Moderato con gusto

I think Salt Lake is starting to feel like home. Slowly. A little.

I haven't been sleeping well lately, so after sleeping in unusually late this morning, I got up and ran an extraordinarily fun set of errands. First on the list was grocery shopping. Grocery shopping in and of itself isn't necessarily an amazing activity, but the store I went to had their garden center out and I drooled over it. I exercised admirable self-control, though, reminding myself that I already had purchased seeds for flowers and herbs on my balcony and limited myself to purchasing potting soil and two planters for flowers. I can't wait to have a balcony garden in a few weeks. During the course of my shopping, I made sure to buy some yogurt on sale so I can use the cups for starting seeds after the yogurt has been consumed.

After the grocery shopping was done, it was time to go over to the University of Utah to listen to my friend Kerstin perform on her violin for her Master of Music recital. She did an excellent job. She played a very nice Beethoven concerto, with that nice late-Classical, early-Romantic feel, then an early 20th century piece, and finished with a piece by Brahms, definitely Romantic era. The Brahms piece utilized the method of naming the movements using the tempo markings, so I listened to Allegro molto moderato, Adagio, and Vivace ma non troppo. During this piece my mind began meditating on the fact that his would be a good way to classify my days- it's like saying "today was a really long, slow day," only much more sophisticated because instead it would look like "Saturday: Andante and largo." Today, as you can see, is Moderato con gusto. Not a busy day, but not a slow day, and a good day.

The refreshments after the recital consisted of chocolate-covered strawberries and cream puffs. There were a couple other things too, but they pale in comparison. Chocolate covered strawberries and cream puffs just seem so elegant, light, and spring-y. Yum! They had lots of extra food, so I was urged to take home a plate. Now there are chocolate covered strawberries and cream puffs sitting in my kitchen. Yay!

While I was trying to find the location of Kerstin's concert, I stumbled across a building that took me aback- the John A. Widstoe building! I felt like I was in a parallel universe, because the name of the biology research building at BYU where I essentially lived when Iw as a grad student is none other than the John A. Widstoe building. After getting over my surprise, I read the plaque that explained how after Elder Widstoe was a professor at BYU, he served as the president of the U of U. Probably I should have known that. Did everyone else know that? Anyway, it was kind of weird.

My last task of the day was one that I've been meaning to do for quite some time. I drove to the Salt Lake County Library and got a library card! Then, because I was short on time, I explored the children's wing and decided to devote my first checkout to children's books. The ones I ended up with were:

-"Encyclopedia Brown," because all my brothers loved these books when we were kids but I can't remember if I ever actually read them or not. Now's my chance to find out.

-The 3rd and 4th books in "A Series of Unfortunate Events," because I started the series a couple of years ago but clearly didn't get very far (I'm kind of cheating. I haven't read the second book but they didn't have any copies of it there. But there were about ten copies of Book the First. What's wrong with this scenario?)

-"Frog and Toad are Friends," along with a couple other Frog and Toad books, on the recommendation of my friend David and also because I think I may have read them as a kid but once again, can't remember (in my defense, I read a lot of books as a kid. I call my siblings as my witnesses).

-The first two "Five Little Peppers" books, because I know I've never read them and they look fun.

-"Heidi," which I also read several years ago, and want to re-read. Also, when I was in high school, a man in Utah Valley turned "Heidi" into a musical, which premiered at Utah Valley University, and I played the flute and the piccolo for the soundtrack. I doubt it's commercially available, but I have a copy, and it's kind of fun.

-"Ninjas, Piranhas, and Galileo," because, honestly. Can you turn down a book with a title like that? This is a case of strictly judging a book not by its cover per se, but by its title. I hope it lives up to my expectations.

The Salt Lake County Main Library is a large and impressive building and I fully intend to return soon and do more exploring. It seems much more cosmopolitan to me than my beloved Orem library, more mainstream, more sophisticated, but it also feels a little less scholarly. But the children's section at least is dang cool, sporting a human-sized stuffed giraffe standing on its hind legs and dressed like a nurse. Probably it's referencing some story that I don't know, but I find it hilarious.

Driving around today, I was caught by surprise at just how many flowering trees there are around Salt Lake. Redbuds and Magnolias and weeping cherries make spring so exquisite. I think I shall have to go on a walk through my rather ritzy neighborhood tomorrow and celebrate Easter by drinking in the sight of the flowering magnolia trees.

