Everyone's all, "Wow, 2016 was the worst year ever!" However, that has not been my experience.
It hasn't been a perfect year by any means. My grandfather passed away, which was a hard trial for my family.
I'm not attached to many celebrities, so this year's celebrity deaths didn't affect me much. I was sad about Carrie Fisher, though.
OLDER SISTER: But now she can be with her mom!
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Actually, Debbie Reynolds is still alive.
OLDER SISTER: Really?!
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Yes!
I only knew that because of all the headlines that said things like, "Debbie Reynolds Speaks Out About Her Daughter's Death."
The next day, all the headlines said things like, "Debbie Reynolds Passes Away a Day After Her Daughter's Death."
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: ...JK.
Anywho.
2015 was a rough one for me. Happily, a lot of the things that loomed over my head in 2015 have now been resolved.
Plus, I have a real full-time job now! Say whaaat? By that token, if last year was Little Nemo in Slumberland, then this year was How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, except with less workplace romance.
So that was 2016. I am ringing in 2017 with some uncertainty on the table. What's in store for me next year? Don't know! Somewhat care. We'll see.
Happy New Year, everyone!
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Friday, December 30, 2016
Hanukkahmas
Guess what, everybody?
Hanukkah and Christmas fell at the same time this year, that's what!
Celebrate them both, of course!
The first night of Hanukkah fell on Christmas Eve. Older Sister's flight got in that morning. Then we had our annual tradition of lunch on Christmas Eve, followed by our other annual tradition of dinner, a nativity scene, and a slideshow of the previous year, all with extended family.
The second night of Hanukkah fell on Christmas Day. That morning, we opened presents. I got a sushi cookbook, a sushi-making kit, chopsticks, and sushi pins, among other things.
We also sang and danced to songs from Fiddler on the Roof and Prince of Egypt. Rosebud's husband did a bottle dance. We picked Baby Brother up in a chair and danced with him around the living room. He hated it.
Hanukkah continues through New Year's Eve aka tomorrow. If you haven't celebrated and you want to, you still can. Although maybe you can't if you're not at least 1/8 Jewish. Maybe those are the rules.
Hanukkah and Christmas fell at the same time this year, that's what!
What's an ethnically 1/8 Jewish, religiously Christian girl to do?
Celebrate them both, of course!
The first night of Hanukkah fell on Christmas Eve. Older Sister's flight got in that morning. Then we had our annual tradition of lunch on Christmas Eve, followed by our other annual tradition of dinner, a nativity scene, and a slideshow of the previous year, all with extended family.
The second night of Hanukkah fell on Christmas Day. That morning, we opened presents. I got a sushi cookbook, a sushi-making kit, chopsticks, and sushi pins, among other things.
Then we all went to church.
Afterward, we visited with family and enjoyed our gifts.
On the third night of Hanukkah, the family went with Favorite Cousin to see La La Land. Favorite Cousin and I already saw it the week before, but Older Sister hadn't yet because the movie prices in New York City are too much for her modest arts administrator budget. (While we're on the subject, it's a pretty good movie. There's kind of a bait and switch where you think the movie is about how a person has to close their eyes to some harsh realities to make an arts career work, but surprise! At the end you realize it's actually about how a person has to close their eyes to some harsh realities to make a relationship work. Plus there's a dream ballet sequence and a couple other moments straight out of a film musical from the 50s or 60s. So that's fun/unexpected/odd.)
On the fourth night of Hanukkah, we saw the LDS church's production of Savior of the World. That was actually a really good Hanukkah activity, as the production is about Christ's lifetime and is therefore steeped in a lot of Jewish traditions.
On the fifth night of Hanukkah, we actually got around to celebrating Hanukkah. All of my immediate family came to my apartment, along with Little Sister's boyfriend, Rosebud and her husband, one of our cousins and her new husband, and another cousin's four-month-old baby, whom my parents was watching for the evening. Together, we celebrated. This meant a dinner of brisket, latkes, applesauce, challah bread, and less traditional foods...
...some Hanukkah tales...
...and playing dreidel! (Spoils pictured below.)
We also sang and danced to songs from Fiddler on the Roof and Prince of Egypt. Rosebud's husband did a bottle dance. We picked Baby Brother up in a chair and danced with him around the living room. He hated it.
Hanukkah continues through New Year's Eve aka tomorrow. If you haven't celebrated and you want to, you still can. Although maybe you can't if you're not at least 1/8 Jewish. Maybe those are the rules.
Tuesday, December 27, 2016
Pictures of Food I Ate in Disneyland
Like I've said before, when you're in Disneyland, you've got to pony up some money to try the food. The food is one of the best parts.
Unfortunately, this trip I forgot to take photos of my food until our last day in Disneyland. I cannot share the majesty of what I consumed those first two days, but I can at least show you what I had on the last one.
Unfortunately, this trip I forgot to take photos of my food until our last day in Disneyland. I cannot share the majesty of what I consumed those first two days, but I can at least show you what I had on the last one.
 |
| Tomato basil soup, a grilled cheese sandwich, and a raspberry rose macaron at the Jolly Holiday. The macaron a) was humongous and b) had actually fresh raspberries inside. Delicious! |
 |
| We went to the Bengal Barbecue twice on our trip because perfect. Here's a Safari Skewer. Bacon-wrapped asparagus with lemon juice squeezed on top...yum. |
 |
| Dinner at Café Orleans. I had a braised beef crepe with a pea purée (as you can see, I forgot to photograph it until I had already dug in). |
 |
| I already mentioned the beignet debacle. Luckily, my crepe wasn't terribly filling, so I was able to eat four out of five beignets. Which was extraordinarily happy, considering that these are not merely beignets...they're seasonal (candy cane) beignets. |
Saturday, December 24, 2016
Light the World
Well, I did it. I did 24 acts of service in 24 days...and I'm planning to do my final act of service tomorrow.
I learned a lot. I learned something about myself, which is that I serve people more than I think I do. There were days when I would do something for someone automatically, only to realize later that I had done an act of service. I'd sort of expected to have the opposite experience, where I was constantly forgetting to do an act of service each day. However, that wasn't the case. I can still do better! But it was heartening to realize that maybe I'm not the selfish brat I sometimes think I am.
I learned something about service itself. I had a couple of back-and-forths during this initiative about the ethics of doing an act of service but then sharing it online. For sure, that's not the usual way service ought to work. People don't need to know that you've served. In fact, it's often better if they don't. However, at some points during this initiative, I felt like the real service wasn't the service...the real service was sharing the service. Does that make sense? It seemed that the initiative was to inspire other people by showing them that there's still good in the world. Also to remind them of the true meaning of Christmas, and that the best way to show love for the Savior is often to show love to others. At least, that's how I interpret it.
I learned a lot. I learned something about myself, which is that I serve people more than I think I do. There were days when I would do something for someone automatically, only to realize later that I had done an act of service. I'd sort of expected to have the opposite experience, where I was constantly forgetting to do an act of service each day. However, that wasn't the case. I can still do better! But it was heartening to realize that maybe I'm not the selfish brat I sometimes think I am.
I learned something about service itself. I had a couple of back-and-forths during this initiative about the ethics of doing an act of service but then sharing it online. For sure, that's not the usual way service ought to work. People don't need to know that you've served. In fact, it's often better if they don't. However, at some points during this initiative, I felt like the real service wasn't the service...the real service was sharing the service. Does that make sense? It seemed that the initiative was to inspire other people by showing them that there's still good in the world. Also to remind them of the true meaning of Christmas, and that the best way to show love for the Savior is often to show love to others. At least, that's how I interpret it.
Friday, December 23, 2016
New Things I Did in Disneyland
The last time I went to Disneyland, I wrote about how you can never do everything there. Sure enough, even though this was my tenth or eleventh trip to Disneyland (I'm not sure exactly how many times I went as a small child), I still did things I'd never done before! Like:
1. Rope drop
Rope dropping is going to the park before it opens. You squish into a mass and wait for the rope to drop…literally. As soon as the rope is down, the eagerly waiting people diffuse into the park. We rope dropped on both the second and third days. Happily, the parks weren’t too crowded until Friday night, and combining that with our getting in early for the rope drop, we walked onto quite a few rides during our day in California Adventure.
2. See new shows
Little Brother was quick to inform me that the Christmas parade was the same one that had been going the last time we were in the park for Christmas, but neither of us had ever seen the Paint the Night parade, which is essentially a more finessed version of the Main Street Electrical Parade. If you haven’t seen the Main Street Electrical Parade, you can look it up. It walks a fine line between being very cool and very annoying. The first time I remember seeing it was at the tender age of two. We’d gone to Disneyland for Older Sister’s birthday. Older Sister fell asleep before the parade started, but I was awake for the whole thing, munching on the lavender bag of jelly beans our grandmother had bought me. At two, I found the parade to only be very cool. The very annoying part didn’t register until years later, when I listened to the parade song on a Disney soundtrack and realized that the music is a) very repetitive, b) lasts forever, and c) is synth. I don’t care much for synth unless it’s Owl City-style synth. Happily, the Paint the Night parade takes the electrical concept of the Main Street Electrical Parade but pairs it with a much less repetitive Owl City song.
California Adventure also did a new thing this year called the Festival of Holidays. This consisted of performances from all kinds of winter holiday traditions. There was a Jewish band called Mostly Kosher and Diwali dancers on the pier. There was also a street show called Viva Navidad that featured the three caballeros. It was mostly Spanish and Spanish-speaking holiday traditions…with a little samba thrown in as a nod to caballero Miguel. Not quite tapas and samba, but still somewhat culturally confusing.
3. Try new foods
Let me offer you some sound advice: if you’re going to go to Disneyland, you’ve got to shell out the money for the food. Don’t be a cheapskate. If you’re not going to eat, you might as well not go. Most of the food there is amazing, and it’s all part of the experience.
Because of the Festival of Holidays, there were temporary food booths all over the pier at California Adventure. These booths offered food from countries around the world. For lunch on the second day, we all dispersed and grabbed crab cakes, lamb and rice, turkey pot pies, sliders with cranberry sauce, tarts…all kinds of things.
We also tried lots of food at other locations. We went to a few of my family’s tried and true favorites, but overall we tried to go new places. This meant getting bacon-wrapped asparagus skewers at Safari Skewers; sandwiches, soup, hot chocolate, and pastries at the Jolly Holiday (a place my parents have never taken us because it looks pretty fancy, but it was actually cheaper than some of the burger joints in the park); and chowder and bisque at Harbour Galley. We grabbed churros with caramel dip at the Cozy Cone Motel. Little Brother tried a pickle and a corn dog. The Seamstress told us that she’d never had a Dole whip; she wanted to try one. So we avoided the super long Dole whip line by instructing her to purchase one from inside the Tiki Room waiting area.
“This is a Dole whip?” the Seamstress asked, surprised. She hadn’t realized Dole whips are an ice cream treat!
Also, on our last night, we had reservations at Café Orleans…and everybody ordered his or her own plate of beignets.
”…you guys do realize that each order comes with five, right?” our waitress asked.
We assured her that we did. It wasn’t until we actually each had a plate of five beignets in front of us that we realized maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Luckily, our waitress kindly (and without saying, “I told you so,”) provided boxes so that we could carry the fried cakes throughout the park with us.
4. Go on updated/new rides
Peter Pan, the Little Mermaid ride, Space Mountain, Haunted Mansion, Star Tours, the Matterhorn, Soarin’, Alice in Wonderland, Jungle Cruise, Big Thunder Mountain…all of these rides had been updated since last we were there. My favorite updates were 1) the temporary Star Wars update to Space Mountain and b) the updates to the Peter Pan ride! John, Michael, and Wendy actually flew!!!
In addition these updates, we checked out a few rides we’d never tried before. The Golden Zephyr, a little bullet plane-type ride, was one of them. We also tried Luigi’s Rollickin’ Roadsters, a ride where cars dance to Italian music.
5. Disney bound
Disney bounding means casual cosplay. You wear normal clothes that are reminiscent of a Disney character. On our last day, we all Disney bounded. I was the sorcerer’s apprentice in a red dress, blue tights with stars and moons, and yellow sneakers. Little Brother was Peter Pan, the Seamstress was Kim Possible, and Pepper was Moana.
6. Meet new friends
We met Moana! In case you were wondering how adorable she is…she’s very adorable. Although she took over the Aladdin’s Oasis area for her meet and greet, which was strange, but I suppose it’s only fair payback after Iago took over Disney World’s Enchanted Tiki Room.
We also met someone who frankly was almost more special. See, my parents have this VHS that we Obnoxiouses watch whenever we need a Disney fix. It’s called A Day at Disneyland. It was filmed in the early 90s, I think. There’s a segment at the Big Thunder Mountain Barbecue where a man dressed in an Old Western outfit plays the fiddle and sings a song that goes, “Turkey in the straw, ha ha ha. Turkey in the hay, hey hey hey!” He’s only in about 30 seconds of the whole show, but he has such a distinct voice and makes such funny faces that it’s an iconic moment for us.
A few years ago, when Little Sister went on a trip to Disneyland (with the Ladies’ Man family no less; Little Sister and the Ladies’ Man’s little sister are friends), Little Sister saw a guy playing the fiddle in Frontierland and mentioned the video to him. He said that he was the same guy and even played the song for them! Then he asked where they were from. When they said, “Utah,” he asked them if they knew any “Utah songs” and started playing Primary songs (songs that LDS children sing at church). It seemed to be his way of sharing that he, too, was LDS…since cast members aren’t supposed to talk about religion with guests and vice versa.
After that experience, we found out that this fella’s name is Farley. Farley the Fiddler.
