PNW Week: Meet Me at Mill Ends Park

Back in the summer of 1995 the chatter around the ole' Highland neighborhood was that the school boundaries had changed. I was about to enter the sixth grade and my final year at Highland Elementary, and I was bugged at this news that the grown ups were messing everything up. Back then there were only two elementary schools, one for Highland, and one for Alpine. Though our towns were close and shared the same junior high and high school buildings, the elementary school kids did not blend. And I didn't want to. Sure, as a kid a year away from entering junior high I knew it was inevitable, that one day I would be forced to learn alongside the rich Alpiners, who lived in their snotty mansions and drove nice cars... I just didn't think that day would be this year. It felt like I had been gypped my final year at Highland Elm., I didn't want to meet new kids, I just wanted one more year with the same old faces I had known since first grade.

It must have been that same year that Utah got an Old Navy because all the cool Alpine girls showed up wearing Old Navy t-shirts and dog tag necklaces. That was the first time I remember wanting to fit in better at school and being aware of the brands people wore (up until this point the only thing I thought would be cool to wear was a white Highland Hawks sweatshirt). I remember finally going to Old Navy around Christmas time for gift shopping, and being so excited to have my mom buy me a dog tag necklace.... but realized, after I proudly wore it the first week back to school from the break, that they weren't cool any more.

One Alpine girl who didn't seem like the other girls who joined our school that year and who happened to be in my home classroom was Amanda. Though she definitely fit in with her Alpine cronies, she didn't act like them. I listened in on their conversations and it sounded like she knew them all really well, she could joke with them and make them laugh and the feeling from the group was that they respected her. The Alpine kids I was a little intimated by seemed to be comfortable around her and put their guard down. She was funny, and had an underlying cool quirky demeanor.

We didn't become good friends that year, but because of that demeanor I naturally gravitated to her in junior high. As the oldest kid in my family, and having older cousins tell you that being in the marching band was cool, I was a little lost at the new big school. I viewed Amanda as my safety boat,  in a sea of girly clicks whose waves might toss me onto an island where I beat a snare drum in the band nerd parade.... I wanted her to paddle me far away from that. I felt good around Amanda because she was smart and knew what was hip, but preferred the funny and the weird. I needed that. Lucky for me she let me sit with her blend of weirdos at her locker every day for lunch.

We've been best friends ever since. 

Amanda always seems finds the strange and bizarre things in life, and delights and celebrates her findings. Nothing is boring around her...small little trinkets, friendship bracelets, creepy city sites around town, and songs on the radio.. all are given a significant meaning, even for purely comical reasons. Every time we drove past her neighbors house she made me stop at this weird red train sign that was placed there as yard decor, simply because the idea of her neighbors looking out their windows and watching cars treat it as a stop sign cracked her up. She always had a backpack with her, full of dress up clothes and odd objects that might be handy on our weekend exploits. We used to throw parties, make a ton of weird food, and invite people we didn't even know out of our year book over to play "spin the fish". On every New Years Eve she had us all pick a word that we weren't supposed to use all year long, and we had to figure out each others word throughout the year. She found out we could become ministers online, so we both became ordained priests.

Because of her fascination and awe for the small and peculiar things in life, and because peculiar things eventually find her, it was only a matter of time before she discovered the most adorable park located in Portland, Oregon... Mill Ends Park. She literally had stars in her eyes when she first told me about it.

Have you heard of this park? It's amazing!

Mill Ends Park, located in a two foot wide hole on a median strip of Naito Parkway, in downtown Portland, is the world's smallest park. It's history on how it came to be is absolutely adorable. A newspaper columnist in 1948 named Dick Fagan planted flowers in the abandoned hole and named the hole "Mill Ends" after his column in the paper. Dick told the story that he was looking out the window where he worked and saw a leprechaun digging in the hole, he quickly ran over and grabbed the little guy, because everyone knows when you grab a leprechaun you get a wish. Dick told the leprechaun, Patrick O'Toole, that he wished for a park of his own... but since he didn't specify a size for the park, the leprechaun made that hole the park.

Dick Fagan, who must share the same kind of soul as my friend Amanda, continued to write about this whimsical park in his column for years, sharing stories with his readers about the latest Mill Ends happenings, and often wrote about the leprechauns who lived in the park. Once, when the mayor of Portland proposed an 11:00 p.m. curfew on all city parks, Dick published a response from the leprechaun, O'Toole, who threatened a curse upon the mayor and dared him to try and evict him and his friends. In the end, the mayor took no legal action and let the leprechauns stay in the park after hours..

Portland is full of enough weird and whimsical people who take silly things seriously that the have taken care of Mill Ends for Dick Fagan since he died in 1969. The city made it an official city park in 1976. They once even brought in a tiny Ferris wheel to add to the park, and the city used a normal size crane to do it! That's insane!


It makes me happy to think that there is a whole city out there that delights and celebrates the magical weirdness in life. Every country needs a Portland. For those people who don't want to conform to a boring "Alpine" city, Portland is their safe harbor, it rebels against the normal... and that's how Amanda has always been to me. A renegade who lets you be your weird self.

Amanda and I made a promise that one day we would visit Mill Ends Park, and have the world's smallest picnic there. One day we will make, the closest we have come so far is when my sister visited Portland earlier this year and we made her find the park and take a picture for us:

Thank heavens for Portlands and Amandas.

The world would be much more normal and scary without them.

PNW Week: The Mountain is Out

The Mountain is Out

By: Amanda Jane

For some reason Seattle made my soul restless. It never felt like my home, just a space I was awkwardly borrowing until I was beckoned back home. No matter how hard I tried to love it, it just never felt like it was mine. As we drove our moving truck out of town for the last time I realized the only two things I would really miss deep down inside were sea glass and Mt. Rainier.

Although I’m a Rocky Mountain girl at heart, the majesty of Mt. Rainier was never lost on me. Whether flying above it’s snow capped craters or spying it through a thick hazy fog it always had this ethereal, painted-into-the-sky quality about it. Despite being born and raised nestled in the heart of many jagged mountain peaks I've come to think of that hulking, mountain, volcano as the most powerful, stand-alone peak of them all. There was truly something mystical about Mt. Rainier (not the least of which was it’s designation as one of the world’s deadliest volcanoes.) Like some kind of natural optical illusion Rainier has the ability to look the same size from downtown Seattle as it does thirty-miles away. Because Mt. Rainier is so much taller than any other peak in the Cascade range, it rules the skyline, leaving every other peak surrounding it basically forgotten.

