Daily Gratitude - Day 5

I have never mourned aging. I still don’t think I’m mourning but as I approach 40, there are some very annoying things I wish I didn’t have to deal with. At the top of the list: grey hair.

I kind of want to be one of those women who just lets it go grey and sports the Birkenstocks and puffy vest (why do I have this image in my head? Oh, this makes me remember the funny description of Seattle women in Where’d You Go, Bernadette? Have you read it?) but as cool and comfortable as they look in their own skin....they look older than I’m sure they are. And, I don’t want to look older than 40. I’m not trying to look 20 but why rush things?

So, I color my hair. Every time I make an appointment, it seems like I have to ask my stylist to cover more and more grey. My main problem areas are the hair that grows right beside the sides of my forehead. If I didn’t color my hair, I could sort of be the female version of Mitt Romney. And, as handsome as he is at 67, again...this is not really the look I’m going for.

Isn’t it nice, though, that in a matter of hours, such a silly grievance can be completely redressed? If only all of my problems could be fixed by siting in a chair, sipping lemon water and reading a magazine.

The magic is happening...

Poof! No more grey temples!

Why Don’t I Play Ping Pong With My Mouth?

Apparently, my inspiration for blogging comes from snippets I read in the news.  Another interesting article brought about some more navel gazing and today’s the day to write about it.

First of all, watch this video clip.



OK. Pretty cool story, right?

I thought so too.  I admire people like Ibrahim who overcome the obvious impossible to do something extraordinary.  Honestly, I even admire people who overcome much more modest challenges to do something extraordinary but their stories might not cause my brain to churn quite as much.

Sometimes, I feel like an anti-Ibrahim.  Not  “against” Ibrahim but “opposite” Ibrahim.  I have some nagging shoulder pain that became burdensome in late November and the pain and even the potential of pain has shut me down from doing certain things.  I was working out...lifting weights and other weight bearing exercises like burpees and push-ups but this shoulder pain has halted all progress.  Last week, an MRI showed that I do have a tear in my labrum (tissue surrounding shoulder socket that connects a bunch of things like bicep tendon etc) and I’ll admit that the diagnosis helped ease my guilt about not doing what I was doing but a torn labrum doesn’t mean that I can’t do anything. I can walk.  I can do the elliptical machine (can’t swim, Yoga, pilates or Crossfit though. Not that I ever cross fitted but now I have a legitimate excuse not to other than just being philosophically opposed to its cult like following).

My lame shoulder is not the point of the ping pong metaphor, however.  I enjoyed workout out but it was never something I loved so I don’t miss it like Ibrahim seemed to miss playing. Without that passion, I can understand why I haven’t done any and all to find some way to adapt workouts so my lats and deltoids get some lifting reps. No, my being aware of not playing ping pong (table tennis...whatever) with my mouth has to do with singing.

Two months ago, I rejoined the local choral society. I quit 3 years ago when my YW president calling (and then surprise pregnancy) superseded my desire to sing.  After a visit to a doctor a few months ago, who suggested either going on anti-depressants or making time in my life to do something I enjoyed that is independent of church, mothering or being a wife, I felt like singing might be the thing to help me restore some balance. It has been just the thing.

I don’t think I enjoyed participating in the chorale as much the first time around.  This time, I have made a more concerted effort to meet and know the other choir members and it definitely helps that my two older boys are old enough to take care of things at home if Jay is not around.  We performed a concert two weeks ago entitled “Serenity,”singing classical religious music that was beautiful and challenging, including Shubert’s Mass in G, and we have another concert tonight called “Cabaret” which is filled with show tunes, jazz, and patriotic numbers. Additionally, there were open try-outs for solo spots.  I didn’t try for any of them.

The thing that is really bugging me this week is that I keep fantasizing about singing a solo in the concert. I thinking I have crooned “Maybe This Time,” which would have been perfect for this concert, in the car...at the piano... in the shower...about two dozen times in the last two weeks since auditions. I have all of these songs I know and love that I never get to sing (because where do you sing a song about getting dumped in full belt voice?) and I’m a little sick to my stomach that when an opportunity came to sing them in front of an audience - to do something I really enjoy, nay, something I am, in fact, passionate about, I didn’t have the guts to do it.

There is something, in my opinion, a little embarrassing about being passionate about singing. I don’t feel like that about other musical passions.  Guitar, piano, oboe...you name it...someone who passionately goes after opportunities to play is pretty cool! But voice, when the skill on the instrument is hidden inside the neck and upper body cavity, well...it’s more personal. It feels a bit like narcissism. Like...look at me! When you sing a solo, you experience this moment in time when you, just you, are trying so hard to be good and what if, in spite of your very best effort, you aren’t? What if, during that moment of total exposure, with your singing feathers in full plumage, those watching and listening are thinking, “Meh.”  Truthfully, because voice tones are so unique and preferences so personal, there is a very good chance that that is exactly what is happening during any vocal solo. I don’t know where my neurosis comes from, exactly, but the only time I sing solos is when asked (and 99.8 % of the asking is at church where the repertoire is limited) and even then it feels a little bit like showboating.  What is my problem?

Perhaps, and this is a stretch, I lost my singing arms back when I decided that a degree in vocal performance wasn’t for me.  I can remembering making the decision as an 18 year-old fish out of water freshman at BYU that I wasn’t good enough to really do it. Perform professionally. Out there in the world. That decision, to forgo the training and the experiences and the effort to be better, tied my arms behind my back so that I then had an excuse to not do something that I really love doing. Whether it’s from my own lack of pursing or a real lack of opportunity, it is easy for me to watch and listen to others perform and wonder, “What if?”

Now, I’m the chorale again and my brain knows they do this cabaret concert every year. My brain knows I could audition next year. It feels ridiculous to be thinking about something so far away.  It feels ridiculous to be this contemplative and nervous about auditioning for a solo spot in the future in a small time show in a small town. It’s not like I’m trying to get on The Voice or a part on Broadway. Still, I want to do it. I want to sing “Maybe This Time” or “Tell Me One A Sunday” or “Can’t Help Loving “Dat Man” or, heaven forbid, “I Dreamed A Dream” in front of an audience on a stage with a spotlight squared right on me. Is that too weird? Why can’t I like quilting or running or home decorating or some other socially acceptable hobby?

If I’m going to do it, I need to get used to having a metaphorical paddle in my mouth. I need to be brave enough to do something I love inspite of/because of my inability to do it at a level I once dreamed about. I need to remember that it’s better to adapt a dream than give it up altogether.  I need to try.

Finding Me-time...I Guess

It's been way too busy around here. I absolutely hate it when days start at 6 am and don't really end until 10 pm - even if some of the stuff keeping me up late is fun. I still start to wear down if I don't get recharge time. A lot of these should have been posts of their own but that is not happening. This weary wave has swamped me but besides all of the regular mom hubabaloo, a few activities took me out of my mom zone and really made me stretch outside of my norm. 

• I have started attending a committee at my kids elementary school named SAC - School Advisory Committee. Essentially, it's the principle and a representative from the school district, a member of the community who doesn't and hasn't had a child enrolled in this school and a bunch of parent members. The principle called me a few months ago to ask me to join this committee and a mixture of guilt from not volunteering these past two school years and genuine concern about what the curriculum, safety and staffing issues are at our school led to my saying, "yes." At our last meeting, the superintendent also attended because of a critical decision to be made about staffing and the budget. The first grade (Henry's grade) currently is divided into two classes with class sizes of 13 and 14. I probably don't have to say that it's been a dream come true for their teachers. They already know of one first grader moving away during the summer and the question at what number of students does the class recombine into one was given to us. As I mentioned earlier, I haven't been in the classrooms these past two years so I don't know this class all that well but many of the parents in attendance said it was a particularly challenging class behavior wise and thought it best if they stay split into two small classes. Obviously, it'd be great if every teacher and child could be in a class of 13 students but I had a feeling the superintendent was there because we don't live in la-la land and actual compromises need to be made. When I asked what the "but" was, like was it two classes but no music or two classes but no art, neither the principle or superintendent gave much away but I don't think there's a school in the US that has budget money to burn. So, I spoke up. Just as a parent on the committee. I said that 26 still seemed like a big number of second graders, especially if there are multiple behavior issues but something happens when that number dips below 25. It seems silly that there is a difference in my brain between 27 and 24 but class sizes of 12, when other schools in this very town have class sizes of 29, seems indulgent. When I said that number "24" the principle wrote it down, circled it, and then the superintendent reviewed that 24 seemed to be the number we would consider combining the class.  It all kind of happened fast and I wanted someone else to speak up but no one else did so...there you have it. One mom was definitely shooting me daggers and she's probably been on the committee for years and some no-show nobody comes and starts opening her big mouth but, for real, if I am going to be at a meeting at 7:30 and have my mother-in-law watch Daniel for me in order to go, I'm going to give my opinion! 

