Your Audience

Remember how I got married?

2011-10-30T15:20:00.003-06:00

Yeah, I barely do. We still don't have our pictures back. But since it was family who took them, we patiently wait instead of throw a fit. Though if I don't see them by our 6 month anniversary, the fit throwing may have to commence.

It was a beautiful day surrounded by friends, family, and pinwheels. It was full of smiles, gifts, and swords full of meat. But in the grand scheme of things, it was just a day. The days since have been way more fun.

Like this!:

Sidekick (as he will be referred to henceforth in the bloggy world) has done wonders for my psychological wellness. (Not that I was too unwell to begin with. Right? RIGHT? **forceful stare**) I have found that my extreme independence has been softened to be in the moderate-to-strong category... because at the end of the day, no matter how many world problems I've solved or lives I've saved or people I've lifted, it's awfully nice to have a toasty warm sidekick to snuggle up to at night.

I have also regained a healthy respect for the concept of wasting time. In the later years of my single life I found myself going from one thing to another and filling my day with as much as possible, because being idle for whatever reason didn't sit well with me. And while I still like to be productive, I've rediscovered how effective playing a video game can be at helping a busy girl unwind at the end of the day. I've had a few people mention that I've "mellowed out" a little... meaning that the wild look in my eye that comes with always having to feel productive is gone, replaced with a look of contentedness. Not complacency, but contentedness.

While the next steps toward building our lives together float around in our consciousnesses without having landed on a time line quite yet, in the meantime I'm very much enjoying the simple apartment we live in and the simple number of two.

One other note... my employment at the food bank has ended.

About 9 months ago I had been promoted to the role of Office Coordinator. While it taught me new things and gave me more money, it removed me from the hands-on experience of working with the public that I had grown to love so much. So a month or two ago I started passively looking for a new place to work that would allow me to work with the public again.

About a month ago found an opening with the American Cancer Society. I applied, they interviewed me, offered me the job, and I took it. I started this week. I'm looking forward to the new opportunities it will give me to learn and grow and work with people to help raise money for cancer research.

So. Though my life seems far less adventurous since having "settled down", I'm hoping I'll still find adventures to blog about, and hopefully more often than every three months.

Thanks for reading. It's nice to write again.

June 1st....err... 8th

2011-07-03T11:37:00.005-06:00

Friends, Romans, Countrymen... I hardly deserve the honor of your attention any longer due to the complete and utter lack of attention I've paid this blog (and by extension you, my faithful followers) in the last little while.

But I would be remiss if I were to go without mentioning this year's June 1st activity.

Now part of the challenge of June 1st is trying to do something of significance (ish) that I've never done before on that very day. Though in the past I've been tempted to fudge it and do it a day before or after to better accommodate my schedule (or someone else's), I've stuck to my guns and made it happen on June 1st.

This year I had to throw my guns out the window... but Groupon is to blame, not me.

On June 1st I opened my gmail to discover a Groupon deal for half-off at a sushi restaurant in Draper called Wasabi . This was fortuitous, because I hadn't decided what my June 1st activity was going to be yet and I had never yet eaten sushi. So I purchased the Groupon and texted my sidekick to let him know that dinner that night was on me. He was overjoyed, being quite the fan of sushi himself.

But then... THEN... I read the fine print on the Groupon that said I couldn't use it for 24 hours after I've purchased it. With this little stipulation, my June 1st dreams were gone.

So I said to myself, Now you've had a busy last couple of months. Planning a wedding and sharing a life is hard work and time consuming. Surely they will understand if you decide to use this coupon next week instead and still count it as your June 1st activity.

To which I countered, Hey, remember how there is no "they" and the only "they" who is keeping track at all is in fact YOU?

So a week later we went and had sushi, and the June 1st gods in my head have still been satiated.

Now the idea of sushi had never really sounded all that good to me to begin with, but I'd had so many people tell me how wrong I was and how delicious it could be that I was optimistic that I'd end up enjoying it.

Well, you should note that the above picture with the big smile on my face was taken before I ate my first bite, because I didn't like sushi at all. Not even the deep-fried, least fishy rolls that they had to offer. I'm not a fan of shrimp, crab, or lobster, and most rolls have some form or another of one of those meats inside. So while the taste of the deep fried tempura on the roll was yummy, it wasn't enough to overcome the crabby aftertaste.

Thankfully, this guy was around to make up for what I didn't eat... and happily so.

In fact, have I mentioned what a fan I am of that guy? Here's another fun picture if you'll indulge me...

The umbrellas in my mouth were once in our shaved ices. The red sticker on my cup was once on my shirt from having given blood. Who gives blood and then rewards themselves by driving all the way to Sugarhouse to get the best shaved ice in the valley? We do.

I'm not counting down the days till I get sealed to this sucker, but if I were there'd be twelve.

First comes love...

2011-04-28T22:53:00.003-06:00

... then comes marriage.

July 15th, friends. Mark your calendars. Hide your kids, hide your wife. It's happening.

Email me with a mailing address if you'd like an invitation sent your way, even if you won't be able to make it to the reception.

(Note the flip flops contrasted against the blanket in this picture. He is brave to marry such a complicated gal.)

Okay okay, I give.

2011-03-18T17:40:00.002-06:00

Sorry team. That was quite the little hiatus I took. I didn't mean to, but you see...

...Life got busy.

To cover your basic questions, his name is Brandon. I met him in my ward. We have the same calling, so we've gotten to know each other through ward missionary stuff, and in late January we started dating. He's from Montpelier Idaho. He works for a company called Industrial Container in their customer service department. He likes to fish, likes to hunt, likes soccer, likes to spend time with his family, and likes me. And I certainly like him. Things are going well.

That's all I've got for you, kids. Hope that will satisfy your curiosity at least for now.

2010 was fun.

2011-01-01T10:19:00.009-07:00

Sometimes the generally high quality of my life makes it such that my brain gets overloaded when trying to remember specific accomplishments or events. This post is an effort to remember what 2010 was about for me. (Inspired by my dear friend Lindsay's recent year-in-review post.)

This year I...

...Defeated a certain notorious villain and rescued a certain helpless damsel. Again.
...Recommitted to becoming healthier, bought a gym membership, and have certainly used it.
...Re-focused my journaling efforts by recording more thoughts and fewer events.
...Facilitated countless opportunities for people to serve.
...Was humbled. Big time.
...Ran a 10K with a chest cold in 40 degree weather. (I don't recommend it.)
...Played outside. A LOT.

Goal for 2011: Continue to seek opportunities for growth. Preferably outside.

On Giving.

2010-11-24T21:08:00.009-07:00

A young volunteer favors one of our senior food box clients with a ninja on their box. Luckyyyy...

I've drafted several versions of this post.

One was fairly philosophical about the different motivations for people to volunteer (love, fear, duty) and comparing and contrasting the effectiveness of each motivation as calculated by the work that is done and the influence on the individual. (Yep, I miss school.)

One was full of complaints about the ignorance of the masses and how stressful they make my job this time of year. (This may be a news flash, but volunteering during the holidays is NOT an original idea. Plan ahead, people. Plan ahead.)

Another was my typical list of what I'm grateful for. But, it doesn't change much from year to year, so you can just look up past postings and get about the same thing out of it.

This year, I'm going to tell you about a quick story that is an illustration of my message today: Service and giving does not require an appointment.

I was driving home this summer and found myself in a long line of cars waiting to turn right at an intersection. Up in the distance I saw one of those sign-shaker people from Little Caesars out on the curb doing his thing. It was murderously hot outside and the young man was looking exhausted and generally discontented with his task. I kinda chuckled to myself as I looked at him; he was wearing saggy jeans belted below his butt and a long NBA jersey on, and I thought about how he probably took the summer job on to fund his video-gaming addiction.

I didn't think much of it as I continued to inch forward in my line of cars. A minute or so later I looked over again at my sign-shaker friend, just in time to see a middle-aged woman approaching him with something in her hand. As I looked closer I realized that she had purchased a snow cone from a nearby snow shack in the parking lot and was offering it to him. There was no look of recognition in his eye which confirmed the fact that the woman was a complete stranger. He hesitated for a moment while she reassured him there was no catch, but then accepted it gratefully as he put his sign down to taste his new treat.

I smiled the rest of the day thinking about that lady, and how I wanted to be more like her.

Jesus Christ, while on the earth, was the supreme example of this. Though he did have certain things specifically on his agenda during the day, the majority of his service was done on the way to do other things. It reconfirms to me that I don't need to try and squeeze service opportunities into my busy schedule, because if I'm aware enough I can find them all around me.

I hope your Thanksgiving weekend was great. Thanks to each of you for thinking enough of my ramblings to peek in on them now and then.

You know what makes me happy?

2010-10-10T21:35:00.002-06:00

...Fall.

And heel-clicking pictures.

Hunting Season

2010-09-06T20:50:00.002-06:00

One Thursday morning a couple of months ago, a short, heavyset woman with gray hair and glasses walked (well, waddled) in through the volunteer entrance where I work.

I looked up from the email I was composing, took a quick glance at the clock (the volunteer department doesn't open until 10am and it was only 9:30) and said, "May I help you?"

"Can I use your bathroom?"

I smiled and pointed her down the hall in the right direction of the facilities. After about five minutes I heard her coming back down the hall and then pausing in the break room. Soon followed the sounds of a soda clunking out of the vending machine, and she emerged with a Coke in her hand and a smile on her face.

"Thank you," she said as she walked right back outside.

"Have a good day," I said, barely glancing up to give her a smile in return.

My coworker Kelly (who has a work-related blog here) entered the room just as the woman was leaving and waited to make sure she was gone before saying, "what was that about?"

I shrugged. "Guess she just needed to use the restroom." And that was that.

Until...

The following Thursday morning at around 9:30am the same woman came in and repeated her request to use the restroom. I kind of quirked an eyebrow as I said yes, and she went on her way. This time after she left (again with soda in hand) Kelly and I chatted briefly about the coincidence, and then got busy working and forgot about it.

Sure enough, the following Thursday she showed up around the same time. And the next week. And the next week. In fact, she has been coming every week for the last two months.

After about three weeks we began discussions about what exactly her story was. And about the fourth week, we decided to find out by sending Kelly to follow her and see where she goes.

I manned the volunteer desk while Kelly kept me posted by sending me text messages about what was going on. He eventually returned to report that she went across the street, cut across the parking lot of the building next door, stood and stared at a tree for a few moments, and then entered the next building over (an electrical supply company). After a few minutes in that building she left and dodged between two buildings where Kelly lost sight of her.

And so began our weekly game that we've come to call the Grandma Hunt.

The week after Kelly's initial venture he decided to try and follow her in his car, but he lost her as he got caught in some traffic. The next week I decided to try and follow her on foot, and lost her as I tried to go around a building to cut her off. Then the next week I followed her in MY car and parked outside the building she enters, but I never saw her leave. Since then we've recruited more employees to help us in our venture: one person stays outside to see which direction she comes from, another will alert us when she sees Grandma coming, and another person will hang out at the Maverick across the street to see if they have a better angle at watching her.

After each week more questions arise. Is she going on a long walk that requires a bathroom stop? Is she walking to work? From work? Does she work in the second building she enters? Why does she stare at the same tree each time she walks by? Is she vending-machine hopping? If so, does she prefer the chocolate bunnies from our machine (which is her regular purchase as of late) to whatever else she buys?

Of course, we could just ASK her these questions. But then, what would we do with our Thursday mornings?

By the way, rest assured that these Grandma Hunts are done off the clock. Also, we're aware of the illegal and shady nature of what we're doing, but we mean absolutely no harm to Grandma. We just want answers.

Well, that's a lie. We want adventure. And so the hunt continues...

Savannah

2010-08-08T18:30:00.005-06:00

Tonight I was at my bishop's house for dinner as a farewell gesture to me and my roommates (we're all leaving the ward shortly). He also had his family over, and I quickly became acquainted with his four year old granddaughter Savannah.

You see, I don't get a whole lot of exposure to kids. I didn't babysit a whole lot growing up, I don't have extended family around who have small children, and my friends who are married and have kids are mostly all dead to me at this point (meaning I don't have regular interactions with them anymore). So kids are a novelty to me, and when I'm around them I do my best to interact as much as possible and flex my figurative potential-future-child-rearing muscles.

As it turns out, four year olds aren't hard to get talking.

Savannah: Guess what I did?
Haley: What did you do Savannah?
S: I saw one buffalo. No wait, two buffalos! A momma and a baby.
H: Oh really? Where did you see two buffalos?
S: At Yest Wellowstone, I mean West Yellowstone. And I saw a bear!
H: I'll bet that was exciting. Was it a scary bear?
S: No, I didn't see him. My mom did. Do you have a sister?
H: Nope, just two brothers.
S: How tall are they?
H: Uhm... you know, that's a good question. I think they're both over...
S: Are they this tall? (holds out hands as tall as she can)
H: Yes, they're that tall.
S: Do you like Baby Zooey?
H: Uh... I don't know who that is.
S: She's a giraffe. Do you want to sleep over?

...And this was the basic gist of our conversation over dinner. Savannah's mom kept a careful eye on us while we were talking to make sure I didn't have any signs of irritation on my face, but I was enjoying myself thoroughly. (I did have to dare Savannah to eat a piece of her dinner faster than I did on a couple occasions, because her mom WAS concerned that Savannah wasn't eating her food. Because apparently SOME children don't look for every opportunity to eat something, which is completely contrary to my memory of childhood.)

As we were eating our dessert, the one topic that I DO try and avoid with children came up.

S: Where are your kids?
H: I don't have any kids yet.
S: Why?
H: Because I'm not married yet and I want to get married before I have kids.
S: Well, maybe when you turn 16 you can get married.
H: (smiling) Guess what? I'm already older than sixteen.
S: (eyes really wide) Woah. Then how come you're not married?

My smile faded a bit as I tried to think of an answer that would appease a four year old. At the same time I thought about how I should probably have an answer for this question all ready to go by now, seeing as how I've been single for a good long while now and there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. So I opted for, "Just haven't found the right guy to marry."

Savannah smiled, shrugged, and as she lifted a spoon full of trifle into her mouth she said, "Well, maybe you'll meet him tomorrow."

"Maybe," I said just to respond. Then I took a second to realize that, even as I spoke, in no way shape or form did I have any actual glimmer of hope that I'd meet my husband tomorrow. Then I tried to think of the last time I lived my life day to day with the hope that it was going to be the day I'd meet my future spouse... And I realized it had been quite a long time. I don't remember consciously giving up, but in some ways my daily life would suggest that I have. And in the same moment, I resolved to do something about it.

That whole thought process took only about two and a half seconds, so it didn't sound too unnatural when I said, "Maybe!" one more time with a little more optimism to my voice.

But Savannah was already on it. "You can marry Ewen."
H: Who's Ewen?
S: My friend. He lives across the street from Allie.
H: How old is Ewen?
S: Five. Have YOU ever seen a buffalo?

...Thank you, Savannah, for a fun evening. And for the attitude adjustment.

(Note: If you choose to leave a comment, please don't write anything along the lines of "Oh Haley, you're so wonderful, cheer up, don't give up, he'll come along eventually, blah blah blah..." I am not fishing for a pep talk. I'm just acknowledging that reminders of faith can come in the places and times you least expect them.)

What I am and what I'm not.

2010-07-20T21:59:00.010-06:00

I am enjoying my summer.
I am surrounded by fun people who enrich my days.
I am getting a good mix of adventure, outdoors, and exercise.
Therefore, I'm not ashamed to buy a daily shaved ice from the shack up the street.

Despite my best efforts, I'm not a food drive coordinator.
After a month of frustration after the interviews, I am over it now.
I am realizing that I wouldn't have been happy in that position.
Through the experience, I am reminded of this truth.

I'm not in a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat this summer.
I'm not sad about that fact one bit.
Because instead of rehearsing, I am free to play Sorry at twilight while eating snow cones and waiting for fireworks to begin.

I am shifty by nature.
So, I am moving back to Midvale.
But, I'm not starting completely from scratch this time.
I am excited to have a new experience in a familiar setting.
And, I am excited to have a Rumbi within close proximity once again.
But I'm not seeing a 24 Hour Fitness in close proximity, which could mean trouble.

I am happy. I hope you are too. If not, let me know and I'll treat you to a Rumbi rice bowl.

Don't make me bust a cap.

2010-06-10T11:02:00.003-06:00

Today we had a fairly large volunteer group from a well-known hotel chain that will remain nameless helping us out. Some stayed in the warehouse to work, and some went and did senior food box deliveries.

Three of the food box deliverers were girls in their late twenties with fairly high-maintenance appearances. They came in late on the tail end of the instructions, so we tried to re-explain the instructions to them but they weren't listening because they were too busy visiting with their coworkers.

They returned from their deliveries half an hour before anyone else did, and the following conversation ensued:

Me: Hey, you're back already! How'd it go?

Oblivious Girl: It was gree-eeat! But some of the seniors said they usually give them more food than that. Some of them were pretty grumpy about it.

Me: Oh. Well, you grabbed the bags from the fridge and freezer too, right?

O.G.: Yep!

Me: Well, they usually just get their box and then a fridge and...

O.G.: Oh, we were supposed to take a box?

Me: (hoping she's joking) ...Uhm, you didn't take any food boxes?

O.G.: Well no one told us to.

Me: (looking outside at the pallet full of food boxes right next to the bags they took) Well...

O.G.: And by the way, the seniors weren't that excited to visit with us or anything. You should probably not tell people to visit with the seniors because they were pretty ungrateful about what we were giving them.

Me: Well, that's because they were expecting... Nevermind. How many clients did you deliver to?

O.G.: Fifteen.

Me: (inwardly groaning that thankfully only came out as a sigh) Okay. Well, these seniors are also going to need their box, so if you want to load those up and head back out there...

O.G.: Today?

Me: Yeah, you guys still have an hour with us and they're all in the same complex. It won't take you that long.

O.G.: (glancing at her boss out of the corner of her eye and seeing that he had heard the whole thing) Well, yeah I guess.

Me: Good. (pointing) The boxes are waiting out there, you can just load them up at that dock.

The girls turn around and head toward the door. Just as they leave I hear one girl say to the other, "I thought we were DONE with the west side."

In one quick motion I impulsively grabbed the staple gun that was in front of me on my desk, pointed it at the door that was just about to close behind them, and fired three staples across the room in their direction. Nothing hit them, and it wasn't meant to. (Mostly). But I turned around to see two of my coworkers staring at me.

I sat the staple gun down. "They insulted the west side," I explained.

"Oh." Then they went back to work.

That's all the explanation they needed, because they know me pretty well by now.

A long one... go grab a snack.

2010-06-03T21:36:00.006-06:00

I'm sure motherhood and wifedom has joys that I won't comprehend until they happen to me.

I'm positive that those roles at moments will fill my eternal soul with absolute joy in its purest form.

I'm confident that it is through the building of families that one can fulfill their purpose on earth unlike any other accomplishment can.

...And I'm not being facetious.

But it is definitely hard for my mortal mind to understand how there is even MORE room in my heart for those future joys, when it feels like every single corner of it flows over with happiness when I get to do things like this:

I am in absolute love with the desert; particularly the red rocks of Southern Utah. So imagine how happy I was to go with some people to hike around Zion National Park over the weekend.

Also...

Seven of the eight girls I went with were unknown to me prior to the trip. Hanging out with a whole lot of girls hasn't usually been my idea of a good time, especially if I don't know their personalities and how much crazy they might have in them. Believe me, there's lots of crazy to be had.

But, the longer I am in the land of the singles and the more I find the gender odds not in my favor, I've been forced to spend more time with more of my kind.

And more often than not, I'm not sorry.

There are some remarkable young(ish) women out there, and spending time learning from them definitely enriches my sojourn in singleness. At least in my wanderings I'm in excellent company.

Speaking of wanderings, guess what time of year it is?

That's right! June 1st happened this week!

Long-time followers will remember that every June 1st for the last several years I have set out to do something I've never done before. These activities cover quite the spectrum, and you can read about past ones in this post.

This year it fell on a Tuesday, and so I convinced my good friend Jenny to take the extra day off with me and head down to Manti.

We first attended a temple session, since I've been to Manti several times without attending the temple. Then, we attempted to go geocaching.

Since I had never before geocached (is that a verb?), I started out simple with a well-established geocaching adventure at Palisade State Park just south of Manti. I did underestimate how long it would take us to figure out the GPS gadget, so when we finally did we didn't have too long to explore. We did find two of the caches though before we called it quits.

And lastly, a couple of plot-altering events are on the horizon, including a possible job change at work and a possible summer theater opportunity. Stay tuned!

Okay, very lastly I have a quick story. We have a group of special needs kids that come in to volunteer once a week or so. One of them came in wearing a pair of women's sunglasses that were huge and bejeweled with diamonds. He pointed to them, said "Hey, I'm like Elvis!", and proceeded to do Elvis legs and sing something along the lines of "Hunka hunka burning love."

It's among the reasons that part of me hopes I don't get the new position at work.

Waiting to Exhale

2010-05-16T21:33:00.002-06:00

What have I been up to, you wonder?

I've been responsible for the coordination and planning of two of the major annual events for work, and they just happened to fall on the previous two weekends, one right after the other. Being prone to anxiety about insignificant things let alone significant ones and it becoming increasingly difficult for me to focus on one thing at a time let alone several, you can imagine it's been a trying month for me.

