there's a locally-elected position someday in my future.

Good thing that 92 years ago women joined forces with posters like this, Comptroller Knudson has a ring to it...

Mister Blue Sky

2011-03-05T13:10:00.000-08:00

This morning I woke to bright blue skies. I lazily ignored my impulse to seize the day and fill the precious hours of brightness with a hike, bike ride, or finagling a rowboat and lake launch site. Instead, I set up shop on the patio porch and soaked in the Vitamin D, just waiting for seratonin to kick in (seratonin = serum + tonic, i.e. happy juice). I lay like the family lab, curled up with a stack of books, my phone and laptop within arms reach. The sun hit my knees, shoulder, and best of all, my cheek, temple and right eye, warming not just the surface of my skin but deep into my brain, an area that rarely receives such warmth. When my brain begins to boil, I move to the shade, and let just my feet enjoy the sun bath. The happy juice has kicked in and I'm pulled together again. My stuffy nose is drying, I have forgotten about 33,000 pounds of rotten onions, delayed apples, and social fatigue. I just need to calm down already. Just a taste and I can handle a few more days of rain.

As long as I have ELO's sweet 'do and shades in my life

Or a little moving on music

I have an ID...a

2011-02-23T22:54:00.000-08:00

Pulled out my student ID card the other day - what, this old thing? Helloooo bangs!
and had a bit of a moment when my eyes settled on three sections of the card:

WHAT!

That's like, tomorrow. I almost mourned the expiration of the student status I held for as long as I can remember. It offered discounts, admission, and a free pass to have the world expect very little from me.

Then I remembered the rest of the cards in my wallet and had a little celebration. Let's take a look at my current cards on hand...

Complete with sideswept hair and drop earrings. I'll say yes bulk food, free samples and the BEST DEAL ON GAS YOU'LL GET ANYWHERE.

Perhaps I'm scamming off my mother's membership, but even if she quit, I'd get my own card. Gas is seriously a good 15 cents cheaper here than anywhere else. If you drive much, the membership pays for itself through gas savings alone. Plus, cheap razors and the exclusive feeling of admission to something special every time they check your card on the way in and receipt on the way out. They treat their employees well, their produce is heralded as the best quality around, and I'm telling you people, the gas prices are amazing. Unfortunately the selfish pieces of crap at Corporate don't donate any of their product to the food banks, but still, Go Costco!

I have child-like awe for the giant moving statue man hammering away in front of the Seattle Art Museum. Whoever had that idea wins.
I got a membership late last year and now get discounts at random stores in the area who love art (like the framers I'm planning on using soon) as well as invites to next month's REMIX, described as an "evening of performances, talks, dancing and more at this late-night creative explosion!" Who wouldn't want first dibs on such events?

I don't frequent the library as much as I want to. Fact of the matter is I love the way bookstores are arranged, but I'm far too cheap to buy books at some 20 bucks or more a pop. For my reading goals and increasingly long to-read list, the library should be the way to go. I wish they were organized more like bookstores and less like 'Fiction' 'Non-fiction' 'Magazines.' I was in a good groove last summer but have lately fallen into purchasing books and accumulating them, a chapter or so into each, on the headboard shelf of my bed. Here's to a reminder that renting books is a GOOD IDEA.

This baby isn't new. This card is flimsier than the rest, but far more important. It means that I have made promises with God and that I'm keeping them, and it gets me into the House of the Lord, i.e., the LDS temple. If you're not familiar with what makes this such an important building, check out this explanation. God has offered temples as a sacred place to find peace and guidance and I often take for granted how easy it is to come to God and how close the temple is to me. I love the grounds, I love the ordinances done inside, I love wandering around like I'll stumble upon God himself making himself comfortable in the study. I love the temple.

A few more symbols of my current identity:

I lost my license some 8 months ago and have been surviving airport security and occasional Happy Hour seating ID checks with the temporary paper copy, my photo debit card and the plea that "I just lost the hard copy, will this do?" Works like a charm. The goal is to make it to the hard plastic version's expiration date, just a couple months from now.

The green and gold cherry on top is my business card, which is new enough to me still that I like to flaunt it around like a trophy.

I'm happy with my ex-student identity, even if means fewer discounts.

I bring all these cards with me everywhere (along with a small stack of gift cards I always end up wanting to use the one day I take them out of my wallet). Is it really necessary?

The Monks at St. Marks and healing

2011-02-21T12:34:00.000-08:00

Last night I went to hear the monks sing. Every Sunday night at 9:30 the fifteen robed men with angelic voices who make up the Compline Choir at St. Mark's Cathedral chant, hum, and sing peace to a hodgepodge audience of quiet souls who come to hear them. The question I have is, why?

I know why I go- I believe in Christ; I've got a thing for perfect harmony; I like feeling small under high, vaulted ceilings. I know what I believe and can 'amen' most of the words echoing through the cathedral.

I also love people-watching, and during last night's visit I noticed more than ever how many eyes were closed and facing heaven, brows furrowed in contemplation. I can feel their sincerity from the floor seats we share because pews are too crowded, and I wonder, are they praying to God like I am? I have been raised in a church where we are taught what 'We Believe..." until we get to the point where we can testify that 'I Believe.' When am seeking the divine, I know just what I'm looking for, who I am addressing, and most of the time, how I might receive response. But I'm one of some six hundred in attendance, and surely most don't come from my same background. What about the people who are raised to doubt, to question, to disbelieve? And those who are not taught anything? I want to get inside their heads and hearts and see how their process of coming to God is different than mine. Is there something I can learn from them? Many people are not 'taught' religion but feel religious to some degree, whether Christian, spiritual, or otherwise. What are they getting out of the words from the Episcopal Common Book of Prayer?

My Sunday School lesson yesterday was all about healing. In the first five chapters of Mark (and throughout the New Testament for that matter), Christ performs a lot of miracles. The miracles seem to fall under three categories: casting out unclean spirits, healing the diseased, and raising the dead. We don't see these kinds of miracles so much these days, but the categories, I think, remain the same: Christ casts out unclean spirits from us- the disposition to sin. He heals us from our imperfections- spiritual and temporal, any parts of us that are not perfectly Godlike. And to God, there is no lost cause, even the spiritually dead can be healed. No one is too broken to be touched by the power of Christ.

I love that. I appreciate the way my church has helped me articulate how I commune with heaven, but has allowed me room to make it my own. And I'm glad there are places like St. Mark's, accessible to anyone seeking peace or seeking healing.

The Office of Compline from Lucas Anderson on Vimeo.

Oh so cultured

2011-02-14T22:51:00.000-08:00

In the last month, I've been to the Seattle Center's McCaw Hall twice (thrice if you go back to New Year's Ever where I watched the fireworks). Once for the opera, the Barber of Seville, and again for the ballet, Cinderella.

I am AMAZED at how people can manipulate their bodies and voices to make something beautiful and somehow make it look SO EASY. Some (and by some I mostly mean my brothers) will argue the value of dance and stage performance as a powerful medium of art or expression, but after this month's reminder, I'm sold. How it is that you can feel Cinderella's pain as she twirls and sways is beyond me. How you can root so hard for the Count to get his girl when you can't understand Italian makes no sense. Somewhere on those inexplainable airwaves of understanding, the audience just gets it. It's a higher price tag than the av-er-age night out but well worth the event.

(Bugs Bunny's got nothin on this)

(Pay no attention to slipper squeaking, Cinderella's overbite or Prince Charming's oh-so-spandexed behind)

In an entirely different vein, but in the same neighborhood (the King Cat Theater [thank you thank you thank you for passing up the surely tempting alliteration possibility there], I also attended Ignite Seattle. The tagline reads: Enlighten us, but make it quick! and is just that: a night of speakers who present 5 minute speeches about... anything. It's a super nerd fest, but only the best kind of nerds (i.e. my kind) because attendees are people who love to learn about... anything. The Art of Karaoke, The Benefits of House Sharing, The Guy Who Impersonated Neil Patrick Harris on Twitter, Geo-tagged Photos and Their Presence Online, Open-Sourced Participation in Local Politics. The list goes on.
Here's an old one:

You get the idea. Geeked Out. But so great!

The San Francisco Treat

2011-02-01T18:23:00.000-08:00

Makin my way down the West coast (LA, here I come!), I got to go to San Francisco last week for work. I swear, we don't travel much, us food bankers, but January has been a month for the road. The guys who do what I do for the Bay Area put us up at the Mandarin Oriental, a fancy schmancy worldwide hotel I've seen only in Thailand, where all the hi-so (high society, duh) Thais and visitors gather. I celebrated my travel arrangements by preparing for my sunrise-view, California King bed by dancing around in the buff both before and after my luxurious scented bubble bath. I do miss nice big apartments in the city.

The conference was fab. Just 10 or so of us food sourcers representing hunger relief agencies throughout the western US, ripping it up, so to speak. I can't praise the group enough. Dedicated, talented, and a comfortable barrel of laughs, especially after an outrageous Chinatown banquet or a down n dirty talk about produce and how it is we're going to get it out to hungry people with it all overpriced or rotting as it usually is.

As luck would have it (coupled with my pleading persuasion), my friend Mike also had business in San Fran and met me there. We spent the weekend trouncing around a bigger, wider-streeted, cleaner, wetter, warmer, foggier, blue and grayer, hillier, more public-transportation-friendly, Chinese, and finance and tech company-filled version of Seattle. The vibes of the cities are really pretty similar, but anything that could be exaggerated about Seattle is. Except for maybe the green and the mountains. But I hear these aren't far. Seattle also doesn't have Alcatraz, which is well worth the steep $26 buck a pop ticket price. The tour is well done and the view of the city spectacular.

It's not as good, however, as the experience biking across the Golden Gate Bridge. From the Ferry Building, past Fisherman's Wharf, rounding the bay and right up over big red herself, then a glorious downhill into sleepy Sausalito. On a perfect bright blue day. There was a moment about halfway from downtown to the bridge that we coasted through a park that, I'm not kidding you, was so picturesque I think actually sparkled.

Some random pics of site-seeing San Fran and Palo Alto (thank you, Mike for proof that we were there)(and for being a perfect travel buddy!)

