I'm wishing Harry Merry Birthday because Ron already wished him Happy Christmas so these things need to even out somehow.
Here are a series of unrelated Harry Potter facts for you:
-I first read the seventh Harry Potter book almost exactly seven years after I first read the first Harry Potter book. My journey with Harry really did last literally seven years.
-I try to convince everybody I know to take the Sorting Hat quiz on Pottermore. My family is very diverse in terms of sorting. I'm a Gryffindor. Baby Brother is a Hufflepuff. Dad, Little Sister, and Little Brother are Ravenclaws. I'm still trying to convince Mom, Older Sister, and Baby Sister to take the quiz.
-This year, we celebrated Harry's birthday by drinking butterbeer, watching the third movie, and doing the BeanBoozled challenge. There were vomit-flavored jelly beans involved. Also actual vomit after eating vomit-flavored jelly beans.
-Two years ago for Harry's birthday, the little brothers and I made this ridiculous, completely improvised Lego film.
Friday, July 31, 2015
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Famiglia
Context: This post is about the last day of our New York City trip.
A word before we begin.
I like to travel. I want to see the world. But I will never be one of those true adventurers who can leave home for weeks at a time or who can go away to someplace where you can't call or email or write.
I discovered this when I left home all by myself, no family or friends, for the first time. I took my life savings and went to Europe for two and a half weeks. I loved it; oh, how I loved it. But the whole time, with each experience that I had, I couldn't help but think things like, "Little Sister would love this," and "I wish Mom were here," and "I want to show this to Baby Brother." I became my family's eyes; I wrote them long, detailed emails about Europe so that they could experience it, too. I got souvenirs and chocolate for everybody. When I bought a scarf in Italy, one of the other girls on the trip asked me whom it was for. "It's for me," I said.
"Good," she said, "because I don't think you've bought anything for yourself this entire trip. It seems like everything you've bought is for someone else."
The point is, I've discovered that I like my family too much to ever leave them for long or go too far away. And while New York City was different--part of my family was there, and I called and FaceTimed the rest of them often--I still thought of my siblings and parents often and saw so much of the city through their eyes. And as our trip drew to a close, I found that I was ready to go home.
So. Our last 24 hours in New York City started with a Broadway tour. We saw a ton of theaters. We learned about the history of West Side Story, one of my favorite musicals. Apparently, when it first opened, the kind of gangsters on which the characters were based came to the show. They were offended by the rhythmic, imitation gang speak that the creators of the show developed in lieu of using curses and real slang. "We don't talk like that!" they said. "We don't dance!" And to prove that they were tough, they broke into a costume shop and killed some people. These murders were then also turned into a musical, according to our tour guide. Pretty interesting stuff. My only question is how poor, first- and second-generation immigrant teenagers could afford tickets to a Broadway show in the first place.
We also learned about the brewing possibility of Wicked someday being turned into an animated film, an idea that I strongly approve of. Of course, on modern Broadway, you can't avoid talking about the musical The Book of Mormon. And of course, once our tour guide started, it came up that the four of us were Mormons. Surprise, fellow tour group people! Our tour guide gave us one of the more unusual compliments I've ever received, which is that the people of Broadway really respect the LDS Church because of the way we've handled the existence of a musical that is pretty offensive. The Church has taken advantage of the negative publicity and found ways to make it positive publicity, including taking out an ad in the program and sending missionaries to the theatre with copies of the actual Book of Mormon.
After the tour, dinner at Carmine's. Dr. Godfather recommended this place to us. They serve Italian food there, family-style. So for the second night in a row, we sat down to delicious Italian food: a big plate of angel hair pasta in oil and garlic and a platter of chicken piccata.
Our servers were friendly and funny. One of them, when we told him we were from Utah, made a joke that he could marry all four of us. He told us when we ordered the garlic pasta that it would discourage us from kissing, but made an additional joke that he would give each of us a kiss before we left. If he was our age, this would have been creepy, but he was more of a grandfather age and delivered these jokes in a way that just made us laugh.
As we got ready to leave, he said, "I told you I'd give you each a kiss!" and handed us some Hershey kisses.
What was there to do after dinner? Why, a show, of course.
We'd originally planned to go to only three shows. But as we narrowed down our choices, Older Sister cried, "I just want to see more!"
So we chose four shows. Then we bumped that number up to five. But after the tickets were bought, Older Sister said, "I really wish we could see another one."
That was one of the reasons why she was so loathe to go to Queens; she wanted enough time on Wednesday to stand in line at TKTS to get discount tickets. But on Tuesday, at the end of our SoHo, Chinatown, and Little Italy tour, our tour guide mentioned that she knew an app called TodayTix that lets you purchase discounted tickets without waiting in line.
Older Sister fell in love. Madly, deeply in love. And so it was that her new love, the TodayTix app, got us rather inexpensive tickets to Something Rotten! As in, in the state of Denmark.
Something Rotten! is a brand-new musical, and it's great. Great actors, including Christian Borle and Brian D'arcy James. Great costumes, great set, great music. Great concept. And it was wildly, incredibly, almost unbearably clever. My one complaint is that the show goes out of its way to make inappropriate jokes. What I mean by that is that if I go see a show about, say, two people having an affair, then that show is obviously going to be inappropriate. I should know what I'm getting myself into, and vulgarity is to be expected. It's another thing entirely when I go see a show about subject matter that isn't necessarily inappropriate and the writers feel the need to riddle it with dirty jokes. Does vulgarity have to be introduced into everything?
Either way, Something Rotten! was our last big hurrah in New York. The next morning, we packed up, checked out, and did one last round of leisurely sightseeing.
Our last real stop was Carlo's Bakery. Carlo's Bakery is run by a man named Buddy Valastro and his family. You may otherwise recognize him as the star of Cake Boss. His original bakery is in New Jersey, but they have a second location on Times Square.
We'd passed the bakery a million times over the week we were in New York. "Stop in," the sign read. "You're famiglia!"
That sign had two effects on me. First, I was obviously thrilled that Buddy Valastro would consider me to be part of his family, because the Valastro family seems to be even more obnoxiously wonderful than the Obnoxiouses. The second effect was to make me think about mia famiglia and how much they love Cake Boss and how they would all give, like, their left hands and probably their earlobes or something to join us eating cannoli in Carlo's Bakery.
After Carlo's, it was time to bid farewell to New York City. We reversed our trip from our first day in the city: took our luggage to the subway, selected the train that would take us to Jamaica Station, took an air train to the airport, and boarded our flight back to Salt Lake City. By this time, we were experts in the public transportation system, and nothing untoward happened except that one of security people at the airport grew suspicious of my ankle and pulled me out of line so that she could pat it down. All she found was my polka dot sock.
And so we said goodbye to New York City. There's nothing like it. But then we headed home, and there's nothing like home, either.
We arrived before midnight. Glory left with her boyfriend; our dad picked us and our suitcases up in the family Mormon Assault Vehicle. We burst into the house. Mom was waiting up; so were the children. There were souvenirs all around, almost a hundred dollars' worth of birthday presents for Baby Sister, and a box of cookies from Carlo's bakery for everyone. There were hugs. There was excited chatter. There was laughter.
And so ends our trip to New York. P.S. Older Sister is already talking about when she's going back.
A word before we begin.
I like to travel. I want to see the world. But I will never be one of those true adventurers who can leave home for weeks at a time or who can go away to someplace where you can't call or email or write.
I discovered this when I left home all by myself, no family or friends, for the first time. I took my life savings and went to Europe for two and a half weeks. I loved it; oh, how I loved it. But the whole time, with each experience that I had, I couldn't help but think things like, "Little Sister would love this," and "I wish Mom were here," and "I want to show this to Baby Brother." I became my family's eyes; I wrote them long, detailed emails about Europe so that they could experience it, too. I got souvenirs and chocolate for everybody. When I bought a scarf in Italy, one of the other girls on the trip asked me whom it was for. "It's for me," I said.
"Good," she said, "because I don't think you've bought anything for yourself this entire trip. It seems like everything you've bought is for someone else."
The point is, I've discovered that I like my family too much to ever leave them for long or go too far away. And while New York City was different--part of my family was there, and I called and FaceTimed the rest of them often--I still thought of my siblings and parents often and saw so much of the city through their eyes. And as our trip drew to a close, I found that I was ready to go home.
So. Our last 24 hours in New York City started with a Broadway tour. We saw a ton of theaters. We learned about the history of West Side Story, one of my favorite musicals. Apparently, when it first opened, the kind of gangsters on which the characters were based came to the show. They were offended by the rhythmic, imitation gang speak that the creators of the show developed in lieu of using curses and real slang. "We don't talk like that!" they said. "We don't dance!" And to prove that they were tough, they broke into a costume shop and killed some people. These murders were then also turned into a musical, according to our tour guide. Pretty interesting stuff. My only question is how poor, first- and second-generation immigrant teenagers could afford tickets to a Broadway show in the first place.
