She & Him & Him but not so much me

Last Thursday GH and I went to Pioneer Park in downtown Salt Lake with my brother coolboy and his wife A (just realized I don't know if she wants me using her real name here so I'd better not). We were there for the final show of the free Twilight Concert Series, even She & Him, starring GH's girlfriend Zooey Deschanel and some other guy.

Note: we tried to go to the first night of this series back at the beginning of summer when somebody called Modest Mouse performed, but we had to leave because we were all having Food Inc. flashbacks of all the squealing pigs crammed into the slaughterhouse just before the lights went dark and they all died in some terrible way. I wasn't waiting around for that to happen to me. Seriously, they wrote newspaper articles about how insane it was.)

This time it was much less crowded, which was great. We sat on the grass before and during the opening act, during which time I experienced Zen whilst consuming a calamari taco from the Chow Truck and then a Nutella-banana crepe from the good people of Flippin' Good Crepes. Both were excellent. I wanted another taco. And maybe one of those goat cheese crepes.

So far, so good. My problems began during the 45 minutes between the opening act and the main event. By this time the crowd standing in front of the stage had grown so that it reached us. We went ahead and stood up too. But I think maybe a hot pregnant woman who has no more crepes to eat can only stand for so long pressed up against other bodies. I wouldn't let GH touch me because that added heat. He, towering over my head, could feel a breeze, but I couldn't. People were smoking, and the smell was bothering me. Some group behind me positioned a friend of theirs so that he was standing pretty much on top of me, so I had to turn around and kindly inform him that his friends were wrong and he needed to move. The music they were playing through the speakers was really, really weird and unpleasant. (I'm not alone in this assessment, GH agreed with me.)

So as the time stretched on, I started to wonder: "How is this fun for people? And really, how exactly is this any different from standing in line at the DMV? Or perhaps the merchandise returns line at Wal-Mart? We're all just standing here and many of us are socially and/or hygenically offensive. Nothing is happening and there's nothing to do but stand and wait."

Only then I found out how it's different. A plastic beer cup came flying from up front and landed on my foot. GH and I looked down at the cup, and then at each other.

Silence.

Squinted eyes from me.

GH: "Um, at least it was empty, right?"

Me, through gritted teeth: "It wasn't all the way empty."

After eight million years, the band came out and got started. Zooey's hair was very pretty, and made me wish I were a brunette with long hair and bangs just like hers. In honor of her visit to Utah, she was wearing some kind of polygamist dress. Well played, Deschanel.

Of course, once the main event began, more people tried to make their way into the crowd and up to the front. We got more and more packed in. I became more and more cranky as the available oxygen levels depleted. After maybe 10 minutes (but probably more like 5) I was done. I kissed GH and fought my way out of there.

The fresh air was like crack cocaine. Too late, I realized that I hadn't brought GH's wallet out with me, so I had no cash to spend recklessly at the food stalls I had not yet patronized. So instead I called my mom and chatted with her for a little while. Then I listened to the rest of the concert. I was outside of the main body but could still see and hear just fine. So that was nice.

When I met up with GH and C & A immediately afterwards, I found out that they'd been just great without me. As soon as I left they made their way closer to the stage and fully enjoyed themselves, no longer hindered by the about-to-snap cranky lady. I understand that the crowds weren't too much of a problem, as my sweet s-in-law body-checked the people who got into her space.

Later, I told GH that I just don't think I'm ever really going to be the concert-enjoying helpmeet he was hoping for. And that I'm sorry and I hope this doesn't ruin our marriage. He said that's okay. Apparently I have other qualities, like knowing what the Flux Capacitor is, that more than make up for me not liking concerts.

Whew.

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My camera and the computer are fighting, so I don't have any Cedar City pics to put up yet. But here's the brief trip recap (eighty-seven years later).

We got to Cedar City and checked in--we stayed at The Anniversary House, just a block or so away from the festival. The owner, Nan, was incredibly nice and even fixed us up a special tray with sparkling cider, champagne flutes, and chocolate-dipped strawberries as a "Happy Anniversary" surprise. She also had chocolate cake and goodies out in the dining room at all times along with a fridge full of bottled water and sodas.

The mistake we made was in scheduling an evening play during our one-night stay. So we didn't really get to appreciate the room, or the treats that were sitting out, or the DVDs you could borrow. Instead we staggered in around 11:30pm, were too full from dinner and the summerberry tart at intermission (mmmmm . . . tarts . . . ) to give the chocolate cake more than a glance, went to the room and crashed because we knew we had to be up for breakfast at 8:30am. Poor planning on our (read: my) part.

The play was great, though. We saw Much Ado about Nothing in the outdoor Shakespearean-style theatre. But first we watched The Greenshow. It was Irish Night, apparently. (Unofficial title: Where two guys will do cheesy comedy in quasi-Irish accents until 5 minutes in when they forget to do the accents anymore.) Scanning the crowd, GH spotted a group of attractive, 20-something Mormon-looking girls.

GH: "Hey, that's you and your friends, isn't it?"

Me: "Yep, pretty much."

GH, still looking around: "Aaaand there's another group. And another one . . . and another one." He was starting to laugh at this point.

Me: "Yeah, it's called being cool and coming to the Shakespeare Festival with your friends. It's what cool girls do."

GH: "Wow, I should have been coming here all these years with my guy friends. Who even knew this was the place to meet all the English major girls?"

So, guys, now you know. Cedar City in the summer is the place to pick up the smart chicks. And the competition shouldn't be too fierce, since we checked out the guys who were there in groups and let's just say that not many of them seemed . . . that interested in the women around them. Just saying.

Anyway. Back to the play.