Portlandia

2011-01-20T21:11:00.000-08:00

Go Portland, being ironic enough to merit its very own new show from an SNL alum.

"Portland is a city where young people go to retire" Let' meet this winners:

Pretty sure this show is gonna be great.

Oddly enough, growing up just 3 hours north of this soon-to-be iconic city, I didn't ever spend much time there. But fate intervened by staging a food processors conference there last week (nothing says a hoot like food processors, right?). I met up with a friend from Seattle, a good friend of an ex-boyfriend, who, in an odd turn of events, was temporary roommates with a good friend of the subsequent ex-boyfriend, and stayed at my sister-in-law's grandparent's house, who, in an and even more odd turn of events, live in the same neighborhood as the next ex-boyfriend after that. Go figure. This is my life. Rest assured, no ex-boyfriends were contacted during the trip.

I spent the weekend prior to the conference trouncing around downtown, poring over Powell's extensive collection, and eating well beyond my heart's (and stomach's) content. In fact, since the only thing I keep really coming back to when people ask about the city is the food, I figure I might as well immortalize each dish.

Habibi (Lebanese) - Artichoke Heart and Pork Shwarma casserole, with pita. Seriously drool-worthy, every bite.
Henry's Tavern - Okay, no food here, but good, cheap pool, and lots of men.
Street carts (Thai) - khaw khaa muu - life changing. Took me back to Thailand. Worth a three hour trip just to get back to this tender pork, sweet hard-boiled egg, and pickled something. DREAM COME TRUE.
Fire on the Mountain (hot wings) - They've got 16 different sauces. And tots to die for. Deeeelissh.
Voodoo doughnut - A Portland visit is apparently incomplete without it. I skipped maple bar n bacon and some of the more creatively named donuts for a butterfinger-topped ring. Yum.
Southpark Wine Bar - I don't think I'll ever be able to eat crab cakes again. Nothing will ever compete.
3 Doors Down Cafe - homemade pasta in a shape I've never seen before. Fancy schmancy and worth the price in cash and tummy damage (pasta and I don't usually agree).

I wish I got pictures of each dish. Seriously. Maybe I've got a foodie deep down that's just screaming to get out.

Portland, oh Portland, you know I'll be back.

RIP Lenovo, and all you meant to me

2011-01-13T21:28:00.000-08:00

My computer died a bit ago and the moment the broken video card became a reality, I burst into tears. It's a cry I already feel silly about, especially since all I really used the thing for is Facebook, blogging, and Netflix. I'm not much of a crier so it's always a little bit of a surprise when something just a little emotional opens the floodgates. [I sometimes wish I was more able to process inner turmoil through tears. There's an amazing cathartic power in just letting out whatever is festering inside and not worrying about mascara, puffy eyes, or pathetic sounds and faces that are inevitable through the process. I'm working on it. The death of my computer was good practice.] But really, the death of my laptop was about more than my computer.

The laptop was given to me by a boy who was crazy about me. He was the kind of guy who didn't go gaga over girls, but for a minute, I had something like that effect on him. And he certainly did on me. He let me into his usually very private world and it was great. It's both scary and wonderful to have someone let you in where strangers aren't allowed. I've never been very good at opening those doors, even a crack. I came out of that place with a new appreciation for dedication, pride (the good kind), faith, and whatever it is in a man that makes him an admirable leader. I felt in a way that I hadn't in a long time, or ever before.

It was an unusual relationship that ultimately dissolved into an extended back and forth, with a lot of miscommunication, pride (the bad kind), and hurt feelings. There are a lot of things that probably could have been done differently on both sides, but in the end it's something that I just needed to let go of for a lot of reasons. I made that decision months ago. But I still had his computer. It still had his bookmarks and it represented, I think, some evidence that the gaga was real, at least for a while, and I wasn't quite ready to entirely move on from that I guess. How strange that no matter how on board you are logically with an emotional transition, the emotions sometimes just take a while to catch up. Slowpoke emotions, seriously. The death of my computer was a healthy cut of that last thread. What good is a computer that hums as if its working, but will not function properly to its purpose?

There's hope in this borderline traumatic experience. I know what I want and I know what I don't want, making computer shopping all the easier. It is guaranteed that whatever machine comes next will be better for me than the one before. The same goes for a man I know more about what I want; character traits I need, how I want to feel, qualities to avoid. Whatever is next, will be better. For me. For sure.

Now, on to laptop shopping. In the meantime, I've dusted off the old Firstline Dell (also a hand-me-down) that still has Napster bookmarked and is miraculously functioning at full capacity despite a few cosmetic damages (i.e. the entire frame of the screen is hanging on by just a hinge).

Just a rebound, 'til I can find a dreamy replacement :)

Not many people can cover John Mayer and not sound amateur. YouTube diva, Melissa Polinar does this sweet rendition of his song Heart of Life. Really skip to 0:48 to bypass her blah blah talking.

I do know the heart of life is good.

Traffic JAM

2011-01-13T08:03:00.000-08:00

Some people have a problem dealing with this every morning:

It's dark, it's wet, it's sometimes slow (though sometimes not, for no obvious reason). I don't mind it too much most days, mostly because I am empowered by the following praise, given to me daily by a billboard near my office:

I - am - the BEST - singer - - - in the WHOLE - WIDE - CAR. Preetty impressive, I know, right? I have all sorts of proof of my in-transit accolades, difficult to document unfortunately, so you'll have to take 76's word for it.

My billboard was replaced a while back with an ad for Hennessy liquor (stylin') so I forget sometimes how good a front seat performer I am until a real jam comes on and my inner diva comes out. Then it all comes back. Enjoy the show, fellow drivers. I learned these moves in Katie Teddy's big ole' Expedition to the Bring It On Soundtrack back in the days of Kirkland waterfront rounds and gymnastics sugar highs. Moves like this just don't go away. Don't you wish I had my windows down?

Today's party was inspired by the one and only MJ. It worries me a little that Michael is now getting play on the 104.5, the oldie's station. How is it possible that this hunk of sexy moves in FULL SEQUINS gear (I need those boots)(and high waist leggings) (AND the bedazzled crew neck) can share air time Etta James and the Monkees. They didn't have laser lights in the high pelvic thrust during 'the Oldies' era, they just didn't. Though let's take a minute to picture that all up in Etta James and enjoy the moment...
Now, join me on my ride into work today:

Which brings up one of my new favorite guys, Seo Jorge, a Brazilian and his amazing, totally stoned-out version of Michael Jackson's Rock With You. Bring on the Samba for the rush hour home:

Me gusta la tuba

2011-01-08T14:58:00.000-08:00

From all I've heard, I was ready to hate Elizabeth Gilbert and love the scenery shot in the movie Eat Pray Love. Instead, the lasting impression from the movie (besides my gut telling me I should move to Bali) is Tuva Novotny and her audible sigh worthy, classy/sassy/adorable, just the pixie I've been looking for haircut. Too bad her name would sound just like tuba in spanish, or I'd be loving that too. Question is: how short is too short? And would it be best to be blonde to rock it right?
Kind of like Katie's or a little grown out like Paris

Something tells me springtime will bring scissors.

Sidenote: I can't stop listening to this song lately. The band (esp the lead singer [seriously, guy, is that a charm bracelet necklace and almost a mexi-stache??]) look pretty slimy and trying too hard, but I literally sway and smile against my will every time I hear it.

For cars, she couldn't care less

2011-01-03T20:37:00.000-08:00

Grrrrreat news. I just paid off my very first very own big girl car that I bought by my very self! It's a big step for all big girls, one that many take earlier than I had to. Lucky for me, I had the trusty green Chrysler New Yorker to take me through high school. The front passenger seat was stuck all the way forward and the thing was about thirty feet long, but it was spacious inside and all leather! Last I saw the dreamboat it was parked up at Snoqualmie Pass, piled high with snow coming out the windows, left for a blizzardy weekend by its new owner Thomas.

In the early years of college, I moved by foot, except for rare weekends I had my sister's mexi-truck. After the mish, I conveniently stepped into the white Ford Escort left behind by my parents, and it followed me home when I moved back up north. Less than a month after I bequeathed the sweet ride to my little brother, it died. (haha, sucker!)

Car shopping is about the ultimate worst experience ever. Talk about buyer's remorse! I'd never spent a chunk of change like that before and I hope I won't have to do it again for a while. I paid for most of my ride in cash (cuz I'm rich like dat) and worked it out with the bank to pay a portion after the purchase. Goal was to have it paid off by the end of the year.

Done!

And here it is!

Not actually my car, but a green '99 Honda Civic just like it. Beauty, ain't it?

Four months of driving it and here are my favorite things about my car:

Gas mileage
Easy parking
Fold down back seats into the trunk
Heats up quick when it's cold
Cools down quick when it's hot
Green is easy to spot
It's a normal, average car and it'll do me just great!

I can't imagine wanting anything else.

I made curry tonight and the whole house and all my clothes smell like it. Scarf, sweater, coat and everything underneath. Gross.

A little busy...

2010-12-20T20:01:00.000-08:00

Seriously bloggers, could I be more depressing. With all my spouting on and on about hibernating bad days, it should be safe to assume that all I'm doing with Christmas cheer is throwing it out the window and hating my life.

Not so.

I've been keeping busy, even in the darkness and I've got pictures to prove it. A few at least, most of which I've scammed off of Facebook (i.e. Russ). Just a few to tease your imagination (and prove I'm not a full time couch potato). A little bit of Whistler, a throw back to Halloween, Lisa in town, Turkey Bowl, my new boyfriend GSP, sight-seeing Seattle, out dancing, and looking like a rock star.

That said, I have been netflixing it up when occasion permits. Right now: The Way We Were (doesn't everyone know Barbara Streisand is cross-eyed and Robert Redford is the ultimate dreamboat? "couldn't we both win?")

It's the absolute worst...

2010-12-13T23:23:00.000-08:00

I had an awful day today. Busy, hectic, rife with conflict. It's not the worst day I'll ever have, no doubt, but I'm certainly glad the day is over. I hate days like this because they remind me that I'm not immune to negativity and that nagging feeling of 'I can't wait til this is over so I can move on with my life'. To commemorate this most obnoxious feeling, and because it's been a long, tired, cranky week, I have compiled a list of ten other feelings I have felt at some point and just hate.