Now I'm home and waiting for Melanie to get back so we can go to the BYU ballroom dance concert. Plants, books, good music, and dance- anyone who knows me well should understand exactly why I label this day "Moderato con gusto."

Passover: a time of remembrance

Tonight, my pre-FHE potluck dinner group decided to have an informal Passover feast. It turned out remarkably well, although I didn't get word of the theme in time to contribute anything worthwhile. But it was a very tasty and enjoyable evening, sitting on a blanket on the floor with our grape juice, flatbread, hummus, bitter herbs, and matze soup.

Even better than the food though, it was an excellent reminder of how important this week is, not just as Passover week, but as Easter week. The two celebrations go hand-in-hand so closely. Passover is a time of remembrance for how the Jews were led out of captivity to a promised land, and Easter is a celebration of the event that allows all men who consciously choose it freedom from sin and the chance to live in an eternal promised land, in the presence of the Father.

It is so ironic to me that Christmas is such a huge celebration worldwide and celebrated with such pomp and that Easter, by comparison, is celebrated on a much smaller scale- and yet which is the more important event? That Christ was born, or that He conquered death?

Don't let Easter slip by uncelebrated in your own life. Perhaps it is not such a bad thing that the world considers this holiday to be worth less monetary value than Christmas- maybe they are right. But if Easter is really celebrated in its true spirit in the hearts of men, its value surpasses anything else that we can possibly aspire to. A world with no atonement and no resurrection would be a dark, dismal, terrifying place to live. Take some time this week to thank God for the gift of repentance, of rebirth, of communication with heaven. Ponder the greatness of the gift, and then take the spirit of Easter on through the rest of the year with you.

Blessings

How many people in the world are fortunate enough to (1) have seven brothers and sisters and (2) be good friends with them all? I've always loved them, but one of the best things about growing up is watching everyone develop their character and decide who they are and what they like and what they'll study in college and how we can all become peers instead of an uncertain pecking order.

Since this weekend was General Conference, I spent it with my family. We're a little more spread out now, but Friday night was especially fun because there were five of us home. I draw such strength from my siblings and their warm, strong personalities.

Elder Bednar, one of the twelve apostles, spoke today about temples and homes. He mentioned that temples are the most sacred place on earth, being God's house on the earth, and the only place that can compare to the temple in holiness is the home. I remember hearing this as a child and furrowing my brow a little. I loved my home, but it was a rather noisy place, and with so many small children, there were definitely lots of arguments and scuffles. But today as I sat with my parents and Michael and Angi and thought about how much I love my family, it made so much sense. The home is holy- the temple is where we go to form eternal families, but the home is where we go to develop them, teach them, and provide for them a refuge from the deluge of filth that pervades the world. A home will be whatever we try to make it. If we are not trying to make it anything, it will not amount to much. Just like developing a character, developing a home takes conscious effort and work. It takes lots of effort to not only make a home a pleasant place physically, but also spiritually.

Even though my family's house when I was small was a little disorganized and sometimes loud and dirty, I think it did qualify as a holy place, where we we all taught that God is our Father, who loves us and wants us to return to Him. In those walls, we were taught that, because we are God's children, we must act accordingly and not do anything that would defile or demean us. And, for the most part, we tried to live the lessons we were taught. And now, as we grow up and one by one become adults and move away to college and try out all these lessons we've been taught for ourselves, away from home, all those years of learning in our home are paying off. I love by brothers and sisters so much. They are among my very best friends. I'm pretty blessed.

Weekend adventures

Recently, since I'm still slowly working on building a life in Salt Lake, I've been spending part of my weekends down at the old stomping grounds, visiting family, old roommates, and other friends. I've had quite a few adventures in the course of my recent weekends, including the following:

-On my birthday, I went to dinner with my old roommates to a pizza place, where we all ordered root beer. It was the kind of place that brought out a bottomless pitcher of root beer, and Holly especially enjoyed this fact. She got a little hyper off the stuff and was singing stanzas of birthday songs before each swig. On the way home from the restaurant, we stopped at the grocery store for some sour cream that Holly needed for a cake she was baking that night. However, we told Esther that the sour cream was really an antidote to calm down Holly from her root beer high. Esther, bless her, believed us and spent the rest of the evening thinking that sour cream was a remedy for sugar rushes.

-Last weekend I got to be my dad's date to a university dinner- good company, good food, and a good, albeit loud, jazz ensemble providing entertainment.