• I went to my book club last Thursday night and was dreading it because, once again, I didn't like the book that was chosen. OK. You know me. I like to talk about books. I am not going to say, "I liked it," or, "I didn't like it," and be done. No, no, no, no, no, no. But, it seems for the past few months in a row, I haven't liked the book and have made it know why not. When it was clear that I was not going to have an overall positive experience reading this month's choice, The Age of Miracles, I considered not going. I did go but felt determined to avoid giving my opinion unless asked and then, maybe, only a shoulder shrug and a, "It was ok," keeping me somewhat honest. What a relief when the person who picked the book declared at the very onset of dinner, "I hated this book!" That got the juices flowing and pretty much everyone admitted that they disliked it. I didn't even have to say anything. Even so, I clearly have a reputation because the hostess announced, "When I realized it was an awful book, I thought, Oh great, what is Lucy going to say about this one?" I may need to tone down my book club opinions. Sheepish grin. 

• I went to a Bach festival concert with a relatively new friend. I'm always surprised when someone calls me up and invites me to something. I don't know this woman very well but I like her and we kind of musically bonded at Christmas time when I helped her put on a combined ward Christmas program. When she asked me if I wanted to attend the Goldberg Variations concert, I said sure, but didn't really plan on it until she called again the night before making sure we were still going. I made arrangements to meet her there fully expecting a big group to be there because why would she single me out? Turns out, she did single me out and I had a wonderful time listening to the guest lecturer explain the history of the piece and its remarkable points, listening to a fabulous organ performance and then sipping some hot cocoa afterward at a local coffee shop. It was all very enjoyable and I'm glad I have a new friend!

• I put on a ward fireside about my trip to Israel on the Tuesday night before Easter. Even though I blogged extensively about it, I felt like I had to start from scratch because I wanted the focus to be on Christ and so I spent quite a bit of time organizing pictures in chronological order of Christ's life and making sure I had all my facts straight. Patty and Karen graciously provided refreshments a la Holy Land (hummus, fresh dipping veggies, oranges, pita bread and dates). In attendance were Patty and Vaughn, Karen and Vaughn, two other couples, my good friend, Michelle and her daughter, my niece, Delanie, and a single sister. I felt bad that what could have been done easily and more comfortably at my house, especially considering almost half in attendance were family members, was in a relief society room instead. I struggled to filter all the information in my head and make it spiritual and relevant and definitely veered off focus at times.  I also went a half hour longer than I planned. My take away is that I'm not much of the fireside giving sort. 

• I must have serious non-volunteer guilt because I offered my services to the middle school PTO when they needed someone to go to the grocery store and pick up food for the teacher's lounge during parent/teacher conferences. I always get all the emails because I must have signed it on some piece of paper at the beginning of Seth's sixth grade year but I have never done anything for this organization nor have I ever attended a single meeting. Some faulty wiring in my brain made me shoot off a reply on my iphone, "I can!"before I really thought things through and my rash eagerness meant I got to shop at Walmart on a Thursday at noontime which might just be the absolute worst time to grocery shop. I suppose Black Friday or the day before Thanksgiving might be worse but I am smart enough to stay away during those notorious times. I have no idea what caused such a backlog of carts at the check-out that day but it took a full 30 minutes of standing in line before I even got my stuff on the conveyer belt. Then, when everything was wrung up and in the bags and in my cart, I gave the checker the middle school credit card and Tax ID card and she said, "Oh, I needed this before I rang anything up. I'll have to re check everything." Before my polite self could regain composure, I lamented loudly, "I hate shopping here!!!!" The checker looked a little started but not apologetic as she slowly started taking things out of the bags and rechecking everything. Painful, painful and painful and a good reminder that I am not in a volunteering season of life. And I am already in Walmart too much as it is. 

• I played the organ as part of a musical duet on Easter Sunday. Even though it is not really my responsibility at all, as ward choir director who did not have a choir number prepared I promised a special musical number to the ward music chair. By the time I actually got around to doing something, only one week remained to prepare and not many people are comfortable with that sort of timeline when performing music. That left me doing something but people are sick of me so I asked a really talented woman in the ward who plays viola if she could come up with something Easter-y. She called me the next day with an idea of a He Is Risen/Christ the Lord is Risen Today mashup for viola and organ. That meant that the ward was not going to get a Lucy-free musical number but it didn't feel fair to make someone else learn an organ part in five days. We met at the church a few times and I realized that this little something she came up with was something she had just written. Like on Monday. Not only had she just written it, but she kept changing it and fixing parts that didn't work so by the time we rehearsed on Friday, it was pretty amazing. I was figuring out the organ stops and how to switch between memory sets quickly because there were no free hands during one transition. That meant...duh,duh,duh...I had to use my foot! I know, I know...organists are supposed to know how to use their feet but I don't. My brain freaks out if I even try. I would love to learn how to play the organ properly but, for now, the bass coupler is my best organ friend. Still, with the right stops, it sounded really cool. The first part had only the bell stop pulled and it sounded like those church bells that play when Maria marries Captain Von Trapp. It was a really fun musical number to play. 

• I would never classify myself as hard-to-please but my past hair care history would beg to differ. I am perpetually unhappy with whomever I pay to do my hair. Every once in a while, I will find someone I really like who also happens to make my hair look nice but it usually seems like it's one or the other. Or someone moves. Or I move. Whatever happens, I seem to constantly be on the prowl for a new hair person. I tried someone new today. It was a total blind date. I found a place online that seemed reputable and essentially booked an appointment with the first stylist who could get me in. It didn't go so well for me. I suppose the hair looks ok but she. took. for. ever! I'm sorry, but a mama with a one year old doesn't have time for slow highlights. This lady really seemed fresh out of beauty school because she could never manage to get the right amount of hair for the foil the first time. Which meant, by the time I was done, I had gone almost an hour longer than I told my mother-in-law, who had Daniel and a sick Seth, and Sam and Henry were home alone for much longer than the 15 minutes I promised they'd have to wing it when they got off the bus. Let's just say that I am still on the prowl. Sigh. 

• I finally called my former trainer to get some help remembering how to do something other than drive in my van and shop at Walmart:) I'm nervous. And it was hard to make that call. 

Well...that's about it. We just got back from another night out, this time having dinner at the church to support the Young Women fundraiser. Last year at this time, as Young Women's President,  I was pretty much in charge of this event and it was so nice to go, load up my plate with a navajo taco, sit, visit and eat.  And then...I got to leave! 

Tomorrow, I'm packing up for my in-law's 50th wedding celebration up in Utah with all of Jay's family and then leaving on Friday. Then...spring break. Then, Seth's birthday. And, in a blink, it's going to be the middle of April. Crazy. 

Life is certainly not slowing down. Being available for my boys and making their lives happen takes up the vast majority of my time but I wanted to spend a few minutes writing to remind myself that it isn't all about them. I have had opportunities these past few weeks to take off my mom sneakers and step into some less comfortable but a little more bedazzled Lucy shoes and I'm glad both shoes fit. 

It's Not You...It's Me

A couple of weeks ago, I heard through my son, Sam, that our neighbors and friends were moving to Utah. When this friend confirmed the news through a text that same night, I drove home in a fog of tears. I was desolate. Beyond sad. Beyond lonely.