Don't you hate:

Impatience in situations or regarding decisions where you entirely lack any semblance of control or power (Don't want to talk about today, thank you)
Making eye contact with the person you accidentally cut off or in someway offended via traffic (whooops!)
Finding something on clearance that you bought yesterday at full price (waste of money fail!)
Realizing that he just isn't crazy about you anymore... and that's not going to change (again? really?)
Watching in the rearview mirror after zooming by a parked cop (worse: those lights in the rearview mirror)
3pm after 3 hours of sleep (zzzzzzzzzz)
Losing something you borrowed, especially if it's important to the lender (being forgetful bites you in the butt sometimes)
Missing someone when all you can do to tell them is say 'I miss you' out loud and hope they hear you (sigh)
Waking up for something important 3 minutes before you're supposed to be there (usually when that event is 20 plus minutes and fa harried freshening up away)
Negative feelings towards someone you love (eventually passing doesn't make it any better)

I sure do. And others like them. But I've made cupcakes now and I'm on the up and up. Happy feelings and straight on til morning!

I have a crush

2010-11-22T22:13:00.000-08:00

I have a crush on Marion Cotillard. In her family there's a mime, sculptor, ballerina, and fashion designer. How could she not grow up to be an amazing actress. She is the only French actress to ever receive an Academy Award (for a French film), she received a special 'Order or Arts and Letters' award from the French government for her contributions to French culture. She sings, she dances, she takes breaths away. She has sung with Franz Ferdinand and loves Radiohead. And to tie it all together, she is just adorable! Come, crush with me.

"I am totally overwhelmed with joy and sparkles and fireworks. everything which goes like 'bom! bom! bom!' i just ate all these things and it's happening right here right now."

Broken French is so cute. And so is the voluminous pouf, and 60's flipped out long hair. I want to be her best friend!

Just lovely. and haunting.

Somehow still so lovely. and wise.

hibernating.

2010-11-15T22:32:00.000-08:00

It's dark now. And by now I mean 5pm. Okay, it's actually almost eleven now, but the sky looks just the same as it did five hours ago. I have officially entered winter hibernation patterns. I had forgotten about this whole nine or less hours of daylight thing since the last time I had a Seattle winter some eight years ago. Snow and inversion are a worse sort of enemy in my opinion and I'm glad to have left them in the hands of the skiers and snowbums who think it's a worthwhile price to pay for proximity to powder. But I have to admit, this darkness is more menacing than I remembered.

Every day about 3 pm, when the sun is bright and sometimes even has burned through the clouds for a nice bright blue sky, I make all sorts of plans for the night. A run [for my heart], errands [I'm out of contacts and the ones I have make my eyes burn], out with friends [they're probably not hibernating...right?], evening reading [my to-read pile is now 6 books high. I'm 18 pages into 'Getting Things Done: The Art of Stress-Free Productvity.' It's good], and a little time on one of my projects of the moment [painting my new frames, finding photos for the frames, mastering the electric guitar, etc...].

What I forget every day is that by the time I get home, my run is doused in darkness and rain, and as are an motivation to do anything. Snacks for dinner means no cheap, healthy eftovers for tomorrow, which means another day at my new favorite restaurant, Deli Seoul, where I could get an egg salad sandwich, kimchee, and a donut all in one stop [if only I'd dare]. Every day, the sweet Korean man who runs the place sells me on the day's special, which is always bibimbap, while I hold up the line with my order. I swear I'm perpetually starving, but can't bring myself to fix a proper meal, instead opting for crap snacks and pretty much only the food I know my stomach hates. Maybe if I rounded out my diet, I wouldn't always feel like sleeping for 15 hours the second I walk in the door.

This week I started up a Netflix account. The $9.99 a month free streaming movies and mailed DVDs is actually a fulfillment of my New Year's Resolution to have a permanent enough address by the end of the year that I could justify signing up for something where I couldn't use my parent's address as a stand-in. I'm only in my apartment til March, but it's dark outside and I have apparently lost the will to move once the sun goes down. So movies it is.

I spent my first Netflix night and the following morning compulsively rating movies and being amazed that Netflix can usually guess my rating by within star. On a scale of 1-5 stars I guess that's not too impressive, but it's a fun game to play that doesn't require any movement or much thought. Good for winter. I now have a queue of 38 movies that I'm raring to watch. Most are in the Documentary or Drama categories because those are the movies I always feel compelled to watch but somehow are never in the mood for. Tonight I watched 'Love and Other Disasters' starring Brittany Murphy with an English accent so bad they had to write into the script that she grew up in America to explain it. 37 to go and I'm not even done rating yet. It's gonna be a good winter.

Maybe I'll go running in the morning when the sun is up?

Important

2010-11-05T11:05:00.000-07:00

If you have ever thought that you want to help change the world for the better but didn't know how best to do it, here's an opportunity. The Tipping Bucket helps teeny tiny non-profit organizations to raise money for a project. They have new projects regularly and since the fundraising target is usually just a few thousand dollars, every dollar counts.

I love their tagline, "Prove that NO ONE is too small to change the world." I'm not too small, you are not too small, these individuals with a passion for a cause and the will to change it are not too small. Right now, the Tipping Bucket is on the hotlist to win a $250,000 grant from Pepsi Refresh. Every day you can vote three ways:

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Texting 104182 to 73774

On Facebook!

Go vote. NOW!

Two to T..y..utah

2010-10-10T10:40:00.000-07:00

I bought this round trip ticket to Utah the day after I arrived last time I was there, less than two weeks ago. I'll be honest, I grumbled about the inconvenient timing- just after a long weekend and smack dab in the middle of the work week- but how could I not come back? Napa and Dipu were coming to America and I HAD to be there. I met these all-stars back in '07 when, after months of learning with missionaries and fighting the law of chastity, the two finally moved out from their shared apartment and were baptized. Here's a pictures from Dipu's special day, specially decked out with Napa's feelings for the day, and ever since, as recorded on frequent Facebook posts. "We love Heavenly Father" was what empowered the two to finally move out even though they didn't know when they might ever be able to be married, as Dipu was an illegal refugee from Nepal and had no realistic way to get the correct paperwork.

(After busting through India, he rode stow-away style on a boat from Calcutta to Phuket, then bussed up to BKK. If that's not badass enough for you, once he was caught by immigration police and when asked his home country he reported Burma. Authorities rounded him and other Burmese refugees up and dumped them across the border, at which point he up and walked back, to meet his lovely Napa and subsequently the missionaries several years later. But I digress...)
After almost a year of baptism, Dipu somehow made it back to Nepal, shimmied out the paperwork he needed and hustled back to Bangkok to marry Napa. Since then, the two moved into Dipu's tailor shop (D & D Fashionway, if you're interested. High quality, low price!) to save money for a temple trip to Hong Kong. Here's meat dinner with them in April before I left Thailand, where they told me that since they found the gospel their "love only goes up and up".
Fast forward to October 5, 2010 and I'm with Napa again, this time in the Oquirrh Mountain temple, as her escort and quasi-translator (though her English is decent). After briefly explaining covenants we make with God in the temple, the temple matron asked if Napa had any questions. Napa's answer was simple: "I know. I know God. He know me. He love me." Yes, folks, it is that simple. The next day, I helped Napa into the wedding dress Dipu had made for her (in 24 hours!) and saw them sealed forever in the Salt Lake City temple.
Man alive, if that's not the most amazing experience a person can have, I don't know what is. First of all, Buddhism teaches that after death, the flame that lights the candle of our soul goes out (transferred to a new candle), never to be lit again. Although most Thais believe they will see their dead loved ones again, the Buddhist doctrine pretty clearly states that all these kinds of relationships are impermanent and will not carry on post-mortem. To see two people who, four years ago, had no idea that they could have their love go 'up and up' forever and ever, make a big fat step in that direction is positively mind-blowing. To know these people, the sacrifices they have made to get here, and the passion they have for this truth they have learned is a strength to me.

With the two sealings I have been to in the last couple weeks (the name-dropping sealer at Lauren's and the flighty sealer with Napa), I have been reminded of how important it is that we pay attention to the covenants we make. At baptism, we promise to obey God, He promises to be with us. As we increase in understanding of that most basic exchange of promises, we are ready to promise more. He is, in turn, ready and willing to give us more, give us everything if we're ready for it. The stakes are higher, the blessings more powerful. It is ultimately up to us how much heavenly goodness we want God to pour into our lives by how fully we choose to live up to our end of the bargain. A huge theme I heard in last week's conference was the importance of agency and that we choose our way to God's presence.

I'm so grateful for the opportunity to see Napa and Dipu make themselves available to all the best that heaven has to offer by stepping into God's temple and stepping up to His offer of all the blessings they could ever want. Now, I need to step back up as high as I can and choose to be one step closer to where I want to be.

Lazy Saturday

2010-10-09T14:50:00.000-07:00

Saturday afternoon. It's the first day in weeks that I've had a sizable chunk of nowhere to be downtime. Plan was to get my life in order. Seize the day for all its bill-paying, errand-running potential and do some serious damage to my to do list. Instead, it's after 3 pm and I'm back in my bed, still in my nightgown, telling myself that I can't go shower until I go run and that I certainly can't go run just yet because it's raining outside. I slept in late but justified it by my recent jet set schedule and that I was up late dancing up a storm on the new (beta new) Kinect game Dance Central (nothing like this controller-free dance off to wear me out and make me feel great about my [lack of] coordination). The internet was down when I first woke up and by the time I had fixed it, I somehow made it through a Hallmark original movie, the latest episode of Grey's and several months worth of posts from this blog I Facebook post stumbled on- totally bizarre and so funny I was crying laughing, alone in my apartment, glad my roommate is gone for the weekend so I don't have to explain myself for the pathetic state I'm in at the moment. I did unpack from Utah Round Two (post on that once I get my act together), put away some laundry and managed at least a late breakfast.

oookkkaaaayyyy, rain won't stop me, it's time to get moving.....