I'll spare you the details, mostly because I'm tired of hearing myself whine about them. But it's over now, and today at work as I erased all the notes from the last several months off my whiteboard, I smiled and heaved a big sigh of relief.

Because when I'm growing I don't often feel it, but today I felt it, and it made it worth the trouble.

Here are a few of my favorite moments from the last couple of weeks:

- Listening to a group of ten Tongan men talk amongst themselves and then suddenly erupt in laughter to the point of tears... making me wish I could understand Tongan.

- Watching strong grown men take a physical task I was struggling with away from me, only to watch them struggle to do it themselves. It was gratifying.

- Hearing one of my favorite volunteers apologize over and over for not recruiting more people, even when his people were the only ones who showed to begin with. If we weren't both sweaty and exhausted, I would have hugged him.

- Reaching a point of exhaustion where my shoulder muscles just completely stopped working and I had to improvise using other muscles to lift donations into the truck. I've never been that exhausted. It felt good.

- Finding out that my failings with the first event were being discussed behind my back, and finding out that several of my coworkers defended my efforts without hesitation during the course of the conversation.

- Watching my coworker as he stood at one of the inflatable slides at the kids carnival. I gave him the task of making sure the kids took turns and went down the slide only a couple at a time, and instead he just stood there grinning in amusement as fifteen of them would barrel down the slide together. His wife must be the disciplinarian in their home.

- Even as the cold rain had been pouring for about fifteen minutes, looking across the way to see my volunteers in their red shirts still out running the carnival games without any kind of shelter. As long as kids were still brave enough to face the rain, they were determined to keep their end of the carnival going.

- Overhearing a kid whose mouth was lined in blue sugar from the cotton candy he had just inhaled as he exclaimed to his friend, "This is the greatest day of my life!"

...I tragically didn't get any pictures of either event. But if I can steal some from a coworker, I'll try and post visual aids later.

Wait for it...

2010-05-12T22:02:00.003-06:00

Have I lost you all?

Please, please wait for me.

After Friday is over I'll have the presence of mind to organize my thoughts once again and manipulate them in an entertaining manner for your enjoyment.

"Friday? Whatever could be so significant about Friday?"

"What HAS Haley been doing that's so much more important than blogging?"

"Every moment of her life is filled with such drama and mystery. How have I lived this long without reading about it?"

If these are some of the questions burning your brain right now, never fear... I'll return shortly.

With pictures.

Maybe.

Happy Easter

2010-04-04T22:18:00.003-06:00

Been very content with life as of late and feeling incredibly fortunate to have what I have and know what I do.

As always, working to keep my stupid pride in check.

This oughta help:

Messenger bike.

2010-03-22T21:08:00.004-06:00

I spent the weekend in Pagosa Springs, Colorado with some friends just for a relaxing getaway. It was lovely.

We stayed in a bed and breakfast, which I had never done before, but very much enjoyed. I had the thought that it would be fun to own one myself someday... that is, if it weren't so impractical.

We stopped at several gift shops. At one in particular, the woman who sold her hand-made crafts was having a huge sale to celebrate staying in business for 8 years. I admired her commitment to her passion, especially because the things she sold were just trinkets that didn't serve any real purpose.

We spent a couple hours soaking in the hot springs. In one such pool, we talked to a man who was telling us all about his trip to New Zealand and how he and his family had taken a self-guided tour of a bunch of the places that the Lord of the Rings trilogy was filmed. As he described in detail how much fun it was, I thought about how expensive it must have been, and right then and there resigned myself to the fact that I'd most likely never get to see it for myself.

And then...

As we stopped off the side of the road to take some scenic pictures the next day, another car had parked 50 feet or so away from us. Two men got out of the car and began unloading their road biking gear. As we looked around at the scenery, I turned around in time to see the two men on their bikes begin climbing the fairly steep road up the canyon. I smiled and called out, "you're braver souls than I!"

One biker man smiled and called back out, still pedaling, "You could do it too!"

I snorted and countered, "Yeah right! In my dreams."

Then the biker, almost out of earshot, called out without looking back, "So dream!"

... He couldn't have said anything more appropriate if it had been scripted.

I spent the rest of the trip thinking about how any virtue taken to an extreme can become a vice... including practicality.

"Butter!"

2010-03-06T21:01:00.003-07:00

This week a woman may or may not have lost her job due (at least in part) to my complaints about her lack of attention to detail in her responsibilities... which has a direct relation to how successful I am in MY job.

And last night I had a dream that this woman was stalking me and leaving threatening messages on my car hidden inside canned foods, which is evidence of how uneasily this rests on my mind (not too mention evidence that I spend too much time around canned foods).

I have many flaws, but one that has been consistent across my 28 years of life is that I am, at core, a tattle tale. I do my darndest to follow rules and work hard and be good, and sometimes it's not convenient, and sometimes I don't want to, but I do it anyway operating under the assumption that everyone else will behave the same way. (Like traffic laws. Except the speed limit part.)

So when someone blatantly DOESN'T behave the same way, and it has a negative effect on myself or a loved one, and I get a glimpse of a little gleam in their eye that comes from knowing that they're getting away with something, well...

...I, for some reason, feel it my responsibility to be the one to dish them a negative consequence. Because if there are never obvious negative consequences for deviant behaviors, why would an individual be inclined to cease the behavior? Am I right?

No, I'm not right. Jesus says so. But this is the part where I admit it's a fault.

I have vivid memories from elementary school where I would be standing in line for lunch, and someone would butt in front of me in line to stand with a friend, and I would without thinking twice point at them very obviously and say rather loudly, "Hey, he just butt in line! This kid here! He wasn't in line, and then he just butt in!" until the person, embarrassed by the attention, would retreat to the end.

Yeah. I was that girl.

I've gotten better at resisting this oh-so-popular impulse of mine. And in the case of this woman at work, I wasn't the only one who had complaints against her, and her lack of follow-through was negatively affecting much more than just me... but I still feel bad about her situation.

And I keep an eye out for mysterious canned goods near my car.

When I grow up...

2010-02-18T21:56:00.002-07:00

A woman I work with came to me a couple weeks ago and presented to me an exciting opportunity to present our volunteer opportunities to a junior high group. I agreed to do it.

And then, I found out (after she was out of town) that I was in fact taking her place at her daughter's school for HER daughter's Career Day. Sneaky devil.

I got to the school late this morning (turns out that there's an important difference between Salt Lake and Bountiful), and as I enter the gymnasium where I'm presenting, I witness the following:

There was a man in an expensive looking suit who had a microphone in his hand that was working juuust fine, but he had it nowhere near his mouth, and he was yelling out to the crowd of kids on the bleachers instead.

Man: ...finances. Mr. Taylor is an associate of mine, and he's poured cement landings bigger than this gymnasium. (Pointing to a student with his hand raised) Yes, you have a question?

Kid: How much money do you make?

Man: ...Well, that's not really what's important. I own my own company because I know how to tell people what to do, and I have money because I know how to not spend it on iPods and cell phones and stuff. I hope you just listened there, I just taught you an important principle. Think about it. (Point) You had a question?

Kid 2: Do you live in a mansion?

Man: (Nervous laugh)... Well, everything is relative. And every dime I've made I've spent wisely, which is why I was able to pay off my mortgage when I was 39. But that's not important, the important thing is what I just told you there. I hope you were paying attention...

Kid 3: (Yells out) What kind of car do you drive?

Man: ...Look. If I happen to have my house paid off and drive a two hundred thousand dollar car and have a whole lot of money to play with, it's only because I'm really good at what I do. If you're good at things, you can have the things I do in my life. I hope you listened there. Be proactive, and you can be like me. Anyone else?

(No hands.)

As I stood there and listened I was relieved to see the teachers around me had amused smiles on their faces as well.

Of course, then it was my turn to present:

Me: (After making sure Mr. Business was no longer in the room) Well, let's get some things out of the way. I don't live in a mansion, I don't make very much money, and I am still making payments on my car. But, I've always wanted to lead a crowd of people in doing the wave. Will you guys help me out here?

(Unanimous cheering.)

Of course the kids were putty in my hands after that, and I had several teachers thank me as I was leaving for keeping things fun. And, I drove home in my Honda Civic feeling like a million bucks... or at least like two hundred thousand dollars.

Silver Lining

2010-02-01T22:47:00.004-07:00

It's rough being single.

...really, really rough.

The Snarking

2010-01-05T21:32:00.003-07:00

Do you ever run into people who you'd consider kindred spirits?

They don't have to be anyone you spend a great deal of time with; just someone you encounter in some way or another that you feel an unspoken connection to based on compatibility of personality. (No, this has nothing to do with dating or romance, though if your love interest happens to be a kindred spirit, well... double bonus for you.)

For example...

A couple months ago I was at a friend's wedding reception sitting at a table with a couple of friends. It was near enough to Christmas time that one of the decorations in the center of the table was a small sleigh bell. While I was talking I absent-mindedly picked up the bell, and my friend nearby said, "Hey, shake it and give an angel its wings."

So I shook the bell, and all that came out of the bell was a muted "thunk". This happened just as one of the helpers with the refreshments leaned over to take our empty plates, and without missing a beat he said, "And every time a bell makes that noise an angel's wings fall off."

I burst into laughter, made eye contact with the kid (who looked about 17 years old), he smiled back, and took our plates away. But just in that brief moment of eye contact, I knew he was one of those. A person who I would instantly fall well with had our circumstances permitted us to be actual friends.

It kind of makes me think of that kid in the movie The Shining when he's talking to the old black guy who works at the hotel. The guy can sense that the kid has telepathic powers too, and talks to him using his mind. They have a brief conversation about the power that they both have (which he refers to as "shining"), Old Guy validates Kid's powers as something real, and then the characters go on their ways in the story. I think. I've only seen the edited TV version of it and I don't even know if it was in it's entirety so who knows what plot chunks are missing.

That description was so awesome that you don't even have to see the movie now.

Anyway. I dedicate this post to my smart-alecy kindred spirits out there. Old, young, male, female... mock on.

Hide it under a bush? NO!

2009-12-21T17:49:00.002-07:00

So I'm driving eastbound on 3300 S headed towards my house (a phrase that I never thought would escape my lips) and I'm keeping a lookout for a cemetary on the right hand side of the street. Since I'm still not very used to driving in my new area, I use the cemetary on the right as a landmark to tell me when the street I need to turn down is coming up. It was dark and so I wondered if I'd be able to see it.

And then I saw it.

In the distance there were thousands of dim lights glowing across the huge expanse of the lawn. As I drove closer I realized that the lights were luminaries; one for each grave and then others to line the paths around the cemetary.

I had been in the left lane anticipating the turn into my neighborhood, but instead I made a quick (and somewhat dangerous... sorry blue car) lane change to made an immediate right into the cemetary grounds.

I then spent the next twenty minutes following a parade of cars who had almost all (and I curse the ones that didn't) turned their headlights off and were driving around to see the lights. I turned my radio off (I don't know why, but it seemed appropriate) and just looked around.

Several thoughts went through my head as I drove around. First of all, I don't think I'll ever really comprehend how MANY people there are in this world. Just in that teeny tiny bit of earth, there were thousands and thousands and THOUSANDS of lights each commemorating someone's life. Just in one cemetary, in one city, in one state, in one nation. I'm a visual learner, so it struck me to see so many lights.

And then naturally, being in the volunteer business, I thought, How in the world did they get all of these lit?! It must have taken them HOURS to make this happen! Because every single one was an actual burning candle. To place AND light each of those must have been a huge undertaking... one that I want to volunteer to help do next year.

The last thought I had was about how much influence one person's life can have. To their neighbors, to their family and friends, to strangers, to the world. I was touched that every single grave had a light. Not one of them was too out of the way or too small or too inconveniently placed to NOT have a luminary near it. Each life was worth remembering. It reminded me that each life IS worth remembering... living or dead, complicated or simple, good or bad.

And then as I drove out of the cemetary and turned my radio on I thought, Man... for someone not known for sentimentality, I can sure get sappy sometimes.

Happy 100th Post.

2009-12-13T13:14:00.004-07:00

...and, in celebration, I have a gift for you.

At my place of employment there's a program where we distribute a box of food once a month to over two thousand low-income seniors around the Salt Lake valley. These boxes are plain brown and fairly boring, which is why we allow volunteers to take these boxes home, decorate them, and return them to us so we can eventually fill them with food. The common themes of decorations on the box usually follow the season of the year or consist of generally cheerful things: smiles, rainbows, butterflies, sunshine.

But every now and then, we get a box that breaks the mold:

Is this not the coolest thing you've ever seen?! I was having a pretty rough morning at work when I found this little number, and boy howdy did it turn my day around.

Here's some other pictures of things I kept meaning to post, but my internet connection made rather impossible to do so:

I went to Zion and Bryce National Parks over the Labor Day weekend. I was once again convinced that we live in the most beautiful state in the nation.

I went with my pal Robin to the fair shortly thereafter. We successfully found the booth of all things deep-fried. I enjoyed a brownie, while Robin tried her hand at the oreos. Next year I'm going to try the cheesecake.

On Thanksgiving morning I ran the Utah Human Race 5K. It was all kinds of cold outside and I didn't beat my time, but I really enjoyed seeing the thousands of people there together for a good cause. I'll continue to run it each year as long as I'm able.

And, I've recently fallen in love with this little guy:

It's my new roommate's nephew. He comes to visit sometimes and when he does I'm glad.

Work is slowing down and stress is slowly ebbing from my mind, so I hope to post more often in the future. Thanks for hangin' in there with me.

Worn.

2009-11-08T11:42:00.005-07:00

Work is absolutely wearing me out. (It looks to get better from here though, so stay tuned for my usual chipper self to return any time now.) Having absolutely run out of groceries this week, I was forced to drag myself into a grocery store on the way home from work one day and pick up a few things.

As I was checking out and about to leave the store, I encountered a two-year old girl who was waiting for her father to finish checking out and had wandered out into my path. I stopped in my tracks and waited for her to decide which way she was going to go.

She didn't go anywhere. She looked up at me with an absolute look of exhaustion, gave a gentle sigh, and carefully laid herself on the ground, tucking one arm under her head and curling up a bit.

I looked down at her and smiled, and said to no one in particular, "I hear ya, sister." It took every ounce of strength I had not to join her there on the floor.

By the way, I'm moving to Sugarhouse in a couple of weeks. (Yes, I just moved. And I'm moving again. Wanna make something of it?) The good news is that my internet connection might improve, meaning you might start seeing actual pictures of the stuff I'm doing. Yay.

Scooters?

2009-10-18T21:20:00.002-06:00

At the bottom of this screen as I type, it gives me the option to "label" my post with a specific word for organizing purposes. It then says: "e.g. scooters, vacation, fall".

Vacation, sure. Fall? Eh, it's a stretch... I guess if you want your postings listed seasonally too. But scooters? Do people really write multiple postings about scooters? Besides you, Jason Bell.

That's not what this was originally intended to be about. Moving on.

My father is in the hotel business and has been so most of his adult life. And, as his offspring, I was instilled with a natural knack for customer service and courtesy. This skill has come in handy many more times in my life than I can count. It's been a part of ME during MY adult years as long as I can remember. It's something I didn't ever think would go away.

Tonight I'm here to tell you... it's going away.

My job has been extraordinarily busy recently due to some staff changes in my realm. In short, the amount of work that three people usually do full-time for forty hours a week has been shifted to only two people until the other position can be filled.

So as to try and make things as simple as possible, my coworker and I have decided that the majority of my days will be spent doing face-to-face customer service at the volunteer desk, and she will be the one to field all phone calls about volunteering (which have increased dramatically over recent weeks due to the holidays approaching.)

I originally thought that my coworker had gotten the rough end of the deal, because she gets to spend her days saying no to all the people who have waited until the last minute to schedule their groups because our schedule is already full. All I had to do was be nice to people as they came in and get them started on a project. Easy enough.

Yeah. Easy as herding cats. Which I'm used to doing, but for 4 hours a day, not 8. And I'm reaching a breaking point.

A story to illustrate...

Yesterday, a woman came in with her two daughters. She had scheduled in advance, which was great. They immediately started on what I asked them to do, which was wonderful. But after their two hours were up and they came to sign out, that's when our good relationship ended.

Lady: Hi! Would you mind filling this service card out for my daughter? (handing me a small card)
Me: Sure. (I take the card, fill out all the spaces that it asked me for information, and return it.) There you go. Thanks for your help today.
Lady: Great. Oh, would you mind putting the date somewhere?
Me: Uh, sure. There's no line for it, just...
Lady: Yeah. Somewhere. Wherever.
Me: (writing it in the margin and handing it back) There you go. Thanks for your...
Lady: Oh, and print your name somewhere too. Sometimes they can't read the signature.
Me: ...Okay. (I find another space in the margin and hand it back.) Thanks...
Lady: Can you maybe put a telephone number on there somewhere too? I'm sorry, they really need this information on there.
Me: (taking the card back yet again and starting to get impatient, because there were now three additional people peering over the volunteer desk waiting for my attention) You'd think that if it were so critical that they would have added lines and spaces for this information to begin with.
Lady: (her smile fades a bit) Yeah, I don't know why...
Me: Maybe that's some constructive criticism you can give them when you hand the card in.
Lady: (laughs politely like I was making a joke) Thank you. And, do you have a validation form she can have too?
Me: (staring at her, hoping she's now making a joke) Wait... is the card I filled out not proof enough that she was here?
Lady: Well, I think it's wise to have both just in case.
Me: (trying to stifle my withering sigh and quickly filling one out, leaving the name of the girl blank because I didn't know her name and assumed she could write it in) Okay. Here you go. (peering over her shoulder at the next person in line) How can I...
Lady: Wait. Her name isn't on here. Can you write her name?
Me: (finally losing it) Is there a reason that SHE can't write her name? (This was only half of what I wanted to say. The other half was "Because I'm pretty sure evolution has treated her just as well as it's treated me and she has opposable thumbs just like I do.")
Lady: Oh. Yes, I guess she can. Okay. Thanks.

Lucky for her they left before my filter completely failed me.

So, if sometime soon in your blog stalking you stumble upon the blog of a girl who is writing about how she now has the work of THREE people to do because a SECOND co-worker just got fired, you'll know that my days of courtesy had run their course. I'll be sure to blog about exactly how it went down if that does happen, though. I'm sure it'll be a good story.

a little plug... then a little rambling

2009-10-07T21:07:00.003-06:00

First, here's a link to my co-worker's recent bloggy-ode to the strange things we pull out of our food totes as they're being sorted. As you can see, it doesn't take much to amuse us:

Food Drive Item of the Day

Secondly, I've been thinking about pain thresholds. And how mine seems to be a bit higher than some other peoples. Or maybe I just don't get myself into as painful as predicaments as others.

Or maybe you're all just wimps.

And how there are people all around me who have a pretty rough go at life, where the trials they're still enduring are a result of decisions they made years and years ago when they were teenagers and didn't have their heads on straight.

I was a teenager once. I went a good while without my head on straight. But how did I avoid becoming addicted to something or making a really bad choice with long-lasting consequences? How did I just end up reading R.L. Stine books and writing depressing poetry instead?

Luck? Meant for something greater? Spending too much time around really down-and-out people? You decide.

I'm working like a mad woman these days, so I apologize for the lack of postings. I also apologize for the lack of pictures, but my internet connection leaves much to want these days.

But thanks for still checking in on me every now and then.

The bad color.

2009-09-22T18:24:00.003-06:00

There's a sign on the door that leads from the volunteer sort room of this place to the back offices.

It also happens to lead to the nearest restroom for volunteers.

There's a sign on the door. It says:
"Authorized personnel only. Volunteers must be accompanied by staff beyond this point."

The words are black on a bright red background.

As long as I have worked here, the sign has been on that door. And as long as I've worked here, we've NEVER accompanied ANYONE back there. I don't know who put it there, and I don't know what incident motivated its creation.

But I do know it works.

We tell volunteers as we're orienting them that they're welcome to go through that door and use the facilities as they need, but to be quiet because there's a call center just beyond the bathrooms. But even after the permission is clearly given, people are terrified to go through that door.

It fascinates me. At least once a day the following interaction will happen:

Volunteer: Excuse me, where did you say the restrooms are?

Me: (Pointing at the door) Through that door on the left hand side.

Volunteer: (Looks at red sign, then back at me) This door?

Me: (Pointing even more directly) Yep. Go on through. They're on the left.

Volunteer: (Looks down at the handle, then back up at the sign, then back at me. Then they'll notice the door right next to it that is clearly labeled "Supply closet". They approach THAT door.) This one here?

Me: (Standing up from my desk and pointing my finger within 3 inches of the correct door) No, THIS one.

Volunteer: Oh. Okay. (They hesitantly put their hand out to the door handle like they're afraid it's going to shock them. After they open the door a few inches a look of guilt crosses their face and they glance back at me. I give them a reassuring smile and nod encouragingly. They take a deep breath and push the door open.)

Okay, there might be slight exaggeration here. But not much. I can't tell you how many times I have to stop someone from peeing on our tapeguns in the supply closet. And, I can't tell you how many OTHER posted rules people blatantly ignore. Don't take food? Nah! They have plenty, they'll live without this item. Don't use the pallet jacks as skateboards? Meh! That's just for people without the balance to do it safely.