The hole this family would leave behind, both in the community and at church, is crater-sized in its proportions. While the thought of the gash their children leaving makes to our youth program and primary, as well as her and her husband's leadership roles as seminary teacher and bishopric member being sadly vacated is depressing, I mostly mourned my own personal loss. A fun friend gone. A source of advice and comfort in this little town too expensive and isolated to keep anyone for long...taken. I didn't want to live here anymore. I know that sounds dramatic but it just seemed that if this person, who I thought was going to be here forever, was moving then no current or future friendship was safe.  For years, it was us leaving our friends as medical school, residency and fellowship ended but, now, for the rest of my life, friends will move and leave me.

What made my grief seem ridiculously overdramatic and undeserving was that it had been probably close to a year since I had done anything social with this friend.  We had chatted at a few ward functions and a sent a few texts here and there that kept us from saying we hadn't heard from each other but I had made very little effort to be a friend to my friend.  Now, with plans for her to move in less than a month, we quickly scheduled a breakfast in which to meet and chat and it was delightful.  Easy.  Well...not so easy.  Daniel did tip over my water onto my lap and I had that uncomfortable upper thigh and crotch soak to show off as I left the restaurant but that kind of thing isn't what keeps me home.  It's me...not making any effort.  It's me....figuring people have better things to do.  It's me...not knowing or realizing the stress others are having and helping.  It's not hard for me to list all the reasons why I'm so unsocial these days.  I'm married to a private and socially unmotivated person.  I live on 25 acres in the freaking countryside.  I have a baby who prevents me from being a lady who lunches and older kids with busy evenings that make my daylight hours feel too precious to spend frivolously with other moms of young kids at things like MOPS.  All those realities make the excuses easier to give but the sad reality is this: I am not a good friend.

I think I make an excellent acquaintance.  I tend to be friendly and funny and genuinely interested in others. I'm such a good acquaintance that some are duped or lured into thinking I'd make a good friend.  This attention and effort on their part flatters and excites me for awhile but then something happens.  I'm not sure what.  Sometimes it's my own insecurity that I seem too desperate or needy so I back off.  Sometimes, I overshare, get embarrassed and back off.  Sometimes, someone else seems too desperate or needy and that scares me so I...back off.  See a pattern here?  Sometimes, distance and time just shift the friendship back to acquaintance mode and it seems weird to get all loud and eager again.  Whatever the reason I know that I am the common denominator in all of my current and former lackluster friendships.

A few days ago, this friend told me they are no longer moving.  Relief and joy replaced the gloom and I feel determined to show this friend that I really am her friend!  Even with this resolve and our own jokes that it shouldn't take the threat of a move to get us to hang out, I find myself managing my motivation.  My head says, "O.K.  She's staying but this is a really busy time of year and you just had breakfast two weeks ago. Don't annoy her and plan something else right away."  I'm obnoxious!

To anyone I have disappointed as a friend - I'm so sorry.  I'm sorry if I seemed disinterested.  I'm sorry if I let you down or left you alone when you needed support.  I'm sorry I seem to lack the skills to stay friends - real friends.  I promise you...it's not you.  It's me.  I'd like to be better.

Vanity

For the past few months, I've noticed my right front tooth getting darker and darker.  It happened a few years ago as well and it really affects my smile.  I immediately notice that most peoples' eyes are drawn to my mouth. Children, the most blunt and honest, say things like, "Why do you have a black tooth?" or "Your tooth is blue!" and I have to say, "Yes, it's dead.  It's my zombie tooth."

 For the past month or more, I have stifled any smile.  If you look at past posts, I'm often posing with this awful looking closed mouth smirk.  Not attractive at all.   It's such a thing.  I don't know why.  Vanity, I guess.  It really makes me feel for those sweet kids who have cleft palates and cheer for the doctors who help them get their smiles back.  Everybody should smile without thinking about what the smile looks like.  (I do know those surgeries fix more than their smiles.  I'm just saying it fixes their smiles as well).

I went to the dentist this week to see if he could fix me up and turns out, I forgot to follow up with the endodontist like I was supposed to three years ago.  Three years!  When he fixed my tooth then, he put a temporary filling inside as well as a tiny cotton plug (the endodontist was supposed to put a stabilzing post in) and the cotton plug had turned black.  Kind of gross, right?

I have a nice white smile now.

It is so nice to smile.  

A (Wo)Man of Many Hats

Last year, at about this same time, I was driving along a main thoroughfare in town and found myself directly behind a good friend.  Recognizing each other’s vehicles, we waved to each other, she through her rear view mirror and me, through the windshield of my van.  Eventually, our destinations broke up our impromptu caravan and we went out own way.

She texted me about an hour later asking me what in the world I had on my head.

I had skied earlier in the day and was wearing what I thought was a super cute cream colored knit poorboy cap.  Something must be done to coverup the never pretty effects of helmet head. I told her so and she responded with an LOL.  She thought I was wearing a chef’s cap and couldn’t figure out why I would be wearing one.

Funny story but I haven't worn that hat much after her comment.  Who wants to look like a chef unless, I suppose, you’re a chef?

I haven’t always had the desire to be a hat wearer.  In fact, I can’t think of any other time in my life when I’ve even owned any hats.   But, there is something about living in a mountain town, where Patagonia and UGG are the major fashion labels, that makes one think that a knit hat is the perfect accessory.   I counted today and I have five hats.  Five hats that I never wear.

I did wear one last week to an outdoor YW/YM mutual activity and after looking at a picture taken of us leaders, had the thought once again, “I do not look attractive in a hat!”  My friend, Lori, was wearing a knitted cap and looked adorable.  I think some people can pull it off and some people can’t and I fall in the latter camp.

Maybe it’s all accessories because I also feel like a total poser if I try wearing a scarf with an outfit.

Apparently, I’m not supposed to go after the “warm” look.  Here are some pictures for proof:

Me with some of the other leaders and one young woman who didn’t clue in when we said we wanted a picture of us leaders.  This is the picture that started this post swirling in my head.

Now....for the rest of them.

I should have taken out my big hoops since they are rarely part of the hat wearing equation.  I bought this red knit cap to go with my red ski coat but....I don’t know.  It’s too tight or monochrome or something.  It makes my head look huge.

Just a really bad ear flap look.  Probably the most warm hat I own so, if that’s the point, then it does its job.  Would a ball on top make it better?

I think this hat is so cute with its stripes but, again, I think it makes my head look huge because it looks so snug.  Maybe I just don’t buy hats big enough. Or maybe I actually have a huge head.  

I actually like this hat.  I think the bill helps but still don’t wear it very often.

The hat that makes me look like I am whipping up an omelet.  I added the whisk to help with the visualization.  

The Activist Gene

As I drove to the hospital for my monthly OB appointment, I noticed much ado about something from afar.  When I got close enough to the fracas, I could clearly see a group of about 30-40 individuals (today the paper says 70 so either I or they are poor estimators) holding signs with several police cars nearby.  The group included men, women and more than you'd think of the twelve and under crowd holding signs against the evils of abortion, signs protesting a certain doctor with hospital privileges who performs abortions and all of the other ones you'd expect from this group about the sanctity of life, the rights of the unborn and the certain damnation of those who don't heed their warning.

As uncomfortable as I was, I still felt safe within the relative anonymity of my car.  This group of anti-abortion activists didn't single me out even though I was on my way to an appointment at the OB/GYN practice where this very doctor is one of several partners (who, I will admit, I don't schedule appointments with because of his very public support of world population control.  I just don't see how you can be in the business of doctoring women who are having babies while being against their baby's soon-to-be existence because the planet, in your opinion, is over populated.  I would rather pay someone to help in the delivery who is or can fake their happiness for my new bundle of joy).  It wasn't until I was making my way into the office and saw MORE uniformed police officers standing guard, just in case, that I became slightly worried and very annoyed.

My thoughts throughout the remainder of the day have frequently returned to my reaction to this small group of crusaders.  It's not just what they protesting against, or where they were doing it, although both of those things mattered today as I don't think anyone, including myself, should be harassed or bothered while seeking out any kind of medical treatment (Get out of my way!  I didn't drink that nasty orange glucose syrup for nothing!), it's that they were protesting period.  Is this really the best way to bring attention to your cause?

Looking back throughout history, I suppose the answer is often, "yes."  I think about the women who chained themselves to buildings to bring attention to the suffrage movement and how grateful I am for the right to vote.  I think about the non-violent actions of those involved in the fight for civil rights in the South and how the country needed to wake up from decades of injustice.  Time has shown that those were battles that needed to be won and it wasn't going to happen by everyone minding their own business.