On our first day in the park, we were walking through Frontierland on our way to Adventureland when we noticed a man with a fiddle talking to some other guests. He looked vaguely familiar…
We convened in hushed whispers. Was that Farley? Was it not? Should we ask him? Should we ask for a picture with him?
He could probably hear us, because he walked over and started talking to us. Sure enough, it was Farley! He asked us where we were from. When we said “Utah,” he asked, “Have we ever sung the Utah songs together? Let’s sing the Utah songs together.” Then we sang “Popcorn Popping on the Apricot Tree” and “Once There Was a Snowman.”
Then Farley invited us to help him do a rendition of “Twelve Days of Christmas” on his fiddle. He fiddled. We sang and did the silly actions he told us to do.
After we were over, he said, “You had fun with Farley! So what do they get?” he asked the guests he had been talking to before we came over.
“A sticker!” they cried. Sure enough, Farley gave us his own themed stickers. Wow!
7. Explore nooks and crannies
I got to see a couple new areas of the parks that I’d never seen before. For one thing, I’d never had to get fast passes before, because my parents usually do that. I hadn’t realized that the fast pass areas were like little themed grottos. At one point, I left the rest of the group to grab fast passes for Haunted Mansion Holiday.
Guess what? The fast pass area for the ride is legit creepy! There’s a wrought iron fence around it…tall shrubbery…and cemetery-style statues enclosing the fast pass kiosks. There’s also weird chiming music. I got in…got my fast passes…and got out!
We also found something that not even Little Brother knew about. First of all, you should know that my family has one particular Disneyland tradition that we honor above almost any other: Splash Mountain at night.
Hardly anyone goes on Splash Mountain at night. Getting soaking wet late at night is a cold experience, even in California. Plus, Fantasmic is usually playing on the Rivers of America, so the rides in the Frontierland/Critter Country/New Orleans Square area tend to be empty. Fantasmic wasn’t playing right now due to construction. However, as it was December (and a frigid fifty-something degrees), Splash Mountain was still empty. We went on it three times in rapid succession. My roommates, who initially seemed hesitant about the idea, seemed to be loving it by the time we slogged off the ride. (You have to slog when your shoes are that wet.)
It was ten minutes to close at that point. On our way out of the park, we stopped at bathrooms on New Orleans Square. While we were there, we heard a pre-recorded conversation that was playing from one of the false apartment fronts over the shops. Little Brother had told us that a lot of the buildings had recorded noises coming from them. However, during the day it’s too busy and loud in the park to hear most of them.
Well, we could clearly hear this conversation in the quiet of the closing park. It seemed to be a dramatic exchange between two people cooking a chicken. And it was hilarious. We’ve been quoting it ever since: “…the chicken that I entrusted to your care!” Little Brother has researched it since we got home, but he hasn’t found anyone online who has reported hearing that same conversation.
So there you go. Even I, a person who has gone to Disneyland many, many times, did things that I’d never done before. I’m telling you, you’ll never run out of things to do there. It’s simply not possible.
1. Rope drop
Rope dropping is going to the park before it opens. You squish into a mass and wait for the rope to drop…literally. As soon as the rope is down, the eagerly waiting people diffuse into the park. We rope dropped on both the second and third days. Happily, the parks weren’t too crowded until Friday night, and combining that with our getting in early for the rope drop, we walked onto quite a few rides during our day in California Adventure.
2. See new shows
Little Brother was quick to inform me that the Christmas parade was the same one that had been going the last time we were in the park for Christmas, but neither of us had ever seen the Paint the Night parade, which is essentially a more finessed version of the Main Street Electrical Parade. If you haven’t seen the Main Street Electrical Parade, you can look it up. It walks a fine line between being very cool and very annoying. The first time I remember seeing it was at the tender age of two. We’d gone to Disneyland for Older Sister’s birthday. Older Sister fell asleep before the parade started, but I was awake for the whole thing, munching on the lavender bag of jelly beans our grandmother had bought me. At two, I found the parade to only be very cool. The very annoying part didn’t register until years later, when I listened to the parade song on a Disney soundtrack and realized that the music is a) very repetitive, b) lasts forever, and c) is synth. I don’t care much for synth unless it’s Owl City-style synth. Happily, the Paint the Night parade takes the electrical concept of the Main Street Electrical Parade but pairs it with a much less repetitive Owl City song.
California Adventure also did a new thing this year called the Festival of Holidays. This consisted of performances from all kinds of winter holiday traditions. There was a Jewish band called Mostly Kosher and Diwali dancers on the pier. There was also a street show called Viva Navidad that featured the three caballeros. It was mostly Spanish and Spanish-speaking holiday traditions…with a little samba thrown in as a nod to caballero Miguel. Not quite tapas and samba, but still somewhat culturally confusing.
3. Try new foods
Let me offer you some sound advice: if you’re going to go to Disneyland, you’ve got to shell out the money for the food. Don’t be a cheapskate. If you’re not going to eat, you might as well not go. Most of the food there is amazing, and it’s all part of the experience.
Because of the Festival of Holidays, there were temporary food booths all over the pier at California Adventure. These booths offered food from countries around the world. For lunch on the second day, we all dispersed and grabbed crab cakes, lamb and rice, turkey pot pies, sliders with cranberry sauce, tarts…all kinds of things.
We also tried lots of food at other locations. We went to a few of my family’s tried and true favorites, but overall we tried to go new places. This meant getting bacon-wrapped asparagus skewers at Safari Skewers; sandwiches, soup, hot chocolate, and pastries at the Jolly Holiday (a place my parents have never taken us because it looks pretty fancy, but it was actually cheaper than some of the burger joints in the park); and chowder and bisque at Harbour Galley. We grabbed churros with caramel dip at the Cozy Cone Motel. Little Brother tried a pickle and a corn dog. The Seamstress told us that she’d never had a Dole whip; she wanted to try one. So we avoided the super long Dole whip line by instructing her to purchase one from inside the Tiki Room waiting area.
“This is a Dole whip?” the Seamstress asked, surprised. She hadn’t realized Dole whips are an ice cream treat!
Also, on our last night, we had reservations at Café Orleans…and everybody ordered his or her own plate of beignets.
”…you guys do realize that each order comes with five, right?” our waitress asked.
We assured her that we did. It wasn’t until we actually each had a plate of five beignets in front of us that we realized maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Luckily, our waitress kindly (and without saying, “I told you so,”) provided boxes so that we could carry the fried cakes throughout the park with us.
4. Go on updated/new rides
Peter Pan, the Little Mermaid ride, Space Mountain, Haunted Mansion, Star Tours, the Matterhorn, Soarin’, Alice in Wonderland, Jungle Cruise, Big Thunder Mountain…all of these rides had been updated since last we were there. My favorite updates were 1) the temporary Star Wars update to Space Mountain and b) the updates to the Peter Pan ride! John, Michael, and Wendy actually flew!!!
In addition these updates, we checked out a few rides we’d never tried before. The Golden Zephyr, a little bullet plane-type ride, was one of them. We also tried Luigi’s Rollickin’ Roadsters, a ride where cars dance to Italian music.
5. Disney bound
Disney bounding means casual cosplay. You wear normal clothes that are reminiscent of a Disney character. On our last day, we all Disney bounded. I was the sorcerer’s apprentice in a red dress, blue tights with stars and moons, and yellow sneakers. Little Brother was Peter Pan, the Seamstress was Kim Possible, and Pepper was Moana.
6. Meet new friends
We met Moana! In case you were wondering how adorable she is…she’s very adorable. Although she took over the Aladdin’s Oasis area for her meet and greet, which was strange, but I suppose it’s only fair payback after Iago took over Disney World’s Enchanted Tiki Room.
We also met someone who frankly was almost more special. See, my parents have this VHS that we Obnoxiouses watch whenever we need a Disney fix. It’s called A Day at Disneyland. It was filmed in the early 90s, I think. There’s a segment at the Big Thunder Mountain Barbecue where a man dressed in an Old Western outfit plays the fiddle and sings a song that goes, “Turkey in the straw, ha ha ha. Turkey in the hay, hey hey hey!” He’s only in about 30 seconds of the whole show, but he has such a distinct voice and makes such funny faces that it’s an iconic moment for us.
A few years ago, when Little Sister went on a trip to Disneyland (with the Ladies’ Man family no less; Little Sister and the Ladies’ Man’s little sister are friends), Little Sister saw a guy playing the fiddle in Frontierland and mentioned the video to him. He said that he was the same guy and even played the song for them! Then he asked where they were from. When they said, “Utah,” he asked them if they knew any “Utah songs” and started playing Primary songs (songs that LDS children sing at church). It seemed to be his way of sharing that he, too, was LDS…since cast members aren’t supposed to talk about religion with guests and vice versa.
After that experience, we found out that this fella’s name is Farley. Farley the Fiddler.
On our first day in the park, we were walking through Frontierland on our way to Adventureland when we noticed a man with a fiddle talking to some other guests. He looked vaguely familiar…
We convened in hushed whispers. Was that Farley? Was it not? Should we ask him? Should we ask for a picture with him?
He could probably hear us, because he walked over and started talking to us. Sure enough, it was Farley! He asked us where we were from. When we said “Utah,” he asked, “Have we ever sung the Utah songs together? Let’s sing the Utah songs together.” Then we sang “Popcorn Popping on the Apricot Tree” and “Once There Was a Snowman.”
Then Farley invited us to help him do a rendition of “Twelve Days of Christmas” on his fiddle. He fiddled. We sang and did the silly actions he told us to do.
After we were over, he said, “You had fun with Farley! So what do they get?” he asked the guests he had been talking to before we came over.
“A sticker!” they cried. Sure enough, Farley gave us his own themed stickers. Wow!
7. Explore nooks and crannies
I got to see a couple new areas of the parks that I’d never seen before. For one thing, I’d never had to get fast passes before, because my parents usually do that. I hadn’t realized that the fast pass areas were like little themed grottos. At one point, I left the rest of the group to grab fast passes for Haunted Mansion Holiday.
Guess what? The fast pass area for the ride is legit creepy! There’s a wrought iron fence around it…tall shrubbery…and cemetery-style statues enclosing the fast pass kiosks. There’s also weird chiming music. I got in…got my fast passes…and got out!
We also found something that not even Little Brother knew about. First of all, you should know that my family has one particular Disneyland tradition that we honor above almost any other: Splash Mountain at night.
Hardly anyone goes on Splash Mountain at night. Getting soaking wet late at night is a cold experience, even in California. Plus, Fantasmic is usually playing on the Rivers of America, so the rides in the Frontierland/Critter Country/New Orleans Square area tend to be empty. Fantasmic wasn’t playing right now due to construction. However, as it was December (and a frigid fifty-something degrees), Splash Mountain was still empty. We went on it three times in rapid succession. My roommates, who initially seemed hesitant about the idea, seemed to be loving it by the time we slogged off the ride. (You have to slog when your shoes are that wet.)
It was ten minutes to close at that point. On our way out of the park, we stopped at bathrooms on New Orleans Square. While we were there, we heard a pre-recorded conversation that was playing from one of the false apartment fronts over the shops. Little Brother had told us that a lot of the buildings had recorded noises coming from them. However, during the day it’s too busy and loud in the park to hear most of them.
Well, we could clearly hear this conversation in the quiet of the closing park. It seemed to be a dramatic exchange between two people cooking a chicken. And it was hilarious. We’ve been quoting it ever since: “…the chicken that I entrusted to your care!” Little Brother has researched it since we got home, but he hasn’t found anyone online who has reported hearing that same conversation.
So there you go. Even I, a person who has gone to Disneyland many, many times, did things that I’d never done before. I’m telling you, you’ll never run out of things to do there. It’s simply not possible.
Monday, December 19, 2016
Adulting, First Class
I'm a fraud.
I've been an adult for years, and I still have no idea what I'm doing.
A few months ago, I decided to buy a new product with which to clean my shower. I had been using the generic cleaner that I used on the bathroom sink, but it didn't seem to work on the shower very well. I had no idea what to put on my grocery list, though. I was leaning towards, "Something to clean the shower with but I don't even know what people use for that so yeah."
When I had to sign up for benefits for my full-time position, I could hardly understand a word in the retirement program package. It was all, "Blah blah you should save this much unless you plan to be in a higher tax bracket when you retire in which case you should save this much." What? How does one plan to achieve a higher tax bracket? How would I even know I'd achieved a higher tax bracket? I don't even know what tax bracket I'm in now!
I just don't feel like I'm actually an adult. I feel like I'm in a perpetual state of audition to be said adult, and that any moment now somebody with a clipboard is going to come up to me and say, "Sorry, we've decided not to cast you in the role of Adult. You can leave now." Except that keeps not happening. But nobody gives me a script, either. But if I'm ever like, "Wait, what's happening? What are we doing?" then all of the other people in the role of Adult are like, "Ha ha! You've been doing this for years. You should totally know what we're doing!" and then proceed to not explain anything. (Except for my parents, who are pretty understanding of my lack of adultness, probably because they still see a child when they look at me because I will always be a child to them because parents.) It's like it's all one humongous charade, and it's terribly blasé to point out that the charade is indeed a charade.
Does anyone else know what I mean???
When you know that you don't know anything about being an adult, you start to question the validity of adult things you do. When I say adult things, I mean things that you don't realize you have to do until you are an adult and you realize that someone has to do them or they don't get done. For example, when you go to Disneyland, somebody has to buy the plane tickets, book a ride from the airport to the hotel, book the hotel, arrange for a ride from the hotel to Disneyland, buy the tickets for Disneyland, make any Disney dining reservations, and so on and so forth. I was the person who did all of those things except book the hotel and arrange rides to Disneyland (Pepper booked the hotel, and the hotel happily had a shuttle going directly to Disneyland). This meant that, as our Disneyland trip drew nearer, the more convinced I became that it wasn't going to happen. After all, I'd never bought plane tickets or booked a ride from an airport or bought Disneyland tickets before. I'd never had to be the responsible adult who did that. I was vastly unprepared to be the responsible adult who did that, and thus in my total inexperience I must have done something wrong. You follow?