The production was great. I'd show you a picture of the stage, but apparently it's copyrighted and one of the ushers made me promise to delete the image from my camera. Don't ask me how you copyright grapevines . . . but whatever. I love this play because I love me some Beatrice/Benedick romantical sparring action. I've seen it a couple of times before onstage and I've seen the Kenneth Branagh film where they somehow thought Keanu Reeves could play a villian (bless his heart, you need facial expressions to be villianous, sweetie . . . ). GH had never seen this play before, but he really enjoyed it after the few minutes it takes to get your "translate from Shakespeare" gears moving.

I must say that David Ivers is sort of replacing Brian Vaughn as my Shakespeare Festival boyfriend. Between his role as Benedick in this production and the 100+ characters he played in The 39 Steps the next day, he was kind of a rock star. Everyone else was good too and I got a tart during intermission. 'Nuff said.

Then came the staggering back to the b&b and the passing out. Breakfast the next morning was quiche, sausage, melon, juice, and coffee/tea/hot chocolate. I enjoyed the quiche and melon but skipped the sausage because it did not appeal, as it resembled a greasy pre-packaged hockey puck. I very thoughtfully made hot chocolate for both GH and myself, but didn't realize that the hot water kettle wasn't turned on until GH took a sip of his. Woops.

There was a pregnant woman and her mother at our table for breakfast, so as soon as her mom and GH left the table (one to go put on makeup and the other to get a few more minutes of sleep) she and I immediately began talking the pregnant talk (specifically, What Is Even Going On With Our Boobs). It's amazing how the commonality of being pregnant means that you're suddenly chatting gaily away about nipples with someone whose name you don't even know.

After checking out, GH and I drove up to Cedar Breaks to see the lookout. Then after way too much ice cream at Maggie Moos it was time for The 39 Steps. It was funny, but I swear it wasn't as funny as some people thought it was. The play opens with Brian Vaughn sitting in a chair, doing a mildly amusing opening monologue about how bored he is with life. And so help me, there were people shrieking with laughter at pretty much every single line. I have no idea. Were they just so happy to be out of their homes? I felt like I was caught in one of those 1970s British sitcoms they show late at night on PBS where Judi Dench does something completely normal like blinking and they blare the laugh track up to 11 and you're just imagining all these sad supposed British people falling on the floor in the studio audience, gasping for breath. And you wonder what must be so very wrong with their lives.

That said, the play was very funny and cleverly done. There were only 4 actors. Brian Vaughn played the lead, a 1930s British man named Richard Hanney who is plunged into a world of intrigue after a mystery woman shows up, mentions important government secrets about to be stolen out of the country, and is then murdered in his apartment. Three other actors (Carol Linnea Johnson, Aaron Galligan-Stierle, and David Ivers, my boyfriend) play all the other parts. At one point David Ivers played a loud, swooping, over-the-top landlady and did his absolute best to make his costars break character. He got Johnson--she had to turn her face away from the audience to try to compose herself. But he couldn't get Brian Vaughn, even when he brushed his large false bosom across Vaughn's arm flirtatiously. Because that is called professional, madame. A lot of the laughs came from the way they handled the set, which was very sparse and deliberately low-budget-looking. Characters in wheeled chairs were pushed onstage by unseen hands, deliberate set-changing goofs were included, that sort of thing. There were also lots of Hitchcock references and in-jokes, which were fun to spot. And there was one cell phone ring. Of course.

After the play it was time to head home. Our trip was over too quickly, I think. In a perfect world we would have stayed another night and watched Pride & Prejudice, which also got a lot of good buzz. But it was still lovely, and I believe GH had a good enough time that I could probably convince him to go back with me.

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Taylorsville Dayzz

Have discovered a new tradition, friends. And I'm almost reluctant to share it here because I don't want everyone to show up and take all the parking next time. But last weekend GH and I checked out a local summer offering. Lots of Utah towns have annual festivals (many revolve around agriculture in some way, such as Brigham City's Peach Days and Pleasant Grove's Strawberry Days). The festival in Taylorsville, UT is known as Taylorsville Dayzz. (And, yes, the "zz" concerned me initially, but it turned out to have been a needless concern. The "zz" is, in fact, how you know it's good.)

The festival lasted for four whole days, but we just went on Saturday evening. Here were a few of the things we experienced:

Free, on-site parking with ushers to direct you to empty spots and tell you which direction to park. Niiiiiiice.

Decent-looking carnival rides, which we did not take advantage of, and many food booths, which we did. Five bucks got me a big ol' funnel cake with powdered sugar, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, slivered almonds, and peanut butter chips on top. AW. YEAH.

Petting zoo complete with sweetest tiny baby goat ever seen in life. I stood by the fence and whimpered, begging GH to let me take it home with me. He said we could take home the pig instead. "But I don't want the pig, I want the precious baby goat *squeak whimper whine squeak burble*" I don't remember much after that; I might have blacked out.

Porta-potties called "Honey Pots." That is a gross name. What was not gross was that they had anti-bacterial gel dispensers inside each one, so that germophobe GH would continue to hold my hand and be near me after I used said pot in my desperate need to empty the whole 1.5 ounces of urine that were causing my bladder to darn near explode. (Thank you for that, small one.)

Beatles Tribute Band, backed up by the Taylorsville Symphony Orchestra. There was a huge crowd there for the concert, all sacked out on blankets and chairs. We sat behind the Family That GH Wants to Be in Twenty Years. Not only did they compliment him on his Captain Hammer Tshirt, but they and their teenaged kids were huge Beatles fans who sang along to all the songs. Was glad to have another friend with us so that she and I could nicely make fun of GH's Beatles fervor. (Also she showed me where the fist-pumps belong during Neil Diamond's "America," which leads us to . . . )

Thirty-minute long fireworks show, complete with music. We know how long it lasted because we timed the thing--which we will be doing forever now after the 8-minute travesty known as the crap fireworks of last year's Stadium of Fire in Provo (alternate name: Here's Hoping Carrie Underwood Will Be Enough to Distract You From How Much Our Fireworks Might Suck.) The Taylorsville fireworks show, though, was really impressive--they had a few things that I'd never seen before. And the music was great, too. They'd alternate between patriotic songs and then big crowd-pleasers like "Mamma Mia," "America," and "YMCA." One mistake I noticed was that over the course of the show they played the marches for the Air Force, the Navy, the Marines, and . . . the Marines again. Not quite sure what happened there.

