Say it loud, and there's music playing

Discovering the Real True Meaning of Christmas

2011-12-26T10:10:00.000-07:00

Today I was going through some old files and happened across an essay I wrote while I was in grad school. I was visiting my favorite guys' apartment in the ward, where most of my best friends lived and where I had many amazing and involved conversations. On this particular night, I was talking to Josh when his roommate Brad came in, in the midst of some new insights about the atonement that he wanted to share and discuss. After some very good conversation, curfew came around so I went home and went to bed. However, it must have still been on Brad's mind, because he ended up writing an essay on his thoughts and sharing it with Josh and I. It was a very good and interesting essay, but I don't have his permission to post it, so I won't. However, he ended with this paragraph:

I haven’t figured out the mechanism behind the application of grace, nor how the Atonement supplies the “infinite grace” (Moroni 8:3) that was “made possible by his atoning sacrifice (Bible Dictionary). I’d also like to learn how to “tap into” this grace more. Please send me any insight into these three matters.

I was so intrigued by this line of thought that I wrote my own essay and sent it to him and Josh:

First, a quote from "The Broken Heart," Elder Bruce Hafen’s excellent commentary on the atonement, which I really give a very high recommendation. This is from the introduction, on page 7:"I once wondered if those who refuse to repent but who then satisfy the law of ustice by paying for their own sins are then worthy to enter the Celestial kingdom. The answer is no. The entrance requirements fro Celestial life are simply higher than merely satisfying the law of ustice. For that reason, paying for our own sins will not bear the same fruit as repenting of our sins. Justice is a law of balance and order and it must be satisfied, eiher through our payment or His. But if we decline the Savior's invitation to let Him carry our sins, and then satisfy justice by ourselves we will not yet have xperienced the complete rehabilitation that can occur through a combination of divine assistance and genuine repentance. Working together, those forces have the power permenantly to change our hearts and our lives, preparing us for Celestial life . . . the 'natural man' will remain an enemy to God forever- even after paying for his own sins- unless he also 'becometh a saint through the atonement of Christ and becometh as a child' (Mosiah 3:19)."I believe this is the general idea that you are getting at in your grace essay. So, the general question becomes then, how does the atonement give us that infinite grace that allows us to become like the Father, so that the atonement is a rehabilitative thing instead of just a restorative thing?To answer this question, I think we need to take a step back in time to the Garden of Eden. Before Adam and Eve partook of the fruit, there was no death in the world. They were both spiritually and physically intact. (2 Ne 2:22-23). They had physical bodies, but they were not truly separated from God the way we are today. But they were incapable of progressing. Without the fall, “all things which were created must have remained in the same state in which they were after they were created; and they must have remained forever, and had no end” (2 Ne 2:22). It was only after the fall that Adam and Eve had the necessary knowledge to know good from evil and to make conscious, informed decisions that would either bring them closer to God or farther away from Him. As we know, this agency is a critical part of the plan of salvation. No man can be saved in ignorance, it is only by consciously making good decisions and intentionally turning our hearts to God and allowing Him to change them for us that we can achieve Exaltation. However, it was also the fall that created the first real spiritual distance between God and His children on earth. For the first time, they really needed Him, His wisdom and guidance and love, but since God cannot look upon sin with the least degree of allowance, they were cut off from Him- they were spiritually dead.From this, I can see two important ways that the atonement provides grace for us.First, it provides us access to God. Because of the fall, or because of Adam’s transgression, we all undergo spiritual death with our physical birth. We are separated from God and He can no longer come to us and assist us because of the unclean state in which we live. Christ and the atonement are a critical part of our contact with the Father. We pray to Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus Christ because He is literally our contact between earth and heaven. Although I do not understand how, the atonement bridges he gap of spiritual death for all men who will merely come unto Christ and allow Him to open a window to heaven.Now comes the second point. The atonement overcomes spiritual death, and by so doing, allows us access to God’s goodness and blessings- or what we might call this grace. Grace, ennabling power, that which compensates for our imperfect attempts and sanctifies us. Another quote from Elder Hafen: “Consider the life and experience of the Savior himself, because His own development was marked by his receipt of the Father’s grace. His experience shows us also that being free from sin is not quite the same thing as attaining divine perfection. ‘Though he were a son, yet he learned obedience by the things which he suffered; and being made perfect, he became the author of eternal salvation unto all them that obey him’ (Hebrews 5:8-9)”Even the Savior Himself learned things and attained perfection through mortality and grace. Now, how does one access this grace, this power that allows us to take what we have, and through the Lord’s assistance, become so much more than we could on our own? Honestly, I think the answer to that is much more closely tied to the basic teachings of the church than most people realize. When we are asked to read our scriptures and pray and ponder on the solemnities of eternity, we are doing those things which bring us in line with the will of God. Another way of saying this is that we are coming to Christ. It is by grace we are saved after all we can do- and what we can do is come unto Christ.You may find, as I do, that the nearer I come to Christ, often the less satisfied I am with myself. In these instances, I take comfort from remembering Ether 12:27: “And if men will come unto me, I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto all men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me.” See the connection? As we come unto Christ, He shows us our weakness. He shows us things we could not see before and helps us correct them- through His grace. It is sufficient to perfect us, but only if we are humble. Any man who is absorbing the gospel through constant study and conversing with the Lord through frequent prayer should be on the right path.One other principle that I find to be quite applicable to accessing grace through the atonement- we must offer everything we have to the Lord if He is going to be able to do anything worthwhile with it. He asks for our hearts- our whole hearts, not just part. He asks us to love him with all our minds, not just half. Only when we can give our whole selves to Him can He really start to make a masterpiece. We must consecrate ourselves to Him, consecrate our actions and our desires and ourselves, so that “he will consecrate [our] performance[s] unto [us], that [our] performance[s] may be for the welfare of [our[ soul[s]” (2 Ne 32:9).For further edification, I strongly recommend reading “The Broken Heart.” I have a copy in my apartment if you want to borrow it (you’re welcome to it also, Josh). Also, for something a little shorter but also loaded with lots of insights on the atonement, Elder Hafen wrote a conference talk that covers many of the same basic ideas, “Beauty for Ashes.” It can be easily found on the church website.Thanks for giving me an excuse to write this out. It’s a lot longer than I anticipated, but it felt good.

I'm so glad I happened across this today. Isn't this what Christmas is really about? Celebrating the beginning of a life that would end with the greatest act in history? Merry Christmas to you all, and remember that the true spirit of Christmas is not about giving each other gift of merchandise, no matter how selflessly given. It's about changing our souls from the inside out and rejoicing in the atonement that makes all men free. This is the true gift of Christmas.

2011-12-03T09:18:00.001-07:00

Today was amazing- we visited gorillas and the Rwandan Genocide Memorial in Kigali. I want to write my thoughts on the Memorial before I forget. [p]I've been reading Paul Rusesabagina's autobiography as well and I'm in the middle of reading about his experiences hiding over a thousand people in the Hotel Milles Collines in Kigali during the Interahamwe bloodbath. He had been in Brussels with his wife and two-year-old son on a vacation a mere week before the genocide's official and intense beginning when the president's plane was shot from the sky. Through a truly amazing set of events, Paul and his family stayed safely- although not comfortably- in the hotel with their refugees. [p]Paul notes several times how he wished he had stayed in Brussels a little longer, and not come back when the trouble started. I read that last night. Today as I walked from exhibit to exhibit, I thought about Paul and what he went through to save those lives, and his periodic regrets of having returned to Rwanda. And the other thought that kept popping through my head was from Music and the Spoken Word this past summer- "a ship in a harbor is safe, but that's not what a ship is made for."[p]Paul Rusesabagina and so many other brave people like him were ships on the ocean during the genocide. They risked their own lives to protect the lives of others. Paul wished that he was safely in Belgium- in his harbor, as it were, but it's hard not to believe that this particular ship's voyage was perhaps one that Paul was assigned before he came.[p]Like Paul, we all long for our safe harbor on some level. It's different for each of us, but each of us deserves to reflect on what that harbor is that's keeping us off the high seas- or perhaps a better approach is to identify the high seas when they arrive and sail into them without looking back at the harbor.[p]The other mail idea I took from the memorial was a theme I saw throughout the building. There were allusions to "how could we let this happen?" and "we must prevent this from ever happening again." And there was one very powerful plaque that related something like this: "The Nazis did not exterminate six thousand Jews and the Hutus did not kill a million Tutsis. They killed one, then another, then another, a million times."[p]As Paul writes in his book, there was no magical switch on April 6th, 1994 that caused the Hutus to suddenly hate and turn on their Tutsi neighbors and friends. It built up slowly, over years of propaganda and decades of racial division encouraged by foreign powers. It was done one toxic idea at a time, as people played on wrongs, real and imagined, , that the Tutsis had inflicted on them as the ruling class.[p]And then I pondered how those small grudges and divisions built and built until they created a genocide.[p]Last year, I had a powerful conversation with someone about a close friend of mine who I'd been having some trouble feeling close to. As we spoke, this man asked me what I had done to create the distance between us. I reflected and confessed that all I could think about were the thinks she had done to me.[p]I was gently reprimanded as the man stopped me and said, "no, no, that's not how you go about healing a relationship. Can you see that really the conflict between you and your friend is no different than the conflicts that we are at war over? They all start with a misunderstanding that goes deeper and deeper until a relationship si broken, or a war begins."[p]So, as I read the plaque that stated that until we truly learn from the past, "never again" will stay "again and again," I concluded that the way to prevent a genocide is at the very roots of a society. If we can set aside our pride for humility and allow love to swallow up our differences, if we can have the courage to be honest with each other and live the mantra that we are all on the same team- if my friend loses, I also lose in some way- then we need never fear another genocide. However, if all we are relying on are the band-aids of law enforcement, armies, and the UN, then who's to say it won't happen again?[p]So, for myself, I choose to take a stand against genocide and other atrocities by living my principle. I chose to take a stand by eliminating prejudice from my life, and living so there are no strangers in my life. I choose to love, and to feed that love so there is no room for hate. If I do this, if we do this, how many lives can we change?[p]perhaps you'd like to reflect on yourself and make your own personal resolution to stand with me.

'Twas the night before Thanksgiving . . .

2011-11-23T22:47:00.001-07:00

And all through the house, the nephews kept stirring around like a mouse. The sisters were cooking in the kitchen with care, in hopes that good dishes soon would be there. And I on my sofa was trying to sleep but near me were young boys who kept making peeps.There's an interesting trend the last couple of years when I spend the night at the family house if my nephews are there. They magically gravitate to wherever I'm sleeping at night. And since I long since lost the privilege of having a dedicated room to stay in (which is very appropriate), often that means that there are three of us piled on couches and on the floor. We've had some adventures, including the time that I was planning on staying in the room with two twin beds and both T and K wanted to join me. I gave them a little explanation about how there were only two beds but three people, so one of them would be sleeping on the floor, when K piped in, "that's okay, you can share my bed." So I ended up sharing the bed with a five-year-old.Tonight we are downstairs, with T and I sleeping on the leather sofas and K sleeping on the floor in a little low fort that he made himself, mostly consisting of blankets draped over upside-down banana chairs. It completely reminds me of something I would have done at his age. He spent a long time adjusting it, until it was time to pull out the stern aunt voice and tell him that it was sleeping time. Then he ran upstairs for a drink of water and I'm almost positive he snuck a fresh Thanksgiving roll from the rack while he as up there, because I can hear him quietly smacking on something under the blankets and chairs. At this point I'm not sure it's worth it to fight that battle, though. Time to go to sleep so I can be awake for the family Turkey Trot tomorrow morning. And have a good Thanksgiving before heading off to Rwanda on Friday. Hooray! Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

A stroll down memory lane

2011-11-12T13:45:00.001-07:00

Smeels of Kenyawalking past houses, when I first moved heretree with lamplight and Nauvoosecret pathway and orchard and secret placesmaple leaves and botany classIt snowed today.First, it was gusty and drizzly. I was at work this morning and when I left at lunchtime, the wind blew the door right out of my grasp and would have kept it blown open if I hadn't forcibly closed it. Then as I ran some errands, the weather got wilder and wilder until it seemed to kind of snap into a sudden calm as the rain turned to a quiet drifting of snow. It was beautiful and peaceful to observe from the snugness of a blanket.Then a moment hit when I decided I'd been inside long enough, so I put on my bright green coat (not only is it cheerful, but it's a very nice pedestrian coat when it's dark- very noticeable) and hiked up into the foothill neighborhoods. And I do mean hike. It's a bit of an adventure just getting up as high in the hills as my own house when the snows come, but things get progressively steeper from my house up, and I have no clue how those people get their cars home in the winter. But it's great for a stroll with some beautiful architecture to observe, and on the way back, beautiful vistas of the city. This stroll also seemed to be triggering all kinds of random memories for me. As I first began walking, I realized I was on my old street, where I lived when I first moved to Salt Lake, and I suddenly recalled the walks that I took in those first days and week, especially before my job began. I had forgotten just how isolated and lonely I felt, coming from the camaraderie of a tight-knit BYU ward with friends I'd known for years- and now I knew Melanie, and I was meeting people in my new ward, but I didn't have a network. And I went on walks and I looked at houses and I felt a deep, aching hunger to be inside them, where warmth and friendship and love exist. It was that very driving emptiness in my life that propelled me to get Melanie to go meet our neighbors in our apartment complex, even in the midst of the onset of depression. The desire for human contact was stronger. And it was during that quest that we met our wonderful neighbors Daniel and Dallin, who became a critical part of my support network and who are really responsible for the base of friends I developed in the singles' ward (they also convinced me to attend their singles' ward, the student ward, rather than the stake ward I had been attending. That also made a massive difference in my life). So tonight, as I walked past the houses, and thought of everything I've built in the last three years in terms of friendships and relationships and deep human connections, I felt a huge amount of gratitude. Belonging is a critical feeling.I kept on walking, and I found a row of maple trees with most of their leaves still on. They were delicately iced with a thin layer of snow, and a streetlamp was shining through one of them in a slightly surreal way, the light from the lamp dancing off the edges of the snow. This time I was taken back by my memory almost nine years ago. I hadn't realized it was that long ago, but the memory was of Nauvoo. I lived there from January to May, taking classes at the BYU-Nauvoo center, which has since been torn down. I loved that building and I love that city. I loved putting on multiple layers of clothing to go out and brave the zero-degree weather, but even more I loved when the seasons began to turn and the river ice broke up (I watched this transition eagerly through my bedroom window, which afforded a great view of the Mississippi), and when the spring bulbs began to push their way up and I didn't require my trench coat when I went on walks, I just about went crazy from spring fever. I walked all over that city, exploring historical sites and back woods, and groves of trees. Then the magnolias started to bloom, and they were all over the place, covered in delicate pink and white blossoms that smelled, oh, so divine. One night in particular, Danielle and I went for a moonlit walk. We set out to watch the sun set over the river at our special place, past the Sarah Granger Kimball home to a grassy little bend in the river. Then on the way back, with the moon shining down, we stopped to glory in the magnolias- their scent, their beauty. The moon was full and shone down through the petals, a scene that Monet would have loved. It was quite a bit different than looking at lamplight through snow-frosted maple leaves, but the memory came back so sharply, and made me smile again. Nauvoo was a period of huge blessings and the formation of deep friendships was instigated there. Danielle is still one of my best friends.I curved around the peak of the road and began descending in the rambling, roundabout way that those streets do. I passed another maple tree, but this one made me pause for a different reason. It was a silver maple, a beautifully delicate tree with silver bark and very intricately designed leaves. This time, I was reminded of a class I took at BYU- one of my very favorite undergraduate courses. Not surprisingly, it was called field botany. The gist of things was that we would follow our professor around campus until he found a tree or shrub we hadn't learned yet, and as we gathered round, he would give us the necessary information to identify it. We learned the silver maple, Acer saccharinum, towards the end of the class, and the beautiful leaves were changing colors and falling. I gathered up a handful of them and stuck them in my binder. Later on, when I found them, they'd essentially been pressed, and I tied them to pieces of string and hung them from our living-room ceiling. Botany nerds do things like that. But tonight, as I saw the silver maple leaves, in a kind of tribute to Professor Furniss and everything I learned in that class, I collected some and carried my little bouquet home.Rounding back down my street to go home, I caught a whiff of something indescribable that smelled like . . . something. I actually have no clue what it smelled like, but I can tell you that whatever it was conjured up very clear memories of Kenya. For a moment, I was back in Gathiga village, walking down the bumpy, uneven red clay roads with random trash piles being incinerated at various lengths. I was laying in my bed, being awoken by a combination of the rising sun, the chickens and pigs outside, and the neighbors who every morning, without fail, played beautiful, happy ukulele music that kind of became my soundtrack for the trip. I wonder what it will be like to go back. Will any of the kids even remember me? So many volunteers come and go. I'm sure the older girls will. I'm hoping that I can get another Kenyan pedicure sitting on the ground while the little kids crowd around. And it will be so different to be there without crazy Kate, my wonderful, spontaneous British roommate, or Cynthia, my anchor who guided me around Nairobi, or even Dominic, the fascinating and very offbeat volunteer who arrived the week before I left. And of course James won't be there. But Grace will, and I am so anxious to get to spend time with her, one of the most amazingly strong women I've ever met. I ended my walk home with a spring in my step- so many good times have been had, and so many good times are in store. And best of all, right this moment, things are good and peaceful. What a lovely little walk down memory lane.

Music Therapy

2011-10-13T23:26:00.002-06:00

It's been a great week. Good progress on sewing projects, an evening run to the hot tub generously shared to us by the Boys on Laurelhurst (we are the Girls on Blaine, it works quite nicely). I have almost all the necessary components for my Halloween costume, which will be fun. A very busy, full few days at work.
The only part of this week that hasn't been as good was an unexpected, painful conversation with a friend last night that left me in a state of, shall we say, emotional delicacy. This is not the place to go into details, but it was a conversation that left me with a hole in my gut all day.
But I knew that I had something waiting for me at the end of the day- choir practice. A choir loft full of almost four hundred good, fun, loving people singing together. I found myself praying that I would find songs in my folder that could give me a happiness boost. As I flipped through the sheet music, I was a little disappointed that none of them stood out to me as old comfort favorites, but still to get to sing was good enough.

Then we started actually singing. Somewhere in the mix, we sang "Consider the Lilies," an old favorite of mine. I sang it at my college graduation for my bachelor's degree. Something about the last verse started working on my tear ducts

Consider the sweet, tender children who must suffer on this earth
The pains of all of them He carried from the day of His birth
He clothes the lilies of the field
He feeds the lambs of His fold
And He will heal those who trust Him and make their hearts as gold

It especially resonated because on Monday, as I was driving to work and having a little chat with God on the way, I happened to pose the question to Him, "why on earth do you put up with my crazy antics?" And the response came in a startling flash- an image from the previous evening, Sunday, when I had been playing with my great little buddy H-man, my 20-month-old nephew. He's got some antics, I tell you what. But I love him so much, and I think he's adorable.

As this came up in my mind, I started laughing out loud. "Heavenly Father, really? You think I'm adorable?" and I felt the answer come right back, "Yes. I do. You're my little girl and I love you."

So here I am, trying to be a sophisticated adult living on my own, having a career, and traveling the world, and my Father is telling me that I still am, and will always be, His little girl.

Consider the sweet, tender children who must suffer on this earth

All of this popped through my head while I sang tonight.

Then, we proceeded to sing "I Believe in Christ." I must admit, it's a stirring anthem, but it's never been one of my absolute favorite hymns, probably mostly because I don't like the flow of the melody. Regardless, tonight, since I was already leaking at the eyes, that song struck me more forcefully than usual. Once again, it was a certain segment of the last verse that really woke up my spiritual senses:

I believe in Christ, He stands supreme
From Him I'll gain my fondest dream
And while I strive through grief and pain
His voice is heard, ye shall obtain

And yes, I'm definitely feeling some grief and pain right now, and that made me tear up, but more powerful than my own emotions in this case, I had a memory pop up that I hadn't thought of for a long time. I remember, as a teenager, sitting on the church pew with my family and singing "I Believe in Christ" during sacrament meeting. I was sitting near my mom, who was probably about three or four years into her multiple sclerosis diagnosis, and definitely in a lot of pain- beyond my comprehension, and that was well over a decade ago. In any case, as we sang the last verse, she visibly began to weep. It touched me. She didn't outright complain much about her condition, so I guess back then it was relatively easy to forget how hard the disease had made her life. But she did, and does, believe in Christ, and is truly committed to the ideal of standing with Him at the last day.

I don't know why I thought of that tonight, except the theme of the evening seemed to be the tenderness of Christ's beckoning to us, first with Consider the Lilies and now through I Believe in Christ. By this point, I had salt streaks down my cheeks and the front of my dress was soaked. But you know what? I felt so good inside. Not happy, exactly, but peaceful with a deep kind of peace- I might even call it the peace that passeth understanding.

It turned out that there were a few other tender mercies in the form of songs, too, and by the time I left, although I was tired and ragged, I felt so good inside. I'll just leave you with the lyrics to the song that touched me the most. I wish I could play a recording of it on my blog, because the arrangement is breathtaking as well, but you'll just get the words tonight:

Praise, my soul, the King of heaven,
to the throne thy tribute bring;
ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,
evermore God's praises sing.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Praise the everlasting King.

Praise the Lord for grace and favor
to all people in distress;
praise God, still the same as ever,
slow to chide, and swift to bless.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Glorious now God's faithfulness.

Fatherlike, God tends and spares us;
well our feeble frame God knows;
motherlike, God gently bears us,
rescues us from all our foes.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Widely yet God's mercy flows.

Angels in the heights, adoring,
you behold God face to face;
saints triumphant, now adoring,
gathered in from every race.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Praise with us the God of grace.

The House on Blaine and the Girls Who Lived There

2011-10-05T20:44:00.000-06:00

I've been pondering lately, among many other things, that one of the biggest blessings I can ever have is deep, satisfying friendships with deep, satisfying people. And the interesting thing is that the deeper I delve into myself and the more satisfied I am with life in general, the better I appreciate and love the people around me.

I live with four amazing girls. We are so varied in our skills and interests, but we are so good for each other. We have a professional violinist, a therapist, a health and nutrition student and a biochemistry PhD student- and me, the genetics researcher. I love and trust them all, and my relationship with each girl is so different- I bet this is why Heavenly Father's work and glory is to serve His children- because we're such a diverse, interesting lot.

Amber and I often engage in what we refer to as "geeking out" together. She's our biochemist, and we frequently have discussions about various chemicals, funny stories from the lab, or our respective research, Amber also likes to play devil's advocate and tease a great deal, and my natural reaction is to challenge her right back when she's being contrary on purpose. It's quite entertaining. Amber's common sense supersedes even mine, and if someone shares an anecdote or study that sounds questionable to her, she'll run to her computer to research its veracity. She tells stories with such an understated, wry wit that we can't help but laugh.

And yet it's so different from my relationship with Amy. Amy is quiet and sweet and laughs at just about everything I say, which stokes my ego nicely. Amy will be on her deathbed before she complains about how she feels, and she's got some pretty big health problems. She's a calming influence on everyone and a day brightener. She brought both a piano and a very nice keyboard when she moved in, and she is a wonderful pianist, so our home is filled with even more music than it was before. She will lend you anything yo ask for- she lent me her bike when I did my triathlon in May and treated it like it was the biggest honor I could give her.

Kerstin is our other main musician, practicing her violin for many hours a day. She teaches and plays for events around the valley. She's also my compatriot on Temple Square, since she plays her violin on the Orchestra on Temple Square. She matches Amy in sweetness but it a little more vivacious and talkative- quite possibly our most talkative girl. She was also my gardening buddy this summer, since she was just as excited as I was to pull out the grass and plant the seeds. We spent some great time together on our knees in the dirt last spring. She has a constancy of faith that gives us all support.

Our second violinist is Cassaundra, although her violin gets about as much show time as my flute these days (read: not much). Cass is my fellow outdoors enthusiast, and she far outstrips me in terms of her activity. This girl loves motorcycles, rock climbing, snowshoeing, backpacking, hiking, and camping. She petite and spunky, and gentler than her red hair would suggest, but still with a good bit of snap to her personality. Cass has been my hot tubbing buddy recently as well, when we go down the street to take advantage of the boys' hot tub. She's very sensitive to emotions and relationship problems as one would expect from a girl with her master's in social work, but she's also very good at not wearing her therapist hat outside of work unless asked. But she also loves providing that assistance to friends in the right circumstances. She was an incredibly steadying figure for me last week when a long-overdue torrent of emotions burst out and created a very teary evening.

And there's me. I provide a lot of the leadership in the house- I set up times for us to do spring cleaning, to work on our emergency preparedness, to go out together for a roommate night on the town. I make the girls laugh a lot and provide a nice garden and a messy sewing table in the basement. And every night that we have roommate prayer, when we come in close for a group hug afterward, I look around and think how blessed I am. For the first time since I moved to Salt Lake, I feel like there is complete harmony in my home. Everyone's gift and personalities work together in such a beautiful way. It's safe. It's peaceful. It's a fortress from the world, and I love it.

The pursuit of happiness

2011-09-24T22:39:00.001-06:00

Tonight in the Relief Society session of General Conference, President Uchdorf touched on the topic of being happy now- of finding joy in what is happening in our lives at the moment, and not holding out for one magical event to take us to the land of happily ever after. And as I listened, I realized that by and large, that's not something I have a problem with. I do agree with President Uchdorf's added caution that we deserve to always be working to improve ourselves and reach towards goals, but life is so good. And today was a great example of its goodness.This morning I got up at six in order to hike Deseret Peak with Emily, Trevor, and Trevor's friend Ben. We didn't actually get on the trail until shortly after nine, due to the fact that we left a little late and it was an hour drive from Sugarhouse. But Emily and Trevor and both very fun people to talk to, as Ben proved to be also. The hike was definitely strenuous, but so fun. We marked our pace by keeping far enough ahead of a scout troupe that we couldn't hear them coming up behind us. If they got within earshot (and since these are scouts we're talking about, it was a pretty long earshot), we'd get moving. Fortunately, everyone very kindly put up with my penchant for stopping to take note of the flora and foliage, and I even had Trevor and Emily eating wild currents and elderberries with me. After that, Ben was making jokes about the younger berries, filled with angst, that grow really well next to wild oats. Oh, dear.There was a small, unfortunate incident in which Trevor did a handstand and landed, flat on his back, in a patch of burrs. We then engaged in some social grooming, since wearing a pack with a back full of burrs would be incredibly painful. Of course, while Emily and I were pulling burrs off his shirt, the group of older men that we'd just passed caught up with us. We were quick to assure them that we don't normally engage in social grooming.We summitted at lunchtime, and had a fabulous 360-degree view of Salt Lake, Toelle, and the West Desert. We stood on the peak of a little island of green in a sea of brown, hostile environment, and out to the west, the salt flats were clearly visible. It's amazing what a change in elevation can do for the ecosystem! Also at the summit, we found small snow banks. Ben mysteriously disappeared from view and reappeared a short time later, with some snow, laboriously chipped from the hardened bank, to throw at Trevor. We were impressed by the amount of effort that went into that.On the way down, our main adventure was opting to more or less slide down a ravine rather than go around the longer, and flatter, loop in the trail. I managed to find about every hole in the ground, well concealed with foliage, and once I sneezed so hard I almost knocked myself over backwards. But it was a beautiful little ravine, and that's where we added wild raspberries to our cache of edible snacks along the way.We concluded our journeys with a sing-a-long in the car on the drive back. On our descent, I had been singing songs to myself (note to siblings: there was no dining room table present, so this was legal). Most of the songs were from musicals, which apparently put Trevor in a musical frame of mind, so he and I sang along to Les Mis, Wicked, Mary Poppins, and other great shows as we drove.Then tonight, after the Relief Society broadcast, we had an unusually quiet and comfortable evening at our house. Amy was gone, but the rest of us randomly congregated downstairs, and as Kerstin transcribed her grandma's old journals, Amber cleaned the bathroom, and Cassaundra did a workout, I sat at my sewing machine, working on yet another project, and thought about how nice it was to have everyone home, and all downstairs together. We are such a busy group of girls that our schedules very rarely line up like that, and it felt so domestic and homey that it brought a certain contentment and peace to my soul. It reminded me that I truly do love my life right now, and at the same time, that that feeling is my goal. Hopefully I'll get to experience it more in the not-incredibly-distant future by having my own home with my own family, but my roommates are my adopted family for now, and I love that we love and trust each other enough to feel that kind of kinship and peace in our home. That's a big deal. A lot of people don't get to experience that. So, President Uchtdorf, I agree that the importance of enjoying life where it's at is vital. And I feel incredibly blessed to have such a good one.

