Thursday, May 31, 2012

Poo On My Shoe

Memorial Day weekend is perfect, isn't it?

My day started with a text from my future brother-in-law, "Congrats to Dad for winning his age group today!  Heavenly Father also inspired Dad today and blessed us on this race.  It was awesome!!  He gave up his medal to a young handicapped man who was almost the last to finish...Britney and Mom waited to finish after him.  Thank you!!"  I am extremely proud of my family and blessed to be eternally attached to people with such kind hearts.

My father is a veteran.  As are both of my uncles and my grandfather's.  Whether someone is serving our country or fighting their own personal battles, I do take time to honor those who have gone on before us. 

I also take time to enjoy grilling, ultimate frisbee games, and basking in the glow of all of the wonderful things life has to offer.  Because the biggest honor we can give to a memory is to L-I-V-E. 

I found myself saying throughout the day, to various people, "Such a perfect day, isn't it?!"

Then I sat back and thought about the day - I'd had three cancellations of plans, I'd gotten dog poo all over my new gym shoes while playing frisbee, someone left a red scuff/paint dig on my new car, and I did chores for the better part of the day.

But the sun roof was back.  The tunes were flowing.  My heart was happy because I was appreciating all of the little things that make life grand and even the somewhat funny and discouraging things that help us to more grand things. 

Don't let a little poo on your shoe ruin your day:-)

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

My Boyfriend's Name is Gym

I go through gym bags like nobody's business. 

I needed something sturdier, more long-lasting, and, hey, while I'm at it, I'll go for cute too.  Kinda like a real man, right? 

That's when this Schleppbag from Trumpette entered my life.  Cute, ain't he?  The best part?  The inside-bottom of the bag is imprinted with, "My boyfriend's name is Gym." 


Sunday, May 27, 2012

Marital Confusion

On a similar note to my this post:

When did I reach the age that, when I am on a date with a man, the folks at all restaurants, sporting events, bowling alleys, what-have-you, automatically and without hesitation refer to "your husband" or "your wife?"

Friday, May 25, 2012


I have a general question for all of you readers out there in the blogosphere:

What are deal-breakers for you in relationships?

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Guest Post: Top Five Reasons Why to Date an Artist

Hi everyone!

My name is Melissa and this is my guest blog. In my heart I am a story teller and my blog is a collection of the good, the bad and the ugly stories that I have collected over the years. I met Larissa in the fall of 2009 when our stake was doing a musical and I volunteered to help with the costumes. Immediately I adored her. Since then we have become fast friends over a similar collection of people we love, and the Arts. It’s been awhile since Larissa invited me to be a guest blogger, but I finally found some inspiration this week…

Why should I date an artist?

Over the last week I overheard quite a few rants about why one should never date an artist. I fumed at their reasons. Their top reason? Money. Why? Because they (we) don’t have it, and in all realistic visions of the future we might never have it. Sigh. In my search to combat their asinine thoughts I read a “reasons to date an artist” but wasn’t impressed. So I have decided to make my own list. Not only as an artists point of view, but from one who has dated her fare share of artists. So here we go…

 #1. They are cheap dates. We’ll start with this one, as it seems to be their biggest downfall according to a majority of people. Truth is there is little money here. However the bigger truth is… they don’t need it. You don’t need to be wined and dined to be won over by artists. You see an artists’ creativity extends far beyond the canvas and you would only be lucky enough to experience this. At the very least they always know someone who can get you into places and meet people that will be hard to forget. All on a dime.

#2. They are passionate. You can’t go wrong with this term in any sense of its meaning. Whether referring to the sexual ideas behind being a passionate person or the strength in the ideals of working ones butt off for a cause you believe in—you win! They seek the thrills and chills of weak knees and a fast heart beat when you touch and they work hard if they believe in something, and if that is your relationship you better believe they won’t give up on it!

 #3.You will be part of the art. No matter what medium, you will become apart of it. Whether it is merely inspiration or you are blatantly the focus, you are the art. It is an honor to be an inspiration. Who hasn’t ever wanted a song written for them, a painting done of them or a performance dedicated to them? I have a friend whose wakes up to her husband composing music on the piano about his love for her. She is inspiring art and passion within her husband. One's relationship could not produce anything more beautiful than that.
#4. They love to have a good time! Artists lead exciting lives and with every new project there is something exciting on the horizon. Anything can and will happen. They have great stories and you will share in creating even more to tell in the years to come. Even if your relationship ends, you have epic dating stories. Additionally they find beauty in everything. If you are tired of being around negative people, date an artist.

