I'm "That Person" Today

Washing sheets is causing my washing machine to make sounds similar to a small elephant learning square dancing somewhere upstairs. A small elephant with a drainage problem.

Does the crazy psycho stalker chick who lives 15 miles away and doesn't own a car but shows up to your house at 11pm and stands in your window instead of knocking on the door know that she is crazy? Just wondering.

Sometimes I struggle with insecurity. Probably because I got one of those X chromosomes. I also breathe sometimes. Thought I would throw that out there while I am busy stating the obvious. What I don't seem to struggle with is that little voice in my head that tells me it is ok not go to the gym because millions of people lead happy and fulfilling lives and are still a little fluffy. That voice and I are on a first-name basis. His name is Chuck. Or maybe her name is Bernice.

Approximately 8 posts ago when I started this blog - again - I vowed that it was not going to become a place for me to vent strange and personal things about myself to the world. That didn't last long. I've named the voices in my head. Maybe next time we'll talk about my 13th toe.

(Now aren't you wondering about numbers 11 and 12?)

Lemons to Lemonaid

For a little over a week now, I have been prepping to teach some very technical training at work. Nothing totally crazy, but I had two hours to prep and present for last week, and another six for today and tomorrow. I was getting some last minute items ready, and I got the word 15 minutes before hand that it was "postponed." Argh. Ugh. *$&#@.

Me - zero to frustrated in three seconds.

I would like to say that I handled this decision with dignity and grace. I kind of didn't. I spent time trying to understand the reasons and came up empty. The zero to frustrated might have had something to do with that. I may have expressed that frustration. To more than one person. I may have had to apologize to at least one individual.

My response made someone decide I needed a break from the office for a few hours. So I got to trek to a facility up one of the nearby canyons.

This particular canyon had several large rocks fall into the middle of the road last week.

The right side over there used to be the other half of the road. Scale is kind of hard to get across in little photos taken from my cell phone, but those cones are not the little lets-play-fusball-in-the-gym cones. They came up to about my waist. Big rocks.

That used to be the road. And our cables. Which don't work any more.

Tim: "Maybe we should dig around and see if we can find our cables and find a way to get them working again."
Me: "No thank you. I don't want to be the subject of a sequel to 127 Hours."

Way up there is where they came from. And in this picture I am about to get run over by a rock the size of a bus. Luckily it is settled. Sorta.

So the moral of the story is this. Yes, the day started out not so good. But after some time in the sunshine under that crystal blue sky, I was able to gain a little perspective. Because when it comes down to it most everything is better than getting crushed by a rock the size of a small house or a very large car.

And I think all in all, the day turned out pretty darn fine.

I Love Sundays

Not every day is the same. And not every Sunday is the same. But every now and then there is a day when I finish three hours of church and I am sad it's over.

Today I finished my stint filling in as the person who stands and waves my arm out of beat to the music for 300 people who don't watch anyway. Except the one guy in the 2nd row who spends most of the hour trying to catch my eye and pull faces to make me laugh. He said he did it to his wife (the one who asked me to fill in) so he felt like it was only natural that he should continue to torment me. I think I kept track and I averaged about 1 out of 4 songs that I actually got on the right measure, and 0 out of 4 songs that I sang the right words. Eh. The right words are overrated.

Today is also the day I found out a friend lost her mother-in-law this week. It wasn't totally unexpected but still hard to bear. Her husband is about my age, and it is hard to think of living without my mother. I miss her when she leaves for two months. I am sure everyone has a great mom, but I'm sorry that all but 5 other people are out of luck. Because me and my brothers and sisters actually won that lottery.

She has told us for years that all she ever wants for her birthday is to spend time with us. So we started listening. This was several years ago. We went up one of the canyons and enjoyed the leaves that were just starting to change colors. Another year, we went horseback riding. I think we've done that a couple of times, now that I think about it.

This is more recent. She is an adventurer at heart. She wanted to go paragliding when we were in New Zealand. So she did! I wish I had a quarter of her spunk. I am lucky she is my mom, and I am glad that I have her in my life.

A or B?

About a year and a half ago, I had the chance to go back to New York for work. I was excited to be in the area of some of the Church History sites, and one night I went to the Sacred Grove. I don't know how the stars aligned, but I was the only one there. Not a soul in site, and I stayed almost two hours walking all the paths and taking a bunch of pictures. It was late September but the color and the light in the leaves made me feel very much like it could have been spring. I imagine this grove is stunning when the fall colors start to change.

In no way does the fate of the world hang in the balance of this question. But which of these is better?

I love the sun burst on this one. I love the shadows. Everything about it is just cool to me.

But then there is this one. No burst, but the sun is doing this glow-y thing on all the trees and I like that for different reasons.

Confession

I think there should be a clinical name for the plague of chronic guilt. I do my church calling, but maybe not as well as I should or could = guilt. I am good at my job, but maybe don't give the same consistent effort every day = guilt. My dishes aren't done = guilt. I don't put enough effort into my relationships as daughter, granddaughter, sister, cousin, aunt, and friend = guilt, and gratitude for the people I love who cut me some slack. I have not adopted-a-whale or donated to save the Ecuadorian rain forests = ok, no real guilt on this one.

Overcoming Chronicitus Guiltilus (my Latin is rusty) is something I work at because it requires effort to let go of negative feelings that just weigh me down. It keeps me from seeing the good things I do and the difference I can make when I focus on what is really important.

But every now and then I do something that probably warrants a little guilt. Today I went to Park City and bought my very first (and last) Coach purse = guilt doesn't begin to touch buyer's remorse.