Just some musings

2011-09-05T10:29:00.003-06:00

A day off! What a beautiful thing! I just spent a few happy moments weeding my yard and now my hands smell like mint. Mint is such an exuberant plant, it grows all over the place, and it smells so nice. I also ate some cherry tomatoes and observed that my paste tomatoes are coming in nicely, so a batch of tomato sauce might be in the works soon. And I dug up the first of the rainbow mix carrots- orange, red, and white. Gardening is always a learning experience. For example this year I learned what I suspected but failed to act upon- the west side of the house is just a little too shady to provide sufficient light energy for fruit crops. Things like beets, greens, and carrots don't take nearly as much energy as things like watermelon, pumpkins, and cucumbers, because the latter are all reproductive structures. They take a lot of energy to create, and plants get that energy from sunlight. Carrots, on the other hand, are a vegetative crop, meaning it's just a part of the plant and the plant isn't making the carrot to produce seeds. So it takes a lot less energy. So next year, the vines will be going in the sun-filled backyard and the carrots will be going in the more shady west side of the house. But then the tomatoes will be moved, too, because tomatoes drain a lot of nutrients out of the soil, and I'll probably put beans in their place, since beans actually return nutrients to the soil. See? There's so much to it- I love it! I had a dream last night that I was flying to Rwanda but I was completely unprepared. Oddly, the thing I was most concerned about was that I didn't have a guidebook with me. This is pretty standard for me to have strange dreams before big events, but this seems to be a little early- we're just under twelve weeks out from Africa. But things are starting to solidify. I have a traveling companion now- my friend Brian's sister Molly. I have my yellow fever vaccination card. I can't wait to see Grace and her daughter Kelly. I feel like I'm teetering on the edge of a change. I don't know what it is, but something in me is holding back somehow. I'm pretty sure I know the reasons why, but something- something is going to happen soon, and I think it will be good. Life is always good. Life is always a constant adjustment to find the balance that works for a particular moment in time. And life is not linear, as much as we try to make it out to be.

Upgrading the "friend" status

2011-08-09T22:28:00.002-06:00

The following musings have been percolating in my mind in some form or another for quite a long time, but for some reason that I can't fully explain, they have become much more focused recently. Probably just the cycle of life, of events happening around me. But for whatever reason, I find myself pondering the "buddy" situation.
I'm really good at being a buddy, a support system of some kind for a lot of people. This is great. I love the feeling I get from that- of being needed, wanted, of having my assistance and love be desired. It drives a lot of gears behind my magnetic attraction to playing with and spending a lot of time with kids, when I get the chance. It drove a lot of my ability to push through challenging situations at home, knowing that I could provide support for younger siblings and I wouldn't let them down if I could help it. And, I fear that it has directed me to a place where I am a fabulous friend for a lot of men my age. I've observed the trend for a long time- I'm really quite skilled at becoming good friends with guys I am attracted to- and then just staying good friends. Often a few dates will ensue, and then the equilibrium just drops into a comfortable friendship. They are often very open and honest and trusting friendships, very deep and genuine. But something about me or the way I go about things seems to leave me in a position to be "just friends," time and again and again.

I have unwillingly realized this again recently with a couple of my very favorite guys- a kind of "wait a second" moment when I realized that not only am I great friend material- I'm great filler friend material. That is, I'm a great constant to come back to when things don't work out with other women. I am great to fill the time in between relationships.

Now, I don't know how this will come across to readers, but it's not really written in self-deprecation, angst against the portion of the human race with Y chromosomes, or anger against the world. It's more a general pondering. I'm sure that friends of mine who read this might be thinking things like "you can't blame yourself," or, "it's not you, it's them," which is very kind, albeit not useful at all. One thing I've learned as a scientist is to look for trends and constants- and the trend is getting stuck in a friendship rut with guys, and the constant is me. I've pondered what to do about this, and the obvious thing is to eliminate the factors that are holding me in the trend- but that means stopping friendships with guys that I get a lot of enjoyment and enrichment from spending time with. Which then leaves a void, and of course to fill the void I wind up right back where I was. I guess I fill a gap in their lives and they fill a gap in mine as well, and if we were all ten years younger, it would be a great setup.

Of course, the other hang up is I'd much rather date someone whose faults and failings I know, who's a real person and a real friend, someone I already know I can trust and be safe with, than I would someone who sweeps me off my feet in a burst of twitterpation and it's only during the courtship that warts and blemishes start to come up. But most guys don't operate that way in my experience, which includes conversations with guys about this topic.

And of course, added to this are the times when it's hard to care as much as I want to. I'd love to be dating a great guy, but it's so much effort with so little visible response- and there's so much else to fill my time. There's my job and camping and road trips, and planning things for JNF, and choir rehearsal, and, oh yeah, doing activities with my guy friends that are in all kinds of shades of gray with regards to the term "date." It's a good life. And, just as I'd feared, I'm becoming more comfortable in it than I wanted to. So maybe I do need a Prince Charming to come along and save me from the comfortable rut I've gotten in. Maybe. But I'd still rather be his friend first.

Calling me back for more

2011-07-10T22:01:00.002-06:00

All right, one more post. I wasn't sure if I wanted to put this on the blog or not, but it's been in my thoughts a lot lately.
It's been too long since I've been an adventuresome traveler. I travel a fair amount, but it's been over a year since I left the country and that was only for a cruise. I didn't even get a stamp in my passport, which was kind of lame. So now there comes an event which is a long time in planning and is still in planning, let's be honest.

Africa is calling me. It's been calling me for a while. I know I'm not remembering some aspects of it as well as I should, like being asked for handouts all the time and dealing with bugs and humidity and ugali for lunch every day. But smiling faced are calling me back.

I mentioned my friend Grace and her NGO on here a little while ago. I don't have time right now to bulk out the full story, but Grace is amazing and I love her. She's going to University right now to get a degree in community planning, which will really strengthen her skills and abilities to find the right people and set things up the right way to get grant money for orphans and street kids. And I get to help.

I'm definitely going to be doing some sightseeing when I get to Africa (mountain gorillas in Rwanda, anyone?), but the last part of the trip, in Kenya, will be a lot about Grace and James Njuguna Foundation. I promised Grace that I would raise some money for JNF, which is where I'm at now. Waaay out of my comfort zone. Which is so good for me! But I'm beginning to explore options for hosting a 5k, a massive bake sale, or some other thing that would allow me to present Grace with at least 1k when I meet her in Nairobi. Wouldn't that be great? Do you have any ideas or suggestions? Would you be willing to donate to the cause? Every stitch of money that I get will go straight to JNF, even if it means paying bank funds and such out of my own pocket.

Meanwhile, I'm working on getting a blog up and running for JNF where I can share stories of the women and kids that Grace is working with. Add it to your RSS feed! There will be a website soon, too- as soon as I can get it designed. I wrote all the copy from material that Grace gave me and my friend Michael the Chef constructed it- but we are not designers and we are looking for one. Do you know anyone who would be willing to design a fairly small website for a rather small fee? (At this point, it would be coming out of my pocket as well, since our funds are pretty much nonexistent).

But I exhort you all to go read the new blog and learn about the people that I am beginning to work with. The stories are quite amazing. You'll love them. I know I do.

Of gardens, outdoor oases, and other such things

2011-07-10T21:45:00.002-06:00

My garden is growing! Most of it looks beautiful, but there are a few things that will definitely be improved upon next year. Something is eating the leaves right off my beans, although the cucurbits (vine fruit in the cucumber family) are not being eaten very much. Right now it looks like the cucurbits and the tomatoes and the basil are the big winners of the year. They are all healthy and thriving and producing flowers, excepet the basil, which is good. When basil flowers it puts all its energy into making seeds instead of deliciously scented and flavored leaves. I crushed a leaf from my cinnamon basil yesterday and it smelled like cloves. Yum!
Meanwhile, the beets and carrots are coming up in a rather patchy manner, mostly because the seed packages were a few years old and the seed viability was probably falling quickly. The peppers look healthy but the flowers appear to be dying before they can set fruit- I wonder if they want more sun. And I am very excited for my lemon cucumbers, sugar pumpkins, and nine varieties of tomatoes. See, isn't gardening an adventure?

I also finally got my new picnic table set up outside a few weeks ago, the solar-powered garden lights in, and my pots of hostas and bleeding hearts established. And I planted impatiens in Amber's window well, which, fortunately, she thought was funny. It was better than the weedy tree of heaven that was growing up from her window well before I sliced it down and put in the impatiens.

In order to celebrate the backyard oasis, and also because Trevor was bored, he come over on Friday night and we made kebabs on Cassaundra's little gas grill along with my roommates and our friend Jon the Amazing Mechanic. I was very excited for the bacon-wrapped mushrooms, even after they dripped on the grill and started a grease fire that somehow spread to the lid of the grill. Fortunately, Trevor, like many men, is a pyro enthusiast, so between the two of us we got some very tasty and not-too-badly-singed kebabs made. Kerstin, Cassaundra, and Sarah made mangoes and sticky rice for dessert. It was a lovely evening, and it solidified my pleasure in my picnic table purchase. Good friends and good food on a pleasant summer evening is one of the great pleasures in life.

And many things did come to pass

2011-07-10T21:33:00.002-06:00

One unfortunate mark that depression has left on my life is that my desire to write is substantially decreased. I'm not depressed any more, but I used to have words almost flowing out of me, as my journals can attest. I make no claim as to their quality, but I wrote and wrote and wrote- mostly personal reflections and experiences that I didn't want to forget any details for. The year that I started keeping my journal electronically, I had about 70 pages, single spaced, by the end of the year.

I still love the idea of writing a lot, but it doesn't seem to compel me to the point where I have to sit down and pull out y computer. Thus, both my blog and my journal are scantier than they used to be.

This is sad to me. I wish it were not so. I'm starting to work on changing it back to how it was- especially since I know, as a scientist, that record keeping is critical. I also know that as a religionist. And just as a person who likes to remember what she's done and how she's felt at various times in her life. I think my favorite thing about rereading old journal entries is how much I can remember about how I felt at a certain stage of life based purely off of the topics of choice and also word choices. I've gone back and read entries from very hard times and been amazed at the upbeat, optimistic tone that I chose to record my emotions of the time. I've also read a few entries where the sheer pathos I put into baring my soul almost made me feel like I was intruding in a time that ought to be left alone as a sacred period of grief. I've chuckled with myself on rereading accounts of summer days and nights where life just seemed too delightful to be true, I've rolled my eyes with myself at anecdotes of confusing boys acting in ways that are hard to interpret, and I've sighed wistfully, rereading accounts of longing for certain events to come to pass in my life, some of which have been achieved (finally getting my master's, going to Kenya, singing in the choir), and some of which have not (marriage and family, having a well-established NGO, being independently wealthy and traveling the world).

I guess the point is, life is so rich and full of so many emotions and experiences that I really cherish my records. So I'm working on becoming an instinctive writer again.

As part of this, I am writing this post at night, per tradition, although it's not really late enough for me to start with "It's so late! I should be in bed!" (That's how about half of my journal entries start). But to prevent myself from going overkill and writing a huge, long entry, I will now end this ruminative post and start another one with a different topic.

The satisfaction of small things

2011-05-29T22:22:00.002-06:00

I'm rather intrigued. After years of believing that I'm a terrible runner, that the activity is loathsome, and that I would never do it unless I forced myself to, I am discovering that probably my biggest problem was running too fast for my endurance level. Having slowed it down and built it up a little, I went on a jog yesterday morning that I later discovered, thanks to the glories of Google Maps, was a four mile round trip. This leads me to believe that my goal of a half marathon is not far-fetched, maybe even next year.
But that's still in the future. Yesterday's jog was my first outdoor run since the triathlon (thanks to the very wet weather Salt Lake has been having), and it was glorious jogging weather. The kind where I was chilly when I started but a very pleasant temperature when I stopped. I looped up along the Bonneville Shoreline Trail, past the zoo, and ended at my destination, a little grassy knoll called Donner Park that I often drive by but have never explored. Upon arrival, having just jogged on an uphill slant for half a mile, I rewarded myself by allowing myself to walk along the paths in the park. Coming over the hilly part, I discovered a small playground, hidden from the road, that I hadn't known was there. I love playgrounds because of all the fun memories they bring back. I was such a playground kid- and still am, let's be honest. And when one is by oneself at a park, the best activity is without a doubt the swings.
I hadn't been on a swing in several months, so as I passed the swing set, I found myself veering to the right and taking advantage of the vacantness of the area to pump myself towards the sky. I've always loved swings, and there are some swings that have a special place in my heart. I could write a whole post about that (in fact, I wrote half of it before I realized that it was a huge digression from this post and put it in a Word document for safekeeping). Yesterday morning, fresh off of running two miles, it was wonderful to kick my feet up towards the clouds and realize that I really do love living in Salt Lake City. For now, it's the best place for me to be.
Donner Park is situated at an elevation and location to have a view of a lot of the unique things that make Salt Lake City special. Right behind me was Emigration Canyon, passageway into the mountains and all kinds of glories. Fittingly, of course, if I turned my head, I could also see This is the Place Park, which is not quite a living museum, because the staff do dress up in period clothing from the 1850s, but they don't pretend to actually be people from that time.
Ahead of me spread the whole valley, big and open, with the Great Salt Lake, hard to see because of the overcast day, sprawling behind the downtown skyline. To my left, blocked by a bank of trees, lay Kennecott Copper mine, a huge open mine that is fascinating, beautiful, and hideous, all by turns.
And those mountains- those mountains that I love so much. They are truly beautiful things and I love living in them and learning about them and exploring them. As I ended my swinging, I began to get excited for more opportunities to find new trails, new treasures, and new adventures in my mountains.
I jogged home and stretched in the backyard, where I could inspect and observe our newly-planted garden, and gloat over the rows of carefully planted seed and the tender young tomato and pepper plants. Ah yes, I thought to myself. I am a true botany nerd. How many people take this much pleasure from marking not only the growth of their plants but also the development of their anatomical and physiological features? Not nearly enough.
Hm. I find myself rambling again. Must be time for bed. Other fun and exciting things happened on Saturday, including a bridal shower for my sister Laura, a rousing game of six-square with my family, digging in the dirt and finding worms with my one-year-old nephew, mowing the lawn and accidentally jamming the lawn mower with grass, and sewing half of one of the most unique dress patterns I've ever worked with. But the details would take me too long to type out, so I will just leave you, my readers, with the
knowledge that I had a very enjoyable day, filled with the satisfaction of small things.

There's no "try" in "triathalon"

2011-05-22T19:59:00.002-06:00

Yesterday morning, Emily, Melanie, and I congregated with about a thousand other women at the fitness center in American Fork for their women-only sprint triathlon. After all my careful doube0checking, I did remember all the crucial things to have- swimsuit, bike helmet, running shoes- and most of the nonessentials, too. It was a beautiful sunshiney morning, the one sunny day sandwiched in between all the rainy ones. Perfect triathlon weather.
My goal was to complete the race and to complete it without coming to a complete stop at any point in time. And I succeeded. I didn't love it the whole time, but there's enough of a competitive spark in me that even when I was wondering why I wanted to do this, I was still observing the people around me and making sure I kept pace as much as I could.
A few things stand out in my mind as pivotal in this event. First, the sheer triumph of knowing that I have the strength to do something like a sprint triathlon. I remember being in high school and dealing with Candidas (which has symptoms very similar to Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) and having to go home and sleep for long periods of time just to have the energy to get through the remaining school day. Or being a college student and not being able to carry my backpack across campus all the time because of the searing pain behind my ribcage when I wore too much weight.
Yesterday that familiar pain behind my right shoulder blade made an appearance on the run- the final stretch of the race. I was frustrated and annoyed at first, and went from a jog to a walk for a while. But then I realized that the pain hadn't been there for several months, even with the increased activity I've been doing. And then I celebrated- in a sweaty, tired kind of way.
A second thing that made an impact on me was the support of friends and strangers both. No one was at the race to cheer for me- Kerstin was going to come but ended up going to a funeral instead. But she stayed up on Wednesday night and made me a special triathlon support sign for my door, and she texted me on Saturday morning before the race to let me know she was cheering me on. And there were people along the race route who cheered for everyone- some in a rather placid manner, but some with a large dose of ebullience. There were kids who held out their hands on the 5k route to give us five as we ran past. There was one little girl who jumped up and down every time someone ran past calling, "good job! Good job!" And I hope all those people know how much they boosted my spirits along the way. I'm so independent in most of my life that I almost forget just how much I love getting that support and cheering from people. But it always makes a difference.
Lastly, afterward when I was talking energetically with Mel and Em and we made plans to2 do it again, I realized yet again how lucky I've been to find such good friends, who not only have interests like mine but give me opportunities to improve and excel in those interests. We are making plans to go back to Cedar City for some Shakespeare this summer and climb a few mountains and go on a few campouts. And now I am on a new topic- Summer Plans- that could fill a while nother blog post, so I will save that for another day and conclude by saying that I am very glad that I completed my first triathlon and I'm excited to do another one.

Roll round with the year, and never stand still

2011-04-07T22:37:00.002-06:00

Like a lot of things in my life, blogging seems to come and go in cycles. I often will think up little anecdotes and stories that I can't wait to post, but then when there's actually time to do so, which isn't often these days, I've lost the phrasing that made them sound so elegant and articulate, if I can remember what I wanted to write in the first place.
I'm not even sure why I'm making time tonight. By rights I should be in bed. I left for work this morning at a quarter after seven, learned how to culture peripheral blood, quantified DNA, scored cells labeled with fluorescence in situ hybridization, and hybridized microarrays until about 4:20, swam from 4:50 to 5:40, got soaked in the slush storm walking back to my car, went to Temple Square, and sat in the recording studio with my crocheting until class started at 7:25. I got home at 10:00. This is a very standard day for me right now on Tuesdays and Thursdays at least. Going to bed is a luxury. But I felt compelled to write something tonight.
In my swim class, I regularly marvel at the drastic change in ability I've seen in myself. When I began this class at the beginning of February, I swam one length -25m- at a time and stopped to breathe hard after each one. I was pretty proud of the 600m I swam back then. Today I went to class and did four lengths in a row with barely a pause in between. I completed 1300m total. And I wasn't nearly as winded when I was done. I tend to push myself quite hard- Mel swims with a lot more deliberation, really focusing on the technique, where I tend to attack it more head on, like something to be conquered. I'd love to find a place somewhere between our two approaches.
I've noticed a lot lately that the years of dance instruction I took as a child still impact my muscle memory habits regularly, which is interesting to me. By no stretch would I ever have called myself a ballerina, but when I stand in rehearsal to sing, I find myself alternating between mostly third and fifth position, sometimes second. Then I'll realize that I'm standing on one turned-out foot and pointing the toe of the other in front of me, to the side, to the back. Then I'll be doing a very subtle releve and plie (going up on my toes and bending my knees). I was in a running class a few weeks ago and the instructor was having us do backward lunges. He watched my lunges narrowly for a minute and then asked "are you a ballerina? You're going into pointe when you raise your leg in front of you."

The interesting thing to me is that I don't think about any of this. My body just does it because of some training I had well over a decade ago- some of it over two decades ago. It's habit, it's memory built in to me.

I started reading President Monson's biography (on the biking machine, about my only available reading time right now), and one of the main themes woven throughout is how Thomas Monson's whole life has trained him to habitually serve, give, and inspire. He doesn't think about it, he doesn't make calculated plans- he has just been so imbued in a culture of giving and serving, from his childhood on up, that it's a habit. He gets a prompting, and his trained response is "yes. I will go and do." One thing that stood out to me more than any other when I watched his DVD biography (for lack of a better term) was towards the end when he says something to the effect of that when the Lord has an errand to be run, he wants the Lord to know that He can trust Tom Monson to do it. Something about that statement almost brings me to tears even now, just thinking about it.

How would it be to be so trained to respond to the guidance of the Lord that running errands for Him was second nature? That, like my pointed toes, I wouldn't even necessarily realize that I was doing anything out of the normal course? I want to be like President Monson.

Another thing I love about this man is that he, as his friends describe him, is larger than life. He is who he is and he doesn't apologize for it or try to make himself smaller in order to make others feel better about themselves. He just shines, and those who come in his path get shined on and feel better for it. This, in my mind is what real humility is- not false modesty or hiding under a bushel, but truly shining forth and acknowledging the source from whence the light comes. Using the light to reach out to everyone, that all may be edified.

Doesn't that sound great? Let's do it! Let's all be truly humble and shine forth like God intended for us to do! Hooray!

I must be truly tired- I started my rambles talking about my day and swimming, and I'm ending on a much higher plane. This is good. THe goal is always to go higher than I am. With quite a few sidesteps back to lower ground along the way. But always looking up.

A lot of different "me"s

2011-03-09T23:16:00.003-07:00

I am rereading (for the umpteenth time) one of my favorite books- Anne of Green Gables. There is so much in Anne that I feel makes us kindred spirits and I love all the descriptive passages that L.M. Montgomery includes. I feel like she always has little gems of wisdom and truth tucked in the humorous stories of Anne's adventures.

One passage in particular caught my eye the other day- Anne is talking to her friend Diana and says:

"There's such a lot of different Annes in me. I sometimes think that is why I am such a troublesome person. If I were just one Anne it would be ever so much more comfortable, but the it wouldn't be half so interesting."

Like Anne, I feel like there are such a lot of Marias in me. Some of the Marias are not very admirable and are rather selfish, and some of the Marias can just dance and sing for joy that the world exists and there are people in it. I am working constantly to encourage those Marias to grow bigger and stronger. Sometimes the progress comes in great leaps and bounds. Sometimes it feel like it might be going backwards. And such is the joy of life.

When I was a girl, I was extremely haphazardous. I had no self-discipline for anything. I took ballet lessons, gymnastics lessons, played soccer and coach pitch and did swim team and 4-H. My mother taught me to cook and sew and garden and play the piano. And I loved all these things. But I wanted to jump right in and go, proceed without thinking, and I couldn't stand the disciplined work it took to do a job well done. My early sewing projects can attest to this. I remember when I made some delicacy in the kitchen and was amazed at how poorly it turned out because I had no clue that the directions included with the ingredients list were actually meant to be read and followed. I have no idea how many scowls and fits of temper my mother put up with or how many times she told me to slow down a little. It was probably a near-daily occurrence. It reflected in my schoolwork, too. I loved school and learning and reading, but the discipline it took to be a good student was more than I was willing to invest. I was a certified bookworm by the time I was eight, but my mom had to make a rule that when we went to the library I had to get at least one book I'd never read before, because the effort of reading a new book was too great compared to the ease and comfort of a book I knew like an old friend.

This carried over into junior high. I started playing the flute and I remember conversations between my flute teacher and my mother that essentially consisted of Merrilee telling Mom that I could be a very good flutist if I would just take the time to practice, and Mom rolling her eyes in agreement.

Two things initiated the first change from the haphazardous Maria to the more work-oriented Maria. The first began, actually when I started junior high. That's when Mom started showing symptoms of her illness. With so many younger siblings, I'd always played a caretaking role around the house, but now it increased. I got up early a lot of mornings to make breakfast for the family. I felt sorry for myself a lot, until I realized that I was spending more time feeling sorry for myself than I was actually doing anything useful. Then, as Mom's health got worse, I slowly started stepping it up.

The other thing was the change in my own health. I had always prided myself on my good constitution and strong little body. When I was 10 years old, I could do 15 pull ups, a fact that delighted my father. But now in junior high, I developed a very painful condition in my arms called thoracic outlet syndrome. It was two years before the problem was diagnosed and operated on. Those were two long, painful years. But the stubborn Maria decided to face them head-on. Now that it was actually challenging to play the flute, I started practicing with an intensity I'd never had before. Now that I couldn't do much else, I was certainly going to do well in school. One semester in ninth grade, I missed two weeks of school (and would have missed more if my mother had her way) recuperating from two surgeries. Well, I may be missing school but you'd better believe I head-butted that challenge straight on and stayed on the honor role with my grades.

Isn't it interesting that the stubborn Maria actually ended up being a tool for the disciplined Maria to make an appearance? It continues today, to be honest. I chose to be a scientist. I love science, but it's not the most intuitive thing for me to do. When I started working in a lab as an undergrad, my lab book was a mess, for a scientist. I didn't have an eye for the kind of painstaking detail and note taking that is required to excel in this field. As I look back over seven years of mishaps and learning experiences of all kinds, I feel that I've really pulled myself up by the bootstraps in a lot of ways. And that has spilled over into other areas of my life and what I've come to refer to as conscious creating. Every second of every day, I am creating things- usually I am creating moods and feelings and thoughts and words, but sometimes I am creating assays and documents and lab notes at work, or quilts and skirts and gardens and meals at home, or experiences for myself or other people. A lot of what I create is not really intentional. It just happens as life goes by. But when I stop and map out what I intend to create and what my goal is, then I am creating consciously and taking hold of the reins of my life rather than just always allowing life to happen to me.

I feel like that's the most important difference between that Maria that used to dominate my life and the one that I am currently cultivating. This Maria has plans and dreams. She has goals and she knows enough to know that she wants them and is willing to set aside momentary pleasures and desires (often, but not always) to achieve her desired creations. She wants to create a good career, a beautiful singing voice, a healthy body, and a compassionate spirit, all of which involve a good deal of commitment and dedication. And it's not easy, because the Maria who's stubborn and always wants to have fun and get results right now without any effort is still here, putting in her voice and opinions. And another Maria, who is depressed and anxious, also speaks up from time to time and makes the whole vision blurry and seem pointless and hopeless. But these Marias have served to make me stronger in the past, so I trust that they can continue to do so, even though I dislike their presence so much.

So maybe in this life I'll never get to the comfort of having a single Maria inside of me. But maybe I'll continue to learn from the other Marias, since they may not be going anywhere. And as Anne said, that might just make things more interesting.

Blessings

2011-03-05T23:17:00.002-07:00

Today I am grateful for the crisp, cool morning air on my face and the damp soil on my hands while I planted seeds in my yard.
I am grateful for a safe neighborhood with fun houses to go jogging in.
I am grateful for the wonderful people in the Chorale and their love and friendliness.
I am grateful for my sewing machine and for Christina, who worked on sewing together quilt pieces with me.
I am grateful for Matt and Tricia and the great lunch they made.
I am grateful for my fun, adorable nephews.
I am grateful for Angi and her friendship and the opportunities she'll get to have at college next year.
I am grateful for my wonderful grandma in Minnesota and her open, warm, loving nature
I am grateful for goals and lessons and learning and repentance and second chances
I am grateful for my power to choose how I feel and react
I am grateful for Temple Square and the first blooming bulbs.
I am grateful for the Little House books and all the fun relaxation they've given me over the years.
What are you grateful for?

And now the year changes

2011-01-15T19:02:00.003-07:00

I've always had a slightly funny feeling about New Year's resolutions. It strikes me that if there are things that require attention in my life, it shouldn't have to wait until January to do something about. I'm more about starting resolutions when I become aware that something should change and that I have enough energy to give to it. But that aside, when January hits I do start dreaming about what the spring and summer will bring and getting excited.

This year, several things are exciting me about the coming spring and summer. For starts, I signed up to do a mini triathalon with Em and Mel. In preparation for this, all three of us are taking swimming lessons which started today. It felt so good to get back in a pool. It brought back a lot of nostalgia from my childhood.