 #5. They are smart. Artists soak in the world around them. The people, the places, the world. It becomes a part of who they are. For the projects they have worked on, they have done their research. They read. They write. They listen. They know what is going on the world. They are passionate people because they have done all of these things and are sincerely interested in the world. Interested in saving it, and interested in changing it one artistic moment at a time. Conversation will never lack with artists. Because of this they have extremely good taste in music, books, art, movies etc.

So don't be afraid of the passion or the heightened senses. Don't be afraid that you won't be taken to a steak house for dinner because chances are you will remember the homemade chocolates far longer. Artists will change your life for the better if you let them. So date an artist... but don't take my word for it... try it yourself.

Like Melissa's writing as much as I do (Larissa speaking now, obviously)?  Follow her blog here.  

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Ex Confusion

When did I reach the age that when someone talks about their "ex," I'm not sure if they mean "boyfriend/girlfriend" or "husband/wife?"

Monday, May 21, 2012

Midvale Main Street Theatre: On Golden Pond

Everyone is a critic.

We tend to believe there is an artform in proving our superiority through finding flaws.

But can't something just be good and can't we just enjoy it? 

When you whittle away all of the trivial elements, I find the most important reason I attend theater is this: to feel something. 

Midvale Main Street Theatre's production of On Golden Pond, a dramedy (drama/comedy) as directed by Eve Speer, made me feel.  Not just feel, actually, but sit back and analyze what my relationship with my family is like, what has changed us all throughout the years, and what brings us together. 

Golden Pond is the place to where Ethel and Norman Thayer (Mary Mason and E. Timothy Schomburg) retreat each summer, which includes wacky local postman Charlie Martin (Joe Dutson).  This summer, their daughter Chelsea (Jennifer Mason) decides she must return for her father's birthday celebration in spite of their strained relationship.  She brings along her fiancee and his son - Bill and Billy Ray (Marc Reading and Austin Heaton)-  in hopes of leaving the boy with her parents while she and Bill gallivant off to Europe.  When Chelsea returns, she is somewhat disgruntled at finding Billy Ray has the relationship with her father that she never had. 

The character interpretations are quite different (not in a bad way, just a different dynamic) than the classic film with Katharine Hepburn and Henry Fonda, which may or may not work for all audience members.  The marital relationship of Ethel and Norman seems quite like the mother and father from My Big Fat Greek Wedding where the man is humorously curmudgeonly, feisty, and somewhat chauvinistic in his feelings of superiority and stubbornness, yet we clearly see Ethel is the brains and teddy-bear heart of their life together.  I had a little bit of difficulty believing these two had been together for dozens of years, as Ethel almost seemed leery of physically touching Norman, but there was a playful banter (hence my reference to My Big Fat Greek Wedding) that worked and gave us a connection to the characters.   

Audience members will find themselves laughing at all of Norman's quips and one-liners, especially when he begins interacting with the young Billy Ray.  Ethel sings to dolls, talks to loons, and makes me laugh at how much she represents the silly things we've all caught our mothers doing.

Charlie Martin (Joe Dutson) had a contagious laughter and well-represented himself as the loveable town goofball, however I was taken aback in disbelief at how the put-together Chelsea could have dated him for 11 (or was it 12?) summers. 

Which brings me to Chelsea.  Jennifer Mason portrays her with grace and ballerina-esque poise.  You can see how she has this tension built inside that she wants to let go of, but somehow can't.  You see a glimpse of the loving, confident woman she has become when she lets go of the chip on her shoulder towards the end of the show when she is with her new husband in LA.  At first, I couldn't understand her interest in Bill Ray - he seemed too insecure and quirky.  But towards the end, you see how something about his unrelenting goofiness helps her feel safe with who she is.  The relationship still had me thinking, "Wow, he got the better end of that deal," but it worked....ish.  Jennifer's portrayal of Chelsea was the most convincing in the show for me, although I'm sure interacting on stage with her real-life mother brought a truth to her performance that is otherwise difficult to achieve. 