But here's the thing. It's shiny. And it smells good. And it's pink. And it was marked down. Three times. And I know I shouldn't have. But I did. And I will love it forever. And when I am dead, I will give it to one of my cute nieces and they will love it forever. And someone somewhere will still free Willy.

So when I start to feel too bad, I will go here in my mind.

And I will be just fine. Because I have a cute pink bag. And because waves cresting in front of a setting sun is just awesome. I don't care who you are.

Then for a change of pace I might picture this...

Or this...

And who can even think of purses when boys as cute as these are giving you grins like those?

Not me.

Old Photos

I love seeing some of these photos.

This is my grandmother. She is one of the most amazing women I know. She is a fighter and a pioneer in so many ways. 

This is my grandpa. I never got a chance to meet him, but I think he is the one who passed on the quirky sense of humor that runs through my family. And the lack of lips. I can't wait to sit and talk with him one day.

My aunt, my uncle, and my dad. It's a mischievous looking group.

That is my dad as a young and carefree dude. Before six children made him lose all his hair.

There is a group of young punks.

And another group of young punks.

My grandma made these dolls for me and my cousin for our first birthdays. This is the only photo I have of this doll before I pulled all her hair out. But cut me some slack. I was only one! And it took me about 5 years to figure out how to spell "Ish." How creative of a name do you expect me to come up with? I was only one!

Horizontal Surfaces

Clutter.

Blech.

I don't understand how I can be so weird about my desk at work - it's almost so clean it freaks me out. A place for everything and everything in it's place. I am probably one of the only people who on a regular basis climbs up on my desk to wipe off the tops of my cabinets.

But then it comes to the flat surfaces in my home. Something in my mind tells me that anything I hold can safely be put ON TOP of that stack of papers, pens, books, ribbons, receipts, keys, plants, and maybe my prosthetic leg.

And then 10pm rolls around, and I decide that RIGHT NOW is the right time to reorganize the pantry so I can clean off the top of the fridge.

And speaking of the top of things, this isn't the top of my fridge. It's the top of my brother's head. And his cute little boy. This is the very window where the little guy stood and waved goodbye to his niece and nephew with one of my favorite parting lines ever. "Good-bye. I love you. DRY CLEANING!!"

Hostages and the Ghost Pirate Mafia

Something is wrong with my head.

Stop laughing and saying "tell me something I DON'T know!"

When I settle down for a nice restful night of slumber, some little repressed part of my brain kicks in and decides to give me an alter life. Two nights ago, the results were horrific. My family was being held hostage in my house. It was so awful I woke up several times. Nothing good there.

Last night was a little more amusing/weird. There were pirate ships...

I'm fairly certain there was a secret lair in a cave. I was undercover. Trying to break up a ghost pirate mafia ring. Crazy.

As a side note, it was decided that in the actual event of a fire, someone is going to need check to make sure I evacuate. I guess when the alarms went off this morning around 6am, I had myself convinced that it was not an actual emergency. So if I am not in the normal waking state during an emergency, someone  should probably kick me.

Mauled

I was stretching last night, and I couldn't figure out why my arm muscles were just a little bit sore. Was it the extra set of pull ups at the gym? Was it the additional 10 pounds I put on my bar as I did curls?

Bwahahahahahaha!!! Excuse me while I wipe away tears of laughter.

No. It wasn't anything like that.

I don't know how I forgot. I got mauled by a dinosaur. Not once, but twice this weekend.

And what the dinosaur left untouched, the bat-er-ina swooped in and finished off.

One of the favorite games started out Jump Over You. It's pretty easy to play. I lay (lie? where is my Chicago Manual of Style when i need it) on the ground and the short people run around the room and finish the lap by leaping over my horizontal body. The bat wings carried one munchkin over pretty good. The dino doesn't have very long range on his jumps yet. So that game quickly became Jump On You. Which ended when it turned into Jump On Your Face.

Other fun games were Lift Me Up To The Ceiling, and Let Me Climb On You. We rounded things out with a few turns of Launch Me Over Your Head. I promise these two can put Bob and Gillian to shame.

What I'm Doing

Gilmore Girls is on. I am watching it on TV when I have all 7 seasons on DVD about four steps away. But right now that feels far.

What I should be doing: laundry, dishes, dancing in the rain, getting ready for a birthday tomorrow for my favorite non-relation roommate, making dinner. Ok, maybe everything but the dancing thing. I don't want to frighten the neighbors. Plus I would have to dry my hair again, and that doesn't seem like a good trade-off for a few moments of frivolity. And I think responsible people frown on unnecessary time in the elements if you are trying to get your body not to be in revolt.

I'm not doing any of those things.

You know how some people take photos and they have a photo face? They look the same in every photo because they are wonderful and photogenic and they look flawless? I am not sure there is anyone like that in my family. Don't misunderstand, we have the faces and physique of models, all of us. In person. But when a camera comes out we tend to make dramatic (aka funny) faces. Tongues hang out.

But this is my favorite. You can't script a moment like this. Once you finish taking in the lion leaping from the background, appreciate that there is a leopard coming in from the right side.

Beginning #2

There are a lot of things I don't do well. Throwing pots on a spinning wheel. Missing the potholes in the road. Parallel parking. But I think I do ok with words. And I am inspired by the blogs I read and the people who put their humanity out there to share with the world.

So here is a bit of beauty from my world.

The blossoms only bloom for about a week of the year. One of the benefits to getting to work reeeealy early is that no one is around to get in the way of your photo!

Milford Sound, New Zealand. Go there. 

This guy got a new sister this week. I hear she looks a little like me. Can't wait to meet her!