Semiahmoo

2010-10-04T23:39:00.000-07:00

The website invites you: Do the moo! Right now (and in the elevators) they are also inviting all to a Halloween Bash with a David Bowie tribute band. I'm thinking, David Bowie is weird enough on his own, he doesn't need a tribute band hamming it up on Halloween. All the same, I'm considering attending. Really, the Semiahmoo Resort is a lot classier than that. Plush couches, expensive oyster bar, and a happy Kami, strutting around in kitten heels and a silky brown pencil skirt. Talk about a power combo.

Semiahmoo is located on a little spit juuuust south of Canada. So just south, in fact, that I'm pretty sure a Major League pitcher could throw a ball and knock out one of the mounties patrolling the Peach Arch border crossing. In this map, A is Semiahmoo. B is Canada.

Close.

You can also see in the map that the spit upon which sits Semiahmoo resort is about the width of a road. And some rocky, better-than-California-golden-sand, Washington coast. This photo [link] barely captures the surprisingly glassy water against the faded background of mountains. I wasn't here at sunset, but rather the sky and water were that matching silvery white that people outside the Pacific Northwest don't really seem to get. Add in crisp fall air and you've got the reasons why this is my new favorite place.
I was here today at a conference for work. Attendees were mostly men, anxious to get the speaker's over with and the golf game started. I made some great headway on some work projects. And found the site for my future destination wedding/family reunion/weekend getaway. Why go to Canada, when you can do the moo?

You you you Utah

2010-09-28T21:02:00.000-07:00

God bless Southwest Airlines and their free flight change policy. I rescheduled my original flight to the Rocky Mountains three times before settling on last weekend. Thursday night to Tuesday morning would surely be enough time to enjoy wedding festivities and the company of everyone else I love in Utah, right? Wrong.

I forget sometimes that I lived in Utah for some 6 odd years and that most of my friends from my time there are still there. The trip was much more of a whirlwind than I anticipated, so I'm summarizing here, mostly using my online banking as a reference.

**Dinner at the delicious Terra Mia with the always beautiful Katie (four cheese pizza and bruschetta were amazing and worth it, even with the stomach warfare they started). I'm lucky to have friends like Katie who I've known since forever and have such a history with. Someone who I can just pick up and be best friends no matter how long it has been since we have really talked last.

**Grey's Anatomy season premiere. Der is out of control. Mer is out of control. Christina should NOT marry Owen. Everyone is acting crazy but the dreamy therapist. Bring on Season 6!

**Many silly sleepovers with Brooke. Only one personal meltdown. I miss sharing a room with her for her bestie handling of both.

**I spent 30 minutes on campus. I'm proud of my BYU Alumni license plate frame, though I'm yet to fix it to my actual car but not so sure about the impulse Y Christmas ornament. I've been slowly accumulating Christmas ornament souvenirs from my trouncing around and thought this might be a good addition. I just wish it weren't so... blue.

**A whole day with Christie! Excessive boy talk. Laughing with her hilarious husband. Lemonade and a stroll down Provo Center street with her blonde and growing babies. And she made me a dress! From scratch! Made up the pattern and everything and I look like a total babe in it! I am constantly amazed at this woman's skiiillls as a wife, mother, homemaker and friend. When I grow up, I want to be just like Christie.

**Lauren's high-so wedding dinner at the Grand America. She's so lovely. Sadly, besides the friend of the groom who I may or may not have hooked up with a year or so ago, I didn't know a soul. The two married guys I sat between were friendly enough. I totally could have found my soul mate at the after party though! Sitting in the lounge, waiting for my ride because I'm a carless vagabond, in a dress made 4 hours earlier from DI sheets the lounge waitress came by to tell me that a stranger offered to buy me a drink. I declined, awkward and flustered, not knowing the proper etiquette in such a situation but soon regretted it. I was thirsty and could have used a free Shirley Temple from one of the 4 creeper males wandering around the lounge.

**I was saved by Melissa, who not only let me borrow her car for the deathly early sealing the next morning but let me sleep over and keep her up late with my tirades in her perfectly decorated room. I have the fondest memories of mission life with this girl. There is no one as thoughtful as her on earth.

**After Lauren's sealing (more on this later), I stalked down Sister Ang, my Cambodian companion's little sister who is serving on temple square. She is an almost twin with her sister (who I LOVE!) and her English is so good! Apparently, they recently changed sister missionary clothing rules- dark, mid-length skirts and collared shirts no longer required! Not that these rules affected my mission much, but I think the church is taking a step in the right direction. Next step: tank top G's!

**Raelle met me at temple square. We left for literally the best Khaw Phad (Thai fried rice) I have ever had (including in Thailand!) at Mai Thai on 300 W 1500 S in Salt Lake. The ginger dish was just okay. Raelle's baby is cute enough to be a Gerber baby and she's a cute little mom herself. We were going to head to the Relief Society broadcast after bopping around Gateway, but realized we left the tickets behind (oops!) so we hung out with Melanie instead. I walked out with some of her somehow stylish grandma clothes.

**Lauren's reception. Lovely. High strung lights, BBQ, live (perfect) music. The cake was not my favorite. But the peanut-butter balls were perfect. And the sparkler and lit lantern send-off was worth the wait.

**I pretty much made Jodi and Tyler make me waffles. They are so cute. Jodi was such a great roommate. The only one I ever had with my same shoe size.

**Sacrament meeting in a Belmont ward. People shouldn't knock these wards so much. It was a really good testimony meeting.

**I was going to try to escape home for a nap after sacrament meeting (sooooo tiiiirreeeed) but on my way out, ran into literally all of my favorite people from my last ward in Provo. People I had for the most part entirely forgotten about. Kristin who I blogstalk; Heather who I have no way to contact but love seeing; Dave who is just the best, my old home teacher just got engaged; the old EQP announced he's still not married (I haven't been gone that long); the old Exec. Secretary who I forgot I totally had a crush on; the guy who I would never date but has the most charming smile; people who I am not even Facebook friends with, but love! I ended up staying for more church. It was just what I needed.

**Stopped by the old house. No electricity or water but still felt like home. I loved that house.

**Drive up the canyon with Lisa on Monday. Utah is so beautiful this time of year. We took the lift up at Sundance (breathtaking, see photo above) and I made her take my to the Dodge's house. They were home (amazing luck) and we got to rehash our trip. That trip was so fun. I couldn't have picked a better travel partner. And my mission president and his wife are seriously such high quality people.

**Dinner with Lisa, Andy, Rachel and friends. Rach is just the best. If I were a guy, I would want to marry her. She and Krista even took me to the airport early early Tuesday morning.

**I caught the Link light rail from the airport straight to work. I will do this again. It's so easy.

Phew. This turned out way longer than I anticipated. Sadly, no pictures even to spice it up. It really was such a fabulous weekend.
Still, it's great to be home :)

Accidental Find

2010-09-20T22:02:00.000-07:00

I went into TJ Maxx looking for gray boots (out), tried on 6 sweater dresses (none fit just right) and ended up seeing this jacket and trying it on en route to the cashier. Sometimes, you just know in an instant what will be your favorite pieces of clothing all winter. Warm and comfy, accessible pockets, double-breasted buttons from chin to (butt) cheeks, long enough arms, detachable hood, easy to match, easy to wash, easy to love!

The cashier asked me if I found what I was looking for. I told him no, but I'm much happier with my accidental find. Ready for winter!

New home

2010-09-16T21:15:00.001-07:00

I know everyone thinks it's pretty cool to be 25 and living with your parents. Okay, that statement might be up for debate (though if you know my parents, it really isn't. My parents are cooler than I am), but apparently over half of 2010 grads (not that I am one of those yet) are living at home these days, thinking it's pretty cool. What is there to not love about little to no expenses and free nostalgia every day of the week? When I first got home, it was a serious party. With 10 of us crammed into literally every nook and cranny of the Knudson homestead, we were all wondering whatever happened to predictability and wishing we had Dave Coulier in the basement. I have had a thrill of a summer living at the base of Demery Hill in the room where I learned to read and not wet the bed but the time has come to reenter the world of paying for utilities and shopping for my own groceries.

I haven't been fo' real grocery shopping for something like 9 months now, what with the living at home, wandering around Asia and using up the last of my goods I have been doing since last November. I realized tonight that I'm not very good at it. A reminder for next time: Don't go on an empty stomach. If you're not sure if you are full enough for a grocery run, check your cart. If the to-buy items include Eggo's, Taquitos, or any kind of frozen burritos, go eat something and come back later. No, Kami, a donut from the bakery does not count, even if it has sprinkles. You always forget to pay for it at the register anyway. I swear it will be 15 empty stomach grocery-run sprinkled donuts that I accidentally stole that will keep me out of heaven.

After a good six laps around the Safeway with I'm sure the very worst selection of everything but butter, I finally made it out with a cart full of what I think will be useful food items. Lemon Zest Luna bars are disgusting, I have already learned. Hopefully how gross they are will not be indicative of the rest of my food choices.

I'm sure I'll miss morning crosswords with my dad and late night chats with my mom, and the occasional run-in I had with everyone else who lives at the house. But I'm sorry family, I got to work in 18 minutes this morning (during rush hour!) and there's no way you will ever compete with that. See you for Sunday dinner.... maybe.

At any time an invitation I can't decline

2010-09-12T18:16:00.000-07:00

In the last month or so I have been feasting on the glories of Seattle summertime. Pictured here: My first NFL experience at a Seahawks pre-season game (I think I could really get into the whole live football thing); Pacific Science Center for Bite of Seattle, IMAX, and a Queen Laser Show (Yum, whoa, and ROCK ON!, respectively); Stanley Jordan Trio, an UNBELIEVABLY TALENTED touch-tap guitar player (it must be painful to have that much soul) at the oh so cool Dimitriou's Jazz Alley (I'm now on their email list); and a day flight and fresh seafood to Friday Harbor in a Cessna (seriously, what a dream. Seriously. A dream.).

Good food, good company, and in all these cases specifically, good weather! I can't be mad now that the gray skies are starting to settle. Perhaps gloomier days will persuade me to settle down a bit. I've got a lot to do!