Perhaps the actors weren't all as experienced as one might hope, perhaps the scene changes weren't quick, perhaps a couple of the actors stole 4th-wall breaking glances into the audience, perhaps some of the chemistry wasn't as spot-on as other productions.  But those things don't make me enjoy the show any less.  On Golden Pond's script is crisp and enjoyable even standing alone.

A show is like a roller coaster.  You wait in line for an hour for your three-minute ride.  The climb up the first hill seems like it is the longest, but once you are in the ride, you enjoy every up and down, twist and turn.  Most shows take a little while to win you over - establishing characters, warming up to the audience, and developing plot points.  But once that initial climb is over?  You get the thrill you came for.

In On Golden Pond, that thrill, for me, is after intermission during an interaction with real life mother and daughter team Mary and Jennifer Mason - playing Ethel and Chelsea Thayer.  They share a loving banter that morphs into an argument, where Chelsea exclaims,  "It doesn't matter!  I act like a big person everywhere else.  I'm in charge of Los Angeles.  And I come here, I feel like a little fat girl!"

How many times have we returned home, only to feel as if nothing has changed?  Only to feel as if none of our demons have never been conquered?   Only to feel as if a once-damaged relationship with a family member can never be mended?  We feel stuck, almost as if things can't change.  I do not think it far-fetched to say that I am not the only one with whom these sentiments hit home.

Midvale Main Street Theatre has done an excellent job with providing our community with shows that many other theaters will not because they aren't the Disney-fied "family friendly" standards.  They also have formed a little community of their own - embracing all of their performers and audience members as family.  My heart was deeply touched to see photos on set of Kat Stoutsenberger, who recently suddenly and unexpectedly passed away.  I love the tribute to her and her amazing gift of talent with the small way of always keeping her on stage there in Midvale.  After the show, more audience members poured in for a night of improv with comedy troupe Quick Wits - which I highly recommend sticking around the theater for - you'll laugh your butt off.

This weekend is your last chance to see On Golden Pond - May 24-26th at 7pm - what a great summer show to ring in the season and set your hearts on the hopes of what the next few months hold for you.  You can purchase tickets here.  Quick Wits performs at 10pm on Friday and Saturday nights.

Friday, May 18, 2012

The Great Saunter: Changing my Life in New York City

Do you ever concoct a crazy dream for yourself?

There I was - on vacation, having a nice dinner on the pier in New York City when people with racing bibs started showing up, flopping over in pure exhaustion.   We asked, "What's going on?"  A participant responded, "The Great Saunter!  It's a one-day, 32-mile walk all around Manhattan's shoreline perimeter."  She answered several more questions and walked away, never knowing the mark she left on us.

That Saturday evening in 2006, a dream was born...a dream of one day completing The Great Saunter.

Silly, isn't it?  We are at a random place in a random city talking to a random stranger and all of a sudden I know there is something more I must do with my life.

But why walking 32-miles?  Why did I want to do this so much that for years the thought festered in the back of my mind?

Because of the fear that I couldn't.  Because of the fear that maybe some little part of me hadn't conquered the challenges I'd had with fitness.  Because of the fear that, in spite of all my efforts, these fit and fabulous feet could not carry me 32-miles in one day. 

What did I think this event would accomplish?

I would accomplish quashing my fears once and for all.  I truly felt that if I could do this walk, I could do anything.  I knew that, as my feet returned to the South Street Seaport, my life would be changed forever.

In October, I wrote my father an e-mail and told him I planned on going to New York the first weekend in May for The Great Saunter and I wanted him to accompany me.  He was thrilled, agreed immediately, and the next thing I knew the entire family wanted to participate.  I can honestly say I never saw that one coming.

I'm pretty sure my non-stop rambling about my fears, concerns, and physical training schedule had most of my friends ready to slap me across the face.  It seems as if I was the only one concerned about my ability to finish this event.  Isn't that true with most things in life, though?  Seems as if those who love us have so much more faith in us than we have in ourselves.

After months of flight scheduling, hotel booking, and general stressing-out, May 5, 2012 arrived.  As I shut the door to my room in the Doubletree Financial District, I thought to myself, "The next time I enter this door, I will be a different person.  I will either be a success or a failure."  Although, truth be told, I knew I was going to do whatever it took to finish, failure was not an option and not really in my vocabulary as applies to my goals.  Even if I had to crawl I was going to finish those 32 miles.