Also, Emily and I are both moderately fanatical about gardens. This year's garden will be more involved than last year's. New tomato and basil varieties have been ordered, and Em gave me seeds for snap peas, beans, watermelon, lemon cucumbers, and a couple other things. I have visions of turning the backyard patio into a hospitable place for hosting friends- maybe garden lights, Chinese lanterns, seating, and a border of flowers? Too bad that's where the garbage can has to go as well . . .

Also, Michael the Chef and I are involved in a project that may end up consuming a lot of my time in the future, working with Grace on an NGO in Kenya (Grace is James' widow and I'll probably tell her story out in much greater detail in the future). This may involve a trip to Kenya sometime this year, when ticket prices are less than $2,000. At least it costs very little to actually be in Kenya, it's just getting there that's more expensive. But right now it's a lot of research and background work and Michael gets to make the website, since I don't know how to do that.

Also, sometimes it's hard to keep my money from all going into the U of U's continuing education program. Right now the big temptation is mostly gardening classes, although this one also is drawing me in substantially.

Also, what's left of my time is mostly going to the Temple Square Chorale and Choir School. This is the training program for the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Chorale meets on Tuesday nights for the most part and Choir School meets on Thursdays. 100% attendance required. With some of the nicest people I've ever met, both in the choir and on the staff. It's very fun, but also tiring, not getting home until 10 PM. But very fun. I am amazed at how much behind-the-scenes work goes into this choir. I probably shouldn't be surprised, based on the size of the group and the amount of performing they do. We observed a "big choir" rehearsal on Thursday as part of our choir school class. The reason we are required to know a lot of music theory is that this choir has no time to waste on learning notes or rhythms. Rehearsals are for more in-depth concepts like dynamics, tempo, intonation, and emotion. And oh, it's fun.

So, yeah. Good things are ahead. It's a good year. I'm excited. And I hope you are, too.

Just some thoughts

2010-12-13T20:52:00.002-07:00

I am the ward choir director right now. I've only had the calling for the last four months, and most of that time has been spent working on Christmas music- and reworking Christmas music as people join the choir and require a catch-up. It's very frustrating at times, but at other times, it makes my heart soar and sing. After some extra intense rehearsals, we sang at our stake music fireside last night and . . . I can't quite express what happened to me inside. I looked out over the 20+ faces watching me while I conducted and the words surrounded me and supported me and tears came to my eyes. We will sing in church next week . . . and then I will be released from that calling, because the Temple Square Chorale and Choir School begins on January 6th and that will be my full church calling.

I finally concluded my internal battle about singing in church (because sometimes it feels like showing off) and asked my friend Chad to sing "O Holy Night" with me as part of the Christmas program. I'm a first soprano, Chad is a first tenor with a gorgeous voice. We sound quite stunning together, if I do say so myself. And Chad was super enthusiastic when I asked him, because unbeknownst to me, he loves that song so much that he sings it all year round. I think I may be crying a good bit during the Christmas program on Sunday.

A huge perk to leaving work after dark in the winter- at least in December- is that I get one gorgeous Christmas light show on my way home- first I drive past This is the Place Park and Hogle Zoo, both of which put up great light displays, and then through the fancy neighborhood along Wasatch Drive where some people really go all out. It does make my heart happy.

My good friends Sarah and Brian got engaged this weekend. I'm pondering again why I find myself becoming good friends with couples and spending time with them- on the one hand, it's great fun and we're always such good friends that it's not weird, but on the other hand . . . it would be kind of nice to have another guy there.

In related news, my brother Mark also got engaged this weekend. My cute little brother Mark. I love that kid. He's got some of the best people skills I've ever seen, which will be amazing when he's a doctor, after all his school is done. His fiancee, Jill, is a girl who grew up down the street. She performed in many of the neighborhood plays that Becca and I produced during the summers, and I taught her flute lessons for a few years. Come to think of it, I think I babysat her a few times. Although I'm not sure that it counted as real babysitting- we seemed to mostly just play with each other. Of course, that's what I mostly did with the kids I babysat. Anyway, Jill served a mission in Thailand. This is also a plus, because I adore Thailand and so maybe we can plan a trip there and she can be my in resource.

Jill's family is pretty much already part of our family in a way. Her mom, Jeannie, is my mother's guardian angel. Several years ago, Jeannie decided to take it upon herself to start giving assistance to my mom as she started getting sicker and sicker. Now the women from the Relief Society come over every day and visit with Mom, play the piano, get her meals, and get her down for naps. And Jeannie leads out. Laura and Angela refer to her as their other mother. Jeannie is a nurse, and when I had my first surgery in junior high, which was by far the scariest because I had no idea what it was like to have surgery, she came and found my hospital room and brought me a teddy bear with real feather wings to be my guardian angel bear. Oh, we love her at my house. So we don't foresee any in-law problems for Mark and Jill.

Yep, okay. I think I have all the rambling out of my system by now. Except- it's December 13th, T's birthday. His birthday is exactly three months before mine. This makes him my extra-special nephew. Happy birthday, T!

How Can I Keep from Singing?

2010-11-18T21:00:00.003-07:00

It's been a very intense couple of weeks on the vocal front. I went to a vocal workshop last weekend that my teacher hosted and learned a lot of good things about my appearance while I sing. I had a great voice lesson yesterday in preparation for the recital I'll be singing in in two weeks (you should come!).

Tonight, I went down to Temple Square right after work for a vocal assessment. You see, that's the biggest, most intense thing that has happened in the last couple weeks. Two weeks ago today, I got a letter from the Office of the Tabernacle Choir. I had gotten mail from them a few times before in the last few months, but this was the final letter.

I got home from work that day and found it sitting on my pillow, where my roommate Kerstin had placed it. I was suddenly so nervous about opening it- when I got it unfolded, all I saw was the word "Congratulations!" before I was pounding down the stairs, letter clenched in my hand, to share my excitement with Kerstin.

I got accepted to sing in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.

It's still not real. It's a three-step audition process that I've been though, and technically there's one more trial, or probation period, but I'm not worried about that. That last step is being in the Temple Square Chorale, January to May next year, before I actually join the main body of the choir. It's a time to learn all the ropes, make sure I'm up to speed on working with a choir like this, and to show that I will show up, participate, and essentially be a good, dedicated member of the choir.

There are 29 of us- new members of the choir, who will be in the Choir School together. To get a better assessment of my level of singing and skill, tonight I went back to the Tabernacle for a vocal assessment.

My head is spinning a little after that. I don't think I've ever been complimented on my voice so much in my life. It wasn't a test, but Sister Wilberg was filling out a form as she went, indicating things like how my posture was, my vibrato, my straight tone, my ability to sustain my tone while changing dynamics- even things like my facial expression, since this choir is on TV a lot more than your average group (I was marked down as "camera ready." heh.). I got almost perfect marks the whole way down. The only thing Sister Wilberg told me to work on was singing super high notes and sustaining them over long periods of time so I can sing with the "high cadre" in a few years.

I'm feeling pretty good right now.

Every year, the Tabernacle Choir puts audition materials on their website during the month of July. During that time, they are available for download, but they are removed at the end of July for another eleven months. Interested parties then have until the middle of August to fill out the application form and submit it with a picture, a letter of recommendation from their bishop, and a CD with their singing on it. Then it's time to wait.

The first letter came back over Labor Day weekend. It was was a thick one- that was a good sign. I opened it to discover that I had advanced to the next round of auditions- the music theory exam. Now, I minored in music, so I knew a fair amount of music theory, but I didn't want to take any chances and I couldn't tell from the letter just how much theory was required. The Office of the Choir keeps copies of a music theory workbook that they lend out to applicants, so I picked one up and spent about three weeks taking it with me everywhere, fretting that I couldn't seem to perfectly memorize my relative and parallel major and minor keys. I studied key signatures while donating platelets. When we drove out to go skydiving, I brought along the book to study in the car- it didn't really work, though.

The week before General Conference, I went down to Temple Square (I got to park under the Conference Center and tell the man at the gate "I'm here for Tabernacle Choir auditions," to which he promptly gave me an exit token. I felt kind of schnazzy), where I was escorted in a back door of the tabernacle, down into the recording studio in the basement, where I took the music theory test with about fifty other people. (If you want to see a picture, the Tabernacle Choir actually has a picture of us taking that test on their website- it's about halfway down, and I'm just to the left of center in a brown shirt.) The first part of the test was listening skills. When they handed out the written portion of the test, for which I had spent so much time studying, I looked it over and almost started laughing out of sheer relief. This was it? This was a doable test. I could handle this!

They graded those tests fast. When I got back to Salt Lake from Orem after General Conference the following weekend, there was another letter on my bed. "Oh, drat," I thought as soon as I saw it. "This is starting to be important to me."

I was brave and opened the letter. 80 percent was required to pass the test. I did better than that. The letter gave me a scheduled time to go to an in-person audition in the Tabernacle with Mack Wilberg and Ryan Murphy, and three weeks to think about it.

October 27th finally rolled around. I took a long lunch break to get in a voice lesson with Linda. She made me promise to not spend much time practicing that afternoon- a very hard promise for me to make.

I was somewhat surprised by the brevity of the whole experience. I had an interview with Mac Christensen, the president of the choir, which left me walking on air. Then I was escorted back into the recording studio, where Mack Wilberg and Ryan Murphy sat behind a table with all my information in front of them. I sang one verse of a hymn and sightsang five short phrases. Then I left.

I wasn't sure at all how I did, but I figured it was out of my hands anyway. So when that letter showed up, I really wasn't sure if it would tell me "thank you for your time, try again next year," or that happy word I saw first, "Congratulations!"

This will change my life quite substantially, but I think I'm up for it. Hello, my next big adventure. Now I can go back to the bucket list and put a check next to "Sing with a professional choir." I'm using the term "professional" here loosely, since the members are volunteers, but since it's a world-famous choir that has best selling CDs,I think it works. Hold on tight, life is about to change big time!

This is the hardest time I have ever had to think of this

2010-11-12T16:48:00.002-07:00

A while ago, my old roommate Kristel sent us some marriage advice that her first-grade class had given to their teaching aid on the occasion of his marriage. I have laughed myself sick over it a few times and I finally decided that I wanted to share it with my internet audience. Please enjoy.

Take care of her when she gets a baby. And when she is sick you should make her breakfast in bed. And if it’s Mothers Day, you should do something special for your wife. And be nice to the baby when she gets the baby. And be nice to your family. Never be mean to your family. And never be mean to your friends and family. Do nice things like making the bed when she has to make the bed, because my mom always has to make the bed. And never, ever be mean to your class.
(it's pretty clear that some of these are from girls who are all about equality- I'm pretty sure this girl won't grow up to make the bed, at least)

Remember to take your wife out to dinner. When I was supposed to stay in my bed to sleep, my dad got me a baby doll that I really wanted. You should do that if you have a little girl.

Congratulations! Happy Wedding! Hope its good. Give your wife flowers. My dad hugs my mom to show her that he loves her. You should do that. Never spank your wife. Kissing is good. Help your wife go down the steps.

Give the lady a wedding ring. Are you writing what I say? The only thing I know is giving them a ring.
(Hehe. Some of the terminology used makes me happy. Give the lady a wedding ring. I'm so curious about the word choice of "lady.")

I don’t know. I don’t know. Do what you are supposed to do. Wash your car. I don’t know what else.

Well I don’t know. I am not sure I have ever done this... except for my mom…and that’s ‘cause I love her. This is the hardest time I have ever had to think of this. Marriage is hard. You make people feel glad and happy. You never hurt people. My Dad helps my mom, so help people

I love your wife. I think she’s beautiful. Probably you should marry her today at the school. And you should bring her to the school. Please.
(This sounds oddly like something that would happen in a Magic School Bus episode- "The Magic School Bus and the Wedding at the School." Or maybe in a sideways story from Wayside School. I'm pretty sure he did not get married at the school, as much as the first grade girls would have loved that.)

Hmm...be happy about it. You should be friendly to your wife. Always go to work like my Dad. Be kind to her. Hold her hand even though that’s kinda gross.
(A truly chivalrous young man! He feels that hand holding is kinda gross, but he advocates it anyway because girls like that. What a good chap!)

Congratulations! Marriage is fun. And I bet you will be a good husband. How about give your wife flowers until you get married. Then you get kissed.
(Logical flow? Give her flowers leads to getting kissed at the wedding?)

I don’t know yet. Buy her stuff like phones and a ring.
(Yes, this was submitted by a girl. Yes, she probably has a lot of Barbies.)

You should be a good husband. You should be nice. You should comfort her. You should buy her flowers when it’s her birthday. You should let her snuggle you. She will hug you. Let her hug you.
(Another very gallant young man- if she wants to hug you, let her hug you. I like this kid and I don't even know him)

You are my helper. You are nice. You have a girlfriend. You should get married. You should help your girlfriend have a baby. And the baby will grow up and then it will be a big boy or girl. You will read to her or him.
(How do elementary school teachers keep their faces straight? I don't know if I could . . .)

You should bring her to the movies. You should go on dates. My dad sold the boat to show my mom that he loves her. In the summer, before I broke my arm, I went on the tube. Actually, you should buy a boat and go boating with her. You could even go fishing. Tell me how you like the wedding

You are very nice. You should clean up and smile. You should talk to your wife in funny voices. I am glad you like the school. You like reading. You will be a good friend your wife. You will be nice to your children. You will have a great married time. You will look beautiful. Well, one will look pretty and you smile all the time, so you will look happy on your wedding day.
(I really like this one. I want my husband to be a good friend to me. And then I will look pretty and he will smile all the time. Sigh)

When boys love girls, they kiss them, but I’m not allowed to kiss until I am the right age. You should also give hugs. You never fight. Never hurt her. Never marry someone else.
(All very wise and sage, including the bit about not being old enough to kiss.)

You can help your wife when she has a baby. You can help her by helping the doctors push the baby out. You can help her maybe change the baby’s diaper and cook the baby’s food. You can also read books. You can give your wife lots of hugs. And give her kisses. You can play with your wife. You can play games like Go Fish, Hide-N-Seek, and you can also watch movies. You can go on dates to the movies or to the restaurant, and you can go to Lagoon on a date.
(Now I'm having visions of playing Go Fish and Hide-N-Seek with a cute boy [of my own age, not a first grader])

Make a big birthday cake. Dance. Invite people to your backyard. Kiss.
(Recipe for a GREAT reception!)

Take her to a restaurant. Go to the store. Buy her earrings. Buy her a purse. Buy her some make-up. Buy her a new shirt. And a new fuzzy coat. Buy her some pants.
( . . . and then discover that love cannot be bought)

The aid his wife are getting married. He loves her. He likes her. Give her flowers and draw her a big heart. A marrying dress. A song, like the song Kiss the Girl. When the song hits the ice, it sings. When it sings, the flowers all move. And we are married. And the eagles eggs hatch and they all sing a song or something. When the flowers bloom, you will be married. You are a flower, you are going to marry. When the birds sing, you will sing beautiful. When the trees grow, you will grow. When the horses are wild, you are wild. When I smile, you will smile. When I laugh, you will laugh. When children are happy, you are happy. When the butterflies are beautiful, you are beautiful. When bears are cuddly, you are cuddly. I am thinking all about animals and making things beautiful. When penguins slide, you slide. When octopuses are wiggly, you are wiggly. When snakes are slithery, you are slithery. And when a cheetah is running, you are running.
(I'm not certain, but I think this kid might have a future in freeform poetry. Some of this is actually quite striking imagery, and then I get to "When the horses are wild, you are wild," and I think, what on earth?)

Go somewhere fun like Boondocks. Kiss her. Take on a honeymoon. Buy her a house. Be nice to her. Treat her nice. Make her breakfast. Get her jewelry. Help her with work. Never be mean to her. Never divorce. Never do something she doesn’t want you to do. Never sit where she doesn’t want to sit. Like, at the movie theater, let her pick the seat. Have a good honeymoon. And make sure she doesn’t ever divorce you.
(More advocation for chivalry- let her pick the seat. Well spoken.)

He's got me covered

2010-11-07T20:42:00.002-07:00

When I was attending BYU, I took two New Testament courses from Camille Fronk Olsen, one of my favorite teachers. The people, places, and stories of the New Testament came alive in her class and I felt like I learned so much more about the context that the Savior lived in than I had ever known before.

One of my all time-favorite things she taught us was the actual Hebrew word used in the original Old Testament to refer to the atonement. The word was kaphar.

Its most literal translation into English is "a covering."

Kaphar was translated a few different ways into English. One of its translations, in reference to the tabernacle, became the mercy seat.

One of my favorite things about this word and knowing its original definition is that it brings a lot of color to so many phrases, both scriptural and in everyday usage. If I am going to do something that makes me nervous or scared, or so I go out on a limb somehow, I might have someone cover me. If I don't have enough money to pay for something, someone might offer to cover the expense for me.

Interesting, isn't it?

The scriptural phrases are just as interesting. A word search for cover shows some very interesting examples- as well as the difference between the Savior covering my sins and me wanting to do it myself. (Hint: If I try to do it myself, it doesn't work).

This is among the most beautiful imagery that I know. The Savior covers our sins for us because He knows that walking through life with a bunch of sins attached is like walking through life with a self-imposed handicap. A net drag, if you will. It's exhausting and it prevents one from doing all kinds of things- and prevents one from hearing a lot of the subtle direction given along the way about course changes and such. So He offers to cover us, so that we don't have to carry that burden.

I love the atonement. I love the feeling of being covered. I sometimes extend it mentally to include a covering like a warm blanket- a comforter, if you will- that not only covers my sins but also provides protection against a lot of the grit, grime, and winds that are out there. And it is the warmest, nicest comforter out there. Give it a try sometimes. I think you'll like it, too.

Salt and Sand and Pictures

2010-10-22T18:13:00.006-06:00

Bugging has paid off! Trevor and Dave relinquished their photos.

If you enlarge this photo, you can see some of the stars. It was a gorgeous night.

And the next morning, the sunrise was brilliant.

See the cars in the middle of the picture? Yeah. That was us. This was really the middle of nowhere. Nothing around.

Here's a closeup. No heads are visible because it was also pretty cold. I was glad for a blanket to put over my head, since I had no hat.

Sarah and Brian brought the potato gun, and Trevor was thrilled to use it. His first time firing a potato gun. The look on my face in this picture is fairly typical for me when I'm taking to Trevor. He's just one of those people who can bring that look out on my face. And yet, somehow we are still good friends.

Preparing to enter the first mine. I think we took this picture in case we didn't make it out alive.

Disturbingly, but in a cool way, we did encounter something that did *not* make it out of the mine alive

We also came across albino crickets- we didn't think the mine was big enough to have things like albino crickets, but, hey. We thought they were cool.

Cool enough to examine up close. Hello, there, crickets.

Such mountain goats we are- definitely the steepest hike I've ever been on. And yet, I still stop to examine the foliage.

The great view of the salt flats from higher up- what a crazy little corner of the world.

Salt and Sand

2010-10-16T21:11:00.002-06:00

The adventure this week was a camping trip to the west desert of Utah, on the edge of the Bonneville Salt Flats. I don't often head west on I-80, and every time I drive through those salt flats, I am fascinated. It's such a stark, inhospitable place, and yet there's a certain kind of grim majesty about it that makes it so intriguing as well. It's a very unusual kind of desert.

The trip was planned by Trevor, and the idea was to leave Friday night, camp out, and in the morning, go hiking in old mineshafts and caves. I drove out with Sarah and Brian. It was definitely dark by the time we arrived, and the half-moon cast brilliant light over the whole eerie landscape. Wendover was just a few miles away, but the mountains blocked out any light pollution, and we were very isolated from humanity. The outline of the mountains was even more stark by moonlight. The Silver Island Mountains are volcanic mountains, giving them a very twisted and strange outline in a lot of places. It was really rather captivating to look at.

Trevor's idea of a good campout is one that involves lots of scary stories. This is one thing that Trevor and I disagree on significantly. I don't do scary. I don't get the appeal of intentionally giving myself dark, frightened feelings, and I have an imagination that likes to play things up significantly in my mind. So fortunately, Trevor kept things on a moderately un-scary level, since both Sarah and I let it be known that we weren't fans of getting way creeped out.

The night was chilly, but not nearly as frigid as I had been anticipating. However, I was still grateful for the two blankets in my sleeping bag. After snuggling in deep and listening to Trevor and his friend Dave try to take good pictures of the moon without a tripod for the camera, I once again partook in the glories of the night sky, crammed deep with stars. It bothers me that I live in a world where people gear themselves to be so busy that we don't drink in the amazingness that is everywhere. Like in the sky every night. We counted half a dozen shooting stars in fifteen minutes, and then the next thing I knew, I was waking myself up about half an hour later because I wanted to see the sky.

The next morning, with the stars invisible due to that closest star, the sun, the focus shifted to the amazingness of things much closer at hand. Sarah teaches middle school science, and we had a few discussions about geology because of all the amazing rock formations and types. There were beautiful sparkly rocks and solemn creamy rocks and beautifully striated rocks with alternating orange and black stripes, and zebra rocks with wonderful black and white patterns and I actually picked some up and brought them home, which I haven't done in years.

There were also a few species of very hardy plants that grew bravely in the incredibly harsh environment of the west desert. There is no sagebrush on the salt flats. Sagebrush isn't designed to handle the excessive levels of salt in the soil. We saw a few chenopods, some creosote bushes, a few hardy kinds of grass, Ephedra, and an amazing plant that looked like some strange mega-moss growing down the barren sides of the cliffs until I investigated closer and realized that it was definitely not moss, due to its root system. Amazing. The sheer tenacity and willpower of these organisms to survive by sending their roots down into the solid rock with excruciating slowness is remarkable.

AS you may recall, the main object of the day was to go mining and caving. We did our best, and Trevor recruited his GPS, but we weren't overly successful. We found one mine shaft very easily that only went back about 40 feet. We searched for another and found a dead-end alcove. Then, because Trevor and Dave operate this way, we were scrambling up huge piles of loose alluvium in search of more caves. This is when I got up close and personal with the rocks, as there were places that I did resort to crawling on all fours- not just using my hands for support, mind you- to get up the loose stone. We found another shaft with neat turnoffs that also didn't go very far, and we ate our lunch way up on the mountain and looked out over the salt flats. We looked at the ancient water line indicating where Lake Bonneville used to shore, and thought how strange it was that this place used to be a fertile lakebed.

Another week, another adventure. So much to do and see and ponder.

Magic of a Late Summer's Eve

2010-09-28T20:50:00.003-06:00

It's quiet in the house. Amber is downstairs studying, Cassaundra and Kerstin went to Institute, and Jamie left with Sarah for a birthday party. I could have gone, but quiet nights at the house where I am free to do whatever I like are a rarity anymore, and I'm rather enjoying sitting at the kitchen table with the back door open, feeling the pleasant night air, listening to the crickets chirp, and just breathing in that indescribable aura that accompanies summer nights, especially when they're smudging the border of autumn.

I chose to bake tonight. My parents have a Red Delicious apple tree in their backyard that produces very well and invariably ends up laden with worm-filled apples. However, by happy circumstance, I discovered a few years ago that the worm holes can be cut around, and the remnant pieces of apple are the juiciest, most flavor-filled pieces of fruit I've ever consumed. If I made cider, they would be perfect cider apples. But since I do not make cider, I began using them to make apple bread.

It's like zucchini bread, but with apples. After rubbing my thumb raw on the grater, the apples got grated appropriately and incorporated into the batter, and the kitchen smells like baked apples, and I am in heaven. I haven't made apple bread since I was in college, and memories are coming back of wonderful times and experiences. And I sit here on the edge of the city, listening to the cars drive by on the busy road not too far away, but knowing that less than a mile away is the wilderness of the mountains, where the leaves turn copper and red and dripping gold.

The seasons are turning. It's subtle still, summer is putting up a good fight. The days are still warm, but after a summer of warm nights with no air conditioning, I am finally rediscovering the use of my blankets. The tomato plants are recognizing the turn in the air, and showing telltale signs of growing old. Some days after work, rather than driving straight home I find myself going up the canyon in a very roundabout loop just to take in the amazingness of a mountainside in the autumn.

It's the kind of night that calls for laying outside, watching the stars, and pondering. It speaks of bonfires, good friends, and songs. I'm glad that I get to be here, enjoying it by taking in its stillness- which can only be taken in when I am still. It's no wonder to me that at times, God commands us to be still. Some things can only be taken in through stillness. And they are things that do not translate well into words.

Happily Ever After

2010-09-26T22:49:00.001-06:00

I got to teach the Relief Society lesson for yesterday, and I was was super excited to do it. I love teaching a lot. This is why I hope that at some point in my life I am a professor teaching botany and genetics courses someplace, with an office laden with all sorts of interesting books.

But I digress. It turns out the lesson was to be based on the talk that President Uchtdorf gave at the Young Women's Session of General Conference in April, entitled "Your Happily Ever After". I was intrigued that a member of the First Presidency of the Church was basing his talk off of fairy tales. Then I read deeper and realized what he was saying, and realized that it was amazing.

Once upon a time, I lived with my Father, God, the King of the eternities. As His daughter, I was a princess, privileged in every way. The He told me that He had prepared a way for me to seek my fortune, as it were. He told me that this adventure would hold great joy and unbelievable sorrow, that I would learn amazing new skills and discover talents and abilities that I had not been aware of before. He told me that I would face challenges, both from without and from within. There would be mountains to climb and valleys to cross and heartache to endure, but that it was the only way for me to become the queen that I was destined to become.

So I agreed. He promised to send me with tools and weapons, and to place people in my life who would show me how to use them, but that it would be completely up to me whether or not I actually did use them. He promised me that every time I wrote Him a letter home, He would reply promptly, but that His messages would not be brought in with fanfare and pomp. They would be quiet, subtle messages, and I would get to learn how to recognize them. They would often contain advice or directions on how I could grow the most, achieve the most, and serve the most, and the more I heeded His letters to me, the more He would send.

He promised me that if I did this, and listened to His guidance and followed His path, that I would return home to Him at the end of my adventure, and I would, indeed, live happily ever after- literally. For ever.

Isn't that great? It is by far the best fairy tale I've ever heard, and it's my life. There are no fairy godmothers in this one, but guardian angels and the power of faith, hope and charity, powered by the greatest miracle of all, the atonement of Jesus Christ. There are no magic wands that are waved to create a carriage from a pumpkin or glass slippers for my feet, but rather a spark of divine power inside of me, giving me the ability to create my own story, whether I choose to create joy and determination and friendship or anger and bitterness and selfishness. I choose whether I create my future as a queen or as a wicked stepmother, as it were.

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Maria, who was blessed with many friends, a great job, wonderful talents, an amazing family, the gospel of Jesus Christ, and the whole beautiful world. And she was a princess. Every day, her Father the King would send her messages that brought her happiness and guidance. Her life was blessed.

But, President Uchtdorf points out that the main focus of every fairy tale is the adversity that the hero or heroine must go through before they can achieve their happily ever after, the heartache, the disappointment, the unkind and cruel actions of others. It is only by conquering some great challenge that the princess can truly claim her privileges as a queen, by proving that she is worthy and able. Princess Maria is no exception to this. While the beautiful princess has a multitude of blessings in her life, she has experienced hard physical illnesses, lost friends, death of loved ones, illness of loved ones, and challenging relationships. And despite her great beauty, dexterous talents, and capable nature, the princess finds herself still searching for her prince- perhaps he is the one who fell under the hundred years' sleep this time around?

But even with these challenges in her fairy tale, Princess Maria is amazed at the way the hand of God is present in her life. This is why she keeps a journal- to chronicle the miracles that take place. Who wouldn't
want to record and remember such a great adventure?

One amazing thing that has happened to me over the past year or so is a deeply increased awareness that every day and every experience is a gift. There is something I get to learn from every experience I find myself in. I either get to learn how to change the situation, or how to change my attitude towards the situation, or change my choices so I don't wind up in such a situation again. I do not at all profess to be an expert at living this way, but I do profess to know that it is true, and it brings a lot more enjoyment to life. My fairy tale.

Entertainment of the day

2010-09-24T17:37:00.002-06:00

This is what can result when I talk to the right people in the lab.

J: how was lunch today?

Me: it was great. We had a very enlightening conversation about freezers.

