bend in the river....

I realize that this post is long overdue. (And no, I'm not talking about the vacay to Greece.... Although if I wait much longer to post that adventure, it will be nearly obsolete as well.) In October, my good friends (Jed, Erin, and Teri) and I took a little pilgrimage to Nauvoo for a weekend. And since I'm sure that no one wants to read the weekend play by play, I think a little top 10 (although still lengthy) will suffice.

1. A trip through America’s Heartland.

I do love me a big city, but I also love the wide expanse of the Midwest, especially in the fall. The beauty of the extensive corn fields is unmatched and the grandeur in the wide open space is unparalleled. The Midwest has a style all its own, and every few years, I itch to go back. As we drove the 5.5 hours from Kansas City to Nauvoo, I couldn’t have been happier… blasting the ipod, grilling Jed for personal information, and taking in the abundant scenery.

2. A stop in Far West

Someday I would love to own a ranch outside of Far West, Missouri. It looked like the most picturesque place to have a big white barn, a smattering of horses, and a family Thanksgiving party of gargantuan proportions. Something Martha Stewart would even be proud of…. We stopped at the temple site in Far West for a few minutes. It was FREEZING cold. And since I’m a desert rat, and am severely affected by the cold, I could hardly concentrate on what the others were saying. After we got back in the car, we drove down an obscure dirt road to find the old Far West cemetery. Jed had a book that gave us directions… And I’ll tell ya, there is nothing there but a field of grass, so who would know if we found it or not. At that point, the sun came out to play, so Teri and Erin jumped out of the car to snap a couple of shots. After a few minutes of photographic journaling, Teri ran screaming back to the car leaving Erin standing confused by the side of the road. What caused the sudden outbreak? A skunk. And it was running away from where Teri had just been standing. Lucky for all of us, she didn’t get sprayed. That would have made for an interesting 5 hour journey…

3. Arriving at Susan’s house late that night and not being able to find the sheets.

There were a few minutes there where we thought we were going to have to drive back into Keokuk to Walmart at 11:00 pm to pick up some sheets. But, as it turned out, Erin saved the day and looked in the secret closet hidden behind the bathroom door. Plenty of sheets to go around. Susan’s place was amazing. What a great friend she is… The trip wouldn’t have been possible without her generous offer.

4. Running the flats

I hadn’t run since the half marathon in August. I had a minor injury to my knee after that half marathon, and I was trying to heal it up. But the first morning in Nauvoo, as the sun was coming up over the flats, Teri, Erin, and I laced up and went for a run. Ok, so we walked more than we ran. In our defense, it was really cold, but there is no better way to reacquaint oneself with Nauvoo, than on foot, in the quiet morning hours as the sun casts long shadows on the grass.

5. LDS Nauvoo Visitors Center

Back in the day, when I was a freshman in college, I went to Nauvoo with BYU’s travel study program. I will never be able to explain the lasting impact those 3 months have had on my life. I’m sure there are words to describe, but none I’m going to illustrate here. Just know that it was life altering and it still stands as one of the best experiences of my life. There were only 43 of us that semester. (Students, that is.) It was in 1996 before CES even knew the program existed. Because it was a small program, semi-obsucre, and only the 2^nd year of its existence, we were able to stay in the old homes down on the flats of Nauvoo. I, and my 5 roommates, lived in the David D. Yearsley house built in 1843 and it still stands as the tallest residence in Nauvoo. As if that wasn’t great enough, we also got to attend class in the LDS Visitors Center. Going back there releases a flood of memories. The Visitors Center was our first stop in Nauvoo after our morning run. We wanted to see the Nauvoo video (called Remembering Nauvoo) that they play. Since it wasn’t going to start for another hour, the missionaries asked us if we wanted to see the Joseph Smith movie (the one playing in the Joseph Smith Memorial Building in SLC). I had never seen it and since the other vidoe wasn’t playing yet, we ventured in. I know I’ve cried that hard before. I know I have. But I can’t remember the time. When it finished and the lights turned on, I turned to Teri and Jed, pointing at my face, and said, “Really?” You know when you hear something that just hits home for you at a particular moment? Yeah….