But none of those rules are posted in red.

Aaron

2009-09-09T20:46:00.007-06:00

Earlier this week a man came in with his son who appeared to be about 16 years old. The kid was wearing black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a winter hat pulled over his dark, emo-style haircut. He had some giant earphones around his neck, and he was looking at the ground.

The man said, "I'm Bob, and this is Aaron. We'd like to volunteer for awhile."

I talked to Bob about the volunteer options, and Aaron never once made eye contact with me. Everything about his body language looked defeated and told me he didn't want to be there. Bob told me that it was his hope that Aaron could come to volunteer a few times a week for a few hours each time. He gave no explanation as to why Aaron was not in school on a Tuesday at 11:30am, but I could deduce a few reasons.

I sent Bob and Aaron toward a project in the back, sighing inwardly about what a joy it was going to be to have Aaron come volunteer regularly. There's nothing worse than someone volunteering against their will.

Well, maybe a few things are worse. Like Polio.

By today I had completely forgotten about Aaron, until I was returning to the volunteer desk after running an errand and found him standing in front of the desk. At first he blended in with the other youth who were standing around waiting for their project to start, but I noticed his sullen posture and recognized him immediately. This time he was without his dad.

I told him to wait a moment while I got the other youth started on their project, and then came back to attend to him. He still wasn't making eye contact with me, but spoke: "I'm not with these guys, I'm just here by myself to volunteer."

"Yeah, I remember you. Aaron, right?"

At the mention of his name Aaron's eyes immediately met mine. He stood up a bit straighter as his arms unfolded and his countenance changed from being closed and distant to open and approachable. The corners of his mouth turned upward ever so slightly. That hint of a smile only lasted a brief moment, before his mouth opened.

And then I couldn't get it to shut.

"Yeah, I used to go by Z or Zed. And then there was this other time that I had another nickname, and I don't remember the name but it meant 'end of man'. My friends gave me that nickname because it's, like, totally contrary to my personality. That's why I had a nickname because I didn't like the name Aaron, because I thought it was too preppy. Don't you think Aaron is kind of a preppy name?"

"Uh..."

"I mean, sometimes I dress preppy but it's because I think the clothes are comfortable, not because I'm a preppy. I'm like the opposite of a preppy, because my room is dirty all the time. There was this one time I had found this white gold ring somewhere and took it back to my house, and then lost it somewhere under all my stuff in my room. For awhile I thought my friend took it when he was over playing the Wii with me, and I was like, 'Dude, he has no right to take my ring, I found it fair and square.' But then later I was cleaning my room and I found it."

He paused for a breath, long enough for me to say, "Really, that's good. Well..."

"It's my folks that are making me come here. Well, not my real folks, my foster ones. My foster dad is making me choose between either staying with them or going back with my real folks. But I'm like, how am I supposed to make that decision? Both sets of parents drive me crazy. It's not like I really like having parents at all, you know? They're all worried about me and stuff, but I'm like, whatever, I can just do things on my own..."

It was at this point that I think my mind (as a subconscious defense mechanism) stopped actually listening and I started to search the perimeter of the room frantically looking for the project manager to come back, all while giving the occasional head nod and "uh huh" to try and still validate Aaron's talking in the meantime. He either was severely starved for a listening ear, or VERY bad at taking social cues, and I felt bad for him in either case. Thankfully Kelly (my trusty project manager and right-hand man in the volunteer room) came around the corner and headed to the volunteer desk. The closer he got to the desk the more he could hear what Aaron was talking about, and the more his eyes widened.

Just as Aaron was getting into some darker details of his biological family history I finally said, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but we have a project ready for you now. Just follow Kelly and he'll show you where to go. Talk to you later..."

Aaron didn't seem to be phased much by the abrupt end in our conversation, and happily went on his way to his project. Incidentally, he was taken to join a group that was comprised of youth from a residential treatment facility. Hopefully he found a more attentive ear than mine, maybe even one who could better commiserate with his woes.

The thing that I'll remember from the conversation (presentation?) is how validating it can be for someone to remember your name.

It's the thought that counts.

2009-08-27T11:41:00.004-06:00

We received this in the mail the other day:

What's a mandala, you ask?

"What's that you say? You'd like some food? Well, take a moment to look into this mandala... it will help you concentrate on something other than your hunger."

And forget budgeting money for more media campaigns. Just slap a picture of this thing right next to the picture of a hungry person, and the awareness will just start flowing. People will be skipping towards the street vendors and buying tacos and hot dogs and handing them to the homeless wandering the streets.

I believe in the power of the mandala. You should too.

Rough day.

2009-08-26T12:30:00.002-06:00

A man doing his court-ordered community service came in today pushing a shopping cart.

No, that's not typical.

There was a backpack and something electronic in it. He asked me if I could keep an eye on it. I told him he could park it next to the wall, but that I couldn't guarantee its safety. He said that was fine, and rounded the corner to the break room to eat his lunch before clocking in.

Not four minutes passed before he came back out to use the public phone at the volunteer desk. Here was the end of the conversation I heard:

"Hey... no... I was doing my hours... It wasn't me, I was here doing my hours... well what am I supposed to do?... No... Well, I didn't get a signature for some of the time so they won't... I didn't do anything... I don't know what you want me to do about it..."

While he was still on the phone, two men came around to the OTHER side of the desk, one wearing a polo indicating he was a parole officer. They began talking in hushed tones to each other and gesturing at the man on the phone.

"Is that him?"
"I think that's him."
"I barely recognize him with the hat he's wearing."
"Yeah, that's him."

Then the two parole officer men smile at me, and ask (still in hushed tones) if they can see the timesheet for the hours that the shopping cart guy on the phone has completed.

In the meantime shopping cart guy is still on the phone, oblivious to the presence of the other two men. His voice is starting to get louder:

"No!... I didn't have anything to do... I was here!... Well I'm sure they keep records... No... Well, I don't know what you want me to do about it! I'm..."

The parole officer guys finish writing down the information they need, thank me, and quickly sneak away. Moments later guy on phone slams it back on the receiver and says to me, "I've gotta go."

"Okay. Uhm, don't forget your cart."

"Oh. Right. Thanks." And away he rolled.

Some things you have to read first-hand.

2009-08-18T18:52:00.002-06:00

I have nothing to say today that could top this.

The funniest part about this is that for years she's been trying to convince me that since she lived on 700 west that it made her a west sider. I've been telling her that she had to live at least west of Redwood Road to be a true west sider.

So she recently moved to almost 5600 W in her sister's house, and within a month of living there, this is what happens.

So read it. If you're not her friend already, it'll make you wish you were.

Ah, youth.

2009-08-13T23:53:00.002-06:00

Conversation overheard in a dressing room at Ross... two girls, both sounding about eleven or twelve years old:

Girl A: So I don't know what to do. She's, like, my best friend.

Girl B: She's acting dumb. So you just shouldn't hang out with her anymore.

A: I can't just not hang out with her. We've been best friends for, like, ever. I've known her for like two years.

B: But she's just, whatever. Hey, does this dress, like, make my legs look chickeny?

A: No, you just have skinny legs. They're not chickeny.

B: Well chickens have skinny legs, stupid. (They both laugh hysterically at this point.)

B: Hey, have you ever heard of a movie called "the Newsies"?

A: No.

B: Well I've never seen it, but it's supposed to be amazing. But it's not new or anything. It's like a really old movie.

(At this point I'm pretty sure I snorted out loud, but thankfully they didn't hear me.)

A: Oh. The Newsies? Like, newspapers?

B: I don't know what it's about. But someone told me that it's like a really good movie.

A: Do you think it's in the redbox somewhere?

B: No, they don't have old movies in the redbox, stupid. Just new ones that have come out, like, recently.

A: Nuh uh, I went to one just a few days ago and they had old movies in there!

B: Whatever.

At this point in the conversation I was finished trying on my shirt, and I left with a half smile on my face. I was torn between my amusement at the conversation and my concern for Girl A's self esteem if she continued to hang out with Girl B. Whoever the best friend was, surely she couldn't have treated her any worse than that.

I probably saw something shiny.

2009-08-10T21:40:00.002-06:00

Lately I've decided that I arrived on earth about 100 years later than I should have.

On Sunday I got to my parents house to find my mom was watching a documentary on the history of hillbillies. The program talked about how they were kind of the cast-outs from Scotland or something, then eventually moved to Ireland where they weren't treated well, and they made their way to America where they settled in the Appalachians and worked in the mines and stuff in the 1800's. They were hard workers, had no care for social propriety, and lived and spoke as they pleased.

All of a sudden in the middle of a segment about how hillbillies were the first ones to race cars around a track, my mother turns to me and says, "See what a proud heritage you have?"

"Huh?"

"Those are your people. That's where the Greers are originally from... the Kentucky and Tennessee area. These are the people that you come from."

At first I rolled my eyes in the certainty that the hundreds of years that passed between their lives and mine had filtered any amount of hillbilly-ness out of who I am. Besides, I despise anything to do with NASCAR and... um... moonshine.

But then I thought more. I thought about my at-times-tactless ways ("honesty", I call it). And my aversion to formality ("down-to-earth", that's me). And my tendency to want to do things my own way ("independence" is all that really is).

And my ever-so-slight overbite. (...)

And then I had to accept it. Whether or not I cared to admit it, there's hillbilly blood coursing through these veins.

But then I thought about the things I've come to value. Hard work, determination, sacrifice, independence, looking out for other people... those are hillbilly traits as well to some degree. And they all seem to be the things that most of the world doesn't give a flying flip about these days.

So that's when I came to this conclusion: I was meant to be born in 1881, not 1981.

What probably happened is while I was waiting in line for my turn to be born to some coal-mining Greer family in Kentucky, I got distracted, wandered off to talk to someone, and lost my place in line to be a Greer (which, I'm certain, is quite a lengthy one).

Which is a shame, because I would have been quite the catch to a coal-miner. What's that honey? Gonna be gone for 7 months up in the hills? Oh, and you want our log cabin to be finished before you get back? Warm meal waiting for you upon return? No resources but the land around us, an axe, and a shotgun?

...Bring it on.

A public service announcement.

2009-08-04T19:30:00.002-06:00

Dear reader,

If ever called to a service assignment, please do not bring more people than was requested of you.

YOUR specific assignment may only consist of 5 or so people, which seems a pitiful number especially if the task is something like, oh, I don't know, fighting hunger statewide. Surely five people will not be enough to tackle the task. You better bring your entire youth group of 20.

Little do you know that all of the other 7 groups assigned to bring only 5 people also had the same idea.

And now a staff of three people is responsible for maintaining 90 volunteers instead of the 35 that they were expecting. And your good intentions have turned into a nightmare for those facilitating your project.

It is safe to assume that those requesting your help requested it in specific numbers for a reason. They in the know, as a general rule, know more than you.

That is all. Carry on with your day.

- Your local friendly Volunteer Coordinator

(This may or may not have been based on a true story.)

A familiar face.

2009-08-03T15:00:00.004-06:00

The autistic peanut-butter kid came back today with his summer camp group. He bounded into the sort room and said "We're back!" triumphantly. He's about 7 years old.

About half way through his shift he came to the desk and giggled and said "I forgot where the bathrooms are," like it was the funniest joke he'd heard in years. I love him.

Another kid in his group had been reading a sign on our wall and came to me with this question:

"How does one dollar become nine dollars here?"

"Well, thanks to gracious volunteers like you and the generosity of people's food donations we are able to be extremely resourceful with the money that comes in. Does that make sense?"

"Uhm... not really."

"Nice people like you help us stretch our money."

"Oh. Okay."

I've been accused of being too wordy on many occasions. This confirmed it once again.

Bad week = good run.

2009-07-30T21:00:00.004-06:00

Some observations I had while going on a jog/walk around Midvale Middle School this evening:

If I hadn't eaten dinner only an hour before leaving, it would have been more of a jog and less of a walk.

I'm going to have to find a new place to run on Thursday nights. It's apparently little-league football season, which means my running route was lined with trucks and SUVs with NFL team logo stickers plastered on the rear windows. Most of them with team moms and dads waiting with the car running for their child to finish practice, and eying me suspiciously as I was jogging a little too close to their cars for their comfort. Next time maybe I'll just put a helmet and shoulder pads on, and they'll just think I'm one of their players being punished for mouthing off. Just as long as they don't throw a football at me, because my complete inability to catch one smoothly would tip them off.

Midvale, in addition to being known for having more Arctic Circles per square mile than any other place on earth, is apparently a natural breeding habitat for some kind of little quail. Mom and dad quails that run around with little quail babies, and teenage quails that pester each other are all over this place. I'm pretty sure I ran (jog/walked) past the quail-equivalent of a game of tag tonight.

As I watched little kids running around the neighborhood with no sign of any kind of adult around to watch them, I worried for their safety in our borderline-shady neighborhood. And then I wondered if people thought the same of me growing up as I ran around the streets of Rose Park by myself and darted across Redwood Road regularly to play on the Jordan River Parkway.

A young man was walking a bassett hound down the street. I didn't think that anyone could have less energy and spunk than their pet bassett hound, but this young man managed it. I wondered if he was yet another victim of World of Warcraft or other video games that cause people to go weeks without seeing the light of day.

Sometimes, if you decide to go just one more lap, you're rewarded with a brilliant sunset.

Turns out life isn't fair.

2009-07-28T22:11:00.004-06:00

Do you ever wish you could go through the people you encounter in your life and pick an all-star team of them to carry you through your day-to-day tasks?

I had to say goodbye to one of my all-stars today.

It's a man who will remain nameless just in case he'd want it that way. He was assigned to work at our warehouse by the Dept. of Workforce Services, from whom he received a certain amount of money for the 32 hours a week he volunteers with us. When he first came to us it was obvious that he was homeless and struggling. In fact, I had one person in the warehouse comment on his smell, and ask if I could get rid of him based on the fact that it was unpleasant for other volunteers to work around him. I refused, certain that once he got some resources under his belt that he would naturally take better care of himself. Until then, people could just deal.

And I was right. Over the next several weeks his appearance began to become less and less unkempt. As he got to know the functions of the warehouse and the different tasks that needed to be done he would do them without having to be asked, and he would do them carefully and quickly. His demeanor became less beaten-down and more jovial as he gained confidence in his abilities and his knowledge. Eventually we would send new volunteers to him to be trained, and he would do so with the patience of a saint. He was known for his kindness and his reliability, and he was always, always looking out for me. Making sure I had everything I needed to do my job well, asking if I needed his help with whatever I was doing. On the days when I was evidently frazzled, he'd ask how I was and if he could do anything to help out.

Even when I'd mess up on his time sheet which meant it would be a couple more days before he'd get his money, he would approach me gently with the problem and ask if I could resolve the issue when I had a moment. I wish I could explain to you how refreshing that was, because a lot of other people are a lot LESS nice when they don't get paid on time.

And as it turns out, cuts in government funding meant that his benefits program ended this month. As far as I know it's his only source of income. I don't know what he's going to do from here, because from what I understand there's no other program to catch these individuals. So today was his last day of work, and I had to leave him with my contact information, a promise of an outstanding reference or letter if he ever needed one, a silent prayer that he'd be okay, and a hug.

I'm upset that someone with such a wonderful work ethic and respect for others has to live in the Road Home, while there's a couple of people at my workplace who get regular paychecks and regularly make my job a lot harder than it needs to be due to their lack of follow through. People who would definitely NOT make the all-star team.

Maybe it would make me feel better to just cryptically tell the less-effective ones that tomorrow. "You SO wouldn't make the cut."

sigh

2009-07-25T10:43:00.001-06:00

A man came in today asking if he could volunteer in exchange for some food.

As is policy, I told him that no one takes food from our facility, and that he would have to seek out his nearest community pantry. I gave him a brochure with all of the pantries in the county.

"But none of them are open today."

I pointed to a couple of them that ARE open on Saturdays.

At which point he uttered some curses under his breath and called me ridiculous and left.

Then I glanced at the baggy of homemmade chocolate chip cookies I had brought for my coworkers and wondered if I should have offered him one.

**********

Do you have a hierarchy of interest when it comes to surfing the web?

On reeeeeally slow days I've discovered this is mine:

My email. Then Facebook. Then Google Reader. Then KSL for local news. Then CNN for national news.

And then... back to KSL to look at the kittens in the classifieds.

...Seriously.

Please be gentle with your mockery.

Catching up on weeks of moments.

2009-07-23T14:33:00.008-06:00

Interaction with Stella, 60-ish yrs old, from South Africa, regular volunteer at the food bank:

"Oh Haley, you cannot believe what happened yesterday."

"I can't? What happened, Stella?"

"Yesterday I made myself so that I should have looked like a spookie!"

"A...spookie?"

"Yes, I was with my daughter and I decided I would make an Asian food, and the spices, I don't know if the spices and my body, but I was itching all over the place!"

"Oh no, that's no good."

"Yes, and so I put the white soda and I put it all over my body. And I said, 'Lord in Heaven, if anyone comes in at this time they will be so afraid of me!"

"I can imagine!"

"Yes, I was like a ghost in the day! Heeheeehee..."

...and away she went to continue sorting food.

*******

A boy with Autism came to me with a jar of organic peanut butter in his hands.

His comment: "This looks over-rated to me."

He meant expired. But I wanted to hug him.

*******

Found in the food-drive tote: Chocolate Body Frosting.

Directions:
1. Light candles.
2. Open jar.
3. Offer paint brush.
4. Announce softly: "Dessert's on me."

Discovered by a group of scouts.

*******

Question about doing court-ordered hours at the food bank:

"Can two people's hours count toward the same offense? Can we, like, split it up?"

In case you wondered, the answer is no.

*******

Gregory is a regular volunteer at the food bank. He is near 60 years old, and is assigned to us through the Easter Seals program, which gives seniors a small amount of money for the service hours they provide. He is missing most of his teeth, and just recently found somewhere to live after having been homeless for several months. But I've always been impressed with how sharp he is.

Today I found out that he has a PhD in Philosophy and is a European-trained Master Chef. The only one in Utah, in fact. I didn't believe him at first, but the more detail he gave the more I knew he wasn't making it up. So I asked him how he came to his current status.

His answer: "My ex-wife raped me in the divorce. Never get married."

You're not lost.

2009-07-23T00:26:00.002-06:00

It's just me changin' things up a bit.

I've decided that most posts from here on out will be descriptions of little things throughout my regular day that make me giggle, make me sad, or make me think. Hopefully you'll find my life as amusing as I do. If not, we'll reevaluate.

And since I spent most of tonight playing with my new header, I'll actually start posting another day. Till then.

Reconstruction...

2009-07-18T19:04:00.005-06:00

Sorry to leave you hangin' guys. I'm in the process of formulating a new theme for my blog. I'm thinking a theme might help me blog more regularly and give me purpose. This current fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants isn't working for me it seems. And, the wireless internet in my new residence in Midvale leaves much to desire in the speed category, which is why I'm mostly pictureless these days.

So I'll get back to you when I have more direction. In the meantime, thanks for still lookin' in. As a reward, take a gander at the largest can of tuna fish you'll ever see:

Fear Factor

2009-06-15T22:22:00.002-06:00

Jason's always good for some blog inspiration.

His recent post cited the book Who Moved My Cheese, which I've never read but about which I've heard quite a bit. I guess in this book the author asks the question, "What would you do if you weren't afraid?"

To which my initial response was "Pf. I'm not afraid of anything."

And then I remembered the year that there was a yellow jacket nest outside my apartment door and how I got stung on the same hand three times by these stupid Kamikaze bees that would lie in wait for me on places like my pillow and then when I lay down they'd do their damage and fly away giggling a little waspy giggle to themselves, and how ever since then I've been afraid of bees.

Well, I wouldn't say "afraid" so much as "reluctant around" or "more prone to flail uncontrollably in the presence of".

In truth I'm a big bundle of insecurities. But insecure people make other people uncomfortable, and whether I like it or not I have been hardwired from birth to be overly conscious of other people's comfort and ridiculously accommodating in an effort to minimize any discomfort (which is what happens when you're raised by a man who has been in the hotel business all his life.)

So wah-law, here you have cool and collected Haley. You're welcome. Can I get you a drink?

But just for kicks I'll reveal a few things to you that I'd do if I weren't afraid:

Cut my hair off. I've always wondered what I'd look like with a chin-length A-line haircut. But the fear that resemble the character Alice from the Dilbert comic strip keeps me from doing it.

Ride the Skycoaster ride at Lagoon. Actual skydiving is completely out of the question, but I could maybe be coerced into riding this contraption if I could get the idea out of my head that I'd inevitably be featured on the next Fox 13 special When Things Go Wrong - Amusement Parks.

Get a Master's Degree in Public Administration. I love school, but I am terrified of unnecessary debt.

Pursue a career in parody songwriting. Someone's gotta take over when Weird Al kicks the bucket, right? I have the knack, but for whatever reason it's more socially acceptable for men to get away with being funny than it is for women. Weird Al is funny, Weird Haley would just be weird.

Say a good number of things to a good many people in my life that I don't have the courage to say. Don't lose sleep wondering if you're one of them. It's hard to imagine that with the stuff that DOES make it out of my mouth that there's even more that DOESN'T make it, huh?