Still, I wonder if I would have had the gumption to join in.  You see, my hours of introspection today have made me realize that I am not a comfortable activist.  The thought of trying to persuade or convince someone to believe what I believe or do what I do, based solely on the merits of my beliefs or actions being right - even if I could prove that they are - is repellent to me.   To do so seems not only presumptuous but also terribly self-important.  I'm of the camp that considers opinions and advice most effective when asked to give them.  And while that persuasion may protect me most of the time from the ridicule of the opposing view, it also limits my voice as well as my influence.

For the most part, I am fine with that.  I have realized that even if I passionately think Tupperware superior to Rubbermaid or circuit training more effective than jazzercize, I wouldn't be good at selling either.  Because that's what activists do - sell the world their point of view.  From what they think should or shouldn't be legal, the humanity of an animal's environment or the kind of food that's safe to eat, there is a driving force to convince others to think the same.  Some people seem to be born with that activist gene.  If they believe in something or know about something great or horrible, by golly, you're going to hear about it.  I've never felt that need or that duty to share.

The guilt comes when asked to be an activist.  It might be a stretch to compare my aversion to today's abortion protesters to the commandment to share the gospel, but my unwillingness to infringe on another's life philosophy is nearly as firm as my reluctance to use crappy toilet paper because it's better for the environment.  It seems as if I'm ashamed or embarrassed by my beliefs, but that is not the case.  I don't think there are many who have met me who don't quickly learn that I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  I believe it to be true.  I believe that everyone deserves the happiness and peace that comes from the knowledge of its truths.   But that hyperlink was an effort to include.  I'm counting on the fact that if you're reading this, you are, by default, asking me for my opinion:)

I think the best missionaries have that activist gene.  Even in the scriptures, some of the best missionaries were activists for the other side before they converted.  There is a passion and a fervor given to some.  Not me.

Sometimes, like today, when I think of the zealots who intimidate and harass outside of hospitals or clinics or, worse, funerals of soldiers, I am content to be the type who lets things be.

Other times, I wish I had that gene.

Sunday Thoughts - I Love To Laugh

My sister, Sarah, came to spend her Christmas vacation with us.  With a closet full of four different kinds of scented body wash I had recently purchased at a Bath and Body Works sale, I sent her to our guest suite ( I prefer the term over a family-room-with-a-bed-in-the-middle-of-it) with a towel and a bottle of Warm Vanilla Sugar for her shower.

The next morning, she told me I had given her lotion instead of soap, to which I firmly replied, "No.  It's just a creamy body wash."  Because I have older sister authority, she simply shrugged and said, "Oh."

Her accusation struck a nerve, however, because while I was using my own Midnight Pomegranate body wash the next morning, I re-read the directions on the back of the bottle.

"Massage into skin, especially dry spots and indulge in the luxury of..."  yada, yada, yada.

I read it again, looking for the verbs I thought should be there, like, "Lather.  Cleanse.   Rinse."

They weren't there.

Suddenly, my mystifying acne outbreak and overall less squeaky clean feeling the past two weeks had an explanation.

I was washing myself, including my face, with...lotion.

Sarah had a great laugh from my greasy mistake and after a day, I was finished feeling embarrassed and thought it was funny too.

It was perplexing to have lather-less soap.

I meant to blog about it but never found the time, which felt disappointing because I love having a good laugh at myself.

Actually, I just love to laugh.  I have three funny children who keep my laughter gauge pointing towards full.  I have a funny husband who frequently performs my favorite dance moves of his because he loves to hear me laugh.  And, blessedly, I have friends and family who supply me with the kinds of stories, shared memories and knowing glances that get me my necessary daily dose of guffaw.

Like I explained with the above story involving lotion disguised as soap (O.K.  They are perfectly labeled and just misused by someone who never bothered to look at the fine print), I am totally comfortable using myself as the butt of the joke.  It's safe.  I know I can't hurt my own feelings and it's like using a triple coupon if I can get others to join in the mirth.

Today in Relief Society, because it seemed to fit and, more likely, because I can't help myself, I made fun of my recent attempts to learn the art of knitting.  There were several women in the room who have been attending the weekly class alongside me who could appreciate my joke as they've seen me struggle week after week to grasp the motions of knit and purl.   I made the comment as I referenced a past message given by President Uchtdorf about our divine desire to create.  It was my way of acknowledging that, while I struggle with some of the more characteristically feminine talents (knitting, sewing, quilting, decorating, baking, canning, recognizing lotion as lotion right away), I also recognize my own spark of divinity when I write, or sing or enjoy the three boys I helped develop in utero and continue to help develop in the high altitude Colorado air.

My comment produced the chuckle I was hoping it would, but, later during the meeting, another sister followed with a comment about how we shouldn't tear ourselves down and while, perhaps I wasn't a natural knitter, what was more important than actually knitting was that I was persevering in trying to learn to knit.  That that act was the quality that mattered to God and to my own spirit, instead of the actual skill or craft.

I appreciated her rah-rah Lucy speech, but felt a little bad that she might think that I felt a little bad about not being a good knitter.  O.K...I admit that it would be awesome to have the long, flowy orange mohair scarf produced by my own hands I originally intended to make instead of the not-even-halfway-finished brown potholder that my teacher suggested I try instead, because I had an untapped natural knitting talent that this class had unleashed.  But, that didn't happen.  The next best thing, for me, is to find the humor in my extremely unsightly but hopefully useful potholder.

This woman made me wonder, however.  When are we tearing ourselves and others down, and when are we finding joy in the journey?  Are my poking-fun-of-myself comments harmful to my soul?  I felt self-conscious afterwards wondering if she might think I was fishing for compliments, like the, "I'm so fat" declaration made by the perfectly proportioned girl.    Was I?

I don't think so.   I will admit that there is some wisdom in the saying to "laugh at yourself first, before anyone else can", but I also believe, unless I am completely deluding myself, that to be comfortable laughing at myself also means that I am comfortable with who I am.  I have confidence.  I like myself.  Those aren't bad things, right?

I ask because, while I love to laugh, maybe what I'm laughing at isn't very funny to anyone else.  Maybe I'm like that clueless uncle or guest that thinks he's funny/interesting/entertaining and all anyone else really wants is for him to stop talking.   Although, even wondering aloud makes me worry about appearing to fish for compliments again.

I can't imagine I'll stop laughing at myself.  The pool of available subjects to safely poke fun of is just too sparsely populated.   But, maybe if it makes people uncomfortable, I might stop airing my goofs and bloopers.

You'll just have to wonder how my skin magically cleared up.

Now...for the uplifting part.  Watch this!

34!

Nothing extraordinarily special surrounds one's 34th birthday. I suppose it's twice the number of 17, which has some awesome songs dedicated to the age (cue music by Winger, ABBA, the Beatles, Stevie Nicks), but, alas, no one has written a song about being 34 (100 years by Five For Fighting choose to highlight the much more aesthetically pleasing "33", which, I can't say I blame him).

So, to honor 34, which I've decided is going to be the best year yet, here are 34 things you may or may not know about me.

1. I don't like applying lotion. I don't mind once it is on, but I find the smeary semi-liquid mess in my hand annoying. Usually, I forgo it altogether until my skin starts to resemble an alligator's then I succumb to its tortures and deal with the goop.

2. If someone asks me what my favorite song is, I almost always immediately think of "When Doves Cry" by Prince or "Sweet Dreams" by Eurythmics. I don't think either song is actually my favorite, although I do like both of them a lot. Seems 1983-84 were pretty important as far as musical exposure goes.

3. I prefer full disclosure. I like to know who is all going to be at whatever I am invited to before I accept or decline. It's not like I insist or anything, but I appreciate when I know because I have been burned a time or two before (new years eve party with one other couple and their parents? Pretty much the start of me needing full disclosure).

4. I feel sad when land is ignored. Let me explain. There is a small patch of lawn at my parent's house that is separated by a walkway from the rest of the lawn. No one ever sits on it or plays on it or does anything there because it is too small and, like I said, separated by that walkway. It seems lonely to me. When I lived at home, I used to go and sit on it, just so that it got used.