In short, I was a nervous wreck up until the last minute possible.
I was a nervous wreck while packing.
I was a nervous wreck as I printed off our Disneyland tickets, our flight itineraries, our SuperShuttle itineraries, and our reservation information. Were all of those things accessible from my phone? Absolutely. But I wasn't about to take any chances, not even when I had a portable phone charger with enough juice for two full charges.
I was a nervous wreck 24 hours before our flight, when I discovered a strange error on my and my roommates' plane tickets. Instead of being separated (like this: Awkward Mormon Girl Middle Name Obnoxious), they were squished together (like this: AwkwardMormonGirlMiddleName Obnoxious). I called the airline (which ugh ugh ugh). The particular airline worker to whom I was connected proceeded to call me "honey" throughout our interaction.
I told her that our names were showing up weird and obviously I had to fix that or else our boarding passes wouldn't match our IDs and then nobody would let us on the plane because they would think we were terrorists.
The worker brought up our flight information and informed me that, apparently, our first and middle names had been squished together because they were too long and they wouldn't fit on the boarding passes otherwise.
"So it won't be a problem?" I asked.
"No, honey. They can look at your passenger data and see your real names there."
I went to bed, cheered, and then realized that I should not be cheered. Problem or not, it was still one more thing to worry about!
The next day, at the airport, I had like seven fits of anxiety about what was going to happen. You'd think I could just relax, knowing that I had prepared as much as I possibly could, and leave well enough alone. But I couldn't leave well enough alone, because by arranging most everything I had made myself the mother, father, orphan-raising big sister, and other assorted legal guardians of the entire trip. I was responsible for everything.
"We're fine," I said over and over. "Everything is fine. There's no reason why anything should go wrong." And yet I kept expecting that something would.
However, the Seamstress, Pepper, Little Brother, and I were on time for the airport. I'd remembered the papers with our confirmation codes. Everyone had their ID. There were no problems with our boarding passes, nobody was accused of being a terrorist, Little Brother wasn't accused of being an adult trying to pass as a teenager, I wasn't accused of being a teenager trying to pass as an adult, we found the right gate, and the weather was great. The plane didn't crash on the way to Cali, either. When we got to LAX, we found my luggage and the shuttle pickup without too much trouble.
And lo and behold! The weather was...pleasant. The natives were all bundled up in big coats, but we were enjoying the balminess of the breeze. Our shuttle took us to our hotel, we checked in, we found our room. Lo and behold again! Our room was one of the nicer hotel rooms I've stayed in.
I was exhausted, what with the long day I'd had at work and the travel and the amount of anxiety I had exerted over the past 24 hours. I went to bed as soon as I was able...and hardly slept all night. It was anxiety again. But this time...it was good anxiety. I was as excited as I get the night before Christmas!
Finally, it was time to wake up. It wasn't long before everyone was washed, dressed, groomed, fed, and waiting impatiently on the curb for the Disneyland shuttle.
As we waited, it was now Pepper's turn to be anxious. As I said before, Pepper was the one responsible for this portion of the trip, and she started to worry that the shuttle wasn't going to come as expected. "I know everything is fine," she said, "but..."
Apparently, the greater portion of adulthood is knowing everything is fine but worrying about it regardless.
I've been an adult for years, and I still have no idea what I'm doing.
A few months ago, I decided to buy a new product with which to clean my shower. I had been using the generic cleaner that I used on the bathroom sink, but it didn't seem to work on the shower very well. I had no idea what to put on my grocery list, though. I was leaning towards, "Something to clean the shower with but I don't even know what people use for that so yeah."
When I had to sign up for benefits for my full-time position, I could hardly understand a word in the retirement program package. It was all, "Blah blah you should save this much unless you plan to be in a higher tax bracket when you retire in which case you should save this much." What? How does one plan to achieve a higher tax bracket? How would I even know I'd achieved a higher tax bracket? I don't even know what tax bracket I'm in now!
I just don't feel like I'm actually an adult. I feel like I'm in a perpetual state of audition to be said adult, and that any moment now somebody with a clipboard is going to come up to me and say, "Sorry, we've decided not to cast you in the role of Adult. You can leave now." Except that keeps not happening. But nobody gives me a script, either. But if I'm ever like, "Wait, what's happening? What are we doing?" then all of the other people in the role of Adult are like, "Ha ha! You've been doing this for years. You should totally know what we're doing!" and then proceed to not explain anything. (Except for my parents, who are pretty understanding of my lack of adultness, probably because they still see a child when they look at me because I will always be a child to them because parents.) It's like it's all one humongous charade, and it's terribly blasé to point out that the charade is indeed a charade.
Does anyone else know what I mean???
When you know that you don't know anything about being an adult, you start to question the validity of adult things you do. When I say adult things, I mean things that you don't realize you have to do until you are an adult and you realize that someone has to do them or they don't get done. For example, when you go to Disneyland, somebody has to buy the plane tickets, book a ride from the airport to the hotel, book the hotel, arrange for a ride from the hotel to Disneyland, buy the tickets for Disneyland, make any Disney dining reservations, and so on and so forth. I was the person who did all of those things except book the hotel and arrange rides to Disneyland (Pepper booked the hotel, and the hotel happily had a shuttle going directly to Disneyland). This meant that, as our Disneyland trip drew nearer, the more convinced I became that it wasn't going to happen. After all, I'd never bought plane tickets or booked a ride from an airport or bought Disneyland tickets before. I'd never had to be the responsible adult who did that. I was vastly unprepared to be the responsible adult who did that, and thus in my total inexperience I must have done something wrong. You follow?
In short, I was a nervous wreck up until the last minute possible.
I was a nervous wreck while packing.
I was a nervous wreck as I printed off our Disneyland tickets, our flight itineraries, our SuperShuttle itineraries, and our reservation information. Were all of those things accessible from my phone? Absolutely. But I wasn't about to take any chances, not even when I had a portable phone charger with enough juice for two full charges.
I was a nervous wreck 24 hours before our flight, when I discovered a strange error on my and my roommates' plane tickets. Instead of being separated (like this: Awkward Mormon Girl Middle Name Obnoxious), they were squished together (like this: AwkwardMormonGirlMiddleName Obnoxious). I called the airline (which ugh ugh ugh). The particular airline worker to whom I was connected proceeded to call me "honey" throughout our interaction.
I told her that our names were showing up weird and obviously I had to fix that or else our boarding passes wouldn't match our IDs and then nobody would let us on the plane because they would think we were terrorists.
The worker brought up our flight information and informed me that, apparently, our first and middle names had been squished together because they were too long and they wouldn't fit on the boarding passes otherwise.
"So it won't be a problem?" I asked.
"No, honey. They can look at your passenger data and see your real names there."
I went to bed, cheered, and then realized that I should not be cheered. Problem or not, it was still one more thing to worry about!
The next day, at the airport, I had like seven fits of anxiety about what was going to happen. You'd think I could just relax, knowing that I had prepared as much as I possibly could, and leave well enough alone. But I couldn't leave well enough alone, because by arranging most everything I had made myself the mother, father, orphan-raising big sister, and other assorted legal guardians of the entire trip. I was responsible for everything.
"We're fine," I said over and over. "Everything is fine. There's no reason why anything should go wrong." And yet I kept expecting that something would.
However, the Seamstress, Pepper, Little Brother, and I were on time for the airport. I'd remembered the papers with our confirmation codes. Everyone had their ID. There were no problems with our boarding passes, nobody was accused of being a terrorist, Little Brother wasn't accused of being an adult trying to pass as a teenager, I wasn't accused of being a teenager trying to pass as an adult, we found the right gate, and the weather was great. The plane didn't crash on the way to Cali, either. When we got to LAX, we found my luggage and the shuttle pickup without too much trouble.
And lo and behold! The weather was...pleasant. The natives were all bundled up in big coats, but we were enjoying the balminess of the breeze. Our shuttle took us to our hotel, we checked in, we found our room. Lo and behold again! Our room was one of the nicer hotel rooms I've stayed in.
I was exhausted, what with the long day I'd had at work and the travel and the amount of anxiety I had exerted over the past 24 hours. I went to bed as soon as I was able...and hardly slept all night. It was anxiety again. But this time...it was good anxiety. I was as excited as I get the night before Christmas!
Finally, it was time to wake up. It wasn't long before everyone was washed, dressed, groomed, fed, and waiting impatiently on the curb for the Disneyland shuttle.
As we waited, it was now Pepper's turn to be anxious. As I said before, Pepper was the one responsible for this portion of the trip, and she started to worry that the shuttle wasn't going to come as expected. "I know everything is fine," she said, "but..."
Apparently, the greater portion of adulthood is knowing everything is fine but worrying about it regardless.
Thursday, December 15, 2016
Overheard During Movies
We were in Arizona for a family reunion when Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix came out in theaters. The older cousins and some of the parents therefore attended a showing for one of our family activities.
During the movie, some kids behind us made obnoxious comments. I don't remember said comments, but I do remember one of my cousins, who apparently was focused intently on the movie and didn't hear the kids at all, hissing, "Stop laughing, guys. This part isn't funny."
Similar kids sat behind us a few weeks ago during Moana (if you haven't seen Moana, you probably shouldn't finish this post).
At one point, Moana says that she knows someone who can help her make the ocean voyage.
KID #1: Who? Her boyfriend?
Then Moana's family learns that the grandmother is dying.
KID #1: Eh. She won't be missed.
KID #2: She will be missed. I'm crying!
And so on and so forth. We were practically rolling in the aisles (yes, even during parts of the movie that weren't funny).
Of course, I tend to talk during movies myself. But that's a story for another day.
During the movie, some kids behind us made obnoxious comments. I don't remember said comments, but I do remember one of my cousins, who apparently was focused intently on the movie and didn't hear the kids at all, hissing, "Stop laughing, guys. This part isn't funny."
Similar kids sat behind us a few weeks ago during Moana (if you haven't seen Moana, you probably shouldn't finish this post).
At one point, Moana says that she knows someone who can help her make the ocean voyage.
KID #1: Who? Her boyfriend?
Then Moana's family learns that the grandmother is dying.
KID #1: Eh. She won't be missed.
KID #2: She will be missed. I'm crying!
And so on and so forth. We were practically rolling in the aisles (yes, even during parts of the movie that weren't funny).
Of course, I tend to talk during movies myself. But that's a story for another day.
Monday, December 5, 2016
O Christmas Tree
One of the best things about living away from home is having my own Christmas tree. Or rather, having the Seamstress's Christmas tree.
I never put up the Christmas tree at my parents' house, so the concept of assembling a tree and putting lights was somewhat foreign to me. The Seamstress has a system for putting on lights. She likes the lights to be heavy on the bottom, lighter on top, with the cords extending to the very tips of the branches.
She also has matching ornaments (something we definitely do not have at the Obnoxious home) and a system to go with them. The system is to not only put ornaments on the outside of the tree but to put some inside the branches as well. This creates a sort of layered effect when one peers into the depths of the tree.
Ain't it pretty?!
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
25 Ways Over 25 Days
There's some fun Christmas stuff happening right now at mormon.org. For the past couple Christmases, my church has done a Christmas campaign. These campaigns remind people of the true meaning of Christmas, and they always involve an inspiring video (as seen on the website).
This year, the campaign is #LighttheWorld. This particular campaign involves more than just a video. It comes with a challenge: do 25 acts of service on December 1st through December 25th. That's one act of service every day. The service can be any kind of service, and it can be for anyone. However, if coming up with new things proves to be difficult, there are themed ideas posted on the website every day, idea that are drawn from various aspects of Christ's life.
I'm excited for this. What with my trip to Disneyland this month, completing an act of service every day might be a little difficult. Still I'm eager to try.
Anyways, this campaign's not just for LDS folk. It's for anyone who wants to join. So if you have an interest in serving in 25 ways over 25 days, do it with me! I think it will make this Christmas particularly memorable.
This year, the campaign is #LighttheWorld. This particular campaign involves more than just a video. It comes with a challenge: do 25 acts of service on December 1st through December 25th. That's one act of service every day. The service can be any kind of service, and it can be for anyone. However, if coming up with new things proves to be difficult, there are themed ideas posted on the website every day, idea that are drawn from various aspects of Christ's life.
I'm excited for this. What with my trip to Disneyland this month, completing an act of service every day might be a little difficult. Still I'm eager to try.
Anyways, this campaign's not just for LDS folk. It's for anyone who wants to join. So if you have an interest in serving in 25 ways over 25 days, do it with me! I think it will make this Christmas particularly memorable.
Tuesday, November 29, 2016
Story of My Life
As an LDS, I went to a class called seminary. As a young adult, I go to a class called institute.
Seminary has four years, one each for a different book of scripture (Old Testament (and Pearl of Great Price if I recall correctly), New Testament, Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants). Institute has endless years (until you graduate or get super old) and there are a variety of semester-long classes. Some focus on particular books of scripture, but some focus on only one thing: Christ, latter-day prophets, even dating and other relationships.
Throughout my years of classes, I've used the same set of scriptures. However, I've switched marking pencil colors throughout the years. Therefore, when I open up my scriptures at institute and see a marking, I can usually tell when it's from.
Today at institute, I found a highlighted verse, 1 Nephi 4:6. "And I was led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do."
Next to it, in one of the marking pencils from my teenage years, I'd written this notation: "This is beginning to be my life's story..."
And next to that, in a marking pencil from my college years, I'd written, "Oh, teenage Awkward Mormon Girl, you have no idea."