We arrived at the South Street Seaport and Heartland Brewery just in time for the 7:30 am start, although we didn't leave right away because we didn't realize there was no offical "start," just a "take off whenever you feel like sauntering."  A Yankees store was also near, and I took this as a good omen, as many of my friends are huge had to be a good omen, right?

7:44am: We followed the troupe of about 1,000 walkers southwards towards Battery Park.  My thoughts?  "Here goes nothing..."   

8:37am: A few miles in, we were all smiles and laughs.  Although the weather was overcast, our spirits were not and we were enjoying this once-in-a-lifetime family adventure together.

9:36am: Somewhere between the last photo and this one, my mother, who is very ill, decided to head back to the hotel.  She made the first five miles of the journey with us.  No one expected her to make it even that far.  We were all so very impressed and proud of her.
This photo was potty break time for me.  My lil sis, Brit, thought it time to start stretching.  Her choice of stretch humored me so, I made her hold the pose.  Would you believe that squirt n-e-v-e-r exercises?  So. Not. Fair. 

Right after the stretching, we encountered The Intrepid - a military aircraft carrier of epically huge proportion. 

10:30am: We were 1/4 of the way through the walk and not a bit winded, fatigued, or ready to stop in any way.  We found ourselves along the island's west side near Riverside Park.  You may remember it from films such as You've Got Mail.  If you ever have the chance, I'd highly recommend taking the few hours to make this portion of the walk - I like to saunter this path every time I visit NYC. 

10:55am: My older sister Shanda turned around to laugh with me about my dad's super-skinny spandex-clad legs.  You rock it, Dad!  Seriously, he turned 62 two days after this trip.

11:20 am: Speaking of my dad, he got really excited and said, "Riss!  Stop!  Do you have your camera?"  Next thing I knew, he was climbing up this tube right outside this amazing little grocery store, Fairway,  on the waterfront.  That's my dad!  We stopped in the store for some small treats to hold us over until the half-way point where there was allegedly a farmer's market where we could by lunch.  We wish we knew what other walkers clearly knew as we saw them walking out of Fairway with bags full of food - the farmer's market was a joke with only pastries, fresh-cut raw meats, and bug infested fruits.  If any future Saunterers are reading, do yourself a favor and buy your lunch at Fairway.

11:55am: George Washington Bridge, Ahoy!

12:20pm: The Little Red Lighthouse is Manhattan's only remaining lighthouse and has a very cute history.  

12:40pm: As hungry as our bellies were, we couldn't resist but take a few minutes to marvel at the view along the Hudson River Trail. 

1:56pm:  We paused a lot longer than we should have for lunch - mainly nursing our wounds (sore feet and disappointed bellies).  I ended up with a hot dog.  From a woman who couldn't speak English.  And thought "onions" meant "Sauerkraut."  Then thought "No, no - onions," meant "creepy-looking red sauce."  I don't know what it was, but I ate it.  And it was disgusting.  Who wants a mystery-smothered hot dog after walking 16 miles?  Pick me, pick me!

We changed our socks, applied the miraculous trislide (some of us *cough*Dad*cough* where I would rather not know), and trudged forward.  The north end of the island, otherwise known as Inwood, is the hilliest part, so the get-up-and-go wasn't as fast to come as it had been at the beginning. Notice my sister is wearing a Bob Marley shirt?  Yeaaaaahhhh...she obviously didn't think about the fact that we'd soon be walking through Harlem, yo. 

Now, here is where the walk got a little frustrating.  The upper-most east-side of the island is not conducive to shoreline walking, which meant trudging through parts of Harlem I would never want to walk through alone.  All of us Saunterers stuck pretty close together whilst feverishly looking for a place that looked safe to stop for a drink or use the restroom.  No luck.  And no one wanted to stop anyway, for the fear of losing the rest of the group.  You know how you have an afternoon slump in the middle of the work day?  I'd say the hours of 2pm-5pm were the worst.  I have no desire to walk that stretch again.  Ever.  But out of all that walking, a mere 3-hour stretch to avoid is peanuts.  The three hour stretch with no place to use the restroom?  VERY frustrating.  Was there a restroom at the lunch break park?  Oh yeah, with ZERO toilet paper and a line about 30 minutes long.  Gross.  Some nice car dealers finally hooked us up as we were almost out of Harlem and almost out of our minds. 