We also learned about the brewing possibility of Wicked someday being turned into an animated film, an idea that I strongly approve of. Of course, on modern Broadway, you can't avoid talking about the musical The Book of Mormon. And of course, once our tour guide started, it came up that the four of us were Mormons. Surprise, fellow tour group people! Our tour guide gave us one of the more unusual compliments I've ever received, which is that the people of Broadway really respect the LDS Church because of the way we've handled the existence of a musical that is pretty offensive. The Church has taken advantage of the negative publicity and found ways to make it positive publicity, including taking out an ad in the program and sending missionaries to the theatre with copies of the actual Book of Mormon.
After the tour, dinner at Carmine's. Dr. Godfather recommended this place to us. They serve Italian food there, family-style. So for the second night in a row, we sat down to delicious Italian food: a big plate of angel hair pasta in oil and garlic and a platter of chicken piccata.
Our servers were friendly and funny. One of them, when we told him we were from Utah, made a joke that he could marry all four of us. He told us when we ordered the garlic pasta that it would discourage us from kissing, but made an additional joke that he would give each of us a kiss before we left. If he was our age, this would have been creepy, but he was more of a grandfather age and delivered these jokes in a way that just made us laugh.
As we got ready to leave, he said, "I told you I'd give you each a kiss!" and handed us some Hershey kisses.
What was there to do after dinner? Why, a show, of course.
We'd originally planned to go to only three shows. But as we narrowed down our choices, Older Sister cried, "I just want to see more!"
So we chose four shows. Then we bumped that number up to five. But after the tickets were bought, Older Sister said, "I really wish we could see another one."
That was one of the reasons why she was so loathe to go to Queens; she wanted enough time on Wednesday to stand in line at TKTS to get discount tickets. But on Tuesday, at the end of our SoHo, Chinatown, and Little Italy tour, our tour guide mentioned that she knew an app called TodayTix that lets you purchase discounted tickets without waiting in line.
Older Sister fell in love. Madly, deeply in love. And so it was that her new love, the TodayTix app, got us rather inexpensive tickets to Something Rotten! As in, in the state of Denmark.
Something Rotten! is a brand-new musical, and it's great. Great actors, including Christian Borle and Brian D'arcy James. Great costumes, great set, great music. Great concept. And it was wildly, incredibly, almost unbearably clever. My one complaint is that the show goes out of its way to make inappropriate jokes. What I mean by that is that if I go see a show about, say, two people having an affair, then that show is obviously going to be inappropriate. I should know what I'm getting myself into, and vulgarity is to be expected. It's another thing entirely when I go see a show about subject matter that isn't necessarily inappropriate and the writers feel the need to riddle it with dirty jokes. Does vulgarity have to be introduced into everything?
Either way, Something Rotten! was our last big hurrah in New York. The next morning, we packed up, checked out, and did one last round of leisurely sightseeing.
Our last real stop was Carlo's Bakery. Carlo's Bakery is run by a man named Buddy Valastro and his family. You may otherwise recognize him as the star of Cake Boss. His original bakery is in New Jersey, but they have a second location on Times Square.
We'd passed the bakery a million times over the week we were in New York. "Stop in," the sign read. "You're famiglia!"
That sign had two effects on me. First, I was obviously thrilled that Buddy Valastro would consider me to be part of his family, because the Valastro family seems to be even more obnoxiously wonderful than the Obnoxiouses. The second effect was to make me think about mia famiglia and how much they love Cake Boss and how they would all give, like, their left hands and probably their earlobes or something to join us eating cannoli in Carlo's Bakery.
After Carlo's, it was time to bid farewell to New York City. We reversed our trip from our first day in the city: took our luggage to the subway, selected the train that would take us to Jamaica Station, took an air train to the airport, and boarded our flight back to Salt Lake City. By this time, we were experts in the public transportation system, and nothing untoward happened except that one of security people at the airport grew suspicious of my ankle and pulled me out of line so that she could pat it down. All she found was my polka dot sock.
And so we said goodbye to New York City. There's nothing like it. But then we headed home, and there's nothing like home, either.
We arrived before midnight. Glory left with her boyfriend; our dad picked us and our suitcases up in the family Mormon Assault Vehicle. We burst into the house. Mom was waiting up; so were the children. There were souvenirs all around, almost a hundred dollars' worth of birthday presents for Baby Sister, and a box of cookies from Carlo's bakery for everyone. There were hugs. There was excited chatter. There was laughter.
And so ends our trip to New York. P.S. Older Sister is already talking about when she's going back.
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Calling the Shots
Context: This post is about the eighth day of my New York City trip, which was our seventh day in the city.
It's been a crummy year so far.
My life hasn't been the hardest life; my struggles aren't the hardest struggles. I've had some difficult experiences over the years, but much of what I've lost or given up is made up to me in other ways. I've truly been blessed for my difficulties.
However, I've never had a year quite like 2015. 2015 was bad coming out of the starting gate. Problem after problem has been thrown at me, and the minute I get one problem into a somewhat manageable state, something else is added to the mix. Also, I have not seen many blessings come out of these difficulties...yet. I'm sure there's a purpose to all of this, but it looks like I will have to wait for that purpose to be made manifest.
In the meantime, one of the best ways for me to get through a spot of trouble is to look or plan for things to look forward to. I can get a lot of emotional currency out of the joy of anticipation.
Before the New York City trip, I looked forward to that. I looked forward to the food, the culture, the excitement of going someplace that I'd never, ever been. I especially looked forward to the Jim Henson exhibit at the Museum of the Moving Image.
When we first started planning our trip to New York, my sisters and I made a long list of everything we wanted to do while we were there. I chose the Jim Henson exhibit, which wasn’t open yet, but they promised that, upon the opening in March 2015, exhibit visitors could see 500 Jim Henson artifacts including 25 puppets including Gobo Fraggle!!!
My sisters agreed; Little Sister because she loves Muppets too, Older Sister because she knew I really wanted to go. However, Older Sister was concerned because the museum was in Queens, which is a ways from Times Square. She was so concerned that, from that point until the day before we were scheduled to go to the museum, Older Sister informed anybody and everybody who would listen to her just how far away the Museum of the Moving Image was.
To our parents: “Awkward Mormon Girl really wants to go to this museum that’s far away from everything else.”
To Glory: “The other museum that we’re going to is in Queens, and it’s not by anything else. We’re going because there’s an exhibit there that Awkward Mormon Girl wants to see.”
To Peeta: “We’re going to the Museum of the Moving Image, which is a little far, because Awkward Mormon Girl really wants to go.”
But these comments couldn't ruin my excitement. Nothing could. The exhibit became my happy place. In the months leading up to the trip, each time something difficult happened, I would think, "Jim Henson. Muppets. Fraggles. I am going to see Gobo Fraggle." And nothing could take that away from me.
On Wednesday morning, I got up early and put on my Wembley Fraggle shirt. As I put on my jeans with one hand, I used the other hand to look up information about the exhibit on my iPod.
Some fifteen minutes later, I was frozen in the exact same position, one leg in my jeans, one leg out, staring at the iPod screen.
My sisters and Glory got up and prepared for the day. As Older Sister began to make her usual comments about how far we had to go, I blurted out something like, "The exhibit opening was delayed. It's not open." And then I started to cry. In a year of disappointments, it was just one disappointment too many.
Then I flung myself upon my and Little Sister's hotel bed and gave up on life. At least, I gave up on going downstairs for breakfast. Because, as Anne Shirley says, how can one eat when they're in the depths of despair?
My sisters and Glory were sad on my behalf. Before they went to get breakfast, Older Sister said, "We'll do whatever you want when we get back."
I unenthusiastically flipped through my guidebook. Jewish Children's Museum? In Brooklyn, which is almost as far away as Queens. Children's Television Workshop? Apparently they don't do tours. What in the name of Jim Henson was there to do in New York City? Answer: everything. But what was there for a disappointed girl in her twenties who has very specific interests?
Then I remembered something that I wanted to see.
When Older Sister, Little Sister, and Glory returned, I made a grand announcement in the style of Sokka: "I WOULD LIKE TO SPEND MY VACATION AT THE LIBRARY!" Except I made this announcement without yelling. Or pointing my finger dramatically in the air. Or saying those words. But in my mind, it was in the style of Sokka.
Instead, I very normally told them that I wanted to go the New York Public Library. And to the NBC store to look for a birthday gift for Baby Sister. And then, we had to stop and have an interesting, real lunch--not a tiny, hurried lunch.
Older Sister, our leader, agreed to my terms. She also suggested that we go to the Magnolia Bakery, a place that I'd heard had amazing cupcakes but which we previously had not had time to go to, and to the American Girl Doll Place.
So, over the course of just a few hours, we did the Make Awkward Mormon Girl Feel Better Tour of New York City.