There's my list. If you decide to fess up some of yours and blog about it, be sure to let me know so I can explore your vulnerable side too.

"We see things not as they are, but as we are."

2009-05-10T08:23:00.005-06:00

Someone important said that. But obviously not important enough for me to remember their name.

...Alright, I went and looked it up. It was Delbert Stapley. You'd think that name woulda stuck in my brain. I still don't know his significance though.

...Okay, I couldn't let that go either. Turns out Delbert Stapley was a member of the apostleship for the LDS Church at one point. The distinguishing characteristic that wikipedia finds important enough to note is that at one point in the 60's he fought AGAINST legislation in Michigan favoring civil rights. But keep in mind that the man was born in 1896. It then notes that his views eventually changed, and just months before he died he sustained the 1978 action of all worthy men receiving the priesthood regardless of race.

Huh. Now that this quote has some background it makes it even more interesting.

My degree, no matter how useless it might be in the business world, has actually benefitted me greatly in my interpersonal interactions. When studying Family and Human Development one learns a lot about behavior in a family context. And, since your family constitutes your most immediate relationships during your most formative years, a lot of issues people have as adults can be directly related back to how they were raised. Of course, there's a myriad of other variables that come into play as well, and it isn't to say that people can't be trained in our out of good or bad habits, but the things you learn from your family tend to be the things that stick. For good or ill.

What brought all this on, you ask? Is it that I crave school so much that I just decided to crank out a mini-essay on nature vs. nurture just for old times sake? Maybe a little.

But I've recently been reminded of the importance of context. People generally do not set out every day with the goal to be as inconsiderate as possible, or to hurt someone else's feelings, or to engage in other behaviors that are destructive to the relationships around them. But, I also don't feel that people should be spared the negative consequences that are a natural result of these destructive behaviors, because how else will the person be conditioned out of them?

For instance... at one time I was known to be fairly tactless with people about their failings. What justified this? The good ol' golden rule. I would hope to high heaven that if I were doing something stupid and didn't realize it, that someone would let me know so I could correct the behavior. So, I was just extending the same favor to other people around me under the assumption that they felt the same way I did.

As it turns out, most people DON'T like being told what they're doing wrong. Shocker, I know.

So, as I persisted in being the police woman of the universe, I began to notice that blowing my whistle at people started to have negative reprocussions of their own. People weren't comfortable being themselves around me, because heaven forbid one of their weaknesses poke out for me to see and call them on. When I thought I was helping people change for the better, it turned out people were just sucking in their guts until I was gone.

And I'd rather people be at ease around me than good around me.

So I've slowly moved away from that by trying to keep any behavior within context. It has helped me leaps and bounds in the charity department, too. It's a lot easier to love crappy people when you think that their crappiness isn't necessarily something they can control. And heaven knows I have my own set of crappy behaviors that I hope people can shake off until I can shake them off myself.

... I don't know where that all came from.

By way of a life update, I'm moving to Midvale in a couple of weeks. Not being one who likes feeling stagnant in any way, shape, or form, I was offered a room in a former roommate's new house, and I took it. I'm excited for the change and whatever growth will happen as a result.

I still love my job. You know that one restaurant where the buffet line moved and you just had to stand there and scoop stuff onto your plate as it passed? My job is like a moving buffet line of people. I go to work and every day new people come in and out of the volunteer area for me to meet and learn from. More often than not these people are happy to be there, too. I'm sure a prison security worker could also safely say that his job was like a moving buffet of people, but it'd be like a buffet of anchovies and canned peas and cat food and stuff. (For whatever reason, those were the three items that sounded the least appetizing right at this moment.)

There. There's a new blog post. Do what you will with it.

Pass the poi Mahana!

2009-03-29T20:58:00.019-06:00

Sorry for the ado. Laptop difficulties.
Without any further, I present to you the magic and mystery of Oahu.

Just for background information, my dear friend Wendy and her husband Dave (who is incidentally also my friend) live in Laie, where Wendy teaches at BYUH. Wendy has a former mission companion named Bonnie who I had met a couple times in passing, and I learned that she had purchased a ticket to visit our common friend. Having been toying with the idea myself without having any real dates in mind, I just decided to hop on the bandwagon.

The flight was long, due to the big fat ocean in the way. But upon landing in Honolulu I immediately initiated my shameless touristy picture-taking by snapping a shot of this at the airport:

While waiting for Wendy and Dave to pick us up, I picked up some pamphlets and studied up on some of the wonders... and hazards... of the paradise I suddenly found myself in.

(I've always had an unnatural fear of jellyfish that almost kept me from entering the ocean at all. Unnatural because I am more likely to be eaten alive by brine shrimp in my lifetime than be stung by a jellyfish.)

Wendy and Dave greeted us and, after a stop at Pali Lookout, we went to our first official Hawaiian dining experience:

I quickly learned that all the names in Hawaii are very literal. For instance, the bus there is called "The Bus". The restroom was labeled "toilet". About every school I saw was simply labeled "school". And, of course, their most popular grocery store chain:

It made me feel like I was in a Sims game of some kind.

I also quickly learned that there are wild chickens everywhere. They were frequently found crossing roads, which for some reason I never ceased to find amusing:

Eventually we made our way from the airport to Laie, where we unloaded our stuff and relaxed for the rest of the evening. Wendy and Dave's apartment is huge! And, apparently the contractor who built it decided to use every single last piece of leftover tile he owned to finish it:

We spent the whole next day at the Polynesian Cultural Center, which is like Disneyland without the rides. We learned to play Fijian instruments, we learned more about Hawaiian songs, and we got some Tahitian tattoos:

We took a break to eat a Shave Ice and watch the floating parade of dancers. I maintain that, given the proper grass skirt, that I could successfully dance almost as well as this Tahitian dancer. Tragically I don't own such a skirt, so it cannot be proven.

The Samoan presentation included this tree-climber guy. I was taking pictures practically right beneath him, so he seem extra conscienscious of keeping his skirt tucked beneath him:

In Tonga-land we made these fun fish toy things out of palm frands:

As the evening pushed on we made our way to the luau dinner and show. It was an ampitheater full of tables, with people finding their seats excited to eat luau food. Or that's the gist I got from the general excitement. Let's put it this way... no one seemed like they were dreading the meal.

As we waited, nice attendants walked around asking if we wanted to purchase the special smoothie drink. Knowing that my chances of ever returning to Hawaii are slim given my current occupation of choice, I decided to pay the money for it. They sneakily stuck this thing in the back of my chair indicating that I had purchased my drink, but I didn't realize it until it caught my periphary vision and scared the heck out of me. For a split second I thought I was being attacked by a tropical bird... and I didn't pay for THAT experience:

Soon I was presented with this delightful concoction:

...Which I happily slurped while waiting for the meal to begin. It was delicious, of course.

Soon enough we were excused from our table to go and load our plates full of luau food in a buffet-style. I kind of suspected that we wouldn't be able to return, which is why I piled my plate so high in the first place (I was right). The purple roll is made with poi, which is okay in roll form, but terrible by itself.

After a night show we went home to sleep, all cultured-out for the day.

The next day we woke up to a rainstorm, but headed to Honolulu nonetheless. While passing through the mountains to get to the other side of the island, the rain was coming down so hard that each little crevice in the mountain became a waterfall. It was beautiful. (My camera didn't work quite right for the rest of the trip as a result of me sticking it out the window of our car in the downpour. So treasure this picture, would ya?)

Our intention was to visit the USS Arizona memorial; however, the heavy downpour I guess made it dangerous for us to walk on the battleship, so it was closed when we got there. It being the only free attraction there, and the fact that the rest of them were outrageously priced ($24 bucks for a submarine tour?! I can watch the Hunt for Red October instead) we moved along.

So we decided to hit the swap meet instead, which is a whole lotta little shacks selling essentially the same touristy stuff lined up all around the stadium in Honolulu. This was the bathroom at the stadium. At first I thought this girl had no arms, but then I realized it's just the silhouette of someone who truly does have to pee really bad:

Their hand-washing technology is light-years ahead of ours.

This is us, holding our cheaply-purchased treasures. We fought hard for them, having to dash in and out of huts made of tarp between moments of torrential downpour:

From the swapmeet we went to the Punchbowl Memorial Cemetary, which is a bunch of WWII veterans buried inside of a volcano crater. It was a very powerful reminder to me of the many fights that have been fought for our freedoms over the years. This is part of a mosaic there:

From the cemetary we stopped and took pictures near this huge Banyan tree:

We then ate at Macaroni Grill, where I subtley expressed my fears once again:

On the way home we stopped at Turtle Beach, where... well... you guessed it. They apparently have a team of volunteers who cover the beach pretty much constantly and ensure that no one messes with the turtles when they come up to rest (hence the red rope keeping me from getting too close.) They had just affixed a transmitter to her shell (Olivia is her name) because her behaviors recently indicated that she was resting up for a long excursion elsewhere.

Then a couple beaches later we stopped just to watch the surfers for a minute, and I was rather amused at this brave man with his metal detector. (It made me wish there were such a thing as a Jellyfish detector.)

My happy feet.

The next day was Sunday, which meant church. (They really do say "aloha" at the beginning of every meeting. It's not just a gimmick. But, the response "aloha" from the congregation isn't ever nearly as enthusiastic as it is here in the states. I guess it would get old.) After church we ate and walked around the temple grounds. The temple itself was undergoing renevations, but the grounds were still beautiful. Here's me with the giant flowers whose actual name escapes me at the moment:

This is me hugging a palm tree. It's not my first picture of me doing this.

We then walked down Hukilau Beach for a bit, where Wendy helped me identify what is not a jellyfish. ("That's a piece of coral, not a jellyfish. ... That's just a leaf, not a jellyfish.")

On Monday Wendy and Dave had to work until that afternoon, so Bonnie and I took advantage of the bright sunny morning and went to catch some rays on the beach that is only a 5 minute walk from where we were.

When they got home we made our way to the North Shore part of the island, which is world-renoun for its surfing. And, for its Shave Ice. (Not shaved, mind you. Shave.)

After our treat we drove out to the beginning of a hike out to Ka'ena point, which is the westernmost point of Oahu. It wasn't a hike so much as an hour-and-a-half-meander down a very rocky, very pothole-ridden dirt road. The last little bit of the walk entailed an Albatross sanctuary, where we observed some behaviors worthy of Animal Planet:

At long last, we reached the point where we intended to whale watch. But, as you can see, we started a lot later than we anticipated, and by the time we got there the sun was setting rapidly.

...Which, as you can imagine, made our hike back pretty interesting. We hadn't brought any flashlights or anything, so we slowly made our way back down the rocky road with only the light from two cell phones to help us navigate around the mudholes and pitfalls (at times unsuccessfully.) It was so dark by the time we found the car that we didn't even know we had reached the car until we were three feet away from it. Here's the picture we took by cell-phone-light in the car once we found it, just to document exactly how dark it was:

The next day we spent the morning at Waimea Bay, where I finally entered the ocean beyond my ankles (after several assurances that the waters were jellyfish-free.) We body-boarded and snorkeled for a few hours. The snorkleing wasn't excellent, but I did see a few fish and actually caught sight of a sea turtle nearby during the five minutes my head was actually in the water (before I gave in to the charlie horses in my feet caused by the flippers.) I was more entertained by the bodyboarding, because being slammed into the beach and getting my swimsuit full of sand was a lot more fun to me.

Unfortunately I didn't take any pictures of this excursion. But it happened. I swear.

Then Wednesday morning Bonnie and I woke up and made our way down to the Hukilau Cafe (which, I guess, has been immortalized in the movie 50 First Dates, which I've never seen. It's not the same cafe as is in the movie, from what I'm told.)

It was a tiny cafe, with HUGE pancakes! I ordered the banana pancakes (in honor of Jack Johnson's song), and Bonnie got the coconut pancakes. Very delicious, but entirely too much food. You can't tell from this picture, but each pancake was about an inch thick.

It would be our last breakfast on the island, as we were flying out that night. Wendy and Dave came home from work and we headed out to explore about the only part of the island we'd yet to see, which was the south point. I don't remember the name of this point, but it was the last picture I took. (When I took this picture we were standing next to a couple who had literally just gotten married down at the beach and had ventured up to the lookout still in their wedding clothes to look down on the site of their matrimonial bliss. It took all my strength not to kick one of them in the shin before I left.)

From there we stopped for a meal at Chili's before they dropped us off at the airport. And thus we bade aloha to the island.

It was probably the most relaxing vacation I've ever been on, thanks to Wendy and Dave's hospitality. Having a free place to stay, an agenda already planned, and someone to drive you around (thanks Dave!) made this the vacation to beat in my lifetime so far.

And, notwithstanding the fact that it was no where near Christmastime, the song Mele Kaliki Maka was in my head pretty much the whole time I was there.

Big bucks, no Whammies!

2009-03-05T23:00:00.003-07:00

I, Haley Marie Greer, am a game show junkie.

I link this back to the days of year-round elementary school, where my brother KC and I would be left at home to fend for ourselves while off-track for a couple weeks at a time. We were old enough to take care of ourselves at that point so my mother can't really be accused of neglecting us while she was at work. We, being the Greers that we are, knew our way around the kitchen and were perfectly capable of preparing any number of instant meals on our own.

And besides, who needs a mother when you have Pat Sayjack and Chuck Woolery to raise you?

I had a specific line-up of shows every day. Some were more critical than others, so depending on the day I might have skipped one show or another to either prepare the before-mentioned instant lunch or to go downstairs and perfect my Super Mario Kart skills. But here the shows are, in the order I remember them appearing on my television each day:

The Price is Right - Came on right after mom left and Little House on the Prairie ended.
Supermarket Sweep - A grocery pricing game, which resulted in a mad-dash through a grocery store to "buy" as many things as possible for the most money possible. It made me very conscious of how very expensive meat was compared to other things.
Shop-Till-You-Drop - Much like Supermarket Sweep, but set in a mall setting. Even as a 5th grader I remember thinking how goofy the premise of this show was.
Win, Lose, or Draw - One of my favorites, because I fancied myself somewhat of an artist at that age. I didn't have a clue who the celebrities were that they got to be on the show, but the audience thought they were hysterical, and so of course I did too.
Love Connection - I had no interest in the actual compatibility of the couples on this show. Instead, I lived to see if the person the contestant picked for themselves was the same or different from the one the audience chose for them. I found all kinds of suspense in that for some reason.
The Newlywed Game - This was usually the show I skipped the most often to go make myself some mac and cheese and pester my brother for awhile.
Name That Tune - I LOVED this game, even though I rarely knew the songs they were singing.
Hollywood Squares - Also one of my favorite shows. Still would be if it still was on. Wait, is it still on? I know Whoopi Goldberg made a comeback with it for awhile...
100,000 Pyramid - I'm pretty sure this is the game that made me yell at the TV the most often. Which is funny, because the correct answer would be displayed on the bottom of the screen, so of COURSE the contestant would be an idiot compared to me.
Press Your Luck - If you haven't seen this show, you're missing out. It still plays on the Game Show Network if you have access to it. Hi-lar-ious. And original to boot.

Of course, all of this was just something to occupy my time until Saturday rolled around and American Gladiators, my true reason for living, came on.

Most of my life goals are fairly vague and non-specific. But I've recently decided that being on a professional game show is one of them. Not reality TV mind you (which is the poor man's gameshow because it clouds the "game" of the gameshow with ridiculous drama... with the exception of the Amazing Race of course), but a real gameshow where there are winners and losers clearly established in no longer than a one-hour show.

I'm thinking my best bet for this to happen will be the Price is Right, but it would be my happiest day ever if I could make it on the Wheel of Fortune. Why? Because I'm fairly confident I would clean up. However, they don't seem to have shows that aren't themed around something, and I'm not in college, I'm not in the armed forces, I don't follow NASCAR, and I happen to still be without a sweetheart, so I might be out of luck. There's no "Mediocre White Girl Week" on the Wheel.

There should be. I'd clean up.

On an unrelated note, I leave for Hawaii in a week. It's safe to bet that my next post will involve pictures from that escapade.

Needs.

2009-02-20T19:49:00.004-07:00

It's been a long week at work, notwithstanding the actual shortness of the week due to the holiday.

Consequently, I will not be tapping my own thoughts tonight, for they are not my most upbeat. Instead, I'll be stealing a hilarious tag from my friend Jason:

Google the phrase (including the quotes) "[your first name] needs" and write down the first 10 results.

1. Haley needs to grow up.
2. Haley needs HELP and it has NOTHING to do with $$$$$$$$$$
3. Haley needs a sister.
4. Haley needs to stop laughing.
5. Haley needs to keep her hands to herself. (*snort*)
6. Haley needs a storyline Marky! (?)
7. Haley needs to get back to Walking Mississippi.
8. Haley needs funds to amputate leg so she can survive. (!)
9. Haley needs to Step Up.
10. Haley needs to beat that skank's arse!!! (okay, this one was really like number 13, but I thought it was so funny that I had to include it on the list.)

I encourage you to humbly request your own needs from the all-knowing Google.

And, for the record, I never have nor will I ever need a sister. EVER. If I did, I'm sure I would need to beat that skank's arse. ;)

...so stay with me and I'll have it made.

2009-02-15T22:48:00.005-07:00

I don't know how many of you are familiar with the band Blind Melon.

Even if you're not familiar with the band itself, I can almost guarantee you're familiar with their most popular song, No Rain.

But tragically, many of you may have not seen the music video to the song No Rain by Blind Melon.

And so I think you should watch it. Here.

That being viewed, now you'll understand when I say that some days I feel like the bee girl.

Play-By-Play Saturday

2009-01-10T10:15:00.002-07:00

For those just joining us, I work at a certain Bank of Food in Utah (referred to generically so as to prevent our PR girl from finding my blog. If it didn't work, Hi Jess!) I absolutely love my job. (And I'm not just saying that because I have PR girls potentially reading this.) My days are filled with people, and as most of you know, I love people. I'm at work on this Saturday morning, and since it's a somewhat slow day in our warehouse, I thought I'd give you a little log of what happens throughout my day, so you can maybe understand why I'm slowly becoming a workaholic.

7:45am - Arrive at work to find a group of boyscouts locked out of the parking lot, waiting out in the cold to come in and do their scheduled service. They offer me a donut while we wait. I silently curse the Saturday project managers and make a vow to campaign for my own set of keys on Monday.

8:05 - One of the boyscouts gets brave enough to scale the chain link fence and go alert someone inside to the fact that the gate was still locked. One of the project managers sheepishly comes outside and apologizes. My contempt is swept away.

8:15 - A handful of court-ordered community service workers straggle in. One (Short Squirrley Man) is sent to start building a fort of empty boxes in the sort room; another (Jerry Garcia) is sent to restock some stuff, and another (David Archuleta's evil twin) is sent to organize the supply closet. David seems insulted by the menial task he's assigned. I refrain from reminding him that he, only weighing 90 lbs, is not suited for our heavier work.

8:45 - A troubled youth work group shows up to do whatever we need them to. I tell them to go sweep. They inform me there are no brooms on the wall. I tell them to go on a super fun scavenger hunt in the warehouse to FIND all the brooms, and THEN proceed to sweep. They're not fooled by the words "super" and "fun".

9:00 - A family shows up to sort food, led by their father who resembles Mr. Magoo. One of the sons has long blonde hair topped with a beanie. I wonder how many Cousin It references he gets in any given day. I give them the food sorting song and dance: chili is a canned meal, olives are a condiment, refried beans are an ethnic food. They, as usual, don't listen, because how hard could sorting food be?

9:15 - I notice that the project manager has a dirt stripe across his face, most likely from moving pallets. I decide not to tell him. That'll teach him to leave me waiting in the cold with the gate locked. Looks like not ALL of my contempt was swept away.

10:00 - Mrs. Magoo comes to ask me what category chili belongs in. I want to tell her EXACTLY where she can stick it. Instead, I kindly remind her that it is a canned meal.

10:05 - An unscheduled family comes in and wants to help. I put them to work, but ask them to schedule in the future so we know they're coming. The mother is a little offended - her family comes in ALL the time unannounced and no one's given her a hassle before. I seriously doubt it. I soothe her ego by telling her we're actually really GLAD they did show because we truthfully needed their help a lot today. It's a lie, but it makes her happy.

10:10 - The Magoo daughter comes over to ask where chili goes. The Magoo family apparently aren't effective communicators. But at least they were on the schedule.

10:45 - Evil David Archuleta declares himself done organizing the closet, and asks for a print out of his hours completed so far. I ask what happened to the printout I gave him on Friday. He shrugs. I sigh and smile.

11:15 - A Spanish woman and her daughter come in, and the daughter asks, "Is this where we get food?" I pull out a list of pantries in the county and hand it over, referring them to their local agency, and send them away. It's the saddest part of my job... sending a hungry family away from a warehouse full of food. But that's how it goes.

11:20 - A dock door is opened, letting in a blast of arctic air. I shiver, and zip up my giant coat. One of the warehouse boys notices me and laughs. I throw a piece of Christmas candy at him. I'm then reminded that I should probably erase the caroling penguins off the white board behind me and draw something non-Christmas themed instead. I'm sad to see the penguins go... they took some doing to get up there in the first place.
... I'm also reminded that I should probably do my part to eat the rest of the Christmas candy.