And? AND? Best part ever, when the fireworks were over we stood up, gathered our blankets, walked briskly to the car, started it up, and were out of that parking lot and out of town in about 4 minutes. It was the cherry on the sundae, I tell you.

So. Anybody out there have any local festival recommendations, or reason why your town's ------ Days is the best?

With that discussion question thrown out there, I'll just go ahead and wish everybody a Happy 4th of July weekend, with hopes that your foods will be plentiful and tasty and your fireworks will not suck.

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Bear Lake report

Last week GH and I headed north and spent a few days in Bear Lake, UT with his family. His three sisters and their husbands were all there too, along with the 3.5 grandchildren. (Note: Not that it's a competition or anything, but my kid was the quietest.)

Here are a few trip highlights:

When I was told that we would be "staying in a friend's cabin," I was mentally prepared for, you know, a cabin. The kind with log walls, dead flies in the windowsills, much plaid and other homey furnishings, and perhaps some end tables made from stumps carved in the shape of bears. This thing turned out to be a McMansion up in the hills overlooking the lake. The only nod to "cabin" was the part where the wood paneling around the doorways (like, for instance, the one leading into the master bathroom with its sunken jetted tub) looked slightly rustic. This place was plush, I tell you, with loads of room for everybody.

All the power went out in the valley around 11pm our first night there. By the light of cell phones and iPods we managed to locate the candles and flashlights, which, thank the merciful heavens above, actually existed. Also I turned on the gas fireplace, which worked, and which made me look like a blackout genius. Made me realize that I need to get on the ball with regards to my own apartment's candles/flashlights/matches stash or we could have some unpleasant times ahead.

Sister-in-law K & husband J were visiting from Pittsburgh with their 3-month-old baby. He weighs about 87 pounds and is all cheeks and dimples and baby chuckles. Adorable. I'm pretty sure that baby sweater I knitted for him back on the Hawaii plane could have only fit while he was still in utero. (Note to self: Take possibility of super-advanced Hulk babies into consideration when planning knitted gifts.)

We had access to the swimming pools down near the lake, which was a good thing because the water in Bear Lake was cold enough to make your toes retract into your body and it possibly had ice chunks floating on the surface. Not that I found this out for myself, I just observed other people hobbling rapidly back up from the water's edge, all blue and toe-less. Here's hoping it will warm up a bit in the next month before my side of the family makes the trek up there for our own get-together.

Almost had heart failure at the pool watching a fearless kamikaze red-headed toddler launching himself into the water regardless of whether someone was actually there to catch him. I'm thinking his parents may want to look into a flotation device. I saved his life at one point, and credit such catlike reflexes to my Library Job Which Shouldn't Perhaps Be All About Saving Toddlers From Certain Death and Yet Which Still Very Much Is.

Didn't get sunburned at all! Yay for repeatedly slathering self with SPF Eleventy-Thousand until resembling a flaky ghost! Sure I got some weird "Are they remaking Powder?" looks, but who's laughing now!!!! Also? I love you, Neutrogena Ultra-Sheer Dry Touch Sunblock. And I love Costco (shocker) for selling you in twin packs for cheap.

There was much good food, including Garden City's famed raspberry milkshakes from LaBeau's. Each couple was responsible for a meal and people brought their A-games with things like homemade Cafe Rio salads, Swedish pancakes, and grilled steaks and such. Unfortunately they also invited some white trash relations who showed up with Stoffer's lasagna, frozen garlic bread, and bagged salad. (Me, me, me . . . )

During the course of a "how well do you know your spouse" board game, GH let it slip that I was not necessarily favor of circumcision if our child should be a male child. I think he did this on purpose to drum up support for his own side of the argument, which his b-in-laws were, of course, happy to provide. Lucky for us all, GH's mom shut the friendly discussion down before it could get out of hand. And now the guys can feel free to give GH pitying glances and headshakes like, "Hey dude. You married her."

Aw yeah he did.

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Girl's Relaxation Day, Part Deux

Much, much too long ago (nearly two years) my sisters and I had a Girl's Relaxation Day in Park City, where we retreated from our lives and painted our toenails and stuffed ourselves with brie, which we could technically have done in our own places of residence but felt (rightly) that it would be better to do it somewhere else.

This fall we decided that it was time for another much-needed Girl's Relaxation Day, and since Park City had treated us so well last time we made that our destination. The nice thing about Park City, I think, is that even though it's not that far away it still feels like a different sort of place. This is probably because they have coffee there.

Spitfire booked an amazing spot for us to stay and treated me and Jen to an evening of luxury. For, lo, she is awesome. We were at the Westgate Resort, which was just beautiful and perfect and wonderful.

Resort highlights included:

A full kitchen and living room.

A hot tub in the bedroom. (Aw, yeah. Except, you know, not so much, since I was there with my sisters. No Victoria Secret bubble bath parties here, sorry.)

A huge stone shower with both a regular shower head and a waterfall shower head (the kind that comes down from the ceiling.) The shower also has a bench built in and functions as a sauna. (So, um, all other showers can kind of eat it now.)

An outdoor heated pool (lovely) and two outdoor hot tubs. We chose the one that came with the Speedo-wearing European man. As you do.