J: How enlightening was it? On a scale of 1 to 7?

Me: about a 4. Brian and I are both thinking about buying chest freezers.

J: Frost-free?

Me: We didn’t get that far. That’s why it was only a 4.

J: They don’t cost very much money. You can get them for a buck eighty- uh, a hundred and eighty dollars at Sam’s Club.

Me: Yeah, I’m going to do some shopping around

J: Of course, you can get them for free on KSL. They have their whole free section. There was one for free on there a little while ago. But it didn’t work.

Me: Yeah, I’m willing to pay for the quality that I want.

J: Sam’s Club. One eighty. Just little things. They would work for you. You’re not a big person, so you wouldn’t need a big freezer.

Me: Uh, so you pair people up with freezers according to size?

J: Yeash. Freezers and fridges. And closet space, but for a different reason.

Me: Why is that?

J: Well, fridges is because of consumption. But closet space is because of sheer cubic volume of fabric.

Me: Okay, so you’re not assuming that larger people have more clothing.

J: Nope, it’s just the volume of the individual articles.

Me: Like if all your clothes were like your fat pants.

J: (gets a dreamy look on his face) yeah. Like my fat pants. I love those things. I feel so swift in them.

Me: What?

J: I can take twelve steps in them without touching the fabric. I feel so fast.

Me: Uh, right

J: I should wear them again. You don’t think they’re actually a skort, do you?

Me: What?

J: I’d be concerned if I was wearing skort. Emily wears them sometimes.

Me: Um, I’m not an expert, but I’m picturing your fat pants just like fat . . . pants. Like oversized. Not like a skort.

J: Okay, good. I’m not very fashion savvy sometimes.

Me: I can picture you wearing oversized pants. I have a really hard time visualizing you wearing a skort.

J: Yes. Please do not visualize me wearing a skort.

Me: (laughing while I pick up my binder)

J: Are you going to write that down? It might be important.

Me: “Do not visualize J wearing a skort?”

J: And underline it. Twice.

Me: Yeah, I think we’ll both be happier if I don’t visualize you in a skort.

Josh: Yes. Underline it. Twice.

Random notes of the week

2010-09-17T16:00:00.002-06:00

A while ago, I did quite a few research odds and ends for Dr. S at work, and some of my results were particularly pleasing to her. She half-jokingly told me that she would take me to lunch as a way of saying thanks. The very same day, Em also assisted Dr. S, so she told us she would take us both out for pizza. We weren't quite sure if she was kidding or not, but we somehow managed to extract from her, very delicately, that she was quite serious. There was rejoicing. Then, of course, a few weeks passed, during which time the pizza was periodically mentioned so we knew it hadn't died. And then, through some diplomacy, I set this past Monday, my half birthday, as the day.

And consequently, I have now been to Rocky Mountain Pizza Company, which I had been wanting to do for a while, and I am happy to report that my experience there, at least, was delicious and fun. Dr. S is from India and she told us a little bit about where she used to live and quite sincerely took me up on my half-joking suggestion that when I go to India someday, I'll get the scoop from her on where to go and what to see.

Then, on Wednesday, we had a special inservice at work. We're in the middle of an activity (for lack of a better word) sponsored by the wellness center to encourage people to eat more fruits and veggies (eat at least 100 servings in 20 days and get a free ticket to a corn maze- where you'll find even *more* veggies! Heaven!), and to coincide with that, they brought in a bonafide chef to give us a lecture on proper eating. I was actually surprised at how much I learned. One thing she talked about was how the coating on nonstick pans is not designed to be used on settings any higher than medium heat, and when heated higher than this, they can sublimate and cause nasty reactions in people and even- brace yourselves- kill pet birds.

At this point, I almost cracked up, because I suddenly recalled a blog post by my friend Gabe from almost a year ago that, upon rereading, cracked me up all over again. Those poor birds.

Between that inservice and my friend Michael the Chef's dictations on good cookware and other things I've been reading lately, I think that as I continue to accumulate my own cooking tools, I'm not going to be able to get away with passable quality. I am being indoctrinated into the school of high-quality cookware, which probably means I will take longer to get a full kitchen complement, which is just as well, since my kitchen is currently full of cookware that is not mine. In fact, and Michael will laugh at this, I have recently bought a couple of things I'm excited about and am now keeping them in my room for the dual reasoning that there's not lots of room in the kitchen and I don't want them to get tossed around like the cheaper supplies that are already there.

Speaking of which, I'm pretty sure we have incurred a curse on our glasses somehow. There have been several breakages, especially since our dishwasher decided to quit working. Two weeks ago, I got to fish a piece of glass out of Kerstin's foot with some tweezers because the glasses just keep breaking. Somebody used to own a set of goblets and now I think there are three. I knocked one off the counter with my elbow just the other night where it was sitting next to the dish rack to dry. It has strengthened my resolve that I'm never going to use glass goblets for everyday use in my own house. Yeesh!

The Bucket List

2010-09-13T22:11:00.002-06:00

When I was in Kenya two years ago, I started a list in the back of my journal of things I wanted to do or accomplish during my life, what some people have affectionately begun to call a bucket list. Originally I had in mind to have 100 special goals on the list, but I'm still only up to 55. They vary in complexity, expense, and how easy they will be to complete- reading the complete works of Shakespeare is time consuming, but not as involved as spending at least a day in each of the 50 states. Some of them are very involved but I've made good headway on them. Visiting every continent is a big goal, but I'm over halfway done with it. As for seeing the east and west coast of every ocean- I've achieved that for all of them except the Arctic, and I'm figuring out what the east and west coasts of the Arctic ocean really involve. Maybe I'll end up going to northern Alaska and Northern Norway. Both of those would also assist me with my goal of seeing the Northern lights at least once.

But, like I said, I've still only gotten up to 55 items on the list, and that's only after I pulled it back out this weekend and added a few more to it. One of them, whether or not this is cheating, I added right after I'd done it. It wasn't really something I'd dreamed of doing, but I'm really glad I did it.

This addition to the bucket list, which some might think would put the kicking the bucket part into the bucket list, was skydiving. I have some very active friends in Salt Lake, and some of them decided recently that they were going. TO be honest, I mostly just felt like it would be some kind of admission of defeat to turn down the opportunity. I knew that I would always wonder what it would have been like- so I signed up, and this last Saturday morning found me driving out to nowhereland- I mean, Toelle- suiting up in a harness, and getting on a very small plane.

I'll be completely honest- I was so nervous that I didn't think about it all week because I knew my mind would just work itself in circles. But somehow, once I was there and on the tiny plane and soaring up in the air, my logical brain just couldn't figure out waht I was doing and shut off. I wasn't nervous at all- just fascinated.

There were seven of us, so Heather, Cassaundra, Jared, and Trevor jumped first on the first plane, and then Costley, Amy, and I went up second with another girl.

I was jumping last, so I got to watch Costley and Amy and the other girl on the plane with us hurtle out into space. That was pretty surreal, to watch them fall away from the plane. Then it was my turn. My jump partner, Brian, had secured our harnesses together, and he guided me to the door of the plane, where I put my toes over the edge, and before I really had time to register where I was, we were out, falling through the air at over 100 miles per hour.

I would have screamed out of pure instinct, but I couldn’t get the breath to do it. We fell face up horizontally for a bit; I remember seeing the plane in the air above me, and then we rotated, and I was staring at the earth, so far down- so far away. It was so bizarre to think that I was plummeting towards it, so fast that my lips were flapping in the wind, but I was so high up that it didn’t look like we were getting any closer. One thing they instructed us to do was to breathe through our teeth, or getting a breath of air would be like drinking through a fire hydrant. That was pretty accurate.

We were in freefall for about a minute before Brian pulled the dragline and then the chute. I got a bit of a jolt with that, which might have been the worst sensation I experienced. There was no feeling like I’d lost my stomach or anything at any point. Then we were just hanging in midair under a parachute, up so, so high, and falling gradually downwards. Brian used the steering lines to do some spins, which were fine at first but then made me feel nauseated. I did keep feeling kind of ill after that, which was a bummer, but it was still an amazing experience. I was surprised at how much control those steering lines gave us. It was especially useful when we got near the ground and Brian was able to get us right over the landing field by pulling left and right. The landing itself was incredibly smooth, too. Brian told me to keep my feet up so his touched the ground first- if mine touched first, we would end up landing on my face. So I pulled my feet way up high, and touching down ended up to be a very gentle, safe experience.

When I got home, I remembered my bucket list. I hadn't looked at it or thought about it for over a year, but I felt completely justified in pulling it back out and added "go skydiving" to the list, with a big check next to it. Then I kept it out and looked at it and mulled it over for a while. I was surprised to see that I had achieved one or two things on there without even consciously remembering the bucket list. There are a couple other things on there that are being set in motion right now. I added a few things to it as well, some silly, some serious. Life is so amazing. I went to see "The Lion King" with Laura this last week, and the lines from "The Circle of Life" keep playing through my head: "From the day we arrive on this planet and blinking, step into the sun- there's more to see than can ever be seen, more to do than can ever be done." Sometimes I feel like I don't want to sleep because there's so much to experience and do and live for- and I don't want to miss it. Life is my great adventure, no matter what it brings- joy and sorrow, ease or challenges, quiet night laying in the backyard and looking at the stars or falling from the sky with a parachute on my back. I don't find it hard to believe that I sang for joy with the morning stars when I knew I got to come to earth.

Sandstone, Temples, and Shooting Stars

2010-09-04T22:31:00.002-06:00

This week's adventure took me to Southern Utah again, but this time it was the southeast corner instead of the southwest. You see, at the beginning of the year I decided to attend every temple in Utah during 2010. One nice thing about living in Salt Lake is that there are seven temples within an hour's drive of where I live (where else in the world can that be said?) and I have attended six of those. However, the remaining six pose potential challenges, being a bit more of a drive. However, they are still manageable, and with a little planning, can easily all be attended by the end of the year.

Today, I made it to the temple which had the place on my list as the hardest one to reach. The Monticello temple is about a five hour drive from where I live, through the barren stretches of Central and Southern Utah, past Price and Helper and Moab. The original plan was to get together a group to go down for the weekend and spend the rest of the time in the Mesa Verde/Four Corners region, but plans got revamped, and my roommate Cassaundra, our friend Amy, and I set off on Friday early afternoon to spend the evening in Arches National Park, the night at a KOA campground in Moab, and this morning in the Monticello temple.

Which is what we did. We listened to Cassaundra's book on CD of Pride and Prejudice on the way down, and I solidified my opinion that Pride and Prejudice is much less a romance novel than it is a social commentary both on social structure and the absurd personalities that Jane Austen herself most likely encountered in society. I think I've had my fill of that story for a while now, though, after listening to it this weekend and watching a theatrical production last weekend . . .

We arrived safely in Moab right around supper time but as none of us were very hungry, we drove straight into Arches to enjoy it while the daylight held.

After fully exhausting the daylight, we drove through Moab to the KOA where we spent the night. We started unpacking the car, but before the tent went up, I realized just how brilliant the stars were and put in a bid for using them as our canopy. I wasn't as tired as I initially thought, so I lay on the ground with my eyes wide open for the better part of an hour, marveling at how even the dark parts of the sky seemed to hint at some twinkle of light and counting shooting stars.

In the morning, we got up, packed the car, took advantage of the showers, realized how out-of-place we felt wearing nice skirts at a campground, and drove south another hour to Monticello. This is the first true mini temple I've done a session in and I was surprised at just how small it was. We got there at about 9:20 for the 10:00 session, and the dressing room was completely empty. So we got changed and sat in the tiny bride's room talking quietly for about fifteen minutes until a temple worker appeared.

It was a good experience. The drive back was peaceful, and while I enjoyed the incredible scenery along the way, I am very glad that I don't live in dry, dry red rock country. A visit is sufficient for me.

X marks the chromosome

2010-09-04T17:59:00.000-06:00

Some days at work I’m in the lab all day. Some days I’m at the computer. Today was a computer day and my fingers were getting a little lazy. I was typing up a lot of documentation on a gene found on the X chromosome, and both the words “X” and “chromosome” were being typed a lot, and also the word “XIST,” which is the name of the gene. Suddenly, I realized that I had been typing this gem: “xhromosome.”

I rather like it. Could it be used as a way to abbreviate the term for “X chromosome?”

Sacred goals and eternal consequences

2010-08-30T22:48:00.002-06:00

A week and a half ago, I went stargazing with McKay and a few other people. McKay is notable because he's the astronomer, and he just got a new high-power laser specially designed for stargazing. The moon was a little bright to really have an amazing view of the sky, but that was just as well, since Spencer and I spent most of the time peppering McKay with astronomy questions. I learned a lot of interesting stuff. I generally study science on the micro scale of things, not the macro.

As always happens, I was strongly hit by the fact that what I was actually viewing was an image of what the stars looked like millions of years ago. Sitting up in the foothills and staring up at those points of light, I felt surrounded by eternity and just how eternal some things are, even when they happened long ago.

The next morning as I cleaned the railings in the living room, I talked to Kerstin about my experience the previous night and we discussed just what an interesting feeling it is when it really hits me deep that I'm gazing into the past when I stare at the night sky. Then we went on to discuss how, just like the stars, so many things in the past are always affecting us. Even my experience stargazing came forward in time with me to affect Kerstin's life, the result of which was the conversation we had. We talked about how our choices and actions often shine forward through time in unexpected ways, and may have unanticipated repercussions through a long chain of time.

It was in a similar vein to one of the philosophies I've been building lately for myself. In church one Sunday a few months ago, I picked up the phrase "sacred goal" from a hymn in Sacrament Meeting and the expression "eternal consequences" from the Relief Society lesson. I liked them both and started mulling them over and over in my mind. Then it occured to me that the gospel is really nothing more than a set of sacred goals that we all set before we arrived on this earth and the eternal consequences that achieving- or not achieving- each one of them will have, both on me and on those I interact with directly and indirectly.

The scriptures are loaded with sacred goals and their eternal consequences. The Beatitudes, for example, are a listing of goals and then straight up pair the consequence of striving for that goal with them. Blessed are the meek- there is the goal. For they shall inherit the earth- the consequence of being meek. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God. That's a pretty good consequence right there, I'd say. Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled. Isn't it delightful? We are given set goals and told straight up what the consequences of reaching for them will be. I also love doing this in my patriarchal blessing, a special, personal document that members of my church are given when they feel that the time is right. They are full of personal guidance and direction, and, as I've discovered, sacred goals for me specifically to reach for, and the eternal consequences that will be mine if I obtain the goals. I love it. If you have a patriarchal blessing, read it from that perspective sometime.

Goal setting has always appealed to me, but never more so than when I apply it to the overarching course of my life and focus on sacred goals. These are the goals that work towards softening my heart, opening my eyes, and bringing me nearer to God. And the closer I am to Him, the easier it is to hear the specific guidance He gives me. Sometimes the goals He gives me are small and I am not sure what their purpose is right away. This is why I love this scripture that I just really read for the first time with comprehension last week-

D&C 123:15 Let no man count them as small things; for there is much which lieth in futurity, pertaining to the saints, which depends upon these things.

In other words, when the Lord commands and it seems like a small or tiresome thing, be careful. I never know when what I am doing now will shine forward into the future and affect my preparation for future experiences. Just like those stars, shining millions of years ago, had no idea that the light they emitted at that particular time would be used, millions of years later, for travelers to navigate across deserts and oceans.

All that glitters is not gold

2010-08-29T21:27:00.007-06:00

I am coming to the conclusion of a most excellent weekend. I got it in my head a while back that I wanted to go to the Shakespearean Festival in Cedar City this summer. That was the easy part. The hard part is finding people who want to go with me- and will actually follow through when they say they want to. Has anyone else noticed that this is a problem with our generation? It drives me nuts sometimes.

But that's a tangent. In this case, I was most fortunate to be favored by the good company of Emily, Alice, Melanie, and Mel's sister Maggie, and we had a most delightful time.

The plays themselves were excellent, but so was just about everything else about the trip. We saw stage version of Pride and Prejudice, Hitchcock's The 39 Steps redone as a comedy with only four actors (most of whom played multiple, multiple parts), Much Ado About Nothing, and The Merchant of Venice.

I quite liked the Mr. Darcy they had in Pride and Prejudice, although it took me a while to figure out the play was staged to bring out the comedic aspect of the book. Trevor asked me why the drums after all the jokes hadn't given it away. Silly Trevor. In any case, I liked it better than the new version of Pride and Prejudice with Keira Knightly, and thought they condensed it into a play pretty well.

I wish I had words to describe the production of The 39 Steps. Em summed it up as "creative and random" and I must agree. The actors did an amazing job and the play was packed with random references to other murder mysteries and a lot of other Hitchcock movies that had me in stitches most of the time. Ask me in person sometime and I might be able to describe some of it to you.

Much Ado About Nothing was pretty well done, but I must confess that the Kenneth Branaugh version of that play has kind of spoiled me for anything else. I did like the Hero and Claudio in this stage version better though- I always felt like the Claudio in Branaugh's version was kind of a wuss.

I had never seen a production of The Merchant of Venice, which was a big part of why I was willing to stay and see it on Saturday night, driving home pretty late. (Okay, really late. I went to bed at 3 AM last night). I am so glad that I did. It was quite spectaular. It was the only play I gave a standing ovation for- I am of the dying persuasion that standing ovations should be earned and not handed out like pretzels. The actors portraying Shylock and Antonio were exceptional, and the scene with Portia's would-be suitors the princes of Morocco and Aragon were beautifully and humorously executed. And even though I knew what was going to happen, the courtroom scene with Portia stepping in at the last minute to save Antonio was very gripping. Worth the late drive home.

Other than the theatricals, there were plenty of other things to keep us occupied. We admired, although we did not purchase, the masks in the gift shop:

This is what we look like without the masks, minus Mel, who took the picture:

While Emily and I chose to laugh heartily at The 39 Steps, Mel, Maggie, and Alice chose to spend Friday evening involved in heavy tragedy watching Macbeth. We parted paths and Em and I entertained ourselves with all the enjoyable things there were to be seen in the other gift shop:

We concluded that we shall have to have a girls' night in order to make masks, wreaths, and other girly things.

Here is the Green Show. I liked the Celtic music so much that I wanted to get up on the stage and dance with the SUU students. I also concluded that it wouldn't be *that* hard to make an outfit like the girls are wearing and prance around in it on Halloween. Maybe I'll see if there are any community classes on Celtic dancing.

After a good night's sleep at the local KOA campground, we packed up the car:

And took off to do some driving around the gorgeous Cedar Breaks area.

Since there were wildflowers, I was required (by myself) to identify them.

On the way up to Cedar Breaks, we passed lots of sheep and a sink hole. I didn't want to take any chances:

This is the sign at the trailhead for the main lookout. Don't go sliding down the side of the mountain! Could be bad.

Of course, the wind was strong enough that Alice was afraid to stand up lest she be blow off the edge.

But all things considered, it was quite an amazing view and well worth the trip.

We went to dinner at a bright pink stucco building advertising itself as La Fiesta Mexican Restaurant. Aside from the bright pink decor, we got our first taste of the ambiance in the parking lot whit this:

It just got better inside. There were all kinds of entertaining murals, including this one, located near our table.

Yes. That is a monkey waiter wearing a speedo. This place has character. Here is a piece of the mural across the hall from the restroom:

The sundial watch is a nice touch. And finally, one of many entertaining signs:

Um, yeah. We didn't stick around for it.

On the way back to Salt Lake after The Merchant of Venice that night, I read "Howl's Moving Castle" out loud by flashlight so Mel could stay awake while driving. It added a very nice road trippy feeling to the evening and made the time go much faster. Now it is time to go catch up on the sleep that I did not full get last night. Hooray! I love adventures.

A Small Gratitude

2010-08-23T23:09:00.000-06:00

I've done some pondering this weekend on the way life often goes. You see, my grandmother had a heart attack. That alone would be enough to incur pondering on life, but it was the events that led up to the heart attack that really are stirring up the meditation.

I should start by saying that as far as I know, Grandma is okay. She did have massive surgery yesterday (quintuple bypass, I was told), but I haven't heard anything since then, which I am taking to mean everything is going as expected for a recovery
Now that that is established, my story begins a week ago from Saturday. It was a lovely day and I was up at a decent hour and grocery shopping for our family trip to Bear Lake. I was quite pleased with the prospect of a Saturday with no plans, since that doesn't happen very often. In fact, the pleasure of having a day to myself and anticipation for the coming trip were creating such a feeling of exuberance within me that somehow after the groceries were all put away, I found myself elbow-deep in grime in the kitchen, attacking the splashboards and the oven in an attempt to remove a few years' worth of junk.

Sometime during this auspicious situation, my phone rang and I was surprised to see Grandma's name pop up on the screen. Grandma loves to talk, but she's never called me to just chat.

This was no exception. It became clear within two seconds that this was no social call. Grandma was very agitated and calling for . . . comfort? Advice? Reassurance? Maybe all of the above. It turned out that she had left Idaho Falls that morning to fly to Kentucky, via Salt Lake. My cousin Nathan was getting married in Kentucky a week later (so that would be day before yesterday now- congratulations, Nathan!) and she was flying out to assist and to be there for the wedding. However, she had gotten a call from her sister Shirley that morning as she had left the house to say that Shirley's husband had just passed away. Shirley lives in Vernal, where Grandma grew up. Now Grandma was at the Salt Lake airport on a layover and didn't know if she should continue on to Kentucky or change her flight plans and go to Vernal for a few days to be with her sister. She had called all of her children to get their advice, and gotten conflicting opinions. Then it occurred to her that I live in Salt Lake, so if she did end up going to Vernal on the bus, she could stay with me until the bus left. So she gave me a call.

I could tell under the conflicted surface that her heart really wanted to be in Vernal, and I suggested as much. After I said that out loud, it didn't take long before she agreed that she would change her flight plans and then step out of the airport for me to come pick her up. Which I did, in my grimy clothes.

Grandma ended up sitting at my table for most of the afternoon making phone calls to make a bus reservation, contact the appropriate people to let them know what she was doing (including all six of her children, I believe), and writing everything out so she could remember it all. After I changed my clothes, we met up with Uncle Gordon for dinner and a lovely stroll through Red Butte Gardens, which is quickly becoming one of my favorite places in Salt Lake. And as we meandered around the gardens at sunset and felt the cooling desert air amidst all those glorious plants, I was glad that I got to be an angel for my grandma that day.

I was still glad when I dropped her off at the bus depot the next day only to discover that she had been given the wrong time for the bus to Vernal and we would be required to get up at about 5:15 the next morning (Monday) to get her on the next bus out. I was even glad when I got up before the crack of dawn and drove to the bus depot again.

However, I was even more grateful when Friday rolled around and I received the slightly sobering news. Grandma made it to Vernal just fine and from there to Kentucky. It wasn't until after she arrived in Kentucky that she had the heart attack, requiring quintuple bypass surgery and a multi-week stay in Kentucky before she's strong enough to come back out to the west. She is doing well and has an excellent prognosis. However, the likelihood of her making it out to Vernal to see her family in the near future is very small.

So she made it out there in a timely manner and I got to serve her in getting there. How often do I get an opportunity to be God's hands where I get to see the results so clearly? I feel pretty blessed.

How essential are these oils?

2010-08-12T22:28:00.002-06:00

A few months ago, my friend Em gave me a recipe for zesty lemon balm jelly. My parents happen to have a huge patch of lemon balm in their yard, so I promised her I would try it. After a few ziplock bags of the stuff went moldy sitting in my kitchen, I decided to actually do it tonight. It didn't look very involved or time-consuming, so I thought it would be easy to get done in one sitting.

The first step is to make a lemon balm infusion, by pretty much boiling the balm to death in a pot of water to get all the essential oils out of the plant and into the water. I started the pot boiling and walked away. However, the unwatched pot didn't boil very quickly, and it ended up taking a good forty five minutes.

Also, the smell of lemon balm infusion is . . . interesting. I'm not quite sure how to describe it, except it almost is a combination of artichokes and lemon. Not really bad, but not really amazing, either. However, my kitchen now smells like . . . lemony artichokes.

Since it took so long to make the infusion, I opted to store the infusion and finish the jelly (which will hopefully not taste like artichokes) at a later time. I went ahead and took advantage of the little screw-top containers I got to put the finished jelly in to store the infusion. All I can say is it's a good thing the infusion is such a dark color or my roommates might be concerned.

Now I am going to finish my evening by enjoying the scent of some other essential oils. I am in love with ending my day by reading out on the back porch, which is where the tomatoes and basil and mint are growing. Mmmmm . . . now those are smells that I can unequivocally say are delicious.

I'm reading a fascinating book called "Wide as the Waters" about the history of and leading up to and resulting from the translation of the Bible into English. I love it. And off to read I go.

The squashed molecule of life

2010-08-09T20:56:00.004-06:00

We have a lot of DNA squashed into every one of our cells. Did you ever think about that? Well, now's your big chance! Almost every human has 46 chromosomes in each and every cell of their bodies. Each chromosome, stretched out completely, is several feet long. Wrap your mind around that. Now think about how compact each of those chromosomes gets crammed up into the standard chromosome structure. Here's a visual to assist you:

There's the chromosome- can you make out the strands of DNA packed in there? Coiled around and around those histone proteins . . . I love biology.

What I do at work

2010-08-03T17:08:00.003-06:00

I get to do some cool things at work on a regular basis. The kind of cool things that make me an official nerd, but still . . .

One thing I get to do is extract DNA. There are a variety of tests that can be done with DNA, and the purer the DNA is, the better. Removing all the extra stuff does wonders.

The first thing I do is take a sample of cells as my source of DNA. Since I work in a hospital reference lab, these are human cells I'm working with, and usually blood cells. Now, the DNA is securely sitting inside those cells, and I'm sure you've noticed that cells don't just break open for anything. I mean, look at your arm. Think about all the things your arm goes through in the course of a day without having all its cells ruptured. Yeah, cells are pretty tough. So the cells in my centrifuge tube aren't going to just break open either, even if I vortex them really fast.

However, what I can so is break them open with a surfactant. You are familiar with surfactants in the form of soap. Soaps break open cells. Don't worry, your cells are safe for a few reasons, so don't stop using soap. But when I have cells floating in a tube and I add my strong surfactant and the cells are completely surrounded by it and get all mixed up, then the surfactant gets inside that lipid cell membrane and tears it right open. It probably even gets inside the nucleus membrane and does the same thing.

This is great, because the cell membrane and the nucleus membrane are really the only things standing between me and the DNA. However, even though the DNA is floating freely among the membrane fragments now, it's far from clean. First, there's all the membrane fragments in the way. Second, DNA does not exist by itself inside a cell. It's wrapped up around and around tons of proteins to protect it and give it stability. This is great in the cell, but I want purified DNA to run tests on. So I add a protease.

A protease is, ironically enough, another kind of protein, but it is a protein whose sole job is to go around chewing up other proteins. Once the proteins have been chewed up really small, I add another solution that will precipitate the proteins to the bottom of the tube.

Now the DNA is floating in the liquid- or supernatant- and the proteins and membranes are pelleted at the bottom. From here, it's an easy step to pour the DNA into a separate tube containing ethanol for one final wash, and to store it in a special buffer that will keep it stable until I want to use it for some interesting study.

That's one of the things I did at work today. I have a cool job.

Who needs TV with kids around?

2010-07-27T23:07:00.002-06:00

Last week, I acquired my fifth nephew. As Laura pointed out, whenever one of us gets around to having a girl, she will be the most spoiled baby in the world.

We do love our boys, though, and I was quite happy to get to meet baby Z on Saturday. Tim is quite proud that he and his son were the same weight at birth. They seem to have the same personality so far, too- very laid back and easygoing and stoic. This kid never cries, to his parents' joy. He also wouldn't open his eyes for me, but I'm sure we'll have time to get to know each other.