6. Eating

I can eat. And as I’ve mentioned before, I have no sweet sensor. Teri told me that she didn’t really believe me when I said I could eat. Well, folks, I’m here to tell you that she is now a believer. Maybe it was the fact that I ate ¾ of a large bag of peanut butter M&M’s in one sitting (the only reason I didn’t eat the whole thing was because I shared it with everyone else.) And the fact that I couldn’t stop eating the tiny ginger cookies we picked up at the bakery. Or maybe it was the 3 bowls of taco soup for dinner not including the chips and quac. But I don’t think her opinion had anything to do with the fact that I ate an entire POUND of fudge in 2 days time. ½ peanut butter fudge, ½ chocolate. Sigh.

7. The Temple

Saturday activity. And the interior of that temple is like no other. What can I say, it’s a place of peace. In every sense of the word.

8. Rendezvous in Old Nauvoo

I’m pretty sure this little theatrical performance has been around since the vanguard company left Nauvoo in 1846… It’s a classic, and one you can’t miss if you make the trip to that particular bend on the Mississippi. The performing missionaries may change, but as far as I’m concerned, the entertainment value never will. There is something so wholesome in their amateur dramatization. No matter the cast, its always good for many laughs.

9. Running through the corn

Corn fields abound in the Midwest. That’s no secret. And haven’t you ever wanted to run through a corn field? It seems the perfect resume builder for any upcoming movie role…. So, that’s what we did. Teri sat in the car and took pictures, while Erin, Jed, and I had a race through the corn. As Erin says: “It was all fun and games until Jayna yelled, ‘Children of the corn!”




10. Hanging out with friends
Without a doubt, the best part of any trip is found in the travelling companions. This particular excursion had plenty of laughs, hours of great conversation, and moments of comfortable silence. Throw in some fantastic scenery and a few endearing memories, and that’s what I call a vacay.

“You people and this place make me better than I was before.”

From High Hopes and River Boats

Photos courtesy of Erin

preview

just a sneak peek of where i spent a little bit of my november.... these are 2 pictures of where we stayed.

full post to come....

the view from our patio.
santorini, greece

fish tales

And so, it’s another retrieval from the archives. Bear with me as I pull this one out of 1999.

That summer, while I was attending school, I was working for an emergency preparedness company. That meant I spent many hours in the middle of the mall at a kiosk, explaining water filter bottles and flint and steel fire starters to any and all who would listen. As the token college student on the roster of employees, I quickly learned that I would be scheduled for every holiday that particular summer. It then came as no surprise that I would be missing the first bbq of the season on Memorial day. All of my roommates and a good sized group of very fun people headed over to the park for a little Frisbee time and some potato salad while I took off for the mall.

When I walked in the door later that day, the roommates downloaded all the good times had at the bbq. Sweet. I don’t know about you, but I loved hearing about all the fun that I miss out on. I went upstairs to change my clothes and noticed something on my pillow. As I got closer, I could tell it was a Ziploc bag. Thinking that someone had brought me a treat, I reached out for it. And stopped. Mid reach. And yelled out one word. “sick.” On my pillow, sure enough in a ziploc bag, were 2 fish heads.

Gross.

On my pillow.

I realize they were in a plastic bag, but who knew what sort of fish guts were contaminating the outside of the bag… Not cool.

So I gingerly pick up the bag by the corner and walk it downstairs to PEALS of laughter from my roommates. (Jodi in particular). They go on to tell me that Danny and Soren thought it would be fun to put the 2 fish heads in the bag and leave it on my pillow.

I was so not impressed.

Neither was I convinced that Danny and Soren were the only 2 involved. Nonetheless, these girls were my roommates and that meant (in situations such as these) we needed to band together to conquer the enemy. Or it just meant that we needed to leave the boys with a little treat. (Because we were 21 years old and this is what you do at that age). We devised some plan to put the fish heads in a jar and leave them in their house. (Things like this weren’t hard because all of us often left our doors unlocked….)

If I remember right, it was me and Jodi who smuggled the fish heads into their house and left them on the kitchen table.

End of story.

Or so we thought.