Today, when I read those notes, I laughed. Because college Awkward Mormon Girl thought she was so much smarter than teenage Awkward Mormon Girl. But really, college Awkward Mormon Girl was only slightly less clueless than our teenage counterpart. That verse really has turned into the story of my life. That's all. The End. Go to institute. Good night.
Seminary has four years, one each for a different book of scripture (Old Testament (and Pearl of Great Price if I recall correctly), New Testament, Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants). Institute has endless years (until you graduate or get super old) and there are a variety of semester-long classes. Some focus on particular books of scripture, but some focus on only one thing: Christ, latter-day prophets, even dating and other relationships.
Throughout my years of classes, I've used the same set of scriptures. However, I've switched marking pencil colors throughout the years. Therefore, when I open up my scriptures at institute and see a marking, I can usually tell when it's from.
Today at institute, I found a highlighted verse, 1 Nephi 4:6. "And I was led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do."
Next to it, in one of the marking pencils from my teenage years, I'd written this notation: "This is beginning to be my life's story..."
And next to that, in a marking pencil from my college years, I'd written, "Oh, teenage Awkward Mormon Girl, you have no idea."
Today, when I read those notes, I laughed. Because college Awkward Mormon Girl thought she was so much smarter than teenage Awkward Mormon Girl. But really, college Awkward Mormon Girl was only slightly less clueless than our teenage counterpart. That verse really has turned into the story of my life. That's all. The End. Go to institute. Good night.
Monday, November 28, 2016
The Grateful (Not-)Dead
We just had Thanksgiving, so it's time to talk about what we're grateful for! Which is very cliché, no? However, let's start off by talking about some not-grateful things first.
This isn't quite where I imagined being at this point in my life. I really did think that I'd be married by now and maybe have a kid. Now, I don't think that my value is defined by my ability to find a romantic relationship, but the fact of the matter stands that having a family is the most worthwhile thing I can of to do with my life. That's where the sadness at my current circumstances comes in.
Some months ago, it was my birthday. It just so happens that the Seamstress and I have birthdays on consecutive days. I proposed having a joint birthday open house. Not a party, mind you. I didn't want to have any planned activities. I just wanted to be free to talk to people and not have to worry about entertaining them. (Don't worry; we did provide dinner so that our friends got something out of it.) I invited all of my lifelong friends. Most of them were able to come.
At one point during this birthday open house, I paused and looked around at what was happening. There was the Seamstress; there was Pepper, each talking to different guests. A friend from our ward was coloring in coloring books with Etch-a-Sketch while Mr. Etch-a-Sketch tended to his and Etch-a-Sketch's infant. I was chatting with Best Friend Boy while La Petite, curled up around Mr. La Petite, was deep in conversation with Viola. Some of these people had hardly met each other before this evening, but all of them were joined by the common bond of caring about either the Seamstress or about me or about both.
In that moment, I had an epiphany. I have made a family of my own in my adult years. Not a biological family, no. But I have collected all of these people, and they make up an interim family to serve between stepping away from my parents' family and heading a family with my future husband. This interim family is one of the things that I'm most grateful for this year.
That really is cliché, I know! Yet it's also very true.
This isn't quite where I imagined being at this point in my life. I really did think that I'd be married by now and maybe have a kid. Now, I don't think that my value is defined by my ability to find a romantic relationship, but the fact of the matter stands that having a family is the most worthwhile thing I can of to do with my life. That's where the sadness at my current circumstances comes in.
Some months ago, it was my birthday. It just so happens that the Seamstress and I have birthdays on consecutive days. I proposed having a joint birthday open house. Not a party, mind you. I didn't want to have any planned activities. I just wanted to be free to talk to people and not have to worry about entertaining them. (Don't worry; we did provide dinner so that our friends got something out of it.) I invited all of my lifelong friends. Most of them were able to come.
At one point during this birthday open house, I paused and looked around at what was happening. There was the Seamstress; there was Pepper, each talking to different guests. A friend from our ward was coloring in coloring books with Etch-a-Sketch while Mr. Etch-a-Sketch tended to his and Etch-a-Sketch's infant. I was chatting with Best Friend Boy while La Petite, curled up around Mr. La Petite, was deep in conversation with Viola. Some of these people had hardly met each other before this evening, but all of them were joined by the common bond of caring about either the Seamstress or about me or about both.
In that moment, I had an epiphany. I have made a family of my own in my adult years. Not a biological family, no. But I have collected all of these people, and they make up an interim family to serve between stepping away from my parents' family and heading a family with my future husband. This interim family is one of the things that I'm most grateful for this year.
That really is cliché, I know! Yet it's also very true.
Wednesday, November 23, 2016
Pre-Thanksgiving Post
We're in that awkward stage of the year that happens after Halloween but before Thanksgiving. Pre-Thanksgiving, if you will. Let me tell you what has happened during pre-Thanksgiving.
First off, we had our first snow. Coincidentally, this was also the day Christmas music came on the radio (or not so coincidentally. Maybe the radio station planned it. Who knows?). In any case, everyone was way more prepared for this first snow than they were for the first snow last year. A few hours before it started snowing, Baby Sister and I went grocery shopping. There were plows driving around Hometown, ready to tackle the snow the instant it appeared. Sure enough, when I woke up the next morning, there were several inches of snow on my car, but there was no snow on the roads. Hooray and hallelu!
Secondly, Thanksgiving plans have been in order. I texted my mom to find out what my share of the dinner would be.
Third and lastly, I've been working. Except I tell you what, since Monday everyone at work has been a little antsy. We've been so anxious for the holidays that we're generally useless.
Last night, when I was finally, finally on my way home and trying to turn left on a busy street, I saw one of my coworkers standing on the curb like he was contemplating jaywalking.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: If you try to cross this very busy street right now, I will hate you forever.
Sure enough, he ran across all four lanes of traffic as soon as the coast was clear. Now I hate him forever.
First off, we had our first snow. Coincidentally, this was also the day Christmas music came on the radio (or not so coincidentally. Maybe the radio station planned it. Who knows?). In any case, everyone was way more prepared for this first snow than they were for the first snow last year. A few hours before it started snowing, Baby Sister and I went grocery shopping. There were plows driving around Hometown, ready to tackle the snow the instant it appeared. Sure enough, when I woke up the next morning, there were several inches of snow on my car, but there was no snow on the roads. Hooray and hallelu!
Secondly, Thanksgiving plans have been in order. I texted my mom to find out what my share of the dinner would be.
Last night, when I was finally, finally on my way home and trying to turn left on a busy street, I saw one of my coworkers standing on the curb like he was contemplating jaywalking.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: If you try to cross this very busy street right now, I will hate you forever.
Sure enough, he ran across all four lanes of traffic as soon as the coast was clear. Now I hate him forever.
Friday, November 18, 2016
Why I Shouldn't Be Allowed on Amazon
I recently did some extra work, for which I was paid entirely in Amazon gift cards.
I hate to spend money. I prefer to save it. So being presented with such a prodigious amount of money that I absolutely, positively, have to spend has been quite the experience.
I bought items to Disney bound as the sorcerer's apprentice at Disneyland. I bought Viola's birthday present and several Christmas presents. I bought a book that my ward book club is reading.
My mother had some suggestions on other things I should purchase. She pointed out that I needed new boots and, she said, a new jacket.
I definitely needed new boots, so I ordered some. I didn't really feel like I needed a new jacket, so somehow in my mind I replaced that word "new" with the word "patchwork." I could see how I might need a new, patchwork jacket.
And that, my friends, is the problem with having an excess of money that you absolutely have to spend. I decided it would be a good idea to buy this jacket.
I was sorely mistaken.
This jacket looks much better in pictures than it does in person. It looked perfect in all the pictures but it was something akin to a disaster when actually placed upon my person. I'm returning it tomorrow.
The moral of the story is that apparently I should not be allowed to have Amazon gift cards because this is the kind of thing I buy. Someone intervene before I continue along this vein and end up with a collection of the most absurd stuff.
I hate to spend money. I prefer to save it. So being presented with such a prodigious amount of money that I absolutely, positively, have to spend has been quite the experience.
I bought items to Disney bound as the sorcerer's apprentice at Disneyland. I bought Viola's birthday present and several Christmas presents. I bought a book that my ward book club is reading.
My mother had some suggestions on other things I should purchase. She pointed out that I needed new boots and, she said, a new jacket.
I definitely needed new boots, so I ordered some. I didn't really feel like I needed a new jacket, so somehow in my mind I replaced that word "new" with the word "patchwork." I could see how I might need a new, patchwork jacket.
And that, my friends, is the problem with having an excess of money that you absolutely have to spend. I decided it would be a good idea to buy this jacket.
This jacket looks much better in pictures than it does in person. It looked perfect in all the pictures but it was something akin to a disaster when actually placed upon my person. I'm returning it tomorrow.
The moral of the story is that apparently I should not be allowed to have Amazon gift cards because this is the kind of thing I buy. Someone intervene before I continue along this vein and end up with a collection of the most absurd stuff.
Wednesday, November 16, 2016
And My Next Destination Is...
...not New York City.
New York City is Little Sister's next destination. She and Rosebud are going to spend a few days with Older Sister and see some shows. I'm sad I won't be there with Little Sister, since we had such fun on our NYC trips together, but she's going to bring me back some macarons from Baked by Melissa so that will almost make it better. Plus, she won't even be there long enough to see the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, so how jealous of her can I really be?
No, my next destination is D to the I to the S-N-E-Y land!!!
I essentially told my roommates that I wanted to go to Disneyland and that they were welcome to come along but that I would be planning on vacationing in the frantic, frenetic Obnoxious family way. Surprisingly, they still wanted to come. The original idea was to go in September, but life got in the way. So I proposed that we go during December. Christmastime at Disneyland is amazing, and not too crowded. Plus, if we went early enough in December, kids would still be in school, which would mean that it would be even less crowded. Once I had explained just how magical it is, my roommates were keen on the idea.
Last month, I bought the plane tickets. It was a moment of celebration and jubilation because, now that our plane tickets were purchased, there was no going back! What had once only been talked about was now a reality.
The only problem was that there were three of us. Disneyland is best with even numbers. That way everyone can have a buddy on the rides.
Now, I don't know if I've conveyed this clearly before, but Little Brother. Loves. Disneyland. He was the one I consulted with as I planned the trip. When we were thinking of going in September, he told me all of the special attractions going on at that time. When the trip moved to December, he enthusiastically explained what he knew of the new Christmas World of Color attraction and told me what rides would be closed while I was there.
So, when I was later bemoaning the lack of a fourth person, my roommates asked if Little Brother might like to come. They even offered to help pay for Little Brother to come. That is the kind of love that Little Brother has for Disneyland. Other people actually want to pay for him to go to Disneyland because he loves it so much.
I said that the issue was not so much money; I might even be willing and able to pay for Little Brother to go if my parents couldn't. The real problem was that Little Brother would be in school during our trip, and it wouldn't be prudent for him to miss.
A few days later, I mentioned to my mom that my roommates had invited Little Brother on my trip. I mentioned it because I thought it was amusing, not because I thought there was any chance that he would be able to go. But Mom sort of stared off into the distance and got thoughtful.
"I might let him go," she said.
And a few days later, it was all settled. Mom and Dad would pay for Little Brother's Disneyland ticket and give him spending money, while I would pay for his plane ticket and let him stay in the hotel room for free. In trade-off, he would receive only small Christmas presents from me, the parents, and Santa on Christmas Day. Little Brother was over the moon, which is an expression that doesn't always make sense, but which totally worked in this situation. Little Brother was so happy he was practically floating, and it was not inconceivable that he could float right through the atmosphere and into outer space.
Actually, it would have been useful if he could have floated straight to Disneyland, because getting his ticket turned out to be a hassle.
I'd booked the tickets for myself, Pepper, and the Seamstress on Expedia. It was but the work of a moment to log on late one night and find the same flights we'd reserved. I then proceeded to book a ticket for Little Brother.
Except not really, because, as Expedia so graciously informed me, I couldn't book a ticket online for a minor flying solo.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: He's not flying solo! He's flying with his sister and his sister's roommates.
But that didn't seem to matter to Expedia. So I did the thing I dread so much and called Expedia up. When I finally reached a human person, the thickly accented girl asked me for my name.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: It's Awkward Mormon Girl.
EXPEDIA GIRL: Okay, Miss Awkward Mormon Girl. What can I do for you?
I explained that I needed to add a minor to my flight plans, but that I couldn't on Expedia's website.
EXPEDIA: Okay, Miss Awkward Mormon Girl, I completely understand that you want to take your child with you to California.
Normally I might have let that slide, but given that I was dealing with an airline who had all of my information and who would, if they were paying attention, quickly figure out that it was biologically impossible for me to be Little Brother's mother, I decided I'd better say something in the interest of transparency.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Oh, uh, I mean, you can probably see from my information you have pulled up there that I'm too young to—he's actually my brother.
After a very long and taxing conversation, I was informed that Expedia couldn't help me, but that if I called Delta directly, they could book Little Brother's ticket for me.
That led to another very long and taxing conversation.
DELTA GIRL: And which of the individuals in the flight plan will be bringing an infant?
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Uh...so he's actually my brother.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: And he's a teenager.
After quite a bit of back and forth, of being put on hold, and of being asked Little Brother's personal information such as name, birthdate, blood type, and Hogwarts house, I was finally able to purchase a ticket.
Before I hung up with Delta, a thought struck me.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: And will this ticket be round trip, like mine?
DELTA GIRL: Your ticket's not round trip.
I quickly realized what was going on.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: So you're telling me that because the return ticket I purchased through Expedia is with a different airline, I will have to call that different airline and book a separate return ticket for my brother?
DELTA GIRL: Yes.
If I were the fainting type, I probably would have fainted right then.