I ended up spending Saturday night at the homestead instead of driving back to Salt Lake, and both T and K decided they wanted to have a sleepover with me. The only problem with that was that I was staying in a room with two twin beds. In my mind, that meant that one of the boys would be sleeping on the floor. I sat them down and pointed out that there were only two beds, and K piped up, "you can sleep in my bed." Which, I suppose, was very generous of him. I didn't have the heart to ask him to sleep on the floor after that. By about 5 AM, I was very tired of being squashed in half of a twin bed, though, so *I* ended up sleeping on the floor. Looking back, I have no idea why I didn't go into Laura's room, since she was gone, or find a couch or something.

By Sunday evening, K was definitely wound up. After doing some silly and annoying things, I hunted him down in Dad's closet and asked him if he'd like to go outside to run around. We ended up running races across the length of the backyard. T came out and wanted to join in. K had been having me give him head starts, but when T came out, he suggested that I should get the head start. Bemused, I asked him why. "Well," he replied, "I noticed that you're not a very fast runner."

At that point, I decided that I was doing too good of a job of letting them win, and so for the next race, I booked it across the lawn and easily beat the eight year old and the five year old. Then they both stripped all the flowers they could reach off the Rose of Sharon and gave them all to me. Maybe I'm still single because no man has showered as much love and attention on me as my nephews have. Hm.

2010-07-24T23:09:00.001-06:00

One thing that I simultaneously love and dislike about this single LDS life I lead is the sudden opportunities that appear for exciting new experiences, be they fun, thought-provoking, or service-oriented. Like all opportunities, these have a limited window during which they are valid options, and these windows tend to run on the small side.

So it was on Thursday when I got home from work and discovered an email from my good friend Sarah P, inviting me to go backpacking in the Uintahs this weekend, a quick overnight trip to Jewel Lake, a place that her boyfriend, Brian, had been wanting to show her for some time.

So it came to pass that I found myself on Friday afternoon leaving work to frantically cram Heather's loaned backpack with food and a toothbrush and a spare pare of socks, before leaving for the beautiful, scenic drive from Salt Lake to Kamas and on into the Uintahs with Sarah, Brian, and Trevor.

It didn't really occur to us until we were driving up through the Mirror Lake Scenic Highway that it was a holiday weekend, but we felt it was appropriate to celebrate our Pioneer heritage by roughing it and reconnecting with nature.

I am proud to report that, although the hike in was only a couple miles and not really strenuous, I did carry my own pack the whole way with minimal problems. My body really is a lot stronger than it used to be, and I rejoice.

I actually fared a lot better than Trevor, the king of backpacking and camping, who, on the way in, misjudged a log's ability to hold his weight, wasn't able to catch himself as the log gave way, and awkwardly fell forward, managing to sprain his ankle. Being a tough, manly man, he proceeded onwards and really didn't complain too much considering the amount of pain he must have been in. It did have a sad effect on the amount of hiking we did after that, though.

Although I love camping and "roughing it," I must confess this was some of the roughest roughing I have yet done. We didn't take in any firewood; while Sarah and Brian took a romantic stroll around the lake, Trevor and I pulled tinder off of trees in the form of dead pine branches and located some long dead logs that Trevor broke into the appropriate size by hurling rocks at them. It didn't take long before we had a merry fire going, and although Trevor initially laughed at me for bringing a whole six pack of sausages, he was quite happy to eat two of them for me in return for some of his gourmet instant mashed potatoes.

I also had the great pleasure of inroducing Sarah and Brian to the roasted cinnamon bear, a delectable family tradition that is much less gooey and harder to ruin than roasting marshmallows. Yum. Brian and Sarah effectively cleaned out the bag of cinnamon bears, they liked them so much.

Trevor is a media aficionado, and he just got a nice new camera, which, of course, he brought along on the trip. We took it down to near the lake to do all kinds of crazy stunts with exposure time- next time I see Trevor I'll bug him to send me copies of them so I can display all his awesome ideas for cool pictures.

The next morning, we took a few nice strolls, I found my personal shrine in a pile of moraine rock that covered an inlet for the lake and also was a haven for all kinds of gorgeous wildflowers, we cleaned up camp, and began hiking out. Sarah and Brian began falling behind, and we somehow wound up separated from them. It ended well when we got back to the car within fifteen minutes of each other. But since Trevor and I got there first, we had time to contemplate what it would be like to get a covered wagon through the Uintah mountains. We concluded that the pioneers were very smart to not go through the mountains, which would have been a death wish on the whole expedition.

Race You to the Top of the Mountain

2010-07-20T23:59:00.002-06:00

As I was leaving work today, I discovered a text from Trevor on my phone indicating a hiking trip was in the works tonight. I haven't been hiking much this summer, so I ended up hiking to the top of Red Butte with Trevor and Tyler, and having a most enjoyable time.

As we sat on the peak of the hill and looked out across the valley, it hit all of us what a unique kind of beauty Salt Lake has. As we watched the red sun set until it met up with its reflection in the Great Salt Lake and vanished over the horizon, and the lights of the city slowly came on and began to twinkle, filling up the whole valley, we basked in the slowly receding desert heat. The beginnings of the evening canyon breezes curled down Emigration Canyon as the sounds of a thunderstorm further south wafted towards us.

We squinted at the beautiful panorama and were able to just make out all four temples in the Salt Lake Valley, starting with the nearest, Salt Lake itself, then moving much further south down the valley, to Jordan River, Oquirrh Mountain, and Draper. The half moon poked out from behind its shroud of stormclouds, tinged pink from the still-setting sun, and I sat in awe of this marvelous place that I live.

So marvelous. Life is so good. I love when the moon shines so bright and I can see the path clearly by its light. I love spending good time with good friends and discussing all things, silly and sober, along the way. I love it when my friends who are true mountaineers are patient with my slightly slower and more cautious approach to climbing hills. I love coming home from a tiring hike and letting the shower wash away all the grime. I love throwing my windows wide open to let the summer-ness of the night come in while I sleep. I am a blessed woman. And there are always more mountains to climb.

A Journ-al of the Journ-ey

2010-07-17T23:44:00.002-06:00

I am a pretty regular journaler, not as frequent as I usually set out to be, but my journal entries tend to be usually at least a page typed and fairly in-depth. My journal is not so much a place to vent as a place for me to state what's going on in my life and what I feel about it and what insights I've gained from it and what I'm doing about it. It's also a place to record all the things I'm grateful for, all the blessings and miracles that take place in my life, and how I'm progressing on any goals that I am currently working on.

My journal has been a huge blessing itself because I get to go back and read through it to remind myself of where I've been and where I'm going. It's fascinating how remembering where I've been can be both a testimony to how far I've come and also a testimony of how many good things I've experienced and can continue to experience if I allow myself to.

That was the blessing of my journal this week. I found myself staying up later than I intended last night because of some concerns I had with some situations in my life. I ended up pulling out (or pulling up, since it's all digitized now) my journal from last year and reading several pages worth of entries. It did so much to remind me that I've had a hand in creating miracles in the past and I get to keep right on creating miracles as long as I choose to. It pulled me through my rough spot last night and now tonight I feel so much more peaceful and really just grounded in my convictions and faith. All because I took a little time last year to record what was going on around me.

It also brought to mind the stories and teachings that I've been reading in the Book of Mormon the last little while. I just read the end of the Book of Omni, which contains the record of the people of Nephi leaving the land of Nephi under the leadership of King Mosiah the first and happening across Zarahemla and his people. If you are familiar with the Book of Mormon, you are aware that Mosiah and his people were descendants of Nephi, Sam, Zoram, Jacob, and Joseph, who had a record called the brass plates that had a history of their people and a lot of doctrine, as well as the gold plates which their people had used to keep a record of their current history and teachings. The people of Zarahemla were descendants of Mulek, and they had no such writings. The Book of Omni indicates that the Nephite people were grounded in their knowledge of God, Christ, and the gospel, as well as their ancestral language and their ancestral heritage. The Mulekites hadn't had this advantage and had really fallen apart as a society. They lived without the blessings of the gospel and the blessings of knowing where they had come from and why they had been brought there by the Lord.

I have found that the more conscious I am of what I do with my life, the easier it is to direct myself on a clear path in the direction that I desire. And it never ceases to amaze me how enhanced my memory is by the aid of my journal. The more clear I am about where I've been and what I've already experienced, the more clear I am about where I am going. What a great tool for good my journal can be.

Inner strength

2010-07-06T23:28:00.002-06:00

As life usually does, tonight did not go according to plan. The plan was to be in bed by 10:30. We gathered for apartment prayer at 10. Then Jamie passed out and went into a seizure.

This is not an uncommon thing, unfortunately, but her cardiologist had instructed her to go to the ER the next time it happened so she could be monitored with professional equipment. Jamie has been dealing with seizures for a long time, and a number of specialists have been unable to determine exactly why. So after she had her first active seizure and was laying on the floor unconscious, we had our roommate prayer and Sarah called the paramedics. Sarah was once an EMT herself and has known Jamie for years, so she was able to give them the full run-down. Cassaundra and I sat quietly in the living room next to Jamie and talked to her to keep her from going into more active seizures, which partly worked and partly didn't.

It must have been a slow night, because shortly there was an ambulance and two fire trucks in front of our house, and at least eight men filing into our living room with various equipment. After some discussion and tests, Jamie was strapped on a gurney and she, Sarah, and Heather left with the paramedics for the hospital. Methinks they are in for a long night.

After all the hubbub died down, Cassaundra and I talked for a bit about the various challenges that face each of the girls in our house. It absolutely amazes me what each girl is experiencing and how much fortitude we all have. I believe our current list includes boyfriends with commitment issues, mononucleosis, unemployment, unique work challenges involving troubled teenage girls, broken bones, being single and 30, depression and anxiety (which doesn't count me, by the way- I've been depression free for a good bit now :-)), siblings with health challenges, and parents with terminal illness. Spread that across five girls and you've got a cross section of my house.

I am constantly amazed at the girls I live with and how they carry the challenges they've been given to bear. They are some of my favorite people and they are bearers of the light that they were born with. And we all draw strength from coming together and sharing our experiences and joys and sorrows. And so I don't get weighed down when I think of the burdens we bear. I smile and feel the solemn joy of knowing that I live with daughters of God who are in the thick of their training to become like their Father. As am I.

An insight

2010-06-28T23:16:00.001-06:00

I have a confession. I've been bad-mouthing someone that I know very well. For a long time.

Her name is Maria and I spend a lot of time with her. And she does a lot of things that make me roll my eyes or tell her things like "wow, that was smooth." Or, "Good one, Maria!" Or just "Maria!" in a somewhat exasperated tone of voice- or thought.

The funny thing is that I would never vocalize things like this about other people and even thinking them is fairly rare. So not long ago I decided that this Maria girl deserves better treatment, too. She's really a pretty neat person.

Today as I was driving home from work I suddenly remembered how, when I was a wee thing, my mother worked to instill in my siblings and I the good habit of not saying unkind things about others. If she caught us badmouthing a family member, we were often required to say five nice things about that person. We, of course, did not really like this, since we wanted to vent our frustrations out. But my mom was on to something. Words have power. The more time I spend speaking negative words, the more negative my life will be. The more I focus on the negative aspects of my life, the larger and larger they will loom. And the more I speak uplifting words, the more optimistic and happy I will be.

So, although I was laughing about it a little bit, today when I got after Maria for being less than perfect, I told myself that I got to say five nice things about her. Because all those harsh words and attitudes are bent on controlling. And frankly, I'm not interested in controlling myself. What I strive for now is to inspire myself. Control works from the outside in while inspiration works from the inside out. And how can I hope to inspire myself by telling myself uninspiring things and beating myself up for not being "perfect?"

I want to inspire myself to live up to my dreams and aspirations. And in so doing, I want to inspire those around me to be positive and uplifting, also. In fact, I want to inspire you to live from the inside out, dear reader. Go forth. Ponder a little. How can you be inspiring? And then- do it!

Mighty even unto power of deliverance

2010-06-19T17:26:00.002-06:00

my ward is doing a Book of Mormon reading challenge this summer- we are all working to complete the Book of Mormon entirely between June 6 and September 30. I haven't read straight through the Book of Mormon for a while, so I am excited to do this.

One of my favorite scriptures in the Book of Mormon is in the first chapter, the last verse in 1 Nephi 1. I feel that it is a bookend to accompany the oft-quoted Moroni 10:4-5, which is the concluding testimony and invitation to seek testimony of the Book of Mormon. My verse is 1 Nephi 1:20, where Nephi writes:

But behold, I, Nephi, will show unto you that the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom he hath chosen, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance.

I love this scripture. I have a list of scriptures that explain reasons to read the Book of Mormon, and this is one of the first ones on the list. So, this time through the Book of Mormon, I am specifically looking for stories that expound on this scripture- stories where the Lord showers tender mercies on those who are mighty because of their faith. Some of them will make their way onto the blog.

How does the Lord shower His tender mercies on you?

Art sleuthing

2010-06-19T17:11:00.002-06:00

There is a large painting in the Salt Lake temple right by the entrance to the women's dressing room of the Savior with the apostles gathered around Him in what is pretty clearly a depiction of the Last Supper. I've always loved something about the colors and light in the painting and the way it looks so intimate and personal. I can feel the tenderness of the Savior as He gives His followers the new law of the sacrament that will take the place of the animal sacrifices of the Law of Moses. I've always wondered who the artist is and whether or not I could track down the painting.

Last week when I was in the temple, I stopped and looked for the signature on the painting as I was walking past. The first name was pretty clearly "Walter," but the last name was a little trickier. It looked like it might be "Rome," but it could just have easily have been "Rame," or "Rone" or "Rane." But since that didn't leave me with *too* many options, I recited the name to myself over and over so I wouldn't forget it on the drive home.

Upon arriving home, I typed "Walter Rome" into Google and didn't find anything relevant. Lots of stuff about guys named Walter who have connections to the city Rome, though. I tried the variants and still didn't see anything useful. It was late and I didn't know what else to try, so I went to bed.

This afternoon, a few days later, I realized that I still had the tab open for my Google search for Walter the mystery artist. I decided to try a slightly different search and entered "Walter Rame Jesus Christ" into the engine. Somehow, adding those last two words was enough to bring up a link for the artist Walter Rane's website, including a link for purchasing the very print that I loved! Hooray! And now, at the risk of setting up this painting to sound amazing and having someone whose taste in art is different than mine be disappointed, I am including a link so anyone who feels so inclined can see the sight that always makes me happy when I'm leaving the temple. Voila. I have never purchased actual high-end art prints before so I'm still working out what the next step is, but it sounds kind of cool to get a rolled-up canvas delivered in the mail and get it framed . . . hmmm.

Party animals!

2010-06-18T22:53:00.004-06:00

We had our annual work party tonight- at the zoo. Laura graciously agreed to be my guest, and we hung out with Trevor for most of the night. Much fun and excitement esued:

Hooray for fun evenings at the zoo!

Explanation of previous post

2010-06-18T22:41:00.003-06:00

Last night I was working with some songs that Danielle and I recorded when I visited her house in March. I don't know much about GarageBand so I was playing around to get individual songs out as tracks and what have you. Then I got curious to see if I could upload an audio file anywhere that I frequent on the internet. I can't see how to do it on Facebook, but I did discover that mp3 files can be uploaded onto Blogspot as videos. Therefore, we have me singing, Danielle playing the piano, and Danielle's kids making noises in the background. Such fun memories. I'm so glad we recorded those songs :-)

2010-06-17T23:40:00.001-06:00

Ponderings

2010-06-13T23:00:00.003-06:00

A lot has taken place in my life and in my character recently and it's all swirling around inside me. I had an awesome day today. I had an opportunity to confirm to myself how powerful it can be to drop barriers and converse freely with people I love about hard things. I got to feel the spirit give me power and comfort and confirmation as I pondered the things I've been learning, and the things I've been prompted to do. I got to ponder on the fact that every experience in life is an opportunity to springboard into something greater.
You know something? Life is amazing when the dominant feeling I allow to be present is love. Love for myself, love for my family, love for God, love for all my brothers and sisters all over the world who I haven't met yet in this life. I've contemplated a lot the idea that Ghandi verbalized about how we must be the change we would see in the world, and I'm getting more and more excited by that. I get to change, I get to let go of the garbage that I've dragged through life with me and allow myself to fly by not tying myself down to anything that has-or hasn't- happened in the past. The word I use in church to describe that process is repentance. And it makes me so happy to know that I get to let go of the garbage of the world, free myself from the mire, and soar. The power is in me. I am an agent unto myself. I get to do the acting, not the being acted upon- if I so choose. That's exciting.

A little bit of sun

2010-06-04T22:02:00.002-06:00

So here's a surprise. I like Phoenix. A lot more than I thought I would. I'm such a phytophyll that I've always declared that there's no way I could live in a place more dry than Utah- but I am rather fond of Phoenix. And it partly has to do with the plant life. I went on a walk through downtown Phoenix tonight and found a lovely little shopping center where I stopped for dinner and then sat in a public garden for a while. And while I use the term garden loosely, it was a lovely little place and very aesthetically pleasing.

I continued on my wanderings and stumbled across Arizona State University, and the Historic District, which are right next to each other. By now I had bean pods from a mimosa tree in my backpack and I was holding a beautiful white flower in my hand. I am such a nerd. And it makes me happy.

On my way back, I wandered through the grounds surrounding the Francisca Catholic church near my hotel- St. Mary of the Basilica. Here I was met by a mystery. I found trees that had the leaves of a cottonwood with the bark of a birch, while sporting the podlike fruit of a legume. O mystery tree, what art thou? This is one very frustrating thing about not knowing what the foliage is- it's very tricky to find out. I can try just pinching random descriptive words into Google, but that doesn't seem like it would yield much fruit.

Oh yeah, I went to my conference today, too. Met a lot of nice people in the cytogenetics field. Learned a lot about melanoma and bone marrow sample preparation. Had a very nice, fancy business lunch. Ran through my presentation probably about ten times- I still clock in at about 11 1/2 minutes when I run it without looking at my notes, which is a minute and a half too long. If I look at my notes, I can get it in ten, but I guess I like to talk and throw in extra things? How many more times can I practice this thing before I go crazy? Good thing that I will be presenting it in twelve hours . . .

When did I get grown up enough to give presentations at national conferences?

Living life freely

2010-06-02T22:29:00.002-06:00

I am tuckered. A half day at work followed by flying to Phoenix to get ready for the conference is apparently wiping me out.

However, it has been a very good day, as well. I ended up sitting next to a very nice, chatty woman in her mid-70s on the plane named Trudy, and Trudy and I had a great conversation. It was so pleasant, in fact, that we talked all the way from Salt Lake to Phoenix. She told me all kinds of stories and asked me lots of questions, too.

Then as I was waiting for my shuttle to take me to the hotel, I chatted briefly with a man who was a CPA in town for a different conference. He told me he was from Iowa, "believe it or not."

I wasn't sure what I shouldn't believe, so I guessed where he was heading and replied, "yeah, I guess a few people do live in Iowa."

He laughed heartily and gently slapped me on the shoulder and said, "yeah, a few people and a lot of Indians."

Right then my shuttle came up, so I have no idea if he was being serious or not. But I must admit that I have never pictured Iowa as being populated by a lot of Indians. Huh.

Upon getting to the hotel and getting up to my room, I saw my friend Brad was online and started a chat with him. I thought I recalled that he was in Phoenix for the summer, and that proved to be correct. Turns out that his ward holds Institute on Wednesday nights, and he offered to give me a ride over. So I went to Institute. The lesson was an excellent one about the dealings of the Lord with Nephi, son of Helaman in the beginning of the Book of Helaman, and it covered several things that I've been pondering a lot lately. Maybe someday some of them will make it on to this blog. In any case, I was grateful for the unexpected opportunity for spiritual nourishment tonight.

After Institute, Brad and I hung around and talked to people for a while. One of the girls there has pet sugar gliders- with her. I'd never actually seen a sugar glider before, and I was fascinated. The glider just ran up and down the girl's shirt- and then jumped on to mine. We got to be friends there for a minute, and it was a cute little thing. Now I have held a sugar glider.

Now I'm back at the hotel- fanciest place I've ever stayed, I think. I just ordered room service for the first time. I'm on the 21st floor of the building, which is really interesting when going down in the elevator with one glass side. Great view of the city, now that the sun isn't glaring in to my room. I had a pretty good day. Now I will go take advantage of the king-sized bed I have at my disposal and sleep soundly.

Mmmmmmm

2010-06-02T13:21:00.001-06:00

I love accidental yummy things to eat. Today I threw together a sandwich for lunch and wound up with a surprisingly delicious delicacy. i strongly recommend:
turkey, provolone, green onions, and poppyseed dressing
Surprisingly good.

Treasure

2010-05-18T22:11:00.003-06:00

This morning when I was talking to my nephew K, the topic of treasure came up. Now, K is a very typical five-year-old boy in some respects, including the fact that he adores Indiana Jones, Star Wars, and all things relate thereunto (especially if combined with legos- he gave me a sticker of a lego Yoda and a lego Chewbacca this afternoon. I might put them on my research notebook at work . . .). Now, of course, one of the main themes in Indiana Jones is treasure. So my cousin Aly told K that I would take him on a treasure hunt and his eyes lit up. After I raised my eyebrow at Aly (just one, since it does sound pretty fun to make a treasure hunt for a nephew), K began asking me about treasure hunts I'd been on in the past, and then he asked me if I'd ever found any treasure.

After a moment of contemplation, I told him that I had found a lot of treasure in my life, but that I wasn't sure it was the same thing he was talking about. He politely asked me to describe it anyway, and so I began telling him that when I go hiking in the mountains and I find a meadow filled with flowers, I consider that a treasure. When I step outside in the evening and see a beautiful sunset, I consider that a treasure. Spending time with people I love is a treasure.

I wasn't sure if that made any kind of impression on him, because then he told me that he wanted to go hiking with a pickaxe to see if we could dig anything up.

However, later that day, we were eating pizza together on the front porch. K told me how much he loved spending time with his aunts and uncles and then paused for a moment and asked me "I think that is a . . . could that be a treasure for me?"

I was delighted, and explained that anything that brings him joy can be a treasure. He nodded and said, "Okay, it's a treasure, then."

A little while later, the combined effects of the rainy day, the beautiful colors of the flowers and the antics of my nephews made me giggle in delight. When K wanted to know what was so funny, I told him that this kind of day just makes me happy inside. He nodded sagely and said, "so that's a treasure for you, then."

Wow. This kid packs a punch sometimes. Indeed, K, beautiful days with people I love are a treasure for me. Thank you for reminding me that my treasure is all around me, blessed boy. What a treasure my sweet little nephew is.

The amazingnes of life

2010-05-15T21:38:00.002-06:00

Sometimes while I'm at work I'll have an idea or insight pop into my mind that I don't want to forget- so I send myself an email. As I was cleaning out my email inbox tonight, I found a couple of gems that I wrote myself in March. This one I especially like tonight:

Life is a really amazing thing- because of the Fall, we have the opportunity to learn all kinds of things that we could never learn if Heavenly Father just kept taking care of us all the time and if we never had the chance to have physical bodies. But also because of the Fall, we have the opportunity to make all kinds of mistakes and do all kinds of things that hurt us and those around us. The amazing part is that because of the Atonement, we can, through the proper attitudes, desires, and actions, have the negative impact of our mistakes removed and healed, while keeping the benefit of the good things we learn- both from good choices and bad. How incredible is that?

How incredible, indeed? May I strive every day to use the power of the atonement to be accountable for what I do, say, think, and feel, and to heal the negative parts of what I create and experience and to exponentially expand the good that I create. What a blessed world.

Beauty

2010-05-11T22:42:00.002-06:00

When I wake up in the morning, often the first thing I do is pull back the curtain a crack and peek out at the back yard. I am still in love with the fact that I have a back yard . . . hooray! And every day it grows more beautiful. It was pretty in the winter when it was all covered in snow. It was pretty in an anticipatory kind of way when March rolled around and the snow melted and the expectation of spring was there. It was pretty when the first leaves of the oak tree started peeking out.

And then it suddenly turned a verdant green, with the grass and the periwinkles and the growing leaves. And now it is beautiful. Every morning when I stare out the window I wonder if it was that green the day before or if my eyes are playing tricks on me.

I was sadder than sad when the magnolias stopped blooming for the spring, but I was delightfully surprised when all the flowering cherries suddenly appeared in their pink, frothy splendor. I had forgotten that they bloom so late after the magnolias . . . bless all the people along my drive to work who have flowering cherries in their yards. They make my heart sing.

I am so grateful to live in a world with so much beauty.

It serves me to be conscious of what I'm doing . . .

2010-05-07T23:09:00.002-06:00

Heh. I came home tonight for some party time with Michael and Angela. I discovered a while ago that it can be beneficial for me to keep certain items at my parents' house, so just in case I end up spending the night unplanned (which has happened a couple times), I don't end up going without brushed teeth or anything like that. So normally in the main bathroom there's a toothbrush, some face wash, a contact case, contact solution, and mouthwash for me.

Because of this, I often leave my toothbrush etc. in Salt Lake when I know I'll be spending the night in Orem because it's easier to not take them back and forth. Thus, when I threw some things in an overnight bag this morning, it involved pajamas, makeup, hair stuff, and clothes for tomorrow.

What I didn't count on was the bathroom renovation. I knew that Laura had taken it on herself to redo the main bathroom, but I wasn't anticipating somehow the completely dismantled room, with the big mirror taken down, shreds of wallpaper all over the floor, and yellow paint drying merrily on the walls. This is all well and good, I am a fan of progress. Then I realized that my belongings had been mostly placed on a shelf on the wall that was definitely not there any more. After a brief search in which I began strategizing where the nearest place was that I could go to buy a new toothbrush, I found most of what I was after- toothbrush, mouthwash, contact case. After a little more searching, I found a green container that looked a lot like the random facewashes that can be found in my house at times, so I grabbed them all and headed down to the basement bathroom to prepare myself for sleep. Teeth brushed, contacts out. I got my face wet and applied some of the creamy cleanser. It was exceptionally creamy, and felt a little thin for a masque- hadn't I seen the word masque on the front of the tube? Yep, there it was- "volumizing masque?" Why on earth are they advertising a facewash that is volumizing?

At this point, between the texture of the stuff and the word "volumizing" on the front of the tube, I began to get suspicious. Nowhere else on the front of the tube did it advertise exactly what this stuff was, so I turned it over. No major clarification there, either, until I started reading the instructions. "Apply to wet hair . . ."

Ah. It suddenly made sense. Most girls, while not wanting their faces to be voluminized, do desire to see more voluminization in their hair. Apparently the word s"conditioner" and "masque" are interchangeable. After a hearty chuckle, I washed off the conditioner and decided that my face was clean enough. If I wake up tomorrow morning with a voluminous face, I'll be sure to write the company and let them know that their product works. Maybe Angi just keeps choosing voluminizing mascaras, and she's not actually allergic to them after all. Hm.

Like a ray of sunshine through a bank of clouds

2010-04-06T21:12:00.002-06:00

Tonight at Institute I had some interesting thoughts. That often happens in Institute. Sometimes I even get the impression that I should not only record my thoughts, which I often do, but record them on my blog, which I usually do not. Granted, many of my thoughts are very personal and wouldn't be appropriate to write anywhere but my private journal, but sometimes I get the feeling that someone else who may read it could also benefit from the inspiration that I've been blessed to receive.

The class, incidentally, was on the topic of inspiration. This is quite possibly one of my favorite gospel topics to discuss, right up there with the atonement, charity, and faith. Truth be known, it is one of the things that really puts a clear demarcation between my church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and all other Christian denominations.

And it is one of the most wonderful ideas I've ever heard. I've been through some rough times in my years on earth. I've been through confusing times and frustrating times and times when I knew I needed to change or wanted to help but didn't know how. And I know I'm far from alone in this. I think it pretty much describes a basic part of the human condition. And I can't tell you how much comfort and confidence it has given me over the years to know that I have the privilege of receiving comfort, support, confirmation, and specific guidance from my Heavenly Father, if I want it badly enough to do the things necessary to receive it.