A few days later, the manager of our condo came over to have us all sign new contracts for the upcoming year. As we are all hanging out around the table, Darby was on the phone that hung on the wall by the kitchen. Mid-conversation, Darby lets out a blood curdling scream. Once the scream had tapered off, she was speechless. She stood there pointing to the phone cord draped down by the wall.

2 fish heads. STRUNG ON THE CORD.

EW.

Now WE were speechless. Talk about awkward. Not to mention disgusting. Try explaining THAT one to the property manager. And keep in mind, by this time, those fish heads were a week old. And then there was that whole perplexity thing on exactly HOW those boys had time to get into our house and string them on the cord without our knowledge.

Whatever. This was war.

How were we going to top that one? A couple of weeks later, Jamie invited me to go to Lake Powell with her and her family. I aint one to pass up an invitation like that, so we went. Had a great time. Just don’t ask about the toothbrush situation.

Right before we headed home, we get this idea to commandeer a cat fish and keep it alive in a cooler all the way back to Provo. This was going to be our come back.

So we did. And that big ugly cat fish stayed alive and well in that cooler all the way home. Once we were home, we needed to get the guys out of their house. Ward prayer proved the perfect decoy. (Ward prayer… now there’s a blast from the past.)

Once the guys were all out of the house, Jamie and one of our other roommates went in. With the fish. The idea was to put it in the bathtub (you know, more comfortable for the thing.) But as it would turn out, there was no bathtub in the whole joint. They settled on the kitchen sink. Alas, it would have to do.

We wished there was a way to be able to see their reaction. But, as you can imagine, there was not. Instead, the anticipation nearly killed us.

Later that night, Danny came over to tell us that Sterling tried to pick up the fish and it slipped out of his hands and landed in the dishwasher. And chaos ensued. But Danny made it sound like Soren wasn’t too happy with the whole situation… But that did little to dampen our own spirits. We had won.

Or so we thought. Again.

About a week or so later, I was out and about (visiting some lame boy, no doubt) when I get a call on my phone. From Jodi. Asking me where I was. I told her and then she asked if I could come home and let her out of the house. My next question? “Let you OUT of the house?”

What?!?!

Apparently, Danny had come over and asked Jodi if she had any Neosporin or some other medical thing. Jodi replied that she didn’t but that if anyone had something like that it would be Andrea. So down the stairs she goes to find whatever it is Danny asked for.

When she came upstairs Danny was gone. And in his place? A duck. A real live (scared spitless) duck. It began running around pooing all over the carpet until it found the main floor bathroom and hid itself as best it could behind the toilet. The poor thing was scared out of it’s mind. Jodi went to the door to go after Danny only to find herself locked in. The guys had tied the door handle to the railing so she couldn’t get out. On both doors.

I was dying.

By the time I got home, the neighbors had been enlisted to free Jodi and she was outside on the front steps. The duck still behind the toilet. What on earth were we going to do with it? We emptied the newspaper basket and converged on the duck. After a lot of running back and forth, we managed to get the thing into the basket. We drove it to the BYU pond and let it go. There’s no real way of knowing if that duck was ever the same after that…

In any case, we surmised that the guys had won this war. Aside from staging a horse on their front lawn, we were fresh out of ideas.

Can you blame us?

love bug

Just a little collection of things I love… And things that bug.

Love:

my Ipod.

Bug:

when said Ipod isn’t workingand I have to enlist my much younger

nieces and nephewsto show me how to fix it.

Love:

desserts

Bug:

subsequent weight gain

Love:

a good book

(most recent love: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society…

a must read. It was fantastic.)

Bug:

when the library doesn’t even have one copy of the book AT ALL.

Love:

being able to drive. What freedom.

Bug:

when some moron pulls out in front you on the road.

And then they flip YOU off.

Love:

my cell phone

Bug:

my work cell phone

Love:

a French manicure painted on my toes

Bug:

having a gift card to a spa that charges $65 for a pedicure

only to find out that a French manicure isn’t even an option.

Love:

updated blogs

Bug:

when people don’t update their blogs very often. Ok, ok, that’s me.