One more phone call and another half hour later, everything was finally in order. Not long after, Pepper booked the hotel. Then I booked the Disneyland tickets. All we need now is reservations for transportation to and from the airport, and we'll be all set! It's going to be magical.
New York City is Little Sister's next destination. She and Rosebud are going to spend a few days with Older Sister and see some shows. I'm sad I won't be there with Little Sister, since we had such fun on our NYC trips together, but she's going to bring me back some macarons from Baked by Melissa so that will almost make it better. Plus, she won't even be there long enough to see the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, so how jealous of her can I really be?
No, my next destination is D to the I to the S-N-E-Y land!!!
I essentially told my roommates that I wanted to go to Disneyland and that they were welcome to come along but that I would be planning on vacationing in the frantic, frenetic Obnoxious family way. Surprisingly, they still wanted to come. The original idea was to go in September, but life got in the way. So I proposed that we go during December. Christmastime at Disneyland is amazing, and not too crowded. Plus, if we went early enough in December, kids would still be in school, which would mean that it would be even less crowded. Once I had explained just how magical it is, my roommates were keen on the idea.
Last month, I bought the plane tickets. It was a moment of celebration and jubilation because, now that our plane tickets were purchased, there was no going back! What had once only been talked about was now a reality.
The only problem was that there were three of us. Disneyland is best with even numbers. That way everyone can have a buddy on the rides.
Now, I don't know if I've conveyed this clearly before, but Little Brother. Loves. Disneyland. He was the one I consulted with as I planned the trip. When we were thinking of going in September, he told me all of the special attractions going on at that time. When the trip moved to December, he enthusiastically explained what he knew of the new Christmas World of Color attraction and told me what rides would be closed while I was there.
So, when I was later bemoaning the lack of a fourth person, my roommates asked if Little Brother might like to come. They even offered to help pay for Little Brother to come. That is the kind of love that Little Brother has for Disneyland. Other people actually want to pay for him to go to Disneyland because he loves it so much.
I said that the issue was not so much money; I might even be willing and able to pay for Little Brother to go if my parents couldn't. The real problem was that Little Brother would be in school during our trip, and it wouldn't be prudent for him to miss.
A few days later, I mentioned to my mom that my roommates had invited Little Brother on my trip. I mentioned it because I thought it was amusing, not because I thought there was any chance that he would be able to go. But Mom sort of stared off into the distance and got thoughtful.
"I might let him go," she said.
And a few days later, it was all settled. Mom and Dad would pay for Little Brother's Disneyland ticket and give him spending money, while I would pay for his plane ticket and let him stay in the hotel room for free. In trade-off, he would receive only small Christmas presents from me, the parents, and Santa on Christmas Day. Little Brother was over the moon, which is an expression that doesn't always make sense, but which totally worked in this situation. Little Brother was so happy he was practically floating, and it was not inconceivable that he could float right through the atmosphere and into outer space.
Actually, it would have been useful if he could have floated straight to Disneyland, because getting his ticket turned out to be a hassle.
I'd booked the tickets for myself, Pepper, and the Seamstress on Expedia. It was but the work of a moment to log on late one night and find the same flights we'd reserved. I then proceeded to book a ticket for Little Brother.
Except not really, because, as Expedia so graciously informed me, I couldn't book a ticket online for a minor flying solo.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: He's not flying solo! He's flying with his sister and his sister's roommates.
But that didn't seem to matter to Expedia. So I did the thing I dread so much and called Expedia up. When I finally reached a human person, the thickly accented girl asked me for my name.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: It's Awkward Mormon Girl.
EXPEDIA GIRL: Okay, Miss Awkward Mormon Girl. What can I do for you?
I explained that I needed to add a minor to my flight plans, but that I couldn't on Expedia's website.
EXPEDIA: Okay, Miss Awkward Mormon Girl, I completely understand that you want to take your child with you to California.
Normally I might have let that slide, but given that I was dealing with an airline who had all of my information and who would, if they were paying attention, quickly figure out that it was biologically impossible for me to be Little Brother's mother, I decided I'd better say something in the interest of transparency.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Oh, uh, I mean, you can probably see from my information you have pulled up there that I'm too young to—he's actually my brother.
After a very long and taxing conversation, I was informed that Expedia couldn't help me, but that if I called Delta directly, they could book Little Brother's ticket for me.
That led to another very long and taxing conversation.
DELTA GIRL: And which of the individuals in the flight plan will be bringing an infant?
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Uh...so he's actually my brother.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: And he's a teenager.
After quite a bit of back and forth, of being put on hold, and of being asked Little Brother's personal information such as name, birthdate, blood type, and Hogwarts house, I was finally able to purchase a ticket.
Before I hung up with Delta, a thought struck me.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: And will this ticket be round trip, like mine?
DELTA GIRL: Your ticket's not round trip.
I quickly realized what was going on.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: So you're telling me that because the return ticket I purchased through Expedia is with a different airline, I will have to call that different airline and book a separate return ticket for my brother?
DELTA GIRL: Yes.
If I were the fainting type, I probably would have fainted right then.
One more phone call and another half hour later, everything was finally in order. Not long after, Pepper booked the hotel. Then I booked the Disneyland tickets. All we need now is reservations for transportation to and from the airport, and we'll be all set! It's going to be magical.
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
Heartbroken
Context: No, this isn't a post about the election. The only thing I have to say about the election is this: it reminded me of the series finale of The Legend of Korra. Leading up to the finale, I saw where things were headed, and even though I didn't like it, it at least made some sense. Then, when the finale actually happened, it was different than expected. I still didn't like it, but it didn't even make much sense. It was like some writer had panicked and thrown in some crazy stuff so that the ending was a surprise...and that's about how the election came across to me.
This post is actually about dating. I don't write much about specific dating experiences on my blog. Dating is hard enough without having your flaws deconstructed online by someone with whom you went on a date, am I right? However, it seemed appropriate to share the following experience...maybe because it's less about a fella's interactions with me and more about my own internal struggle.
I was heartbroken. Really, truly heartbroken. A guy I cared about had crushed my little heart. No, we weren't dating, but actual dating, I discovered, is not a necessary component of heartbreak. Even if a relationship doesn't actually happen, the strong feelings can still exist.
Immediately following this heartbreak, I went on a date with a guy from a family that is friends with my family. Soon we went on another date. And another...and another.
He was a nice guy. He was cute. He was fun. He was about to go out of state for college, but he hinted that if I gave him a reason to stay, he would stay.
He didn't have all of the qualities I wanted in a boyfriend, though, and so I wrestled with myself, wondering if the lack of those qualities was important enough to rule him out. Sometimes I thought yes. Sometimes I thought no.
The pressure to date him was strong. There was some pressure from my family and some pressure from my friends. They wanted me to be happy, and, on paper, this was the perfect opportunity. It did seem like the right ending to the way things had been going. Just picture it: brokenhearted girl is brokenhearted. Nice guy steps in. She should let nice guy heal and then win her heart, right? It would make sense. It would tie up the loose ends. But...I just couldn't go through with it.
I thought about it, and I prayed about it. I even flipped a coin repeatedly—not as a way to actually make the decision but as a way to figure out what I was actually feeling. I'd heard that when you flip a coin and pretend you'll go with the coin's decision, you'll know what you actually want based on the results. And, sure enough, every time the coin told me to date the fellow, I felt dread. But whenever it said, "Don't date him!" I felt relief.
Madam President even pointed out to me that whenever the guy who had broken my heart texted me, it made me happy, even when I was mad at him. "But when [the guy who wanted to date me] texts you, you never seem excited."
Eventually, I determined that the next time the guy asked me out, I'd say no. However, I think he could tell that I wasn't feeling it, because he never asked me out again. We went our separate ways, and a few months later, he met the girl he ended up marrying.
So that's my story of being heartbroken and of (possible) heartbreaking. I don't know why sometimes things that logically should work out don't feel right and don't turn out. Nor do I know why sometimes things that logically should never work do feel right and turn out. If you've been through one of those experiences and you're looking for someone to explain it to you, I'm sorry: I can't. But if you've been through one of those experiences and you're looking for someone to commiserate with you and say, "It's not fair," you've come to the right place. It isn't fair. Unfortunately, sometimes that's just the way things go.
This post is actually about dating. I don't write much about specific dating experiences on my blog. Dating is hard enough without having your flaws deconstructed online by someone with whom you went on a date, am I right? However, it seemed appropriate to share the following experience...maybe because it's less about a fella's interactions with me and more about my own internal struggle.
I was heartbroken. Really, truly heartbroken. A guy I cared about had crushed my little heart. No, we weren't dating, but actual dating, I discovered, is not a necessary component of heartbreak. Even if a relationship doesn't actually happen, the strong feelings can still exist.
Immediately following this heartbreak, I went on a date with a guy from a family that is friends with my family. Soon we went on another date. And another...and another.
He was a nice guy. He was cute. He was fun. He was about to go out of state for college, but he hinted that if I gave him a reason to stay, he would stay.
He didn't have all of the qualities I wanted in a boyfriend, though, and so I wrestled with myself, wondering if the lack of those qualities was important enough to rule him out. Sometimes I thought yes. Sometimes I thought no.
The pressure to date him was strong. There was some pressure from my family and some pressure from my friends. They wanted me to be happy, and, on paper, this was the perfect opportunity. It did seem like the right ending to the way things had been going. Just picture it: brokenhearted girl is brokenhearted. Nice guy steps in. She should let nice guy heal and then win her heart, right? It would make sense. It would tie up the loose ends. But...I just couldn't go through with it.
I thought about it, and I prayed about it. I even flipped a coin repeatedly—not as a way to actually make the decision but as a way to figure out what I was actually feeling. I'd heard that when you flip a coin and pretend you'll go with the coin's decision, you'll know what you actually want based on the results. And, sure enough, every time the coin told me to date the fellow, I felt dread. But whenever it said, "Don't date him!" I felt relief.
Madam President even pointed out to me that whenever the guy who had broken my heart texted me, it made me happy, even when I was mad at him. "But when [the guy who wanted to date me] texts you, you never seem excited."
Eventually, I determined that the next time the guy asked me out, I'd say no. However, I think he could tell that I wasn't feeling it, because he never asked me out again. We went our separate ways, and a few months later, he met the girl he ended up marrying.
So that's my story of being heartbroken and of (possible) heartbreaking. I don't know why sometimes things that logically should work out don't feel right and don't turn out. Nor do I know why sometimes things that logically should never work do feel right and turn out. If you've been through one of those experiences and you're looking for someone to explain it to you, I'm sorry: I can't. But if you've been through one of those experiences and you're looking for someone to commiserate with you and say, "It's not fair," you've come to the right place. It isn't fair. Unfortunately, sometimes that's just the way things go.
Saturday, November 5, 2016
Goodbye Quits; Hello Bliss
The struggle of this blog has been not having a good computer.
I've loved my laptop, Quits, dearly. However, around the time I started writing this blog, Quits went on the fritz. Doing anything on Quits takes twice as long as it should...maybe longer.
Sometimes, after I publish a blog post, I notice an error in the text.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Oh, shoot. Oh, darn. Guess I'd better fix that.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (turns Quits on)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (logs in)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (eats dinner)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (takes a shower)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (writes in journal)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (sees that Quits's applications are finally loaded)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Oh, it's bedtime! Nvm.
And the error goes uncorrected.
I was excited about the Blogger app, until I realized that the Blogger app is insane. Anything I type in the app shows up in some weird font, and the images turn out all big and crazy. Personally, I was surprised that a Blogger app was released at all. I'm convinced that nobody actually works at Blogger anymore, because in the three and a half years that I've worked on this blog the site has barely been updated.
Essentially, maintaining this blog has been a struggle.
I've been planning to buy a new laptop for at least a year now, but I'm stingy and I just could never make myself part with the money. This week, though, with NaNoWriMo starting and all, I decided to take the plunge.
My new laptop is tiny and turquoise. Since Quits turned out to be a rather prophetic name, I decided to name this one Bliss. Here's hoping...
It's been great to have a new laptop. My only complaint is that this new model of laptop wants to save everything to OneDrive, and I do not want to save things to OneDrive. On Wednesday, I wrote two page of NaNoWriMo work. However, Bliss thought it would be fun to save that work to OneDrive. Little did she realize that my apartment wifi was not working and that none of my work was saving to OneDrive. And, because of the laptop's setting, it wasn't saving to Bliss, either. It wasn't saving at all. In short, I wrote hundreds of words that were lost in cyberspace as soon as I exited the document.
Other than that, things with Bliss have been pretty, shall we say, blissful. I'm hoping that having a functioning laptop will allow me to write more, better-written posts for this blog and to work on more personal projects as well. We'll see.
I've loved my laptop, Quits, dearly. However, around the time I started writing this blog, Quits went on the fritz. Doing anything on Quits takes twice as long as it should...maybe longer.
Sometimes, after I publish a blog post, I notice an error in the text.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Oh, shoot. Oh, darn. Guess I'd better fix that.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (turns Quits on)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (logs in)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (eats dinner)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (takes a shower)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (writes in journal)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (sees that Quits's applications are finally loaded)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Oh, it's bedtime! Nvm.
And the error goes uncorrected.
I was excited about the Blogger app, until I realized that the Blogger app is insane. Anything I type in the app shows up in some weird font, and the images turn out all big and crazy. Personally, I was surprised that a Blogger app was released at all. I'm convinced that nobody actually works at Blogger anymore, because in the three and a half years that I've worked on this blog the site has barely been updated.
Essentially, maintaining this blog has been a struggle.
I've been planning to buy a new laptop for at least a year now, but I'm stingy and I just could never make myself part with the money. This week, though, with NaNoWriMo starting and all, I decided to take the plunge.