This, I think, is a major component of being made alive in Christ, as Paul puts it. When we are reborn, we have the opportunity to literally open a connection between ourselves and heaven, giving us the incredible privilege of not only being able to talk to God through prayer, but being able to have Him speak back- how amazing is that? I have a hard time fathoming what life would be like without that line of support. The beauty of it is that God offers it to everyone- He stands at the door knocking, it's up to us to answer the door.

One of my favorite aspects of personal revelation is the way that it can be such a powerful tool for God to bless the lives of His children who need some help, some encouragement, or just to know that someone cares. There are few things more amazing than to know that God chose to use you as the instrument to bring someone else much needed comfort or counsel. One of the talks that we used in class tonight, which was geared towards youth, spoke about how we must train ourselves to listen- and respond- to the voice of the Spirit so that as mothers and fathers, our children will not suffer because of our bad habits. I can think of few positions in life that require more revelation than that of parenthood.

Few things convince me more that my Heavenly Father loves me than knowing, and experiencing, His direction in my life. I'm not a pro and there are times for sure that I spend extra time on my knees asking for clarification or some kind of guidance. But so often it comes, like a ray of sunshine into my soul, confirming again and again what I already know- that I am a child of God and He is watching over me. And that can give you a lot of confidence to keep going.

Weekend of contrast

2010-03-31T20:53:00.002-06:00

I woke up last Friday morning to see snow out the window. This was not pleasing, but I was okay with the fact that it was snowing because I was flying out of town later that day to go to Las Vegas.

I had a much better time in Vegas than most people do, because I didn't lose a cent of money to the slot machines. Instead, I went and played with Danielle and her family- Adam, her husband, and their three kids.

The highlights of the weekend were as follows:

No snow! Nice, warm weather in the 70's

Danielle's little boy, Jacob, kept forgetting my name and referring to me as "that girl" or "you." This was very hilarious.

Danielle's baby is one of the happiest infants I have ever seen, and I've seen a few.I think my heart melted a few times.

When Danielle and I lived together in Provo, she was studying piano performance in college and we would often have music nights where she would play the piano and I would sing. I took a good chunk of my music books along and we had a wonderful time
playing through our old favorites. Hooray!

Little Cindy went through a routine each night where she pointed out that my toothbrush was in the toothbrush holder along with her and Jacob's, as though this was the most pleasing thing in the world to her.

Now I am back in Utah and it is, again, snowing. Hard. And foggy. But I think it will warm up soon and then it will be spring for real!

Of plants and birthdays and other such things

2010-03-11T22:56:00.002-07:00

The grow light is here! I thought I would have to dismantle my leafy corner to keep seedlings there, but then I figured out that I could rig the light up under my desk table. It always surprises me how bright it is when I turn it on, but I guess that's the point. Most of the basil has been potted and is sitting under the caring watch of the grow light even now. The rest of the basil and the tomatoes will get to begin their lives this weekend.

This is birthday week at our house. Wednesday was Theresia's birthday, today is Sarah's, and Saturday is mine. Then Kerstin's is on the 24th. And Cassaundra's is on the 30th of April. We are a pretty decent cluster, I think. We're having a mass birthday party on the 18th and calling it "Cassaundra's roommates' birthday party." I guess Cassie gets her own because her birthday is spaced out by a month from the rest of us. But we've been having lots of good food here this week.

Speaking of good food, I am having a heyday with different kinds of ethnic food lately. There is a Finnish breakfast and lunch place in Salt Lake. Did you know that? I need to get over there for a Scandinavian breakfast soon. The girls at work and I are going to lunch tomorrow to Mazza, a middle eastern restaurant and I'm starting to drool thinking about hummus and gyros and pitas and tabouleh and fresh limemade, which Emily claims is divine. I was supposed to choose a meal for the family birthday celebration this Sunday and it was a struggle. It's going to be a fairly Italian, very European meal with foccacia bread and pureed carrot soup and spinach salad. But I'll be home Saturday too, and I'll be using that as an opportunity to try a few new Thai dishes (there will be curry on the menu along with the new dishes in case they don't work. Thai curry is one of my favorite things ever).

Lastly, life is good. But good and easy are not the same thing, don't fool yourself. Life is good and it's hard work- digging deeper and deeper into the heart of things that really matter and trying so hard to cast aside the things that don't, that just weigh you down and hold you back and prevent you from becoming the person God wants you to be. This is my quest. I think it will keep going my whole life- I think it is largely the point of being alive. And it's good and satisfying and sometimes even exhilarating. But man, it can be tiring sometimes. I'm feeling particularly introspective because that happens to me around things like birthdays. The goal is that next year at this time, I will be a better, more compassionate, deeper, more mature and Christlike person than I am now. Gearing up for a spiritual marathon!

The Great Basil Experiment

2010-03-03T21:31:00.002-07:00

I am an absolute sucker for fresh basil. Oh my goodness, the stuff is heavenly. So, I figured, what could be better than trying out a few different kinds to see which varieties I like best, and which ones work best with different dishes?
Hooray! Today my herb seeds arrived. The garden will be sporting:
Thai basil
Baja basil
Sweet basil
Italian large-leaf basil
Sweet lemon basil
Purple sacred basil
DiGenova basil
Siam Queen basil

And just for good measure, there is peppermint and spearmint, and I couldn't resist the description of their Alaska mix nasturtiums, and they threw in some sweet rocket as well.

Now if that grow light would just get here . . .

Winter's on the Wing!

2010-03-01T22:22:00.002-07:00

Today when I got home there was a small package on my desk containing my tomato seeds! With a little luck, this year we will get to partake of the delights of
chadwick cherry
Green zebra
Cherokee purple
Red Pear
White Wonder
Amish Paste
Brandywine
Mortgage Lifter
Green grape
Heinz 1439
Pink bertona
Black krim
and yellow pear tomatoes

That is assuming that I can get them all to germinate and thrive in my bedroom for several weeks . . . hopefully that grow light gets here soon . . .

Thoughts and happenings

2010-02-23T22:58:00.002-07:00

I had a voice lesson last Wednesday. I've been feeling really good about my lessons lately, like things are really starting to come together and my muscles are starting to internalize how they're supposed to move and behave when I'm singing. But Wednesday for whatever reason, probably a combination of tiredness and pollution, it took about half the lesson of different exercises to get my voice behaving correctly. But once it started sounding right, I was able to hold it there and sing through the numbers I've been working on and they sounded pretty good. Linda, my teacher, approved, and although she is an upbeat, constructive person, she won't hand out compliments when they aren't due.

We had a Chinese New Year party at my house on Friday, complete with a full-fledged Mongolian barbecue in the living room, manned by Dennis the jack-of-all-trades. The house smelled like a Chinese restaurant all day Saturday until Sarah decided enough was enough and opened the doors wide. The house aired out nicely, but it was like a fridge inside.

I went to hear the Utah Symphony on Saturday. I love the symphony. Why don't I go more often? It's such a fun reason to get dressed up and it's so easy to feel sophisticated when you're sitting in the elegant auditorium of Abravenal Hall.

They played Smetana's Ma Vlast in its entirety, all six movements. I had only heard three of them before. The whole symphony is so lyrical and poetic, although my favorite was The Moldau, without a doubt. This may be in part because I played the second flute part in high school, but it's also because The Moldau is simply a beautiful piece of music. I know of few program pieces that tell their story with such clarity and colorful illustration. The Moldau is a river in what was Czechoslovakia, Smetana's homeland ("Ma Vlast" means "My Country" in Czech, and each of the six movements is about a different region or a different story in Czechoslovakia). Listening to The Moldau is a journey of following the river from its source- little rivulets that are represented by two flutes- down as they become larger and merge and become a full-blown river. The river goes past a hunting party in the forest, a wedding party in the meadows, an old, abandoned castle by moonlight, and fairy sprites come out to play on its surface. It hits some rapids and waterfalls and then flows off into the distance. I love it because I've pictured the story that goes with it a hundred times in my head and I know every turn of the music and where it will take me on my journey down the river.

Someday I'll go see the Moldau river, and when I do, that music will be playing over and over in my head.

On a final note, patience has paid off and the first of the three amaryllis bulbs I planted in the living room planter is now gorgeous:

Snowy vacation = lots of time indoors

2010-02-23T22:31:00.002-07:00

This is John (and me):

John is one of my youngest cousins. He lives in Minneapolis not too far away from my grandparents, and since he is a very affectionate lad, it was very fun to spend a little time with him when I wasn't doing biography work. He also has quite a fanciful imagination. I should have written down more of the stories he told me, because they were quite humorous.

Since the high was about 29 while I was there, the only time I spent outdoors for more than a few minutes was when John coaxed me to go sledding the the front yard. The next thing I knew, he was an Olympic sledder:

Very, very exciting. We also had a lot of fun going out to lunch with Grandma, Grandpa, and a handful of their friends who they meet for lunch at a buffet every Monday. I think the average age is about 82. We were all getting seated a a long table when I looked over and realized that John was sitting at a booth by himself. Hum. "John," I called, "Are you just going to sit there by yourself?"

"Well," he responded, "I was thinking that maybe you would come sit by me."

How can you resist that? I left my grandpa describing a dietary supplement and went to sit by John in his booth. He loaded up his plate with chicken nuggets and pizza. Excellent use of a buffet. Later his dessert concoction would be enough to make most people's arteries curdle by just looking at the layers of gummy bears, ice cream, cookies, and whipped cream. The whole time, he gave me a running commentary on the adventures of his cat, Midnight, who he once accidentally swallowed in the middle of the night, and about Ghost Hunters, his favorite TV show, and different ways that he could break his leg to get out of school. He didn't believe me when I told him that breaking a leg would only get him out of a day or two of school and then he'd have to go to school and he'd have crutches.

Even more than John's stories, though, I enjoyed the stories my grandma told me- and I was much more inclined to believe that these ones were true, although they may have been tinged by the fuzziness of many years' passage. I love her sense of humor and her gentle patience with life. She is one of my best friends and I'm a little sobered to realize that she thinks very highly of me, too- it's something to live up to, to be sure. She paid me a massive compliment by telling me that if she were young again, she would want to be like me, which makes me smile, since I want to be like her when I'm old.

Writing this book has been a wonderful experience. I'm not done, but it's been just like going on a treasure hunt, unearthing wonderful stories and experiences about my grandma's life. And hopefully the people who read it will get the same sort of experience. That's my hope.

Vacationing in the Great White North

2010-02-10T22:39:00.003-07:00

Tomorrow I'm heading to Minneapolis, the first of a slew of trips during the next four months or so- some for business, some for pleasure. This one is pleasure with a side of business, but not corporate business. It is my great hope to finish my grandmother's biography over the next few months (between trips) and this visit to see my grandparents is going to be a big part of that.

The goal was to have the book drafted in some form before I left. I can technically say that's true; I have a draft of every chapter that I have enough information to write on done. But there are still four or five chapters I'd like to include that I don't have nearly enough material for. So I'm crossing my fingers that between my grandma and my grandpa and my grandma's friends and my uncles and a few cousins, I'll be able to get what I need. We'll see.

I've been thinking tonight- I flew out to Minneapolis almost exactly four years ago. I remember the date because I remember watching Olympic ice skating in the basement with Grandpa while I was there. I was there to interview for grad school at the University of Minnesota, and between that and the terrible car accident that Grandma was in shortly before I arrived, it was a rather emotional and stressful visit. I anticipate this one will be much more relaxed. Also, the thought that I was interviewing for grad school four years ago suddenly makes me feel rather old. But there's nothing like hearing my grandma's stories about growing up in the Great Depression to make me feel young again, so hooray! This will be a fun trip.

Contemplation

2010-02-07T21:23:00.002-07:00

I can never satisfactorily decide if I am an invert or an extrovert. It's Sunday night and we had ward prayer at our house, and after about forty-five minutes of mingling and talking, here I am ensconced in my room, listening to the happy chatter of voices in the living room but content to not be among them.

Sometimes when I'm feeling worn down and tired the best thing in the world is to go out and talk to people and be lighthearted and listen to their stories and share a laugh or a tear. And sometimes it's so much better to come away and not associate with anyone but myself and Heavenly Father.

Hm. I may never come up with a conclusive answer. But I do know that after a contemplative Sunday, being frivolous is not a savory feeling. So I come away and spend time with my books and my journal and my thoughts. And my blog, I suppose. And I ponder on how to draw the best line for spending time with others and spending time alone. I've felt the importance lately of following the admonition of an excellent song- "Take time to be holy, the world rushes on. Spend much time in private with Jesus alone. By looking to Jesus, more like Him you'll be. Thy friends in they conduct His likeness will see." I don't think in any way that this means to become a hermit and close myself off from the world, but I do think it means that if there's a choice between frivolous socialization and private meditation and character review, right now at least I need to choose the latter.

Of course, it's even better when the deep meditation and contemplation and the socialization cross each other. I was very fortunate this weekend to be able to meet up with two exceptional friends- one on Friday night and one on Saturday night; the kind of people that I know I can talk about the peaceable things of the kingdom with, the good, deep, solid things that make life really worthwhile and full of substance, that leave me feeling content and sustained. And it makes me wish that there were maybe ten people at most in my living room right now instead of twenty or so, and that they were the kind of people that I knew well enough I knew had the depth to converse with like that.

But I'm glad that they're here and that they're having fun and unwinding after a long week. And I'm also glad that I have a space of my own where I can come when I want to seek solace and privacy. Time to contemplate.

The Abundant Life

2010-02-02T22:07:00.002-07:00

There are times in my life where everything seems to line up. It's not that everything is perfect or that I'm always happy or even content, but it's that almost every aspect of my life feels fulfilling and stretching. I can still see the imperfections, but I also can see how I can fix them, and I realize that I can't fix them all at once, that it's a journey. These are times that are filled with good people and good activities, that don't allow me to float by effortlessly but create and provide constructive means for development. And a large part of that, I think, comes from inside of me, but a lot of it is also the result of external blessings that I'm given for different seasons in my life.

I think that now is one of those times. I get up in the morning and have a great conversation with Heavenly Father and listen to a little NPR (something about NPR always make me feel productive). I'm rather fond of cream of wheat right now, so after my morning bowl, I scratch together a lunch (bonus points if it involves yummy leftovers) and enjoy my ten-minute commute and the fact that I encounter minimal traffic.

I get to work and am immediately faced by situations and research projects that require me to actively think things through and study things out. I run tests and procedures that, indirectly, impact the lives of lots of people. I learn fascinating things about molecular biology. When I go to lunch, I enjoy the company of great friends whose company I enjoy.

In the evenings, depending on the day, I may go to my excellent Institute class and learn more about the most recent teachings of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and the First Presidency, or attend an endowment session in the temple to take a step back from life and ponder things of a greater nature, or attend a voice lesson, or go to a choir rehearsal, or work on my grandmother's biography, or, on rare nights, kick back and read for a while. In between times, my roommates and I participate in all kinds of adventures. They are currently making a late-night dinner in our kitchen right now, to be followed by watching Beauty and the Beast (we'll see how much of that I stay up for . . .)

Or other adventures take place. Last Friday night we went hot springing outside of Ogden under the full moon. Snowshoeing and cross-country skiing are common. There's always something going on and it's always enjoyable.

On Saturday, I got to meet my newest nephew, Henry. He was born on Wednesday and he and his parents were nicely situated back at home when I came down to Orem. It was wonderful to meet the tiny boy. It's been a while since I've held such a new-born baby, and it was a wonderful reminder of how precious life is.

Seasons like this are a gift, and I hope that I am using it wisely to stretch and grow and serve. It's so good, and I am at peace, and happy.

Reasons Why Today is Special

2010-01-25T21:35:00.002-07:00

Today is special because the view through the three-story glass atrium at work, of the whole valley in one sweeping vista, was crystal clear and pristine in amazing shades of blue and white and gray.

Today is special because I had a great talk with my roommate Cassaundra about some of the challenges we've faced or are facing and it made me feel closer to her and also refreshed my soul.

Today is special because I got to play miniature golf in the church with my friends Jamie and Mary and Chad and we all enjoyed each other's company.

Today is special because after our Relief Society lesson on service, taken from President Monson's conference talk in October, I'm reinstating my service journal to keep a daily record of things I do for others.

Today is special because it's bubble wrap appreciation day.

Today is special because all days are special and full of wonderful things, but today is extra special because a new temple was announced today for Payson, Utah, making the first temple between Provo and Manti.

Making a house a home

2010-01-16T20:16:00.004-07:00

I've been eager to get the last touches done in my new room so it really feels complete. I spent a good chunk of the day today on some muslin curtains- I didn't even have to buy the material. My mother bequeathed a huge plastic tub of fabric from her basement to me a couple of months ago, so when I decided I wanted muslin curtains I went digging through the tub in case there was something in there that would work. Lo and behold, there was! just enough nice white muslin to complete the curtains. They were a little smaller than I would have liked and I'm still contemplating if I want to add a nice blue strip near the bottom or not, but I was very pleased by what the curtains did for the ambiance of the room. My predecessor, Meagan, is a nurse who sometimes works nights and sleeps all day, so there were thick black curtains covering the windows when I moved in. I rather like the white muslin better, methinks.

Here's a taste of what my almost completed room looks like. The only thing missing is a very long bed ruffle to cover the boxes under my bed, but I didn't have enough muslin for that and I didn't feel like using any of the crazy floral prints in the tub o' fabric. I'm rather pleased with the general effect- it feels nice and open and friendly and it feels like it fits my personality, too:

Outside of my cozy room, my favorite feature of the house is the built-in planter boxes, which are currently holding some of my paperwhite flowers. I just planted some wild tulip bulbs in there today, so hopefully the timing will work out nicely and the tulips will be looking good when the paperwhites are done blooming:

These things just started blooming today and it's been an excellent mid-winter pick-me-up for all of us already.

I also like how my bookcase looks nestled in the upstairs living room next to the fireplace.

We are very much an open-door kind of place- you should stop by!

The Amazon is calling my name . . .

2010-01-09T12:34:00.002-07:00

Brazil. Late Summer/Early Autumn. Hiking through the rainforest. Boating down the Amazon. Who's in?

Family Photo!

2010-01-08T17:14:00.003-07:00

This is the group that I celebrated the holidays with. My entire immediate-but-quickly-extending family. I'm pretty lucky to have such a great group of people to be related to- and good-looking, I might add. (Also, Michael, I would like to point out that this picture provides clear evidence that you need to grow a couple more inches before you're taller than me- but I have no doubt you'll achieve that this year, never fear.)

We should all use logic like this

2009-12-27T21:32:00.002-07:00

Today I was playing a game with K and he decided to give me one of his cards. I looked at the card and asked in some confusion, "Why are you giving this to me? I'm a little confused."

He shrugged and smiled and said. "Just . . . for happiness."

That's kind of hard to argue with. I took the card.

Huh?

2009-12-23T23:13:00.002-07:00

So I registered for a one-night instructional class on artisan breadmaking through the U of U's continuing education program. I received an email confirming that my registrations request had been received, but that I had not been formally accepted into the class yet. My favorite part of the email reads thus:

Confirmation of your enrollment will be sent by email within 2 business days. If you did not provide an email address, confirmation will be sent via postal mail. Please allow time for delivery.

I'm glad that they sent me an email about what will happen if I didn't provide them with an email contact. These people are thinkers. But I am excited for this breadmaking class.

Feels like Home

2009-12-21T21:43:00.003-07:00

I have a home! Not just a place to live, but a place that feels like home! I'm so content.
Welcome to the new abode of Maria. joining me on this adventure are Cassaundra, Sarah, Theresia, and Kerstin. We are collectively a pretty good looking, intelligent group of girls. We all either have a master's degree or are completing one- in topics as diverse as violin performance, social work, and biotechnology. You are all invited to come play with us. We are very good at playing. We are also very good at working. I moved in on Saturday amid a fair amount of confusion, because all the windows in the house got replaced last week and everything was still in disarray because of it. Consequently, after I got my room in some semblance of order, we went over the house and wiped off every surface and wall to get rid of the fine layer of dust.
Here I be and here I think I'll stay for a while. Moving every year is staring to get old- I think I'll need a pretty compelling reason to dislodge me from this house. Everybody come play!

Party Like It's 2009

2009-12-21T21:40:00.001-07:00

Hm. It just doesn't have the same ring to it that it did a decade ago.
I would like to announce that the astronomical first day of winter is today! That means that the days are now getting longer instead of shorter. This is awesome!
I can't decide if I feel like this year whipped by or if it went so slowly. Definitely a lot of things have been packed into this year, that's for sure. Here's a sampling:

Apparently no one believes me when I tell them that I have an amazing view of the Salt Lake Valley from my apartment, because no one has taken me up on the offer to come visit. Just so you can all see what you're missing, this is what I see out my window:

And, after several months, we put together a pretty cute interior, too. I'm sad that I left my cute apartment when I moved on Saturday.

Car trouble: My car is a good car, but I guess if you buy a car that's ten years old you expect to have some problems with it. Moving close to the Great Salt Lake did a serious corrosion number on my rims and after four flat tires and a freeway blowout, I caved in and bought new tires and wheels. The first flat was greeting me in the long-term parking lot of the airport when I got back from New Zealand. After 18 hours of travel, that's not a sight I was hoping to see:

Later, I failed my safety test because of burnt-out bulbs on my car and I was too cheap to have them replaced in the shop. My most excellent neighbor Daniel helped me figure out how to put the new bulbs in. It just happened to be the first day that it decided to be cold and snowy, too. But I felt great after I put new blinker bulbs in my car.

Family: always a big, important part of every year. This year the first notable family happening was the passing away of Hazle the Cat, shortly before his eighteenth birthday. I made him a little shroud out of orange fleece with cat faces on it and Michael asked to be the pallbearer:

The next big thing that happened was the return of Elder Mark Sederberg from his mission in Spain! I still can't believe I left my camera in the car when we went in to the airport, but I got some good pictures from the Park-n-Wait before we went in. Here are Laura and Tricia depicting how excited they are.

The next big thing that happened was the birth of my third nephew, Becca and Mike's third little boy. I blogged about this recently, so I'll try not to dwell on how adorable my nephews are too much. But I love them and we had fun:

The other big things are still announcements in the family- Matt and Tricia's baby and now Tim and Tina's baby will be making their debuts in 2010. As I've said before, I love being an aunt and spoiling nephews. It will be great to have some closer to home.

Smaller family happenings this year include the fact that Michael and Laura had the same hairdo for a little while:

Also, Tim continued his BeatleMania by purchasing Beatles Rock Band. We rocked out when he brought it home on Halloween. Then we watched PeeWee's Big Adventure. Tim thought it was a great night.

And, as always, my family are just kind of a crazy bunch. I like it.

What else? Every year there are weddings and wedding receptions. I attended my cousin Luke's wedding and I'll attend Meagan and Daniel's next week . . . I lose track of all the receptions I go to. I did attend one at the end of the summer for my friend and old roommate Lexie, one of the most sincerely kind people I've ever met. This is catching up with more old roommates: me, Cammie, Lindsey, and Emily.

I got to go to New Zealand, too. Although the trip didn't go quite like I'd planned, I was spoiled rotten by the very kind and engaging family that hosted me. They really went out of their way to make me feel comfortable, which I appreciate a lot. I also appreciated the amazing beauty of New Zealand.

And of course, 2009 will be ingrained in my mind forever as the year of depression. But dang it, if I can make it through what I've made it through this year, I can make it through just about anything! Bring it on, world! I'm ready for you- with my hand firmly in the hand of God. A new year, a new decade, a new phase of life. I feel like celebrating!

The Hands of the Lord

2009-12-09T19:30:00.002-07:00

Life comes and goes in strange and unexpected ways. Death still has not touched my life in very many closely personal ways, but this morning I received word on the death of someone I don't know profoundly well who has touched my life profoundly.

I've written before about my friend James Njuguna and the work he's done with a charitable organization he founded in Kenya, Fadhili Helpers, which is the group that I volunteered with while I was there. James is truly an inspiration to me, one of my role models. I didn't know him all that well while I was in Kenya, my orphanage was in a village outside of Nairobi and I didn't make it in to the Fadhili office in town very often, but the little I knew of him impressed me. In recent months, I've been collaborating with him to edit and clean up his website, and in the process, I've learned a lot about him and his dreams and drive.

James is devoutly Christian and desires more than anything to be able to raise his countrymen out of poverty, physical, mental, and spiritual. He started from scratch just a few years ago with a group of like-minded young men, believing that it was God's desire, and built a program that brings in volunteers from around the world and places them in orphanages and school. He started his own orphanage in Nairobi and has a child sponsorship program in place. He orchestrates the work of missionary groups going into the most rural parts of Kenya to preach the good news of the Gospel to the tribes that live there. All this from a man who grew up as one of the youngest children of 13, in an almost destitute house, who could only finish high school because someone donated the school fees for him.

James is funny and easygoing and happy and always looking for ways to help. And there is a big hole in my heart right now because of the news I received from Fadhili this morning.

James was on his way home last Friday- almost there, in fact- when he was accosted by a group of thugs who shot him dead and ran, apparently without even taking anything.

My friend Anena, who went to Kenya the same time I did as a volunteer, extended her stay indefinitely, and started her own NGO, knew James much better than I and wrote about her perspective and the Kenyan perspective on death on her very eloquent but not G-rated blog (Anena is one of the most fascinating people I've ever met, but some of her habits caused James to tell her sometimes that she needs Jesus- something he never felt the need to tell me. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he felt that I adhered to religion a little too much, since I'd never take chai with them). Anena knew James much better than I got the chance to, working with him very closely as she began her organization to assist women and children with AIDS. And she has exactly the same assessment of him that I do.

But, the glimmer in this tragedy is that James' work is well-enough established that Fadhili will continue to assist Kenya's orphans and streetmen and children from broken homes. Now it might be even more important, because now, on top of being a wonderful organization to help so many who cannot help themselves, it is a living monument to the life of a good, good man.

I've given thought lately to the idea that God has no hands but us- that it is critical for us to do our best to be listening for God's nudges, because often those nudges are guiding us towards someone with a need that we can help. We are the hands of the Lord when we choose to be, and we assist in blessing His children by actively serving those around us. James, you were the hands of the Lord. If your life wasn't worn out in service, it's only because you didn't live long enough to do so. You are one of my heroes, and will be forever.

Late, I know

2009-12-05T19:35:00.012-07:00

I was flipping through my photos of visiting Becca and her family in October and couldn't resist sharing, even though they're over a month old now.

Isn't this baby adorable? I'm glad I got to spend some quality time with him, especially after Becca pointed out that he looks significantly like I did at that age. No wonder we bonded.

To bond even more, here's M wearing a Halloween onesie that I decorated for him laying on the blanket I crocheted for him. Spoiling nephews is fun.

I'm not a huge fan of Southern California, but I am very jealous that a winter garden is a feasible option there. T and K and I picked out two varieties of heirloom tomatoes, basil, chives, sunflowers, and a couple of other plants to go in their balcony planters. I was drooling at the garden center.

This is T's rendition of an UNO wild card, done in UNO cards. He's a very creative kid.

At the scarecrow display at the pumpkin farm. This was one of many scarecrows created for a local competition- T and K are doing their pirate imitations to go along with the scarecrows.

K is also very creative. One afternoon he grabbed both his and T's Indiana Jones fedoras and used them to cover up his whole head because he wanted to convince me that his head was missing.

This is during the creation of a pie that T and K helped me make. Fortunately, their parents were taking an afternoon nap and I think we had most of the mess cleaned up before Becca could come see what we were doing. Piecrust with two young boys can be a very messy affair.

Another baking excursion- making pumpkin bread, I believe. K specifically wanted me to take this picture so it would look like T had two heads.

A little farther north- going to the redwoods with McKay. I believe this tree had a diameter of seventeen feet (correct me if I'm wrong, McKay)

I think I fell in love with this place.

This is McKay trying out the very naturale benches along the sides of the path

McKay and I had a debate about whether sequoias are taller than redwoods and couldn't come to a conclusion. We tried to call Josh, sometimes known as WikiJosh, so he could either tell us or look it up for us, but McKay's phone wasn't getting any reception in the forest. I guess technology can only get you so far.

Yep, any time anyone wants to go camping in the redwoods, give me a call. (But not from the redwoods, as that doesn't work).