First stop: Magnolia Bakery. Older Sister seemed to be skeptical of my assurances that this bakery had famously delicious cupcakes. So it was validating to arrive at the bakery and learn that they had a separate line just for selling cupcakes. I bought a chocolate cupcake; Little Sister bought a coconut cream cupcake. The workers boxed our cupcakes in adorable little boxes. We ate them later, back in the hotel room. My cupcake was simple, but amazing. The chocolate buttercream frosting was to die for.
Second stop: the NBC store in the Rockefeller Center. Supposedly, they sell a lot of cool TV show stuff, but there wasn't much. This may have been due to the fact that about half the store seemed to be roped off for some reason. I did not get Baby Sister a present there. However, in the Rockefeller Center, Older Sister and Glory decided to drop in what would be aptly called The Most Expensive Chocolate Shop Ever. They bought a $5 macaron that they then split. The shop workers, probably feeling sorry for how poor we were, also offered us each a small sample of a rich, dark chocolate.
Third stop: The American Girl Doll Place. I wished that I was still ten years old, or that I'd at least brought my American Girl doll to New York with me, because this place was great. You could shop for your doll, get your hair done with your doll, and buy both real treats and plastic doll treats at the little bakery. There were even doll holders in the bathroom stalls. We looked at eating lunch at the cafe, but a plate of food was almost as much as my doll Molly's school outfit cost.
Fourth stop: the New York Public Library!!! The famous lions were featured in the Jim Henson Company show Between the Lions, which meant that it was a vaguely Muppet-related place. Also, libraries and I are like chocolate and hazelnut. Which is to say that we are a delicious combination that works well together. I took a picture with one of the stone lions. What I really wanted was a picture of the whole front of the library, but we were too close. Also, this guy complimented me on my Wembley Fraggle shirt, which I said thanks to, which he took as a sign that I wanted him to tell me all about Greenpeace. We fled into the library to escape him, and also because, again, libraries.
After that, I reminded Older Sister that part of the Make Awkward Mormon Girl Feel Better Tour of New York City was to get lunch. Real lunch. She protested that she wanted quickie lunch, but I reminded her that I had specified lunch up front as one of my needs. So we ate at this place called The Kati Roll Company, which was basically Indian food but in wraps. The things you find in New York City. We ate these wraps sitting at an outdoor market area, where we also obtained some more (cheaper) macarons.
Thus ended the Make Awkward Mormon Girl Feel Better Tour of New York City. It didn't make up for my disappointment, but I so appreciated the efforts of my sisters and Glory. And (supposedly) the Jim Henson exhibit opens before the end of this year, so if I ever go to NYC again, I can check it out. It's something to look forward to.
My life hasn't been the hardest life; my struggles aren't the hardest struggles. I've had some difficult experiences over the years, but much of what I've lost or given up is made up to me in other ways. I've truly been blessed for my difficulties.
However, I've never had a year quite like 2015. 2015 was bad coming out of the starting gate. Problem after problem has been thrown at me, and the minute I get one problem into a somewhat manageable state, something else is added to the mix. Also, I have not seen many blessings come out of these difficulties...yet. I'm sure there's a purpose to all of this, but it looks like I will have to wait for that purpose to be made manifest.
In the meantime, one of the best ways for me to get through a spot of trouble is to look or plan for things to look forward to. I can get a lot of emotional currency out of the joy of anticipation.
Before the New York City trip, I looked forward to that. I looked forward to the food, the culture, the excitement of going someplace that I'd never, ever been. I especially looked forward to the Jim Henson exhibit at the Museum of the Moving Image.
When we first started planning our trip to New York, my sisters and I made a long list of everything we wanted to do while we were there. I chose the Jim Henson exhibit, which wasn’t open yet, but they promised that, upon the opening in March 2015, exhibit visitors could see 500 Jim Henson artifacts including 25 puppets including Gobo Fraggle!!!
My sisters agreed; Little Sister because she loves Muppets too, Older Sister because she knew I really wanted to go. However, Older Sister was concerned because the museum was in Queens, which is a ways from Times Square. She was so concerned that, from that point until the day before we were scheduled to go to the museum, Older Sister informed anybody and everybody who would listen to her just how far away the Museum of the Moving Image was.
To our parents: “Awkward Mormon Girl really wants to go to this museum that’s far away from everything else.”
To Glory: “The other museum that we’re going to is in Queens, and it’s not by anything else. We’re going because there’s an exhibit there that Awkward Mormon Girl wants to see.”
To Peeta: “We’re going to the Museum of the Moving Image, which is a little far, because Awkward Mormon Girl really wants to go.”
But these comments couldn't ruin my excitement. Nothing could. The exhibit became my happy place. In the months leading up to the trip, each time something difficult happened, I would think, "Jim Henson. Muppets. Fraggles. I am going to see Gobo Fraggle." And nothing could take that away from me.
On Wednesday morning, I got up early and put on my Wembley Fraggle shirt. As I put on my jeans with one hand, I used the other hand to look up information about the exhibit on my iPod.
Some fifteen minutes later, I was frozen in the exact same position, one leg in my jeans, one leg out, staring at the iPod screen.
My sisters and Glory got up and prepared for the day. As Older Sister began to make her usual comments about how far we had to go, I blurted out something like, "The exhibit opening was delayed. It's not open." And then I started to cry. In a year of disappointments, it was just one disappointment too many.
Then I flung myself upon my and Little Sister's hotel bed and gave up on life. At least, I gave up on going downstairs for breakfast. Because, as Anne Shirley says, how can one eat when they're in the depths of despair?
My sisters and Glory were sad on my behalf. Before they went to get breakfast, Older Sister said, "We'll do whatever you want when we get back."
I unenthusiastically flipped through my guidebook. Jewish Children's Museum? In Brooklyn, which is almost as far away as Queens. Children's Television Workshop? Apparently they don't do tours. What in the name of Jim Henson was there to do in New York City? Answer: everything. But what was there for a disappointed girl in her twenties who has very specific interests?
Then I remembered something that I wanted to see.
When Older Sister, Little Sister, and Glory returned, I made a grand announcement in the style of Sokka: "I WOULD LIKE TO SPEND MY VACATION AT THE LIBRARY!" Except I made this announcement without yelling. Or pointing my finger dramatically in the air. Or saying those words. But in my mind, it was in the style of Sokka.
Instead, I very normally told them that I wanted to go the New York Public Library. And to the NBC store to look for a birthday gift for Baby Sister. And then, we had to stop and have an interesting, real lunch--not a tiny, hurried lunch.
Older Sister, our leader, agreed to my terms. She also suggested that we go to the Magnolia Bakery, a place that I'd heard had amazing cupcakes but which we previously had not had time to go to, and to the American Girl Doll Place.
So, over the course of just a few hours, we did the Make Awkward Mormon Girl Feel Better Tour of New York City.
First stop: Magnolia Bakery. Older Sister seemed to be skeptical of my assurances that this bakery had famously delicious cupcakes. So it was validating to arrive at the bakery and learn that they had a separate line just for selling cupcakes. I bought a chocolate cupcake; Little Sister bought a coconut cream cupcake. The workers boxed our cupcakes in adorable little boxes. We ate them later, back in the hotel room. My cupcake was simple, but amazing. The chocolate buttercream frosting was to die for.
Second stop: the NBC store in the Rockefeller Center. Supposedly, they sell a lot of cool TV show stuff, but there wasn't much. This may have been due to the fact that about half the store seemed to be roped off for some reason. I did not get Baby Sister a present there. However, in the Rockefeller Center, Older Sister and Glory decided to drop in what would be aptly called The Most Expensive Chocolate Shop Ever. They bought a $5 macaron that they then split. The shop workers, probably feeling sorry for how poor we were, also offered us each a small sample of a rich, dark chocolate.
Third stop: The American Girl Doll Place. I wished that I was still ten years old, or that I'd at least brought my American Girl doll to New York with me, because this place was great. You could shop for your doll, get your hair done with your doll, and buy both real treats and plastic doll treats at the little bakery. There were even doll holders in the bathroom stalls. We looked at eating lunch at the cafe, but a plate of food was almost as much as my doll Molly's school outfit cost.
Fourth stop: the New York Public Library!!! The famous lions were featured in the Jim Henson Company show Between the Lions, which meant that it was a vaguely Muppet-related place. Also, libraries and I are like chocolate and hazelnut. Which is to say that we are a delicious combination that works well together. I took a picture with one of the stone lions. What I really wanted was a picture of the whole front of the library, but we were too close. Also, this guy complimented me on my Wembley Fraggle shirt, which I said thanks to, which he took as a sign that I wanted him to tell me all about Greenpeace. We fled into the library to escape him, and also because, again, libraries.
After that, I reminded Older Sister that part of the Make Awkward Mormon Girl Feel Better Tour of New York City was to get lunch. Real lunch. She protested that she wanted quickie lunch, but I reminded her that I had specified lunch up front as one of my needs. So we ate at this place called The Kati Roll Company, which was basically Indian food but in wraps. The things you find in New York City. We ate these wraps sitting at an outdoor market area, where we also obtained some more (cheaper) macarons.