Music videos that make me smile

2010-08-18T20:36:00.000-07:00

I'm a sucker for a story. There are songs I didn't originally know/like but the music videos sold me and now I'm hooked!

I was the nerdy girl, I still sing and dance in my bedroom, and I like to think that the nice best friend neighbor wins sometimes. He was holding his I LOVE YOU sign the whole time!

Laughing talking on a park bench, hey isn't this easy. Whatcha doin with a girl like that? Why can't you see, you belong with meeeee

I talk myself out of everyone and love the idea of rushing back into giving it a try because who knows, maybe this time will be the exception. Loving Paramore's funky updo/jacket look.

Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream! You are the only exception

This song+video makes me cry.

I was counting on forever, now I'll never know. Everybody's saying he's not coming home now. This can't be happening to me. This is just a dream

Uncle Rob

2010-08-18T19:22:00.000-07:00

It doesn't get much better than my Uncle Rob. He's handsome, charming, thoughtful, and a total hoot to be with. I grew up with Rob living at my house just a room or two over. I'll admit there were times in my teenage years when my handicapped uncle wasn't my favorite person. His seizure's scared me to bits and his nicknames drove me crazy. But as I have grown, it becomes more and more clear that people like Rob are what make this world beautiful. And really, Strawberry Jam Cakes is a great nickname. Rob's been living at my aunt's house down in NV for the last couple years so I don't see him much, but he's up this week for a visit. His birthday was a couple weeks ago so my family, as always, had an unspoken competition for who could get the best reaction out of Rob for birthday presents. I lose every year. Brent wins every year, this year with a Value Village big stuffed dog and Hawaiian shirt. Scottie's pop can to bottle converter was a close second. And my mom's bowling clock. I think I won once when I was in high school- a sweet lite-brite style desk lamp. The last birthday party we had for Rob was a Mexican Pirate Luau. Pretty tough to beat. But this week has been great. Today Rob and I had a date to the Sammamish Farmer's Market. Pulled pork sandwiches, toasted coconut ice cream and a walk through a lovely park in perfect weather, all with my favorite guy. He hates taking pictures; avoids them at all cost, but I got him to pose at least for a profile. How can you not love him!

Cheat List

2010-08-09T19:33:00.000-07:00

The other day some friends were telling me about a website they created (nerd alert?), something along the lines of Marry, Kiss, Push off a cliff. I always played the game Date, Marry, One Night Stand. My version has its moral downsides, but it narrows things down quite a bit more. There are a lot of celebrities I'd happily push off a cliff, but very few I'd like to keep from on the cliff long enough to date, marry, or have a one night stand with. Without further ado, my list (subject to change)...

Date: Michael Vartan
While this looker seems to lack enough personality to keep around long term, he seems like the kind of guy who would pull out all the stops in the grand gesture, sweep you off your feet kind of way. I've got a thing for undercover agents. And apparently quasi-inappropriate teachers. And he speaks French!

Marry: Jesse Williams

I've only seen him in Grey's Anatomy and Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants II, but what else do you need? Piercing eyes, hot bod, and what seems like a sense of humor. Yes please!

His face is shiny in literally every picture I can find of him online. I am willing to look past these minor imperfections to see him for what he truly is, a nude model/doctor who loves me.

Our children would be beyond beautiful. Plus, he used to be a teacher!

One Night Stand: Lenny Kravitz
Mmm hmmm
(And I Love this song)

Things I've learned from Carl and Ellie

2010-08-07T23:15:00.000-07:00

0:07 Don't be afraid to kiss your man when you want to
0:18 Any girl can use tools, even in a dress
0:22 Cuffed jeans look great with flats, even if you're short
0:32 Life is better in color
0:37 I really do hate running up hill
0:39, 1:02, 3:54 Holding hands is great
1:02 I need to find me a good book, and maybe someone to talk about it with
1:16 Babies!
1:31 I hope I am fertile
1:37 Sometimes you just need to sit and feel the wind
1:56 A full life takes goals, and some of those goals should include adventure
2:08, 2:13, 2:17 Life happens.
2:26 I should learn how to tie a tie backwards, it can't be to hard
2:28 Gray hair is cute!
2:45 Oh, dancing by candlelight. If you want to do it when you're old, you should be doing it all along
3:10 There's not much worse than the realization of wasted time or a lost dream
3:24 Now I Really dislike hills
A life full of love is a life well-lived.

On the road again

2010-08-01T21:20:00.000-07:00

As if the NW tour was not enough, a little party of 16 road tripped down to Seaside, OR this weekend to a quaint beach house. Bonfire, beach walking, hitting golf balls into the ocean, flying kites (my first time ever!), greasy food and fun.

You can tell I'm all sorts of excited about it

Olympic Peninsula (Days 3-5)

2010-07-28T00:21:00.000-07:00

tAs three young, beautiful (weakling) ladies, we tried to take some basic precautions to keep safe and avoid creepers, psychos, and bears. Both Orcas Island and Deception Pass felt pretty safe and tame, but entering the Sol Duc Campground in the Olympic National Forest, we knew we had to be on guard. This was a Monday now, meaning the average (normal) weekend family campers were back home, leaving the true blue (read: a little odd) outdoorsmen in the wilderness. It didn't help that Sol Duc is the kind of forest where there is more moss on the trees than bark and the sky is anything but visible.

We ultimately nabbed a spot between families, not too far from the bathrooms but far enough from wilderness that bear threat was low to nothing. Just to be safe, though, we secured the cooler and any traces of crumbs in the back seat with the door locked. It was just after dark that this sweet beast of a van literally barreled down the lane and across the way from us. It doesn't get much more molester van than no windows, chipped edges and a 55 gallon water barrel bungee strapped to the roof.

It was only just before we turned in for the night that the horror realization came that the car keys were sitting inside the cooler lid. Locked. The marshmallow pokers were working great when we were disrupted by a chuckle coming in from the darkness. Mr. Creeper van himself, up close not so creepy (except for the chuckle and looming out of darkness). He was a poster boy for REI in a ginormous Patagonia puff coat (the puffiest), straight jaw, chin length hair under a beanie and those glasses that are really goggles, but you know, are glasses. He apologized for laughing and assured us that the ranger could help us out in the morning. Then off to the darkness. Really, a very nice guy. But I did still wake up in the middle of the night sure he was unzipping our tent to come murder us.

Come morning, we used our new friend's cracked-screen pay as you go Walmart cell phone to phone into the Ranger station for a Slim Jim. A good while later came this hunk, Ranger S. Bagocious to save the day. A quick Slim Jim later and we were in, but had to prove to the local authority that we weren't trying to steal the piece of crap car from the middle of the forest.

The officer first chided me for locking the keys in the car with no sympathy for our smart bear attack prevention. Then it came out that the registration is still in my dad's name. Does he even know you have this car? Uh, yes... I'm about to buy it and change the registration. Then, the dates came out and we realized that my tabs expired... 7 months ago (yes, we. I just noticed as well). And then that I didn't have my license (I lost it last week, I promise!). BUT I did have my passport!! (We were maybe going to jump up to Canada at some point)

Don't worry that Mr. Bag went through it page by page and asked me for details about the stamps in it. He made it to Laos once too, you know, and I think it's for that that he gave us the warning that policemen in the area would eat me alive if they found me, which they very well might because the locked car report went out over the radio. Lovely!

All the while, our friendly creepster neighbor sat squatting by his fire pit down the way watching the action. Every time the ranger went back to his oversize Suburban for paperwork he would amble over and mock us, usually postulating that women are biologically predisposed to lock keys in the car to attract strapping, young rangers. Men just aren't wired that way. He would wander away just as Ranger Bag returned for more (overly flirtatious at this point) chiding.

And finally we were on the road again! A long shower at the nearby Sol Duc hot springs gave us a new lease on life and we were on the road again.

Forks was totally creepy and 100% overrated (they have had a 600% increase in tourism due to Twilight. Crazy!)
but La Push was quite pretty.
Cape Flattery is the northwest corner of America and the ocean white with foam got me singing God Bless America all over again.
Then back to Sequim for a killer sunrise over the Dungeness spit and an idyllic day of picking lavender and berries. And lots of Indian sites!
We hit Poulsbo, a little Norwegian town, (where we saw an old man barely hit in a crosswalk and the entire police force show up to deal with the screaming wife and poor 16-year-old who just didn't look hard enough) and Bainbridge Island (where I unsuccessfully tried to do a drive-by of an old boyfriend's house) and finally Russ' house for a sunset over the East side before collapsing back at home.

I love my home!

Pacific Islanders (Days 1-2)

2010-07-26T13:03:00.000-07:00

Brooke and Mary decided to come to Seattle, I don't remember why. Probably because I've realized that I'm going to be here for a while with no big hoopla traveling plans and that I've got to keep the spirit alive while I'm working on that whole career and responsibility thing, so I've been recruiting. Brooke owes me a visit from 7 years of friendship and Mary flies for free. Boom. We've got a party.

The party begins on Orcas Island. Well, really the party began in the Anacortes ferry line, which lasted at good 4 hours longer than promised and allowed for a rush tour of the 3 street city's finest antique shops, dingy diners and ocean-themed street decor. Then, the hour and half long ferry through the glorious San Juan Islands. Is it just me or are Friday evening ferry's always full of gruffly handsome island-mountain men? Well worth the $40 price tag for car and passenger if only for the scenery.

Last time I was on Orcas was 6th grade outdoor ed camp. 150+ pre-teens in a week of October rain is a good recipe for flushed cheeks and lungs full of fresh air adventure. This time there are 7 of us onboard and the sun is shining, and I expect nothing less.

Friday night we defied all laws of camping and satisfied my month-long craving of real deal beer battered fish and chips; salty and perfect, right from the ocean. In the morning we hiked up to the big viewpoint with a clear 360° of the San Juan Islands and Victoria, Canada over yonder. Seriously, what kind of world is this where there are people who have to stare at deserts or buildings for their whole lives. Pure deprivation.

And then we got on a little yacht and rode around the islands.