Spread the joy

2009-12-01T21:49:00.002-07:00

Melanie and I just got involved in an in-depth discussion of music theory. The debate was why sharps and flats are both needed and why we can't just do all key signatures with sharps. After drawing out the circle of fifths and several keys and trying to transpose the key of A flat major into the key of G sharp major by just changing the notation of the flatted keys, we determined that it was because you'd have to use both C and C sharp in the same key. Which turns out to be the same reason I gave her in the start that she didn't like- the presence of double sharps, just under a different name.

That was surprisingly fun. I didn't realize that the music geek in me was so hungry to get out and play. Bless you, circle of fifths.

Remembering the big picture

2009-11-30T20:56:00.002-07:00

I got a great energy boost tonight that reminded me why I love science so much. Few things are as motivating as listening to a Nobel laureate speak- unless it's shaking his hand and speaking to him personally afterward. Wow, I feel energized.

I'm still not sure how we got this opportunity, but my stake had a combined FHE meeting tonight where we listened to Mario Capecchi, Nobel laureate for medicine and physiology for 2007 speak about his life and his science and his experience receiving his award. I highly suggest reading a little bit about his life if you want an inspirational story. I enjoyed hearing that, but I so enjoyed listening to him talk about his science, his passion. To him, science is an elegant, exciting, creative thing and it involves lots of creative thinking and reaching outside one's comfort zone and interacting with other people and doing everything you can to prevent yourself from getting so narrow in your focus that you can't see outside your own blinders. And maybe it's just that I'm also a scientist, but listening to him speak, I felt energized to plow back in to the daily grind with more enthusiasm and dedication.

Moments like these are so critical for anyone in any field- seeing the big picture and remembering why we do the small daily things that we do. As a scientist, hearing such an excellent scientist speak, or reading about great achievements, or brainstorming with colleagues or exchanging banter with friends helps me achieve that. Even more importantly, I remember the point of the entire daily grind and everything I do by going to the temple and taking the sacrament and engaging in good, deep, spiritual conversation with friends. It's amazing what you can do when you can both focus on the big picture with its excitement and thrill but at the same time keep your mind firmly on the day-to-day details that make these vistas and dreams a reality. That is a worthy life goal right there- being both farsighted and nearsighted, I suppose.

Speaking of which, I should stop philosophizing and go finish something for work that I ran out of time to complete today. The daily grind is unrelenting- but I think I'll enjoy it more with this fresh burst of energy. Hooray!

One Year Becomes Another

2009-11-22T21:45:00.002-07:00

I've been somewhat introspective all month as I've thought about how last November, I was in Kenya having all kinds of strange adventures. I've been going back and reading my journal and I'm surprised at what I've forgotten already and I'm glad I took the time to write so much of it down. Every evening after dinner while the family would gather in the living room and watch TV or chatter away in Swahili or Kikuyu, I would pull out my little, cheap writing notebook that I bought in the market my first full day in Kenya and write my experiences and impressions. One year ago today, I was driving back from the coastal town of Mombasa, the most humid, grimiest place I've ever been, to Nairobi, which is a good seven hour drive or so. This was on a bus, and it was overnight. And Kenya's roads are not paved. I don't think I really slept the whole time. Then the bus stopped and let us off in Nairobi. I got off with Jo and Emily, the other volunteers I was traveling with, and we looked around and realized that we had no idea where we were. Then a very kind taxi driver pointed out the Nairobi Hilton to us, which was a landmark for the volunteers. It was amazing how as soon as I knew where the Hilton was, I knew exactly how to get back to my village of Gathiga. I walked over to the matatu station and took the matatu back to the village. The one thing I could never figure out is why there were twenty other people who wanted to go from Nairobi towards Gathiga at 6 AM on a Sunday morning.

As I've been reading my notes from Kenya, I've also found myself flipping back through the rest of my journal, and once again, I've been surprised by what I've found. Here's a few reflections and observations I made in 2008:

April 7:
I walked back to Alta with Peter. It was kind of fun; we carried on a continuation of the conversation we’d had at the Dreamcicle. Peter is a fun guy to talk to, and it was a clear, slightly cool night, perfect for a short walk with a good conversation partner. Our conversation turned to other aspects of life, how part of the reason it’s so important to enjoy the moment is that the “moments” are usually in the minority. But then we made a pact that we would work on enjoying the moment. I told him that next time I see him, I’ll ask him how he’s coming on the goal. I hope I remember to. It should be fun.

So. Living in the moment. Also, as I’ve been continually admonished, looking at things from an eternal perspective. I had a pretty good day on Thursday;but this weekend was kind of hard again. But something else I’ve been trying to convince myself of is that it’s better to try to be your best and be inconsistent than to give up the fight and never be your best because you’re afraid of the inconsistency. Better to strive for better things and have inconsistent results than to be consistently living below your privileges. So it’s all right that I had a less than admirable weekend. I’ve felt the sweet peace of forgiveness before, I need to keep the Lord involved and trust Him.

April 27
Next time I write, I’ll fill in some gaps about new roommates, an exciting expedition to broaden my cooking horizons, and extreme sorrow and deepening faith. Tune in next time for another exciting episode of Maria’s life!

May 12
What a complicated situation. But, in any case, I’m slowly learning that if I keep my eyes on the Lord and have confidence and faith that He is the one guiding my life—and the lives of those around me—then it is much easier to be happy, and I don’t get panicky or resentful feelings welling up inside. If I take my eyes off of Him and focus on dissatisfying conditions or my own faults and foibles or anything else—if I focus on the boisterous waves of the sea, then I begin to sink, and I can no longer walk on the water. I need patience. I need to realize that as much as I so desperately want to graduate and leave, apparently that’s not what I get to do quite yet. Patience. I am ready to move on, but there must be someone who needs me here still. Do not be selfish, Maria. Give of yourself. Be patient.

June 22
One thing I hate about college life is the intense cycle of friends. You get to know people pretty well relatively quickly because there aren’t tons of pressures on your time- no family of your own to worry about. Everyone’s looking for friends. So friendships are formed quickly- and then they get interrupted quickly by graduation, marriage, moving, etc. I love all my friends now. I loved all my friends last year and the year before that and the year before that and the year before that . . . going back to my freshman year of college which was seven years ago now. It seems like I’ve spent the last four of those at least becoming good friends with people and then attending their wedding receptions.
I’m not really complaining, especially since it seems like so many of my good friends have married each other- such good friends! I love them all so much.
Maybe someday if I’m lucky, I’ll join their ranks. I kind of feel like I’m standing in the middle of a decaying sandbank- and all the sand is blowing away around me, but I’m still standing in the same place I’ve been for years. I know it’s not really true. I’ve grown and changed a whole lot since I started BYU. I sure hope I’m different now than when I was a freshman, at least. I loved my freshman year, but looking back, there are so many things I wish I’d done that I didn’t, and so many mistakes I made that I wish I hadn’t. I wish I’d figured out how to be friends with guys sooner without being weird about it. I wish I’d figured out how to live in the moment more, although that was kind of tricky since I had chronic fatigue syndrome. I wish a lot of things that I can’t change now, so I don’t worry about it too much. I think I’ve always been something of a late bloomer. I guess as long as the lessons get learned, it doesn’t matter so much when they get learned, although sooner does seem to be a little better.

June 29
Meanwhile, Danielle and I are preparing nicely for our recital. I’m excited, I think it’s going to really come off well. Danielle is going to play Claire de Lune for a solo piece, and we have six or seven numbers we’re working up where she’s accompanying me. Our rehearsals are always punctuated by interruptions when her children need attention. Jacob is two and is definitely a little mischief maker. He’s very curious and likes to explore things. A lot of time we end up putting my backpack in the bathroom because that’s the only place he can’t get to it. He’s a cute little thing though; he kind of reminds me of my brother Mark at that age. He has apparently grown rather fond of me, because the other day he asked Danielle where I was. Danielle’s sister Kim is in my ward and she had a birthday party at her parents’ house on Friday night. Danielle was there with her family, and I was rather flattered when Jacob came over to me and kind of latched on to my leg. We played Bocce ball and Jacob gave me his ball to throw. I suggested that he might wasn’t to throw it himself, but he kept giving it back to me and saying “Maria throw it.” So, I threw his ball for him.

July 8
There are so many good, fun things I want to do, though, I need to remember the counsel that just because something is good is not a good enough reason to do it. I need to be careful to fill my time with the best things, not just with good things. A Also on my list of things to do right now are become a better biker, practice voice, practice piano for the piano support group, improve at cross-stitch, finish the two skirts, top, and pair of pants that I have fabric for, transcribe Grandma’s biography tapes, and try new recipes. It’s more than enough to keep me busy. But life is full, and life is good.
Life is also tired, since it’s almost midnight. I think I’ll finish this tomorrow. Good night.

August 24
I need so many miracles in my life. Or maybe all I need is more faith. Either way, I think sometimes I get blessed a whole stinkin’ lot.

August 28
We spent the night in a beautiful meadow about four miles up the canyon. The stars were gorgeous, but not as phenomenal as they could have been because we still got a little glare from the city lights. We saw some beautiful shooting stars. It was dark when we actually got to the meadow, so it was kind of fun to wake up in the morning and discover that we’d spent the night in a meadow full of flowers.

September 14
Time keeps flying. I think another reason that I’m still in Provo is to give me a chance to really savor the experience of being in a BYU singles’ ward one last time. Every so often I’ll stop in the middle of my mad scurrying or playing or flirting and take a moment to realize just how much fun it is and how lucky I am, and I’ll drink it all in. It’s so good . . .

October 2
Funny how lucid and contemplative I’m feeling at 4:50 in the morning. I think I’ve almost run out of things to contemplate for now. But I think it’s all the contemplation that woke me up- all these thoughts about jobs and PhDs and boys being very friendly and thesis defenses and traveling alone to Africa . . . I guess I can see why I couldn’t sleep. But I’m going to try again now. Because I am pretty tired. Hopefully soon I’ll pick thins thing back up and discuss how I went to the wedding openhouse of my first date, Jason Troyna, the huge thesis revamp session with Dr. Jellen, the big breakthrough in contemporary voice singing that happened at my last voice lesson, and other fun anecdotes from the life of Maria.

October 12
We talked a little about reaching out to others to fulfill our baptismal covenants, one of which is to comfort those who stand in need of comfort. I think we all need so much comfort, so very, very much comfort. We like to think that when we grow up we’re adults, which apparently means that we’re tough and we can handle hard things and we have to be brave and mature all the time. And while it’s true that we do have to be brave and learn how to be mature and handle more than we could as children, we still are children at heart, and we need solace and comfort so much. People who deny this are numbing their feelings somehow- whether it be in alcohol or escapism literature or selfishness or greed or meanness of spirit. By doing so, they stunt their character growth, their emotional growth and spiritual development. But turning to the Lord, allowing Him to both comfort you and allow you to face the struggle or the temptation or whatever it is and successfully overcome it, is in the long run such a better option.

I can’t really remember why I originally started typing my journal instead of writing it out in hand. I fought the idea for a long time, thinking it was highly impersonal and very clinical, which it may be. But it is astounding to me how much more I write when I can get the words off my fingers so much faster. Also, the added benefit of having my journal on my jump drive, easily portable, is huge. Anytime I’m at a computer and I want to throw down some thoughts, all I have to do is pop in the jump drive and open up the Word document that contains my journal. As a result, I have an excellent document covering the last year and a half of my life, which has been a time of tremendous growth and challenges for me. It’s contained some of the sweetest and the bitterest moments of my life so far. And I have it mapped out and documented in general how I’ve grown and how I’ve fought my battles and how hard the battles have been, as well as how sweet the good times have been and how good the friends have been and how happy I’ve been. I feel pretty lucky to have this little device for keeping track of how the Lord has worked in m life.

October 26
After we walked around the riverwalk, we went back a ways to visit a little farmer’s market, where we had tacos and tamales for lunch. They were quite tasty. Then Grandma spotted the Idaho Falls temple matron- Jean Groeberg. She introduced us, and I must admit that I was kind of excited, because I love Elder Groeberg’s books. I tried to imagine all the things this woman had done and all the places she’d lived and was amazed. She was in a hurry so we didn’t talk long, but that was kind of neat.

November 2
Speaking of church, it was an experience and a half. The church Lucy attends is held in the schoolroom at the orphanage. It started with a good 20 minutes of song from the preacher, during which we all swayed and clapped. Then the next 2 ½ hours were alternating preaching, praying, and dancing. We were told repeatedly, “dance for the Lord!”
I sat on a row with Ruth the cook and three or four orphans. They held my hands and stroked my arms and rubbed my knuckles, fascinated by my light skin. They ran their fingers over my nails and laced their fingers through mine. They discovered the ring on my right ring finger and the watch on my left wrist and that kept them occupied for quite some time. When we danced, they had an amazing amount of rhythm and flair. They were also captivated by my light, curly hair. The kids seem starved for attention—affection is probably more accurate. They all want to get close and hold my hand, or lean against me, or run their fingers through my hair, or whatever.

November 5
It’s raining tonight—a real downpour. Hopefully it’s not too muddy in the morning. I bathed in the washroom and watched the lightning light up the outline of the banana trees through the small high window. I also washed my hair for the first time since my arrival. The water was full of red clay particles by the time I was done. The rain’s making me feel all cozy—I’m sure the Kenyans are freezing. They whip out winter coats at the slightest sign of rain or cold—usually while I’m busy enjoying the slightly cool turn in the weather. Bless them.

November 8
I think I’ll postpone the rest of what I was going to write. It’s late, and the power generator just went off. Tomorrow apparently we’re going to the crocodile and hippo pond. Could be exciting!

November 15
9:30 AM- wow. Talk about being out of one’s comfort zone. I’m taking breakfast by myself at a little downtown hole-in-the-wall café. I’m pretty sure the staff dislikes me for being white and not speaking Swahili. Also, they may think I’m crazy for ordering both eggs and French toast. And I have a huge, burning mug of Milo to consume before I can leave. Of course, it’s not like my meal has arrived yet anyway—African time. We’re all operating on African time.
Oh, good the French toast just arrived and looks more or less like I anticipated.

November 16
On a different note, it’s Sunday in Nairobi and the house is pretty quiet. Most of Regina’s family went to church, some of the new volunteers went to the animal orphanage, and Anina, Ollie, Brandon, and Cynthia just left to Nakumatt and such. So I have a quiet house to myself for now for Sunday—except for the drum that someone’ been pounding for the last half hour, the music and chanting coming up from the streets, and the occasional noise from a crow, a rooster, and a turkey. Unfortunately, my ipod is dead. A little Sunday music would do wonders for the atmosphere. Oh, well. At least it’s pretty quiet.

November 18
The other night, I showed Lucy a picture of my family. She was impressed with the size of it and asked questions about different family members. I mentioned somehow that Dad was a bishop, the leader of our congregation for a while. So Lucy started asking me more questions about my religion. She knows I don’t drink tea because of my religion, but she asked me if I believe in salvation, and Jesus Christ and God and some other things and she finally concluded that we believe the same things except for the bit about tea. I tried to explain to her things like living prophets and the Book of Mormon, but I don’t think she quite caught the significance. But she is a very good woman.

It really was quite the year, 2008. I'm glad I wrote down a lot of those things because I forgot just how much contemplation I did. Although I still do a lot of contemplating, so I'm not sure why that surprises me . . . and hey, look, it's getting late, so I'll end now, in case anyone read through this whole thing. Thanks for playing!

Laughter's medicinal properties

2009-11-16T21:28:00.002-07:00

Today I was having an okay day, but a kind of blah day. Just not quite so on top of things as I would like. It was far too easy to rationalize not working out after work since I had to prepare a dish for our ward FHE Thanksgiving dinner. In fact, I was feeling blah enough for a little while that I wondered if I even wanted to go to the dinner at all. I knew I should and I knew I would have fun, but it seemed like too much effort.

Then Mel came home and we started cracking lame jokes and laughing at our silly senses of humor. This had the amazing effect of revitalizing me to the point where I was eager to go to the activity. I went with some friends and met up with other friends while I was there and laughed heartily at stories that my friends told me about Seth, the ward prankster, and laughed with my friend Chad, even though we were talking about the two staff infections he's had this fall, and laughed with Daniel when he was investigating the dessert table and wanted to know if a certain dish was a torte, even though he's a lawyer and should know these things himself, and laughed with Meagan when I was talking about the sensory experience she was having eating her bread pudding but the word that came out of my mouth wasn't "sensory," but "sensual," and laughed even more when Meagan told me how she was waiting for Daniel in his apartment last week and jumped out to scare him when she heard someone coming, but it turned out that it was my roommate Amy and not Daniel, and Amy was so weirded out that she just turned and walked into our apartment without saying anything to Meagan at all. And now I don't feel blah any more. The blahness has been purged right out of my system by the laughter. It's like a pollutant has been removed. Today, I am grateful for laughter shared with good friends.

The future beckons

2009-11-15T21:26:00.002-07:00

I'm backtracking today. Yesterday's thanks item got supplanted at the last minute, but today I'm still grateful for amazing books- but more than that, I'm grateful that for whatever reason, Heavenly Father let me come to earth into my set of circumstances. Not only do I know how to read, I have a multiplicitude of books at my very fingertips- on my bookshelf, at the library, on the internet. Even in today's world, that combination is much rarer than it should be.
I took a good chunk of time to get through school (although I guess I did get two degrees one on top of the other, so it's better than it sounds), and I miss school a lot. I miss the feeling of actively engaging my mind, and, to prove what a nerd I am, I miss the rush I would get from really effective study sessions with the pressure of a test coming up. I miss the feeling of satisfaction I got from having mastered a concept and gloating over it like a prized possession.
However, I am so happy that the tools for learning are still readily available at my fingertips, and although I can definitely tell a difference in the dedication and quality involved when I'm not actively enrolled in classes, part of what I look forward to doing my whole life is expanding my mind. I'm so thankful that I get to!

Warmth of Spirit on a Cold Night

2009-11-14T23:14:00.002-07:00

Earlier today, I was thinking that the Daily Gratitude Award would be going to the excellent books I've been reading lately, but I just got back from a great evening at the house I'll be moving into in a month and a half, and now, I'm just grateful that I have good friends in Salt Lake who seem to want me to move in with them as much as I do, and I'm looking forward to all the good times that are ahead. There's something about an environment that's filled with love and happiness that fills my soul like a parched sponge, which is probably the case for most people. And it's been a little while since I've lived in a situation like that. I like being an independent adult, but I don't like being so independent that my life is separated out from the people I live with, which has been the case for almost a year. It's a rather lonesome feeling. I'm ridiculously excited to be living with girls who pray together and sometimes eat dinner together and are a united group.

So, the future beckons brightly. The warmth of friendship is still making me happy- I'm so grateful that Meagan is getting married so I can move in with her roommates!

Contemplation Incurs Gratitude (and vice versa)

2009-11-13T17:07:00.002-07:00

Seeing as how Thanksgiving is in less than two weeks, it's hard to go a day without hearing some kind of reference to, well, giving thanks. I often try to make a daily entry in either my regular journal or my thought journal about something that happened that day that I'm grateful for, or just something I'm grateful for, period (as an aside, this was actually one of my strongest tools when battling depression earlier this year. It's amazing to look back and read how many good things still happened and how many people were helping me out, even unintentionally). I love the perk I get by thinking about things that make me happy. In fact, I've often placed myself if a slightly awkward situation by thinking about funny things that make me grin, and then the next thing I know, I've started chuckling about a joke that only I'm in on.

But, all that aside, I've been trying really hard to steer away from patented things to be grateful for, like "family and friends," "the miracle of modern medicine," "education," "a good job," etc. The reason for this is not that I'm not grateful for these things, but rather that I don't want my gratitude to become rote. So, instead of looking at the huge, overarching blessings that cover so much, the joy becomes so much greater when thinking about the small, individual parts of these big wholes, which is what I've been striving to focus on.

Today's gratuity, because I like to misuse that word, is all the amazing different kinds of food I have access to. Since I studied plant biology in college, I got a taste of agronomy and was surprised to learn that the world lives substantially off of about eight different crops, including rice, wheat, corn, soy, potato, cassava, barley, and a couple others that aren't coming to me at the moment. It's understandable why these plants provide so much of the basic nutrition, they're generally inexpensive to grow and produce large quantities, and they're good carbohydrate bases to the diet. However, thanks both to globalization and some amazing horticultural practices, we have at our fingertips so many other kinds of food. I confess, I do get stuck in a rut more often than I'd like and my meals go through bouts of consisting of frozen burritos and nachos, but I do get unduly excited when I purchase something new at the store or make a foray to the Asian market. This week I enjoyed tabouli, quinoa, couscous, an awesome dish of sauteed vegetables with fried eggs mixed in, tangerines, spinach salad, mashed potatoes, and pomegranite seeds. I'm feeling pretty good this week. One of the things that I love about trying new foods is that it can be done from the comfort of my own home. Anyone have any awesome suggestions for new things I can try, since that's the gratitude topic of the day?

2n = 4X = 36

2009-11-10T21:45:00.000-07:00

I know it’s a good day when I find fresh evidence that I am a nerd. A very special kind of nerd, although all nerds are special.

Today as I sat at my desk counting the bands on chromosomes, I found my mind wandering somewhat as I pondered on the fact that different organisms have different numbers of chromosome, yet it is generally a pretty significant and devastating thing to either gain or lose a chromosome. So how did this evolution of chromosome number differences occur?

I tell you what, I’m going to have a front-row seat in the theater when they play the premiere of “The History of Biology” on the big-screen in heaven.

Commemoration

2009-11-09T23:26:00.002-07:00

Why is it that on the nights I really want to go to bed early I end up staying late?

But since I'm still up, I'll wish myself a happy anniversary.

Two years ago, I received my endowment in the temple.

One year ago I was in the Masai Mara in Kenya.

Today? Today I started the morning with some service, and went to work. Both of these are part of my lifelong quests to be worthy of the temple covenants I've made and to be able to go on more adventures. Life is a pretty big adventure.

Forward in Faith- Even When You're Laying Facedown on the Strait and Narrow and Think You'll Never Get Up Again

2009-11-07T17:29:00.002-07:00

This is going to be challenging to write, and I've pondered over writing it for a while now. I've pondered whether or not it even ought to be written, but I feel that it does need to be written.

Last Sunday, I listened to President Uchtdorf's excellent CES fireside. One part in particular caught my attention. He read a question from a young member of the church explaining that this person often felt depressed and thought about ending their life. President Uchtdorf touched briefly on the fact that these are serious issues that ought to be taken care of with the help of trusted church and professional helpers. I want to spend a little longer on the topic of depression, which I'm becoming more and more aware of as a serious concern, especially for members of the church, because it isn't very well understood.

I'm becoming more aware of this because I've been there.

I'm not sure who out there needs to read this or see this, but I know that I've felt strongly that I need to write on this topic. The main thing that concerns me about Latter-day Saints and depression is that this one thing is so poorly understood: depression is a real, real, physical disease. The thing that makes it unique is that it is a physical disease with emotional symptoms. I feel that that point is so important that I'm going to repeat it: depression is an actual, physical illness that has emotional symptoms. And in a gospel that emphasizes a personal relationship with God that can be measured by feeling the presence of the Holy Ghost, depression can be especially devastating. The Lord speaks to us most of the time through our feelings, and a depressed mind is so biochemically mixed up that it simply isn't getting those impressions like it used to.

What so many people, including up until recently myself, have trouble realizing, is that this ought not be considered any different than any other physical illness in terms of treatment- and how the person ought to view him or herself. A person with diabetes has chemical imbalances that need to be treated and monitored if the person is going to live a normal life. A person with depression has chemical imbalances that also need to be treated, and I can't tell you how grateful I am that we live in an age when this is understood by medical professionals at least, and there are wonderful treatments available for it.

I consider myself fortunate in many respects- I'm almost healed, and as I get farther and farther from the darkest days, I can see better and better that although I wouldn't go through this year again for all the wealth of the world, as I read more and learn more and peruse the experiences of others, I've been so very, very blessed. However, like so many other members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I have learned the hard way that depression has devastating symptoms.

Please, please note that I am not talking about pessimism, cynicism, mourning, or even deep sorrow that comes from hard times. I'm talking about a dark, dark, unnatural feeling that seems to sap one's ability to feel joy or even remember that there's such a thing as joy. I'm talking about nights laying with one's head buried under the pillow because the thought of living for another fifty or sixty years is terrifying. I'm talking about curling up in a ball and wondering if you've has lost your testimony completely, because you're desperately reaching out for God and you can't find Him anywhere. I'm talking about despair so deep that I have a new, significantly deepened appreciation for the Atonement- because I've felt, more than I ever had before in my life, what it was like to be separated from God, which is the definition of spiritual death, which the Atonement saves us from. For a different angle, one person I talked to described it as the feeling you might get near a demetor, from the Harry Potter series, which I think is fairly accurate.

See the difference between depression and just normal doldrums or sadness? I doubt that anyone who knows me well would call me cynical or pessimistic- but I've been depressed. What I hope you also see is that it is entirely unrelated to one's actual spiritual status, regardless of what goes on inside your head. I have entries from my journal written last winter where I poured out my frustration that I was doing the best I could, I was doing everything right, as it were, reading my scriptures, praying so long that I often fell asleep on my knees, going to the temple as though it were a life raft, and I had never felt farther from Heavenly Father.

However, the other reason, and more important reason, I think I need to write this is that as much as depression is not a sign of unworthiness or weakness, the even better news is that it is actually a highly treatable illness. As I mentioned, I feel very fortunate in my experience, and a big part of that is that within a few months, I was working with an excellent doctor who has helped me get on a track to healing, including both cognitive work through reading books, and medication. I'm also very fortunate that the first medication I was given was very effective; I know that not everyone is so fortunate. As the year continued and more challenges occurred, I decided on my own to start working with a therapist to arm myself more effectively from any kind of large relapse, and I've also been very fortunate to work with an excellent woman here in Salt Lake. In fact, she co-authored a book about depression specifically for LDS women. I would recommend it to anyone dealing with depression or dealing with someone who is depressed: "Reaching for Hope," by Betsy Chatlin and Meghan Decker.

So, here I am, with the help of so many others, climbing out of the other side of my own personal valley of the shadow of death, and I'm sure that there are many, many others, probably even some that I know, who are still wandering lost in this valley, fearing that the rest of their lives will be lived with this feeling of darkness and despair. And I'm writing this to tell you that it's not true, and it doesn't need to be so. And if you can be brave and move forward, which I know is so, so hard to do when you're depressed, you can receive good, professional help, and become the person you used to be, the person that you feel is lost, but who I assure you is still there.

I don't claim to be any kind of expert, but I can promise to be a completely nonjudgmental shoulder to cry on and to some extent at least the beginning of a road map of how to get out of the valley. I don't even have any idea who I'm writing this to or for, but if anyone happens to read this who thinks they may be going through what I've described, whoever you are, I want to help you. Send me an email, give me a call, or at the very least, read this and know that you're not alone. I promise that God is still there and He's still watching over you. And that's the truth.

Mishaps and adventures

2009-10-28T21:46:00.002-06:00

After spending a week with T and K and their parents, I flew up to San Francisco and spent the weekend visiting McKay, who has returned to his original haunts of Palo Alto (yes, McKay, I know that's not where you're originally from, but it's close enough). I spent some time talking with T and K after I tucked them in bed on Friday night and I was very gratified that they were so sad that I was leaving in the morning. T told me that when he thought about it, he got a lump in his throat that wouldn't go away. Can I keep him? We agreed to be penpals so it wouldn't be so sad for me to leave. Speaking of which, I need to write him a letter this week.

The funniness started when I arrived at the San Francisco airport and McKay and I had some trouble meeting up. Turns out that Jetblue is the only domestic airline that uses the international terminal. Good thing McKay stopped and asked someone about this, or he may have been driving in circles for a lot longer while I chilled and watched lots of other people get picked up. But eventually, my luggage and I were happily situated in his car.