Thus ended the Make Awkward Mormon Girl Feel Better Tour of New York City. It didn't make up for my disappointment, but I so appreciated the efforts of my sisters and Glory. And (supposedly) the Jim Henson exhibit opens before the end of this year, so if I ever go to NYC again, I can check it out. It's something to look forward to.
Saturday, July 25, 2015
Only in New York
Context: This post is about the seventh day of my New York City trip, which was our sixth day in the city.
When I last left you, Older Sister, Little Sister, Glory, Peeta, and I were standing on top of the Rockefeller Center.
That was Monday night. We bid Peeta farewell, walked back to our hotel, and slept. On Tuesday, we went on a walking tour of SoHo, Chinatown, and Little Italy. At least, that's what it was advertised as. In reality, it could have been the Tour of Death. Our scratchy-voiced tour guide pointed out the building on the site of the murder that precipitated the first recorded murder trial in U.S. history. She pointed out the SoHo apartment where Heath Ledger was found dead. She showed us the Bloody Angle, a hooked little street notorious back when the ax gangs terrorized the underground passages of Chinatown. She told us stories about Mafia killings, except she informed us that throughout the tour she was going to refer to the Mafia as "the Family" to avoid the ire of an elderly lady who apparently roams the streets of Little Italy looking for people who are talking about the Mafia so that she can shove her little dog in their faces and yell, "You're being disrespectful!" The tour guide's strategy seemed to work, for we avoided an encounter with said elderly lady, but every so often our tour guide would also talk about real families, as in saying things like, "When my family visits..." Some of the other people on the tour spoke English as a second language, and I wondered if they understood the distinction.
Oh, also, in between the official tour narration the tour guide told a story about a friend of hers who bought a house in Brooklyn. The friend was excited because there was a great garden space out back where plants were growing like crazy. Long story short, the friend was digging around in the garden and uncovered a human body.
Only in New York, folks. And only in New York do you get the chic of Soho mashed up against a little piece of Italy and then you turn the corner and surprise! Leftover Chinese New Year decorations everywhere.
SoHo is SoHo; I'm not sure what I would compare it to. I also have no real frame of reference for Chinatown, but I had an excellent time there. There were wares everywhere. Spices, seafood, silk dresses with mandarin collars. We bought souvenirs there; Glory was brave enough to actually bargain and haggle about the prices. I ate two kinds of dumplings there, fried pork dumplings and boiled seafood dumplings. I've never been a huge fan of dumplings, but Pepper, who is part Chinese, insists that dumplings/potstickers are the best and most authentic of Chinese fare. So I've been trying to get more into them. The ones I had were excellent.
What I do have a frame of reference for is Little Italy. I am pleased to tell you that Little Italy is a lot like Italy, just...little. We ate cannolis there, and they tasted like legitimate Italian cannolis. The gelato tasted like the gelato I ate every day during the two and a half weeks I was in Europe; the chocolate chip gelato in Little Italy was even called "stracciatella" like it is in real Italy. The men were flirtatious: as we walked through the streets, the ones advertising their restaurants called out to us, calling us "bellas."
We chose to eat dinner at a restaurant called La Bella Vita, where we were served the kind of Italian food you can't get in Hometown. There were even baskets of bread with olive oil and balsamic vinegar at our table. "Only in Italy," I would have said before, but also, I now saw, in New York.
The final show that we had tickets for was Finding Neverland, a musical adaptation of the movie starring Matthew Morrison aka the guy from Glee and Kelsey Grammer aka the voice of Vlad from Anastasia. After our early, delicious dinner in Little Italy, we went back to our hotel, changed, and set out for Finding Neverland.
As a collective piece of art, Finding Neverland had a lot of issues. Mostly script issues. But individual parts of the show were astounding. The actors did a good job. Kelsey Grammer particularly was impeccable. There was a beautiful shadow dance scene, a song called "Play" that I fell in love with, and a perfect, perfect death scene for Sylvia. Peter Pan leads her out of the nursery window, leaving behind her shawl. The shawl was caught up in a mini cyclone of wind and pixie dust glitter, circling slowly, hauntingly. Perfect. Perfect. And only in New York.
That was Tuesday. The next day was Wednesday, the day we were going to see the Jim Henson exhibit at the Museum of the Moving Image. We would see artifacts that had belonged to a great artist. We would see Fraggle puppets.
What a marvelous city! Only in New York could there be a thing like this exhibit. I couldn't wait.
When I last left you, Older Sister, Little Sister, Glory, Peeta, and I were standing on top of the Rockefeller Center.
That was Monday night. We bid Peeta farewell, walked back to our hotel, and slept. On Tuesday, we went on a walking tour of SoHo, Chinatown, and Little Italy. At least, that's what it was advertised as. In reality, it could have been the Tour of Death. Our scratchy-voiced tour guide pointed out the building on the site of the murder that precipitated the first recorded murder trial in U.S. history. She pointed out the SoHo apartment where Heath Ledger was found dead. She showed us the Bloody Angle, a hooked little street notorious back when the ax gangs terrorized the underground passages of Chinatown. She told us stories about Mafia killings, except she informed us that throughout the tour she was going to refer to the Mafia as "the Family" to avoid the ire of an elderly lady who apparently roams the streets of Little Italy looking for people who are talking about the Mafia so that she can shove her little dog in their faces and yell, "You're being disrespectful!" The tour guide's strategy seemed to work, for we avoided an encounter with said elderly lady, but every so often our tour guide would also talk about real families, as in saying things like, "When my family visits..." Some of the other people on the tour spoke English as a second language, and I wondered if they understood the distinction.
Oh, also, in between the official tour narration the tour guide told a story about a friend of hers who bought a house in Brooklyn. The friend was excited because there was a great garden space out back where plants were growing like crazy. Long story short, the friend was digging around in the garden and uncovered a human body.
Only in New York, folks. And only in New York do you get the chic of Soho mashed up against a little piece of Italy and then you turn the corner and surprise! Leftover Chinese New Year decorations everywhere.
SoHo is SoHo; I'm not sure what I would compare it to. I also have no real frame of reference for Chinatown, but I had an excellent time there. There were wares everywhere. Spices, seafood, silk dresses with mandarin collars. We bought souvenirs there; Glory was brave enough to actually bargain and haggle about the prices. I ate two kinds of dumplings there, fried pork dumplings and boiled seafood dumplings. I've never been a huge fan of dumplings, but Pepper, who is part Chinese, insists that dumplings/potstickers are the best and most authentic of Chinese fare. So I've been trying to get more into them. The ones I had were excellent.
What I do have a frame of reference for is Little Italy. I am pleased to tell you that Little Italy is a lot like Italy, just...little. We ate cannolis there, and they tasted like legitimate Italian cannolis. The gelato tasted like the gelato I ate every day during the two and a half weeks I was in Europe; the chocolate chip gelato in Little Italy was even called "stracciatella" like it is in real Italy. The men were flirtatious: as we walked through the streets, the ones advertising their restaurants called out to us, calling us "bellas."
We chose to eat dinner at a restaurant called La Bella Vita, where we were served the kind of Italian food you can't get in Hometown. There were even baskets of bread with olive oil and balsamic vinegar at our table. "Only in Italy," I would have said before, but also, I now saw, in New York.
The final show that we had tickets for was Finding Neverland, a musical adaptation of the movie starring Matthew Morrison aka the guy from Glee and Kelsey Grammer aka the voice of Vlad from Anastasia. After our early, delicious dinner in Little Italy, we went back to our hotel, changed, and set out for Finding Neverland.
As a collective piece of art, Finding Neverland had a lot of issues. Mostly script issues. But individual parts of the show were astounding. The actors did a good job. Kelsey Grammer particularly was impeccable. There was a beautiful shadow dance scene, a song called "Play" that I fell in love with, and a perfect, perfect death scene for Sylvia. Peter Pan leads her out of the nursery window, leaving behind her shawl. The shawl was caught up in a mini cyclone of wind and pixie dust glitter, circling slowly, hauntingly. Perfect. Perfect. And only in New York.
That was Tuesday. The next day was Wednesday, the day we were going to see the Jim Henson exhibit at the Museum of the Moving Image. We would see artifacts that had belonged to a great artist. We would see Fraggle puppets.
What a marvelous city! Only in New York could there be a thing like this exhibit. I couldn't wait.
Friday, July 24, 2015
Things That Work Out
It's the 24th of July aka Pioneer Day! Let's all be grateful for the persevering spirit of the pioneers and for their bravery in never giving up.
Two years ago, I saw Snow Angel at the Hometown 24th of July carnival.
Snow Angel is a member of my improv comedy troupe. For a few months, I had seen her hanging around with another member of our troupe, the Ladies' Man. I did theatre with the Ladies' Man in junior high and high school and, as his name suggests, he was always flirting casually with a number of smitten girls. We all wondered if there would ever be a girl that dazzled him enough to cure him of his flirtatious ways.
