What Happens In Vegas. . .

. . . must be blogged about! What? Were you expecting a different ending for that sentence?


If I were to pick up where I left off, you'd find me sitting back at the gate with a breakfast burrito on my lap, my book out and my phone charging against the wall. You'd witness me glaring at the three passengers whose names were called out for standby and maybe even making a few audible "hrmmmph" noises as the door to the tarmac was closed.

Then.

They called for a very foreign sounding name to come check-in because they had one more seat available for standby and I watched as no one approached the desk. They called it once more and then...

they called my name!!!! They didn't pronounce it right. More like luh-key, but I gathered my charger, phone, book and two carry ons (I left the burrito) and ran, shouting, "I'm here!" They didn't even re-check my ticket or anything but just opened the door and I ran down the tarmac. There was one seat left unoccupied and it was near the front and next to a window. I did my best to hustle into my seat, despite being as jumbled and unorganized as I felt. Even though they had already insisted all electronics get turned off, I quickly called my sisters and said, "I'm coming!"

That stroke of luck, if you can call it that, saved the day. I'm not sure the rest of this post could have followed had foreign sounding guy still been at the gate to take the seat. The girls picked me up at the airport and we headed over to Sam Boyd Stadium to begin our epic wait in line to see U2.





For most of the day, we were super comfortable. At 10:00, when we arrived, there were approximately 600 people in front of us. I felt bad that I had delayed an earlier arrival, but, since rumor was that they'd let in about 2,000 into the inner circle, we felt good about our chances to be close to the stage. All of us had our own camping chair, a cooler full of food and drinks, and 85 degree weather to enjoy. It felt like hanging out beside the pool, only without any swimming. Or toe dipping.



At about 3:30, we put away the chairs, because they told us to, and stood in line for another two hours. We moved up as more and more people put their stuff away but didn't get inside the stadium until almost 6:00 pm.



Maureen was mostly anti-picture taking, but I did sneak this one off before the concert started.



Since the concert still didn't start for about an hour and a half, we sat down. It was dirty and uncomfortable, but all of our feet were hurting and we knew once the show started that we'd have about 4 more hours of standing. That isn't a really pale person between Emily and me, it's a cutout of Ang Sung Suu Kyi, the woman who was elected through a democratic process as leader of Myanmar who has been under house arrest for 14 years and was never allowed by the military junta to serve in her elected position. U2's song, "Walk On" is about her and we were each given a mask to wear during the song.



The Black Eyed Peas opened for U2. I thought it kind of a miss-match, which it was, but they are really good performers and I enjoyed their set. I think Fergie was looking at me. I had to shake my head that, no, I couldn't come up on stage and be her back-up dancer. I forgot to wear anything bedazzled and you need that up on stage.



Will.i.am and his key-tar.



The other members of black eyed peas whose names I do not know. Although, I was very surprised how familiar I was with their music. I was only expecting to know a song or two, but I was Boom, Boom Powing with the best of them.



Fergie sining her solo "Big Girls Don't Cry". I sang along to that too. I am much more hip than I thought.




Every girl needs to try going to a concert on a sister's weekend. If you don't have sisters, adopt some. I highly recommend these particular sisters. They are loads of fun.



All the suckers who didn't have as good of a spot as us. Of course, their feet probably felt a lot better too.



U2 show begins....

I took about 250 pictures during the concert. It was impossible to select my favorites so I just chose one of each of the band members. We were so close to the stage! If it hadn't been for my superfan sisters, I would have bought a bleach seat and been happy with it. I will confess that I was not at all excited about spending a precious day waiting in line surrounded by other superfans I had no genetic sympathy for. But, I can say it now. It was worth it. It was so fun. Beyond fun. It was an experience. I can't remember when I had that kind of energy to sing and dance and jump and scream. It made me young again. Even though I could barely get out of the car to get inside the hotel after the concert. Then...I wasn't feeling so young.



This is what concerts look like now that cell phones and cameras are allowed. it's crazy. So much for bootleg copies of things:)



Bono is the consummate performer. I don't know how he does it night after night, but he makes it a show. He is very fun to watch and most of my really great pictures are of him.



I think I made eye contact with every member of the band except The Edge. He just never looked at me. He did very little running around and mostly stayed close to his spot, but, there is something so likable about him. He has kind eyes. Not to mention, fancy bedazzled jeans.