Totally normal. An awesome girl in my ward just happened to be at sea with her dad so we loaded up and cruised through the surprisingly chilly air, unsuccessfully whale-watching, but loving every minute. I had spent the morning talking up the beauty to two Arizonans who believed that AZ's natural beauty could hold a candle to this. SERVED!

The rest of the evening was spent just us three girls at Deception Pass. How this gem has been unknown to me my whole NW life is a mystery to me. The bridge at sunset is a kind of green-gold that merited our three simultaneous gasps of surprise from my little Escort as we wheeled around the corner. We weren't the only ones impressed, dreamer yogi (right) loved it too!

Sunday on Whidbey Island day meant one mission: Find the town where Practical Magic was filmed. Apparently, they painted Coupeville's whole "downtown" in different shades of white to give it that idyllic, small-town feel. The colors are back to normal now, but it's still got some pretty quaint magic going on. Plus, the young Dimitri from the Knead and Feed who made my day with Strawberry Rhubarb pie and stealing my heart. If only the floppy haircut and bumbling sweetness only an innocent 17-year-old can genuinely smile could find its way into my ward, perhaps a decade older.

Another ferry at Keystone (almost didn't make it on/off this one at least 3 times) and voila! We're on the Peninsula!!

To be continued...

Pacific NW

2010-07-24T23:11:00.000-07:00

I've been on a journey. It's a little hard to find the energy to whittle it down to a concise and enjoyably readable blog post, but I'm working on it. A teaser for you: our route

And some pics. More photos, stories and clever commentary to come.

aargh, I hate html

Fourth of July Festivities

2010-07-06T21:09:00.000-07:00

I have to get this announcement off my chest. It has been plaguing me for weeks.

I RAN A 5K!!!

If you know me, you know that I hate running. With everything in me. But sometimes, a girl's got to do things she hates for the simple fact that it should be done. I promised myself I'd run at least one this summer and even though my jogging routine has all but gone out the window, I signed up for the Firecracker 5000, Midnight 5K. I might be a masochist for agreeing to almost all up-hill (how is that even possible) route around Seattle's most beloved landmark, the Space Needle, especially with my wimpy, toddler lung capacity and Heavyweights-like endurance, but I did it! At midnight! With a USA theme! And I didn't die! (The !!!s must come from that runner's high I've heard so much about)
I was going to do it alone, no lie, until I found out that some girls I know (runners themselves, the kind that run on purpose, fast) were signed up as well so we made a caravan of it. And by caravan I mean that we started at the time and I took twice their time to get back to the finish line. Great motivation to keep at it and get better!

I'm not sure what's going on with my body here, but I am excited it's over!

The celebration continued on the night of the fourth, this time with I think everyone from Seattle congregating at Gasworks Park. They played God Bless America during one of the fireworks sequences, which I'm thrilled about, considering the masses of atheists in attendance. Monica commented on my perma-smile throughout the show. I really do love fireworks. Twice a year is just not frequent enough to enjoy them.

Troy, on my right, I went out on a blind date with over 6 years ago. Oh what a world of run-ins!

The lovely Carrie and Catherine

Tangibly American

2010-07-05T13:03:00.000-07:00

A mission companion once said to me of her travels, "living abroad makes one realize that there is something within that is tangibly American." I could not agree more. While the national anthem and patriotic movies do encourage a certain love of country, leaving the perimeters of this freedom, opportunity and God-given rights to which we pledge allegiance from the day we enter Kindergarten provides us with new eyes and a fresh understanding of just how lucky we are to call this country home.

Poverty, corruption and class separation surely make their mark within our borders, as well as abroad. There is something deeper, though, that I can't seem to articulate, something that rises to the surface upon exiting the country. I keep typing and deleting, trying to pin down what exactly that I mean, but I can't seem to get it right without sounding pompous and US-centric.

God created men to be free and America is a testament to the fact that it is possible. I have rights by breathing that I didn't have to fight for, that citizens of other countries don't even know are options.

Sure, my country has done ugly, nasty things in the history of the world; stealing, lying, oppressing for the sake of self. I love the quote by David Sedaris,

"Every day we're told that we live in the greatest country on earth. And it's always stated as an undeniable fact: Leos were born between July 23 and August 22, fitted queen-size sheets measure sixty by eighty inches, and America is the greatest country on earth. Having grown up with this in our ears, it's startling to realize that other countries have nationalistic slogans of their own, none of which are "We're number two!""

It's not a sense of superiority I feel, nor disdain for countries who don't mirror the understanding, but my country stands up and agrees with God that men should be free, and that is about the most blessed fact on my birth certificate.

I'm going to have to work on putting this into words that make a little more sense. But for now, I'm feeling proud to be an American, and extra grateful for the individuals I know and don't who have given themselves so that I could be.

And for muppets.

Complaints.

2010-07-03T12:41:00.000-07:00

*I wrote this a week or two ago and forgot to publish it. I'm feeling a whole lot better now (easy to improve from this kind of state) and will be posting the proof of it shortly!

I'm cranky. And cold. Because my room has this weird stink right now so the window is open and even though it's July 3, it's only 50 degrees outside and I bet it rains again tomorrow. I'm annoyed that the only place where it's any kind of quiet is in my car and I can't be in there with the windows closed because it still reeks of gasoline from a tiny spill three weeks ago and the vanilla tree hanging from the mirror doesn't work for crap. My house is a disaster. The kitchen sink is clogged and it looks like diarrhea is coming up the pipe whenever I try to do anything to remedy the situation. I'm thinking of torching the whole house and starting from scratch. I'm sick of breaking out, breaking up and breaking earrings, which somehow never ceases to surprise me how often all three of these storm through. I can't believe my dryer takes 2 hours for a full dry with no mildew smell or that girls who I think of as 7th graders are married now with babies, which means they are having sex and I don't get to. I can't ever decide what to eat and that is not getting easier. I miss Thailand. A lot. Weather, food, people I love and the weird sense of humor I get when I speak Thai. I have angry feelings towards some people who are driving me crazy. It's rare that I hold a grudge for more than 5 minutes and I don't know how people do it for longer than that because it is exhausting! I'm praying for a get-over-it heart, a little humility, and a lot of patience. And a better mood.

Happy Solstice

2010-06-19T18:13:00.000-07:00

Happy Summer Solstice! In Seattle, the longest day of the year means daylight for as long as you could want it, with twilight peeking in the late four o'clock hour, kicking into bright white by 5am, and fading into dusk approaching ten at night. It also signals a far scarier phenomenon slash freak show: The Seattle Solstice Parade!

The fun begins with a dream come true (or nightmare, if you're me) parade of Fremont locals on bicycles, totally naked. Naked. They're mostly painted head to toe with body paint, some with a costumey effect that looks like complete outfits, some with pathetic swirls and smears only pretending to cover their most delicate parts. While the shock of it all was fun AND exciting, this section of the excitement was longer than it needed to be, the hundreds of bicyclists making unnecessary laps along the parade route, bouncing and jiggling with every turn and shout.
The remainder of the parade is a caravan of Fremont crazies in their most homemade and celebratory costumes, dancing and cheering. There was no rhyme or reason to the 'floats' on display- most memorable to me were several sets of belly dancers, a group in red handing out free hugs and love and one group manning a paper mache volcano on wheels that periodically erupted a litter of stuffed kittens. (Pics at your own risk)
I'm traumatized. And so glad I'm female. But how fun!

Gainfully Employed

2010-06-18T17:59:00.000-07:00

I have a job now! A great one in fact (don't be jealous). You can even email me at my dot o-r-g company email address. Please don't though, I have a lot of very important correspondence to deal with, or at least will once I go from the slow chug of training to actually being functional in my job responsibilities. Plus, I have this irrational fear that the IT department (guy) is somehow tracking all the times I (never) get off task. It's a paranoia surely left over from some necessarily strict computer lab rules in High School, but all for the best, I suppose, as I've got my to-do list for the evening, and snippets of this very blog scribbled on neon green post-its for a post-work update.

Rewind!

I dragged (drug?) my feet through the whole job search thing for a good month or more after I got back. I've got plenty to keep my busy even while unemployed around this (disaster of a) house. Ultimately, I finished phase one of garage clean-out (one garage sale and about twelve trips to Goodwill) and my Craigslist return from furniture and knick knack sales was dwindling so the hunt was on.

Round one of applications (minus the Gates Foundation, World Vision and Unitus who are unfortunately smart for not hiring me) yielded two interviews and basically two job offers, one where I'd get down and dirty in the business world, the other in nonprofit. If you know me and my philosophies on development, you know that both are pretty appealing. In the end, a higher salary and shorter commute lost out to my current title: Food Resource Developer.

Basically, I get food manufacturers (you know, farmers, fishermen, factories and the like) to donate their food products directly to us, and we distribute them out to 17 counties. Who knew such a job existed. Making sure the hungry people in the 300+ Food Banks in Western Washington don't have to live on just peanut butter and Ramen noodles. Produce, meat and pretty high quality stuff... most of the time at least.

More later on the work I'm doing but here, I'm sure the first of many stabs at helping people be aware of what hunger in America looks like today:
(cheesy elevator music and a bit boring in the middle, but good fast facts and a powerful message)

Knudson dynasty

2010-06-13T09:59:00.000-07:00

It's official, the Knudson dynasty is ready to rule.

Exactly one year ago, the only Knudson family member living in the state of Washington was my oldest brother Brent. My parents were in Utah for the summer and the rest of us were out and about, living some version of our own lives. Since then, Brent got married and brought Mia into the fold, my parents are back in the house, Jake started a business up here so he and Kelsie and their munchkins are here, I graduated and moved back after traveling, Scott high-tailed it out of Florida after finishing his mission and finally, as of about a week ago, the set is complete. Brian and Heather, holed up in Princeton, NJ with their little ones and threatening to stay there forever, finally gave in and moved back west.

Yesterday was moving day for the Kwnudsons to their newhouse in Lynnwood/Mukilteo/Everett border area -an adorable house with almost the exact same layout as my childhood best friend's house. I didn't realize until yesterday how good I am at helping people move. It's so much easier when it isn't your own stuff. I've got the hangnails from all the carboard boxes to prove it!