Years later, when I first saw him with Snow Angel, it was like being struck with a bolt of epiphany-giving lightning. For the first time ever, I looked at one of the Ladies' Man's flirtationships and thought, "Hey, this could go somewhere!" I started shipping them. Hard.
So, that 24th of July, I inquired of Snow Angel how things were going with the Ladies' Man.
She became sorrowful. "We're just friends," she said. She wanted more, but he didn't.
I also became sorrowful. Snow Angel was perfect for the Ladies' Man. Why couldn't he see that?
"Well," I said, "maybe it will work out."
"Oh, no," said Snow Angel.
"Well, it could," I said.
"No," Snow Angel said firmly. "It won't."
A little taken aback, I took my leave of her.
That was two years ago. This 24th of July, Snow Angel and the Ladies' Man are happily engaged.
"It's all because of you!" Snow Angel exclaimed when she showed me her ring. Which I felt was a very untrue statement until she qualified it: "I was so sure it wouldn't work out. But then you told me that it could work out, and then I started thinking, 'Oh. Maybe it could!"
You're probably wondering what the point of this story is. The point is that you should never underestimate the power of positive thinking. Another point is that things really can, and do, work out. Not always that nicely...but they do. Another point is that I shipped some people and now they are getting married. And sometimes I am awesome. And that the 24th of July is awesome. The End.
Two years ago, I saw Snow Angel at the Hometown 24th of July carnival.
Snow Angel is a member of my improv comedy troupe. For a few months, I had seen her hanging around with another member of our troupe, the Ladies' Man. I did theatre with the Ladies' Man in junior high and high school and, as his name suggests, he was always flirting casually with a number of smitten girls. We all wondered if there would ever be a girl that dazzled him enough to cure him of his flirtatious ways.
Years later, when I first saw him with Snow Angel, it was like being struck with a bolt of epiphany-giving lightning. For the first time ever, I looked at one of the Ladies' Man's flirtationships and thought, "Hey, this could go somewhere!" I started shipping them. Hard.
So, that 24th of July, I inquired of Snow Angel how things were going with the Ladies' Man.
She became sorrowful. "We're just friends," she said. She wanted more, but he didn't.
I also became sorrowful. Snow Angel was perfect for the Ladies' Man. Why couldn't he see that?
"Well," I said, "maybe it will work out."
"Oh, no," said Snow Angel.
"Well, it could," I said.
"No," Snow Angel said firmly. "It won't."
A little taken aback, I took my leave of her.
That was two years ago. This 24th of July, Snow Angel and the Ladies' Man are happily engaged.
"It's all because of you!" Snow Angel exclaimed when she showed me her ring. Which I felt was a very untrue statement until she qualified it: "I was so sure it wouldn't work out. But then you told me that it could work out, and then I started thinking, 'Oh. Maybe it could!"
You're probably wondering what the point of this story is. The point is that you should never underestimate the power of positive thinking. Another point is that things really can, and do, work out. Not always that nicely...but they do. Another point is that I shipped some people and now they are getting married. And sometimes I am awesome. And that the 24th of July is awesome. The End.
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
My First Stitch Fix Experience
So when you sign up for Stitch Fix, the first thing they ask you to do is create a style profile.
Basically, this consisted of Stitch Fix asking me a bunch of questions whose answers were far more complicated than you would think.
STITCH FIX: What is the size of your jean waist?
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Theoretically, the waist is the tapering point of a girl's torso, but in actuality I seem unable to locate my waist. I've measured what I think is my waist with the Seamstress's measuring tape five times, and the result was never the same. So here's the number that seems most accurate to me. Crossing my fingers that it's right.
STITCH FIX: How often do you dress in business casual clothes/for work?
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Most of the time.
STITCH FIX: How often do you dress in laid back casual clothes?
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Also most of the time. Which makes no mathematical sense yet is somehow true.
STITCH FIX: Is your jewelry mostly classic jewelry or mostly statement jewelry?
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Mostly classic, though I have some statement jewelry. I don't know why you call it "statement" jewelry, though. It just seems to be bigger and weirder than classic jewelry. I literally saw a bunch of big, plastic flower jewelry with rhinestones that was being sold under a "Make a Statement" label at Target. But I feel like the only statement those necklaces make is that you think big, plastic flower jewelry with rhinestones is good fashion.
Then Stitch Fix asked me to write a note with any additional information that they should know. I started to tell them important stuff, like my life story, but they had a strict character limit so I just ended up telling them “I'm an endowed member of the LDS church, so I wear special garments under my clothes. Items shouldn't be too low-cut, back-baring, shoulder-baring or too short (just above the knees is probably fine) unless they can be layered. I need business-casual clothes for work, casual clothes for after work, and dressier clothes for church and other events.”
The second thing that I did after signing up for Stitch Fix was schedule my first Fix. To schedule a Fix, I paid $20 up front. This $20 covered the cost of styling the box, but it also went towards anything I decided to purchase. I would only lose the money if I decided not to keep any of the items in the box. I also had to choose what day I wanted my Fix to arrive. I scheduled it for a Thursday so that I could take the weekend to examine the clothes I received. Stitch Fix also asked me to write another note that mentioned any specific items I needed or wanted in this Fix, so I wrote something like, “I am in need of long shorts and some fun date outfits.”
The last thing I did was go on Pinterest and pin a bunch of clothes. I heard that the best way to get stuff you like from Stitch Fix is to create a Pinterest board and then put a link in your Stitch Fix style profile, so I pinned like 54,285,342 pins. I pinned so many pins that whereas Pinterest used to mostly recommend food, quotes, and geeky stuff pins to me, they began to recommend a ton of clothing pins. Not sure how I feel about this.
The next two weeks were spent in excitement. I’m not a super clothes-oriented person; in fact, I usually go out of my way to buy the cheapest clothing possible. However, I once had an institute teacher who said that one of the keys to happiness was to have something to look forward to. Therefore, I always try to give myself something to look forward to. Sometimes that thing is going to New York City; sometimes it’s completing college; sometimes it’s a new movie or a new book coming out; sometimes it’s a special or fun event; sometimes it’s spending time with someone I love. And sometimes, that thing is a mysterious box of fun new clothing picked out for me by a stylish stranger.
For me, the fun of the anticipation alone was almost worth the $20.
Then, the day before my Fix was scheduled to arrive, I received a text…
Little Sister: YOUR CLOTHES ARE HERE!
I zoomed to my parents’ house to pick up my package (because I have all my mail sent to my parents’ house due to my landlord’s philosophy about mail, which is to deposit all the mail into a locked box and open it only when bills are due). Older Sister and Little Sister were excited for me and wanted me to open the box right away, so I did.
Opening the box was like an episode of a soap opera. First the excitement as I tried to rip open the tape on the box with my keys (this failed, because my keys are not pointy enough). Then the agony of the slowness ripping the tape off with my bare hands. Then the panic right before I opened the box.
“What if I hate all of it?!” I exclaimed. But, with the encouragement of my sisters, I separated the flaps and removed the envelope with the stylist’s note.
Here’s what it said:
Hi Awkward Mormon Girl! I had so much fun styling you for your first Fix, and welcome to the Stitch Fix Family!
I’d seen other people’s stylist notes online, all of which seemed to end in XO. Is that signoff required? No matter. I set the note aside and pulled out the tissue-paper wrapped bundles.
I wish I had taken a picture of the bundle of clothing (next time!). The side view of a Fix is a thing to behold, and mine was no exception. I let out an audible noise of admiration as I looked at the beautiful layers of color and texture.
“Look!” I said, showing my sisters.
“What am I looking at?” Older Sister asked.
I tried to explain the loveliness of just looking at the stack of clothing, but I soon gave up in favor of opening the package. Here's the side view of someone else's Fix:
This is what my items looked like collectively:
And individually:
Mavi Huntter Cuffed Short: I had never, ever before considered buying cuffed denim shorts. It surprised me that I actually really liked these shorts. However, they were not only too big (curse you, inexplicable failure to measure waist correctly!), they didn’t reach my knees as my stylist had hoped. They were a longer pair of shorts, but they were still too short for garments. And the final issue—the little rips in the denim also revealed my garments. Verdict: Send back.
Le Lis Elyott Dress: I really liked the fabric of this dress. It was navy blue, which I liked, and had polka dots, which I also am a fan of. The fit was right for my body, but once again, too short for garments. Verdict: Send back.
Market & Spruce Soyer Henley Top: At first sight, this blouse was the one item I was sure that I would keep. I loved the colors and the pattern. However, when I put it on, I discovered that the shoulder seams fell really far forward. They reached my clavicle. This resulted in the neckline gaping strangely. I thought about asking my mom to alter the shoulders so that I could keep it, but I decided that if I had to do that much work to get it to fit, it wasn’t worth it. Verdict: Send back.
Brixon Ivy Eugene Swiss Dot Blouse: Initially, I didn’t like this blouse as much as the other one. However, when I tried it on, it fit really well, and I found that I liked the way it looked. I tried it with different undershirts, with jeans, with a pencil skirt, and with my favorite necklace. The more things I tried it with, the more I liked it. There was a button missing, which irked, especially because it was one of the more expensive items in the Fix. But there was an extra button included with the blouse, which I could sew on myself. Verdict: Keep.