3:15pm: I'm not sure what this building is, but I wanted to document our journey, so I kept taking photos.  Somewhere around this point, Shanda and Andy decided to take off.  Their goal had been to complete half of the 32 miles and they'd completed 22 before they regained their sanity.  I was sad to see them go, but couldn't have been more happy to have had them as long as I did.

3:43pm: Our fellow Saunterers were taking photos and methinks, "What is going on that is so exciting on this street corner?"  Bam.  Yankees Stadium.  Excitement duly noted.

4:25pm:  Still in Harlem.  Isn't this exciting?  Beautiful graffiti artwork though, I must say.  We knew we were soon to emerge from the dregs, so our spirits began to perk up.  That, and the fact that right before this photo was when the car dealership let us "refresh" ourselves with the facilities and cold, filtered water in my camelbak (shout out to Shayla for letting me borrow her camelback!).  And the fact that we had a chance encounter with Mister Softee and his soft serve deliciousity.  Yum. 

5:38pm: Brit was about to fall over, but knew she could make it to the "marathon mark" as we kept referring to it - 26.2 miles (which was really 27.2 because we'd walked a mile to get to the starting point).  Brit never had intended to finish all 32 miles of this walk, but when you make it 26.2 miles and realize you only have 5.8 miles to go, you can't shake the thought, "I'm an idiot if I stop now!"  To celebrate our 26.2 feat and throbbing feet, we took some fun photos and snacked on beef jerky.

6:51pm: Isn't the United Nations building iconic?  Not so much without the flags flying.  Around this point, my body started to rebel.  My hips were aching in weird places, my calves felt as if fingers were poking them, and the bottoms of my feet felt bruised.  I couldn't believe how different I felt from miles 26 to miles 28.   I also had this sinking, suspicious feeling as I walked this part of town that I'd walked so many times before, "We are way more than four miles away from finishing.  The walk is supposed to be 32 miles.  Maybe I'm off.  That's it.  I have to be off somehow."  Brit found herself almost in tears with some mammoth blisters, some of them popping, so we took a break to moleskin her up and do our best to mentally prepare her for the last four or five miles. 

7:21pm: Brit and Matt (her fiancee) had begun to slow down so substantially that Dad and I could not bear to walk so slow and would have to stop for a few minutes every now and again for them to catch up.  Hence the photo, I like to call, "Sealed with a kiss."   Alas, only two miles left, right?  Wrrrrroooonnnngggg!

7:54pm: My father is a fitness buff.  And he has the world's most accurate pedometer.  Maybe not, but pretty darned close.  I'd been regularly checking up on our progress.  Mile 32!  Finished!  But wait, what was this?  A baseball field?  This is not the South Street Seaport!  What's going on?
Can I tell you how emotionally defeating it is to know you have accomplished your goal of finishing  32-miles, yet knowing you have not finished the event?  We had no idea how far from the finish we truly were.  We knew it couldn't be more than three miles, but after you've walked 32, three seems like thirty.  This photo was me after saying, "Hey, Dad, take a picture of me where we were supposed to be finished."

8:12pm:  Ah ha!  A light at the end of the tunnel!  That there highway sign tells us it is one mile to the Brooklyn Bridge - our starting/finishing point.

8:25pm:  There she is!  In the distance, that bridge is she of the Brooklyn.

8:27pm:  Even closer!  You know that feeling when it is all you can do to move your feet one step at a time.  My thoughts pretty much went that way - "One more step, one more step, one more step."

8:42pm: FINISHED!!!!   Our total mileage for the official Great Saunter portion of the day was 34 miles exactly.  Shanda and Andy were at the Seaport waiting for us.  The sound of their cheers and congratulations when we finished was one of the sweetest memories I could ever ask for.

10:10pm: Back at the hotel, checking out whatever damage occurred - my only war wound was that one lil blister under my second and third toes.  Not bad!  37 miles in one day!
But check out just one of about ten blisters on my lil sis's feet.  Gross. I cannot say how shocked I am that she finished...but moreso than shocked I am busting with celebration for her.  She did something so few ever could.  Especially those who never exercise, that little booger. 