5. Likewise, there is something about an abandoned road that almost brings me to tears. Seeing old highways with weeds and grass burying it alongside an interstate makes me wistful. It's not like I want to drive on it because I believe we should all be able to drive 85 mph while traveling, but I wish someone would.

6. I love all four seasons, but early fall is my favorite.

7. I hope that I'm always content with my pretty engagement ring. I understand the feelings behind the "upgrades" but I think there is something meaningful about wearing the original piece of jewelry that started it all.

8. Not to be morbid or anything, but I think I may die young-ish. I've had some dreams. That means, I'll probably live to be 100.

9. I don't like to finish products. Things like shampoo, moisturizer, sunscreen, foundation, soda, etc. I will almost always buy a new container before it's all the way gone and then start using the new stuff. Totally wasteful, but there is something anxiety producing about squeezing out those last few ounces.

10. On the other hand, that same feeling of anxiety arises when the garbage is approaching full capacity. It goes beyond just annoyance that the garbage is almost full. Like...it's stressful. I know that soon, I'm going to have to start mushing things down (gross) or things will topple out and only smaller items will fit. I guess it's similar in that whatever I need is running out.

11. I know so much more about NASCAR than I ever thought I would. So much more.

12. I'm a huge fan of the Tootsie Roll.

13. I almost like tomatoes. I've started ordering them on hamburgers and sandwiches (or, more accurately, stopped asking for the covert fruit to be removed) and can finish those now without any gagging. I've also recently begun to enjoy chunky salsa and pico. But, I still can't eat tomatoes as a solo food.

14. I think if you can afford to travel, you should. Go see the world and let the world see you. Honestly, I think of it more as a responsibility in acquiring knowledge and empathy than a luxury.

15. I'm still hoping to be a pedal-playing organist. I know all I need is practice.

16. My dream bathtub is one that has an overflow feature. You know, the water comes right to the edge and beyond. No more exposed knees.

17. Having a nice smile is something I hope I will no longer take for granted. After years of watching my front tooth darken, I finally got to the point where I didn't feel comfortable smiling for pictures with my teeth showing or, even worse, I could tell people I talked to were distracted by my dark tooth and were embarrassed for me. It's on the mend with some internal tooth bleaching I finally had.

18. I hope there is dancing in the eternities.

19. This is taking a lot longer than I want it to so the last fourteen are going to be random and probably not so deep into my soul.

20. I'm not a s'mores fan. But I'll eat them. Just for the chocolate.

21. I used to love to fly but now, if I can drive there, I think I almost prefer to. It's stressful, from the cost, to check-in, to taking off shoes, to sitting next to a stranger. I feel like cattle.

22. I wish I were more adventurous with style, but I've realized that I like clothes from the GAP (or Old Navy), like my hair on the blonder side and about shoulder length and shoes that serve a variety of outfits.

23. Marriage is more work than I ever thought it would be (even up to only a few years ago. I never understood those who said marriage was work because it never really was for me). Now that we've had some real stresses (illness, moves, jobs, Henry), I get it. But it's still so worth it.

24. I don't look good in blue eyeshadow.

25. I really love to sing. The less frequent the opportunities become, the stronger the desire seems to grow.

26. I've never had a manicure. Ever. Am I missing out on something?

27. I have a hard time eating meat off a bone (psychologically). Or meat with some kind of skin. Or really fatty meat. Or mixed meat. I'd be a vegetarian if I didn't like eating it all the other possible ways.

28. When I see pictures of myself, I sometimes think my eyes look crossed.

29. I'm really hoping this is the year when I can be consistently better. At flossing. At exercising. At eating the way I should. At visiting teaching. At wifing and mothering. 34 and even keel would be kind of nice.

30. If I ever do go to a NASCAR race, I'm paying for the ride-a-long. Going 200 mph with a professional driver seems like a good time to me.

31. I think Seth is like his dad. I think Sam is like me. I'm really not sure where Henry came from. If I hadn't birthed him in dramatic fashion, I'd wonder. Blue eyes, short, likes to put off until tomorrow what he can do today. Oh, wait.....

32. I'm a big time words of affirmation girl. To me, it seems like the easiest of all the love language (in case you don't know, the 5 are 1)words of affirmation (tell me you like me!), 2) physical touch,3) quality time, 4) acts of service and 5) gifts). Reading all the facebook birthday messages has pretty much made my day. Comments on this post wouldn't hurt either;)

33. Likewise, I will love you with words. I try to make sure I cover all the other stuff too, because I know we're all different and all feel loved differently, but it's how I show you I like you. I tell you. No mistakin'.

34. I don't like crunchy peanut butter.

There you go. 34 more things about me. I'm taking a big breath right now because I can. I love being alive. I love being me. I love having you all to love. Thanks for making my existence so sweet.

Because I Feel Like Blogging....but don't have much to say

1. First thing you wash in the shower? My Hair. After about 5 minutes of just standing there.

2. What color is your favorite hoodie? This assumes I have a bunch of them. I have one, it's not my favorite anything, and it is white.

3. Do you plan outfits? Only when packing for trips.

4. How are you feeling RIGHT now? Like I should probably get off the computer and clean my house.

5. Whats the closest thing to you that's red? A quilt my mother-in-law made me.

6. Tell me about the last dream you remember having? As soon as I try to nail down a dream, it vanishes. I honestly can't remember anything.

7. Did you meet anybody new today? No. Yesterday I did, though.

8. What are you craving right now? A fountain soda. Or chocolate. Or something spicy.

9. What comes to mind when I say cabbage? Cole slaw.

10. Are you emotional? Embarrassingly so.

11. Have you ever counted to 1,000? Yes. I count backwards from 100 in my head all them time when I'm trying to fall asleep. I'm pretty sure I've done it 10 times in a row on those nights I have insomnia.

12. Do you bite into your ice cream or just lick it? Definitely a biter. I hate the tingly numb tongue.

13. Do you like your hair? It needs to be cut pretty badly. I'm thinking of going a bit shorter.

14. Do you like yourself? I do. I bring things to the table. But, I am fully aware of my lameness too.

15. Would you go out to eat with George W. Bush? Totally. The guy is a hoot.

16. What are you listening to right now? Henry getting into something he shouldn't. (turned around and saw him spooning out some peanut butter).

17. Are your parents strict? No. Not at all. It was a shock being at BYU my freshman year because I literally had more rules to follow...AT COLLEGE...than I did at home in high school. I loved my childhood.

18. Would you go sky diving? I've always said "yes" but after my little..errr...panic attack on the mountain, I wonder if I mean it.

19. Do you like cottage cheese? I don't hate it but don't think I've ever once truly felt like eating it.

20. Have you ever met a celebrity? I sang on stage with Marie Osmond in high school. And I waved to President Monson once in Rexburg Idaho at Frontier Pies (or Perkins. Or Marie Callisters).

21. Do you rent movies often? We do the Netflix thing so definitely yes.

22. Is there anything sparkly in the room you're in? I have looked and looked and can't find anything.

23. How many countries have you visited? Canada, Mexico, China, Germany, Czech Republic, Austria, Switzerland, Belgium, Guatemala, Dominican Republic, Thailand and Myanmar. 12 with more to come!

24. Have you made a prank phone call? I think this question will be obsolete soon with caller ID etc. Back in the day, when anonymity was still possible, I used to call and hang up on people (boys) quite frequently. I mentioned before that I am aware of my lameness.

25. Ever been on a train? Yes. I love the clickity clack.

26. Brown or white eggs? I have never, ever bought brown eggs. I don't even like to think about eggs after someone told me you could see the "umblical cord" coming out of the yolk when you crack them. I don't like to think of eggs as undeveloped birds, and for some reason the brown ones seem more...fowly. So, white.

27. Do you have a cell-phone? I do. I used to lose them a lot but then I got a Blackberry and am much more aware of where it is at all times. I've still lost it once, though.

28. Do you use chap stick? Not regularly. But I'm not against it or anything.

29. Do you own a gun? No. I wonder if I ever will. Kind of doubt it, but you never know.

30. Can you use chop sticks? I can fake it but I don't think I hold them right.

31. Who are you going to be with tonight? I'm going to book club so with a bunch of women I'm still not all that comfortable around, and my friend, Sue.