You think I'm joking, but I seriously think Larry is looking at me here. I was really close to the stage, and I'm tall, and I had a really big camera.



Adam's bass makes the songs complete.



At one point, Bono was on the bridge that connects the stage with the 360 degree circle that surrounds it (and we were between the two. Thus, the "inner circle." While he was on the bridge, it started moving directly over our heads. I had to take a picture to show how close I was. This is with no zoom and those are my fingers. Almost touching!


It was such a memorable night. I loved the concert and the chance to experience that with my beloved sisters. Such a highlight for year 34! I will post the rest of the pictures on facebook.



The next morning, after sleeping in until 9:30 (delicious), we went and did some minor shopping at some outlet stores. We weren't there long, but long enough for us to all spend some money. Afterwards, we went and had lunch at Cafe Rio. Not very exciting for those who live in Utah, but fantastic for those of us needing a hit of a sweet pork salad!



Maureen wouldn't pose as there is no forcing her, so here are four of us.



One of my very best childhood friends is also a live-and-die U2 fan and came from Seattle to see the show. We didn't see each other at the concert, but I did get to spend about 45 minutes with her at the Venetian Hotel before going to our Cirque de Soleil show. She manages a dermatologist's office so has flawless skin. After looking at this picture, I had a sudden urge to exfoliate! So, pretty, Lisa:)



Have you been to a Cirque show? I've been wanting to see one for at least a decade, and am glad I went. But.

They are really weird. Amazing. Powerful. Death defying. But.

Kind of like Siegfried and Roy without the white tigers. And more balancing. On top of each other. With little clothes on. You get my point.

Anyways...that is the stage.



After the show, we walked over to the Bellagio Hotel where every fifteen minutes, there is a stunning water fountain display choreographed to music. It was beautiful. One of the features that convinced me to buy the Nikon D5000 is that it had a video feature, but I was so disappointed to discover that the sound on it stinks. Still, you get a sense of the power, majesty and elegance that draw crowds of thousands.




I had such a great time. Hopefully, we'll do it again soon. Hopefully next time, we'll have Tara and my mom along too.

Losing the Race

Have you ever pretended you were on the Amazing Race while flying? Perhaps I'm the only nerd out there (though I doubt it), but it can make the torture that flying has become tolerable if I imagine I'm competing against my fellow passengers to get to the terminal/baggage claim first...anything to make it all more interesting than the more realistic experience of being chattle directed to the next chute.

For months, my four sisters and I have been looking forward to a weekend getaway that includes a shared hotel suite, great food, a show and the U2 concert. Travel is fun, right? Except when things go wrong at the airport, which every Amazing Race contestant, real or pretend, can attest to.

Last night, my connecting flight in Phoenix to Las Vegas was cancelled. You'd think that there would be plenty of alternate flights connecting these two desert towns, but, apparently, that is not so. There were no other flights out of the airport that evening, and they created a new flight for all us stranded passengers at 6:00 am the next day.

Those kinds of announcements brings out the competitor in everyone, and soon, hoards of people were running down the airport terminal to the customer service desk to get a spot in line to receive the vouchers for our next flight. I kept my hustle to a speed walk and was in the top 20, which, when I looked behind me at the sprawling line of disgruntled travelers, felt like a good place to be.

The customer service people were efficient, swiftly issuing me a voucher for a night at the Fiesta Inn and my choice of a seat on a 6 am flight or 7:45 am flight. As part of the weekend includes general admission tickets to U2, and getting in line early to get wristbands that provide the golden ticket into the coveted inner circle, I chose the 6 am flight.

The hotel voucher would have been better appreciated had some two-hundred some other people not also had the exact same attitude and destination as me. Like drag racers, we were all eying each other and jockeying for position at the baggage claim (had to pick up our luggage and re-check it in the next day), outside North Side Door #5 for the hotel shuttle (not enough room for everyone in one van) and then again from shuttle to hotel lobby where another line of all-too familiar looking people surrounded me.

I will boast that my Amazing Race skills are advantageous and had good position for each of these challenges. But then it happened: the random dose of bad luck.

There are some contestants on the Amazing Race that don't deserve to win. They constantly get lost in cities, forget details on their instructions that incur penalties or have emotional issues that keep them from being able to successfully complete tasks. To them, I say, "Good Riddance."