In true Girl's Relaxation Night style, there was toenail painting and brie-eating and pumpkin-pie-eating and TV-watching. No no-bake cookies this time, probably because my sisters remember almost being gassed to death last year. There was also much sighing at the catalog of spa services offered downstairs, which sighs then turned to chokes and seizures upon the reading of the prices. We watched the TV channel advertising the spa for a little bit but then had to turn it off because it was just too tantalizing (ahhh, spa porn). Our new plan is that one day when we're all quite rich we are going to book ourselves into a spa for a weekend. It's gonna be great. We then piled into the king-sized bed, which fit all three of us easily, and slept soundly. That is until my cell phone alarm went off at 7:00am, please do not ask me why. It seems that I am alarm-challenged.

For breakfast Jen made crepes. I would have helped, but I was Experiencing the Shower. She did Julia Child's crepe recipe with a savory chicken-bacon-mushroom-leek-pure-crystallized-crack-cocaine filling. And for calcium we added slabs of warm brie. Women need calcium, you know. My bones start to deteriorate this year--gotta stave that off. There were also nutella crepes with fresh raspberries, real whipped cream, and sauteed apples. Because we know how to party.

Once we got cleaned up and I'd done everyone's eyebrows and eye makeup (remember, girlie weekend) we hit the outlet stores. And yes, I'm sure there are some friends out there right now thinking, "Wait. YOU were the one doing people's eye makeup? Uh . . . " But what they do not know is that I've totally figured out how to do one really nice-looking smoky grey-blue eyeshadow thing. So that's what we all got. And we looked hot, I tell you.

Jenny took in the biggest shopping haul as she was on a mission to buy new church-going clothes. I got two nice tops and mentally purchased an entirely new wardrobe for GH at Banana Republic. As a heterosexual male, he would probably object to most of my choices. One day, though. One day.

So yeah. We've decided this needs to be an annual thing. And maybe we should spend two nights instead of one. And we need to check the closets more carefully when we leave because if we don't then the housekeeping staff will steal the black J.Crew shirt Jenny accidentally left hanging in the closet and then the hotel will just pretend like we maybe imagined the black shirt and that possibly Jenny did not actually wear it to the hotel but just turned up to check in wearing nothing but a bra. (I'm kind of glad now that I forgot to leave a tip for those stealers. Except . . . maybe that's why we're in this situation now. Huh.)

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You're still you

Yesterday I drove downtown to the Capitol Theatre to try my luck at the Wicked tickets drawing that takes place before each performance. You show up, put your name on an index card, put it in a cauldron (because hi, witches), and 30 minutes later they draw 10 names. If your name is called, you can buy 2 tickets for that night's performance. You pay $25 in cash for each ticket, which you then wave in the faces of scalpers while you tell them what they can go do to themselves.

I knew there would probably be a big crowd. What I forgot was that the crowd would be made up of Utahn cultural-performance-goers. So, you know, pretty much my most favorite people in the world, right up there with suicide bombers. (Motto for both groups: Let's go ruin it for everybody!)

I must send out a big thank you to Daltongirl and Lola, who waited in line with me and kept my brain inside of my ears and my claustrophobia at bay while we chatted about things like knitting and Facebook and junior high courtship rituals, which consist of girls hissing things like "Just go talk to him!" and "Ohmygosh not so LOUD, I will!!!!" at each other repeatedly. I'm sorry you two didn't get tickets.

And now for the other notes of thanks.

Thank you, families who brought every single child you own (and remember, this is Utah, so that number can get quite high) to the theatre so you could submit more names into the bucket than anyone else. That didn't suck of you at all. Never even mind the part where there's no way you planned on actually taking your five preschool- and elementary-aged children to the play. Unless, of course, you actually did, which leads us to:

Thank you, parents who fully planned to take 3, 4, 5, and 6 year olds to the performance. Because that is absolutely who the show is for, and there's no way your kids could ever bother anyone else by getting bored, or tired, or antsy, or insane between the hours of 7:30 and 10:30pm.

Thank you, dad who urged your 10-year-old daughter to gaze soulfully into your eyes while singing Defying Gravity right next to me. That was a highlight. Also, I suspect that you might be creepy.

Thank YOU, red-scarfed old lady who never once moved from her spot on the sidewalk even as theatre employees were pleading for everyone to please make room for those who needed to exit the building, like me. You're lucky I'm a gentlewoman, because you were SO very close to getting elbowed. Thanks again for ignoring the fact that an actual ticket winner was trying to make his way around you to get to the front, and for just standing there determinedly in his path. I'm sure that helped your chances.

Thank you, Wicked employees, for drawing the name of a lady who looked like she was not at all excited to have just won, and in fact possibly did not even know what the drawing was even for.

Thank you, parking garage, for charging $4 to park for one hour. That was awesome.

Much love,

Nemesis

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Best thing I've read all week

My new guilty pleasure is Not Always Right, where I get to read about customer service interactions that are (sometimes) worse than the ones I get to be a part of. It also occasionally makes me think that the aliens probably should just head on over and enslave us all, because holy cow we are a stupid race. This one the other day was priceless.

(A woman came up to my counter in the clothing store I work in. She has a very distressed look on her face.)

Me: “How can I help you this morning?”

Customer: “What is this red sticker on the tag of this dress?”

Me: “That is a clearance sticker. That dress is 40% off.”

Customer: “But I was here yesterday and it wasn’t on clearance! I’ve
been eying that dress for weeks!”

Me: “Well, today is your lucky day - it went on clearance this morning.”

Customer: “I can’t buy it on clearance. Can you take that red sticker off the tag?"

Me: “Are you going to buy this dress?”

Customer: “I’m going to buy it once you take off that red tag. I don’t want to pay the clearance price.”

Me: “Even if I remove the sticker the register will still ring it up at clearance price.”

Customer: “Do I look like I’m the type to buy a dress on clearance?”
*holds the dress up dramatically*

Me: “Are you planning on buying this dress?”

Customer: “Are you planning on taking off that red sticker?”

Me: “Not until you pay for it.”

Customer: “You don’t understand my world.”