I'm excited for these siblings to be here because Brian, of anyone in the family, thinks most like I do. The last time we were really in the same place was my Freshman year at BYU when I would treat him to weekly Dining Plus meals and he'd treat me in return by winning at our usually weekly tennis games. And, even though Heather has been in the family since I was in high school, I don't know her as well as I'd like. Plus, their kids are stinkin' cute.

After all the dirty work was done

Good day

2010-06-08T20:46:00.000-07:00

I had the best day. Three potential job interviews, each of which with pretty different qualifications and responsibilities, all of which I kicked serious butt. I'm a pretty together lady, if you didn't know. I interview like a rockstar. Two pretty sure job offers, one for sure volunteer thing with a great organization I can learn a lot from. The wrapping up of some other personal junk- the kind that puts a smile on your face and the anthem 'I'm free' on my lips. Afternoon golf with my dad, and by that I mean driving the cart around most of the front nine, hitting about 5 good hits with a 7 iron and sucking it up with anything close to pitching or putting, but my dad is so cute! An evening walk and a little giggle time with the nieces. A killer set by New Directions on the season finale of Glee. A blue sky day with a rainy, breezy night. Couldn't ask for more!

John Mayer is a slimeball, but he really does get what it feels like

2010-06-03T10:54:00.000-07:00

From this:

"half of my heart's got a right mind to tell you that half of my heart won't do" "made a plan stay the man who can only love himself"

To this:

"don't say a word, just come over and lie here with me..." "love is really nothing but a dream that keeps waking me" "silently screaming, I have to have you now"

And finally:

"nothing to do, nowhere to be, a simple little kind of free" "and this is not to say there never comes a day i'll take my chances and start again"

Or maybe all three at once, depending on the day!

New Look

2010-05-28T14:11:00.000-07:00

Before:

For the month I've been home, I've been living in the guest room. Sure, it's the room I grew up in with the same totally sweet princess bed frame I've had since about the 4th grade, but with gray walls and Dutch china decor, it has not been my room. It looks like I'll be here a while (this party's just getting started!), and I'm always looking for new projects to keep me busy and learning new house renovation skills (they're important?) so out with the gray, in with the new.

During: First off was spray retexturing and painting the ceiling. I wasn't too happy with the first round finished product, mostly because it looks like a herd of birds shat all the freak over my walls (and face), but after an extra coat of ACE Hardware's nicest looking paint from the Oops bin (I've named it Blush beige, my dad called it Desert Storm) and new baseboards, it looks lovely. I'm achy in all sorts of weird places now and still working on decorating, but what a difference a little color makes!

After:

LOST!

2010-05-25T09:58:00.000-07:00

It's been a fun ride.

Home of the aroma

2010-05-12T16:53:00.000-07:00

The Greater Seattle Metropolitan Area is often divided into parts: The city, the east side, the north end and the sorth end (clever, right?). West of Seattle is, of course, the Puget Sound and the Islands (Bainbridge, Whidbey, Vashon and more), a sort of pleasant yonder in my book, well worth the trek out and over the water.

Seattle proper, the champion of them all (rightly so) is surrounded on three sides by satellite cities. I come from the East Side, centered around the thriving Bellevue. My side of Seattle is sometimes known as the snotty side. Microsoftees, dot-commers and other random millionaires (not in my neighborhood, but around) may justify the reputation. Regardless, though many would deny it, there's an unspoken air of self-importance from the East Siders in regards to the other regions of Seattle. The North End has its hub in Everett, though I will admit that I often forget that anything is up there. In my head it goes Downtown-Northgate-Wilderness-Canadian Border. My brothers' new company is starting in Lake Stevens, though, so the area is officially on the radar.

I know plenty of cities in the The South End, and don't think poorly of them, but somehow their value is clouded by the perceived Tacoma Aroma- a distinct smell wafting from Tacoma's manufacturing district. Apparently the sulfur/arsenic pollution was cleaned by the time I hit high school, but the damage was done and the reputation remains.

Well, I am here to say that I am an East Side Snob no longer (I never really was, I promise!). I spent some time down south last week and while Fife is yet to impress me (any city with a 'Diabetes Shoppe' makes me a little nervous), Tacoma has won my respect.

The city doesn't smell (apparently unless the wind blows from the east), and while the manufacturing plants aren't so beautiful, the historic downtown is just perfect. Red brick buildings, my favorite kind of suspension bridge and tons of GLASS.

The Chihuly Glass Museum is right on the marina, named for the oh so famous Tacoma native, Dale Chihuly. Chihuly's known for his Wonka-style glass works - I've seen them displayed in the Salt Lake's Abravanel Hall and floating in a pond in a Chicago greenhouse. Glassworks are all over Tacoma (I took pictures of the way more welcoming than my town's City Hall, Flickr has much better shots than mine). Tacoma has officially won me over.

Elder Knudson no more

2010-05-05T13:36:00.000-07:00

He's home! Former Elder Knudson and current partner in crime. We were that annoying family at the airport.
Here comes the son!One week later, he's back to normal, i.e. being weird. Here's a video he and his buddies made.

LIVE in a living room

2010-04-25T22:45:00.000-07:00

I went to a concert this weekend, live... in someone's living room. A last minute invite to break the Sabbath couldn't be wasted on too many people. A random Seattle hipster (the kind that keeps up on living room shows of obscure artists, see photo to see for yourself) invited a friend from the East side who invited me. The show was in an old Wallingford house (think old Provo houses with better stewards than 50 years of dirty student tenants). The homeowner was barefoot, of course, sporting a fedora and manpris. Wine and pepper popcorn were offered to all 40-50 guests (even latecomers who had to sit on the stairs). This is the kind of event where I'm glad I accidentally wore boots and chunky belt so I feel like I can roll with indie, hipster, urban cool scene I barely fit in with. My family apparently thinks I'm all about the hippie counter-culture, btw, and I'm still trying to figure out how right they are.

Anyway, I first heard the lady of the night, Rosie Thomas, crooning from my laptop speakers, recommended by Pandora on my A Fine Frenzy radio station. The song, Guess It May, talked about stumbling through a relationship and struck a chord with me at a time when I felt like I was doing just that. I've heard a few Rosie songs since then, mostly in passing, and have appreciated the balance she strikes between a full voice full of emotion and an innocent sweetness of someone still figuring out those same emotions. Her seafoam green cardigan and self-proclaimed Rod Stewart haircut should have tipped me off to her real self the second she walked into the house.

I'll tell you what, Rosie Thomas sounds like she is twelve years old. Quite the opposite of a powerhouse opera singer who orders coffee in full baritone, Rosie cheeped her song intros and hilarious commentary about her life in a baby voice that seemed almost cartoonish. With the strum of her sweet husband's guitar, she aged immediately into the record-quality voice I heard on Pandora. Very strange, very fun, very Seattle.

Home is where the cheesy smile is

2010-04-23T00:10:00.000-07:00

Twenty years ago. Really, how cute are we.

In transit

2010-04-16T18:03:00.000-07:00

Soundtrack: Some Thai party music then The Weary Kind by Jeff Bridges (really!)

I stayed just long enough for Thai New Year- A Holi (with water instead of colors) style bonanza with some religious/cultural base and a lot of chaos in dealing with the oppressive heat. Basically, it's like the whole country is celebrating my birthday by staging a never-ending water fight. I was dry for about 15 seconds before getting water shot in the back (back stabbers) and soon after gang splashed and attacked to bits by New Year's menthol goo all over my face.
This old man is posing ---------This kid is not

Party in a Tuk Tuk ------------And recovering

With Nary at Oh's house. Two of my favorite people on my last day
Lowdown on the trip home (because it matters)

Highlights:

C razy Heart as an in-flight movie. Jeff Bridges and Collin Farrell do country, Maggie Gyllenhall does endearing. I'd recommend it, esp. if you've got a little country in you
Chaise lounge at the Seoul airport, figuring out all my new technology toys
Determined to prevent/overcome/fight jet lag with all my might
6 hours of sleep on the plane!

Lowlights:

Cursing my Russian neighbor for the first two hours of the flight for having rotten breath
Realizing that the rotten breath I smelled was mine
Finding splotches of yellow all over my shirt. Can't remember eating anything yellow
The rubber gooey part of my headphone popped off after about 10 minutes. Gone. Lame.
6 hours of sleep in 40+ hours :(

But who cares, I AM HOME!!

25 and thinking

2010-04-12T18:27:00.000-07:00

Soundtrack: Don't Stop Me Now by Queen
There seems to be a widespread panic people reach approaching their 25th birthday- a quarter-life crisis. I can understand where 'they' are coming from. My biological clock is ticking and 25 is the first obvious age where people actually expect something out of you besides grades and entry-level work. Tomfoolery and shenanigans are for the 24 and under crowd, 25 and up is for making things happen!

Still, with all the 'pressure' from the universe, I'm pretty thrilled about being 25. Don't know why since I've got very few of my ducks in a row. But that's half the fun now, isn't it- tracking down ducks and trying to get 'em lined up and working right (so 30 doesn't end up a disaster?).