I do, however, feel bad when someone gets sent home for something beyond their control. A really bad taxi driver, for instance. Or problem with flights. Even though life never is, I hate it when things aren't fair.

With a three am alarm clock awaiting me, I tossed and turned all night. My subconscious was paranoid that the alarm wouldn't go off and I'd miss the 6 am flight so when it did finally beep at me, I felt relieved that the waiting was over.

I jumped in the shower which never produced a drop of warm water, which is miserable at any time of day but is especially unpleasant at three am. I attempted to de-frizz my hair with the hotel's pathetic excuse for a hair dryer and was in the lobby by 3:45 for the airport shuttle.

The van was full, since the hotel was disproportionately filled with Phoenix to Las Vegas air travelers, and another long line awaited me at the US Airways check-in desk. I knew, thanks to everyone in line having the same problem, what bad news awaited me.

The 6 am flight is cancelled.

So, now I wait. I, along with about a hundred other passengers, sit here at Gate A29 hoping for a standby seat on the 7:45 am flight. If I can't get on that flight, I've got a supposed seat on a 10:15 flight. Either way, I'll be sandwiched into the middle seat, which is not a pleasant place to be when you've got hips like mine. There is no possibility for personal space.

It's out of my control. US Airways has cost me the race, time with my sisters, and probably an inner-circle spot at the concert.

Yes, my competitive spirit has been broken. I am resigned to being chattle.

Now, to go and get me some overpriced and unappetizing breakfast.

Lessons from Oslo

Like a certain political figure who was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize last week, I was similarly surprised with an award that I did not seek, nor do I deserve. Melissa, a fellow book lover I connected with on Goodreads and who blogs at Gerbera Daisy Diaries, played the part of Norwegian Parliament and honored me with this nod to "looking great." Thank you, Melissa. You are kind.

However, unlike a certain political figure who was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize last week, and because I have done even less to earn this award than my prize garnering colleague, I must decline this honor and give credit where credit is due: a complete stranger named Lena. She is the genius behind the cute bird banner and soothing blue and green background.

Maybe Melissa just wanted to make a statement hoping to encourage me to actually do something to eventually earn this accolade. Or, perhaps my dazzling words and skill with parenthetical comments made it seem like I had a good looking blog, never mind the fact that I have only changed my template a total of four times total in the three and a half years I've been blogging and have no idea how to do anything custom. If there isn't a widget or page element for it, you won't find it on my blog.

So, with a desire to keep the integrity of the award intact, and in the hands of those who actually make an effort to have great looking blogs, I will, as the award rules instruct me to do, pass this on to five blogs that are easy on my eyes.


This award is meant as a pat on the back to those paying particular attention to their blog presentation, and goodness knows some of them look awesome! Of course none of them are pretty empty shells, so there’s no shame to mention how nice their blogs are!

Here are the rules:
1. Post the award on your blog, with the name of the person who has granted the award, and his or her blog link.

2. Pass the award to 5 other blogs that you particularly like. Remember to contact the bloggers to let them know they have been chosen for this award.

Here are my five:

1. Amy at My Words. Her photography is inspirational and makes clicking on her blog totally worth it.

2. Sue at The Mickelson Family. I love her banner and how large all of her pictures are. She also has a rocking playlist that certain Canadians enjoy:)

3. Annie at Deep Lunges and Unitards. You can tell she is an artist. Plus, she just might be the funniest blogger ever.

4. Libby at Sweet Land of Liberty. She is always changing her template to reflect the season or her mood. But, she's private, so...nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah.

5. Bekki at My Mommy Musings. She is an expert digital scrapbooker and often shares her pages. i love seeing her creativity. not to mention, my cute nieces and nephews.

May those deserving souls enjoy the fruits of their labors.

Book Review - Am I Not A Man? The Dred Scott Story

You've probably heard of Dred Scott. His is a name attached to great legal precedent much like Brown v. Board of Education and Roe v. Wade. Sadly, I recognized the name but didn't really know his story - only that it involved slavery. Shame on me.

Mark L. Shurtleff, Attorney General for the state of Utah, admits to becoming fascinated by Scott's case while in law school. Years of personal research, in addition to his studies, motivated him to write an incredibly thorough account of who Dred Scott was and the events in his life that led to his infamous case before the 1857 United States Supreme Court who decided by a seven to two majority that persons of African descent were not citizens of the United States. Included in their opinion was that the black man, whether freed or slave, had no right to legal recourse in Federal Court, and that the Missouri Compromise, which allowed slaves who became free by traveling to states where slavery was illegal to remain free, was unconstitutional. In short, Chief Justice Roger Taney ruled that a black man was not a man and had no rights. Wow.