Am now going to start ending conversations with a deep sigh and a, "You don't understand my world." What made this extra awesome is that it happened in the world of Utah. Any chance the customer was TAMN?

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Rainy days and Mondays always get me down

Except yesterday's rainy Monday was rather nice. Because rain = not butt-freezing cold, and also gives me hope for spring. Snowy, blowy Tuesdays, on the other hand, are more like the harbinger of doom.

Ugh. I wish to go hibernate now.

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I'm dying and it's all the inversion's fault

We've been having this inversion thing for days now, where all the goshawful particles and microbes and pollution get trapped down here in the valleys for days on end and we all die.

I sort of forgot about the inversion and took a walk yesterday at lunch time because I was antsy and needed to get moving. Had to stop when I got a headache and my eyes started burning. Then remembered about the inversion.

GH told me yesterday was supposed to have been the worst day--that it was healthier to stay inside than to go out and exercise, and that the people on the news compared going outside to sitting next to a smoker.

So. I guess that walk counted as this year's trip to Paris. Except, you know, without the Eiffel Tower or the crepes or the cheese or any other good thing.

And now today have a funny headache and just feel gross, as I'm sure a lot of you do after days of pretty much sucking on an exhaust pipe. I swear, if anything should get the last-stand Utah anti-environment people rethinking things, this mess should. Although, I can just see them now, holed up in their homes and harrumphing things like, "Nonsense! Coughhackcoughgag! Air's fine! All this fuss is just that Robert Redford's way of trying to legalize gay marriage when we're not looking!"

But just so you know, the Utah Moms for Clean Air are having a meeting on Tuesday, January 27th at the Tuesday, January 27 at 6:30 pm at the Anderson-Foothill Library (1135 South 2100 East, Salt Lake City). You know, if people are willing to go outside to get there. And, for those who will not be making that meeting, they do let you know who to contact in the legislature to express your displeasure that you're getting all of the second-hand smoke benefits of Europe without any of the pretty, crepe-filled, memory-making ones. And also how you're at home shut in like Miss Havisham because you're asthmatic and therefore cannot walk outside without dropping dead.

Make them hear you, friends. Make them hear you.

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While we're pinning all our hopes and dreams on one man

Did everyone watch the inauguration today? Or are you planning to? Have been excited about this ever since Election Day and am happy to report that Michelle Obama's coat was awesome. Whew.

While watching the coverage this morning I realized that I missed a prime opportunity to do a bit of live blogging, especially during the parts where all the staff and Cabinet and such were walking down to their seats.

Me: That lady's American flag scarf is a bit much, I think.

GH: Mmm.

Me: Except her husband has that really natty fedora on, so . . .

And then we both made the "balancing the scales" hand gesture.

One thing I've been thinking about for the last few days is how this inauguration seems roughly on par with the wedding of Charles and Diana. (Get your commemorative plates, pins, tea towels here!) Let's hope this thing goes better than that thing did.

But the other thing I'm thinking about is how much I do not envy anyone who is being handled the reins of the presidency right now. Especially someone who is being billed as Son of Promise, Child of Hope or He Who Has Come to Save Us All in the Manner of Jesus As Foretold By Ancient Prophecy.


Because really, how can anyone live up to that? I mean, no matter what the man says about what is and it not possible, you know there people out there who are going to expect way too much of one person. So. While we're handing out unrealistic expectations for the new President, I'd like to add a few of my own:

Get rid of plastic grocery bags like they did in China. Because that would be awesome.

Please go back in time and cancel No Child Left Behind.

Fix the part where women are still earning less than men for doing the same jobs.

Ban gum chewing, because people don't seem to be able to do it without showing me their tonsils.

Please make everyone understand the value of libraries, or at least make the bunker-livers shut up about what a waste of tax dollars they are.

Let's get rid of Hummers for personal use. Because they're just stupid and take the Compensating for Something syndrome to new levels of unattractiveness.

How about getting some more English Oaks over here? I love me an English Oak. Also hedgerows. Let's get some of those too.

Outlaw leggings. Immediately.

Anybody have some to add? I'd love to hear 'em.

Of course, at some point I remember that a President can't do all these things, even if he agrees with me about the leggings. Which, hi, he totally should and probably does and dreads the day when his little girls want to go out in public wearing them, because then the terrorists will have won.

And then I realize that what we CAN do is become more aware of and put more effort into our local, county, and state governments. Too many of us (ME being the absolute worst offender of all time) know next to nothing about what is happening there and have never even tried to educate ourselves or make our voices heard. And then we complain about the kind of officials who get elected and the kind of laws that get passed (or don't). I think at least in Utah we fall into the trap of supposing that if we elect people who belong to our party or our religion (and they are two different things, ahem) then we can sit back and rest easy in the knowledge that everything is being taken care of nicely and we don't need to take any further notice.

Which, hi, no. I think we need to do more than that and I think we need to know more than that. Again, I am the worst about this. It has taken me roughly 10 years of living in Utah to finally realize that this is my actual home now and that what happens here affects me, my family, and the people I work and play and worship with.

So. That is my plan to help out the Son of Promise--by being a better citizen myself. Also by avoiding leggings. And Hummers.

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How to do Sundance . . . or should we say FUNDANCE!

Don't blame me for the FUNdance line, that was courtesy of Nick Cannon who is now a dj or something.

Did anybody ever read The Stupids when they were little? They were very funny books about a very nice, stupid family.

I'm pretty sure the title of our day could be summed up as The Stupids Go to Sundance. At certain points of the day I also felt we could identify with these two:



So. Here's the recipe for spending your day at Sundance in the manner of The Stupids:

Spend too much time on your hair that morning in preparation for your photo op with John Krasinski. (See? And we thought I wouldn't have anyone to lust after!) Assume that your husband is still getting ready and so do not go any faster even though that will turn out to be not true and that he was actually waiting for you but didn't want to say anything for fear you'd bite his head off because that's kind of the hormonal place you've been in lately.