Love:

summer

Bug:

when summer is cut short because of cold rain

for an entire month at the onset.

Love:

my feather duvet

Bug:

only being able to sleep for 3 hours straight at night

and then waking up at least 6 more times thereafter.

Love:

not having to work as much

Bug:

not having enough hours at work to pay all the bills

Love:

my new silver glitter nail polish

Bug:

my new hair cut (I’m getting it fixed)

Love:

a good movie with a good friend

Bug:

when the person behind me continues to kick my chair throughout the movie.

Love:

everything British

Bug:

not being able to afford a flat in London

And there it is...

What are your Love Bugs?

13.1

5:30 am. Running shoes tied. 5:45 am. Meet the girls. 6:00 Ipod set to shuffle. 6:01 am. Me, Erin, Ann. Fresh morning air and spectacular canyon views. It’s an amazing feeling to run 3 miles and at the end feel as though you have just walked out to get the mail. An even better feeling knowing that you aren’t stopping at 3 (you are actually going for 8 on this particular morning) and feel like another 5 could be done in relative comfort. And I’ll tell ya, I’ve never been there before in my life.

Gear up. This post is sure to be long.

Back in the day (highschool) I ran sprints in track for one year. Yeah, not my strong suit. There were plenty of short girls running those sprints and I’ll be honest, they were faster. They have shorter legs. Doesn’t take as much time to lift them off the ground and put them back down. Their legs don’t have as far to go. As for me, I have a 35” inseam. There’s a lot more to lift off the ground as it were. People typically think that a longer stride means a faster runner. That, my friends, is a lie. Just sayin. But it may be more true for distance than sprints. And I’m thinkin I may be built more for distance. Even though, (all jokes aside here) I actually don’t really enjoy running. It’s better outside, to be sure. But it took everything I had to commit to the training for the Provo River Trail Half Marathon.

A half marathon. Who would have thought.

Certainly not me. I’m one of those people who has never had a goal of even running a 5k, not to mention a half marathon. And a full marathon? Asinine. Hats off to those who do them, but it aint my scene.

In April, Erin asked me if I would run this half with her. And I told her yes. Before I had any time to think it through. (It’s better sometimes to just commit before questioning one’s ability to follow through). Now that I was committed, I was in it to win it. (ok, well maybe I was just in it to finish it, as the case was.)

Training started in May. In July, Erin and I ran our 10 mile, 11 mile, and 12 mile goals. Once we got to 11 and 12, the fun really started to wear off. And fast. But we finished.

During our 11 mile run, Erin turned to me and said, “During the race, if you feel like you need to go faster, just go.” I said, “Ok.” I told her that I could only go faster for about a minute and then I would be dead by the side of the road. She has a fantastic pace, that one. A few minutes later, I looked at her and said, “During the race, I’m not leaving you. We have trained together. We will finish together.”

During our runs, I am not a fan of stopping for long. We only stop 2 (maybe 3) times during those long runs and then only for long enough to eat a gu, drink some water, and walk for 2 minutes or so. We finished our 12 mile in about 2 hours and 15 minutes. (Which isn’t iron woman speed, I know, but for us, that’s a quick little pace.)

August 8, 2009. Morning of. Cold front moved through, so it was colder than it typically is. Arrive at the finish line to be bussed up to the start. Excitement on the bus: bus driver missed the turn off and we went 10 minutes out of our way only to have to turn around and retrace our steps. On a positive note, we got to stay on the warm bus longer. Also, as we were going up to the start, the bus pulled off the side of the road to make room for a retreating bus and we all thought we were going to tip over and fall into the river. That was real fun.

Once at the start we got to hang out in the FREEZING cold (no fires) for at least an hour. Standing around praying for the gun to go off. I was wearing a little running skirt and a sweater. I hate being cold. At 7:05, the gun went off.

And I gotta say, I’m more a fan of the open air and a solitary trail. It’s not easy running with 1000 other people, speeding up to pass, dodging other people’s feet. Those are the things that other racers live for. Again, not my scene. Too many people. That isn’t invigorating to me. It actually sucks my energy.