11:35 - A father rolls a cart full of food boxes to be delivered past my desk. His 3 year old son is sitting on top of the boxes, enjoying the ride. From my seat behind the volunteer desk all I see is a blonde little boy's head giggling, floating past me. I offer them my Christmas candy as they leave, and decide to eat my apple and peanut butter instead.

11:43 - I make the mistake of going back to my office for a moment to retrieve some paperwork and see that there are 7 messages on my phone. I choose to pretend I didn't see them.

12:03 - I send another Spanish family away with a list of food pantries.

12:14 - Mr. Magoo and family want to be put on the schedule for next Saturday too. I tell them that, unfortunately, we're booked that day. They settle for the following two Saturdays. Cousin It hasn't smiled since he walked in the doors, and still looks grim upon leaving. His morning of fighting hunger seems to have had no effect on his cold, sad heart.

12:15 - I decide to stop blogging while working, because it seems to be taking priority over the data entry that needs to be done.

So there you have it. That's a nice sampling of what I do for a living. There are definitely days that are much more stress and chaos-filled (take, for instance, the forty 10-year-olds and their two leaders that were here on Friday), but for now, I'll happily take this quiet Saturday.

As long as Evil David doesn't give me any more attitude.

Shh! Quiet up there!

2009-01-01T22:30:00.002-07:00

Despite what infrequent blog postings might indicate, my brain is actually quite noisy these days. But, like some other blogging friends have indicated, there are just too many people of consequence who check in on this blog for me to be very specific or candid about anything. Maybe I should set up a different blog for only specific subscribers to view--people who would be a great audience for my antics, but whose reach in my life is not close enough to interfere.

Don't get excited. It probably won't happen.

Recently I've been thinking about puzzles. Those 1000 piece suckers that cause you ridiculous amounts of frustration for being an inanimate object and a general waste of time. I love them, because in the midst of all the frustration of searching through pieces that DON'T fit, you get little injections of satisfaction and accomplishment every time you DO find a piece that fits. No matter how down, confused, disheartened, and intimidated by life's ups and downs you may be, in the moment you snap one of those pieces into its perfect and intended place, you are on top of the world and capable of anything.

But then moment passes, and you're on to your next piece.

And then there are those pieces... those pieces that, upon first look, seem to have found their rightful position in the puzzle. But you look closer to see the slightest amount of wiggle or resistance to the piece as you stick it in, and you know in your heart of hearts that the piece is not right. Still, you find yourself trying to pound the piece into place anyway or wiggling it over and over again in a vain effort to get that shot of satisfaction that only comes with true piece completion. You've been searching for that piece for the longest time, surely anything to fill the void at this point would be better than nothing. But you know it's not, and that it will only cause problems with future pieces if you were to continue to pretend the wrong piece was right.

So you begrudgingly remove the piece and go find a Caffeine-free Diet Dr. Pepper to drown your sorrows.

And then when you have several people working on puzzles, out of the corner of your eye you'll note them successfully clicking pieces into place with ease. If you're self conscious about your own puzzle-completing abilities, this might make you frustrated and want to abandon the puzzle for awhile. Or, their success can remind you that, with persistence, progress CAN be made on the puzzle, and can encourage you to keep at it, no matter what skills you lack in the spatial relations department.

I also find it helpful to look at the picture on the front of the box, provided by the puzzle's creator. Though it may not give much specific help as to individual pieces, it's great for general ideas of where pieces should go. And, the complete picture gives you an image of what you're striving for and makes you excited to get there.

...What?

I just really like puzzles, okay?

After all, I've never been one to be known for being figurative...

And She's True

2008-12-16T07:27:00.003-07:00

Jeff did this tag, and it looked like something fun to change things up. So here you go:

JUST FOR FUN….
Feel free to do this yourself.

Directions:
1. Put your iPod, iTunes, Windows Media Player, etc. on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the “next” button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY OR NON-SENSICAL IT SOUNDS

1. IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY” YOU SAY?
More Than Words - Extreme

2. HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
For the Longest Time - Billy Joel

3. WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR IN A GUY/GIRL?
Jaws Theme - John Williams

4. HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Dream Catch Me - Newton Faulkner

5. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE PURPOSE?
I Dreamed a Dream - Debbie Byrne - Les Miserables Soundtrack

6. WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Ticket to Ride - The Carpenters

7. WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Shine - Collective Soul

8. WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Enjoy the View - Kim Richardson

9. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
You Were Mine - Dixie Chicks

10. WHAT IS 2 + 2?
Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World - Israel Kamakawiwo'ole

11. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Circles - Soul Coughing

12. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Annie's Song - John Denver

13. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Theme from Shaft

14. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Beetlejuice Theme - Danny Elfman

15. WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
When I'm Sixty Four - The Beatles

16. WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
One Night in Bangkok - Chess Soundtrack

17. WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Good People - Jack Johnson

18. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
Harmony - Colors

19. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Satellite - Dave Matthews Band

20. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Any Dream Will Do - Andrew Lloyd Webber

21. SONG THEY WILL PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Every Little Thing She Does is Magic - Sting and the Police

22. WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
And She's True - Peter Breinholt

Missionsick

2008-12-04T22:17:00.002-07:00

This time of the year five years ago (ugh) I was serving as a full-time missionary in the Arizona Tempe Mission. More specifically, I was serving in a small-ish mountain town called Pinetop-Lakeside, Arizona. Not many people picture themselves in a forest of pine trees when they think of Arizona, but believe me, it was like a little patch of Oregon had gotten lost and wandered too far south.

And I loved it. Well, other than the subtle but constant feeling of claustrophobia caused by the trees blocking my view of the horizon.

The small community was fairly tight-knit, and there was only one person to fill each role like in a storybook town. The postman, the grocer, the high school principal, the mortician, the restaurant manager... the whole time I served there the song "Who are the people in your neighborhood?" was in my head pretty constantly. And, well, we were your friendly neighborhood Mormon missionaries. Everyone knew who we were, and most people (LDS or no, crazy or sane, murder suspect and assault convict alike) liked us. We'd go out to eat to find out our meal had been already paid for. We'd get to the end of a grocery line to find that someone had already swiped their card to pay for our groceries. And, though it was my first Christmas away from my family, I never really got homesick due to the outpouring of love I received during the holiday season.

Instead, every holiday season since, my heart aches for Pinetop-Lakeside more than my heart ever ached for home while I was away.

So though I doubt any of these people know this blog exist, I'd like to give a few shout-outs:

To the Whatcott family, the kindest and most humble people I've ever known. Especially to Sister Whatcott, who has since passed away. She was too incredible for this earth, it seems.

To Cindy Brown and her husband, for the GIGANTIC basket of Christmas gifts and all the times they let us come in and interrupt their watching of the hunting channel to try and convince them to come to church. It never worked, but we were loved just the same.

To Erik Rudneck and his 8 year old daughter, for letting us play Risk with them instead of him drinking with his friends. It was only one night, but in his words, "hey, sober fun can be fun."

To Valerie's husband who restrung an old guitar he found at the D.I. and gave it to me for Christmas. He introduced me to the genre of cowboy poetry while my companion would sneakily teach the discussions to his wife while he was distracted.

To Little Dove, the crazy woman in town who seemed to be there to teach charity to everyone she encountered.

To Dave Shepherd, the manager of the Love Kitchen, for teaching me invaluable lessons about unconditional love and allowing us to serve the needy alongside him.

To Kerri Liddel and her kids for the large Christmas meal she made specifically for us, and for forgiving us for never showing up.

Those are just a few of the people who touched my life that Christmas. And, who knew I had to go to AZ to have my first white Christmas in years?

Thanks

2008-11-27T18:38:00.002-07:00

... for the usual: my faith, freedoms, friends, family, health, food, shelter, and job.

But also...

... for my talents, my strengths, my weaknesses, those who aren't afraid to tell me I'm wrong, the opportunities I'm given to learn, the education I've received thus far, the opportunities I'm given to serve, those who inspire me to be a better person, those who are always there on the rare occasions that I'm humbled enough to ask for help.

And... strawberry rhubarb pie.

Happy Thanksgiving, all.

What is this feeling?

2008-11-14T22:41:00.002-07:00

For the first time ever, I do not have the slightest bit of dread on Monday mornings.

When my workday is supposed to be done, I don't leave as soon as I possibly can.

I will work for 6 or so hours until my growling stomach reminds me I've forgotten to eat that day.

Translation: my new position at work has been a very good change. It's a lot more fun to fight hunger on the front lines than on the back ones.

Two posts in the same week?!

2008-11-03T21:54:00.002-07:00

... Hope I don't pull a muscle or anything.

I don't know how else to say this, but... I love people.

There is not a day that goes by when I'm not touched by someone and they have absolutely no idea that they're, um, touching me. (Careful.)

For example...

Yesterday I was in my car running errands for work. I drove past a pretty forgotten little street right next to the freeway, and in one glance I took in a parked garbage truck, a smaller car parked behind it, and a man, a woman, and a small child being held by the man standing near the two parked vehicles. And from that one glance I knew it was a man who drove a garbage truck for a living who had stopped for his lunch break, and his little family had driven out to meet him wherever he was, just to spend that one hour (or however long) with him.

I wanted to pull over and give them all a big hug. (I didn't. Believe it or not, I have SOME sense of social propriety.)

Another example: When I get the time I will spend my lunch at a park right near my work. I'll go park my car under the trees full of falling yellow and gold leaves, and I'll whip out a book and read during my break. Well, recently I've noticed that the same car always shows up around the same time I do; a middle-aged woman who will park some distance away from me, and then also just sit in her car and sometimes will whip out a book. Without having spoken to her I feel a bit of camaraderie with this woman. I don't know what she does for a living, I don't know if it's her dream job or a stressful one, but I do know that she appreciates a moment alone once a day to be near nature, to sort through her own thoughts and/or escape them by reading someone else's.

I flashed her a smile as I drove away from the park today. I'm pretty sure she's aware of my regular appearance during her lunchtime too.

Anyway, I don't really know what this post was about. I guess it's my little way of thanking the many strangers who inspire me each day, since thanking them individually would most likely creep them out.

Jagged little pills

2008-11-01T23:00:00.004-06:00

Lessons I've recently learned in the continuing evolution of myself:

- I really am a very independent person.
- Independence is a sneaky form of pride; like many virtues, too much of it becomes a vice.
- Independence is a very hard habit to kick when in vice-form.
- Dependence is even harder for me to forgive in others.
- I don't like being defaulted to for decision-making purposes, just because I'm not afraid make decisions.
- I sometimes hold people to impossibly high expectations.
- I shouldn't.
- I also shouldn't blog when I'm tired.

Apologies to anyone harmed in the making of this person.

If you don't know me by now...

2008-10-25T22:08:00.003-06:00

I DARE any one of you to say you didn't just start singing an 80's song upon reading this title.

Anyway, check this out. It pretty much epitomizes one of my defining characteristics. Thanks to Nate for finding it.

I hope to blog more soon. But I hope for many things. We'll see if it happens.

TMI

2008-10-08T19:47:00.002-06:00

Special thanks to Erin for giving me an assignment to blog about. She tagged me to write 6 insignificant things about myself. I think I've done this tag before, but I'm just a wealth of insignificance, so here are 6 new ones:

1) I sneeze in threes (generally). This has become common knowledge to most who interact with me regularly because I'm pretty much constantly sneezing from April to October. A related story: Once in junior high I sneezed my triple sneeze and the kid in front of me turned around and said, "You're a witch."

"Excuse me?"

"You're a witch. Witches sneeze in threes."

Another related thought... I often wonder what happens in the third sneeze to get the tickle out of my nose that is not accomplished in the first or second one. These are the thoughts that occupy my brain instead of, oh, I don't know, what day and time my Relief Society Presidency meeting is or the important document I was supposed to mail at work.

2) Any touristy place I go I try and find one of those penny-squishing machines. I have probably two dozen squished pennies now between me and my friend McWayne. Our deal is that whoever gets married first gets to keep all of the pennies. Like it's some kind of incentive (incentive... get it?) to hurry the process along. Eternal bliss nothin... I want those pennies!

3) I would readily eat something salty before something sweet. I'll take popcorn or cheese fries over ice cream or cookies any day.

4) I HATE purses. I wish that it were socially acceptable for girls to wear baggy jeans so they could carry their keys and wallet in a pocket and not have it look ridiculous (or cancerous). The purse I currently own has been mine for probably 5 years, and is more of a satchel than a purse really. It's fading and wearing thin, meaning I'll have to purchase a new one soon. Every time I try to buy a new one, I get frustrated and mad at society. (Erin, maybe you should take me purse shopping.)

5) Anytime I know there's a key change coming up in a song, I say (or think, depending on my surroundings) "Key change!" right before it happens. This is thanks to being raised with a musician as an older brother who liked to do that anytime we were on family outings in the car. I also drum on everything, thanks to my drummer of a little brother. It would be cooler if I knew what the heck I was doing. I don't. But dang it, I know a key change when I hear one.

6) I cannot swim with my face in the water without having one hand plugging my nose. I've tried to teach myself, to no avail. I've tried to have others teach me, also unsuccessfully. In short, I'm not the first person you want to have with you in a high-risk swimming environment, because I'd probably still try to save you, but with one arm plugging and the other arm propelling, that leaves my toes to try and grasp a drowning victim. A couple years ago I had dreams of becoming a water aerobics instructor (snicker all you want, I'd be awesome at it), but when I realized that certified instructors also need to be certified lifesavers, I came off that cloud real quickly.

There you go. Maybe people should give me assignments more often. It seems I miss school.

The one where I catch up.

2008-09-21T20:17:00.005-06:00

People spend their Labor Day in a variety of ways. I spent mine at a fascinating display of animal instinct. This was an incredibly intense standoff between the dog and the sheep who were NOT going to go quietly.

People run for a variety of reasons. I run, actually, for a variety of reasons myself. On Sept. 6th I ran the Wasatch Women Love Your Body 5k race. I finished in better time than I thought I would. I went alone, meaning I had only me to take this less-than-awesome picture. I want to run another one Thanksgiving morning, and then another on New Years Eve.

People head to Northern Utah for a variety of reasons. I went to soothe the Logan-shaped hole in my heart. My friend Codi and I went to see our friend Valene... and we couldn't help but purchase some things at the Fruit Way en route. This is a fabulous picture of Codi, if I do say so myself.

People go to Southern Utah for a variety of reasons. I went to go see the musical Big River at Tuacahan. While there I also was privileged to see some of the most beautiful landscape on earth, reminding me how much I love Utah.

And, finally, people plan on purchasing new iPods for a variety of reasons. I'll be purchasing mine soon because this graphic is the only thing my iPod will display after a tragic running accident.

I plan on purposely slowing my life down a bit... meaning that future posts might just have original insight in them rather than just being a travel log.

This past week I...

2008-09-07T22:41:00.003-06:00

... saw a sheepdog championship. (entertaining.)
... learned more about potential moving options. (thought-provoking.)
... caught up with some good friends. (amusing.)
... caught up on some church calling stuff. (overdue.)
... helped put on a benefit concert. (under-attended.)
... ran a 5k. (exhilerating.)
... saw Big: the musical. (the movie is better.)
... became truly brunette. (a good change.)
... went to the improv. (satisfying.)
... taught Relief Society. (anxiety-inducing.)
... inherited a suped-up XBox. (will never be bored again.)
... blogged about my week. (also overdue.)

This coming week I...

... will go to the fair.
... will catch up with some more good friends.
... will do more church calling stuff.
... will participate in YSA Family Feud.
... will escape to a magical land called Logan for the weekend.
... hope to go running at least twice.
... hope to post some pictures of past activities for your viewing pleasure.

Sorry everyone. This is what it's come to.

Shameless Self-Promotion

2008-08-31T08:58:00.006-06:00

Lately I've been thinking a bit about the sensation of hunger. How rare it is that I go very long feeling hungry without being able to immediately eat something to satisfy me at least to the point of no longer being uncomfortable. And then I think about the times that I fast and how, at times, it's difficult to concentrate on anything else other than NOT being able to eat.

And then I wonder about those who do not have the blessing of always having food within their reach, and how miserable that must be. It must be incredibly difficult to function when that fundamental need of nourishment isn't being met.

And then it makes me happy to work where I do (the BANK of FOOD in UTAH... I've learned that if I type it all together that the PR girl can run a search and find out where it's being posted and I'd rather them not read my blog). I am able to spend my 40 hours a week trying to meet that fundamental need for people, even if it's somewhat indirectly at times.

That being said, I'd like to invite you all to an event coming up this Friday, September 5th. The Summer Hunger Jam is a free hunger awareness concert at the Gateway (near the fountain) from 6pm-9pm. The headliners are Nancy Hanson and Nathan Osmond so it'll be pretty hokey, but if you need to shop or are looking for something to do (or are looking for ME) then come on over.

...Unless you're in my ward and female. In that case you're cordially invited to attend Enrichment that night, and if I see your face at the concert I'll bounce you.

The milkman, the paperboy, evening TV.

2008-08-23T14:06:00.015-06:00

Do you like pictures? Here's hopin'. I now present to you a highly visual account of my week in San Francisco.

I met my co-worker and traveling companion Linda at the airport Sunday morning. Our flight departed at 8:30am-ish. This was my view as our plane started moving.

These colorful chunks of the salt flats confused me. What exactly are they farming out there? Red and green sea monkeys for Christmas time? Anyone with a real answer to this is encouraged to leave a comment and end my wondering.

They tell me that the earth is round, but for whatever reason I'm still fascinated when I see the curvature of it for myself.

Our landing was uneventful. We found ourselves a shuttle and shared it with a tall young man with a deep southern accent. Further conversation revealed that he was an major league baseball umpire and was there to umpire the game between the Oakland A's and the Chicago White Sox. He looked about my age (the youngest in the league, he informed us) and he told us that umpire training camp is a lot like boot camp: they yell at you a lot to build up your nerves. I always thought professional umpires and referees must be the most depressed and dejected people ever, but this fellow was quite chipper. I ALMOST asked to get a picture of him, but thought that would creep him out.

After we dropped the umpire off our driver started to chat with us a bit. When he found out we were from Salt Lake he asked if we were Mormon, to which Linda remained silent (she isn't, and has a bit of a chip on her shoulder sometimes about it) and I told him that I was. He then told me about how beautiful the new Oakland temple is and that every time he has friends come in from India that he takes them to the LDS visitors center there, and then takes them to HIS temple where they let EVERYONE in, unlike the LDS temple. He then asked me how many wives Mitt Romney has. I wished I had gotten off with the umpire at the baseball stadium.

We got to our hotel, which I'll show you more of in a second. They wouldn't let us officially check in until 3pm and we were there around 10:45am, so I dropped my bag off and headed toward the trains. In an effort to not have to spend an entire day sightseeing with a co-worker (who isn't my first choice of companionship) I decided I was going to find my way to church in San Francisco. It just so happened that the only meeting in the area that started later was a singles ward.

I hopped on a train heading in the right direction and swiftly realized that though I was on the right train and had the address I needed to stop at that I hadn't the foggiest idea how far that would be. So I started to send secret hopes into the heavens that somehow I'd figure out which stop was mine, and no sooner had I started to panic that a kid in a suit, tie, and suspiciously-scripture-shaped luggage got on the train and sat across from me. I said a silent prayer of thanks and summoned my courage and asked if he was LDS, and he was. He also happened to be a YSA headed to the same church I was, so I asked if I could just follow him there. He turned out to be the choir director of the ward, and he let me join in their choir practice while I waited for church to start. The ward was incredibly friendly and I very much enjoyed my Sunday.

One thing I like about San Francisco is that it is full of characters. This girl, for instance. I was waiting for my train back to the hotel when I was joined by this girl dressed in a medieval dress and a head-to-toe green crushed-velvet cape. I was hungry and tempted to ask her for some lembas bread, but decided against it. But I did try to sneakily take a picture and this is all I got.

Another thing I love about San Francisco is how entertaining people are on the streets. Here's some footage of a very talented group of guys who I saw on my way back from church:

One thing I do NOT love about S.F. is the humidity. My nice and straightened hair when I left Salt Lake had turned into this mess of a mane by the end of the day. Note the expression of amused disgust on my face:

Here's a picture of our humble accommodations. The Union Square Plaza Hotel is a remodeled boarding house. You know in the movie Big where Tom Hanks first runs away from home and takes up residence in a seedy downtown hotel? It kind of reminded me of that.

The sign:

The front door:

The view from our fifth floor looking down the stairs:

The view out the window:

I was in S.F. in the first place to train on a software that my employer uses to maintain records, so that's what the bulk of my week was spent doing (from 9am - 5pm each day). Monday after training we decided to walk from our training facility to Fisherman's Wharf. Here's a creepy circus being advertised during our walk. Wouldn't YOU want to come play?

Fisherman's Wharf turned out to be a touristy mall. I don't love shopping, so I was a bit disappointed.

The sealions even disappointed. Not a ONE balanced ANYTHING on his nose.

The clam chowder in the sourdough breadbowl, however, did not disappoint.

From the Wharf we walked further down the water to Ghiradelli square. What's that, I asked? More shopping, it turns out. But there was an abundance of stores that offered the namesake chocolate that is so popular.

The little girl playing peek-a-boo in line with me while I waited to purchase my goods.