In honor of my 25th birthday (and because everyone wants to know), here are 25 things I've been thinking about lately, some pretty frequent mantra's of my station in life, some fairly recent realizations:

1. It's not worth being mad for more than 5 minutes
2. Go. It's worth the time/money/feeling ridiculous for the photo-op/bragging rights/passport stamp
3. If it's not posted as against the rules, it probably isn't
4. Talk to strangers, they're a reminder that there is good and friendly in the world
5. A life you're proud of takes effort
6. Regrets can and do happen every day; there's a chance to fix most regrets
7. Just because you fell through accomplishing a goal doesn't mean you shouldn't make it again
8. Forever is a long time. Remember it but be okay with today too
9. Holding hands is a good idea
10. Being happy is a decision, not a product of circumstance
11. Music has an amazing power to change your mood for better or keep you in a moody rut
12. Don't settle for anything, but be willing to find that your idea of 'best' is wrong
13. Cold water is the most delicious and amazing substance on earth
14. Nothing beats giggling, especially with your sister
15. Family is better than water
16. It is too easy to stalk/be stalked on the internet. It is too hard to stop/prevent it
17. You shouldn't expect to read poetry like you do novels, but it should stop your breath from time to time
18. Even a small heel impacts the way you walk and how good your legs look
19. Being nice is one of our main purposes/challenges/goals in this life
20. Being a grown-up is pretty great. But can seem crappy if you think about the details too much
21. Most people have it harder than me
22. Emotions are messy but usually worth dealing with; I am not crazy if I feel them; in fact, it is normal, and probably a good thing
23. I love babies
24. I know some pretty great people and I wish I could adequately express to them the high regard in which I hold them
25. I could do anything. I'm 25 and the world's my oyster :)

Stinky hands and Red Shirts

2010-04-09T01:21:00.000-07:00

My day started out with this:Usually a day starting out with this stunning a sunrise kind of just glows, but somehow it ended up not so- climaxing with my showering the smell of squid off my hands throwing (and breaking) my disposable razor after cutting myself shaving (again). I started off with a spat and a nice stare in the face with some of my own faults and the effect they have on others. Probably good in the long run; not fun. Then a needless trip to the distribution center-- already closed for Thai New Year and NOT selling garments even if I beg and throw out my pout.

Then a stop-by to an old investigator friend whose life, quite honestly, just depresses me. She's not doing the church thing anymore really, and when listening to her reasons why, I really didn't feel like they were excuses. Her life is just HARD and when your daily routing consists of buying vegetables, gutting squid (surprisingly disgusting booger guts come out of those things) and hoping that you sell enough to make your rent (since her four ungrateful children aren't helping her out any) what do you do? I bore my testimony that if she lets God in her life, He'll make her stronger, less tired, and more capable, but MAN. Her snotty selling buddy isn't helping out much. Two other semi-inactive women I taught screened my calls - here's when I feel so strange straddling that line between missionary and friend. I wanted to contact these women because of a sort of sisterhood and friendship; they see me as the come back to church police, which I guess I am too, but not like they think. I don't know, it's just awful to see people who you know KNEW the gospel is true. Not just got commandeered into baptism or riled up into a fashionable western religion. All three of these women were ones who I thought GOT IT. And maybe they still do. But what am I supposed to do about that? Blech, it feels just awful.

These guys aren't helping my mood. The Red Shirts. I understand what's making them so angry- the current Prime Minister pretty much put himself in power by shutting down the airport a year or more ago and the Red Shirts mostly just want a chance to vote for someone they choose. Abhisit, the guy currently in charge, doesn't seem to be doing very well; unless you're already wealthy, in which case, he's helping out loads. Most of the protesters are poor, unemployed and from the country- using their voice in the only way they know how. It worked for the last group (the Yellow Shirts, who put Abhisit in office) and seems to be working now. It's really not at all as dangerous as US news must be making it sound- mostly just random parade honk fests and street parties that make already atrocious traffic worse.

But the economy is taking a hit for it. Plus, the crowd seems to be losing interest in a tailgate party style protest. They stormed Parliament; malls and other public locations close from time to time; and for the first time today, the SkyTrain was closed in preparation for the 'mob' (that is the word in Thai for a Red Shirt gathering). It will likely get worse before it gets better. Abhisit just pulled out the gloves by basically forbidding groups of five or more to congregate. Good luck, sir. Your nation is not going to take to that very well. Even Thai New Year and its infamous water festival are being tainted by a widespread unsettled feeling. Here's some of my photos and a little video explaining... Good luck Red Shirts! But please stop keeping me in traffic for 2 hours.

Hot

2010-04-07T22:08:00.000-07:00

Feels like 106 degrees and I kind of want to die. Somehow this is looking more and more appealing:

Current Weather in Sammamish, WA

I finally got my flight in order this week. Here's my travel lady reading the directions to the credit card imprinting machine, which people apparently still use (but not often enough to know how). What are travel agents typing forever anyway? All sorts of pass codes and calculations make me nervous. Obviously not using Ortbitz. And why is travel softward stuck in 1995? It looks like the same program that Jessica used to book Jonah's flight to New York in Sleepless in Seattle. Anyway, April 15th at 12:30 I'll be officially stateside!

Getting all dolled up

2010-04-05T20:55:00.000-07:00

Soundtrack: Supermodel by RuPaul

Oh is one of those soul mate women who I can't hardly imagine not meeting in my lifetime. I love her. So when she called me back and said we'd meet at Central World ("The largest lifestyle shopping destination in Bangkok"), I figured we'd do lunch and some pricey shopping. A little weird for a girl who lives pretty far outside the city and last I heard was selling rice at a cafeteria, but I've seen weirder, so whatever.

Before I knew what was coming
Oh doesn't sell rice anymore, she sells MLM products (you know,like Amway, Nuskin, Etc). She came to Central World for the Annual Expo and Makeover Day (2010!) and I was the lucky winner (by default of being a foreigner whose BFF held a makeup brush) of a makeover. Well, everyone passing by the expo was getting a makeover, but I was the lucky enough to have my picture taken 30+ times throughout the process of being caked up to look like a transvestite.

Giving my make up artist a real trusting/excited smile
I even was interviewed by my overzealous saleswoman makeoverater (direct quote to the cameraman: "When she came in she didn't really want much make-up [true] but now she's saying she wants more! She feels confident and and won't let me stop! [not true] She has pimples all over her face [no comment] and now she doesn't have to be ashamed anymore [thank you...]"). This lovely lady also explained to me that she makes 20,000 Baht a month, not because she's good at selling, she just knows how to explain the benefits of such a great system. It's not just products or a business, it's a lifestyle and would I like to jump on the wagon? No thanks, ma'am, but I will take some barley and rice capsules that will supposedly clear up my acne by breaking up the constipation you keep telling me I have.

Oh, why don't you just sell rice?

Before I put on my RuPaul leotard and wig

Massage, Madame?

2010-04-02T06:58:00.000-07:00

Soundtrack: Footloose by Kenny Loggins (only the line "everybody cut everybody cut" over and over[in my head], for one of they key steps in loosening up the flow of energy along sens in the body is called cut and I repeated it along the body)

I always said that if I were to drop out of school and take on a trade skill instead, I would go for massage. I usually don't much care for massages given to me- most people aren't very good at dealing with my mini muscles on a little frame like mine. Still, massage, to me, can do a lot more good for someone than skin care, a haircut (arguable) or something to do with real estate. So, since I'm more or less bumming around Bangkok without a care in the world, I opted to take a course on Thai massage. Here:I only found out after I got in on day one that the school is not only run by an almost entirely Japanese staff, it is filled with almost an entirely Japanese student body (three girls in my class besides me, a man in the advanced class, and three other mystery Japs [is that a derogatory word? I don't mean it to be] who are not students or employees but loiter around the practice room, sometimes as massage subjects, sometimes jumping in to give them. The only non-islanders in house were Ajan Woot, the chubby co-instructor with a cartoony Asian smile, and Yolanda, an intermediate course flunkie who followed her Thai husband here from Switzerland seven years ago. Yolanda is a compulsive coffee drinker and smoker and she's got dishwater blonde curls that belong behind the register of a late night gas station mini-mart, but she laughs a lot and doesn't speak Japanese so I like spending time with her. My farang friend also speaks a decent amount of Thai, which means there was a good chunk of time when no English was spoken at all. Lucky me. What's the word for femoral artery again?

According to Wikipedia, Thai massage is all about air/energy and how it travels throughout the body via lines (sen). "Massage therapists [that's me] manipulate a handful of major sen lines by pressing certain points along lines." It's not that dough kneading business we do in America, this is Real Live Traditional Medicine.

I'll have to wait on uploading pictures of me personally doing massage (I only took a few and accidentally left my camera at school over the weekend) and the Japanese girls who, of course, took loads (no peace signs though :( ) haven't emailed theirs to me yet. So just in case you don't know what Thai massage is, here's what I'm supposedly qualified to do now:

Color coordinate with client and invade their personal spacePerform torture without client knowing they are being tortured

Have awful hair and help out a friendWho needs a resume when I have THIS!
(I had brought a whole stack of these 2x2 photos and I'll tell you what I looked good in the picture! Unfortunately, I used up my LAST TWO on my Lao visa (shaking my fist at Laos now) and had to take a new shot during lunch on the day of our exam. If you look close, you can see from my pink lips that I had just eaten a very spicy bowl of something ([it was guiddiaw and it was dericious].)

Tam Lao

2010-03-31T03:44:00.000-07:00

Soundtrack: Bad Romance by Lady Gaga (Rara ah ah ah Rama ra ma ma Gaga Ooh la la)

You know what sucks is visas. Thailand's are especially baffling because you basically get a free one... unless you're staying for more than 90 days (which wouldn't have been a problem for me until I decided to extend), at which point you have to up and cross the border, pay that country's visa fee and jump back Thai side.

Boo, Laos, all on my own this time and cranky for the most of it. I got a few knick knacks for the fam (sneak peek to the left. Yes, that's a blow torch) and dropped off the books I borrowed from the senior couple (good) and spent a good part of Lao in transit, and then either wandering or napping/pouting in my hot room (not so good).

Luckily, two of my favorite people live within an hour of the Thai-Lao border. These two ladies gave me a lot of hell when they were my companions but somehow through it all I ended up a better missionary. And we ended up great friends. They still pick on me quite a bit, come to think of it, but in that I know they really love me and just don't know how to show it kind of way. We listed to a lot of Lady Gaga the few days I was there (PS She is a FREAK). Ae and I watched Law and Order (I Hate crime shows but MAN are they addicting) while she recouped from her recent surgery (her cute niece thought my prickly leg hair was a rash). We spent time at the mall (MK, perfume shopping and the fish spa where Tik was working (slash playing on facebook all day). Love/hate (but mostly love) them
On the way back from Udon I got to go to church in Khon Kaen, my last area. There are some seriously fabulous members there. Dif is a girl who got baptized while I was there and is pretty much my soul mate (I mean, I get what it's all about because of her). Since I left she got a husband, a baby, her patriarchal blessing and three new front teeth (they were missing when I was there). :)Photos taken by my sweet new phone (even though it looks like I photoshopped my same face in both of these pictures and changed the lighting)