I let Erin set the pace. I turned on my new midgi green ipod shuffle and tried to keep up. Erin has the best pace of anyone I’ve ever run with. She’s constant and she keeps moving. She’s not too fast, she’s not too slow and she’s willing to push herself. I love it. She keeps me going. And this particular morning, she was cruising. After a half mile on the road, my body temperature began to heat up so I took off the sweater I was wearing and chucked it into the bushes. Couldn’t have cared less if I ever saw it again. (To kill the anticipation… I never did see that sweater again. Hopefully it’s blessing someone else’s life.)

Anyone who is a runner knows that there are good days and bad days. Days you feel like you could go for hours and days you just can’t seem to get your body to move… This particular day was a hard one for me. By mile 4 I was struggling. But I pushed and kept up with Erin’s rock star pace. Usually I was the one to not let us walk very much. But that morning I was praying that Erin would want to walk. I could have easily been happy walking a mile or so. After all, I just intended to finish the race, not win it. But Erin wasn’t having any of that. She kept me and Ann moving. Even on the uphill. It was only a mile, (and we walked the first 1/3 of it) but Erin picked up the pace again and we were back in business. By this time we were on mile 9. How was I going to make it?

On the last mile, I started to have trouble breathing. It seemed hard to get air into my lungs. And I couldn’t find a song that was motivating enough. Honestly, where is “Eye of the Tiger” when you need it. A small distance after the mile 12 marker (though I wasn’t certain of our exact point), as I was running along side Erin, I told her (in between many short breaths) that she would just have to leave me behind. That I didn’t think I was going to make it. She looked at me and said, “You can do this.”

I told myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other. We were almost there. I hoped more than believed. We had to be. I really didn’t know if I was going to make it. And then we turned a corner and suddenly the trail was lined with people. I heard Chris on the sidelines cheering us on. (Thanks Chris… you’re cheering couldn’t have come at a more welcome time.) And then I could see the finish line….

I grabbed Erin’s hand, we sped up and crossed the line. Together.

Nearly in tears, I turned to her and said, “Thank you. I could never have done that without you.”

A person could go their whole lives and not ever find a friend like her….

The time on the clock said: 2 hours 22 minutes. But our actual time (verified by the chips on our shoes) said 2 hours and 19 minutes.

Hey, I’ll take it.

Me and Erin

Finishing never felt so good. And the good news? I never have to do that again. But I’m a girl. Don’t be surprised if I change my mind….

for annabelle . . .

... here's to wishing you many happy adventures in Miami. I have always loved this... because it applies to so many facets of life... personally, geographically, and spiritually.

"We shall not cease from exploration,
and the end of all our exploring
will be to arrive where we started
and know the place for the first time."

The Little Gidding by T.S. Eliot

peals of laughter

While in Idaho, my Mom asked me to trim the back of her hair as it was getting too long for her to deal with. She just wanted me to cut it straight across. I (being no beautician) said I would do my best.

I mean, really, how hard could it be?

We went outside so as not to have little trimmings all over the bathroom. Gonna go ahead and relay our conversation as I proceeded to trim...

Me: "You know, Angela won't let me near the scissors after what I did to our barbie's hair back in the day."

Mom: (trying not to laugh) "You know, you probably shouldn't tell jokes while your cutting my hair." (She steps away from me so that I can't cut anything and starts laughing.

Me: (laughing so hard I can hardly stand up straight) "That wasn't a joke."

Peals of laughter from the both of us....

Man, I do love me a good chuckle. What a fun mom I have.

50 Shades of Green and a Peony

Went to visit my grand parents this weekend. In Idaho.

For a little afternoon adventure, we took a drive into the country. With all the rain they’ve been getting lately, it looked more like Ireland than it did the back roads of Idaho. And hey, I’m not complaining. As we passed the patchwork-esque fields, Grandma said, “It looks like there are 50 shades of green out there.” Sometimes, I’m so awe struck by the beauty of the earth….