Then there was this necklace. I went back and forth on it like every fifteen minutes for the next twenty-four hours.
ME: I don’t really wear beaded necklaces.
ALSO ME: Maybe now is the time to start. The coral and gold is so pretty!
ME: For a necklace, it’s expensive.
ALSO ME: Expensive, but not out of your price range.
ME: What would I wear it with?
ALSO ME: Good question.
What would go with a coral and gold beaded necklace? I tried it with the white blouse, but it didn’t go very well with the neckline. My stylist recommended that I wear it with the polka dot dress she sent, but as I wasn’t keeping the polka dot dress that thought wasn’t exactly useful. Stitch Fix sent me style cards that show different ways to wear each piece of clothing, but the style card for the necklace just had the name of the necklace on it. I guess they don’t give styling tips for their jewelry? Boo. Finally, I remembered that I had 48,258 navy blue t-shirts and probably like 52% as many gray t-shirts. This necklace would be an excellent way to dress those t-shirts up, especially when worn with the Mokey Fraggle that I got for New York. Verdict: Keep.
Once I decided what I wanted to keep, I logged on to my Stitch Fix profile and checked out. In the checking-out process, Stitch Fix asked for my feedback on both the items I kept and the ones that I didn’t. They say that the more specific your feedback, the better your next Fix will be. My feedback was very specific about what I liked and what I didn’t, what worked for me and what didn’t, the missing button, and the pricing of their items. We’ll see how this affects my next Fix.
After I checked out, I put the items I wasn’t keeping in a prepaid envelope and mailed them back to Stitch Fix. Stitch Fix gives you three days to check out and mail the items back. I was worried when my Stitch Fix came early that they would expect me to check out earlier, too, but they gave me three days from when the Fix was scheduled to arrive, which I appreciated.
My overall thoughts? Stitch Fix was a lot of fun. It’s not exactly bargain shopping, but if you hate to shop/love surprises and have a little extra money, it’s pretty great. I felt like my stylist did a great job. Even though not all the items worked for me, I liked everything I got. I could tell that Jessica V. paid attention to my style profile (the tops fit perfectly and it seemed like she tried to accommodate my garments), the note I’d written to go with the Fix (she referenced the shorts and the date outfit I’d asked for), and my Pinterest board (I’d pinned a lot of polka dots and some coral items).
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed exploring Stitch Fix vicariously through me. And if you wanna try it for yourself, go ahead and try it. << If you use this link to sign up, I will receive referral credit.
Basically, this consisted of Stitch Fix asking me a bunch of questions whose answers were far more complicated than you would think.
STITCH FIX: What is the size of your jean waist?
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Theoretically, the waist is the tapering point of a girl's torso, but in actuality I seem unable to locate my waist. I've measured what I think is my waist with the Seamstress's measuring tape five times, and the result was never the same. So here's the number that seems most accurate to me. Crossing my fingers that it's right.
STITCH FIX: How often do you dress in business casual clothes/for work?
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Most of the time.
STITCH FIX: How often do you dress in laid back casual clothes?
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Also most of the time. Which makes no mathematical sense yet is somehow true.
STITCH FIX: Is your jewelry mostly classic jewelry or mostly statement jewelry?
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Mostly classic, though I have some statement jewelry. I don't know why you call it "statement" jewelry, though. It just seems to be bigger and weirder than classic jewelry. I literally saw a bunch of big, plastic flower jewelry with rhinestones that was being sold under a "Make a Statement" label at Target. But I feel like the only statement those necklaces make is that you think big, plastic flower jewelry with rhinestones is good fashion.
Then Stitch Fix asked me to write a note with any additional information that they should know. I started to tell them important stuff, like my life story, but they had a strict character limit so I just ended up telling them “I'm an endowed member of the LDS church, so I wear special garments under my clothes. Items shouldn't be too low-cut, back-baring, shoulder-baring or too short (just above the knees is probably fine) unless they can be layered. I need business-casual clothes for work, casual clothes for after work, and dressier clothes for church and other events.”
The second thing that I did after signing up for Stitch Fix was schedule my first Fix. To schedule a Fix, I paid $20 up front. This $20 covered the cost of styling the box, but it also went towards anything I decided to purchase. I would only lose the money if I decided not to keep any of the items in the box. I also had to choose what day I wanted my Fix to arrive. I scheduled it for a Thursday so that I could take the weekend to examine the clothes I received. Stitch Fix also asked me to write another note that mentioned any specific items I needed or wanted in this Fix, so I wrote something like, “I am in need of long shorts and some fun date outfits.”
The last thing I did was go on Pinterest and pin a bunch of clothes. I heard that the best way to get stuff you like from Stitch Fix is to create a Pinterest board and then put a link in your Stitch Fix style profile, so I pinned like 54,285,342 pins. I pinned so many pins that whereas Pinterest used to mostly recommend food, quotes, and geeky stuff pins to me, they began to recommend a ton of clothing pins. Not sure how I feel about this.
The next two weeks were spent in excitement. I’m not a super clothes-oriented person; in fact, I usually go out of my way to buy the cheapest clothing possible. However, I once had an institute teacher who said that one of the keys to happiness was to have something to look forward to. Therefore, I always try to give myself something to look forward to. Sometimes that thing is going to New York City; sometimes it’s completing college; sometimes it’s a new movie or a new book coming out; sometimes it’s a special or fun event; sometimes it’s spending time with someone I love. And sometimes, that thing is a mysterious box of fun new clothing picked out for me by a stylish stranger.
For me, the fun of the anticipation alone was almost worth the $20.
Then, the day before my Fix was scheduled to arrive, I received a text…
Little Sister: YOUR CLOTHES ARE HERE!
I zoomed to my parents’ house to pick up my package (because I have all my mail sent to my parents’ house due to my landlord’s philosophy about mail, which is to deposit all the mail into a locked box and open it only when bills are due). Older Sister and Little Sister were excited for me and wanted me to open the box right away, so I did.
Opening the box was like an episode of a soap opera. First the excitement as I tried to rip open the tape on the box with my keys (this failed, because my keys are not pointy enough). Then the agony of the slowness ripping the tape off with my bare hands. Then the panic right before I opened the box.
“What if I hate all of it?!” I exclaimed. But, with the encouragement of my sisters, I separated the flaps and removed the envelope with the stylist’s note.
Here’s what it said:
Hi Awkward Mormon Girl! I had so much fun styling you for your first Fix, and welcome to the Stitch Fix Family!
Oh, so we're a family now? Did not know that was a thing.
Try the Elyott Dress for a fun date night option, I love this dress with the Marianna Layered Beaded Necklace and a cute pair of flats. I did not have any shorts that were knee length but I think the Huntter Cuffed Shorts will hit just slightly above your knee, I hope these work out. The Huntter Cuffed Short look so cute with the Eugene Swiss Dot Blouse- this blouse will be great for date night or casual looks. I can't wait to see what you love in this Fix! Xo Jessica V
I’d seen other people’s stylist notes online, all of which seemed to end in XO. Is that signoff required? No matter. I set the note aside and pulled out the tissue-paper wrapped bundles.
I wish I had taken a picture of the bundle of clothing (next time!). The side view of a Fix is a thing to behold, and mine was no exception. I let out an audible noise of admiration as I looked at the beautiful layers of color and texture.
“Look!” I said, showing my sisters.
“What am I looking at?” Older Sister asked.
I tried to explain the loveliness of just looking at the stack of clothing, but I soon gave up in favor of opening the package. Here's the side view of someone else's Fix:
This is what my items looked like collectively:
And individually:
Mavi Huntter Cuffed Short: I had never, ever before considered buying cuffed denim shorts. It surprised me that I actually really liked these shorts. However, they were not only too big (curse you, inexplicable failure to measure waist correctly!), they didn’t reach my knees as my stylist had hoped. They were a longer pair of shorts, but they were still too short for garments. And the final issue—the little rips in the denim also revealed my garments. Verdict: Send back.
Le Lis Elyott Dress: I really liked the fabric of this dress. It was navy blue, which I liked, and had polka dots, which I also am a fan of. The fit was right for my body, but once again, too short for garments. Verdict: Send back.
Market & Spruce Soyer Henley Top: At first sight, this blouse was the one item I was sure that I would keep. I loved the colors and the pattern. However, when I put it on, I discovered that the shoulder seams fell really far forward. They reached my clavicle. This resulted in the neckline gaping strangely. I thought about asking my mom to alter the shoulders so that I could keep it, but I decided that if I had to do that much work to get it to fit, it wasn’t worth it. Verdict: Send back.
Brixon Ivy Eugene Swiss Dot Blouse: Initially, I didn’t like this blouse as much as the other one. However, when I tried it on, it fit really well, and I found that I liked the way it looked. I tried it with different undershirts, with jeans, with a pencil skirt, and with my favorite necklace. The more things I tried it with, the more I liked it. There was a button missing, which irked, especially because it was one of the more expensive items in the Fix. But there was an extra button included with the blouse, which I could sew on myself. Verdict: Keep.