While a summary the Scott v. Sandford case might easily enough be described in a paragraph or two, the hows and the whys of this case cannot. Shurtleff, befitting his profession, gives justice to Scott's story by putting it in context. Who was Roger Taney? Why did his former owners, the Blow family, support his bid for freedom when they themselves didn't free Scott before selling him to John Emerson? Who was the Sandford in Sandford v. Scott? Knowing who these people were in relation to Scott is important but understanding their own histories and backgrounds, and the life events that placed them in Scott's trajectory certainly fuel Shurtleff's hypothesis, along with many others, that this case, and the fallout that stemmed from it, were directly responsible for electing of Abraham Lincoln as our sixteenth president in 1860. He certainly convinced me.

When asked to review Am I Not A Man as part of an online book tour, I asked the senior editor of the publishing company what kind of feedback she was looking for. She replied, "Honest feedback." That I can do.

I enjoyed this book a lot more than I thought I would. From the book's beginning, Shurtleff can't seem to decide if he's writing a novel or a biography. Being the novel lover that I am, I felt frustrated each time Shurtleff left Scott's character to write in legalese, give a US history lesson or, worse, sermonize with hindsight. I just wanted him to pick one style of writing because the transition between the novel and biography, and even, sometimes, a legal textbook, didn't work. It felt choppy and detracted from the overall quality of his writing, which was really good.

While I can't say the problem worked itself out, I can say that I cared less about it as the book continued because I genuinely wanted to know what happened next - regardless of style. This is an important story to know and I am a better person for knowing it. Dred Scott's legacy not only comes from the equality he helped bring to all men regardless of race, but it also includes his shining example of how mankind should be: patient, true, forgiving, humble, loyal, curious, full of hope, full of charity and trusting in his creator to endure to the end.

I cheerfully recommend it to anyone with a desire to better understand our nation's history and the struggle of a slave AND man: Dred Scott. You may buy it here.

Charm City

We just spent three lovely days in the city of Baltimore, Maryland. O.K. Three is generous. We flew in on Thursday evening, spent all day Friday there and left Saturday afternoon. So, whatever. It was three days of travel. I'm counting it:)

Baltimore's nickname is Charm City and charming it was. When telling people about our destination, I had several people ask me if we would go to Washington D.C. since the two cities are so close to each other, but I wanted to spend our one full day in Baltimore, as I'd never really been there before.

I'm glad I did. The harbor, where we stayed and where the marathon (see below) centered around, was really picturesque and serene. Like most East Coast cities, there is a lot of American history there. Unfortunately, outside of this particular area, there is also a lot of crime.

I think this is why Baltimore gets a bad rap. It has the second highest crime rate/capita for a city over 250,000 people in the entire country. While I didn't see any of it, several miles of the Baltimore Marathon goes through some of their roughest neighborhoods. Jay told me it was really sketchy - like every rough looking neighborhood you've ever seen on T.V or the movies only more depressing because he saw the downtrodden who actually lived there. I learned another nickname for Baltimore is Mob City.

I only felt nervous once, when we got off the light rail train with our luggage and had half a mile to walk to our hotel in the dark of the night. Suddenly, I felt like a hick and very unsafe. It was a relief to get to our downtown digs where we could watch the many, many sirens drive by from our protective 10th floor window.



Still, our one full day there was a lot of fun. We kept our sightseeing pretty low key as Jay didn't want to be foot tired the day before his race. We spent the morning picking up his race packet and shopping at the running expo and then had a delicious seafood lunch. I packed around my camera during all of this, but have a horrible habit of leaving my memory card in my computer when downloading pictures. After a quick trip back to the hotel, we were in photo business again.

We toured two ships they have docked in the harbor. First up, the USS Torsk. Its most interesting fact is that it was the submarine that sunk the last Japanese warship in World War II. It also has made the most dives of any American submarine at over 11,000.



Jay making his way down.

In front of the rear torpedoes.