Lastly, our journey would not be complete without a proper celebration at the end.  What did I choose?  Banana pudding from Magnolia Bakery, of course! 

Now: How was the recovery? 
The next morning, I was a bit achy on my feet bottoms because of the type of Chinese water torture I'd put them through, but not sore at all muscularly.  In fact, we walked somewhere between 10-15 miles throughout the day of me playing tour-guide with the fam.  By Monday morning (aside from Brit's blisters), we all felt fully recovered. 

Now: How do I feel about the accomplishment?
Not like I thought I would.  Before the walk, I would practically tear up thinking about how proud of myself I would be for finishing - how much I would conquer and overcome.  Then I did it.  I DID IT!  The truth is it really wasn't that difficult.  This monster of an obstacle I'd built up in my mind?  Non-existent.  Sure the last six miles of the 34 were rough, but I've felt worse.  The whole experience seems surreal.  Did I really do it?  No way has that thing that's been festering in the back of my mind for six years been successfully overcome - that was too easy.

Then I really make myself sit back and think about this.  I walked 37 miles in one day and I felt great.  If that's not conquering those fears I had, I don't know what is.  Not only did I complete The Great Saunter, but I passed with flying colors.

I ripped out my fear, threw it on the ground, then stomped on it for 37 miles

You should too.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Pamphlets: A Picture Paints a Thousand Words

You know how a picture is worth a thousand words? 

There is no way to describe this one.

Except to say that I think my favorite is, "The Abstinence Quiz."  I never opened it, but I imagine the inside looks like this:
Question 1: Are you having sex?
The end.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Exercise to Avoid Getting Sick!

To hold you over until I have more time for the good stuff...

Sometimes I take photos of things I find amusing and want to blog about, but then I just find random photos and think, "Hmm...what was I thinking?"

I found a photo where I remembered what I was thinking.

You know my theory regarding how I am so sure that working out keeps me from getting sick (see number 8 on the list)?  Check out this little stat from Shape magazine!  I am right!

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Blogging is Tough!

I have so many things to tell all of you. 

So many adventures in NYC were had.

I accomplished a life-changing goal.

I want to tell you all about everything!  Alas, catching up on work and friends and more-than-friends takes some time:-)

Coming soon!  I promise!

Monday, May 14, 2012

Living with the Old People

I live in an area of town that is predominantly occupied with retirees. 

Yep, they know all my coming's and going's and what I wear and who I go on dates with.  What else is there to do when you are retired besides spy on your young neighbors? 

So, it really was no shock to me when the latest community newsletter arrived at my door.  The HOA published, in paper, the results of a survey they took when considering implementing an e-newsletter.

Looks like almost 50% of my neighbors never use e-mail and 85% either sometimes or never use e-mail.  Can you imagine?  I found this little golden nugget and had to share to help give you all a better understanding of the seriousness of the situation when I talk about where I live.  Too funny.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

Out of the Way, Little One

You know those awkward moments when you turn a corner and there you stand, face-to-face with another being.  You do a little dance, make a little awkwardness, get outta the way. 

Does anyone else always feel like they are always the one expected to get out of the way?  I've been paying more attention to this lately because it happens at my office at least twice for every time I get out of my seat. 

Why, just the other day, I had to literally walk backwards for more than a few steps because someone was coming towards me in a narrow space.  For whatever reason they expected me to move.  Never you mind that if they had stopped in their tracks when they first saw me, I could have made it to my destination without consequence.  I can't quite figure the logic behind that one.  "Well, she's coming towards me and I'm coming towards her.  Instead of both of us stepping to the side slightly or me just pausing for two seconds, I will make her walk backwards for ten steps - that would be the easiest and most amusing option for me." 

Clearly, I know that was not the thought process, but what could it possibly be?

I've tried to stand more firm recently.  And I really have come to the painful conclusion that people apply the same philosophy in-person as they do in cars, "I'm bigger.  You get out of my way."   Is there some defacto law that states that the bigger person always has the right-of-way?

Be kind to us shorties.  We are human too. 

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

I'm Getting Grey Hairs Just Listening To You

Some days are just stressful.