Washington has a reputation for being perpetually gloomy, so when you actually catch a glimpse of Rainier it signifies an extra special kind of day. Just like the forgotten Cascade peaks Washingtonians also bowed down to the queen of the natural skyline- Seattle landmarks like the University of Washington and the Space Needle were built so that they would frame Rainier when she was visible. For all the holes Seattle didn't fill in my soul I always found beauty in the way that when “the mountain was out” it signified an especially beautiful day. Because of her ever-present size and scope it sometimes felt like Rainier ruled the weather and only came out when she felt like it, rather than the other way around. In a place that so often made me feel so out of place, seeing Mt. Rainier brought me out of my own haze and gave me a reason to feel connected.

Old photo of Mount Rainier framed by the Court of Honor at UW:

Photo found here

Pictures taken by Amanda:

If you live in Seattle and are too busy to look out the window... here's a twitter account that lets you know "Is the mountain out?", CLICK HERE

Time for Correspondence

We live in the Instant Age. Because of the advancement of technology we have a seemingly infinite database of all of mankind's truths, lies, and twerk video fails. And this information is no longer confined to our desks. It’s in our pockets, in our cars, on airplanes, in outer space, and even in our watches and eye-wear. But this has created the new dilemma. How do we find time for it all?


There are few things in this life as valuable as our time. So in this era of micro-transactions, hyperlinks and unlimited access subscriptions, we needed to find a more effective form of communication. And we called it social media. It’s fun, it’s easy, effective... and it is destroying our society.

Think about what our social media sites say about us. Facebook: “Update the personal details of your life, so that when I have time I can scan through and see how you are doing.” Twitter: “I wanna hear what you’re up to! But keep it under 140 characters. I'm in a hurry.” Instagram: “Just take a picture… I don't have time to read about your cat.”

The problem is not that we have become casual about communication. It’s a fixation on efficient communication. Get the info you need and get out. How often do we think about a friend but instead of calling them up and getting a drink we check their “Wall” or Insta-feed, like a few of their posts, making no effort to contact them at all, and call it good. In a sense we feel more connected and “caught up” on their life. It takes no time and all, and now we can move on to other activities or “catch up” with even more friends! That seemingly infinite database we talked about now has info about our friends that only a few years ago we had to get out of bed for!

But this is a selfish and one sided. That friend has no idea that we cared enough to stalk them online because they didn't benefit from the time we gave them. This is why there is something to be loved about letters, because there is love in the act for writing it. When we receive a letter in the mail we instantly know that at some time, days or weeks before, the writer of that letter thought of you. At some time in the chaos of their life, for one moment, the clouds parted and your name was shouted from the void and it struck them so poignantly that they could think of nothing else until they released their thoughts in a letter addressed to you. Or, you know, maybe they remembered it was your birthday. Or maybe they stepped in some gum and remembered the story of you getting gum stuck in your hair and having to chop it all off. Right before school pictures! And like that gum, that story stuck with them. And every time they took a step and that gum pulled at their shoe, your name pulled at their mind. Then, while walking by an office supply store, they paused and thought how they would love to hear from you. So they bought some stationary and an envelope and wrote you a letter the next day and now that letter is in your hands.

Think about what our social media sites say about us. Facebook: “Update the personal details of your life, so that when I have time I can scan through and see how you are doing.” Twitter: “I wanna hear what you’re up to! But keep it under 140 characters. I'm in a hurry.” Instagram: “Just take a picture… I don't have time to read about your cat.”

The care, the effort, the time they put into that letter radiates from it. And when you hold it in your hands you think of how they held it too. And when you read it you can see past the words and look back onto your whole relationship, and maybe even into the future.

But it doesn't stop there. They are still thinking about you! waiting and hoping for a reply and wondering if the letter has reached you yet and if you are well and suddenly thinking about you has become a daily occurrence for them. This is aged correspondence. This is the fine wine of communication. And in the Instant Age, few things feel as good as time someone cares to spend on you.

-Jeffery


PS. Check out this board on Pinterest for some great stationary and greeting card inspiration.

PSS. (post-super-scriptum) If you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy this article about social etiquette.

Go! Turn The Ignition!

You know how people say if you need something done, have your busiest friend do it, or something like that? If that is really a saying, I don't know, I may have made it up just to start this post...

"If you want something done, ask a busy person to do it" that really is a saying, I just looked it up! So, ya know how people say that? It basically means that the busy person... the one that is already moving and grooving, crossing things off her to-do list, firing on all cylinders... will barely notice another thing being added to her list, and she will get it (whatever it is) done in a timely and proficient manner. On the other hand, the person who has nothing to do, even though they have all the time in the world to do it, they are going to take all kinds of pushing and prodding to get their engines going. The simplest task might take them weeks because they are so used to doing nothing at all!

Right now I am this second person. The person that can't seem to turn the ignition over and get a single thing done! I feel like I should be more depressed about it, but I am feeling pretty apathetic too. I had a job interview a couple weeks ago at an engineering firm I really want to work at, and the interview went really really well. I mean, it went so well that they are going to hire me, they just don't know when... so, I'm in this weird lazy void. I don't have any responsibilities, I have nothing to do all day.... I should be exercising, eating well, and getting all sorts of projects done, but I'm totally not. I have been eating junkie food, sleeping in, staying up late, and basically letting myself do whatever I want whenever I want to... no self discipline at all. 

Well, I am finally to the point that I need to start getting my butt in gear. I am a happier better person when I am more disciplined, and when I am working hard at something.... so, today, I start anew! And if I fail today, then tomorrow!

Self-discipline is the most allusive virtues for me, and one I hope I get better and better at it throughout my life. I enjoy reading about people who seem to have mastered it to understand it more. One of my all-time favorite self-discipline examples is from a book called "The Man Who Rode The Thunder" written by Lt. Col. William H. Rankin. It's all about his life as an aviator in the marines during the 40's and 50's, and about his amazing story of having to parachute from an F-8 fighter jet through a thunder storm (the only person who has survived such an event). His book is also full of his positive outlook on life, hard-work, and discipline.

Here is an excerpt from the book that I still think about often:

"In the past, I had always reconciled myself to un-exciting duty because I knew that by doing my very best sooner or later the duty I wanted most would come along. But as a logistics officer I discovered something more. I discovered that when dull, routine, colorless chores depress us, it is most often we, ourselves, who are at fault. For we allow that which is petty or dull to conquer and suppress that which is unsuppressible -- the human spirit. There is nothing on earth above which the human mind cannot rise, there are no dark corners of life that we cannot brighten, even a bit, for ourselves, if only we allow the human spirit to ignite a little flame now and then - to create a little perspective, a little humanity, a little sense of humor, a sense of the pride of accomplishment, even when there are no medals to be handed out, and we must feel that pride only in our hearts."

I love that.

Another person who inspires me is Olan Rogers. This morning he had a new YouTube video posted, so I clicked over to check it out and ended up watching his spring apparel video again, and loving it even more. I had my mom listen to me read his uplifting definitions for each graphic in his spring collection, and she was so inspired that she ordered his shirt "rise and rise again" right there on the spot.