My chocolate overdose, with my coworker Linda in the background with hers.

At this point I had my fill of the tourist bit for one evening, but Linda insisted that we wait the hour in line to ride a trolly. So we waited.

This man entertained us while we waited. For whatever reason I was incredibly touched by the contrast between his destitute appearance and the richness of his voice and his talent. It made me wish I could get him to a different state of life where he could impress a whole lot more people than the masses at the trolley stop. But, maybe he really digs it there, who knows. This is a bit of his song (I'm sorry about the people talking rather loudly in the background. I was able to tune them out, but apparently my camera wasn't):

We finally got on our trolley (in the middle crammed by people and without a view because it was dark), and it promptly broke down about ten minutes into our ride. We were ushered off the trolley onto a shuttle bus to take us the rest of the way, and the bus bottomed out pretty hard in one intersection and threw us all violently forward into each other. As we finally got off the bus the back doors closed on Linda as she was trying to get off. She eventually admitted that maybe the trolley wasn't the best of ideas.

Though exhausted by the many miles of walking, I was pleased with my purchases:

The next day after training we explored Chinatown. Here was the gate:

And, here are the souveniers I chose for my roommates. They're pencil erasers. And I couldn't stop laughing at them:

We stopped at one of the many Chinese food restaurants (or, in this context, just plain restaurants) and ate some of the real stuff. Turns out I prefer the fake stuff... but here's a shot of me eating my Mongolian beef and rice:

There was some kind of drama going on between the owner of the restaurant and this shady-lookin' guy in the background of the following picture in the leather jacket. All I know is he came in and there was a heated exchange before the owner finally gave the leather-jacket guy a fistful of money and retreated back to the kitchen. This is a (sneaky) shot of the leather jacket guy, victorious, counting his money:

The next morning Linda called me and informed me that she found bugs in her bed and that she was arranging for us to switch hotels. This made me grumpy because I thought our hotel was just fine (though a little run down) and we DO work for a non-profit organization, so what does she expect? However, before long I found myself being magically whisked away from the old hotel to this beauty:

This is my room. It is way more impressive in person:

I spent the whole time during training fuming at the fact that we were now costing the organization $300 a night instead of $89, because the money could surely used for better causes than my comfort. But my guilt eventually was removed by other co-workers at work via email during the training, and eventually I decided to embrace my comforts since there wasn't anything I could do about it:

At this point I think Linda was pretty tired of me and I had sure had my fill of her, so for Wednesday and Thursday nights we kind of did our own thing and didn't venture far from the hotel. We did go hunt for ice cream together to celebrate the fact that we were going home the next day, because at that point both of us were DONE and ready to go home.

Though I really enjoyed San Francisco as a city and vacation destination, I think I'll enjoy it more when I have more time to explore and friends to be with. So, for now, I was happy to leave it behind and get back to my loved ones in boring ol' West Valley.

And that was my trip. More than anything it made me decide that if I ever become homeless that I'm headed to S.F. because I'll be in good (and talented) company.

Ding Ding!

2008-08-16T21:13:00.002-06:00

I'm leaving tomorrow morning on a business trip. I promise to document it well and will tell my tales when I return. In the meantime, here's a fairly obvious hint at my destination:

Wend-ding

2008-08-05T21:18:00.010-06:00

Before I begin with the topic at hand, I'd like to thank you all for the memories posted in the last post. Every single one of them made me smile and/or chuckle out loud. Cookies all around!

This past Saturday one of my dearest friends Wendy Whitaker became Wendy Larson. Most of those who read this blog regularly are acquainted with her, so these pictures are for you! Those who don't, well... read on anyway. You may find yourself amused nonetheless.

It was a pleasantly overcast day at the Mount Timpanogos Temple. This was supposed to be more artistic of a shot, but instead it's just the view you would have if you passed out in a flowerbed on the temple grounds.

The sealing was beautiful and happy (as sealings are wont to be). Then there were pictures outside of the temple:

The happy couple:

This is Sam and I. Sam is Dave's best friend. These are the faces we made upon the prompt of "seductive winks". With such powers it amazes us that we're the single ones.

We made our way to the wedding luncheon to find Wendy's siblings using the M&Ms on the table to bet on anything and everything they could. Such bets included the exact time Wendy and Dave would arrive at the luncheon, whether or not Wendy would eat everything on her plate, and how many speeches would be made at the event.

Upon closer inspection these were no ordinary M&Ms...

To complete our juvenile behavior, we used the tiny champagne glasses (no longer full of M&Ms) to toast to the newlyweds.

The reception was beautiful as well, and I saw many familiar faces. After their honeymoon Dave and Wendy are moving to Hawaii to work and live... and to find me a handsome Polynesian boy. Congrats to them!

Scattered PIC-tures....

2008-07-27T23:02:00.004-06:00

Alrighty, I'm totally cheating here. Bonny had a really fun blog entry challenging all of her readers to tell a memory they had of her, and the most amusing one would win a prize.

I'm going to request the same from any of you reading this. However, it will have to be pure intrinsic motivation that gets you to play along, because I have no prize to offer for the most amusing memory. Well, maybe I have a better idea. Every single one of you that records a memory in the comments will have the right to request homemade chocolate chip cookies from me at any given time (understanding that the production turnaround will be no less than 24 hours.)

This is redeemable forever, so if you're not in my vicinity currently then next time you're here vacationing or visiting family or have made the trek purely for the cookie's sake (which is understandable because I make a mean chocolate chip cookie), so be it. Also, a special prize for the first person who can make sense of the title of this entry.

So start racking your brains, kids. I'd love to hear what memories of me have stuck in your heads. Also because at the rate my own memory is failing me I can use the reminding. Ready go!

Oh, the picture at the top is pretty old... though that's probably pretty close to what I look like squinting nowadays. I put it on this entry because I'm looking back. Which is what you'll all be doing. Get it? Ha. Ahaha.

Oblogotory

2008-07-23T07:32:00.002-06:00

It's been a week and a half - and I'm due for a blog entry. However, time is short and pictures of my activities are few. So instead, I'll offer a few questions from a book I got for my birthday/Christmas entitled If... Questions for the Soul.

If you feel so inclined, answer these for yourself in the comments so I can get to know my audience a bit better and possibly cater future blog entries to you! *That's a lie. There will be no catering.*

If you could plan your last meal, what would be on your menu?

My answer: Chicken Salad from Cafe Rio and a lemonade Slurpee.

If you could be buried or have your ashes spread anywhere on earth, where would it be?

My answer: Somewhere in Grand Teton National Park.

If you were to have one entertainer at your funeral, who would it be?

My answer: Karen Carpenter. Not only would she sing beautifully, but she'd be a ghost, and THAT would be cool.

These, believe it or not, are some of the less ridiculous ones. Some of those include:

What is life's greatest adventure?

If you were the devil for a day, what would you do?

And my personal favorite:

If an angel were to come down and whisper one thing in your ear every day, what would you want it to be?

Feel free to answer these ones as well, but I reserve the right to make fun of you.

Step right up!

2008-07-13T21:10:00.005-06:00

Sometimes your dreams and ambitions are like balloons that you release into the sky and the hope in your heart can't help but spill over into a hopeful expression on your face (thanks to Wendy and Melanie for the forced looks of hopefulness.)

Sometimes those dreams and ambitions encounter obstacles that, at the time of releasing, weren't considered obstacles. Like a big fat giant pine tree far away from where you released your ambition and dream balloons.

And sometimes your carefully planned hopes and dreams get stuck in the unforseen obstacle, never to escape, and all the hope in your heart and on your face (real or pretended) was all for not.

The end. Now didn't that inspire you? Let's hope it's not an omen for Wendy's upcoming marriage... a shower for which warranted the occasion for the life metaphor. (What?) Thanks to Heather for the shower concept (carnival themed) and thanks to Wendy for the excuse. Congrats!

Speaking of freak shows, notwithstanding the cuteness of this picture of Katey Teece and I, I'm starting to notice that my facial features are disproportionately large. Like someone photoshopped my face onto a head that was too small.

Maybe I should be a carny for REAL. Sadly, I'd probably make more than I do now...

Come sail away

2008-07-06T11:21:00.005-06:00

Sometime around February my friend Jason called and asked if I had plans for the 4th of July. Being someone who only plans their life a week or so at a time, of course I didn't. So he excitedly told me that Styx would be performing in Logan on the 4th of July, and he wanted me to come.

Now, while some other people's parents raised them listening to bands like Styx, Poison, Journey, REO Speedwagon and the like, my parents were busy raising me on James Taylor, John Denver, and the Carpenters. My mom was raised in Soda Springs, Idaho and my dad was a choir geek, so frankly I didn't have a chance. But, notwithstanding my big hair band ignorance, I told him to get me a ticket.

Jason requested that we dress up for the affair. I forgot that request until I got to Logan and found Jason in cut-off black jeans and a hideous tie-dyed shirt, with his hair all skewampus and lines etched into the side of his head. I felt bad that he was so committed and I had come unprepared, so I borrowed a bandana and pulled my hair down in messy braids. This is us, giving our best white trash expressions (I don't know what that means either.)

It also happened to be the weekend of the annual Cruise In, so between the car show crowd and the Styx fans there was a colorful group of people to behold. Right in front of us there sat two women; one, a woman who had come by herself to relive her glory days and couldn't stop moving to the music, the other, a silent Japanese woman who looked like she had gotten lost and stumbled upon the concert. The first woman (who I found out later is named Stacey) kept turning to the Japanese lady and talking to her excitedly about the concert, and the Japanese woman just kind of looked at her bewildered. It was making me laugh, so I took a picture of them the best I could without being hauled off by concert security (cameras being prohibited as they were.)
The concert was extremely entertaining... Those Styx characters put on a very fun show. Only a couple of the songs sounded even familiar to me, but it didn't matter. The keyboard-playing one was especially animated, and at one point he broke out into something completely different. Here's a little bit of what he was playing; I regret I didn't record it all but because I was doing it sneakily I had to cut it off early.

Hope you all were able to celebrate your freedoms this weekend in equally amusing ways.

Oodelolly

2008-06-29T07:29:00.004-06:00

I'm far busier than I prefer to be these days.

Busy-ness makes some people feel important. It makes this person feel grumpy.

So, to relax every now and then I'll pick up my guitar and work on a song or two. I only have a fistful of songs that I feel I've mastered, and a bazillion that I'm slowly working on. My goal is to someday be one of those people who can sit around a campfire and rattle off songs at people's request. Yes, it must be near a campfire for some reason.

Notwithstanding my current projects (including the song from Robin Hood, which now clears up the title of this post and brings you full circle), I'm always looking for suggestions of songs that are fun to play on the guitar and not ridiculously hard. So I throw the question out to you, gentle readers... any suggestions?

On a previous episode...

2008-06-22T19:15:00.002-06:00

I wasn't ever officially tagged to do this, but it looked interesting... It's The Year Tag. (Thanks, Robin!)

20 years ago. I was finishing kindergarten. According to my mom my kindergarten teacher praised her one day for being so diligent in teaching me how to read. My mom shrugged and said, "she taught herself." And thus began the overindependence of Haley.

The only other memory I have of kindergarten is racing my friend Maria to the door when the bell rang, and as we got to the door she hit her head on the brick and cut her head open. Without a moment's thought I banged on the door frantically until someone came to help her. She came back to school the next day with five stitches in her head. I think that might have been the day I convinced myself I was a superhero for saving her life... even though, technically, the race had been my idea to begin with.

10 years ago. I was working at the Magna Pool as a cashier. It was a pretty monotonous summer, but it beat the heck out of serving hamburgers and hot dogs at company parties at Lagoon, which is what I was doing the previous summer. I've had some kind of job at least part of the year since I was fifteen. Thanks to dad for that killer work ethic.

5 years ago. I was in Chandler, AZ for the fourth month of my mission. I had just been put in charge of the area and given a companion who had only been out as long as I had, who had a hard time working and with whom I struggled to get along. I hadn't been trained very well, I constantly felt that I wasn't doing things well enough, and I felt powerless to do anything about it. My district leader (who was a good friend of mine) had been sent home with a brain tumor and I was worried about him. (He passed away that October.) I was on a bike, and the desert breeze that time of the year had all the comfort of a hot blow dryer to the face. Overall it was about the lowest point of my mission... and it was when I learned, for all my independence, how dependent upon the Heavens I really needed to be.

3 years ago. I was about to get the dumbest job I've ever had - at a used mattress store. I had spent the first half of the summer looking desperately for something that would take me for the summertime, and out of desperation that's the job I took. I can't tell you how many days I worked there without a single customer even entering the store. I think it's because most people correctly recognize that buying a mattress second-hand is kinda gross. That job would later inspire me to write a poem called Working for a Man Named Curly.

1 year ago. I had graduated with my degree and was learning the hard way that it was pretty useless. I spent May and the first half of June looking desperately for a job that would allow me to stay in Logan (land that I love), but around this time had given up and moved home to Salt Lake to continue to job hunt. It would be another depressing month and a half before I'd find the job I just quit.

So far this year. I quit the job that was making me grumpy, found a new one that makes me happy, and done a lot of strange and fun things in between. For instance, we were so certain that game 6 would be the end of the NBA finals that we watched the game and threw a funeral for the Lakers. Potatoes and everything. It was fantastic.

Yesterday. I woke up in a sleeping bag to a rooster crowing at about 5am in Manti, UT. Got home from Manti at about 11am, unpacked a bit, showered, went to see Get Smart with my mom, and took an hour nap before going to dinner and the Bees game with a friend. It was a full day. A fun, full day.

Today. I sang a solo in my mom's ward (and didn't know my knees could shake so badly.) I hustled out of there to get to Ward Council, where I represented both the Relief Society (having been made RSP last week) AND the Activities Committee (having not been released quite yet from my Activities Chair calling.) After church I ate the usual Sunday dinner with the family and the gang, and then came home to catch up on blogging.

Tomorrow. I need to make some phone calls at work, and get some clarification on a few other projects before my boss leaves town for the rest of the week. I might just get to go on an outreach appointment to visit some senior food box recipients too, which I look forward to. Tomorrow night will be FHE, then I'll train the girl taking my Activities calling, then I'll hopefully have time to go running.

The rest of this year. I'm hoping to make my life more routine and make some necessary things a habit rather than an afterthought. I want to look into MPA programs around the area to see if Nonprofit Management is something I could dig.

Sorry it's been so long between entries. It's been a busy couple of weeks.

Uncanny...

2008-06-06T20:08:00.003-06:00

... isn't it?
(Photograph taken several months ago at a Relief Society function while chopping apples for the refreshment. I only recently recovered the picture from my roommate.)

First Day

2008-06-01T22:55:00.003-06:00

Once upon a time I worked in a magical land called Oakcrest. I say magical because that summer I became a person I had never been before: giggly, silly, and heaven forbid, emotional. [Enter comment about how you've always known me to be one or all three of these things here.] Though I wasn't awesome at pretending to love thirteen year old girls, I learned a ton about myself and had a blast spending the whole summer outside. And, I worked alongside some of the most wonderful girls to ever grace this earth. One of which is camp-named Talula, and it is she whom I thank today.

Talula introduced me to a holiday she invented on June 1st. I don't know that she has a name for it, but today I've decided to call it simply "First Day". Each June 1st she tries to do something she's never done before. Three years ago I adopted this holiday for my own, and have observed it ever since.

First Days of yore:

June 1st, 2006: Antelope Island. I had never been. I found it to be a place full of brine shrimp flies and sagebrush... but also discovered it was an excellent place to take pictures of the sunset.

June 2nd, 2007: Attempted walk from Logan to the Idaho border. Observed on the 2nd because the adventure required a Saturday, not a Friday. I say "attempted" because 6 miles short of our goal my foot malfunctioned, and we found it very difficult to get up from our short rest in Richmond. We called for our ride to rescue us from there. But, definitely a first for me.

And today, June 1st, 2008: Ensign Peak.

June 1st being a Sunday I was somewhat limited as to what I could do, and decided a simple local hike would suffice. I'd never been to Ensign Peak before today, and I found the hike to be the perfect way to spend a Sunday evening (though it was quite windy.)

It's strange because you could really do something new every single day of your life, but for some reason it's fun to pick a specific day and plan something specific for it. Things I'd like to do on future First Days include hot air ballooning, seeing Craters of the Moon, and running a 5k. Feel free to adopt this holiday for yourself. What kinds of things would you do?

"You call him Dr. Jones, doll."

2008-05-23T16:47:00.003-06:00

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.

2008-05-18T23:37:00.003-06:00

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

2008-05-11T19:39:00.004-06:00

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

2008-05-04T09:39:00.004-06:00

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.

Slippery slope

2008-04-27T09:23:00.002-06:00

What's the difference between being happily unemployed and being unhappily unemployed?

...A couple of weeks.

Last summer I spent three months after graduation looking for the "perfect job" before I found the less-than-perfect job which I quit a month ago. During that three months I slowly sank into a fairly deep depression (fairly deep for me anyway... I'm not easily depressed, so I take even the slightest bit of the stuff pretty hard). I didn't realize that's what was happening at the time, but in retrospect I can see how I became less and less motivated to do even the things that I like to do regardless of my employment status.

Now that I recognize what happened, I'm doing my best to keep an eye out for myself while I struggle in my current job search. I even let my pride down long enough for me to admit to myself that while I feel like I should want to work in social services because that's what my degree is in and any good person would want to be doing good during their 8 hours a day, the truth is that there are very few social services jobs that even interest me in the slightest. The good part of this admission is that I'm more likely to find a job that I WILL enjoy. The bad part of this is that I'm more likely to start whatever I decide to do at a less-than-desirable wage.

The problem with being so darn well-rounded is that I have to decide for myself what interests me, and that fluctuates from day to day. The day I gave blood I suddenly wanted to be a phlebotomist. I watched a special on harvesting equipment and suddenly wanted to be a gardener or farmer.

And daily, from 4pm-5pm, I want to be a Ninja Warrior.

So I'll let you know where I end up. In the meantime I think I'm going to find some temp work to keep a little money coming in.

It was a temperate and overcast afternoon...

2008-04-20T16:46:00.005-06:00

A man named Neron Volt was found dead...

and a number of suspects roamed his homestead.

My murder mystery went swimmingly. All the characters showed, everyone put on a good show, and it was all very well received by those in my mom's ward who participated. By name special thanks to Casey Wayman, Cristi Yates, Gina Johnson, Steve Porter, Ryan White, Chalese Craig, and Eric Barney for helping!

What I REALLY do on Friday nights...

2008-04-17T16:51:00.002-06:00

...well, this Friday night anyway. More pictures to come.

4:50am

2008-04-12T04:52:00.002-06:00

Last time I was up during unholy hours of the day with an upset stomach I blogged, so I thought I'd do it again.

I spent the day in Logan on Thursday, and boy do I miss it. It's like reopening a wound in my heart everytime I go back. I stopped in to talk to one of my favorite professors who is kind of like my own personal Magic 8 Ball - anytime I start to flounder I shoot him an email or talk to him ("shake" him) and he'll give me his honest thoughts on the topic, whether it be about going back to school, career direction, or personal life advice ("reply hazy, try again"). It was fun to see him.

I'm spending my unemployed days helping my mom with a murder mystery she's setting up for her ward (she's the activities chief). I've rounded up some people to play the parts and spend my days gathering props and costume items. I'm now the proud owner of a head-to-toe red sequined dress which I will wear playing the role of Lera Luscious, the hottest singing act at the Purple Petunia. You can look forward to pictures from that in about a week.

My sprite is gone and I'm feeling better, so I'm going back to bed in the hopes to wake up in two hours and go to the gym.

I AM an American Gladiator...

2008-04-05T23:05:00.005-06:00

...or, I felt like one for a minute. My friend McWayne was kind enough to invite me to take a stab at his inflatable human hamster ball thing, and in an instant I imagined myself weaving in and out of muscled people dressed in patriotic spandex playing Atlasphere. Here's a little taste:

I have another funny video of me jumping in the ball on the trampoline but I can't figure out how to rotate the video so that it'll be right side up. Anyone have any insight on that? If so, I'll post it. Until then, here's me peeking out of one of the entrance holes.

And McWayne, the one to thank for the fun between-conference-sessions activity.
Speaking of using my muscles, my roommate Jenny and I helped do some demolition on a house that our bishop is renovating. I won't lie... it's fun to destroy things with a pitchfork.

Still job hunting. I'll update you when I have more on that.

The Haleylphabet

2008-03-29T15:03:00.003-06:00

I can just picture each of you trying to pronounce the word I just made up in the title... and it makes me laugh.

Robin tagged me and I'm glad. Here's me, from A to Z.