And on those days, have you ever noticed that it isn't typically just one thing that does you in, but almost as if the snowball turns into an avalanche?  Like you run into a wall, so then you drop something, but when you bend over to pick it up, you spill your water everywhere, so you quickly stand up, only to hit your head on something, but as you reach up to hold your aching noggin,' you fling your cup and hit the cat with the flying cuparoni.*

I was having one of those days at work a couple of weeks ago and a co-worker said to me, "Whoa, whoa, whoa!  Slow down!  I'm getting grey hairs just listening to you!"

He made me stop and think for a moment.  Did any of these things really matter?  Are any of those things going to change the course of my life? 

What I do with my day better be amazing because I only have one chance to live each moment.  Worrying about a problem is not going to do anything to change the situation.

Life happens.  I want to make the most of it...which does not include creating grey hairs.

*This is not based on actual events

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Life as a Play

Your life is like a play with several acts. Some of the characters who enter have short roles to play, others, much longer. But all are necessary, otherwise they wouldn't be in the play. Embrace them all, and move on to the next act."

- Wayne Dyer

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Today is a Life-Changer

Today, I am doing something life-changing.

If I can finish what I start today, I am confident that I can accomplish anything.

Put some positive mojo out there for me, will ya?  I'll need it.  And I'll tell you all about it in a week:-)

Friday, May 4, 2012

Reactionary Dating

My advice you may not like - you don't have to take it.

You don't want a man's relationship with you to be a reaction to something.  You don't want him to only ever act when you threaten to leave. 

You need internal strength.  Having confidence that you can find happiness with another man shows him he has to work for you.  I know it hurts.  But, he needs to pursue you like a lion after his prey. 

Too many girls succumb to the role of sweet, little darlings following men around and begging for their attention, then giving them their heart and soul at the slightest sign of affection.

Geez.  I've been guilty.  I once expressed to a young man a reevaluation of our relationship.  At that moment, he would have done anything to keep me.  And he did -  he told me he wanted to be with me and to marry me more than anything.  So I stayed.  I stayed when the promise of proposal never came.  I stayed when he called me a B*@%#.  I stayed when my intelligence was questioned dozens of times each day.  As the months added up, I realized he had done nothing to back up his words of reaction.

How does that saying go?  The road to hell is paved with good intentions?  I can't live with a partner who doesn't act- who only reacts.

Can you see how a situation where you are the pursuer can turn into something where he sits back and lets you do all the work?  Maybe I'm jumping the gun, but HE** NO! That is not a partnership.  Yes, reciprocate efforts, but do not do all the work alone. 

He needs to need you and actively communicate that in thought, word, and deed.  

If you tell him you need to walk away one day and then you are right there pouncing back in the next, well...then he still doesn't need to pursue you.  He may not consciously realize this, but it won't motivate him to act in any way.  I know it hurts.   I know it sucks.  I know you want to cry.  Do cry.  Don't pursue.

You want a man who is actionary, not REactionary. 

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Love Rhino

I received a junk e-mail today telling me I could be a "love rhino."

I'm not quite sure what that is.

What I am sure of is that I do not want to Google "love rhino."  And I do not want to open that email.

Where do they come up with these things?!


Where am I From: Midwest or Mideast?

I love traveling.  No surprise there, right?

I have been through Council Bluffs, Iowa / Omaha, Nebraska area over a dozen times - how's that for random?

Which brings me to an experience I had one FHE (Family Home Evening) at BYU (Brigham Young University).  We were getting to know each other and they said, "If you are from the Midwest, raise your hand!"  Only one other fellow and I raised our hands.

We both got overly excited and simultaneously asked each other, "What part?!"  He responded, "Nebraska."

"What?! That's the west!  Ohio is the Midwest. There is no way you are Midwest cause you are 15 hours from me!"

We were both very firm in our stances until someone decided that Ohio would be more "Mideast." Hmm..nope, that didn't work either as I didn't live in Western Asia or Northern Africa.

I've, since then,  taken to ambiguously telling people I'm from "back east." Although they do usually first guess I'm "not from around here." 

With all this Midwest/Mideast confusion I tell ya, I'm still not sure where I'm from - and I found an interesting forum thread from someone with a similar identity crisis here.  And does looking up official maps help?  No way - even those maps don't agree - check 'em out below.

What do you think?