This is what Olan Rogers has to say about "taking the road less traveled":

"There used to be this idea that through hard work and blazing your own path you could achieve anything you wanted. I believe this concept has become pretty watered down. It seems now that success is simply based on popularity and a lot of people believe that the world will just be handed to them. Unfortunately, foregoing the process of working your butt off to build yourself from the ground up shapes the person you become. My Dad once told me that the right way will never be the easy way. Take the road less traveled! It's by no means easy, but those who take it truly appreciate the journey, much more so than those who would have just had it handed to them."

Feeling inspired yet? And less lazy? I sure am! Time to start working my butt off and getting my huge list of things I want to get done, done.

My mom and I are also starting the 7-day GM Diet tomorrow morning... if any one would like to join us, please do! We are shifting gears over here!

Why I Love Blogs and My Goals For This One.

In high school many of our guy friends were really into the local music scene, and for us back then, the genre was pop-punk, or emo-punk, music influenced by Saves The Day, The Ataris, Taking Back Sunday, and Blink182. So we spent a lot of evenings at weird little venues to watch other local bands play, and some nights, cheering our friends on as they took stage.

Anticipating one of their shows was exciting. The guys would go crazy making flyers and passing them out at school, hanging them on bulletin boards around town, and leaving stacks of them at skate shops and the entrances to these small music venues. These flyers were actually one of my favorite parts of the show. I loved the creative punk lettering, the old school clip-art used, and the crude attempts at making it all come together in word or paint.

At shows I was always happy to take other bands' flyers, and usually made my way over to the front entrance to peruse the upcoming shows and flyer selection. One night, I was pleasantly surprised when I stumbled upon, not a stack of flyers, but a pile of home-made magazine looking things. I picked one up and thumbed through it completely delighted. Someone had designed their own magazine! This someone had written their own articles, drawn their own illustrations, and lettered their own headline! This someone had made copies of all these pages at a copy store somewhere, folded them all, and stapled them down the middle like an actual magazine... and was now distributing them! For free!

I thought it was genius.

Come to find out, this lovely home-made magazine was called a 'zine' (sounds like spleen), and people in the punk scene were making them everywhere. I loved it. I have always loved the idea of creating something interactive to share with others on a community scale, like a comic strip or radio station. Not necessarily because I wanted to be showy or famous, I just liked the connection it might bring. I wrote a paper in high school about how everyone should be required to watch the ten o'clock news every night, along with the 10:30 seinfeld episode. That way everyone would have a reference point to begin a conversation the following day. I just like the idea of creating and connecting with people. The same feeling when I know everyone is reading the same book. I like the community feel.

Which is why I have always been a complete sucker for the online diary and blogging world. I think it's the most wonderful thing. Back in 2003 we all started little diaries in diaryland dot com.... and that era is still one of my favorite internet eras. Everyone posting, leaving funny messages on message boards, learning how to code in HTML, and sharing thoughts and jokes for everyone.

Today my facebook page is inundated with buzzfeed articles and articles that are quickly produced, and written with the only goal of getting you to click over, and then share the article on your own facebook page. I don't consider myself to be an expert writer by any means, but these quickly produced and quickly forgotten articles are slowly dulling my brain.

I fell in love with blogs, and my friends' blogs, because they didn't have an agenda. They weren't trying to sell me anything or get more page views, they were merely sharing something. Just like the girl that gave away the homemade zine at the punk shows... it was something she made and wanted to share. My favorite blogs, my long time favorites, that I have read for years and years without being annoyed, are ones that aren't trying to get a page view out of me (and their entire post shows up in my RSS feed reader), and you can tell they are posting because they simply love to post. These blogs make up a happy online community.

That's what I want this blog to be about.

I want it to be like that zine being distributed for free at a punk show. I don't want to worry about keeping the lazy internet reader interested, by constructing short paragraphs and bullet point lists... just so I can sell you something at the bottom of the article. Nope, here at Girls Pearls and Powder, we are keeping it old school, and hopefully you'll be able to feel how genuine we are and want to keep on reading.

This blog is a guide for the Proper Mountain Woman. A woman who loves the outdoors, conquers her own mountains, is interested in interesting things, and delights in being a proper lady. I love blogs that share interesting articles, links to other blogs, music they are listening to, products they use, along with positive thoughts and stories. And that's pretty much what this blog will be doing. I am a lover of the mountains, snowboarding, and always have the goal of becoming a better person and a more proper lady.... so expect some posts about those things as well.

I'm excited to announce this blog will also feature an etiquette column called Ask Amanda Jane, I love studying etiquette (I know, it doesn't show) and have a stack of etiquette books here on the table beside me... so when my best friend, Amanda, asked if she could start an etiquette column... I was stoked! She's one of the best writers I know, and my number one go-to for advice. Some of the best counsel and wisdom I have received, for big or small life questions, have come from her. Her phone calls always make me happy. So, I hope you enjoy the new etiquette column as much as I do, and decide to write your own etiquette questions in. It's going to be awesome.

Anyways, here's to old fashioned blogging and digital home-made zines! May we continue to share and feel connected!

Love,

Whitney

Well-Mannered Snowboard Children

On Valentines Day this year it rained. And it rained a ton. I mean, it was a devastating dump of water. It should never rain that much up in the mountains in February. For snow enthusiasts, and ski/snowboard instructors working at the resort, it's tragic to see the precious snow being drizzled on, churned up, and slushed away... especially knowing that if it had it been maybe 15 degrees colder, as it should be in the middle of February, it would have been a legendary powder day...

...oh, it breaks yer heart.

That afternoon, during the lunch break, the yurt walls were lined with red instructor coats dripping cold rain water onto the floor, and all the instructors were sopping wet. Nobody wanted to be out in the rain, nobody wanted to teach... eyes kept darting to the clock on the wall, and ears were listening for the buzz of the walky-talky report. Hoping nobody would be foolish enough to sign up for a snowboard lesson in the rain, and eager to be let off so we could all go home and get ready for Valentines dates.

The walky-talky report that is sent up from the snowsports office to the yurt usually goes something like this:

"Come in, 600. Do you copy?" - our supervisor at the yurt, all of us standing around anxious to hear if we are going to be getting paid, or if we just get to go free ride.

"This is 600. Over." - the office.

"Can we get a final count for afternoon line up? Over." - the yurt

"Eh, yeah... it looks like you got 127 ski lessons, 47 adults, 54 kids, and 26 babies. Over." - the office

"127 ski lessons, and not a single snowboard!!?? Over." - the yurt

"That is correct. No snowboard lessons. Not even a baby. Over." - the office

Okay, that might be a little exaggerated, but it is true that the ski side of snowsports is way more busy than the snowboard side. For me, a snowboard instructor, it's baffling. Snowboarding is way more fun, and from what I can tell.. skiing looks like the easiest sport ever, why would you need a lesson in something so remedial?