Go into a tizzy just as we're leaving about how you can't find your iPod and oh my gosh what will you even DO if you don't have your iPod with you during a film festival. Tear home apart and make wife help you look. Wife will finally say, "Are you sure it isn't on you somewhere?" Locate iPod in your pocket after all of this. Look sheepish.

On the way to the Broadway Theatre in downtown SLC, read the fine print on the back of your ticket which says that you must be in your seats 15 minutes early if you don't want to lose your seat to the waitlist b@$&^(*s.

Arrive 10 minutes early and lose your seat to the waitlist b@$&^(*s. Kiss $30 goodbye. But hey, one of you has great hair and the other has a 60 GB iPod with a plastic nipple attached. And since you were BOTH latemaking, neither one can in fairness be angry with the other. Which is really what it comes down to in life.

Drive to Park City telling yourself that this is nice because you will be there while it's still light outside, which will work better for your camera. And for Jim Halpert.

Catch the recommended free shuttle bus from Kimball Junction, 6 miles from Park City. Spend 120 minutes on this bus. Pass much open parking along the way. Arrive after dark.

Arrive too late to catch Zooey Deschanel's entrance into her movie theatre.

Grab dinner at the site of last year's Relaxation Day Lunch. Dinner will be excellent. Treasure that.

Catch shuttle up to theatre where Michael Cera's movie will be playing in an effort to become waitlist b@$&^(*s yourselves. Arrive to find that they've been handing out waitlist numbers for the last hour. Your numbers are 163 and 164. If you had gone to that theatre first thing, before dinner, you too could have been sashaying your way up to the front of the line waving your ticket in the air like Little Miss Jeans Tucked Into My Boots 11.

Ponder tucking jeans into boots. Remember that while this may make you look stylish, it will also make you look like a very disproportionate dwarf. Or cowgirl.

Finally give up after the movie starts when they've only let in about 20 waitlist people. Find out afterwards that the theatre seats 650 people, so maybe you would have still gotten in. Console yourself with the thought that your tickets might go to the three nice girls from Orange County behind you, who haven't seen anything yet either. Because then it's noble.

See absolutely no famous people. Instead, walk through a cloud of weed so thick that it make you woozy. Because that's almost as good, right?

At the end of the day, even though you got to do none of the things you hoped to, and even though it turns out that you are both marginally functioning adults who will probably have to check yourselves into a care center sooner rather than later, it is a comfort to know that there is no one else you would rather waste a day with.

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Just a quickie

I didn't go shopping on Black Friday for several reasons:

1. There were leftovers to be eaten at Jenny's house.
2. I hate shopping in crowds and driving in traffic.
3. It was my Stand Against Commercialism, even though Cicada made fun of me for it. Only then she bought items that day which turned out to be no good, so . . . I think we all know what the take-home lesson is there.

And now that Black Friday is over,

4. Did you even hear about how a crowd of shoppers killed a guy??? Yeah. Like I want to be a part of that. Next time I want to be trampled, or trample someone, or witness a trampling, I'll run with the bulls, thanks. Because at least then I get to go to Spain.

So I did a bunch of my Christmas shopping today during a break between jobs. This was much nicer for several reasons.

1. Not as crowded, which led to . . .

2. Not as much mental swearing.

3. Nicer weather--everyone is walking around without jackets, and not in that "I'm a college freshman from Southern California and I will never own a jacket in life ever and I refuse to acknowledge that it is cold here and no those are not my fingers turning black" way. I could kiss Utah on the mouth for how nice the weather has been this fall. I'm sure it's just further evidence of global warming and our impending doom, but right now I say bring it. (Also? Suck it, skiers! Hahahahahahahahahaha)

4. The dollar store. I will tell you more of why it is my favorite in an upcoming post.

5. Only one failed stop--Michael's craft store is on my crap list for not having the yarn I need.

6. I looked really good in my skirt and hooker-but-not-hookerish-enough-boots and all the cashiers complimented my outfit. Which was a very soothing balm unto me, since by the time I got home I was limping--turns out these boots are not quite ready for 7 hours straight of standing/walking. Excuse me while I go wrap my feet in pillows and plastic wrap.

I'm hoping to make this Christmas a simple, lovely one. So this year I'm not sending cards and I'm not doing gifts for friends/neighbors etc. (I know! Shocking!) I figure most of my friends have probably gotten a lot of mail from me anyway this year. I may move the Christmas card thing to every other year, or send Valentine's cards instead, or something like that. And as for my friends, this is the heads-up for when you don't get a present from me. We're still friends! And now you're released from any gift-giving obligation to me, unless you just can't be happy unless you're giving me things. I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours.

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Happy Thanksgibbing back again!

Thanksgiving weekend highlights-to-be:

Experiencing a GH-extended-family-on-father's-side Thanksgiving in Bountiful. This will be the one where GH will not be able to introduce me to any of 167 cousins because he doesn't remember all of their names. (Shhhhhh!)

Wearing my new hooker boots to Thanksgiving dinner, while refraining from engaging in any actual sexual trafficking. During dinner, at least.



[Okay, but back to the boots for a second. Aren't they fabulous? Also they're Dansko which means it's pretty much like walking around on a cloud of fluffly angel breath. Purchased for a killer deal with Christmas money from Gentlemum. Thank you, Gentlemom!!!]

Pumpkin pie. I must ingest at least one whole pumpkin pie, or it's not Thanksgiving.

Heading down to Provo tomorrow for post-Thanksgiving gluttony with my sibs. This is the day where we eat turkey-brie-cranberry sandwiches, whatever leftovers I can squirrel away in plastic bags from GH's Thanksgiving (classy!), and lots and lots and lots of desserts. Will be bringing The Cheeseball and a pumpkin pie made from my very own puree.

Things I'm thankful for this year:

This is actually a pretty long list, and I'll try to condense it a bit. Sorry to make you gag, but you knew #1 was going to have to be . . .