-Today I happened to time my three hours at my family's house exactly right. I was sitting in the dining room reading the paper when my youngest sister got asked to Prom, her first date. It was a rather spastic hour. I was glad that I got to be there to be excited with her, answer a multitude of questions about prom etiquette and protocol, and help her come up with ideas for ways to answer her date. This is Utah, after all, it's impossible to just walk up to the person of interest and tell them yes. I was quite gratified that the method she chose was a Maria original that I suggested to her.

-Tonight I fulfilled a goal that I've had for quite some time and went to my own personal restaurant: Maria Bonita's. I had plans to go to dinner with my old roommate Karen and her husband Rich; I suggested Maria's and they agreed to give it a try with me. So off we went. We played a deft game of Phase 10 Dice while we waited for (and consumed) our food. And wow, what food! I am proud to say that the restaurant that bears my name is a very good establishment with good food and very large portions. I'll be eating fajitas for a week.

Karen and Rich are moving across the country after the semester ends, and I'll lose another friend from the general area. But I'll also be able to add another location to my growing list of places I could go visit and crash at a friend's house if I ever visited. It's a pretty impressive list, and I have something of a standing invitation to most of them (incidentally, I was kind of touched at how many people suggested I should visit their town on my next trip). We've got Seattle, Rigby Idaho, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Phoenix, Chicago, Houston, St. Louis, New York, Toronto, Germany, Liverpool, Korea, and Taiwan. I wish I had the time and money to go to all of those places, mostly to see the people who live there that I care about. It really makes my heart happy that there are so many good people and so many good friends in the world- and more waiting to be met. This one little simple fact makes up for a lot of things in life.

Commemoration

Growing up, I always had a special relationship with my mother's father, who I began addressing as "Grandpa Buddy" almost as soon as I could talk. I'm not really sure where the kinship came from, but we were indeed buddies and very good friends except for the occasions when my stubborn, undisciplined personality ran up against his stubborn, very disciplined personality. These, fortunately, became less common as I grew up and actually started trying to do something with my life.

For all of my Buddy's life that I knew him, he was an avid fan of bow ties and only owned a couple of long ties for special occasions. Because of his thrifty nature, he figured out how to make them himself and consequently had a few hundred homemade bow ties. He and my grandmother were on a mission when my big sister got married so in order to represent them at the reception, all the men in the family sported bow ties from his collection.

When I was a young child, I had an obsession with what I called "bears," which means any stuffed animal or doll. It didn't matter if it was human, rabbit, or reptile, if it was in my collection it was classified as a bear. Consequently, when my fourth birthday rolled around, I thought it would be neat if Grandpa Buddy gave me a bear- with a bow tie on. Grandpa thought this was a great idea and purchased a stuffed panda bear for me, then added the crowning touch with a homemade miniature bow tie for the bear. The bear with the bow tie still graces my bed, over two decades later.

Grandpa loved numbers more than just about any person I know, including my father, who knows more math than most math professors. He wrote his autobiography specially laid out in fifty chapters. When Rebecca, who was his editor, suggested the material for a fifty-first chapter, it wound up as an appendix because he just couldn't stand the thought of his beautiful fifty-chapter biography layout being spoiled. In fact, one of those fifty chapters is entitled "Love Those Numbers." (Another one is called "Bow Ties," incidentally). My favorite part of that chapter is a paragraph explaining how there is no such thing as an uninteresting number. Bless you, Buddy.

I could go on all day about the things I love and the funny quirks that make me laugh, but that would get really long. The reason I've been thinking about this today is that this is the anniversary of his death, three years ago. He had a short bout of very intense, widespread cancer, and then he was gone, surprisingly young for a member of his notoriously long-lived family.

His funeral was an interesting experience, not the least for the fact that he had planned the program himself, including asking Matt and I to perform Meditation of a Theme by Thais, on flute and piano. Amidst the tears that coursed down my cheeks, I really actually enjoyed the funeral. Grandpa asked some of his closest friends, who had lived near him for decades, to give the life sketch and talks, and the fun, wonderful stories that we heard that day filled my heart with a warm glow. And that's what I felt today when I thought about my Buddy. I miss him a lot, and I'm sad to think that he won't be there when I get married (whenever that is) and that he won't know my children. But I mostly just can't help smiling, and looking forward to greeting him again and getting an enthusiastic "Hello, Maria Buddy!" and a big warm hug and a huge smack on the cheek. I can't wait to hear his hearty laugh again while we make terrible puns together. And I sure hope there are word games in Heaven, because I sure would like to see him and Becca duel out another game of Scrabble.