Anyways, this is how the report went on the rainiest day of the year:

"Come in 600. Can we get a final count for afternoon line up? Over." - the yurt

"We have zero adult ski lesson, six adult snowboard lessons, and nine children snowboarders. Over" - the office

Our hearts sank a little.

Typical.

The rainiest afternoon of the season and the wild adventure driven snowboarders were set on coming out to ride. The nice part about having so many lessons being we didn't have to draw straws to see who would teach... we all got to spend the next 2.5 hours getting drizzled on and lifting people up off the slushy snow

Good thing they don't hire the faint of heart to be snowboard instructors, and it's the happy hardcore ones that have stuck around this long in the season... we all know how to step into our wet coats, turn on our smiley faces, and share the love of riding.

My lesson actually turned out to be one of the funnest lessons of the year. I taught two little kids, brother and sister (9 & 7), who were adorable. Just sweet, well-mannered, smart, and as we rode the lift they taught me all about different habitats and the animals that live in them. Both of them would talk and listen, they also gave each other room to say things and not be interrupted... it was amazing.

They had never been on snowboards before and didn't complain about how hard it was, how they fell so many times, or never once said how horrible the weather was. I couldn't believe it. Not even when the boy's gloves were so wet he couldn't put them back on his hand very well when he took them off to squeeze the water out!!!

At one point he fell hard learning how to turn and calmly said "oh, I am in excruciating pain!" But then he was back up, learning how to shred again!

I don't know what the trick is to raising good kids like that, I hope if I ever have the duty of rearing some they turn out just as polite and sweet as those two. I met their father at the end of the lesson, complemented him on his awesome kids and told him it was one of the most enjoyable lesson I've ever taught.

From bits and pieces the kids told me, I could tell this family was loaded.. they traveled quite a bit, could afford snowboard lessons, nice gear, and their dad drove a luxory SUV and had paid to go skiing by himself during their lesson (he also gave me the best tip I have ever received)... I tell you this because I've met enough rich parents at the end of lessons to be surprised at how different this family was. The dad seemed to be sort of nerdy, or geeky, and in my speculations, I imagined he was a successful rocket engineer genius. The type that can handle complex equations with ease, but struggles with human interaction (that type of nerdy). But he was nice, very polite, and graciously accepted the complements about his kids. To me, it was a pleasant reminder of the power of good manners. It doesn't matter if you are a rich rocket engineer nerd, a small shop owner, a poor snowboard instructor, or a hill billy redneck... good manners make you a nice person to know. And, I think, will make your kids nice kids to know.

The more I study about manners and etiquette, the more I love them and marvel at how life-changing they are. I think they make you feel better about yourself, and they definitely make others around you feel warm and glad to know you. I saw a quote the other day that said "manners will open doors that the best education can not" (Clarence Thomas said that) and another one, "manners will open doors that the best pick up lines can not" (don't know said that, but they are right)... I completely agree. I think it's also safe to say that manners help make your kids nice for others to be around, or nice to teach snowboarding to on a rainy day... so we should all be well-behaved, and well-mannered examples.

Marriage Is Like Snowboarding

"But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint." ~Isiah 40:31

(snapped that temple pic over the weekend)

I love Elder Quentin L Cook, he has been my favorite addition to the brotherhood these recent years. And I really enjoyed his October conference talk. My favorite excerpt from his talk was this: "Immersion in the scriptures is essential for spiritual nourishment. The word of God inspires commitment and acts as a healing balm for hurt feelings, anger, or disillusionment. When our commitment is diminished for any reason, part of the solution is repentance. Commitment and repentance are closely intertwined." He continues in quoting CS Lewis, "When you know you are sick, you will listen to the doctor".

Sometimes after 29 years of living, I forget that when I am sad or down, the best nourishment that always does the trick is reading the scriptures, old or new. I always feel better and more committed and full of hope after reading. It brings the Spirit back into my life and I feel refreshed, and that God is on my side.

I will honestly admit that marriage is harder than I had anticipated. I am surprised at how emotional it has made me. As a wise, go lucky, mature woman, I felt like l would tackle this marriage thing like a pro and looked forward to marital bliss. Come to find out, living two states away without social interaction and everything that made up the wonderful Whitney world I created for myself... I sometimes feel emotional and insecure. I thought things would go a certain way, and in this delicate new important "rest of your life" relationship, when it doesn't go that way... you sorta feel like the world is crumbling around you. You feel like a failure.

I am but an infant in this marriage arena... learning to progress, and frustrated with myself that I can't get it right... right away.

But then I remember the first weeks of working at Horrocks and what a complete moron I felt like, or when I thought I would never learn Romanian on my mission, or even when I first learned to snowboard and would come home grumpy and sore... every first step in anything is painful, you are bound to fall a few times. Even six cycles of Margo's marriage prep class couldn't prepare me with the raw experience of marriage. You have to baby step that on your own.

Nobody knows how to map a 3D base file of existing utilities for all of I-15 their first day on the job, I don't know anyone who has flown to Romania and was able to roll their R's flawlessly and "vorbesc cu darul limbilor" during their first night of street contacting... and unless you are my buddy Russ, I have yet to see anyone go snowboarding their first time and not tumble all the way down the mountain.

I look forward to days where I will gracefully snowboard this mountain of marriage, but have finally realized that I am bound to fall along the way... it's part of the plan! Sometimes my arms will be sore from lifting myself up. That's what the scriptures and prayer are for, to bring you closer to Heavenly Father, change your perspective and give you strength to try again.

Some nights while lying in bed and I start to wonder what the heck did I get myself into, why did I choose to do this to myself? Being single was so easy... I was happy and emotionally independent, I had money, I had an Orchard Shack, I had an awesome job, I had friends when I wanted them, did cool hobbies, hung out with my siblings, managed my own time, I didn't have to listen to anyone else's opinion, or worry about anyone else... After I am done having a mental pity party, and after saying my prayers, I mentally compile a list of all the things I am grateful for. Without fail, I am always grateful for my marriage... how could I progress into a more Christlike person without it? God is so smart, how better to understand patience, selflessness, unconditional love, service, and charity than by forcing you to be with the same person day in and day out. I definitely can't learn these things alone, and even felt that way as a single person. The other thing that always tops the list is the blessing of a good husband. Dan is kind, and caring, and always thinking of how to make this work. I love that he is dedicated. I am grateful he is a good listener, and initiates good conversation when I would rather not talk it out. I love knowing that he is the one I get to work it out with, and that we have each other's backs. It is easy to have be hopeful knowing that we both want each other to succeed, to be happy, and that we love each other.

Last night talking with Dan, I'm sure I apologized for being such a nutcase... and Dan sweetly said  "well, in fifty years, what matters in the end, is that you are my nutcase".

That is love right there.