32. Are you too forgiving? Can you be too forgiving? I don't think so. However, if the intent of the question is, "Are you spineless?" then probably.

33. Ever been in love? I have and am.

34. What is your best friend(s) doing tomorrow? Reading radiological films in a small town an hour away.

35. Ever have cream puffs? Yes and I like them cold.

36. Last time you cried? Tuesday (i.e. the hike).

37. What was the last question you asked? Do you want to watch a cartoon (to Henry so that he had something to do while I blogged).

38. Favorite time of the year? Early fall.

39. Do you have any tattoos? No. I find them...unbecoming.

40. Are you sarcastic? Yes. With certain people.

41. Have you ever seen The Butterfly Effect? I usually don't watch Ashton Kutcher movies, although I did enjoy That 70s show. I think the theory is pretty cool, though.

42. Have you ever walked into a wall? Totally.

43. Favorite color? Definitely dark brown.

44. Have you ever slapped someone? I backhanded my sister, Jen, when we were in high school. She even had a black eye.

45. Is your hair curly? Yes. But thin so easy to straighten.

46. What was the last CD you bought? U2's No Line On The Horizon. And I'm going to the concert in Vegas in October!

47. Do looks matter? They shouldn't but in my shallower moments, they can.

48. Could you ever forgive a cheater? I don't know. I'd like to think so, but....yeah....I don't know.

49. Is your phone bill sky high? Cell phone bill is quite a lot because we both have these blackberrys to pay for. But, not because we are chatty. We don't even come close to going over our combined 700 minutes.

50. Do you like your life right now? There are many areas that could improve, but I am also very aware of my blessings.

51. Do you sleep with the TV on? Never. I can't even fall asleep with the light on, much less a strobe light with accompanying noise.

52. Can you handle the truth? I can. My weakness is in thinking others can't.

53. Do you have good vision? The one part of my body that has never had any problems.

54. Do you hate or dislike more than 3 people? Dislike, definitely. I'm not a hater, though.

55. How often do you talk on the phone? Several times a day. It's not my favorite thing, though, as my sisters can attest to. I'd rather stay connected with other means. #1 would be face to face. #2 would be via written word (email, blogs, old-fashioned letters). #3- the phone. A necessary evil.

56. What are you wearing? Dark brown capris and a red t-shirt.

57. What is your favorite animal? I like animals in general, but none specifically.

58. Where was your default picture taken? On my couch in my living room.

59. Can you hula hoop? I used to be able to, but I wonder if my hips still have it in them.

60. Do you have a job? Luckily not one I can get fired from or I probably would.

61. What was the most recent thing you bought? I bought $50 worth of books at the buy-one-get-one-free book fair at the school yesterday. I added up all my savings, though, and would have spent $172 on the books individually (the hardback books I bought were all on sale).

62. Have you ever crawled through a window? I remember crawling through my friend Lisa's window for some reason and landing really hard on my head on her bedroom floor. I can't remember why I was sneaking into her house, but I did. And I'm pretty sure I was quickly found out and possibly asked to leave. Luckily, I didn't have strict parents and never needed to find out if I could have fit through our tiny, basement, non-egress windows.

A Look Back Meme

***20 YEARS AGO (1989)***
1) How old were you? 13
2) Who were you dating? Eighth grade. I was tall. I had acne. There was no romance.
3) Where did you work? I was cleaning my dad's law office.
4) Where did you live? My home was in Montana but I didn't wear a bandana.
5) Where did you hang out? I spent a lot of time walking home from school with friends. Mostly at their or my house.
6) Did you wear contacts and/or glasses? Nope.
7) Who were your best friends? Jill, Diane, Kari, Maya, Brooke, Lisa (even though we had different groups of friends). My siblings - always.
8) How many tattoos did you have? 0
9) How many piercings did you have? 0
10) What kind of car did you drive? Jon let me steer the Subaru sometimes.
11) Had you been to a real party? Does real mean alcohol was there? Then no. But we had some pretty good times without it.
12) Had you had your heart broken. No. I didn't tell anyone who my crushes were on.
13) Were you Single/Dating/Taken/Married/Divorced? Single.
14) Any kids? NO.

***15 YEARS AGO (1994)***

1) How old were you? 18.
2) Who were you dating? March of my freshman year in college. I was googly eyed about a boy named Cory who worked at the Copy Center, but we only went on one date with each other. I spent A LOT of time crossing through the HBLL to check him out, though.
3) Where did you work? Mercifully - my freshman year was the only year of college when I didn't work.
4) Where did you live? M. Smith Hall at BYU. In the basement.
5) Where did you hang out? Twice a week at the Edge.
6) Did you wear contacts and/or glasses? No.
7) Who were your best friends? Jill and Diane via letters. Valerie and Michelle as roommates. My siblings - always.
8) How many tattoos did you have? None but there was a really close call that year. Thankfully - the tattoo parlor claimed they couldn't give me a Kokopelli on my hip, a shape I loved at the time and wore constantly on a chain.
9) How many piercings did you have? 5! Three in my left ear and two in my right. Years of suppression made me a little piercing happy. Thankfully, ears were still the only thing most people pierced or I may have more holes.
10) What kind of car did you drive? A piece of junk Ford Tempo.
11) Had you been to a real party? Yes. 1994 and 1995 were full of them.
12) Had you had your heart broken? Yes.
13) Were you Single/Taken/Married/Divorced? Single but dating.
14) Any kids? No.

***10 YEARS AGO (1999)***
1) How old were you? 23
2) Who were you dating? Jay and I had been married for a 2 1/2 years.
3) Where did you work? In a diagnostic virology laboratory at a Denver hospital.
4) Where did you live? We still lived in our one bedroom apt in Cherry Creek but we'd soon move to an apartment about a 1/2 mile away from the medical school and hospital. 766 1/2!
5) Where did you hang out? There wasn't a lot of hanging out this first year of med school. But we did make friends with several other couples in our ward that led to some of the best friendships of our lives.
6) Did you wear contacts and/or glasses? No.
7) Who were your best friends? Jay, Jill, Christi, Libby, my siblings - always.
8) How many tattoos did you have? None.
9) How many piercings did you have? I think I still had all 5 earrings in. This was before the other counsel was given.
10) What kind of car did you drive? Jay's Carribean Mist 1995 Subaru Impreza. I could spot our car anywhere.
11) Had you been to a real party? Not lately.
12) Had you had your heart broken? No. Jay solved that problem.
13) Were you Single/Taken/Married/Divorced? Married
14) Any kids? Nope. But we were desperately trying that year. And that was the year we finally got pregnant!

***5 YEARS AGO (2004)***
1) How old were you? 28
2) Who were you dating? Jay and I had been married for seven years.
3) Where did you work? At home.
4) Where did you live? In our California Split in Spokane.
5) Where did you hang out? At the park across the street. In the hospital cafeteria (free meals!)
6) Did you wear contacts and/or glasses? No - I've never needed them.
7) Who were your best friends? Jay, KariAnn, Andrea, Jen (who counts as one of my siblings but we were only two hours apart and we hung out a lot). My siblings - always!
8) How many tattoos did you have? None.
9) How many piercings did you have? I listened to a prophet's voice and cut back to two.
10) What kind of car did you drive? This was the year we purchased our first and probably last brand new car. A 2004 Chrysler Town & Country Minivan that I still drive.
11) Had you been to a real party? This question...bugs me. Yes. I love parties. I consider any party to be real.
12) Had you had your heart broken? Not in a long time.
13) Were you Single/Taken/Married/Divorced? Married
14) Any kids? 2. Seth was 4 and Sammy 1.

***TODAY (2009)***
1) How old are you? 33
2) Who are you dating? Jay still fills my dance card.
3) Where do you work? At home.
4) Where do you live? In a rental house.
5) Where do you hang out? At this rental house - WAY too much.
6) Do you wear contacts and/or glasses? No.
7) Who are your best friends? Jay. I'm in transition. I have lots of fantastic long-distance friendships and a few nice new friends here. And my siblings - always.
8) How many tattoos do you have? None
9) How many piercings do you have? 2 that I use.
10) What kind of car do you drive? Same minivan. It's a lot dirtier now.
11) Have you been to a real party? Not in a while.
12) Have you had your heart broken? Yes.
13) Are you Single/Taken/Married/Divorced? Married
14) Any kids? 3. The boys. My life.