I love visiting my grandparents. I have loved getting to know them now that I am all grown up and I feel like I can really appreciate them, the experiences they have lived, the stories they have told, and the legacies they will leave behind. Isn’t it inspiring to realize that one’s personality traits and interests can parallel that of one’s grandparents for so many aspects of life. Half the fun of getting to know them is realizing how much of myself I owe to them... For instance, my love of music, apple pie, and everything western. Not to mention the phenomenal sense of humor that both Grandma and Grandpa have… there are many times when we just sit and laugh.

My Grandpa has always loved music, in fact, he’s in a band. Oh yeah. There are times when I’m pretty sure that HE thinks he’s Johnny Cash, and to be honest, I aint gonna take that away from him. Who else gets to jam with their grandpa? I, on the violin, and grandpa on the guitar… singing his heart out to “Walk the Line”. And it’s not only country music that he loves, Grandpa digs western movies, fried corn, and his impressive collection of belt buckles. Never a dull moment.

Then there’s grandma. Both grandparents grew up without much luxury and still don’t even have a dishwasher. And Grandma is a pack rat. She loves to keep things and find other uses for them. Waste not, want not. That was how it was back then and it’s something she has always held onto, and to be honest, it’s something I adore about her. Packrat… that would be something that I’ve been accused of as well. In an effort to explain myself, I’ll just say that I hate to waste things if they can be used for something else. I love to make things with my hands, create things, learn things… there’s just too little time. Everything is destined for a finished product, but most of the time the project just doesn’t get done. In that way, Grandma and I are similar. Her love is sewing. And she’s darn good at it. (That’s the Idaho lingo comin out… you spend too many days up there and you too will start to sound like a native). She also loves to make things with her hands and usually has too many projects on the horizon than she can get too…

Then there’s the food. I’m a sucker for down home cookin. (It only seems appropriate to leave off the g). Potatoes fresh from the garden, fried corn, lima beans and ham, strawberry jam and the aforementioned apple pie. Great weekend. Enjoyed some good food, good company, and some great laughs… all the while catching the scent of one pretty pink peony as it graced the plastic vase on the dining table….

Peonies are my favorite.

battle of the bulge

Recently I’ve been figuring out just how much my metabolism is slowing down. I think we’ve all been there… And if you haven’t, get your seat belt on because your time is coming. That magical age where you start noticing if you don’t run a couple of miles for every cookie you want to eat, you’ll pay for it by muffin-topping (can that be a verb?) out of your pants.

It’s no secret… You get older and your metabolism slows down. And sometimes? It feels like it just goes ahead and stops altogether.

Total bummer. Gone are the days of the daily breakfast donuts. I have slowly tried to wrap my mind around the fact that I will have to work out for the rest of my life if I don’t want to buy a new wardrobe. And I’ll tell ya, it’s been a rough acquiescence. But I have found what works for me. My own little 30 day slim down. And when I’m on the 30 day slim down, I’m in the zone and I’m in it to win it. And that means no treats. The problem is, if I give myself an inch (and have some treats), I lose control and take 3 feet (and have LOTS of treats). I’m still trying to master portion control. Give me a break… sweets are my weakness…. It takes time to master these things.

But I’m not giving up. Even though sometimes I give in. And fall of the wagon, as it were. That happened a few weeks ago. Every week we have vendor meetings where we see new product. A great concept… and we end up seeing some amazing things. But the most amazing things we saw a couple of weeks ago were the donuts that one of the reps brought in.

I hate when they bring us treats.

Yes, I know, I love me a good donut. That’s the problem. Remember that time I was still trying to master that whole self control thing? Baby steps, people. And I did so well until about 12:30. Then the afternoon lull started to set in and those donuts were yelling at me from the box.

So I had 3. Yeah, I know. 3. Most people have a sweet sensor that kicks in after they’ve had 1 or 2. That same sweet sensor tells them that they will be sick if they eat any more (if they aren’t sick already).

See, now, I don’t have that.

It would seem that I have a stomach of iron and when it comes to sweets? I can definitely hold my own.

My mom told me that I need to get to the point where I can eat one donut and be ok. I told her that at no time in my life have I ever been ok with one donut. Then again, at no time in my life have I worried about my pants ever fitting this tight.

It’s time for change.

But recently I have been so enamored with baking. I have never been like this. Don’t even know where it came from, to be honest. There’s just something about creating a yummy dish and tasting it to see just how well it turned out….