Odds and Ends

Time is moving so quickly these days, and I feel like I am swimming in a list of stuff that gets longer and longer, living out of boxes of things that never seem to get organized. Moments where I am by myself, alone, and with my own thoughts are so rare. I find myself in my car, and when not on the phone with my fiancé, not even listening to music... just enjoying the silence and offering up little prayers of gratitude and pondering this crazy life of mine.

I started packing up things in boxes a few weeks ago to get ready to move it all into a storage unit for the summer. It was nice going through all my stuff and throwing a lot of it out. While packing I came across this rock that has been sitting on my shelf for about a year, and was baffled on what to do with it. I love that rock... I found it on a hike about a year ago, on the other side of the mountain from my shack. It was just sitting on the trail... all shiny and bright, waiting for me to pick it up. It didn't look like it belonged to the scenery at all. It was on a dirt trail, on a dirt packed side of a mountain. No other white rock in sight. I figured someone must have carried it up there, and it slipped out of their bag, or they got sick of holding it, and let it drop. 

What do you do with a rock like that when you are packing up and moving a couple states over? It's just a stupid rock. I carried it home with me to remember that awesome hike I took by myself, and put it on that shelf simply because I had a shelf it could sit on. Now what do I do with it? I mean, I can't keep everything I have ever picked up, or else I will die an old woman surrounded by weird rocks! But I really like looking at that rock, and seeing it on my shelf. But packing it up in a box, then un-packing it, and having to put it somewhere in our new apartment, wacky woman!

I remember learning this fact a long time ago that men think in categorized boxes, and woman think in one big box. One thing I absolutely love about Dan is how very manly he is. While some men may probably try to cultivate more balanced natures or skills, Dan is almost unapologetic in his manliness and has all the  stereotypical man qualities, and thinks like a stereotypical man... which I love, and interestingly enough, being around him makes me want to be more womanly.

Anyways... it's interesting how men and women think so differently. Both ways have their own strengths and weaknesses. Dan thinks about something, and can't think of anything else sometimes, because they are two different things in two boxes. To me it is mind-boggling how he does that. I think of everything all at once, and continue to think in a big loop, one thought leading to another, then to another. If something comes up in my day at work, or with Dan, or with wedding plans, I start thinking about it... and as I think about it, my thoughts churn and lead me through all the other things I need to make decisions about, and how they all effect each other... questions like "Whitney, what is your wedding dress going to look like?"... in my own head I would answer, "Well, something with ivory lace... but what will I do with that rock sitting on my shelf at home?"

Yes, perhaps, the ramblings of a crazy woman. But that is how my brain is working these days. So much to do, so much to decide... and for some reason rocks connect with everything else going on in my head... packing for Fiji, thinking about my darling Dan, and planning a wedding.

So what do I do with the rock? I take a picture of it, write a blog post about it, and then toss it into my neighbors flower garden (where it matches the other white rocks and has friends). Hopefully by documenting this rock, and the memory associated with it will help pin my other thoughts down and help me cross more things off my to do list.

Here's hoping.

Bloggings From A Motel

This "business trip" I'm on is getting old fast... I'm not sure what my boss was thinking sending me up here for this shiz. Driving and walking around Clinton and Sunset Cities, trying to get a hold of these random people who have been selected to fill out a survey - for a road that is going to be built no matter what these people say. It's sorta depressing. For those of you who don't know, I am no longer a drafter at Horrocks Engineers - they uprooted me to the public involvement department. Probably because people love me so much, but mostly it's because they were probably desperate - and all they had to fill the spot was me and a building full of engineers who wear plaid shirts every day and think puns about "plotting" are funny.

Anyways, that was back in January when the department switcharoo happened. I told them I had BS-ed being drafter for 4 years, I could BS anything else they'd like me to do. So far it's worked out. I had to stick around for a few project deadlines on some of the projects I was doing utility plans for, but now I am full blown public involvement (P.I. for short) The department consists of me and another man named David. Instead of drafting I have important meetings with UDOT officials and city council members, I have breakfast business meetings, lunch meetings, conference calls, open houses to plan, and one morning Mr. Horrocks himself wanted me first-thing in his office. What the? Most of the time I just deal with curious humans who want to know more about the construction projects going on in their neighborhoods... lucky for me, because I love curious humans. And truly, I love being involved in communities and being in "the know" about construction projects. Before being involved with P.I. I would go to public open houses just for fun, and now I get paid to go.

Well, my new boss, Stan, thought it would be good for me to get out and, I guess, "really meet the people" for this environmental study going on up here in clinton and sunset. It's been interesting. While I normally am all gung-ho for new roads and interchanges I'm starting to sympathize with this community up here. One man in particular really got me thinking. He refused to take the survey Sunday afternoon because he knew the survey wouldn't make a difference, that road is going in no matter what. He was so informed, so smart, so conservative, so educated, so furious about the government, and spoke with such a loud clear voice... I sat and listened to him for 30 minutes in the shade of his porch because I loved everything he was saying so much. Too bad he is 40 years too old for me.

Poor Sunset City, once upon a time it was just a cute little community. Now it's being slowly diminished by federal roads, drivers getting to and from West Point City, Hill Air Force Base, meth-heads roam the street, and the Front Runner train runs through peoples backyards.

I'm glad I don't live up here.

I'll be glad when this project is done. Even though it's nice not being stuck in the office.

Things that have made this trip more bearable: the Deweys let me borrow one of their laptops (even though it's a Mac, it's saving my life), and because my beetle sorta broke down yesterday, McKay is up here helping now! I'm so glad she is here, I was sorta loosing it.

Thunk

I stay up too late. Last night I was up till past 4am - I couldn't get tired. I heard cars and motorcycles drive by my shack and I wondered if they were up late, or up early. Doesn't matter, I thought. What is time? The sections of the clock where I'm supposed to be awake and be asleep have absolutely no meaning to me. I'm not sure if that is a blessing or a curse. When I think about the hours on a clock I think of choices rather than rules. Options.

After it was already pretty late last night I put aside my cross-stitching and turned out the lights. After what seemed like an hour I got back up. I played the harmonica, went outside and ate a twinkie (why do I own a box a twinkies?), cross-stitched some more, read the first four articles in the conference issue of the ensign, cried when I read this one, checked on a spiders' web by my dresser, practiced my memorization of the 12 apostles, and then turned off the lights again.

Day or night, my brain can't seem to slow down.

+ rented Black Hawk Down to watch again (I just finished the book) when the movie was over and the credits rolled and the name Ewan McGregor's rolled by I was surprised, I hadn't realized that was him - everyone looks so different with hoo-ha haircuts. I love Eric Bana and Sam Shepard in this movie.

+ speaking of war stuff - viewed the entire Band of Brothers series recently - that, on top of reading BHD, my dreams have been insane. I tear up when I hear country songs about 9-11, think about Osama being killed, and see helicopter formations.