My new laptop is tiny and turquoise. Since Quits turned out to be a rather prophetic name, I decided to name this one Bliss. Here's hoping...
It's been great to have a new laptop. My only complaint is that this new model of laptop wants to save everything to OneDrive, and I do not want to save things to OneDrive. On Wednesday, I wrote two page of NaNoWriMo work. However, Bliss thought it would be fun to save that work to OneDrive. Little did she realize that my apartment wifi was not working and that none of my work was saving to OneDrive. And, because of the laptop's setting, it wasn't saving to Bliss, either. It wasn't saving at all. In short, I wrote hundreds of words that were lost in cyberspace as soon as I exited the document.
Other than that, things with Bliss have been pretty, shall we say, blissful. I'm hoping that having a functioning laptop will allow me to write more, better-written posts for this blog and to work on more personal projects as well. We'll see.
Monday, October 31, 2016
Animanie, Totally Insaney
All right. So, for Halloween, I was Dot Warner of Animaniacs fame.
Little Brother is often the force behind assembling group costumes, but this year, I coordinated everything. I bought most of the pieces. I made patterns for the ears. The little brothers helped me make said ears from felt and pipe cleaners. At one point, Baby Brother quoted a line from the show that seemed pertinent to our simple costumes: "Well, this is a fabulously cheap cartoon!"
I carefully bent the finished ears at the angles I deemed most correct to show off each Warner's personality. Please admire this picture of Baby Brother's Wakko hat (from the front), because I thought it turned out very well and I was especially proud of it.
After work, I hurried to my parents' houses so that I could take pictures with my brothers before it got dark.
We took so many cute pictures. My brothers reenacteed part of the Animaniacs theme song (which I have on photo and video but which I have been told I must never put on social media). I had a hard time deciding which photo to put on Instagram. In fact, I had such a hard time that I ended up putting one on Instagram and another on Twitter, too.
After I'd taken Baby Brother trick-or-treating, and after we'd gone to visit our grandmother, I told Baby Brother that I'd almost tagged Rob Paulsen, Yakko's voice actor, in the Twitter photo.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: He's super nice. He replies to almost everything people tag him in. But I chickened out.
BABY BROTHER: I dare you to tag him!
It seemed like a harmless enough dare...so I retweeted the photo and tagged Rob Paulsen at the top.
Less than a minute later...Rob Paulsen retweeted my photo.
Rob Paulsen retweeted a photo of my face!!! It was an exciting moment, even better than the time Muppeteer Matt Vogel retweeted one of my posts! Because Rob Paulsen is a legend! He played voices in so many shows I liked as a kid (and some I still like as an adult). Rob Paulsen is the coolest!!! And he apparently liked our costumes enough to retweet a photo of them!!! Whoa.
But that's not all! As soon as Rob Paulsen retweeted the photo, other people started to like and retweet it, too. At the moment, it has 18 retweets and 76 likes. That's pretty impressive, considering that I'm a total nobody!
BABY BROTHER: Yay! Now we're famous.
All in all, not a bad Halloween.
Little Brother and Baby Brother were Yakko and Wakko Warner, respectively. As you can probably tell from the picture above, our costumes were homemade from a variety of new and used clothing items and some craft materials.
Little Brother is often the force behind assembling group costumes, but this year, I coordinated everything. I bought most of the pieces. I made patterns for the ears. The little brothers helped me make said ears from felt and pipe cleaners. At one point, Baby Brother quoted a line from the show that seemed pertinent to our simple costumes: "Well, this is a fabulously cheap cartoon!"
I carefully bent the finished ears at the angles I deemed most correct to show off each Warner's personality. Please admire this picture of Baby Brother's Wakko hat (from the front), because I thought it turned out very well and I was especially proud of it.
 |
| We had to use a U of U baseball cap as the craft stores were all out of plain red ones. Thus the patches. |
The final touch to our costumes was a spot of red face paint on the tips of each of our noses. Voilà! We were Warners.
Sadly, I had to work today, so the rest of the family did fun things like carved pumpkins without me.
 |
| Baby Brother's Over the Garden Wall jack-o-lantern |
We took so many cute pictures. My brothers reenacteed part of the Animaniacs theme song (which I have on photo and video but which I have been told I must never put on social media). I had a hard time deciding which photo to put on Instagram. In fact, I had such a hard time that I ended up putting one on Instagram and another on Twitter, too.
After I'd taken Baby Brother trick-or-treating, and after we'd gone to visit our grandmother, I told Baby Brother that I'd almost tagged Rob Paulsen, Yakko's voice actor, in the Twitter photo.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: He's super nice. He replies to almost everything people tag him in. But I chickened out.
BABY BROTHER: I dare you to tag him!
It seemed like a harmless enough dare...so I retweeted the photo and tagged Rob Paulsen at the top.
Less than a minute later...Rob Paulsen retweeted my photo.
Rob Paulsen retweeted a photo of my face!!! It was an exciting moment, even better than the time Muppeteer Matt Vogel retweeted one of my posts! Because Rob Paulsen is a legend! He played voices in so many shows I liked as a kid (and some I still like as an adult). Rob Paulsen is the coolest!!! And he apparently liked our costumes enough to retweet a photo of them!!! Whoa.
But that's not all! As soon as Rob Paulsen retweeted the photo, other people started to like and retweet it, too. At the moment, it has 18 retweets and 76 likes. That's pretty impressive, considering that I'm a total nobody!
BABY BROTHER: Yay! Now we're famous.
All in all, not a bad Halloween.
Saturday, October 29, 2016
Haunted House Dreams
Halloween is soon, and scary times are ahead! In honor of this occasion, I wanted to tell you about tropes of my recurring haunted house dreams.
Haunted House Dream #1: I'm going on the Haunted Mansion ride at Disneyland, but it's totally different. Like it's in a long hallway with ghostly green dioramas on either side, or it's part roller coaster/water ride. Sometimes the ride breaks down. This dream isn't too bad.
Haunted House Dream #2: The Haunted Mansion ride becomes a really creepy walkthrough, and the people who are going on the ride with me keep disappearing and whatnot. Or it's mashed up with my grandmother's house, and the yard or the front stairway or the basement is now haunted with Haunted Mansion-type ghosts.
Haunted House Dream #3: This is the Other Room dream. An Other Room dream is where extra rooms appear in a place that is familiar to me in real life. Whenever I approach an Other Room in a dream, I feel a sense of foreboding. I know that going into the room is probably a bad idea. There's always something in Other Rooms that's better left alone. Sometimes there's dusty old treasures, sometimes there's evidence to a terrible crime, or sometimes they seem to be haunted by malevolent spirits. I often have dreams that there are Other Rooms in my grandmother's house (a disproportionate number of my dreams seem to take place in my grandmother's house). Also, since I moved out, I have occasionally dreamed that there is an extra hallway in my apartment full of Other Rooms. There's at least one extra bedroom and a ton of storage space in that hallway, but my roommates and I are always too afraid to make use of it.
I'm particular curious about the Other Room dream. Do other people have Other Room dreams, or is it just me? Does it mean something? I think that if it means something, it's that I am the kind of person who would survive a horror movie. When I think a place might be dangerous, I leave it well enough alone. But that's just me.
Haunted House Dream #1: I'm going on the Haunted Mansion ride at Disneyland, but it's totally different. Like it's in a long hallway with ghostly green dioramas on either side, or it's part roller coaster/water ride. Sometimes the ride breaks down. This dream isn't too bad.
Haunted House Dream #2: The Haunted Mansion ride becomes a really creepy walkthrough, and the people who are going on the ride with me keep disappearing and whatnot. Or it's mashed up with my grandmother's house, and the yard or the front stairway or the basement is now haunted with Haunted Mansion-type ghosts.
Haunted House Dream #3: This is the Other Room dream. An Other Room dream is where extra rooms appear in a place that is familiar to me in real life. Whenever I approach an Other Room in a dream, I feel a sense of foreboding. I know that going into the room is probably a bad idea. There's always something in Other Rooms that's better left alone. Sometimes there's dusty old treasures, sometimes there's evidence to a terrible crime, or sometimes they seem to be haunted by malevolent spirits. I often have dreams that there are Other Rooms in my grandmother's house (a disproportionate number of my dreams seem to take place in my grandmother's house). Also, since I moved out, I have occasionally dreamed that there is an extra hallway in my apartment full of Other Rooms. There's at least one extra bedroom and a ton of storage space in that hallway, but my roommates and I are always too afraid to make use of it.
I'm particular curious about the Other Room dream. Do other people have Other Room dreams, or is it just me? Does it mean something? I think that if it means something, it's that I am the kind of person who would survive a horror movie. When I think a place might be dangerous, I leave it well enough alone. But that's just me.
Friday, October 28, 2016
Halloween Costume Sneak Peek
I'm a little behind on the blogging this month, what with one thing and another. My offering to you tonight is not a story but a look at some of the materials I used to put together my Halloween costume.
What am I being? Feel free to guess! I'll give you a hint: it's a group costume with the little brothers.
Thursday, October 27, 2016
The Shortest Road Trip in the History of Road Trips
Over the weekend, I went on the shortest road trip in the history of road trips.
I don't mean short like, "Oh look! We drove for half an hour and now we're there!" I mean short as in we scarcely spent any time at our destination. This is because we were road tripping for one reason and one reason only: to attend my grandfather's funeral in Arizona.
We were planning to leave around 6:30 a.m. on Friday (we actually left closer to 7:30). Due to a busy week at work, I had little time to pack, and I was still tossing things into my suitcase at 6. I'd planned to tidy the apartment a little before leaving, but in the end I only had time to grab my folded laundry from the couch and place it on my bed. The idea was that Future Awkward Mormon Girl would be forced to fold the laundry before she could go to sleep on Sunday night.
My parents' Mormon Assault Vehicle recently met its demise, so we'd rented some kind of SUV that had a radio with a Bluetooth connection. We took a somewhat circuitous route that took us to Arizona, then Nevada, then Arizona again. Favorite pastimes on the long drive included:
-Singing along to the music we played through the Bluetooth
-Sleeping while leaning against one another
-Passing the Hoover Dam and making semi-inappropriate jokes.
DAD: I thought we'd be able to see the dam from here, but I guess not.
LITTLE BROTHER: Well now we can't see the dam view!
My brothers haven't been on that many road trips, and they were lapping the experience up. Little Brother called hotel breakfasts "interesting and captivating." Baby Brother was obsessed with the cacti in Arizona and took many a picture. He screeched with delight whenever he got a good shot.
It took thirteen hours, give or take, to get to Arizona. My parents went to pick up Older Sister, who was flying in from New York, while the little sisters and I practiced a musical number for the funeral with our cousins.
The next day was the funeral itself. Because all of my grandpa's descendants are LDS (or were raised LDS, even if they aren't active right now), and because the only non-LDS people we were expecting were my grandpa's brother and his family, my uncle arranged an LDS-style funeral. My grandpa was adamant that the funeral not be held in a church, so it took place in the funeral home, but apart from that it was very like my mom's dad's funeral a few years ago. We sang religious songs. My dad dedicated the grave in a religious ceremony. The biggest difference was that Grandpa served in the military, so there was a flag and some military representatives at the grave site.
After the funeral, the members of my grandma's ward served us lunch at their meetinghouse. Grandma had the food catered from a Mexican food place nearby. I'm not a huge fan of Mexican food, but this food was quite good. There were tons of desserts to follow, including lemon meringue pie, Grandpa's favorite.
We were at the church building for about three hours, visiting with family members. When our time in the cultural hall was up, our conversations spilled into the hallways and into the foyers. We were sad because we missed Grandpa, but we were happy to be spending time together. It had been a while since my dad and his siblings and all 23 of the Obnoxious cousins got together. Happily, every single one of them was able to make it to the funeral. The time we spent together that afternoon still wasn't enough, and several of us got together that night for dinner at Buca di Beppo.
"Are we celebrating something?" the waitress asked brightly, and there was an awkward silence as we tried to figure out how to respond.
The next day, my family got back into the car and went back to Utah (except for Older Sister, who took a very early flight back to New York). Pastimes of the way home included:
-More sleeping
-More singing
-Thai dancing (Little Brother taught us some dance moves in the parking lot of a gas station. People driving by stared at us.)
-Poetry
Baby Brother started declaiming dramatic poetry. It went as follows:
In the 11th hour when the chickens are dying, and the roller coasters are being closed for...repairs.
As the pudding goes down the esophagus, the chocolate being regurgitated into the depths and darkness of the soul.
As the screams are echoing down the hall...lunchtime in the junior high cafeteria.
The frog lays the eggs, and then they hatch. Are they are a frog? No. They are a tadpole.
The crunch of a spoon and the ding of a chomp.
The crocodile swims to the adoption center and adopts a crocodile but fails. The crocodile dies, both of them, and their skeletons remain while the fish eat them because the fish are piranhas and they have sharp teeth.
By the time Baby Brother stopped gracing us with these masterpieces, we were nearly home. We pulled into the parents' driveway about 12 hours after leaving Arizona.
When I got back to my apartment, I was hungry and very tired. I ate my dinner and went to my room...and discovered all of the laundry that Past Awkward Mormon Girl had left on my bed for me to put away.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Worst idea ever!
I don't mean short like, "Oh look! We drove for half an hour and now we're there!" I mean short as in we scarcely spent any time at our destination. This is because we were road tripping for one reason and one reason only: to attend my grandfather's funeral in Arizona.
We were planning to leave around 6:30 a.m. on Friday (we actually left closer to 7:30). Due to a busy week at work, I had little time to pack, and I was still tossing things into my suitcase at 6. I'd planned to tidy the apartment a little before leaving, but in the end I only had time to grab my folded laundry from the couch and place it on my bed. The idea was that Future Awkward Mormon Girl would be forced to fold the laundry before she could go to sleep on Sunday night.