Then there was this necklace. I went back and forth on it like every fifteen minutes for the next twenty-four hours.
ME: I don’t really wear beaded necklaces.
ALSO ME: Maybe now is the time to start. The coral and gold is so pretty!
ME: For a necklace, it’s expensive.
ALSO ME: Expensive, but not out of your price range.
ME: What would I wear it with?
ALSO ME: Good question.
What would go with a coral and gold beaded necklace? I tried it with the white blouse, but it didn’t go very well with the neckline. My stylist recommended that I wear it with the polka dot dress she sent, but as I wasn’t keeping the polka dot dress that thought wasn’t exactly useful. Stitch Fix sent me style cards that show different ways to wear each piece of clothing, but the style card for the necklace just had the name of the necklace on it. I guess they don’t give styling tips for their jewelry? Boo. Finally, I remembered that I had 48,258 navy blue t-shirts and probably like 52% as many gray t-shirts. This necklace would be an excellent way to dress those t-shirts up, especially when worn with the Mokey Fraggle that I got for New York. Verdict: Keep.
Once I decided what I wanted to keep, I logged on to my Stitch Fix profile and checked out. In the checking-out process, Stitch Fix asked for my feedback on both the items I kept and the ones that I didn’t. They say that the more specific your feedback, the better your next Fix will be. My feedback was very specific about what I liked and what I didn’t, what worked for me and what didn’t, the missing button, and the pricing of their items. We’ll see how this affects my next Fix.
After I checked out, I put the items I wasn’t keeping in a prepaid envelope and mailed them back to Stitch Fix. Stitch Fix gives you three days to check out and mail the items back. I was worried when my Stitch Fix came early that they would expect me to check out earlier, too, but they gave me three days from when the Fix was scheduled to arrive, which I appreciated.
My overall thoughts? Stitch Fix was a lot of fun. It’s not exactly bargain shopping, but if you hate to shop/love surprises and have a little extra money, it’s pretty great. I felt like my stylist did a great job. Even though not all the items worked for me, I liked everything I got. I could tell that Jessica V. paid attention to my style profile (the tops fit perfectly and it seemed like she tried to accommodate my garments), the note I’d written to go with the Fix (she referenced the shorts and the date outfit I’d asked for), and my Pinterest board (I’d pinned a lot of polka dots and some coral items).
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed exploring Stitch Fix vicariously through me. And if you wanna try it for yourself, go ahead and try it. << If you use this link to sign up, I will receive referral credit.
Thursday, July 16, 2015
The Lost Boys
Grown-ups don't have summer vacation, which means that grown-ups have to take time off work to go camping, which means that grown-ups who don't take time off work to go camping don't get to go camping.
Using this linear reasoning, I was able to designate myself as a grown-up who did not get to go camping. But I did take a break from being a grown-up long enough to visit the campground and play our Peter Pan game for a few hours.
Playing Peter Pan is as formulaic as an episode of Phineas and Ferb. First Peter Pan (that's me) leads the Lost Boys in building a house for Wendy (Little Sister). Then the Lost Boys and Tinker Bell (Ginger Cousin) go to their hideout and make themselves beds of fresh grass. Then we explore.
When Little Sister and I arrived at the campsite with Older Sister and Glory, daylight was short. John (Little Brother) and Tootles (Baby Sister) had already led the others in building Wendy's house at the traditional site. They did this with a combination of branches and foliage, and I must say, it was a mighty fine house indeed. They had also made all the beds and spruced up the hideout.
The Lost Boys and Tinker Bell then brought us presents. Wildflowers for Wendy, and a weathered animal bone for me.
Then we tromped through the woods and sang and explored.
When we first started playing Peter Pan, none of the children were very old. It was more of a mass baby-sitting job for me and my sisters than anything. A baby-sitting job in the woods. With streams to fall in and rocks to trip on and children running around me while I'm trying to fulfill their request to carve their names in a tree with a pocket knife. 'Twas, in a word, unsafe.
Apart from instituting rules about where the little children could go without supervision, we developed a series of communications we could use to call out to one another. This made it so we could explore the woods without losing anyone.
"Sound off" means that everyone has to respond with a special sound-off song. We keep singing it until we find each other.
"Bangerang," means "I see you."
If you crow, it means "I'm in danger and need help."
"Hook, hook, where's the hook?" means that you see Captain Hook.
"Rufio!" is a cry of exhilaration.
This is how whole new languages are made, friends. We communicate this way as easily as we communicate in normal English.
We tromped through our hideout and though Pixie Hollow, the Mermaid Lagoon, and Camp Wanahakalugi. After wood-tromping, we had a council of Lost Boys. Then we ate dinner with the natives (the chief aka Dad and Tiger Lily aka my aunt) and the pirates (Captain Hook aka my uncle and Smee aka Mom).
Then the pine cone war.
A pine cone war is exactly what it sounds like. Hook, Smee, the chief, and Tiger Lily sneak up on us and throw pine cones at us. We throw pine cones back. Whoever surrenders loses and is branded, in the words of John Darling, "a cowardly custard." Being a cowardly custard is a bad thing, because although everyone likes custard, nobody likes cowards.
Determined not to be a cowardly custard, John/Little Brother and Cubby/Monkey Cousin developed a pine cone war strategy. Last year, our foes snuck up on us Lost Boys through Camp Wanahakalugi. That time, the Lost Boys really lost. So this year, John Napoleon Darling lived up to his middle name by ingeniously and efficiently splitting our forces. He sent Cubby to the entrance by Camp Wanahakalugi, took Slightly (Pixie Cousin) with him to defend the hideout, and left the rest of us on the front lines. John repurposed several of our usual Lost Boy commands for the battle. "Squdge," meant "Go to the front lines." "Rufio," meant "Join Cubby," and "Bangerang," meant "Cubby, join us." As you can see, we are running out of Peter Pan words that Lost Boys might say. "Faith, trust, and pixie dust," don't quite suit.
Before and after dinner, we stashed up caches of pine cones throughout the woods so that we would never be without ammunition. We dressed in clothes that were gray, green, and brown so that we blended in. I filled up the pocket and the hood of my hoodie with pine cones and smeared ash from the cooking fire on my face. We were ready... ready for everything to go as planned.
Of course, nothing went as planned. Just before the war started, Michael (Baby Brother) fell and scraped his leg and had to be administered to. No sooner had Michael returned to us than Cubby screeched, "Bangerang!" from his station near Camp Wanahakalugi.
"Already?" we cried. John, Tootles, and Slightly rushed to Cubby's aid. I think Wendy rushed to hide behind a tree. Tink, Michael, and Nibs (Baby Cousin) bravely stayed behind to help me defend the front lines, because we were being attacked from that side, too!
We threw pine cones with all our might, but the enemy advanced. They discovered our caches and started throwing our store of pine cones at us! Nibs tripped, landed hard, and defected into the comforting arms of Tiger Lily. It was chaos.
Chaos, however, must favor Peter Pan, because we won. We herded Hook, Smee, the chief and Tiger Lily into a clearing, then surrounded them and pelted them with pine cones. When Nibs saw how much fun we were having, she defected back to us.
"We surrender!" cried the cowardly custards that we had just beaten like...well, like custard.
I crowed. The Lost Boys crowed. It can be nice to not be grown up.
Using this linear reasoning, I was able to designate myself as a grown-up who did not get to go camping. But I did take a break from being a grown-up long enough to visit the campground and play our Peter Pan game for a few hours.
Playing Peter Pan is as formulaic as an episode of Phineas and Ferb. First Peter Pan (that's me) leads the Lost Boys in building a house for Wendy (Little Sister). Then the Lost Boys and Tinker Bell (Ginger Cousin) go to their hideout and make themselves beds of fresh grass. Then we explore.
When Little Sister and I arrived at the campsite with Older Sister and Glory, daylight was short. John (Little Brother) and Tootles (Baby Sister) had already led the others in building Wendy's house at the traditional site. They did this with a combination of branches and foliage, and I must say, it was a mighty fine house indeed. They had also made all the beds and spruced up the hideout.
The Lost Boys and Tinker Bell then brought us presents. Wildflowers for Wendy, and a weathered animal bone for me.
Then we tromped through the woods and sang and explored.
When we first started playing Peter Pan, none of the children were very old. It was more of a mass baby-sitting job for me and my sisters than anything. A baby-sitting job in the woods. With streams to fall in and rocks to trip on and children running around me while I'm trying to fulfill their request to carve their names in a tree with a pocket knife. 'Twas, in a word, unsafe.
Apart from instituting rules about where the little children could go without supervision, we developed a series of communications we could use to call out to one another. This made it so we could explore the woods without losing anyone.
"Sound off" means that everyone has to respond with a special sound-off song. We keep singing it until we find each other.