+ speaking of country music, I just finished the best mix ever for my mom. There are so many good songs on the radio right now; honey bee, take a back road, wanna take you home... etc. and where has Ashton Shepherd been my whole life? her 'look it up' is awesome.

+ speaking of bad-A country singer gals... when are we going to be able to view Miranda Lambert's  wedding pictures? She shot the deer that was served at her wedding party herself. How is she so cool? (miranda and I are only 3 days apart - were basically twins)

+ speaking of twins, mckay (my-almost-Irish-twin) and I had so much fun with these crazy hellians camping this weekend. sometimes I absolutely love crazy groups of people unrestricted by neighbors, city limits, sound ordinances and the law. I hate the law.

+ speaking of the law, I freaking ripped up a parking ticket given to me by the downtown provo policemen - I swear cops in that area of town must have to take skadoosh (without the ska) tests, and pass, before being hired on. I'd rather spend the weekend in jail than pay that ticket. Looks like I'll be riding my bikes more around Provo.

+ speaking of bikes, on Friday I took the day off and rode my bike up to my parent's house in Highland - to meet some girls off craigslist who wanted to buy my beach cruiser. Commuting on road bikes is like a walk in a park compared to commuting fixed gear bikes, I still can't believe it, most especially when headed uphill.

+  speaking of uphill, I'm so glad I don't live in a river bottom right now - I would be so afraid of the river over flowing, and would probably fill sand bags all night to be prepared. Yesterday before we left to Andie's seminary graduation our ditch was a roaring ROARING river - I half expected to look and see some hard core river kayakers riding down the waves in our backyard.

+ speaking of backyards, we have adopted a wild cat who comes to our backyard door, she might be caring for some kittens right now if they have survived the thunder storms. Andie has named her Ting Ting, McKay has named her Lucille Two, and Mom has named her Dolores. Max and I carried over the miniature Joseph Smith house for her to sleep in one stormy night - but she refused. We keep giving her food and milk and telling her to take us to her babies. She doesn't understand.

+ speaking of being misunderstood, my dad has diabetes. Horrocks (my work) has a bike team that is doing the Tour de Cure this year and we have like 25 people on the team. If you would like to donate to the cure for diabetes I would appreciate it - I, personally, need to raise 150 dollars. Horrocks has a goal of raising $5,000 all together, and they have currently raised $4360 - which is pretty cool. In an upcoming post I will put a link to my rider site so you can donate, get your credit cards out! I don't care if it's one dollar - if you have read this entire post that means you are a true friend, or really bored at work, therefore you are good enough to give me one dollar. Think of my dad, think of diabetes, think of the shame I will face for not reaching the minimum $150. Thank you.

This is Whitney.

State Of The Union

My fellow Americans, 

I had an interview with the new mayor of Highland last week, for a position I am interested in. And you know when you first meet someone and you can just tell they are good and normal? That's how I felt about our new mayor, and it made me happy. Anyways, I think the interview went well but was asked a question that completely flabbergasted me (it is sort of embarrassing to admit, so don't make fun of me). It was a straight forward enough question, and I think I answered it just fine in the interview on the outside, but let me explain how my head reacted on the inside when the question was posed. It was like the mayor had written the question on a rubber band and then pulled it big, aimed it at my skull and let it go. My brain freaked out! And that question has been bouncing around in there ever sense.
THE QUESTION IS THIS: Do you think the planning commission should be influenced by politics?
That’s it. Really simple. But I can’t comprehend it.
Maybe because it’s a poor question. Isn't it sorta vague?  
This question had me doubting everything I ever knew... what does the word politics even mean? Why is it plural? What’s a politic? 
One definition of politics is “the use of intrigue or strategy in obtaining any position of power or control”. If that’s what he meant, then the answer is No. Another definition is “a process by which groups of people make collective decisions” if that is what he meant… then the obvious answer is Yes, that is what the planning commission is set up for. By politics does he mean influential parties, like democrat vs republican, liberal vs conservative? Does he mean “the political principals and sympathies of a person”… if so, then I don’t understand the question, isn’t everything we do influenced by this?

Did you know the word ‘politic’ is an adjective and means shrewd, wise, tactful? Other synonyms being adroit, advisable, canny, cool, delicate, diplomatic, discreet, judicious, on the lookout, prudent, sensible, sharp, smooth? 
All those words seem pretty good to me, so why do I cringe every time I hear of things getting “political”? or of “back room politics”? Most of the time when I hear the words politics I think of back-stabbing, propaganda, name-calling, mud-flinging and dishonesty.

But it seems to me (the more it's bounced around in my head) that politics are good. At least individual politics. It's simple and pure. Politicians would like us to think that what they do is very hard and complicated, but it's not. Politics should all start within... your own personal view of what is right, decent, good, prudent and wise. What YOU think is diplomatic, smooth and sensible. Your own moral fiber. How you think people ought to be treated. I think politics should come from common sense, and should make sense.
I also have come to realize that politics should be fueled by love for our fellow men. I OFTEN wonder how I turned out conservative when I was raised by a woman who leans to the left on most issues, votes democrat and who likes obama. But it's because I was raised out of love, my parents wanted the best for me... and, I think, that made the rules and guidelines in our home, naturally, more conservative than liberal.
My dad has always said if a teacher ever hit us for mis-behaving in class, we'd come home and he would hit us again. My mom always says if we get arrested, put into jail and call her up to come get us out, she'd tell us we were on our own and let us spend the night behind bars. In my house the phrase is "guilty until proven innocent". I have also been taught to stick up for myself, do the honorable thing, don't follow the crowd, and been given the "okay" to defend myself if I need to. Us kids have had to work to pay for our missions, college and cars. Even if my parents had the money to help us all out with everything, they would still make us work to support ourselves. We are to be kind, courteous and respectful. There are no rewards for good behavior, it is just expected of us. There are no hand outs, no excuses, no crutches, nothing... just be good.
And while we aren't allowed to be weak and use lame excuses for poor behavior, my mom will rush to the defense of any stranger who does just that. Whenever I complain about someone my mom will say "Whitney, she's probably just having a bad day" or "Don't be so judgmental, we don't know their background" or "don't jump to conclusions, he may have a mental illness that makes him that way." And it totally shocks me how she can be so open-minded about people who appear to lack any sort of human decency... but won't give us any lean way. And it's not that my mom loves the public more than she loves us (her kids), in fact just the opposite is true. She loves us way more, so she wants us to work harder and she holds us to a higher standard. She's a parent and wants the best for us, and sometimes that means that we don't get what we want... but allows us to work hard to become something and to earn what we deserve. We have to blaze our own trails to becoming whatever it is we want to be (which my parents always said, could be anything). Thus, making us better and stronger and wiser humans. And hopefully, in the end, that makes us more free.
Shouldn't politics be as simple as parenting and knowing what's good for your kid? Shouldn't the same principals be put into the government? Isn't that how God parents us?
...I don't know, just a few thoughts. And I could go on and on, and this could lead into an hundred different other thoughts and ideas. But I feel like getting some of this all out in a post will stop the ricochet of the rubber band in my brain just a little. Wish I could go back and answer that question over again. Or at least go back and ask what he meant.