My parents' Mormon Assault Vehicle recently met its demise, so we'd rented some kind of SUV that had a radio with a Bluetooth connection. We took a somewhat circuitous route that took us to Arizona, then Nevada, then Arizona again. Favorite pastimes on the long drive included:
-Singing along to the music we played through the Bluetooth
-Sleeping while leaning against one another
-Passing the Hoover Dam and making semi-inappropriate jokes.
DAD: I thought we'd be able to see the dam from here, but I guess not.
LITTLE BROTHER: Well now we can't see the dam view!
My brothers haven't been on that many road trips, and they were lapping the experience up. Little Brother called hotel breakfasts "interesting and captivating." Baby Brother was obsessed with the cacti in Arizona and took many a picture. He screeched with delight whenever he got a good shot.
It took thirteen hours, give or take, to get to Arizona. My parents went to pick up Older Sister, who was flying in from New York, while the little sisters and I practiced a musical number for the funeral with our cousins.
The next day was the funeral itself. Because all of my grandpa's descendants are LDS (or were raised LDS, even if they aren't active right now), and because the only non-LDS people we were expecting were my grandpa's brother and his family, my uncle arranged an LDS-style funeral. My grandpa was adamant that the funeral not be held in a church, so it took place in the funeral home, but apart from that it was very like my mom's dad's funeral a few years ago. We sang religious songs. My dad dedicated the grave in a religious ceremony. The biggest difference was that Grandpa served in the military, so there was a flag and some military representatives at the grave site.
After the funeral, the members of my grandma's ward served us lunch at their meetinghouse. Grandma had the food catered from a Mexican food place nearby. I'm not a huge fan of Mexican food, but this food was quite good. There were tons of desserts to follow, including lemon meringue pie, Grandpa's favorite.
We were at the church building for about three hours, visiting with family members. When our time in the cultural hall was up, our conversations spilled into the hallways and into the foyers. We were sad because we missed Grandpa, but we were happy to be spending time together. It had been a while since my dad and his siblings and all 23 of the Obnoxious cousins got together. Happily, every single one of them was able to make it to the funeral. The time we spent together that afternoon still wasn't enough, and several of us got together that night for dinner at Buca di Beppo.
"Are we celebrating something?" the waitress asked brightly, and there was an awkward silence as we tried to figure out how to respond.
The next day, my family got back into the car and went back to Utah (except for Older Sister, who took a very early flight back to New York). Pastimes of the way home included:
-More sleeping
-More singing
-Thai dancing (Little Brother taught us some dance moves in the parking lot of a gas station. People driving by stared at us.)
-Poetry
Baby Brother started declaiming dramatic poetry. It went as follows:
In the 11th hour when the chickens are dying, and the roller coasters are being closed for...repairs.
As the pudding goes down the esophagus, the chocolate being regurgitated into the depths and darkness of the soul.
As the screams are echoing down the hall...lunchtime in the junior high cafeteria.
The frog lays the eggs, and then they hatch. Are they are a frog? No. They are a tadpole.
The crunch of a spoon and the ding of a chomp.
The crocodile swims to the adoption center and adopts a crocodile but fails. The crocodile dies, both of them, and their skeletons remain while the fish eat them because the fish are piranhas and they have sharp teeth.
By the time Baby Brother stopped gracing us with these masterpieces, we were nearly home. We pulled into the parents' driveway about 12 hours after leaving Arizona.
When I got back to my apartment, I was hungry and very tired. I ate my dinner and went to my room...and discovered all of the laundry that Past Awkward Mormon Girl had left on my bed for me to put away.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Worst idea ever!
Wednesday, October 26, 2016
Goodreads Update
A year ago, I started using Goodreads in earnest.
Since then, I've added all the books on my shelf, more than half the books in my parents' house, and as many books as I can remember from my own brain to my Read list. At the moment, the total is 1,432. Not bad.
Since then, I've added all the books on my shelf, more than half the books in my parents' house, and as many books as I can remember from my own brain to my Read list. At the moment, the total is 1,432. Not bad.
Tuesday, October 25, 2016
In Which I Gain Another Mother
It's catching up to me.
My penchant for over-scheduling, that is. It's catching up. Nay, it's caught up, and it's keeping apace of me.
Since I moved out, there have been four times where, instead of buying groceries and then cooking my own food, I have spent the week's grocery money on a large quantity of food at a Chinese or Indian restaurant, which I then eat all week long.
The first time was a year ago. The other three times...have all been in the last two months.
I'm working on making time to do normal things like cooking and grocery shopping, I swear. Things are working out so that hopefully I can actually have free time. As soon as next month, I expect to be able to do things like write stories, bake blueberry muffins, clean my room and the apartment shower, and put all of my photos from 2015 on Facebook. You know. The good stuff. But I'm not there yet, so yesterday after work I went to Hometown's second-best Chinese restaurant.
I am a frequent visitor at Hometown's second-best Chinese restaurant. The manager knows me on sight although (as I think I've mentioned before) Etch-a-Sketch and I bear a passing resemblance that confuses some. Etch-a-Sketch used to go to this restaurant with Best Friend Boy fairly often, then she and I started going there together occasionally, and Best Friend Boy and I went there together shortly after he got home from his mission. This has caused the manager to seemingly mix up me and Etch-a-Sketch somewhat. No matter, though—whether he thinks I'm me or whether he thinks I'm Etch-a-Sketch, he's always happy to see me and greets me warmly.
He was the one who took my takeout order yesterday. First I ordered a sweet and sour pork combo, a dish I often get there because it's delicious not as expensive as my favorite dish. The manager knows that I often order the pork, so he didn't seem surprised, but when I also ordered a combo with lemon chicken he jokingly said, "Who's that for?"
"Me," I said.
He seemed taken aback.
"I don't have time to cook this week," I explained, "so I'm buying food instead."
"Are you sure you don't just want to come back tomorrow?" he said doubtfully.
I said it was all right, and then I also ordered a strawberry chicken combo.
"Who's that one for?"
"Also me," I said. I felt like I might be blushing. He just seemed so concerned that it was making me feel embarrassed.
Doubtfully, the manager rang me up. He asked if he could at least put the sauce on the side so that the food wouldn't get soggy. I told him that was fine, and I paid for my meal. When I got my change back, I noticed that I'd been given a small discount.
As I was waiting for my food, the manager approached me again to ask if I was sure I wanted all that food.
"Have you done this before?" he asked.
I told him I had. I assured him that I had some vegetables at home to eat with the food, and that I'd be all right. Seeming mollified, he headed to the kitchen.
A minute later, he came out with a styrofoam box. He flipped up the lid and showed me the contents.
"Steamed vegetables," he said.
"Yes," I said, unsure of what was going on.
He told me that he was going to put the vegetables with my order, if that was okay. I thanked him, a little amused and completely astounded.
When my order was up, I noticed an extra takeout container in the bag. Sure enough, when I got home, I found not only strawberry sauce and steamed vegetables on the side, but also extra fried rice.
I was charmed. I had been, dare I say it, mothered to death, and it had been adorable. I'm a big girl who can take care of herself, but it's from time to time it's nice to have someone unexpectedly look out for me.
On the other hand, my days of living off Chinese takeout are apparently over. I can never order three dishes from Hometown's second-best Chinese restaurant again if it's going to grieve the manager so. Next week, I'm going to have to start cooking again like a real adult.
My penchant for over-scheduling, that is. It's catching up. Nay, it's caught up, and it's keeping apace of me.
Since I moved out, there have been four times where, instead of buying groceries and then cooking my own food, I have spent the week's grocery money on a large quantity of food at a Chinese or Indian restaurant, which I then eat all week long.
The first time was a year ago. The other three times...have all been in the last two months.
I'm working on making time to do normal things like cooking and grocery shopping, I swear. Things are working out so that hopefully I can actually have free time. As soon as next month, I expect to be able to do things like write stories, bake blueberry muffins, clean my room and the apartment shower, and put all of my photos from 2015 on Facebook. You know. The good stuff. But I'm not there yet, so yesterday after work I went to Hometown's second-best Chinese restaurant.
I am a frequent visitor at Hometown's second-best Chinese restaurant. The manager knows me on sight although (as I think I've mentioned before) Etch-a-Sketch and I bear a passing resemblance that confuses some. Etch-a-Sketch used to go to this restaurant with Best Friend Boy fairly often, then she and I started going there together occasionally, and Best Friend Boy and I went there together shortly after he got home from his mission. This has caused the manager to seemingly mix up me and Etch-a-Sketch somewhat. No matter, though—whether he thinks I'm me or whether he thinks I'm Etch-a-Sketch, he's always happy to see me and greets me warmly.
He was the one who took my takeout order yesterday. First I ordered a sweet and sour pork combo, a dish I often get there because it's delicious not as expensive as my favorite dish. The manager knows that I often order the pork, so he didn't seem surprised, but when I also ordered a combo with lemon chicken he jokingly said, "Who's that for?"
"Me," I said.
He seemed taken aback.
"I don't have time to cook this week," I explained, "so I'm buying food instead."
"Are you sure you don't just want to come back tomorrow?" he said doubtfully.
I said it was all right, and then I also ordered a strawberry chicken combo.
"Who's that one for?"
"Also me," I said. I felt like I might be blushing. He just seemed so concerned that it was making me feel embarrassed.
Doubtfully, the manager rang me up. He asked if he could at least put the sauce on the side so that the food wouldn't get soggy. I told him that was fine, and I paid for my meal. When I got my change back, I noticed that I'd been given a small discount.
As I was waiting for my food, the manager approached me again to ask if I was sure I wanted all that food.
"Have you done this before?" he asked.
I told him I had. I assured him that I had some vegetables at home to eat with the food, and that I'd be all right. Seeming mollified, he headed to the kitchen.
A minute later, he came out with a styrofoam box. He flipped up the lid and showed me the contents.
"Steamed vegetables," he said.
"Yes," I said, unsure of what was going on.
He told me that he was going to put the vegetables with my order, if that was okay. I thanked him, a little amused and completely astounded.
When my order was up, I noticed an extra takeout container in the bag. Sure enough, when I got home, I found not only strawberry sauce and steamed vegetables on the side, but also extra fried rice.
I was charmed. I had been, dare I say it, mothered to death, and it had been adorable. I'm a big girl who can take care of herself, but it's from time to time it's nice to have someone unexpectedly look out for me.
On the other hand, my days of living off Chinese takeout are apparently over. I can never order three dishes from Hometown's second-best Chinese restaurant again if it's going to grieve the manager so. Next week, I'm going to have to start cooking again like a real adult.
Tuesday, October 18, 2016
Margherita Grilled Cheese Sandwich
All right. Let's talk about something happy. Let's talk about sandwiches!
A few weeks ago, I had an idea: what if I made a margherita pizza? But what if that pizza wasn't a pizza, but a sandwich? A grilled cheese sandwich?
Yeeees. Best idea ever! I mean, probably somebody, somewhere, thought of doing that before. But as I had never heard of anyone doing it, I found it to be a new and original concept.
When it comes to Awkward Mormon Girl's margherita grilled cheese sandwiches, here's how you do:
1. Obtain two slices of white bread, two or three slices of mozzarella (the fresher the better), one or two slices of tomato, about ten leaves of fresh basil, some butter that has been softened at room temperature, and salt and pepper (if desired).
2. Butter one slice of bread. Place it butter-side down on a pan and place the cheese, tomato, basil, salt, and pepper on top.
3. Put the pan in the over and broil this slice of bread at a medium-to-low setting for two, maybe three, minutes. You want the cheese to be a little melted and the basil to be slightly wilted, but you don't want the edges of the bread to burn.
4. Remove the pan from the oven.
5. Use a spatula to transfer the bread from the pan to a frying pan or griddle or whatever you prefer to use for grilled cheese sandwiches. Turn on the heat. The butter on the bottom of the bread should be melted, so all you need to do is keep it grilling until the bottom is golden brown.
6. While the bread is grilling, butter the other slice of bread and place it butter side up on top of the other, cheese-and-tomato-and-basil-covered slice. Now it's a real sandwich!
7. When the bottom slice is golden brown, use the spatula to flip the sandwich.
8. Wait for the slice that used to be on the top but now is on the bottom to become golden brown.
9. Enjoy!
A few weeks ago, I had an idea: what if I made a margherita pizza? But what if that pizza wasn't a pizza, but a sandwich? A grilled cheese sandwich?
Yeeees. Best idea ever! I mean, probably somebody, somewhere, thought of doing that before. But as I had never heard of anyone doing it, I found it to be a new and original concept.
When it comes to Awkward Mormon Girl's margherita grilled cheese sandwiches, here's how you do:
1. Obtain two slices of white bread, two or three slices of mozzarella (the fresher the better), one or two slices of tomato, about ten leaves of fresh basil, some butter that has been softened at room temperature, and salt and pepper (if desired).
2. Butter one slice of bread. Place it butter-side down on a pan and place the cheese, tomato, basil, salt, and pepper on top.
3. Put the pan in the over and broil this slice of bread at a medium-to-low setting for two, maybe three, minutes. You want the cheese to be a little melted and the basil to be slightly wilted, but you don't want the edges of the bread to burn.
5. Use a spatula to transfer the bread from the pan to a frying pan or griddle or whatever you prefer to use for grilled cheese sandwiches. Turn on the heat. The butter on the bottom of the bread should be melted, so all you need to do is keep it grilling until the bottom is golden brown.
6. While the bread is grilling, butter the other slice of bread and place it butter side up on top of the other, cheese-and-tomato-and-basil-covered slice. Now it's a real sandwich!