The Poster Child

I have recently embarked on the life path of buying Mary Kay products. I say that because 1) I actually like the products and find the price competitive to similar quality products from Clinique, Estee Lauder and Lancome, and 2) because I happened to have purchased my skin care line from an ambitious lady.

I did not know this when I naively accepted an offer to have my neighbor come to my home to do my "colors" for me. I thought it would be kind of fun but soon realized as she kept rolling out the paraphernalia that this was business. Serious business. Being the sucker that I am, by the end of my session, I was $200 poorer.

This same neighbor of mine is clearly making her way up the Mary Kay ladder. Recently, she started cruising around in a shiny new black SUV with the Mary Kay insignia emblazoned on the back. She is also, as I discovered last night, a trainer for up and coming newbie Mary Kay ladies.

Several months ago, she started sending me evites to a Mary Kay party where you get a make-over and there are door prizes and food and all sorts of super fun. I have declined (ignored) the invitation for months, but when she personally called me, I found myself unable to say no. She offered me half off a brush set if I would be willing to have her do my "colors" again, for newbie training, and having a newly discovered desire for a brush set (as of her offer), I agreed.

I went to the "party"...early even because there was an early-bird door prize, and realized it was just me with four Mary Kay ladies in business suits. There was supposed to be one other victim/customer/willing participant but she had the sixth sense not to show up.

With all eyes on me, I sat still while Miss Mary Kay described my face shape, why she was choosing the colors she was and what "look" we were going for. I had my choice: natural, classic or dramatic, and with much boldness decided on dramatic.

For about 45 minutes, I followed her instructions and washed, buffed, moisturized, applied and puckered until I was deemed adequately dramatic looking. Then, I had to sit there and listen to all four ladies give me compliments about how fabulous I looked.

There was the awkward plugging for their products, which she disguised as letting the other Mary Kay ladies know about what the company's current offers were and the even more awkward sharing of my opinion about how I was not interested in starting my own home business. With those out of the way, Miss Mary Kay was ready for my order.

What? I just came for the brush set. But, as she circled all the things she used to get me looking so, so fabulous, I sensed my defense softening and ordered two things. Help!

I really like Mary Kay but I think I may need to start screening my phone calls. Or grow a backbone.

If these before and after shots don't make you a believer in their cause, I don't know what else will.

I've still got nothing.....

My blogging rut is rapidly turning in blogging apathy so I'll give a meme a try.

1. Do you like blue cheese? No. But I have had a few salads with blue cheese crumbles on it that I liked. But as a creamy dressing....no.
2. Have you ever smoked? I've had a puff but I'm fairly certain that, like Clinton, I didn't inhale (I know. More things you didn't know about me, Mom and Dad. Sorry).
3. Do you own a gun? No. I don't know if I could actually shoot someone and having one around the house seems like an accident waiting to happen. Although, I won't say "never."
4. What flavor Kool-Aid was your favorite? Fruit Punch.
5. Do you get nervous about doctor appointments? Only if they expect me to stand on a scale. Seriously. Stirrups have nothin' on that scale.
6. What do you think of hot dogs? I don't really think about hot dogs. I don't really think a great deal about any meat because if I did, I'm pretty sure I'd be a vegetarian and I enjoy being a carnivore.
7. Favorite Christmas movie? I'd say Christmas Vacation, because it's funny, but I had my very first kiss during that movie and it isn't my favorite memory. I love About A Boy.
8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Oddly enough, I don't habitually drink with my meals so I can't say my breakfasts regularly include a beverage, BUT, if I'm at a hotel and there is a schmorgasbord of drink choices, I usually choose cranberry juice.
9. Can you do push-ups? On my knees. But I don't think those count. So....no. Sad.
10. What's your favorite piece of jewelry? Definitely my engagement ring. It's perfect for me.
11. Favorite hobby? Reading. No question.
12. Do you have ADD? I don't think so. I can sit still for QUITE a while without a problem.
13. What's one trait you hate about yourself? I'm too moody for my own good. If I could simply stay up all the time, I think I could fly over any hurdle in my path.
14. Middle initial? NMN (that stands for No Middle Name). But I did give myself a middle name...Beth. So, it could be B. But I use an H for my maiden name in my signature.
15. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment? Why haven't I taken off my shoes? Stephen Colbert doesn't seem as funny as he used to be. I need to go pick up my holds at the library.
16. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink? Water. Milk. Diet Dr. Pepper.
17. Current worry? I have to come up with some games for the neighborhood Christmas party this weekend. I have a few ideas but they all require quite a bit of effort and I'm trying to avoid a big production.
18. Current hate right now? A full garbage can. It always seems to be three things too full.
19. Favorite place to be? In a hot bath reading a book.
20. How did you ring in the new year? I honestly can't remember. Obviously nothing very memorable. If I was with you....sorry.
21. Where would you like to go? Anywhere. Seriously. I can't name a place where I wouldn't like to go. Well...perhaps Somalia right now. With the pirate problem and civil war, tourism is probably down.
22. Name 3 people to tag? I don't tag because then Memes like this give me anxiety and this is just for fun.
23. Do you own slippers? I do. I usually have hot feet though so I only wear them in the morning. If I happen to know where they are.
24. What shirt are you wearing? A red sweater with a black Shade shirt underneath.
25. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets? I don't think so. Too slippery. We have flannel sheets...probably as opposite to satin as you can get.
26. Can you whistle? Yes.
27. Favorite color? Chocolate brown.
28. Would you be a pirate? Why? I can see no advantage to a pirate's way of life, at all.
29. What songs do you sing in the shower? I do like to sing in the shower. Good acoustics. I can't think of any regulars, though. Today I kept singing O Holy Night and kept changing keys to see how high I could go on the big note (di-viiiiiiiiiiiiiiine). I'm happy to report that my range has improved from my Alto II days.
30. Favorite girl's name? I'd name a daughter Clara Beth. Clara because I think it's beautiful and Beth after me:)
31. Favorite boy's name? I truly love the name Henry. I wanted a Henry long before we had our children. But I equally love Seth and Samuel now, too. And, of course, I love the name Jay. Hearing it, saying it, reading it makes me happy.
32. What's in your pocket right now? No pockets in my black skirt.
33. Last thing that made you laugh? Something I heard while listening to Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me today in the car.
34. What vehicle do you drive? A 2004 Chrysler Town and Country.
35. Worst injury? Dislocating my shoulder while jet skiing when I was 17. It still gives me trouble.
36. Do you love where you live? I do love it. It has its flaws, like everyplace, but I have to admit I'm pretty blessed to live where I do. As far as our house...no.
37. How many TVs do you have in your house? 2
38. Who is your loudest friend? Hmmm. Interesting question. A lot of my friends tend to be on the quiet side. But I'm not quiet. I hope that doesn't mean that I am the loudest because loud people can bug me.
39. Do you have any pets? No. Been there...done that. Big mistake.
40. Does someone have a crush on you? Sam does right now. He frequently says he wants to marry me. Awwwwww.
41. Your favorite book? Mrs. Mike, for sentimental reasons. To Kill A Mockingbird for scope and purpose. Angle of Repose for pure feeling.
42. Do you collect anything? No. But I could collect not quite finished soda cans. Something about those last 2 ounces I can't force myself to drink.
43. Favorite sports team? I cheer for the Broncos and the BYU Cougars. But I was a much bigger fan when we actually lived in Denver and Utah.
44. What song do you want played at your funeral? I'd love to have Arethra Franklin sing Amazing Grace at my funeral. My favorite hymn is Know This, That Every Man Is Free. I'd love someone with a really nice voice to sing that acapella. And a full choir with orchestra accompaniment to sing My Shepherd Will Supply My Need. Good thing I'll be dead so I can't be disappointed.