"Bangerang," means "I see you."
If you crow, it means "I'm in danger and need help."
"Hook, hook, where's the hook?" means that you see Captain Hook.
"Rufio!" is a cry of exhilaration.
This is how whole new languages are made, friends. We communicate this way as easily as we communicate in normal English.
We tromped through our hideout and though Pixie Hollow, the Mermaid Lagoon, and Camp Wanahakalugi. After wood-tromping, we had a council of Lost Boys. Then we ate dinner with the natives (the chief aka Dad and Tiger Lily aka my aunt) and the pirates (Captain Hook aka my uncle and Smee aka Mom).
Then the pine cone war.
A pine cone war is exactly what it sounds like. Hook, Smee, the chief, and Tiger Lily sneak up on us and throw pine cones at us. We throw pine cones back. Whoever surrenders loses and is branded, in the words of John Darling, "a cowardly custard." Being a cowardly custard is a bad thing, because although everyone likes custard, nobody likes cowards.
Determined not to be a cowardly custard, John/Little Brother and Cubby/Monkey Cousin developed a pine cone war strategy. Last year, our foes snuck up on us Lost Boys through Camp Wanahakalugi. That time, the Lost Boys really lost. So this year, John Napoleon Darling lived up to his middle name by ingeniously and efficiently splitting our forces. He sent Cubby to the entrance by Camp Wanahakalugi, took Slightly (Pixie Cousin) with him to defend the hideout, and left the rest of us on the front lines. John repurposed several of our usual Lost Boy commands for the battle. "Squdge," meant "Go to the front lines." "Rufio," meant "Join Cubby," and "Bangerang," meant "Cubby, join us." As you can see, we are running out of Peter Pan words that Lost Boys might say. "Faith, trust, and pixie dust," don't quite suit.
Before and after dinner, we stashed up caches of pine cones throughout the woods so that we would never be without ammunition. We dressed in clothes that were gray, green, and brown so that we blended in. I filled up the pocket and the hood of my hoodie with pine cones and smeared ash from the cooking fire on my face. We were ready... ready for everything to go as planned.
Of course, nothing went as planned. Just before the war started, Michael (Baby Brother) fell and scraped his leg and had to be administered to. No sooner had Michael returned to us than Cubby screeched, "Bangerang!" from his station near Camp Wanahakalugi.
"Already?" we cried. John, Tootles, and Slightly rushed to Cubby's aid. I think Wendy rushed to hide behind a tree. Tink, Michael, and Nibs (Baby Cousin) bravely stayed behind to help me defend the front lines, because we were being attacked from that side, too!
We threw pine cones with all our might, but the enemy advanced. They discovered our caches and started throwing our store of pine cones at us! Nibs tripped, landed hard, and defected into the comforting arms of Tiger Lily. It was chaos.
Chaos, however, must favor Peter Pan, because we won. We herded Hook, Smee, the chief and Tiger Lily into a clearing, then surrounded them and pelted them with pine cones. When Nibs saw how much fun we were having, she defected back to us.
"We surrender!" cried the cowardly custards that we had just beaten like...well, like custard.
I crowed. The Lost Boys crowed. It can be nice to not be grown up.
Thursday, July 9, 2015
Fixin' for a Stitchin'
I have decided to try Stitch Fix.
A description of Stitch Fix, as written by Stitch Fix: “Get your own personal stylist. Hand-selected women's fashion shipped free, straight to your door. Try on at home risk-free.”
A description of Stitch Fix, as written by me: “I tell Stitch Fix what size I am and what kind of clothes I like. Stitch Fix sends me clothes. I try on the clothes. I send back the clothes I don’t like. I don’t have to spend the entire day shopping and I get to try on clothes with clothes I already have and I get to be surprised. Fist-bumps all around.”
How did I reach the decision to try this personal stylist service? Well, Shutterbug started Stitch Fix recently. When she mentioned it on Facebook, I was intrigued. When I started investigating other people’s Stitch Fix experience, I was half-convinced. And when Shutterbug showed me pictures of the clothes she got, I was like, “Yup. This is legit. I’m gonna try it.”
So next week, my friends, I will receive a box of five items from Stitch Fix. I will try on all the items, and then I will tell you all about it. Possibly there will be pictures. And you can all have the fun of trying Stitch Fix vicariously through me.
”Gee, Awkward Mormon Girl,” you may be saying, “this is the second time you’ve written about clothes in the past two months. Is this blog going to become a fashion blog?”
Pffft. Heavens, no. This blog is about my experience as an awkward Mormon girl. What I wear is part of that experience, especially now that I’m endowed and have special garments that I wear under my clothes. I definitely dress differently from a lot of the other women my age, and I think I would be amiss not to occasionally talk about the challenges and blessings that accompany my clothes-shopping efforts.
However, there is only so much to be said about clothes. As of now, I’m planning to try Stitch Fix three times and write three correlating blog posts. After that, although I may continue with Stitch Fix, I have no plans to keep writing about it. Unless you people beg me to, or unless something unusual or exciting happens in relation to Stitch Fix.
Should you be interested in trying Stitch Fix yourself, you can sign up using my personal referral link. I get $25 in credit for every person who uses my link to try it out. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.
A description of Stitch Fix, as written by Stitch Fix: “Get your own personal stylist. Hand-selected women's fashion shipped free, straight to your door. Try on at home risk-free.”
A description of Stitch Fix, as written by me: “I tell Stitch Fix what size I am and what kind of clothes I like. Stitch Fix sends me clothes. I try on the clothes. I send back the clothes I don’t like. I don’t have to spend the entire day shopping and I get to try on clothes with clothes I already have and I get to be surprised. Fist-bumps all around.”
How did I reach the decision to try this personal stylist service? Well, Shutterbug started Stitch Fix recently. When she mentioned it on Facebook, I was intrigued. When I started investigating other people’s Stitch Fix experience, I was half-convinced. And when Shutterbug showed me pictures of the clothes she got, I was like, “Yup. This is legit. I’m gonna try it.”
So next week, my friends, I will receive a box of five items from Stitch Fix. I will try on all the items, and then I will tell you all about it. Possibly there will be pictures. And you can all have the fun of trying Stitch Fix vicariously through me.
”Gee, Awkward Mormon Girl,” you may be saying, “this is the second time you’ve written about clothes in the past two months. Is this blog going to become a fashion blog?”
Pffft. Heavens, no. This blog is about my experience as an awkward Mormon girl. What I wear is part of that experience, especially now that I’m endowed and have special garments that I wear under my clothes. I definitely dress differently from a lot of the other women my age, and I think I would be amiss not to occasionally talk about the challenges and blessings that accompany my clothes-shopping efforts.
However, there is only so much to be said about clothes. As of now, I’m planning to try Stitch Fix three times and write three correlating blog posts. After that, although I may continue with Stitch Fix, I have no plans to keep writing about it. Unless you people beg me to, or unless something unusual or exciting happens in relation to Stitch Fix.
Should you be interested in trying Stitch Fix yourself, you can sign up using my personal referral link. I get $25 in credit for every person who uses my link to try it out. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.
Monday, July 6, 2015
Going Fourth
America had a birthday over the weekend. She turned 239 years old. There were tons of parades, carnivals, fireworks, and parties in her honor, because America is basically a spoiled brat who demands that everyone celebrates her birthday but never throws birthday parties for us.
Just callin’ it like it is.
In all seriousness, I’m glad that I was born in this country. The more I travel, the more love I gain for the United States of America. And I celebrated my love of America by walking in a parade with Little Brother and my improv comedy troupe and throwing saltwater taffy at the curb (due to city laws forbidding the tossing of candy into the streets or directly at bystanders); buying a lemonade, a Philly cheesesteak sandwich, a frozen chocolate-covered banana, and a $1 ring at a carnival; filming Baby Brother rock-climbing at said carnival; taking Baby Brother to our mother’s workplace to drop off a necklace he bought her at the carnival; watching Phineas and Ferb; eating Chinese food; and by lighting fireworks and dancing to music in my uncle’s driveway.
All in all, I think it was a successful party for America. So I hope she’s grateful. Also, I expect her to do the same to celebrate my birthday next year.
Just callin’ it like it is.
In all seriousness, I’m glad that I was born in this country. The more I travel, the more love I gain for the United States of America. And I celebrated my love of America by walking in a parade with Little Brother and my improv comedy troupe and throwing saltwater taffy at the curb (due to city laws forbidding the tossing of candy into the streets or directly at bystanders); buying a lemonade, a Philly cheesesteak sandwich, a frozen chocolate-covered banana, and a $1 ring at a carnival; filming Baby Brother rock-climbing at said carnival; taking Baby Brother to our mother’s workplace to drop off a necklace he bought her at the carnival; watching Phineas and Ferb; eating Chinese food; and by lighting fireworks and dancing to music in my uncle’s driveway.
All in all, I think it was a successful party for America. So I hope she’s grateful. Also, I expect her to do the same to celebrate my birthday next year.
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