I wish everyone was lucky enough to have a Grandpa Buddy.

The Travel Bug

Okay, I'm taking suggestions. What cool and interesting place should I go next?

A funny memory or two

For some reason, lots of old funny memories have been floating around in my head lately. So I'm going to share a few with whoever is bored enough to read this. Tonight, you get my three favorite date memories. For the purposes of this blog, a favorite date memory is defined as a funny date memory, since no one wants to read about my romantic doorstep scenes and mushy moments, and even if they did, I wouldn't post it on the internet for all to see.

Number three took place just a few months ago. I often get (or used to get) free tickets to events at BYU, usually last minute, and this often leads to me finding a last-minute date. I have one good friend, Graham, who I invited often because I knew he'd always enjoy the cultural events. It's kind of gratifying to invite someone to a concert and see them leaning forward the whole time out of sheer enjoyment.

This event was a play, "Dial 'M' for Murder." I got the tickets two days before and struck out a few times before I decided to call Graham. He agreed to go with me so we attended the play, enjoyed it, and drove back to our apartment complex. As the instigator of the date, I was driving. We pulled into the parking lot and rounded a corner. Suddenly Graham sat up straight, stared out the window, and exclaimed, "hey! Those people are breaking in to my apartment!" There was a knot of people gathered near his balcony, busily engaged in attempting a prank on his apartment (involving his cardboard woman, Petunia. That's a story for another day, though). So it was not actually organized crime, just a prank war. Graham had me drive up close to the sidewalk and then he jumped out of the car to go confront them before I had even stopped all the way. As I pulled back around to park, I was laughing pretty hard. I have now been on a date where my date jumped out of the car before it was fully stopped, although it wasn't actually to get away from me. After I parked, I did go over and join him while he stopped the prankage, and he did walk me to my door after that, bless him. But it was pretty entertaining.

Number two took place last summer. A boy named Stephen in my ward asked me out and I was rather taken aback. I knew his family pretty well because I went to high school with his big sister- he was a few years younger than me though, so I didn't know him very well. I was kind of concerned that we wouldn't have very much to talk about, but I was pleasantly surprised in that respect. We ended up having good conversation the whole time. In fact, when he walked me to my door to end the date, the first thing he said at the doorstep was, "well, this is definitely the most intellectual date I've ever been on." as soon as I was inside and closed the door, I fell over on the floor laughing. That statement in now my favorite doorstep scene ever. I guess if anyone is looking for an intellectual date, I'm your woman.

Number one, my funniest date, is a little further back in time, about three and a half years. I was living at home during the summer and I was trying to attract the attention of a guy named Ted. The whole story is rather humorous, including the fact that both Ted and I confided in my brother that we were interested in each other but we didn't seem to communicate that to each other super well. When he finally did ask me out, he decided to do it right, and he enlisted the assistance of our mutual friend Erin to find out what my favorite flower was so he could bring me one. Erin had to find ways to ask me what my favorite flower was a few times because I kept claiming that I didn't have a favorite flower, I loved them all. Finally, I told her that if I had to choose, I'd probably select a Dutch iris. (Oddly enough, I didn't get suspicious at all when she kept asking me what my favorite flower was. Probably because I was studying botany and I just like plants). Erin carefully filed away that piece of information to tell Ted. However, somehow before she got the chance to tell him, she got a little confused and ended up telling Ted it was a Dutch lily I hankered after. Poor Ted called every florist in the valley asking if they carried Dutch lilies, and was told many times that no such thing existed. So he showed up on my doorstep with a plain lily, which I thought was pretty cool, and even better after I heard the trouble he'd gone to.

Knowing that I was a plant nerd, Ted took me to the Thanksgiving Point Gardens, which was a great idea. We strolled around the gardens for quite a while and lost track of time. We eventually saw several people gathering things up and walking towards the entrance, but no one ever said anything to us. after a while, we realized that it was pretty dark and the pathway lights were turned off and we hadn't seen another person for a while. Then we began to think maybe the gardens were closed. Our suspicions were confirmed when we walked back to the building that housed the entrance and it was dark and locked up. Yep, we managed to get ourselves locked in to the gardens for the night. We found that pretty entertaining. After some exploring, we found a piece of the gardens that had terraces instead of a fence where we could climb down and get back tot he car. But if we hadn't found that area, we just might have had to have spent the night in the garden. Getting locked in the garden for the night is my favorite date memory ever.