A - Attached or single? Too attached to too many singles to be attached.
B - Best friend? None. Or many.
C - Cake or pie? Pie. Razzleberry pie from Marie Calendars to be specific.
D - Day of choice? Saturday I guess.
E - Essential item? Paul Mitchell Super Skinny Serum for my hair. For such a low-maintenance personality I sure do have a high-maintenance head.
F - Favorite color? Most any blue.
G - Gummy bears or worms? Worms. If I suck on them carefully enough I can make them skinny enough to tie in a knot using only my tongue. If there are gummy worms in the vicinity and I'm making grotesque faces at you, that's probably what's going on.
H - Hometown? The Rose Park area of Salt Lake for the first 13 years of my life, then West Valley for the rest. I know my way around the humble parts of the valley.
I - Indulgences? Cheese fries. So good, but so bad.
J - January or July? July, but that's a tough one because I hate the dead of winter only slightly more than I hate the heat of summer.
K - Kids? After studying them in school and working with them at work, I'm excited to have my own to mess with.
L - Life isn't complete without? Humor. I laugh a lot more than I probably should.
M - Marriage date? We'll see.
N - Number of brothers and sisters? An older brother and a younger brother. I'm the middle child AND the only girl, which explains a couple of my complexes.
O - Oranges or apples? Oranges. My love for citrus is due to serving a mission in AZ where the orange, lemon, and grapefruit trees abound.
P - Phobias or fears? Disappointing and/or inconveniencing people, making phone calls, and bees.
Q - Quote? "Oh if life were made of moments, even now and then a bad one! But if life were only moments, then you'd never know you've had one." - Baker's Wife, Into the Woods (by lyrical genius Stephen Sondheim).
R - Reason to smile? I no longer work for someone I don't respect.
S - Season of choice? Fall.
T - Tag six: Whoever thinks this is fun. Six of you.
U - Unknown fact about me? If it were socially acceptable for white girls to rap, I think I would like to try.
V - Vegetable? Sugar snap peas, especially in a stir fry.
W - Worst habit? Letting people take advantage of me.
X - X-ray or ultrasound? I don't even understand why this is a choice I'd have to make. That tells you how much I know about medicine.
Y - Your favorite food? Shredded chicken salad from Costa Vida.
Z - Zodiac sign? Sagittarius. Freedom-loving, jovial, restless, honest to a fault.

Rewind

2008-03-26T13:33:00.009-06:00

Four days ago...

I was on my way home from California by way of Paris (The Paris).

Six days ago...

I saw the worst casino ever on my way to California.

Almost two weeks ago...

My house was full of people getting "jiggy" wit' it.

The day before that...

I made good use of every inch of my parents' second fridge.

My road trip was wonderfully relaxing. I'm now at home using my unemployment time to get other things done that have been waiting their turn for months. It's been nice for the last couple of days, but I'm sure it'll get old soon. I have a good lead on a job with United Way (thanks, Bonny!) so we'll see if that pans out.

A vacation from my PROBLEMS!

2008-03-19T21:25:00.007-06:00

I hope you've seen What About Bob? If you haven't, I suggest you stop reading this entry and go watch it this instant.

I'm blogging from a comfortable hotel bed in St. George on my way to California for a few days. After the long wet winter I'm looking forward to the sun and the warmth.

I survived the balloon-making event, thanks to a balloon-making friend more talented than I. She was only stumped when a kid requested a dragon. But, she did manage to whip up an octopus on command. Pretty impressive. And though I tried to bid farewell to my job and my boss, thanks to her irresponsible ways they still haven't hired someone to replace me yet. So I'll be back in to finish some things and train the poor person who replaces me.

I have some funny pictures that I'll post later. I just thought I'd let you know I survived the week.

Look out, Ringling Brothers

2008-03-08T23:03:00.005-07:00

I submit for your consideration: The Bunny Hat.

This week proves to be one of the more stressful of my adult life as I finalize preparations for the Easter Egg Hunt that the agency I work for is holding for the families we service. The Hunt involves games, eggs, candy, face painting, and, incidentally, balloon animals. Because the task of organizing the event fell to me and I didn't have anyone solidly committed to make balloon animals for the event, I decided to buy some balloons and learn the, uh, craft for myself.

Thanks to some help I spent about an hour this afternoon practicing some simple creations that I can crank out fairly quickly to small children this Saturday. However, I seem to have an unfortunate inability to judge how much balloon I need to use, and consequently my animals all have a tendency to have a disproportionately large tail.

After some frustration I abandoned trying to create the back half of any animal at all, and wa-law, the Bunny Hat was born. There is one problem upon trying to remove the hat...

Wish me luck this week! And if any of you happen to have any connections to large amounts of breakfast pastries for no cost, please let me know.

Don't cry, little Emo child...

2008-03-03T22:06:00.003-07:00

I was rifling through some old stuff tonight and found a book of poems I used to write in Jr. High. Here's an example:

If I'm to make any sense of it all

but then, we're all senseless every now and then

you're as entitled to yours as I am to mine

and when brought to the bar I've got nothing to say

other than "it's been one of those days."

When I remove myself from myself

and look objectively

I don't know that I see what you do

this bias is hard to ignore

I know I don't mean to alarm

and I don't intend any harm

when I do what I do how I do.

How much do you see?

Are the things I try desperately to show

getting through my calloused skin?

And how much of what I try to bury

refuses to be hid?

And do you love me anyway?

Because I see you - I think I do

and I see a little bit of both the hide and the show

and I know which is which

and love you despite

and love you because.

Alarmed? Don't be. My life wasn't nearly as dramatic as I liked to make it sound. I wrote as if I had troubles, mostly because it was cool to be troubled in Jr. High. Or at least, I think it was cool. I've blocked most of it from my memory. Who did I love, despite and because? Probably no one... It just sounded fun to be brooding over someone.

But in the event that the ability to create original music ever finds me, you can bet your sweet bippy I'll come out with a Fiona Apple-esque album simply titled Fourteen.

Coming up for air

2008-02-27T21:50:00.002-07:00

Hey readers... sorry I've been slacking on the posting. Here's a quick summary, and I hope to have more detailed and entertaining things to say again soon:

- Wrapping up loose ends at my job and it's making me grumpy.
- New job options are opening and look promising.
- New church calling is more time-consuming than I'd prefer.
- Can check "speed dating" off my list of things to do in my lifetime.
- Hair is now less dramatic and more like me (apologies, my hair dresser... I promise, it's nothing personal).

Since I've failed to provide you anything original to laugh at this time around, try this out for size until I can get back to you.

Harry Carey?

2008-02-17T19:11:00.005-07:00

Can you believe I've lived my whole Mormon life without having ever seen Saturday's Warrior until tonight? My verdict: I could have gone a couple more lifetimes without it. The part that I found the most ridiculous (I know, it's hard to pick a favorite) is that of all the things that Jimmy's friends could be using their influence to pressure him about, they've chosen world overpopulation. I certainly know it was a hot topic at my school, so much that alongside the D.A.R.E. and G.R.E.A.T. programs (if you've never heard of the latter, it's because you didn't grow up in Rose Park), there was S.N.O.O.T.: Say No to Opinions about Obscure Topics. Sheesh.

Neither here nor there. First, bowling. I'm bad at it, but was convinced to go last night. Here are some pics. I think of our two games I topped out at near 80.

Second, I spent two and a half hours at a salon yesterday morning having this done to my hair:

Love the cut, don't love the color. I know it doesn't look bad, it just looks unnatural on me. For some reason such obvious and unnatural-looking highlights imply a certain amount of high-maintainance-ness to my personality, which I don't appreciate. Consequently, I will be doing something to remedy the blonde tomorrow. Here's hoping it turns out okay; I'll let you know how it goes.

My Sweet Baboo

2008-02-13T22:00:00.005-07:00

Happy Valentines Day. Here's some cookies I made for a service project last night:

Also here's the valentine I'll be giving my co-workers tomorrow. I won't claim it as my original idea; in fact, I stole it from some girls on my mission. But I love the fact that you can slap the band-aid on yourself anywhere and be wearing a valentine all day long!

I know it's the cool thing to hate Valentine's Day if you're single, but I don't really anymore. People are in love, that's great. In truth, it's probably the ONLY day of the year that when I see public displays of affection that I don't want to punch people in the neck.

Rear view.

2008-02-11T21:03:00.000-07:00

In my continual picking apart of my own brain I made a new discovery recently. The reason I have a tendency to instigate change in my own life is that the change will be under my own control, on my own time. In the meantime I hope that I'm instigating enough change in my own life that the Heavens will not see it necessary to inflict any unexpected change on me. I don't really like to be caught off guard. Who does, really? Anyway, consequently I'm always keeping an eye out for change that might ambush me, which also probably explains why I overanalyze most anything. And so the blog entry thus far has come full circle.

Lucky for you, that's the only deep thinking I have for you tonight. The rest will be pictures of recent activities...

First, a couple of snowmen my roommate Jenny and I made after shoveling one Sunday afternoon. In the process of making them we really didn't have an agenda, but the final product could be interpreted many ways. Especially if you correctly identify the snowman on the left to actually be a snow-woman, and not a snowman with a rockin' '80's mullet.

On Thursday my roommates and I hosted a Chinese New Year gathering. Two or so years ago I realized mid-day that it was Chinese New Year, and decided at the last minute to go get a Panda Express meal in honor of the day. Later on that evening I also just happened to have rented the movie Serenity, which has some subtle Chinese elements to it, and chuckled at the coincidence. Well, last year I did the same exact thing on purpose, and this year the tradition has followed suit. However, this year I invited quite a few more people to partake in my tradition. It was truly a testament to the fact that all people really need is a place and a time, and they'll gather for the most absurd of reasons. But then again, I didn't get this fortune in my cooking for nothin'...

Lastly, today I picked up bleach trays for my teeth. I had no idea they were going to give me a whole mold of my mouth, and though for most of the day they've freaked me out, the following has made me laugh instead of cringe every time I see them.

Job hunt continues, as does my countdown until I can leave my current one.

"It's my bar of chocolate, give it to me now!"

2008-01-31T21:13:00.000-07:00

Hi. This is me blogging.

Yes, it's true, I'm leaving my job. I decided that I couldn't very well give other people my "if you're not happy with your circumstances then change them" speech unless I was willing to put it into practice myself. My last day will be March 15 (beware the ides!), and in the meantime I'm looking for another job. Preferably somewhere that won't stick me in a windowless office all by myself with a boss with whom I don't communicate well. In the last 6 months of working there I feel like I've become a far more anxious and grumpy person, and I don't like it at all. Kind of what Gollum is to Smeagol, but with more hair, less phlegm, and better posture.

My job must be making me pretty unhappy to drive me to the point of facing unemployment again, because truly there is nothing in this world that I loathe more than job hunting. Believe it or not, the job boards aren't teeming with social services jobs that aren't soul-sucking that will pay you a decent amount of money. Your soul must either be sucked or your pocket emptied. I consistently find myself searching for jobs that don't exist, refusing to bend to the reality that fun jobs aren't well-paid, because the fun you have each day is part of your wages. You can't fill your car with gas on fun. I tried once... whooping and hollering and yee-hawing while pumping the gas, and the dirty bugger still wanted $45 bucks from me when I was done.

So sometimes I'll catch myself yelling at the universe to change its rules, rather than just buck up and play by them. Like I've gotten to the checkout stand with an item I really want, and I insist that the cashier give it to me for less money than its worth, which they obviously can't do (unless you're in Mexico... but I never am, even in my metaphors). Rather than pony up the dough, I stand there and complain about the injustice of the justice. And the people behind me are rolling their eyes impatiently as I whine. I don't know what they represent... maybe all the things that are waiting to happen in my life if I'd just shut up and pay the price.

I'm concerned for our generation and its hesitancy to sacrifice. So many things provide us immediate gratification that anything that makes us wait even the littlest bit is pushed to the side. And I feel preemptively guilty for my future children who are going to be the uncool ones because they won't have a cell phone until they can afford to pay for it themselves. (A note: This is completely hypocritical of me to do because as we speak my father still pays for my cell phone bill, but that's different. Okay, it's not. Get off my case, okay? I have a lot of other things to worry about than the potential emotional and psychological damage that I could to do my imaginary children... because at this rate I should be more worried about what kind of reptiles I can legally house as I grow old single and alone and become the Crazy Snake Lady who gives awesome treats at Halloween.)

I fear I've strayed from my original point. Oh well, time for bed.

I once was blind, but now I see.

2008-01-22T20:46:00.001-07:00

I bought a new camera on Monday. When I woke up to see the massive snowstorm that had hit overnight, I almost decided to wait another day. But then I thought that maybe it was the universe conspiring against my desires for a camera, and, being one who likes to defy the universe, I hopped in my car at 9am and made the treacherous trip to Best Buy nonetheless.

I didn't investigate cameras too much before I went, mostly because I know at this point in my life I mostly don't care. I just want something that will allow me to record amusing moments because my brain is bound to lose them at this rate. So after consulting with the friendly salesman, I bought this guy:

He's the Sony Cybershot DSC W80. If that doesn't mean anything to you, then join the club. All I know is it can take both pictures and video, and has a rapid-fire picture-taking option for when I'm trying to take a shot of someone flying through the air or something (which happens more often than you think.) The salesman told me it was the cheaper of the two he suggested, and this one had a turny-wheely-thing to select my settings rather than having to fish through a bunch of push-button options on the camera screen (like the other one), so I was sold. I was so excited that the moment I got into my car I opened the package, stuck the battery and memory card into the camera, and took this picture:

My beloved Best Buy, with my new car B.J. I'm inheriting B.J. (along with her payments) from my little brother, who is leaving on a mission in a couple weeks. B.J. stands for Billie Jean, because that song came on my iPod while driving it for one of the first times and it just seemed right.

So now that I "got my camera on" as my friend Logan would say, I'm pleased to present to you Spider-man and Friends:

A few years ago I purchased some coloring books for my roommates for Christmas, and this is the one I bought for Wendy because, well, she likes Spiderman. Little did I know that in this coloring book, not only are Spiderman and his friends about seven years old, but they're doing the most effemenite and least-superhero-like things imaginable. I submit for your enjoyment the silliest coloring book ever, complete with my own MST3K-esque commentary:

Hulk heard the sirens outside and scrambled to find somewhere to hide the stash.

This is pretty much what every single picture taken of a mother right after giving birth looks like.

Captain America visits Lifetouch studios to take pictures to give all his friends at high school.

That puddle underneath him is awfully suspicious. I've never been THAT excited to fly a kite...

"I challenge you to a duel, you sexy, sexy man..."

Ten bucks says he's playing Return to Pooh Corner.

Either he's very thoughtful or there's something terribly wrong with that banana.

After her father's tragic death and the burn accident that left her masked for life, Bindi Irwin decided to stalk animals that didn't have razor sharp teeth.

Stick a needle in my eye

2008-01-19T16:32:00.000-07:00

I vow to purchase a camera this week. I have a coloring book that I absolutely MUST show the public. Words cannot describe, so I won't even try.

But here are a few other seemingly random things I have learned in the last week or so:

I am not an alto, according to my voice teacher. It broke my heart. Do I still think I'm Karen Carpenter? Yes... she had an amazing range but just chose to sing low most of the time (her direct quote: "The basement is where the money is.") Will I still be singing alto in any given choir? You betcha. After all, an alto is just a soprano who can sightread... (sorry, couldn't help it.)

If you don't like attention, don't quit a job at which you're well liked.

Eating a Cafe Rio salad after fasting all day may sound like a good idea, but it isn't.

Utes gymnastics is INSANELY popular. I'm talking like ten thousand people at their meet on Friday. I don't care how awesome they are at what they do, it's gymnastics. I had no idea it had such crowd appeal.

The movie 27 Dresses is a very silly chick flick. No surprises. If you go, you'll get exactly what you expect from that kind of movie.

The movie Cloverfield is a very intense monster movie. Look out, it doesn't end well. And whatever you do, don't let the creature's little spawn things bite you...

That's it for now. Hopefully the next post will be full of visuals...

An ode.

2008-01-12T23:32:00.000-07:00

Farewell, my friend.

So many memories we've shared now seem even more vivid with your passing.

We once sat around the campfire, and I protected you from falling embers as we both soaked in the radiating warmth.

And a time when we cleaned the bathroom together, me accidentally squirting a bit of bleach on you. I laughed. You didn't. It's better that you didn't.

The many hikes we've shared: to caves, to lakes, to school.

But as is often the case, I began to take you for granted. The more fun I was having, the more damage I was doing, the more you were fading.

Oh, if I had but known!

In retrospect, if I had just paused to see how worn you had become, I would have changed things. Mended things. Cherished things.

But you are beyond repair now, my favorite pair of jeans.

I lunged one too many lunges into a tall car, and now you are gone.

You must be replaced, but it will just not be the same.

Never again will I find such trust and love for only $14.99.

I got rhythm, I got music

2008-01-10T17:48:00.000-07:00

I've done some thinking.

My good and talented friend Robin has a blog that I can't seem to go a day without checking. Even some of my friends who aren't acquainted with Robin in person have admitted to me that they blog-stalk her on occasion (don't worry, I won't tell on you.)

So why is Robin's blog so cool and fun to read? Well, other than the fact that she's a cool and fun person? Her entries are short, to the point, and frequent. Well, and they have cool pictures. Mine, well... you have to be a devoted friend to want to read the novels I post on a once-a-week-at-best basis (thank you, devoted friends.) The pictures thing I can't help at the moment, but soon, oh so soon...

My new goal: blog small, blog often. And no, Robin did not pay me to write this ode to her blog. I promise, she doesn't need the advertising.

Speaking of songbirds, I started voice lessons this week. It's amazing how different you sound when standing in front of an intimidating voice teacher compared to how you sound in your car on the way to work. But my teacher is very warm and easy to like, so I don't think I'll be afraid for long.

The picture at the top has nothing to do with this post. I've had to result to old pictures to spice things up around here a bit. Believe it or not, I used to dance. And, it may explain why I hated the color pink until I was 23.

The adventures of Haleynook of the North

2008-01-05T21:01:00.000-07:00

A log of my workdays as of late:

Dec 20th - Near the end of the day a power outage follows an exploding sound at work. Power comes back on right before everyone goes home.
Dec 21st - Arrive at work to find no heat. Temperature: 55 degrees. Survival methods include space heaters and blankets. Sent home at noon due to cold.
Dec 27th (after the break) - Temperature at work now only 40 degrees. Not only is heat not working, but freezing air has been blowing during the break. VERY tempted to unwrap the blanket that is in the back of my car intended to be a gift, but resist temptation. Heating unit replaced, sent home at noon with guarantee of heat tomorrow.
Dec 28th - No heat, but no freezing air. Diagnosis is now a broken circuit, can only be replaced by turning off power to the whole building, which can't be done until the weekend. Sent home at noon again.
Dec 31st - No heat, but a bearable 60 degrees. Maybe my skin is just getting thicker. Still, sent home at noon instead of 3 as scheduled.
Jan 2nd - No heat. Able to create a cocoon of warmth in my office by cranking the space heater, wrapping up in blanket, and keeping the door closed. Manage to stay at work a full 8 hours for the first time in a long time.
Jan 3rd - No heat, AND a high speed chase ended with a car taking out the fire hydrant in front of our building, so no bathroom for an hour or so in the morning. Director of the agency sends everyone to Chili's for lunch to thaw out, and everyone sent home at 4 instead of 5 so they can get accurate readings of the temperature in the building. At the end of the day they have replaced every imaginable part to the heating unit and still can't figure out what is wrong.
Jan 4th - Boss calls to instruct me to "work from home" today, because heat won't be on at all. Spend the day doing pretty much what I would've done in the office - puppy-guarding the email inbox and answering business-related emails.

...Who knows what Monday will bring?

Speaking of cold, I went snowshoeing with some friends today. Because of the short hours of daylight in the winter I rarely see the light of day these days now that I work full-time (my office has no window), so it felt terriffic to be outside and active and communing with nature. And by communing with nature I mean interrupting the nap of a baby moose because it chose to sleep right in our pathway, and being very fortunate that Mom moose didn't come tearing through the woods to eat us. I wanted to take pictures of these events, but alas...

But good news! My new year's eve celebration consisted of an evening full of gambling with fake money at my cousins' house, which also included a Texas Hold-em tournament. I was hesitant to play because among the 12 other players in the tournament there were 5 or 6 seasoned veterans of the game and I had only ever watched it played. However, after about two and a half hours of intense poker playing later, my ace and king beat my cousin's ace and queen and I won the entire tournament. My adult male cousins pretended to be gracious about it, but I could tell they were a bit put out because they had been talking up their mad poker skills all night.

My prize (which I didn't know existed until about 5 minutes before I won the whole thing) was a $50 gift certificate to Best Buy, which I've decided will go toward the purchasing of a new camera when I get a little more money saved up. Visuals will return to my blog that much sooner, thanks to some lucky hands, a few smart plays, and sad hours of watching Celebrity Poker Showdown while I was unemployed this summer.

A haypenny will, in fact, do.

2007-12-28T11:22:00.000-07:00

Hope everyone's holidays were happy. Mine were just fine. The gift I gave that seemed to be the most well-received was in actually the least expensive thing I gave. Thanks to a series of generous people, I ended up getting about a dozen round cone-shaped windshield scrapers at no cost to give as gifts. Mine has proven to be at least twice as effective as a regular one as far as surface area being scraped, and many who have received one from me agree. My little brother was so excited to try it that he went out to scrape his car right after we had opened gifts. It just tells you how little inexpensive but useful gifts can be big hits with your loved ones. Nothing says "I love you" like a cleaned windshield in less time.

The gift I'm the most excited about receiving is the voice lessons I'll be taking in the coming weeks. I decided it might help me gain the confidence I need to audition for community theater and feel like I might even have a small chance of getting in. More specifically, the Hale Center theater is doing Into the Woods in October, and their auditions are this summer. I've always wanted to be a part of this show, and in this case would love to be Little Red Riding Hood, so that's what I'm shooting for. I know it's pretty unlikely with all the other much more talented and experienced people out there, but it would be a good experience just to at least try.