Thanks for humoring me.If you read this whole thing you are weird. And we need to have dinner together some time.
I was listening to Mark Stein the other day and he mentioned this article. I thought it was pretty funny.

The Lion Of My VW Beetle

the curse of having an entomologist as a sister...

Over the weekend I was driving in the dead of night through Wyoming and ran into the late Ted Kennedy... or at least, I think, part of his soul. I was on my way to the Denver airport and had stopped at a gas station where I looked down and there he was! Just sitting there in the open, shining in the dim gas station light.

It was freaky to see him sitting there all calm and not moving... jerusalem crickets scare the hell out of me. The last time I saw one I was sitting around a campfire with Nate and Aaron (also in Wyoming) when one of these crazy critters RAN out of the shadows.. right by our legs!! I swear it was the size of a small mouse!!!.. and kamikazied into the fire pit!!!! THEN DISAPPEARED!!!! IT WAS SO FRIGHTENING AND WEIRD!!! Weirder still is that we couldn't find it... his ugly gross body was nowhere to be found to calm our fears that it really had commit suicide!! What if it got in our tent? What if his friends were in our sleeping bags? It still makes my skin crawl thinking about it!

The one other time I had seen a Jerusalem Cricket was inside a glass jar in my kitchen. Then I was un-informed on what it was, and it's giant baby-like head scared me. I thought it was some sort of baby, and babies in jars always creep me out... but if it was a baby.. why was it already so big? and what sort of insect was it? half spider? half bee?

So I was really unnerved at that gas station, in the middle of the night, seeing that JC just sitting there, not moving... just waiting. I think when I saw him I gasped and clutched my bossom! And I was even more unnerved when I heard McKay's voice come in my brain scolding me for letting it get away again. She loves the bug with all her buggy heart.

I resolved to face my fears and catch the JC for her. I took my time filling up my car, then walked slowly into the convenient store to get a bag to catch it in. I hoped that it would have run along by the time I had gotten back to it. Nope, it was still there... patiently waiting. Maybe it's dead, I hoped, when I bent down to get a better look. As soon as the bag was out and hovering over that damn bugs big-baby-larva-like head it started running for his freedom! When I touched it with my hand through the bag I screamed at how strong and solid he felt when he tried to wiggle away! I didn't dare pick him up... and he was booking it into the nearby field!!! I quickly grabbed my nalgene bottle from inside my car, emptied it, then ran after it. With the nalgene bottle safely covering the little critter it was easy to slide the bag under him... flip it up, shake him down, then double knot the opening! Ted Kennedy was in the bag (sometime during the chase I cursed Ted Kennedy, since he was all npr talked about last week, and the name stuck)!!!

I held it up at eye level to see the bulge at the bottom of the bag... making sure it was still there, and not crawling up my leg. As I stared, that damn democrat started biting through the plastic!!!! I can still see his fangs working, biting on the other side of the white bag! I started screaming again and decided to put him in the nalgene bottle.. those things are indestructible, right?

I slowly poked him down, not daring to touch his actual body, hoping to only touch the plastic bag, whimpering as I did it. Once he was in I screwed the lid on tight... then threw him in the car.

On the road again I called McKay to tell her about my discovery (this was around 2am). She was delighted... and told me to feed Ted a grape, they love grapes! She said she wanted him alive, because they are so friendly and fun to play with... sure they are, sister, sure they are.

As I am driving I hear the bag rustling around, and I turn down the stereo, pick up my nalgene bottle.. and sure enough... Ted Kennedy is out of the bag and just crawling around. What a tenacious little guy, just like the late senator. I put a piece of apple in there with him, and tried to think of something else, ya know, nice things. As I curled up to get some sleep later on that night, I could hear him scuttling around... screaming about socialized medicine, something about how health care is a right not a privilege. I blocked him out, and slept. Woke up later, continued my drive and I'm sorry to say I forgot about him. 48 hours later in Denver... when valet brought me my car, he was dead. Poor Ted.

Now he is in the freezer... I hope McKay finds him useful, for whatever weird thing she uses bugs for. I'm just glad to have his little spirit gone. Ted Kennedy the jerusalem cricket freaked me out.

And The Combo Is...

Over the weekend I was standing on the shore of the Colorado River, and handed Nate probably the biggest skipping stone I could find, and challenged him to skip it. All of us held our breath as Nate held the rock (probably the size of a watermelon) and spun around to throw it. To our utter amazement the rock splashed off the surface of the water into the hugest arc I've ever seen a skipped stone make, and then hit the surface to skip again! All in slow motion too, mind you, it was unbelievable! Truly, had the right officials and record keepers been standing by, it would have set a new world record for the largest stone ever skipped.

But really, I would have been more surprised if the rock hadn't skipped at all. That's just the way things work out with Nate. He reminds me of the character, Finny,  in my favorite book, 'A Separate Peace'. There is a moment in the book when Finny is playing around in the school pool and notices the record-holder for the '100 yard free style' swim, which is posted on a bronze plaque near the pool. The record was 53.0 seconds, swam by A. Hopkins Parker, a boy who graduated before Finny ever got to the school.

Here are some excerpts from the book (written from Finny's friend, Gene's point of view):

"You mean that record has been up there the whole time we've been at Devon and nobody's busted it yet?" It was an insult to the class, and Finny had tremendous loyalty to the class, as he did to any group he belonged to, beginning with him and me and radiating outward past the limits of humanity toward spirits and clouds and stars...
He said blurringly, "I have a feeling I can swim faster than A. Hopkins Parker."
We found a stop watch in the office. He mounted a starting box, leaned forward from the waist as he had seen racing swimmers do but never had occasion to do himself...
...I looked at the watch; he had broken A. Hopkins Parker's record by .7 seconds.
...The Devon School record books contained a mistake, a lie, and nobody knew it but Finny and me. A. Hopkins Parker was living in a fool's paradise, wherever he was. His defeated name remained in bronze on the school record plaque, while Finny deliberately evaded an athletic honor... ...The sports Finny played officially - football, hockey, baseball, lacrosse - didn't have school records. To switch to a new sport suddenly, just for the day, and immediately break a record in it - that was about as neat a trick, as dazzling a reversal as I could, to be perfectly honest, possibly imagine.
..."Swimming in pools is screwy anyway." he said after a long, unusual silence as we walked toward the dormitory. "The only real swimming is in the ocean." Then in the everyday, mediocre tone he used when he was proposing something really outrageous, he added "Let's go to the beach."

