"You call him Dr. Jones, doll."

This weekend was the long-awaited Indiana Jones marathon that I planned months ago. The Zimmers (who are in my singles ward bishopric and are about the coolest people to grace the earth) were kind enough to host a bunch of twenty-somethings while we watched all three of the original Indiana Jones movies Friday night, and then the next morning we went to see the new one. It was a fun weekend, but I tell ya what... It'll be awhile before I watch any of them again.

The Zimmers also presented me with this. Did I mention I love the Zimmers?


In other news, I got a job working at the Utah Food Bank in their development department. This means that I help the grantwriter get the information she needs to keep money coming into the do-gooders so they can continue to do good. So far I really like the people I work with and the feel of the workplace is high-energy. Also, almost everyone there was previously working there in a lesser position, so opportunity for advancement is good.

So, things are looking up! Thanks everyone for the encouragement in the meantime.

Hammock hmms.

Yesterday I spent a little bit of time in the hammock in our backyard. As I rocked back and forth and stared up into the leafy green tree, I sat and let my mind digest for awhile. The following are some of the thoughts that I had.

I wonder how old this tree is? I also wonder what its seeds will look like. I'm fascinated by the different reproduction strategies of plants, but especially trees. Pine cones that only open and spread seeds in a wildfire. Pokey balls that eventually rot and uncover a walnut-looking center. Helicopter things. Also, the tumbleweed. It just uproots itself and lets the wind roll it around making it possible to scatter seeds elsewhere. It's amazing. I should have been a plant scientist. What are those called?

I need to go get ready for a reception soon. It's way over on the east side. I wonder why I feel so uneasy on the east side. Why is it that when I get any further than 1300 E I feel the need to smooth my hair down and touch up my makeup? Like anywhere I go in public it's obvious from my on-clearance skirt and my old-navy shirt that I don't belong. I don't remember being socialized to feel this way. But I suppose I'd rather feel underdressed on the east side than in danger of losing my life on the west side, which is probably how they feel when they cross on over here. Why aren't I afraid for my life? Should I be? But then again, what kind of life is spent in fear?

This rocking is so soothing. It's funny how no matter how old we get, the same things that brought us comfort as infants bring us comfort now. Rocking, for instance. The fetal position, for another. I'm grateful to see other people bite their nails, or mispronounce words, or forget people's names, or not know what some new slang word means. It's weird, but I'm grateful every time I see someone who I revere as faultless falter, as long as it is not at anyone else's expense. It makes me feel better. And for whatever reason, it makes me love them more.

I wish they still made grape slurpees. I could really go for one right now.

Masters of the house

My parents are slaves to their two cats.
I am a slave to my parents.
My parents are in Hawaii on vacation.
So, by transitive property, I am now a slave to their two cats.

I will be living at my parents' house this week to maintain it and its contents while they're away. My parents have always been animal lovers and any pet we've owned has been spoiled rotten, but now that there are no children in the house I think it's gotten worse. These cats, Buddie and Marlie by name, have a pretty specific schedule to maintain, and who knows what kind of chaos will unleash if the schedule is interrupted.

Buddie is the sadistic one. He likes to wrap himself around your legs as you walk, trying to get you to pet him. If you take the bait and reach down, he'll chomp you playfully (but painfully) on the arm and run away, only seconds later to come back and start rubbing up against you again. He also loves to hide around the corner from Marlie as she's coming and then jump out, swat her on the tail, and then run away. You can even see the evil glint in his eye in the picture.

Consequently, Marlie has become a paranoid schizophrenic. She is rarely ever at ease, aways keeping an eye out for someone or something coming to get her, she'll jump at the smallest noise, and sometimes she'll chase and pounce on imaginary things. We call her the Sixth Sense kitty. That look of terror in her face is pretty much a constant.

My mom gently reminded me that Buddie would probably wake me up somewhere around 5:30am and yowl until he's let out, and that it would be a good idea to feed Marlie at the same time. Then sometime in the afternoon feed them a second time, making sure they're never fed the same flavor of cat food two meals in a row. Sometime that evening make sure to pet Buddie for awhile, and let Buddie out to play at night but make sure he's back before I go to bed. I "uh-huh"ed myself as quickly as possible through the instructions figuring I could fudge over the details throughout the week.

This morning I was rudely awakened rather early by Buddie yowling. I rolled over in bed to look at the clock.

5:30 exactly.

I won't lie... it gave me the heebie jeebies, like I was in a Stephen King novel or something. So, wanting to avoid Buddie putting a kitty-curse on me or somehow being licked to death (because that's what would happen in a Stephen King novel) I promptly got up and let him out, and on my way back to my bed I was stopped in the hallway by Marlie, meowing pathetically like she hadn't eaten in a week. That's when I realized that they weren't joking around. These cats mean business.

And the worst part is, I can't remember what flavor of cat food I fed them tonight. So if someone finds me dead tomorrow having been suffocated by turkey and giblets being crammed down my airway, you'll know that I have chosen poorly.

Reasons I can't complain

I had some people unduly alarmed after my last post. I'm fine, really. I still do not have a job, but hey! Look what I do have!

• I am surrounded by loved ones every which way I turn. It makes it pretty hard to crawl into a hole of self-pity, even when I make a conscious effort to try.
• I have a more correct idea of who I am, why I'm here and what I'm capable of than most people (good news indeed.)
• My basic needs are consistently met, as well as many of my wants.
• I am free. Well, I AM a slave to Costa Vida chicken salads, but other than that...
• I just happen to have rhythm AND music.
• I have relatively obedient, versatile hair. This is really dumb, but I was so grateful for this fact a couple days ago that I took the above picture in my gratitude.
• I have a wicked awesome blue guitar and am learning to play it more and more.
  

This list is by no means all-inclusive. It's just a few of the reasons I've been happy to be me lately.