I've been tagged by Jenny to write 6 facts or habits about me, and I've done this before, but since I'm just so blasted full of quirks, I thought I'd do it again. Enjoy!

1) Speaking of Christmas, I never consciously remember believing in Santa Claus. Never. This might have to do with the fact that Santa always suspiciously had the same handwriting as my mother, that he used the same wrapping paper as my mother, and that our chimney was never ever used. So he comes in using magic? Riiiiiight. Then when I was about nine I remember getting up to get a drink and catching my mom filling my stocking, and I wasn't surprised in the least. But this being said, I was completely and totally sold on the Easter Bunny. Go figure.

2) When I was younger I lived in the Airport Hilton for a time (the one you drive past as you're headed west on I-80 with the giant pond in the back.) My father was the manager at the time, and while some housing things were being figured out we lived in a suite on the top floor. I was pretty young so I don't remember much, but I do hear many stories about my brother who is 3 years older than me causing all kinds of trouble while living there, including jamming the elevators and riding his bike into the pond. I wish I had been older so I could remember more.

3) My nostrils sometimes flare when I'm singing. I can see them out of my bottom periphery vision, and I think I've caught on to a pattern... It's only when i'm descending in pitch, and it's only between certain notes. Usually when I'm going anywhere from a high C down to around an E. I notice this especially when I'm singing the alto line to Angels We Have Heard on High. I hope you all now understand why I can never sing in front of any of you ever again.

4) I have a condition called Geographic Tongue. It isn't severe by any means, but every now and then you can see patches on my tongue where the little papillae are gone. It's especially evident when I'm sick. I didn't know it was a condition until I was about 18 and the first thing my new dentist said when I opened my mouth was, "Oh, you have geographic tongue." Until then, I just thought I had strange shapes on my tongue that would come and go mysteriously, like little tongue crop circles. I hope you now understand why I can never stick my tongue out in front of any of you ever again.

5) I love the Super Nintendo, and can't seem to move on past it to the more advanced gaming systems available. In fact, I received two new Super Nintendo controllers and an expansion adapter for my system for Christmas, so I can play Bomberman with four people at a time. Too bad no one living with me these days has much of an attention span to play it with me.

6) I've never been in an accident (though I came the closest I've ever been to being in one today.) On a related note, I received my first speeding ticket EVER about two months ago. I totally deserved it. In fact, I've been deserving them for years, so it's about time the law caught up with me.

There you go. If anyone who reads this blog feels inspired to do the same and hasn't for awhile, do it! It's kind of fun to thing about obscure facts about yourself.

...Still minus a camera, by the way.

Bah.

2007-12-23T21:05:00.000-07:00

I came home on Wednesday to find one roommate frantically talking to her mother on the phone, and the other one in the basement rustling around. I raised an eyebrow at the one on the phone and she pulled her phone away from her mouth long enough to say, "our house got broken into while we all were at work."

My first thought was my laptop, not because of how much it was worth but because of all the pictures and writing projects I have saved on it. I ran around the corner into my room to find it looking surprisingly a lot like I left it. My drawers were a little more pulled out and askew than usual, a handful of clothes were strewn around the room, my desk covered with miscellaneous items, and thankfully, my laptop sitting undisturbed where I left it that morning. I breathed a sigh of relief. The relief actually kept me pretty numb to panic when I discovered that my digital camera was NOT where I left it. The thought I had when I noticed that was, "but at least my laptop is still here."

The thief (thieves?) actually didn't take much at all, but what they did take was unsettling. They took the hundred dollar bill my roommate had sitting on her dresser, two cameras, and keys. Jenny had a giant keyring taken that had all the keys to about everything that requires a key on the property (including tractors, cars, barns, etc.) and my roommate Cristi had her spare car key stolen. Why did they leave multiple laptops, expensive electronic equipment, pricey guitars, iPods, and other expensive things and just take keys? Because they were planning on returning for other things, was the only thing we could deduce.

So the doors with windows got borded up (which is how they got in in the first place... broke a window in a door and just reached around to unlock it), and Jenny and I spent a restless night sleeping in the living room and waking at the slightest sounds throughout the night. Our house got re-keyed the next morning, and for now anytime Cristi's car is home it gets barricaded next to the house by someone else's car until she can get her car re-keyed. But of all the costs and things stolen, we miss our sense of security the most. I'm suddenly very conscious of the knives in the kitchen and how close I am to them in any given room in the house. We're also seriously considering getting a dog.

...Which, I won't be able to take pictures of. In fact, it'll be awhile until I can replace my camera and give you visual updates of what I'm writing about, and I'll save you from any more pitiful drawings in paint. But I'll write about my Christmas later with or without visuals.

Just call me Haley "beam in the eye" Greer

2007-12-15T10:16:00.000-07:00

I have this thing I like to call my Pride Pendulum. Back when I was a teenager I didn't think too highly of myself and was fairly insecure about a lot of things about me. In high school my pride pendulum started to swing from the negative end of the self-esteem scale toward the middle somewhere, and that's when I kind of discovered who I am and what I'm about and started enjoying being me. But, since my mission I've felt my pendulum swing from the middle part labeled "confidence" toward the positive end of "arrogance" on occasion. In short, every now and then I'll catch myself thinking pretty highly of myself. And, consequently, my pendulum will hit something that will stop its positive trajectory and swing it violently back toward the humility end where it belongs.

How this usually happens is that I'll perceive someone to be less happy than they could be, and I'll start to tell people how they should change their behaviors in order to be a happier and more successful person. The first problem with this is that "a happier and more successful person" really means "more like me" without me realizing it. And, much to my amazement, not everyone appreciates this advice. While I'm giving it I am agast when it is taken with anything less than graciousness and gratitude, but in retrospect I correctly realize that, in fact, people don't like being told (or reminded of) what's wrong with them. Even when it's someone they respect and trust. ESPECIALLY when it's someone they respect and trust.

I did this same thing to one of the least deserving of my friends this weekend, and when the response wasn't nearly as positive as the "oh thank you Haley for bringing this to my attention!" that I was expecting for some reason, I was once again reminded that I am NOT as awesome as I think I am sometimes. And after the inital socked-in-the-gut feeling of guilt starts to go away, I'm grateful for the reminder. I am grateful for friends who aren't afraid to call me on it when I'm in the wrong.

It reminds me of my favorite institute teacher Brother Blake, who would every now and then show us parts of an episode of Star Trek: the Next Generation to make his point for the day. One of the ones I remember most vividly is an episode called "Remember Me," where Dr. Beverly Crusher thinks that everyone else on the ship who is slowly disappearing is in an alternate dimension. She says, "If there's nothing wrong with me... there must be something wrong with the universe."

After repeated attempts to figure out what has gone wrong and how to right the universe again, she ends up realizing that in fact SHE'S the one who is in "the bubble." Don't worry, she gets out... but only after she was able to admit that the problem was hers, not anyone elses.

I'm sure you see where I'm going with this. I was also reminded of this principle today when my visiting teachers came and talked about charity. More specifically, that true charity is unconditional love that inspires people to be better, rather than doing things that forces them to be better. Charity builds, it does not tear down.

So I'm still digesting my humble pie. But I'm grateful for patient and understanding friends and family around me who are quick to forgive when I get in one of those moods, and who feed me said pie as nicely as they can.

Thanks to Jeff whose recent post about Star Trek inspired me to reference it in my own blog entry. I'm not a Trekkie by any means so it won't be a regular thing, but I thought it was appropriate for the subject. To round things out, I'll also reference the song "Popular" from the musical Wicked:

Glinda: Elphie, I've decided to make you my new project.

Elphaba: You really don't have to do that.

Glinda: I know. That's what makes me so nice.

Okay, one more musical reference. I once played the role of Lucy in the musical You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown, and in the song "The Doctor is In" Lucy tells Charlie Brown that the way to cure his depression is to make a list of all the things that are wrong with him. He sings about his shortcomings, and she adds to his list. I really loved playing that role, probably because being a brat came almost too naturally to me. This is an actual picture of the performance. Man, I can pull some interesting faces...

Still no AA batteries for my camera. I keep forgetting to purchase them. I almost decided to use the ones in my alarm clock, but figured that probably wouldn't be a good idea come Monday morning. Hopefully I'll post some holiday-esque pictures soon...

By the way, I don't commenly refer to my pride as "Bob"... I just liked the picture of the pendulum and thought I'd use it. My pride is more of a "Stanley" anyway...

Two AA Batteries

2007-12-07T20:46:00.000-07:00

...are the only thing that stands between you and accurate visuals of what I've been up to lately. My camera is great but it sure wears through batteries quickly, and I keep forgetting to purchase new ones at the store.

So, I'll try and illustrate the details to the best of my ability... literally.

My roommate Cristi and her family participate in a bell choir every year, and my other roommate Melissa is the usual vocalist for a couple of their numbers. However, there are a couple of performances she wasn't able to make it to, so I was the pinch, uh, singer.

Now I like to sing, and I'm slowly getting better, but I'm currently not a great soloist by any means. However, someone recently challenged me to do something impossibly uncomfortable every day, and this definitely qualifies. Ironically, of the three performances in which I sang, I think I sounded the best at the old-folks home where hardly any of them could hear me and would probably not remember me anyway. The whole experience did help me decide what I truly want for Christmas: voice lessons. I will sound like Karen Carpenter yet!

While at one of these bell performances we were able to look through a small Christmas boutique (you know, one of those craft-show things that looks like the Quilted Bear himself threw up everywhere.) As I was wandering my eye was caught by a stand that wasn't selling wooden signs or little trinkets; it was selling flavored oils. The man at the stand saw us pause and beckoned us to come over and sample some things.

Free samples of oil aren't necessarily at the top of my "favorite free samples" list (in truth I've never made such a list, but if I did it would include any form of marinated meat), but he put a single drop in a tiny spoon and said, "Try this lime flavored oil. It's great in fajitas." As I put the spoon in my mouth my tongue was greeted by a pleasant explosion of citrus goodness, and his words of "It's great in fajitas" rang in my ears and burned itself into my mind (picture me standing with a sample spoon in my mouth and my eyes closed to maximize the lime flavor I was enjoying while a thought bubble appears over my left shoulder, and Oil Man's head in the thought bubble speaking in a haunting ghosty kind of way, "It's greeeaaat in fajiiiiiiitaaaaas..... ooooo...". Of course that's not what really happened but if I were making a film about this experience then that's how I would direct it.)

I bought the bottle of lime-flavored oil intending to give it to my dad for Christmas, but became so curious as to whether or not I could even MAKE fajitas that a few days later I decided that I'd make fajitas for my roommates. Then, hours later, I decided I'd make fajitas for whoever wanted to come and try them. Thus commenced Operation: Fajita. (Original, I know.)

So thursday night I rushed home from work and started cutting and chopping and cooking probably 10 lbs of chicken and onions and peppers [special thanks to my roommates and Erin (of the previously mentioned Amazing Race adventure) for helping clean the house and prepare the food.] Though my first try at using the oil almost had me burning the house down, I refined my method and ended up making some very good fajitas. About 15 friends came over to partake in the feast, and it seems they were well-received all around.

Friday was my work holiday party, so I "worked" for about an hour before I went over to help decorate. You see, I'm a member of something at my work called the "Bureau of Merriment," which essentially is the party-planning committee. They need one representative from each branch of the agency, and since my branch of the agency consists of me and my boss, I automatically got recruited as the one who has far more expendable time to do such things. I'm not arguing against this fact; I'm far less important than my boss is. But I'm also far less irresponsible than she is too, so it's probably better this way.

Our party consisted of a catered meal, a few games, and some feel-good stories from the different branches of the agency. One of the games was a white elephant gift exchange, and I've never seen such competition! Each person drew a number that told them which order they go in, and in each situation you could either open a new present, or steal someone else's. I successfully stole a 6 piece plyer set from someone else, and then anytime someone would consider taking them from me, I'd give them a pitiful look and tell them how much I needed them to keep my bike in working condition (which wasn't entirely true, but they bought it.) I was able to hold onto my tools, and now I'm excited to purchase myself a box in which to place them.

That's pretty much what I've been up to. Oh, I turn 26 on tuesday the 11th. It stings a little bit more than 25 did, but not much. It seems that for about 3 months before I turn any given age I prepare myself mentally to become that age, so when it actually happens it's not a huge transition. It seems like I've been 26 since September, really.

My apologies for the drawings. Especially the one that looks like a lemon-worshipping cult.

Sometimes adventure sneaks up on you.

2007-11-28T18:01:00.000-07:00

Sunday night I was watching a movie with my roommates until fairly late, and then checked my phone to find I had missed a call from my good friend, Erin Klein. Erin has been looking for a job for the last month or so, so when I listened to her message and all it said was, "I have a better idea than getting a job. Call me back," I was intrigued... but not enough to call her back that late. In retrospect, I wish I had.

So I finally called her back Monday afternoon to see what her brilliant idea was. She proceeded to tell me very passionately how much she wanted to apply to be on the TV reality show the Amazing Race, and that since I wasn't too attached to anyone or anything at the moment, she wanted me to be her partner. She then informed me that if we were going to apply we needed to put everything for the application packet together that night, because the applications were due the following day (Tuesday) at 5pm. She was planning on flying to California Tuesday morning to turn in the packet in person (thanks to her mom's Jet Blue flight benefits) and fly back the same day.

It took me only a few seconds to decide, "sure, why not?" And then I asked if her mom had a buddy pass I could have so she didn't have to go to California on her own. Sure enough she did. So, I told Erin I'd come over after work and we could start working on the applications and our 3-minute video.

While waiting out the last couple hours of work I went online to look over eligibility requirements for the Race, and saw that either a copy of a passport or proof of a request for a passport was required. My heart sank, because I had neither. I was about to call Erin and tell her to hold the plane reservation, but then I realized there were still a couple of hours before the passport part of the post office closed. If I leave right now...

I had half a thought to tell my boss I was sick as my excuse to leave early and use the same excuse the next day to explain my absence, but thought better of it and just told her the crazy truth instead: "Can I leave now so I can get a passport so I can fly to California tomorrow so I can be on a reality show?" Surprisingly, she was completely and totally supportive. For as spacey as she is, she's also a very free spirit.

So in the next several hours I applied for a passport, we filled out the 13 page applications, took pictures of ourselves and printed them, and made our 3-minute video of why we should be chosen. Our selling points were: a) we met working at a girls camp together where we learned a lot about resourcefulness and adaptability, b) we were single, unattached, and had useless bachelors degrees under our belts, and c) we were so intent on being considered that we FLEW to California to get the application in on time. This is the picture we included of us for the application:

After we got everything together we went to bed at midnight and woke up four short hours later to catch our flight at 6am. This is me, happy to be on the plane:

This is Erin, finishing her application while we wait for the plane:

This is what it looks like...

...when we're about here in our flight:

Long Beach Airport is essentially nothing more than a large relocatible. See, look:

So we landed and set out on our next task: trying to navigate the bus system. Erin had printed out basic instructions on how to get to the address on our package, so we started from there. We got on a bus which dropped us off at a Metro station, at which point we decided to go into Carl's Jr. to use the restroom. While politely waiting for an open stall, Erin and I exchange embarassed glances while we hear the unfortunate sounds of someone with SEVERE indigestion in one of the stalls. I use the restroom and as Erin is about to take my stall, a heavyset man emerges from the other stall and walks straight out the door. You heard me... a man, in the women's room. Furthermore, he didn't wash his hands before he made a beeline out the door. This was just our first encounter with the characters in the Long Beach area.

Next, we weren't sure we were getting on the right train, so Erin asked a man at our stop, "does this train go to Compton?" He merely nodded, so we shrugged and got on. As we found a seat I notice the man who had nodded sat right across from us, but Erin obviously didn't because she said rather loudly, "I'll bet that guy doesn't even speak English." I give her a look, and she realizes shortly thereafter that the guy was right next to us and had heard her comment. When we both made eye contact he smiled, pointed at a map on the bus, and said, "Compton." Erin just about melted into a puddle of embarassment while I laughed at her. This is the speed limit right outside the metro stop:

And this is Erin clutching our precious cargo, right before she put her foot in her mouth:

At the Compton stop we hopped onto another bus, but were wondering out loud whether it was the one going in the right direction. A handful of people on the bus told us that we were in fact on the wrong one and were all at the same time telling us how to get back onto the right track. Thanks, team metro 125!

This is me, once we HAD found the right bus. At this point we hadn't seen another white person for about half an hour:

We finally got off the bus about 45 minutes later in El Segundo. The bus had dropped us off on Main Street, and that was the address on the package. So we wandered up Main Street only a little ways until we hit our destination. It wasn't a big CBS studio and we weren't greeted by the producer of the show like we were hoping... in fact, it was a UPS store and we were greeted by a woman who had a big bucket of packages for the Amazing Race similar to ours. We consoled ourselves with the thought that surely no one else had come as far as we did to hand-deliver their package. But still, Erin was not as thrilled about it as she looks in this picture:

Well, our purpose for being there had been fulfilled, so we backtracked to familiar territory so we wouldn't get too lost for the rest of the day. On our way back to Long Beach we found this staircase at the metro stop:

At this same metro station I used a $20 bill to purchase a $1.25 metro pass, and ended up receiving $18 in Susan B. Anthony dollar coins. My purse was suddenly ten pounds heavier, and I was suddenly more inclined to give money to the homeless people who would ask for it, just to get them out of my purse.

Upon boarding the train we were shortly thereafter joined by these two characters. One, wearing a ball cap on top of a cowboy hat. The other, reading his paper with his face about two inches away from it, with a pair of perfectly good glasses in his left hand. These were the only two of the many characters we encountered that we were able to photograph without being noticed.

On this same train ride a black man with one prosthetic eye started talking to us like he was continuing a conversation he had already started (which perhaps he did, but we weren't privy to it.) He was telling us about how a lady in the train behind us had her purse stolen and was giving us all kinds of tips about how to keep that from happening to us, because we were white (still are, in fact) and seemingly easy targets. He then proceeded to tell us about how he had been mugged by three guys, one of which had cracked him in the back of the head with a baseball bat and had knocked his eye clean out of his head and into his hand. He painted quite the picture, and we got the message: if we wanted to keep our purses and eyes in tact, keep them close and be careful.

After finding our way back to Long Beach we ate a quick lunch from Albertsons (after our encounter with Mr. Indigestion in the women's room we didn't dare eat at any of the fast food establishments around us), and then boarded a bus that we thought was taking us south toward the ocean and the Aquarium. It was in fact heading north, which I didn't figure out until about 20 minutes into the bus ride, so we hopped off the bus and waited for the one coming in the other direction. It was at this point that the 2 or so hours of sleep we had received the night before was starting to catch up to us, and Erin discovered this under the lid of the Sobe drink she had. It pretty much summed up how we felt about the Long Beach area generally:

We finally made our way to the Aquarium and saw a lot of cool things. My favorite part was the touch pools, where they allowed us to touch rays and sharks and sponges and things like that. Here's Erin demonstrating:

After the Aquarium we made our way over to the rocky shore and sat, staring out into the ocean for 45 minutes or so. Then we took our buses back to the airport, and ended up landing back in Salt Lake at 10:45pm.

It was a lot of fun and we had a really good time, and it gave us a taste of what navigating strange cities will be like if we do indeed make it on the Amazing Race. It also gave me a greater appreciation for everything I have, because spending the day on California public transit and being surrounded by those who were pretty severely without made me realize how blessed I truly am. But more importantly, it made me realize how I really should learn how to tell North from South without the Wasatch mountains to guide me before I attempt any kind of Race, Amazing or otherwise.

The predictable Thanksgiving post

2007-11-22T20:34:00.000-07:00

I feel like I'm in a fairly selfish part of my life. I seem to justify focusing on my own needs by telling myself that I need to find some kind of stability in MY life before I can help anyone else with theirs. This is bogus thinking and I recognize that, but it's an easy pattern to fall into.

Consequently I do my share of unneccessary complaining. So in order to counteract this bad ju-ju that I send into the universe, I thought I'd make a list of things I'm grateful for, especially lately. This list is not comprehensive and is in no particular order.

My knowledge of who I am, where I came from, and what I'm doing here (the Gospel of Jesus Christ.)
Blankets (my house is kept at a less-than-cozy 65 degrees.)
My silly, silly family.
My wonderful friends (that's you guys! You made the list!)
My sense of responsibility (thanks Dad!)
My tailor-made trials.
Popcorn (my life-long vice.)
Costa Vida chicken salads (my recent vice.)
Living in a country with freedoms, rights, and privileges.
Having a house to come home to, regardless of temperature (I spend a lot more time around the homeless than I used to.)
A job (not always MY job, but having one at all.)
The 18 months I spent as a missionary (the most invaluable 18 months of my life).
The countless wonders and beauties of the world (I've been watching the Planet Earth series again.)
Sunshine.
My health.
My sense of humor (again, thanks Dad. I blame all the especially goofy things I say on him.)

There's a lot more and I could go on, but this covers the basics. I hope each of you had a good Thanksgiving and that your holidays are looking bright. If not, let me know and I'll see what I can do to arrange some brightening.