I love 'A Separate Peace', I love Finny, and Nate is just like him. Last week Nate and I were hanging out in my room and he was admiring my blue filing cabinet and I lamented that I had never seen the safe door open because my friend Magnus never knew the combo. Nate said "I bet I can open it", pressed his ear to the padlock, twisted the dial.. next thing I knew the door was ajar!

I haven't closed the door yet, because he left and didn't write down the combination. But every time I glance at that open door I am reminded how fun it is to have a Nate Evans in my life. I just love Nate. He is passionate, determined and skilled at everything he puts his mind to, but also operates with the perfect balance of humor, flexibility and style. And even though I feel like he can out-perform me in anything we happen to be doing together, I never feel put down or stupid around him. I think some of the best friends are ones that you don't have to worry about being friends with. There are times when I don't see Nate for weeks on end, or there are times when I see him on the daily. There are times when he doesn't want to come to Provo when there is something fun going on, but then there are times when he comes along (with my family) on lame outings, to organ concerts, so I don't feel so nervous when I see an old love.

There is something so gratifying about a friendship like that: easy, simple, unspoken, honest.

I don't think Nate reads this blog all that often these days, and I'm not even sure why I felt the need to write this. I guess that open safe door in my room just got to me. Not just thinking of Nate, but of all the good people I have in my life that I am lucky enough to call friends and neighbors. There are countless times my life has been truly blessed by the many good examples that surround me. It is over-whelming when I think of all the different personalities that I have learned from and admire. I am a better person because of the people God has placed in my path. And perhaps I have all these people in my life because God knew I needed help opening all the right "doors" to becoming a better wiser human. I still have a long way to go, so thanks for letting me learn from you.

Insta Care

Sam thought he broke his finger last night slam dunking basketballs. I guess his finger got caught in the rim and messed up his middle finger. It was all bloody, and the bone looked disjointed. Sam came home and told me it hurt real bad, and went in the bathroom and popped it back into place. Just to be on the safe side, and because I have been needing a visit myself, we went in for a check-up at the insta care.

 

They were way nice, and instead of making us pay to admit sam, the nurse just looked at his finger and suggested it probably was only dislocated. Gave him a little cast thing for FREE and told him if it doesn’t get better he probably chipped a bone and may need to actually get it looked at.

I admitted myself, and felt pretty stupid that I was in there just for this weird sore on my arm. But really, I have had this sore since at least September of 2007 when I first noticed it, something must be done!

this picture was taken in new york  after the connor oberst concert. sam has the x's on his hands, and right above my green wrist band you can sort of see the weird little sore.

 

The nurse asked me about the bump on my arm, and I told her my dilemma. I told her my other quack of a doctor gave me some cream for it and it didn’t help, and that my sister (mckay) had even performed surgery on it… nothing has worked.

Nurse:  oh, is this sister of yours a nurse?

Me:  no, I just had her cut it out with an exacto knife, and then it grew back.

Nurse: didn’t that hurt?

Me: yeah, it hurt like crazy.

Nurse leaves, doctor comes in.

Doctor: Let’s see what your sister has cut into you. (he looks at it) There is a cyst in there, you are going to need a biopsy to get it out.

Me: Are you sure? My sister didn’t see anything in there when she cut it open.

Doctor: And just what sort of medical background does your sister have?

Me: um… she’s good with blood. Should I just have her have a go at it again?

Doctor: Well since the last surgery obviously failed, I recommend you calling your normal doctor and having him remove it.

Me: Okay, sounds good.

And that's that. Thanks insta care!

Groundhog Day Rant

My brother Sam was watching Groundhog Day last night, so I watched a bit of it with him. Fun movie, I’m a big fan. The only thing I don’t like about that movie is Rita. Last night I finally realized what it was about her that I don’t like… she’s so completely normal it's nauseating. Why would anyone fall in love with someone so dull and boring? You think after Bill Murray has gotten to know everyone in the whole town he would have found someone with more life to them. I mean, the most interesting thing about her is that she studied French poetry!!!! And why would anyone ever want to study that?

Then one night while Rita is falling asleep cuddled up to him, this is what he whispers to her-  “I think you're the kindest, sweetest, prettiest, most wonderful girl I ever met in my life.” Really?! Come on! Is that all he’s got? Is that all she has going for her? After getting to know her day after day after day locked in an eternal time loop this is what he has dug up?… she’s  KIND and SWEET?!!!? Bleh! This makes my stomach knot up just thinking about it. Is that all guys want? Sweet? Kind? Pretty? If the answer is yes, then I will die alone in my parents’ basement with my cat.

Maybe this irks me because I have never had a goal ever in my life to be kind or sweet.  I’m just not that kind of girl. I hate sweet people, and sweet voices… they make me think violent thoughts and say vulgar jokes. To me these should be freebies anyway... shouldn’t we all be kind and sweet? Isn’t that our human nature? Even perverts and psycho paths can be kind. Sure, I’m grateful for kindness. Kindness is a terrific thing to value. But let’s face it, on the value scale - that one seems like the one most easily cultivated.

Give me diligence, integrity, virtue!!! Those are values worth complementing!!! Those are attributes worth aspiring to!!! But also spontaneity, creativity, optimism!!! Give me someone who has more to do on their lunch breaks than go home and take a nap! Or someone who has more to say about themselves than “I like to vacuum”.  Or someone who has just moved to Hawaii, and you ask them how it is, and all they say is “well, we still haven’t found a house, so we’re still living in a hotel” instead of “oh my gosh, I love my life, I live in Hawaii!” Or someone, like Rita (bless her boring heart), who aspires to have romance, a terrific husband, and a family of her own one day, but quit studying French poetry to work at a crappy tv station, and now is just a 30-yr-old fluff brain who has nothing interesting to say. These are real examples here, people, REAL.

Where is the passion? Where is the ambition? Where is the curiosity?

Example: You know when you’re asking for information about someone and they say “oh, she/he is really nice”? That makes me never want to meet that person ever. If that is the first thing that is on the list that describes you, you may need to make a complete life make-over.

If I am ever cuddled up with someone and all they have to say to me is “Whitney, you are just so sweet and kind”, I would punch him in his one-dimensional brain! I can’t imagine anything more ridiculous. And I would have to be a sweet kind soul to have spent any time with a guy who’s only looking for that! I hope that after an eternity trapped in one day that someone wouldn’t settle on just some boring Rita. They would want someone with a little more depth and excitement.

But maybe people don’t want depth. I do. The list I have for my future husband is more than just good and handsome. And I want the person I end up with to have a little more on their list for me to live up to than being kind and pretty.

So, yes, perhaps I will die alone in my parents’ basement with my cat. But I will have more on my shelf than a couple books of old French poetry. Sick.