#1 Gentleman Husband. Last week (seriously, don't read this if your eyes can't take the rolling) I had the thought that maybe the last 8 months were actually part of some stress-induced hallucination, and one morning I was going to wake up back in L****, alone, freezing, working at a job that was slowly killing me, and not seeing what was right in front of me. But so far we're good!

#2 My job. Not only was it a complete miracle that I got hired as quickly as I did, but three weeks after I started they announced a hard hiring freeze that affected just about every library within the Salt Lake Valley. I barely made it in there, and if I hadn't it would have been next to impossible to find anything after the freeze. And we would have starved to death wrapped in newspapers.

#3 My brother Dave is coming home from Afghanistan next month, in time for Christmas. This is his second tour of duty (he already went to Iraq for over a year) and he'll likely have one more before he gets out. We love him so much and are so grateful he's been kept safe all this time (pretty sure his sweet wife's even more grateful).

#4 My family. I've never had so many people nearby to share Thanksgiving with before. Back in college it was always just me and whoever else was still around. Which did, though, make some of the best Thanksgivings, like the time Lady Steed and I decided to throw one our own dang selves and were so pleased with how everything turn out. Audra, you came over that year too, right?

#5 My food assignment for today. We have to bring 4 bottles of soda and a bag of ice. Awesome.

Have a great weekend, everybody!

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At least I lived to tell the tale

Went to the 8-hour benefits training thingie for my new job yesterday. By the time I left I'd lost all will to live. Here were the highlights:

"Now that you are an employee of [this public governmental organization], you represent [this public governmental organization]. So all your friends and family will be coming to you for answers to their questions about how government works. (Yeah. Only, see, my family and friends don't talk about lame stuff, thank you. Also we have the Internet.) For this reason, we will now spend 3 hours explaining the executive and the judicial branch with the use of this flip chart, which you will undoubtedly remember from 2nd grade math."

The instructor was talking about different Utah towns and wrote Toole on the board by mistake. Then corrected herself: "Wait a minute, sorry, Tool doesn't spell Too-ill-uh." She fixed it by adding an e. (Tooele.) Yeah . . . only that doesn't really spell it either, see. I love (read: hate) this about Utah. Ask me sometime how Mantua is pronounced. (Hint: it rhymes with Ban-oh-way. Also? I hear its residents are cannibals. That's just what I've heard. Hey, like any of them will (can) read this.)

We got to watch not one but two videos about harrassment and ethics in the workplace. They were about as professionally done as the one Michael Scott had to watch in that episode of The Office.

We had some of the usual characters in the group. There was Front-Row Guy, and there was Aggressive, Tough, Somewhat-Hostile girl. They were not a good combination, since ATSHG was ready to kill FRG by the end. So were we all, but she was the one who actually threatened to do it, right in the middle of the life insurance portion of the day. Because here you had Front-Row Guy, doing what a Front Row Guy does. He asked questions every 5 minutes, restated everything the presenter just said, and kept asking hypothetical questions that absolutely did not apply to him, just to make our lives worse--questions like, "I see this chart only lists the health insurance premiums up to the employee plus two beneficiaries. What if you have more than two beneficiaries?"

DUDE. You are single and you work 20 HOURS A WEEK. STOP TALKING NOW or I will let ATSHG go to town on you with her acrylic nails.

Then ATSHG got increasingly antsy and started not only threatening to kill FRG but also telling the 401K representative that his stock-buying analogy was "retarded." At the break the moderator pulled her aside to tell her she wasn't allowed to say "retarded" in class.

We were asked how many of us have enrolled in direct deposit for our paychecks. We raised our hands and the moderator instructed a volunteer to hand us all a shiny little pin with the [public governmental organization] logo on it. I put my hand back down. She said this was to reward us, and to motivate those who haven't already signed up for direct deposit. Since you know those non-direct-depositors were just kicking themselves right then. Seriously, who do they really think they're fooling with that crap? That's like the time I worked for the Lord's University and we were given polo shirts with the department logo on them and told that we get to wear them on Fridays, as sort of a casual Friday kind of thing

"Cool, we get casual Fridays now?"
"Yeah, only we're calling it Promotional Friday."
"But we get to wear jeans, right?"
"Well, no. But you get to wear this nice polo shirt!"
"Then how is that casual?"
"Well if you're a guy you don't have to wear a tie."
"But I'm NOT a guy."
"Well . . . "
"So this is actually MORE dress code, not less."
"Just take the shirt."

And my friends and loved ones will tell you, those were some hideous shirts. Especially since every year they put MEN in charge of picking them and they inevitably picked something that belonged on a safari jeep and not on an attractive Singleton whose coloring does not support oatmeal-barf-colored apparel. Also there was the one that looked like a NASA shirt (post 9/11, navy blue with American flag patches all over.) Those were my two faves. But I loved how employers try to pretend like this stuff is a privilege or reward. If someone walked up to me and slapped a bumper sticker on my forehead, do you think I'd mistake it for a present? I promise I wouldn't. (Unless it was a bumper sticker that said "There'll be no butter in hell!" I'd wear that.)

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Watching the presidential debates right now

They make my ears bleed. I don't know what to think or feel. So I'm taking a break to blog. And to report that tomorrow I'll be having me a sober Oktoberfest. A Soberfest, if you will. This, to me, is a perfect plan, because it involves all good things:

1. Getting outside. It can be hard sometimes to persuade GH that it might be a good idea to not sit in the living room with the blinds drawn and to instead go outside and be children of light.

2. Fall leaves. It's up at Snowbird, which should be gorgeous.

3. Lederhosen. Because that's hot.

4. Bratwurst. Also hot.

5. Celebrating the Land of my Birth. Check me out rockin' some German wear of my own back in the day.


Maybe I'll see some of you there! I'll be the one mauling a bratwurst while avoiding the zany clown. (The website says they have one. I don't do clowns. And to me "zany" means "will be waiting for you in the sewers later".)