Like a kid in a candy store, Jay enjoyed pushing all the buttons. They still worked. Not the torpedo launching ones...just the original light switches

Jay insisted on taking a picture of me since I complain I am in no pictures. You be the judge if this counts.

The USS Torsk from our next stop, the USS Constellation.

The USS Constellation was the last all-sail powered warship commissioned to be built by the US government during the Civil War. It's main job was to patrol for slave ships and to defeat the confederacy's attempts to interfere with the Union's trade from the Mediterranean sea.

Can you imagine sleeping this close to other people in hammocks?

They had a "hands-on" demonstration that moved the sail direction. I can't remember what it was called, but this guy took his job seriously and treated all of his participants like sailors. And he yelled at me for standing in an unsafe position to take this picture. Click on it. You can see his angry face.

So, I moved. This is what Jay's hard work produced....

See how the beam is turned?

This was the bottom of the four "floors" on the ship. It's where they stored the food and drinking water.


The USS Constellation

Next, we went on a 45 minute harbor cruise with historical narrative. We had to wait for just a little while and my hero went and rounded us up some refreshing beverages.


Diet Cokes in hand!


Pictures from the inside of the ship (Jay wanted to get out of the sun). The lighthouse where immigrants were sent if they were sick and needed to be quarantined. Did you know Baltimore harbor is second only to Ellis Island in number of immigrants landed?

Ft. McHenry where the Star Spangled banner was penned by Francis Scott Key during the War of 1812.

Another courtesy shot.

We had dinner at Uno Chicago Pizzeria and Grill because Jay wanted to Carbo load and they offered gluten-free options. This was our view from our table.

I made our waiter take a picture of us, much to the chagrin of Jay. He didn't take a clear shot, much to the chagrin of me.

We listened to an a Capella ground after dinner that wasn't very good.

And the whole trip was made possible thanks to loving grandparents.

It was so nice travelling without the boys. They are great travelers, but when I watched the other parents running around getting their children breakfast and pushing strollers and convincing toddlers to stay out of the taped off race area, I really appreciated the fact that my boys were home, safe and sound and having a great time with Grandma and Grandpa. Plus, I got two books read (Wuthering Heights and Romeo and Juliet) which definitely couldn't have happened with Henry around.

We had a lovely time and I happily recommend Baltimore as a great three/one day destination.

Pixie Tough

Unless you're a sports news reader, or married to someone who is, you probably didn't know that a few weeks ago, a wide receiver for the Cleveland Browns named Braylon Edwards, punched one of LeBron James's friends outside of a Cleveland nightclub. The very next day, Edwards was traded to the New York Jets and lots of people speculate that LeBron, who openly criticized Edwards for beating up on his lightweight friend, had something to do with it. I don't see how he could, but, if he did, he is one mighty powerful basketball player.

O.K. That was the boring, informational part. Here's the funny stuff. I had read the article (I skim a lot of news) but Jay listens to Dan Patrick's podcast and while we were driving to Albuquerque airport last Thursday, we were talking about this Edwards/LeBron/LeBron's friend-who-got-punched story. I guess LeBron called Edwards "childish" because his friend is described as small - only 135lbs. Critics of Edwards have compared Edwards hitting this "small" man to hitting a girl. Dan Patrick called the man a pixie.

Well....statistically....Jay is that guy.

We laughed and we laughed at the sports world emasculating all men everywhere that weigh in at a buck thirty five. I scolded him for quitting his blog, because, even though I'm doing a very, very poor job of writing it, I think it's the perfect story. I guarantee it would read a lot more funny if my sweet pixie was writing it.

So, LeBron, Edwards and Dan Patrick, he may not be NFL or NBA big, but my guy can outrun your guy! And, there is nothing wimpy about doing this:

Playing around with making a "J" on his chest out of tape. It didn't last. But, there is definitely a pre-race ritual that must be done the night before, including wrinkling up his race number and pinning it all one beforehand.

I couldn't find any posterboard at the CVS pharmacy down the street from our hotel, so I bought a cardboard box and some wrapping paper and made a two-sided sign. This was one side that was easy for Jay to read from far away.

At the starting line on race day.

The other side of the sign.

The race begins.

These guys aren't pixies! These are the elite racers and the winner finished the marathon in 2 hours 14 minutes and 4 seconds.

Here comes Jay not that far behind. This is at mile 9.