Snapshot

I saw this on a few of my friends' blogs and loved the focused perspective it gives to a moment. I am going to try and type the first thing that comes to my head.

i am...overly sensitive.
i think...all the time.
i know...my limits.
i want...to want less.
i have...a dead tooth I need to fix.
i dislike...exaggeration.
i miss...dancing with abandon.
i fear...overhearing someone making fun of me.
i feel...hungry.
i hear...Henry not falling asleep.
i smell...the room warmed by sunshine.
i crave...tootsie rolls.
i cry...silently.
i usually...keep up with what's going on in the world.
i search...for truth.
i wonder...if the Wiggles really enjoy singing for children.
i regret...spending too much time waiting for tomorrow.
i love...my family.
i worry...that my children deserve better.
i am not...easily persuaded.
i remember...thinking I looked good in flannel.
i believe...there is a Plan of Happiness.
i dance...when I'm unloading the dishwasher.
i don't...think the world is as bad as the news makes it out to be.
i write...what I wish I could say.
i win...quietly.
i lose...my sunglasses. A lot.
i wish...I were in the best shape of my life.
i listen...for the garage door around dinner time.
i don't understand...why people can't see both sides.
i can usually be found...with several books checked out under my name.
i am scared...of all sorts of bugs.
i need to lose...my usual excuses.
i forget...to do my visiting teaching WAY too often.
i am happy...that I never legally changed my name to Diane in 7th grade.

SPT - Something Borrowed

I am in some serious need of lightening up. I'm feeling a lot less stressed today (apparently, I needed a day to recuperate from my trip) and wanted to project a more positive vibe on the ol' blog.

Because I can't come up with anything on my own, I'm going to indulge in SPT today but "borrow" a meme...because they can be easy and fun.

5 things you do every morning.

1. Wish Seth and Henry could sleep in.
2. Ask Seth if he needs more breakfast (his usual reply is, "yes")
3. check my email.
   
4. go to the bathroom (that probably should have gone first...but I'm just going with the flow!)
5. change Henry's diaper.
   

5 things you look forward to each year.

1. My birthday
2. Fall
3. Travel - wherever it is.
4. visitors
5. Christmas music

5 things you’ve recently watched on TV.

1. The Office
2. PBS Masterpiece Theater
3. Law & Order
4. La Femme Nikita (Season 2)
5. One of the Jazz playoff games

5 things you’ve read recently, (they can be online or off.)

1. Hope Was Here
2. News About Myanmar
   
3. God Wants A Powerful People
4. Politifact about the presidential candidates
   
5. Blogs
   

5 of your favorite restaurants.

1. Chipotle
2. Cafe Rio
3. Staggering Ox
4. Twigs in Spokane
5. Claimjumpers
   

Smile!

I just got an email telling me I won the Good Read's April Good Review's contest in the category of Fiction for my review of A Thousand Splendid Suns. I didn't even know there was a contest! In fact, I just wrote that review for my blog and then cut and pasted it into GoodReads. The whole first two paragraphs about how I bought the book in Taiwan and didn't feel like reading it and yada, yada, yada seem so....superfluous. I feel a little like I just got caught on Candid Camera and, thankfully, didn't do anything really embarrassing. I mean, it's totally flattering. I am flattered. But...now...I mean...now...I know the camera may be on and I feel a bit like I should look the part of a book reviewer. You know...not write book reviews in my pajamas. I at least need a pencil behind my ear.

I thought this was funny considering what my last post was about. Add "may unknowingly win an award on the world wide web" to my commercial about writing book reviews.

They gave me $20 at Amazon.com.

Dream big, people, dream big.

How And Why

People often ask me, "How do you read so many books?"

I understand that anyone who asks this already knows the answer: I spend a lot of time reading. Ta-da!

I'm left wondering what they really want to know. Are they asking if I ignore my children (sometimes) or if I have a really messy house (not extremely...but I admit that the Queen of Clean does not feel her crown is threatened by me)? Are they asking me if I have some sort of superpower (of course) or if I only skim the books I review (very rarely...because what's the point of reading if you don't care about the details)?

I also understand why they are asking. I ask the same question all the time to other people. Only I ask about different things. How do you stay so organized? How do you manage to be so thin? How do you always have the perfect piece of jewelry for every outfit?

I think we all want to hear that this person has more hours in the day, more money, more support, more....anything...than we personally do because then we could justify why we can't or don't do it too.

But, I believe the answer to all of these questions is....we do it because it's something that's important to us.

Reading, and being a reader, is important to me.

There are times I wish I had others' priorities. I wish I cared more about my body. I wish I couldn't sit still until my bed was made and my sink sparkling. I wish every time I had a reason to dress up, I had the perfect pair of shoes to match a fabulous necklace.

I wish....but, instead...I read. It's my hobby. And I've come to terms that it's an o.k. hobby, flabby stomach and all purpose black sandals notwithstanding.

Looking back, I've always been a reader and throughout my adolescence, enjoyed spending many of my free Saturdays and Sundays reading all day. I have memories of wearing my super stylish green sweatpants and coming upstairs for the first time late in the day after reading in my bedroom for five or six straight hours.

Additionally, I am fortunate to be blessed with a gift...a wonderful gift. A gift that limits its benefits to me only. I enjoy the gift of being able to become completely absorbed by a good book. I don't hear someone talking to (or shouting at) me. I don't hear the phone ring. I don't get sleepy or bored or feel the need to stretch and walk around for a bit. This gift limits itself to a good novel, mind you. My gifts seem to evaporate when I attempt non-fiction or poetry. I'm as handicapped as the rest of the world when it comes to those.

When I started blogging and first posted my book reviews, I immediately discovered the bonus of writing about what I read.

To begin with, writing book reviews turned a hobby into a goal. During my first year of blogging, I set a goal to read fifty books in a year. Nine and a half months later, I finished my fiftieth book and immediately began the next year's goal of reading seventy-five books.

Having a set number mattered to me. That magical number of fifty or seventy-five always kept me reading but more importantly, it kept me reading better books. As I knew I'd be writing about each book, I've been much better at choosing a wider variety of literature, including much more non-fiction than I would normally read, and staying away from an abundance of chick lit, beach reads, mysteries and tawdry romances. I still read them...occasionally...but having a person or two looking over my shoulder at what I'm reading makes for much more deliberate decision making.

Another bonus is that I can remember what I've read for much longer if I've written down what I thought about it. I've enjoyed developing the talent of writing a book review. Some of my reviews are much better than others, but like any talent, I feel I've gotten better the more I've practiced. With some books, now, I can see parts of my review while I'm reading. In other words, sometimes, I know what I'll get out of it even as I'm getting it.

Amazingly, I can vividly remember books I've read almost two years ago, mostly because the two or three paragraphs I took the time to jot down afterwards jogs my memories much more than reading what somebody else wrote about it on amazon.com. Really, this ability to talk about a book or character from a book I've read in the past, has made me appear much more educated and in the know than I really am. It's a super party trick.

Lastly, like anyone, I feel good when I accomplish a goal. I have until the 10th of May to get to book 75 and as of today, I have read 81. It took dedication to read 81 books in a little more than eleven months. Many times, I chose to read over watching T.V. or renting a movie. Although, I admit it also helps that our social life has been dramatically reduced by the fact that we have no couple friends besides family and many of our weekends begin with the question, "Do you want to watch a movie or would you rather read?" Jay and I sure know how to par-tay.

So, if you want to know how I read as much as I do...this is how.

I read almost every night.
I read a lot on Sundays.
I stay up late to finish a book.
Sometimes, I'll read during the day.
I shop only when necessity dictates that I have to.
I don't craft.
I don't mind if I don't go anywhere most days.
I like to travel and can get much reading done on a plane.
I'm not much of a phone talker.
I don't believe my primary role as a mother is to entertain my children. Teach, guide, cuddle with, listen to and nurture...yes. Entertain...no.
I (usually) pick books that interest me so that I actually want to read them.
I can read fast.


There you go. That's how and why I read as much as I do. If, per chance, you've asked me this question in the past, please don't feel like I wish you hadn't. Honestly, it's been good for me to discover the roots of my motivation. If I sound defensive, I'm not. Well...maybe I am a little. But, I try not to be because I do understand that it's easiest to spend our time doing the things we're good at. The trick, I think, is to spend our time doing things we should be good at.

Thankfully, that's not my area of expertise.

Tell me...what's your thing? What do you do that gets you asked, "How?"