The plan was for me to explore San Francisco on my own for the day since McKay had to work, so he drove me as far into town as he could before needing to turn back around to be on time. This was where the second bit of funniness started. I hadn't been able to find out as much about public transit from the internet as I wanted and McKay wasn't very familiar with it, so we started just driving around looking for bus stations and things. We saw one and so McKay figured that was as good a place to drop me off as any, so he pulled into a randomly selected parking lot and left me to my adventure. Five years ago I would have died. Now, I looked for an ATM machine so I could pay a bus fare. Then I found a nearby gas station so I could buy some overpriced juice and a rice krispy bar, use the facilities, and ask the nice woman working there how I could get to Fisherman's Wharf. She kindly pointed me towards the correct bus stop and bus, which when it arrived, proved to the be the bus that also went through Chinatown. I could tell because I was one of about three white people on the bus.

I love the challenge of exploring new cities on my own, but there's always that moment or two when I look around me and wonder if I've walked into the wrong part of town. That's always a little disconcerting. I felt mostly safe in San Francisco since I was mostly staying in tourist areas, but after I left my matinee of Wicked (which I was very late for because of the way the cable cars are run- is it really necessary to stop in the middle of every intersection while the cars honk at you?), I walked to the train depot and definitely felt just a hair unsafe. Fortunately, I didn't make eye contact with the shady men and since I walk fast, they must have thought I looked confident. Or maybe they're really very nice men who just happen to look shady. Who knows?

McKay and I went on a very fun double date- he set me up with one of his friends (I just realized that short of when I was dating David this summer, every date I've been on this year has been blind. I'm not sure what that means. At least they haven't been deaf). Turns out that my date is a bookworm like me and is a teacher, so we talked a lot about books. He also quoted some T.S. Eliot poetry for us. I commend McKay for his choice of gentleman.

The other funny mishap happened after the date when McKay tried to drop me off that the house of girls that he'd arranged for me to stay at and no one answered the door or responded when he texted them all. Since it was almost midnight and I'd been up since 4:30 to catch a plane, in the end I just went back to the family house where he's living and crashed in the guest bedroom. Good thing we're not BYU students any more. Heh.

I must also commend McKay for his choice of activity on Monday before I left. Knowing that I am a botany nerd, we drove up to the redwoods and had a great hike through them. Technically it can't really be called a hike since we didn't really increase elevation at all. But that's hardly relevant. It was really an amazing experience to walk through those massive, tall, silent trees with amazing ferns and things growing in their underbrush. McKay and I thought of all kinds of neat analogies that can be taken from a redwood forest. Maybe I'll type them up later.

Now I am safely reinstated in Utah, and I was greeted the morning after I got back by snow. Toto, we are not in California any more. I hope Becca and her boys enjoy the winter garden I helped them plant, because there aren't going to be any more gardens here this year, that's for sure.

Ruminations upon October

2009-10-28T20:16:00.002-06:00

I decided something. I am incredibly fortunate to have lots of good examples of men in my life- not just good examples of men, but examples of good men in good relationships. There's my dad, to start, and my big brother Matt, both of whose marriages I admire a lot. This past month I saw again what a great guy my brother-in-law is, too. He gets up early for work and makes breakfast for his family, even though most mornings he's gone before they get up for the day. He's super supportive of my sister and is very involved in his sons' lives. He's a great father and husband, and a great example to me of what kind of man I want to marry.

I've discussed this topic quite a bit with Mel, and it's interesting how much our individual opinions of men and marriage have been shaped by our different life experiences. Mel has had essentially no good examples of manhood in her life, including men she's related to as well as men she's dated. She is quite happy being single and claims to be happier single than she ever has been in any relationship. Consequently, she is not looking to do any dating, let alone think about getting married, in the near future. She's had such poor experiences that she jokingly refers to herself as a man-hater. She's a great roommate and a good friend, but I have a hard time talking to her about boys, because any time a guy does anything foolish or that causes me heartache, she's inclined to chalk it straight up to the fact that men are all flawed by nature and you really shouldn't expect more than that. She readily acknowledges that there are some good men out there, but she just hasn't seen enough of them up close and personal to have real faith in them.

I can't tell you how fortunate I feel that this has not been my experience. I've definitely been agitated, frustrated, saddened, and heartbroken by men, but I've never been abused in any way, be it physical or emotional, and I've been so blessed to be related to a great set of men as well as very blessed to have, especially in the last few years, some male friends whose friendships make me feel very fulfilled, a couple romantic, mostly platonic. I'm not sure how many of them read my blog, but you know who you are- and thanks for adding so much richness to my life. I have all kinds of fascinating conversations with my guy friends, and I often find it surprisingly easy to be very open with them. Of course, I would be thrilled to have a guy friend who could become my best friend to the point that we'd want to spend the rest of our lives together, but I'm pretty sure that will happen with time. In the meanwhile, oh, am I so grateful for all the good men I know who have done so much to keep my positive and optimistic viewpoints about men and marriage alive and well. Thanks, friends!

Nephews

2009-10-18T22:26:00.004-06:00

I must say, there are very few things that melt my heart like having my adorable nephews throw their arms around me and say, "And Aunt Maria, I love you, Aunt Maria." Maybe it won't be quite so adorable when they're older, but at ages five and seven, it's pretty stinkin' cute.

And I am lucky enough to be spending a week with Becca and her family to dote upon my nephews and meet the newest one, little M, who was born just six weeks ago. In the morning, I am roused from sleep either by T cuddling up to me or K running across the floor and launching himself at me. I unintentionally addicted them to electronic solitaire- I never thought about it before, but it's a great game for kids, just lining up the cards in order.

Other highlights so far: T and K are both seriously addicted to Indiana Jones, which is interesting since neither of them have actually seen the films. But they love their Indiana Jones lego sets and theirs Indiana Jones lego video game, which they have played with me several times. In fact, they both wanted to be Indiana Jones for Halloween, and they got their costumes the day before I arrived. When T and Mike came to pick me up from the airport, T was sporting his outfit. I was pretty excited that Indiana Jones came to pick me up from the airport.

Also, K was singing to himself in the tub last night. He was alternating between singing the Indiana Jones theme song and singing the Pledge of Allegiance. You didn't know it could be set to music, did you? When I stepped into the bathroom while he was still in the tub, he recited the whole thing for me and made sure at the end that I knew it was the Pledge of Allegiance he'd just recited, and told me that he's learned a lot of things in Kindergarten. I was duly impressed.

And M is a very cute baby. He is a great napper and he's pretty patient for the most part, although he can be incredibly sad when he hasn't eaten for a while. Becca says that he reminds her of Wilbur the pig from Charlotte's Web- he's small and round and he makes little grunting noises. Hooray for cute babies!

Random work notes

2009-10-12T22:16:00.000-06:00

A few days ago I walked into the bathroom closely behind another woman. There are four stalls, and the woman ahead of me proceeded to completely ignore the three stalls whose doors were slightly ajar in order to walk directly to the one stall whose door was firmly shut and try to push it open. Oddly enough, it didn’t budge, almost like someone was already in there. She seemed mildly confused, and I quickly entered a stall of my own and shut the door so that if I happened to be grinning or even chuckling quietly, this poor woman wouldn’t hear me.

Of course, I’m not free myself from silly mental lapses.Just this morning after swiping my badge on the time clock, I started up the stairs while busily engaged in trying to disentangle something from my badge so I could put it on. I should know by now not to do things like that on the stairs, because the next thing I knew my foot came down well in front of where the stair was and I did a graceful little stumble for someone else who was coming down the stairs. When I do dumb things like that, I automatically laugh at myself, and it came out as a rapid-fire burst this time, causing the person passing me to give me a startled look. Hey, whatever it takes to enter the office with a smile on my face, I guess. There’s something about small, absurd situations that has always made me laugh. The trick is to be paying enough attention to what’s going on around you that you notice them.

The client services department are situated right near my desk, and I walk past their tiny little stations a few times a day. I’m kind of fascinated by them. It rather seems to me that a lot of them are still stuck in high school mode. They regularly put up elementary school style decorations, they just started putting up their Halloween ornaments and to be honest I’m kind of jealous. Why doesn’t R&D provide us with Xeroxed copies of pumpkins and bats to color and cut out and hang up outside our cubicles? Or better yet, in our labs? Perhaps I shall just have to take the initiative for myself and hang up my own Halloween decorations.

More plays than you can shake a spear at

2009-10-03T21:56:00.006-06:00

I got my share of Shakespeare this summer. It started with The Comedy of Errors at the summer Shakespearean Festival in Cedar City with Michael and Angi. It continued at BYU with a condensed version of The Tempest with Matt and Tricia. And the most recent addition was last weekend, viewing The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged) at the Fall Shakespearean Festival with Daniel and Meagan.

Since we didn't know quite what to expect for this play, I read synopses of all the plays I wasn't familiar with the day before. We all brought our copies of The Complete Works of Shakespeare and on the trip down, we reviewed all the plays on the way down. We did really well on the comedies and okay on the tragedies, although I must say that I had never heard of Titus Andronicus before, and it has perhaps the goriest plot I've ever read about. But that's probably not saying much since the number of PG-13 movies I've seen is pretty small, and that's generally the goriest I get. Then we got to the histories and we were swimming in a lot of plot that we weren't sure about. But we felt like we had a decent hand on it by the time we rolled into Cedar City.

We were a little dismayed to discover that the playwright of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged) thought that part of the hilarity of Shakespeare that needed to be included in the play was his sexual jokes that are often so buried in Elizabethan English that modern audiences don't pick up on it- which was rather disappointing and took a good deal of the enjoyment out of it for us. I know Shakespeare put a lot of that in his work, but I for one do not mind that it goes right over my head in the originals. I did enjoy their retelling of Romeo and Juliet and their five-minute version of Hamlet, followed by the one-minute version of Hamlet, followed by the five-minute version backwards. The comedies were all compiled in one super-comedy, since so many of them have similar elements- big storms, identical twins, cross-dressing, people falling in love with the wrong people . . . it's not too hard to get them confused. And the histories? Played out as a football game. These guys were clever. And I did enjoy it overall.

We also took a look around at the gift shop and we found this special gem (if you can't read the box, click to enlarge):

That's right, unicorns versus narwhals. You didn't know the unicorn had a natural enemy in the narwhal, did you? It makes sense- the land-based unicorn going at it with an arctic whale? I guess since they with have one horn, they each feel the other is a threat. Or something. But apparently this rivalry has been going on for a while, as you can see on the back:

This time . . . it's personal. If the kit had been a little cheaper, I would definitely have come home with this prize. As it was, we just took pictures so we can enjoy the memory.

We also tried on the Renaissance hats they had there to help us get in a Shakespearean mood:

We also explored the themed statue garden and tried our hand at impersonating different characters. Daniel does a mean King Lear:

My statue was labeled as Juliette. As a sappy, overhormonal thirteen-year-old, she's not my favorite Shakespearean heroine, but Meagan pointed out that I could pick out any other heroine I wanted- after all, what's in a name? So, this is me being . . . Beatrice. Although the pose is all wrong for Beatrice. It probably fits Miranda better. Or Ophelia, but I think I'd like to be Ophelia even less than Juliette. In any case, I posed, and Daniel took the picture.

Meagan and I agreed that the best thing we got out of this trip was an increased desire to learn more about the Bard's plays and see more well-done, traditional Shakespeare. After all, he did write a good many plays that I've never seen or read, and sicne I do own his complete works, I need to get a move on!

And the seasons turn

2009-09-22T21:53:00.002-06:00

Yesterday was the first day of Fall- and it felt like it, too. For FHE, we had a clothing drive. I was assigned to go pick up clothing from a set of streets up in the foothills with my friends Netti and Dan. The houses were instructed to leave clothing out on the porch in bags for us to take, and apparently not many of the big, ritzy, multimillion-dollar houses we checked have spare clothing laying around, because I think we gathered two bags total. But several of the houses were designed so that we couldn't see the porch from the street, so Netti and I got a good workout by walking up lots of steep driveways.

The view of the valley from my balcony, while amazing, has nothing on the view from the streets higher in the foothills. The sunset was turning the whole sky pink and the city lights were starting to twinkle beneath the orange clouds and the sliver of moon that got brighter and brighter as the sun got farther away. And for the first time, I felt the crispness in the air that made me think of warm pumpkin treats and apple cider and playing frisbee in the refreshingly cool air and the invigorating, laughing feeling that seems to be so easy to feel when the leaves are vibrantly red and it's just cold enough that having a jacket to snuggle in is a pleasant thought. Bring it on, Autumn, I'm ready for you.

On a completely different note, my friend Daniel who lives across the hall from me got his results back from taking the bar this last Thursday (he got the results on Thursday- he took the test back in July. I think I would die of suspense if I had to wait that long to get results back from such a big test). To celebrate, Megan decorated his door with notes of congratulations and candy bars, and most of the notes and candy are still hanging on the door. I don't know how- or why- he does it. I can tell you though, sometimes when I walk past his door after a long day at work, the Butterfingers bar starts to look mighty tempting . . . next time I go to visit him I might have to ask him to take everything off the door to preserve my integrity.

Weekend notes

2009-09-20T22:12:00.002-06:00

All weekends should be this good.
It started on the right note with a condensed version of The Tempest at BYU with Matt and Tricia, followed up by a fun evening at their home. Instead of driving back to Salt Lake late (which I have done many times but prefer not to), I stayed at the family house and had a fun midnight conversation with Dad, which I've done more the last few months than any other time in my life, including when I was a teenager. I went to bed a lot earlier when I was a teenager. Something's wrong here.

Saturday morning was Lyndsey's baby shower in Salt Lake. I'm very excited for Lyndsey to have a baby next month but I'm selfishly sad that I won't get to see her at work any more while she's on maternity leave. Who am I going to joke around with in R&D? Everyone should get along with their coworkers as well as Lyndsey and I get along- J dubbed us the R&D twins a while ago because he never saw us apart. That was mostly because when I was training Lyndsey had to show me everything, but we do enjoy the times when we're in the lab together and we can talk while we work.

Since most of the people at the shower were from the clinical lab and they mostly do fluorescence in situ hybridization, abbreviated FISH, the party had a fish theme which was great. There were big fish drawn on butcher paper up on the walls of the house and Swedish fish to eat and we played the game where you go fishing and get a prize depending on what fish you catch. By far the best baby shower I've been to.

At the shower, Em invited me to go to Epic Summer 2009, a film festival featuring short films that people put together about their epic summers. It was fun to watch- I especially enjoyed a film called "Superfly" which featured a sport where people use windpower from giant parachute-kite devices to get some good speed and serious air on skis. It reminded me of kiteboarding, a similar sport that David introduced me to this summer where the kite is used to power someone on a surfboard (and when I say he introduced me to it, I mean he told me about it, not that I tried it). It was fun, but it also brought slight pangs as I realized that summer is almost over and I don't feel like I did anything epic. But that's not really true- I went to New Zealand and had some very unexpected "adventures" there, I climbed Timpanogos for the first time, and I've had some other adventures that don't really belong on a public blog . . . not the kind I would ever have asked for but I think I've done well with them.

Anyway, today was a great day for reminding me that I love the people in my ward. I'm the chorister in Relief Society, which doesn't give me huge opportunities to meet people through my calling, so I decided a while ago that part of being the chorister is to make people happy while they're singing the hymns. Consequently, I try to smile and make eye contact with as many people as I can while I'm conducting, and it's interesting to me how many people don't ever look up during toe songs. It's also interesting to me how many people look either bored or glum. So I'm hoping that if they happen to look up and see me beaming at them, it will cheer them up and give them reason to think about the words they're singing and realize how powerful the messages in the hymns are. This also works to my advantage because when I meet girls in the ward, they often will say, "oh yeah, I see you leading the music in Relief Society," and it makes me glad that I smile when I'm up there so it gives them a favorable first impression of me. I would love to be known in the ward as the girl who's always smiling.

After church, we had a ward mingle (singles' wards are great) where we were served snow cones and cotton candy. Don't ask me why. I have no idea. It was kind of entertaining- I don't know the last time I had a snow cone. But I did today! So I can check that off my list of things to do for the summer. Kids, summer is winding down and it's both sad and exciting. Change is always sad and exciting. But I'm trying to hard to focus on the exciting aspect of it and let go of the sorrow. What's in the past is done and can't be changed- all we can do is look to the future and use the past as a springboard for a good future. And I think the future will be good.

Furniturially challenged

2009-09-17T18:07:00.002-06:00

A bed! I have a bed! This is an exciting week.
Now, for those of you getting a strange image in your heads, I have not been sleeping on the ground. But I have been sleeping on a mattress on the ground . . . since January. For whatever reason, purchasing furniture has just been at the bottom of my to-do list for a long time. But a few weeks ago I decided that sleeping on a mattress is very teenage-esque, and since I haven't been a teenager for a good bit now, I should probably stop impersonating one and buy a bedframe. So, I am now the owner of a very nice, very sturdy loft bed.

Think miniature bunkbed. It's four feet high, giving me plenty of space to store things under it. The boxes along the wall are now tucked neatly under my bed and the room feels much more open and organized. Or at least it will after I haul the junk pile out and vacuum and Melanie does her laundry. But considering how messy we've been lately, this is a big step forward and I am pleased.

Last night was my first night up off the ground. I had Mel take a picture of me on it that I might upload here after I get my camera to a computer that will acknowledge its existence. But I must say, actually sitting on that bed with its little ladder and the guard to keep the mattress from falling off made me feel kind of like I was ten and I was back on the old bunk beds at home. So I guess instead of being mature enough to have a bed, I actually regressed. Huh.

Now the only thing lacking is to replace my plastic shelving unit with a real dresser. Then I'll really be grown up. And the room should look even tidier without the visual of my jeans and socks flopped on their shelves. This growing up business is very complicated. And it's taking a lot longer than I think it's supposed to. But that's not entirely in my control- so I'll be content to be 26 with a loft bed and a shelf set for a dresser. It's not a bad life.

Places on my block

2009-09-14T23:08:00.002-06:00

-Sushi Bar
-Dry Cleaner
-Smoke Accessory and Hookah Supply Shop
-India Gift Shop
-State Liquor Store
-Pet Day Spaw (sic)

I'm kind of intrigued by this. The only one I've frequented is the sushi bar, which is pretty tasty. If anyone needs any hookah supplies, I can point you in the right direction.

Culture . . . and not yogurt, either

2009-09-13T22:46:00.002-06:00

I coerced Josh into going with me to the Greek Festival in Salt Lake yesterday, hosted by the Greek Orthodox Church. It both sated and fed my travel bug. I've never been to Greece or anywhere close by- although the front of the program stated, "It's just like being there!" So I guess I have kind of been to Greece now . . . by going to 3rd West in Salt Lake. Josh was a great person to go with since he also likes the kind of nerdy intellectual conversation that I thrive on, so we discussed Greece and how different cultures influence each other and after we got a lecture inside the cathedral about the history of the church and the symbolism that goes into their cathedrals, we pondered the similarities between the Greek Orthodox Church and the Latter-day Saints, including similarities between cathedrals and temples.

We also partook of some dang good Greek food, all of which can be well described as savory and potent. We both made horrible faces after biting into very strong olives and I did a repeat performance when I tried chomping down on a chunk of feta cheese. However, I discovered that grape leaf wraps and spinach pie are both very tasty and if I'm brave, I might just try my hand at one or both of them sometime. Josh also professed an interest in trying to cook some Greek cuisine, aided by the fact that there were recipes included in the program. Excellent! We did turn down the opportunity to have a lamb dinner straight from the lamb carcass roasting on a spit, though. Josh thought that college apartments should be equipped with spits.

We spent some time discussing the geography of the central part of Eurasia and I discovered that I, at least, am a little shaky on how everything fits together in there. Which is why I've begun reading books about places like Greece and Turkey and Afghanistan, which, yes, I am aware is a little further east. I'm not sure why I'm so very hungry to learn about the world, but it seems to have taken firm root inside of me and I fear there's no going back. I wonder what other cultural festivals I can track down in Salt Lake? Hmmm.

A curious mind

2009-09-07T10:05:00.001-06:00

Last night Michael and I were playing Uno. Partway through, completely out of the blue, he asked me, "So, what exactly is a gargoyle?"

We believe in constant learning, I tell you what.

The random events of Labor Day Weekend

2009-09-05T22:40:00.002-06:00

I know that Labor Day weekend is only a third over, but it's already been kind of an unusual one. Once again, I am writing late at night and once again I am very tired. This seems to be a common theme in my life. My journal is full of entries that note that they would be much longer if I wasn't writing so late- and since my entries are usually a couple of typed pages long, I sometimes wonder what else I was planning on putting that was so much more extensive.

In any case, the best word for this weekend, chosen by Tricia, is random. Lots of things that weren't really planned and have made for a random and interesting time.

It started last night with a family dinner and a viewing of the movie Condorman. It's a great old show from the early 80's about a comic book writer who believes in acting out his comics so they're authentic, and in the process manages to get himself involved with the CIA in a major defection of a Russian agent. Matt describes it as James Bond for kids- less intense and very clean, and very funny. It was a favorite of his growing up, and it's loaded with nostalgia.

Today I spent several hours cajoling a teenage boy into cleaning his room, which was a serious job. We spent a good amount of time sorting, throwing away, vacuuming, washing, dusting, and tidying, but I am personally quite pleased with the results, although part of it was rather like pulling teeth. Meanwhile, Matt, Tricia, Grandma, Dad, and Mom were busy continuing the grand project of going through all the stuff in the house and eliminating unnecessary items. It's amazing what we've trimmed down this way- and also the nostalgia that we've unearthed. Last weekend, for example, I cleaned out a large filing cabinet with Mom and found lots of newspaper clippings, pictures, and notes that brought back lots of memories. I also found all kinds of great Homemaking papers that made me giggle quite a bit, including a list of 68 things for children to do besides fight. The first item on the list, interestingly enough, was to argue. Some of the ideas were cute, but most of them left me scratching my head or laughing out loud.

But I digress. Today's task was mainly sorting through books in the basement. We take our books seriously in our family, and there are plenty of them. Many of the ones we saw today are ones that belong to my dad, but that he hasn't seen for several years. There were many exclamations of "Oh! Look at that!" It was almost as good as getting the books for the first time.

Then I gave a rat a bath. This rat is a pet rat, though, so it's all good. Michael cleaned out Salt's cage while I placed her in the tub and listened to her squeak in protest while I poured warm water over her and soaped her up with baby shampoo. She was not happy. And the scratches on my arm can prove it. But she was quite content to sit in a towel on my lap when it was all over.

As any BYU fan knows, BYU played a game against Oklahoma tonight. 5:00 is such an inconvenient kick-off time. Matt and Dad ended up eating most of their dinner in front of the TV. For some reason, I had gone out to the garden earlier and picked a large number of tomatoes and decided to make salsa, so Grandma and I sat at the table after dinner and chopped vegetables while everyone else crowded around the TV. When we heard an exciting play, we would run in to see the replay. Not a bad way to go.

Just before halftime, we got a call from my sister Becca. For some serendipitous reason, Mom asked Dad to put the call on speakerphone, so we were all able to hear when Becca casually announced, "we had a baby today."

It's a good thing it was big news, because anything lesser might not have been able to pull the boys' attention away from the game. We were all rather startled as it was- we weren't expecting this for another week or so. But no one is complaining- we're big fans of nephews (nieces too, but I don't have any of those yet). Michael is now calling himself a thruncle, since he has three nephews.

Of course, once halftime was over, attention reverted to the game. McKay was in attendance at the Cowboys' stadium. Every BYU game that he's attended, BYU has won, so he thought this would be a really good test to see if his superpower will hold true. It looks like he worked his magic, since BYU beat Oklahoma by one point. Cutting it kind of close, McKay, but a win is a win, I suppose.

Huh. I just reread this post and discovered that it sounds much more like one of my typical journal entries than a blog post. Ah, wel. It must be on account of my tiredness and the lateness of the hour and the randomness of the day. I hope the rest of the weekend holds steady with the randomness, because I'm kind of looking forward to it.

The double life

2009-08-31T22:06:00.003-06:00

Sometimes I'm not sure if I live in Salt Lake or Utah Valley. Tonight I drove down after work to visit Steve and Emily, who are in town from Missouri, where they are going to med school. It also happened to be Steve's birthday, what better reason for everyone to get together and eat a lot of food! There is always a lot of food at Steve's family's house, and it's always very good food. After filling myself up on salad and fresh fruit and really good herb bread and corn on the cob and the best shish-kebabs I've ever had, I sat and contentedly listened to Steve discourse to everyone on why the proposed health care changes won't work. As Steve pointed out, he does a good job of playing devil's advocate, which I completely agree with. Then I went upstairs and talked with Emily while she gave her daughter a bath. Then I filled up even more on trifle, and as I was leaving, Em told Steve that I was planning to come visit them in Missouri sometime. Steve gave me a bit of a strange look, as if to imply he didn't believe me.

"Well, all right," he said. "But you know where liars go."

"Where?" I replied innocently.

"Hell. Everlasting burnings. Where the worm dieth not," replied Steve solemnly, at the same time that one of his other friends stated, "Congress."

I'm not sure if the two are synonyms, but it was enough to have me chuckling until I was out in my car. Heh.

With all this driving, my car is becoming more of a place where I spend time than it ever has before. It gives me lots of time to ponder various things- and also time to practice singing. I figure I might as well use the time constructively, and since I'm paying a fair amount of money for voice lessons, I figure I might as well put in as much practice time as I can. When I was in high school, I would get up at 5:30 to practice voice. Now, when I get in my car and drive to Orem or Provo, I play CD recordings of my lessons to practice with (my latest teacher is by far the most technologically savvy). I'm not sure why I've taken lessons for so many years, except that I feel like I should. But it's good for me, which is reason enough right there. It makes me think about things and gives me a constructive project and a structured way to improve. And it also makes me grin when I think about what other people might think if they should happen to see me doing a lip-buzzing exercise in my car, or if I should happen to have my sunroof open while I'm doing warmups.

Small Pleasures

2009-08-30T22:12:00.002-06:00

Last night I drove down to Provo with my good friend Graham. We both lived in the same apartment complex for over two years, and we were going down to visit some friends down there. After some witty conversation, we ended up watching the movie "Oscar," which I recommend to anyone who enjoys lighthearted, clean humor. It was made all the better by the fact that our friend Nate is the king of accents, specializing in a mobster-type accent that we all love. So after listening to him and Graham converse in mobster for a while, Graham and I realized it was pretty late and we should get going.

As we got to Graham's car, his phone received a text message, so he pulled it out and discovered it was from me. I'm not so great at remembering to lock my phone, so I was pretty sure it was just a blank text, but upon opening it, Graham discovered a colorful display of balloons along with the words "Happy Birthday" and tinny music being played. We both erupted into laughter. I pulled out my own phone, and discovered that I had in fact sent him the text. The mystery was how the text had gotten into my phone in the first place and how it got sent to Graham. I am still mystified, but he was quite convinced that one of the guys we had been hanging out with had stolen my phone and sent it to him, so just to cover his bases, he sent it to all the guys who had been with us that night. Does anyone have a birthday coming up soon? If so, I can send you a great birthday message through your phone :-)

We've been having highly entertaining lunches at work lately, too. It's kind of hit and miss whether the lunch crew will make lunchtime witty or not, but one of my coworkers, J, is the king of providing entertainment. last week, he decided that we all had personas from the Hundred-Acre Wood, himself being Pooh Bear, of course. A was Piglet because she's very petite, E was Rabbit, I'm not sure why, C was Owl because she's older than us and wears glasses? and D was Eyore, probably because he worries about things sometimes. L became both Kanga and Roo since she is eight months pregnant, and I was dubbed Tigger. I was flattered to be selected as such a vivacious character, which I don't always strive to be at work, since it seems like being a Tigger at work could be counterproductive.

Oftentimes, there is a small flurry of emails sent out right before lunch to establish what time we are going to convene in the lunchroom. I'm not sure why we do this since the consensus is almost always noon, but it happens. On Friday, J sent out the official notice that said: "Lunch is at noon today. Please no ugly people, they upset my digestion."

We all assumed that he hadn't included any ugly people in his list of people that he emailed, so we all showed up for lunch. Always a good time.