After he went by me. The race included a half-marathon and a marathon relay, so they wore signs on their backs indicating what type of racer they were. Also, you can see how the weather was that day. It was mostly ideal, with cool temperatures, very overcast and occasional sprinkling. But...it was also very windy. Jay said it seemed any direction he was going there was a head wind.

Here comes Jay at mile 26! They finished running down the outside of where the Baltimore Orioles play at Camden Yard.

What tough looks like.

Finished! He ran 26.2 miles in 3 hours eight minutes and 36 seconds. He finished in 68th place over all, including all the elite racers, and 5th in his age group of 35-39 y/o men. Crazy man is going to do it all over again at Boston next April because he qualified!

Hey may not be a large man, but he is the toughest guy I know. Way to go, Jay. You have officially impressed me:)

Three Reasons

Counting the number of reasons why I love my parents would be like counting the stars - futile. But, here are three:

They share their love of geography with their grandchildren.

{my dad can take your dad in an atlas throwdown. Henry is learning from the master}

They bring their own sewing machine with them to do all my mending.

{I figure I can learn...someday. But, when this lovely lady is so able and willing, I'd rather have a job well done}

They watch three boys, including one who still pees on the carpet, so I can go watch Jay run 26.2 miles in downtown Baltimore on Saturday.


Hey...he does the posing. I just post them.

Thanks Mom and Dad! LOVE YOU!

School Pictures 2009

About an hour after the boys were gone, I sort of panicked thinking that I had put Sam in the exact same shirt for pictures that I had the year before. Thanks to blog archiving (because, believe me, I'm much more organized on here than I am in, say, my closets) my worries were soon appeased (click here for proof). It was another brown shirt with silk screened print on it. Phew.

And Seth, well, we just stepped way out of the box this year. Brown last year - black this year. We are wild and crazy in our house!

Conservative garb aside, I think they are handsome as all get out. Especially considering the photographic source.

Perks of Speech

Henry has made great strides of late with speaking. Not only has his vocabulary improved, along with sentence structure, but....after almost two years of speech therapy, I can actually understand a lot of what he says now. It's incredible having a two-way conversation with this sweet boy. He's so bright. And funny. And loving. He always was, I just didn't have verbal proof.

Well, today, while I was in the bathroom putting my makeup on, my little shadow was just outside the door playing near my mirror. Every mom knows the cutest moments happen when our children don't know we're watching, and I caught one of those today.

I heard him talking, well..more than talking, so I stopped to listen. He was having a whole conversation! The best part is it was with his own reflection in the mirror. With great stealth, I fetched my camera and caught the cutie-pie introducing himself.

"Hi. I'm Henry. Do you want to play?"

Uh....yeah!!

*Sidenote - yes, we are potty training. Yes, we've been potty training for the entire year. Yes, we hope he has it figured out by the time he goes to kindergarten in two years. Those are my only expectations.

Book Review - Mee Thinks

I have seen Mary Ellen Edmunds name linked to things like Time Out for Women and Women's Conference but have never read or listened to her before reading this book, which is a compilation of some of her most popular talks. After reading this, I want to see/hear more!

Mary Ellen Edmunds, or MEE, as she calls herself, is delightful. Full of wisdom, humor, insight and inspiration, it is impossible not to enjoy her perspective. Go on, I dare you! I received this book as a gift and read a chapter here and there as I felt like it. It was very enjoyable and uplifting. A great gift for any one, but especially for those special women in your life.

Book Review - Classic #2 - Green Mansions

If you have never heard of the book Green Mansions and didn't know it was a classic, you're not alone. Neither did I before I saw it on my library's "We Recommend" table. It certainly looked old and, on a whim, I checked it out. After looking up the title on Amazon.com and Goodreads, I realized it was, indeed, a classic and thought I'd add a lesser known, or forgotten title to my list of twenty. You know, step outside the box. Maybe help shed some light on a great old book.

Well, classics are classics for a reason and there is a reason this book has been forgotten. It's not very good. In fact, I may as well say it. It's bad.