The most recent recipe I had been wanting to try was my Aunt’s pan cookie delight. It had been years since I’d had it and I wanted to give it a go just to remember how yummy they were. So of course, when I got home (on donut Wednesday) I decided that since I was off the wagon, I may as well be really off the wagon and I whipped up a batch of pan cookies.

Yep, just as good as I remember.

And the dough was amazing. After I made them, I ate about 4 of the cookies. And then I stopped. (Even though I could have eaten that whole pan, I stopped.) I decided that eating the entire pan would be so not ok. So I dumped them into the garbage. Now, I know what’s in my garbage. On this particular night it was fairly clean (just some tortilla wrappers and things.) No nasty chicken or gross food… just some wrappers. And though I can’t recall a time when I have actually ever rescued a cookie from the trash and eaten it, the thought did cross my mind that I just MAY be tempted the next morning. (And I didn’t want to fill the cookie pan with water because that would have created a bigger mess). So I brought out the big guns.

I pulled out the bottle of 409 and sprayed the cookies in the trash.

There. Problem solved. Because now there was NO WAY I was going to even think about them after that.

Moral of the story? I’m thinkin I need a travel size bottle of 409…

fever

Never been much of a TV watcher. What can I say, there are too many other things to do.

Like take classes. To learn new stuff.

Back in the day I played the viola, took sewing lessons, swim lessons and jewelry making classes in school. College? There were so many options and so little time (ok, ok, so maybe there was plenty of time and that’s why it took me 7 years to get my bachelors…but just so’s you know, I had the best education experience ever… I’m just sayin). Those college elective classes included floral design, country dancing, photography, guitar and making that walnut dresser from rough-hewn 2 x 4…. And then there was that welding class….

A couple of years ago, I decided that I wanted to learn how to ride a motorcycle. So I found a class and learned. Wanted to learn how to ride English style on a horse (posting, cantering, tacking, and all), so I found a place that offered lessons and I signed up.

Told you. I’m what we’d call a class-taking nerd. Go ahead, laugh it up.

Recently has been no exception. In the last 2 years there’s been golf lessons, tennis lessons, harmonica lessons, water color, and an international cooking class.

So is it any surprise that a tap class was next?

You heard me. And it is hee-lar-i-ous. Barb, our 80-ish year old teacher, has the best freakin legs I’ve ever seen. She keeps us focused and we have fun. But don’t you dare try and get a sloppy shuffle ball change past her, or else she stops the class and you all get to do it by yourselves one by one. Talk about pressure.

So a couple of weeks ago, there were sign up sheets circulating around our ward for the ‘talent show’. Who signs up for those things anyway? Except Brooke. Who simply wrote on the sheet:
Who: A bunch of fun girls.
Talent: Something really neat.

That ought to bring out the crowds. Our ward Family Home Evening didn't know what was about to hit them. And with an introduction like that, what more could you ask for than a little performance by the “Girls On Tap”…

The performance, my friends, was a dang riot. Toe-tappin good times had by all, especially those of us sporting the fishnets and boas….

published-ish

It’s sometimes hard to explain what I do for a living. I know… it would seem a self-explanatory profession. And for the most part it is. But there is a side of it (and more often than not, this is the more prominent side) that isn’t as glamorous as my profession would sometimes appear. To be honest, I would gather that most people think all I do everyday is pick out expensive silk fabrics and arrange little piles of books on coffee tables with obscure accessories used for accent. This would not be the case. Yes, there are definitely times when I do pick out expensive silks and arrange little piles of books on coffee tables … but to paint a somewhat more realistic picture of what I do, I’ll go ahead and break it down. 85% paperwork, 15% design, 100% problem solving. As with any job, it has it’s highs and lows….

But at the end of the day, it’s the little things that make it all worth it…. Little things like great clients, the chance to use unique products, the joy of seeing your creation become reality and this:


This is our company ad in the style and design magazine here. It’s no Glamour, but you’ve gotta start somewhere, right?

And hey, I’ll admit, it’s kinda fun to see your work in circulated print…