(image from Snowbird website)

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Our State Fair is a Great State Fair

Hello friends, I'm sorry about the neglect. But apparently some of y'all have been working The Secret on my behalf, because suddenly there are all kinds of updates on the job front. I started my new part-time job Tuesday, had another interview at THE Library Wednesday, and got a call today about subbing with the SLCo system. Please keep visualizing success for me, it's clearly overcoming my own skepticism and eye-rollery!

I owe you Fair Fotos (like what I did there? Yeah, those Fetal Foto people wish they were first) and here they are. It was a marvelous time, not only because I learned that my state of residence is home to the kind of people who would order themselves a baby alligator off the Internet to keep as a pet and then, when it becomes big and scary and no zoo or pet store will take it, decide that they have no other option but to release it into the Jordan River. True story. The reptile man told me. Lucky for all the wading children, the guy's roommate called Fish & Game before the intended release.

Anyway. Ph(F)otos.

I still want a goat. Just look at this spotty guy! Much cuter than the (no lie) 850lb pig which was the size of a baby elephant and had a head the size of my rocking chair. I did not get its picture, mostly because I did not want to anger it and cause it to break through the barriers and take me in its jaws.

I did, in fact, get my deep-fried peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. Along with about every other thing the fair was selling. (Note: The corn on the cob was disgusting. Do not ever buy it. Or, if you must have it, I'm sure I can pull some corn out of the trash, heat it up in the microwave, and douse it with I Can't Believe It's Not Butter and feed it to you. And I would only charge you $3 instead of the Fair's $4. What a savings!)

So yes. The DFPB&J. It was pretty much Hot Fresh Sin on a Stick, plus melted peanut butter. Kind of amazing and wrong in all the right ways. It's not something I could eat more than once a year (lying here, I totally could and would) but it definitely hit the spot. They'd better be back with those next year if they know what's good for them.

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Then you may take me to the fair

You may remember how much fun the State Fair was last year. Last year it was all about the deep-fried Snickers bars. This year they've rolled out the Deep-fried Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich.

I KNOW.

Apparently that's the longest line at the fair this year. Which is to be expected, since they actually put out a commercial this year promoting the things.

I'm going tonight with GH and a couple of friends. Here are the things I'm most excited about:

The Ferris Wheel, which I may or may not make out on (depends who I'm sitting next to, I suppose)

The baby goats and lambs, even if Cicada won't be there this year to Whisper them into docility.

The dfpb&j lines, during which time I will make mental judgments about the other people in line for the dfpb&j. (Note: must remember to do rides BEFORE the dfpb&j, not after. The fair will thank me.)

NOT going on any kind of haunted thing, not matter how big the GH's Bambi Eyes get. I just can't do that crap. Last night I watched the pilot for that new J.J. Abrams show Fringe and of course had nightmares about people's faces melting off.

Anyway. Yay for State Fairs.

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Finally watched American Idol last night.

I managed to resist up until now, because I didn't actually care. And now can I just say how glad I am that it's over?

Yes, that David A is a cute, nice kid. But I will certainly not miss the incessant local news coverage wherein Murray, Utah residents gush about their belief that "David Archuleta represents Murray so good."

It's "so well," Murray residents. So well.

Please don't let us speak of this again.

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O come let us adore them

I'm sure you've been waiting anxiously for pictures of my babies. Here are a couple:

The daffodils are also starting to peek their way up, which is very exciting. This is quite possibly the first time I've planted something that might actually live and thrive. The fact that I don't touch them with my black thumbs ever again after the planting might help.

That purple crocus has the heart of a champion, I tell you. Let's hope they all have them, considering things like this morning's ground cover:

And now that you've very nicely admired my frostbitten babies, I'll bring out a special treat for tomorrow. It's well past time for a post about the dating. Mark your calendars for Friday, everyone, because I'm going to need your input.

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Things I've been doing instead of making the sweet love to the Internet

Please note that I did not say "making the sweet love on the Internet," which is something that I neither do nor encourage. And if you try it in my library you will Feel the Wrath.

Knitting. I've been a knitting fool, y'all. It's just so darn addicting! And I love having something new and better to do with my Ritalin-candidate fingers. Because this way I can say, "Hello, I was watching a movie the other night and while I watched I made you these darling fingerless gloves in blue. Enjoy!" instead of "Hello, I was watching a movie the other night and noticed at the end that I had no fingernails left. I gathered them up though and put them in this baggie. Enjoy!" Also, it turns out I can knit in the car! And it doesn't make me carsick! So now I have something to do when I'm a passenger instead of shutting my eyes so that I don't accidentally read billboard text and immediately throw up everywhere.

Here's that purple Cheeto poncho I mentioned. It turned out fine but the one in the book seemed a lot more hole-y. Will have to play around with the pattern next time.

Spending Easter with the Precii. Yeah, I know you're jealous of me. And it's okay. I would be too. Ethan decided that he will be adding jam & cream-cheese coffee cake to his Foods I Will Eat list (currently containing 8 items).

And then I may or may not have eaten his face off because I had No Earthly Choice, people.

Savvy helped me with the deviled eggs and loved them. Because she is possibly my secret love child.


Getting all hopped up on spring. I now have 2.5 blooming crocuses in my yard. Expect pictures soon. I check on them multiple times a day and croon loving thoughts to them. And so help me if any of the neighbor kids so much as touch my flowers I will beat them with their own scooters. L**** is pretty well on my crap list for its winters, but they almost make up for it with all the baby animals you see running around in the spring. They even have Baby Animal Days. This is where the geniuses at the American West Heritage Center put baby lambs and bunnies and piglets all in one place and you get to hold them all and then your heart explodes right there and you die. It's going to be awesome.

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