Abel, a member of the aristocratic class of Venezuela, flees to the uncivilized jungles after a failed coup. Because he is able to pick up languages easily, he learns to communicate and eventually live among several different indigenous tribes. Just like any great guest, he spends his time wowing them with his guitar, waits for his meals while he hangs out in his hammock and laughs at their silly traditions. Eventually, driven by boredom, he explores a cursed part of the forest where he eventually meets an unusual girl unlike any one he's ever seen. She seems able to talk to birds and snakes, climbs trees and appears to live all alone in her "green mansion." Most interesting to Abel is the paleness of her white skin, noticeably different from the savages (his words) that inhabit this area. Rima, as she is called by a spanish speaking man who raised her, is the last surviving member of an extinct tribe. How she came to live with him is more complicated than I care to explain, as William Henry Hudson unravels her origins in an excruciatingly slow discovery, but suffice it to say that when Rima and Abel fall in love, it spells doom for both of them.

While there is the romance, which is actually unsatisfying because it follows that melodramatic pattern of 19th century romanticism where there seems to be no passion accompanied with the unexplained devotion, this book is really more about the forest than the girl. Hudson uses most of his words to describe every tree, every vine, and every undergrowth. It becomes ridiculous to think that he is really including these mind-numbing descriptive details in his explanation of his tragic past to his friend.

In addition to the superfluous language, the book is unforgivably racist and outdated. I kept wondering why I was being less forgiving than I was with, say, A Town Like Alice, which also exposes its age with its no longer acceptable prejudices. All I can say is that Alice at least redeems itself with its other, better qualities. Green Mansions doesn't. Its attitude towards the aboriginals of Venezuela, as described by a superior white man, is blatantly offensive. Uncomfortably so.

Skip it. There's really no reason to read this book.

My Bucket Overfloweth

I should have written this last week, when I felt the words in my fingers. The feelings behind the post hasn't changed, but, let's just say if I had written last week, when I should have, there would have been a lot more exclamation points. Like this!

Instead, what you will read is a sincere, honest and heartfelt testimony that was re-gifted to me after Women's Conference last week and General Conference this week. Still worthwhile, right?

I'm not going to lie, I've been going through a mid-life transition of late and it hasn't been one I'm super excited about. I feel like whining almost all the time. It isn't pretty! (there's one! Oh..there's two...) If you're familiar with the phrase "the bucket and the dipper" it will make perfect sense when I say my bucket has been perilously close to empty. Habit, dedication and memories of former spiritual experiences kept me crawling forward, but my knees were getting weary (It's getting crowded with analogies. I'll just keep it to the bucket).

Already in a good mood from the preceding pot-luck and mingling with friends, I was all smiles as Women's Conference got underway. What the choir's music lacked in beauty, it made up for in feeling. They sang with zest! Then the talks started. Sister Beck's was administrative by necessity and there was no chance at my pride getting in the way like it did for her much discussed "Women Who Know" talk a few years ago. Sister Allred's talk was sweet but when Sister Thompson spoke, my whole being responded. Her talk was called, "Mind the Gap" and it described my situation exactly.

Her talk aside, what really happened is that I felt the spirit. And I mean, I felt it. Sitting there, in the darkened room, I started to cry because I knew I was where I was supposed to be listening to what I needed to hear. I felt like shouting, "Ladies, the church is true!" This church which teaches us Christ's restored gospel, is hard, inconvenient and often times comes attached to annoying people and things, but it's true! Sitting there, I was so grateful for the powerful way the Spirit was supplementing my testimony. Sister Thompson was followed by President Erying and at one point, while talking about Relief Society's legacy, he said, "They gave when they had nothing to give." It was what a woman with an empty bucket needed to hear. Reminders that others have done it and done it when it was a lot harder to do. Imagine more tears. But happy ones. Happy, happy ones.

That night, my spiritual bucket was refilled to brimming. It's made this mid-life busy-ness, that I was so resenting, feel different...better. It made my whole week better.

General Conference was equally great today. All the talks were packed full of encouragement and instruction, but there is no denying the power of Elder Holland's testimony and defense of the Book of Mormon. Once again, my body and spirit responded to truth and I knew that he spoke with authority and was testifying of things as they really are.

It's true! There is so much beauty on the earth, and so much good in so many people and I just want to hug them all and say, "I love you!" And I want to say, "Here is truth." It is here for the taking and learning. I can't deny it nor do I want to.

I know I whine on this forum plenty, and spend enough energy highlighting the ridiculous and less than great. But, I rarely shout from the rooftops. It's sad that I'm more comfortable with sarcasm and venting, but I didn't want any record of mine to be lopsided towards a side I don't want to be on. This is my side. This is the side I want to be on.

From my bucket to yours:)