7. When the bottom slice is golden brown, use the spatula to flip the sandwich.
8. Wait for the slice that used to be on the top but now is on the bottom to become golden brown.
9. Enjoy!
Monday, October 17, 2016
I Don't Have the Words
My grandpa died the way radioactive isotopes decay: in half lives.
A month ago, they said he would live a few more months. A week ago, they said he would live a few more weeks. On Monday it was one week. On Tuesday it was 48 hours.
He passed away on Tuesday night.
He brought me books, my grandpa. Baby-Sitters Club books and most of Road Dahl's works; my first copy of The Hobbit and a second-edition copy of The Silmarillion; even Tennis Shoes Among the Nephites. He would never have read the Tennis Shoes books himself because he wasn't LDS or even religious. Still he found copies on his many trips to used book stores, and what he found, he brought to us.
There other books: my books. He was always asking to see the stories I wrote. A few years ago, I gave him my only hard copy of a manuscript I was trying to publish. He said it wasn't "his type" of story and he didn't get very far, so I expected to get it back soon. Instead Grandpa, apparently praising the manuscript that he hadn't read, passed it on to my uncle, who read it and liked it and gave to my aunt. My aunt loved it and gave it to my cousin and his wife. Last I heard, it was with another aunt and uncle in Texas. I'm thinking I won't get it back.
There were other things, like the trips to McDonald's and the collection of canes and the inexplicable love of UNR. There was a lot, most of which I couldn't accurately explain without pages and pages at my disposal.
Then he died. Death doesn't scare LDS people the way it does some. We have a pretty good understanding of what's on the other side. Uniquely, we believe that people can still progress even after death. We believe that those who get to the afterlife and wish they could change still can. But we also believe that people are much the same in death as they are in life and that not even the experience of returning to God will have much effect on some.
I don't know if my grandpa will choose to progress or not. The uncertainty of not knowing has weighed on me these past days. But what I do know is that things work out. It's not always a terribly comforting piece of knowledge, no. But it's true, nonetheless.
A month ago, they said he would live a few more months. A week ago, they said he would live a few more weeks. On Monday it was one week. On Tuesday it was 48 hours.
He passed away on Tuesday night.
He brought me books, my grandpa. Baby-Sitters Club books and most of Road Dahl's works; my first copy of The Hobbit and a second-edition copy of The Silmarillion; even Tennis Shoes Among the Nephites. He would never have read the Tennis Shoes books himself because he wasn't LDS or even religious. Still he found copies on his many trips to used book stores, and what he found, he brought to us.
There other books: my books. He was always asking to see the stories I wrote. A few years ago, I gave him my only hard copy of a manuscript I was trying to publish. He said it wasn't "his type" of story and he didn't get very far, so I expected to get it back soon. Instead Grandpa, apparently praising the manuscript that he hadn't read, passed it on to my uncle, who read it and liked it and gave to my aunt. My aunt loved it and gave it to my cousin and his wife. Last I heard, it was with another aunt and uncle in Texas. I'm thinking I won't get it back.
There were other things, like the trips to McDonald's and the collection of canes and the inexplicable love of UNR. There was a lot, most of which I couldn't accurately explain without pages and pages at my disposal.
Then he died. Death doesn't scare LDS people the way it does some. We have a pretty good understanding of what's on the other side. Uniquely, we believe that people can still progress even after death. We believe that those who get to the afterlife and wish they could change still can. But we also believe that people are much the same in death as they are in life and that not even the experience of returning to God will have much effect on some.
I don't know if my grandpa will choose to progress or not. The uncertainty of not knowing has weighed on me these past days. But what I do know is that things work out. It's not always a terribly comforting piece of knowledge, no. But it's true, nonetheless.
Monday, October 10, 2016
Texting (or Lack Thereof)
Some days, my life is like this:
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (gets text that says "How are you doing?)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (reads text)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (drives to work)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (turns off phone)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (works all day)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (turns on phone)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (reads text again)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (drives home)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (eats dinner)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (browses on phone)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (goes out)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (comes home)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (gets ready for bed)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (reads text again)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (goes to sleep)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (sleeps)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (wakes up)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (reads text again)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (drives to work)
And so on and so forth, ad nauseum
THREE DAYS LATER
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (responds to text) Not bad. How are you?
This has particularly been true of the last year or so. Maybe it's because I now have a smartphone, so I no longer pick up my phone only for communication purposes. I also have a tendency to get texts that I need to think about before I reply, and I think about it so long that I forget I never actually responded to the message or that the message even exists at all. Stuff like that.
It's usually not that I'm ignoring people or that I don't like them, I swear. I just have gotten terrible at the phone thing.
Of course, the ironic thing is that I might do that, but if someone doesn't text me back within a reasonable amount of time I become convinced that they hate me. Is it just me, or is there something about texting that makes the ego particularly fragile?
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (gets text that says "How are you doing?)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (reads text)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (drives to work)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (turns off phone)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (works all day)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (turns on phone)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (reads text again)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (drives home)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (eats dinner)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (browses on phone)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (goes out)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (comes home)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (gets ready for bed)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (reads text again)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (goes to sleep)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (sleeps)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (wakes up)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (reads text again)
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (drives to work)
And so on and so forth, ad nauseum
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (responds to text) Not bad. How are you?
This has particularly been true of the last year or so. Maybe it's because I now have a smartphone, so I no longer pick up my phone only for communication purposes. I also have a tendency to get texts that I need to think about before I reply, and I think about it so long that I forget I never actually responded to the message or that the message even exists at all. Stuff like that.
It's usually not that I'm ignoring people or that I don't like them, I swear. I just have gotten terrible at the phone thing.
Of course, the ironic thing is that I might do that, but if someone doesn't text me back within a reasonable amount of time I become convinced that they hate me. Is it just me, or is there something about texting that makes the ego particularly fragile?
Tuesday, October 4, 2016
Conference, In General
Over the last two weekends, we LDS folk had general conference.
We have church every Sunday and other kinds of meetings all year long, but general conference marks the two times a year when everyone in the world tunes in to hear directly from our leaders.
We believe that God still speaks to man, that revelation didn't cease after the New Testament. We believe in living prophets and apostles. It makes sense, then, that we would set aside time to hear what they have to say.
There are around twelve hours of general conference. On the last Saturday in September, there's a two-hour block (that usually actually lasts around an hour and a half) dedicated to women. My sisters and I often watch it together.
Then, on the first weekend in October, we have the other sessions. On Saturday, there are two two-hour blocks, one at 10 a.m. and one at 2 p.m., and then another block at 6 p.m. The 6 p.m. block is aimed towards the men who have been ordained to priesthood offices. Like the women's session, it tends to run a little short.
The next day, Sunday, we have two more two-hour blocks, again at 10 a.m. and at 2 p.m.
My family usually watches general conference by broadcast from our own home. We snuggle up on the couch, take notes, and eat treats while we watch. However, lots of people watch broadcasts at their church buildings, and those who were given tickets to do so can watch in the conference center itself. (Tickets are free, but there is limited space in the building, so not everyone who wants a ticket can get one.)
There are often religious or political protestors standing outside the conference center. The city has worked with the church to create "free speech zones" around the conference center. Anyone who has something to say to the people coming and going has to be in one of these zones. I have at least once noticed a non-LDS Facebook friend criticize these zones for being a violation of free speech. I wondered if she'd ever seen the protestors at LDS events. Some are very polite and respectful, but there are also some who scream vulgar things, wave graphic signs, and destroy artifacts important to our religion before our eyes. The free speech zone is a good community compromise between free speech and religious freedom, in my opinion, because it allows people to say what's on their minds but makes it possible for those who don't wish to listen to simply leave and avoid potential harassment. You also might be interested to learn that it's not just protestors who have to stay in the free speech zones: I've gone with church-sanctioned groups to sing hymns on the sidewalk during general conference, and church security guards instructed us to stay within the zones. It goes both ways.
Whether I'm in the conference center or at home, I'm always enlightened and uplifted by the words that are spoken in the conference. We're counseled to come with questions in our minds and in our hearts, questions that we've prayed and pondered about. I usually bring some pretty weird questions with me. I'm surprised by how often I receive answers to fit them.
We have church every Sunday and other kinds of meetings all year long, but general conference marks the two times a year when everyone in the world tunes in to hear directly from our leaders.
We believe that God still speaks to man, that revelation didn't cease after the New Testament. We believe in living prophets and apostles. It makes sense, then, that we would set aside time to hear what they have to say.
There are around twelve hours of general conference. On the last Saturday in September, there's a two-hour block (that usually actually lasts around an hour and a half) dedicated to women. My sisters and I often watch it together.
Then, on the first weekend in October, we have the other sessions. On Saturday, there are two two-hour blocks, one at 10 a.m. and one at 2 p.m., and then another block at 6 p.m. The 6 p.m. block is aimed towards the men who have been ordained to priesthood offices. Like the women's session, it tends to run a little short.
The next day, Sunday, we have two more two-hour blocks, again at 10 a.m. and at 2 p.m.
My family usually watches general conference by broadcast from our own home. We snuggle up on the couch, take notes, and eat treats while we watch. However, lots of people watch broadcasts at their church buildings, and those who were given tickets to do so can watch in the conference center itself. (Tickets are free, but there is limited space in the building, so not everyone who wants a ticket can get one.)
There are often religious or political protestors standing outside the conference center. The city has worked with the church to create "free speech zones" around the conference center. Anyone who has something to say to the people coming and going has to be in one of these zones. I have at least once noticed a non-LDS Facebook friend criticize these zones for being a violation of free speech. I wondered if she'd ever seen the protestors at LDS events. Some are very polite and respectful, but there are also some who scream vulgar things, wave graphic signs, and destroy artifacts important to our religion before our eyes. The free speech zone is a good community compromise between free speech and religious freedom, in my opinion, because it allows people to say what's on their minds but makes it possible for those who don't wish to listen to simply leave and avoid potential harassment. You also might be interested to learn that it's not just protestors who have to stay in the free speech zones: I've gone with church-sanctioned groups to sing hymns on the sidewalk during general conference, and church security guards instructed us to stay within the zones. It goes both ways.
Whether I'm in the conference center or at home, I'm always enlightened and uplifted by the words that are spoken in the conference. We're counseled to come with questions in our minds and in our hearts, questions that we've prayed and pondered about. I usually bring some pretty weird questions with me. I'm surprised by how often I receive answers to fit them.
Friday, September 30, 2016
Lip Sync Caroling
I had a lovely story ready to tell today, but alas, instead of writing it up I sat at the kitchen counter, reading a fantasy novel while eating pumpkin spice truffles.
I struggle with pacing these days. I live at the speed of light, with no time penciled in for relaxing or cleaning or eating or sleeping. My weekends are set aside for doing all the things I can't do during the week. Once it arrives, however, I find myself profoundly exhausted, and I crash and burn.
So I won't be telling you a story tonight. I will, however, tell you that Baby Sister and Little Brother showed up at my place tonight, wearing newsie-style caps. They knocked on my apartment door and, when I opened it, started to perform a lip sync and a well-choreographed dance to the Backyardigans theme.
"We're lip sync caroling," they explained after their performance. They then got back in their car and drove away in search of their next audience.
Sometimes my life astounds me.
I struggle with pacing these days. I live at the speed of light, with no time penciled in for relaxing or cleaning or eating or sleeping. My weekends are set aside for doing all the things I can't do during the week. Once it arrives, however, I find myself profoundly exhausted, and I crash and burn.
So I won't be telling you a story tonight. I will, however, tell you that Baby Sister and Little Brother showed up at my place tonight, wearing newsie-style caps. They knocked on my apartment door and, when I opened it, started to perform a lip sync and a well-choreographed dance to the Backyardigans theme.
"We're lip sync caroling," they explained after their performance. They then got back in their car and drove away in search of their next audience.
Sometimes my life astounds me.
Thursday, September 29, 2016
My Seventh Stitch Fix Experience
Well folks, it's that time again.
What time, you ask?
The time where I demand that a stranger in California find clothes for me instead of finding them for myself like an actual adult!
Leading up to scheduling this Fix, I was ransacking the Internet for pictures of pretty clothes in pretty fall colors. Last year, Jessica V sent me three navy blue items for my fall Fix. I love navy blue...a lot...but I was hoping to get a wider variety of colors. Particularly red. It ain't autumn without some red. I pinned all sorts of gorgeous things to my Pinterest board to give Jessica V some guidance.
In my note, I said that I was looking for cute fall clothes. Dresses and shirts and skirts, maybe jewelry...probably not pants.
My Fix came on a Wednesday. Here's what Miss Jessica V said this time:
Hey Awkward Mormon Girl! Cute fall clothes are coming your way! I thought the Collective Concepts blouse was a cute piece similar to styles you have pinned so far. Plus this piece is going to mix well with previous pieces. Try this top with the Le Lis Skirt, I went with an XS in this skirt again since skirt sizes seem to fit you better in an XS.
Which has been consistently true in my Stitch Fix experience, but which is very odd because I don't think I've ever bought an extra small skirt when shopping for myself.
How fun is the Le Lis dress?! Great piece for upcoming fall events, such as a pumpkin patch outing with friends. Pair this dress with tall brown boots and maybe even throw on the Market & Spruce cardigan for a Zoey Deschanel inspired look-- I love her quirky but chic outfits. The Market & Spruce pullover is so cozy, I think this piece would be great with black ponte pants or even paired with the Le Lis skirt. I hope you had a great time in New York, and cheers to a cozy fall! Xo Jessica V
Back to the Xo. I have to say that I've missed it.
Collective Concepts Sayer Ruffle Detail Blouse: It's hard to see in this picture, but this blouse is a really pretty teal color. I immediately liked the style, and it was very flattering when I tried it on. And...
Le Lis Serena Belted Flare Skirt: This is a longer skirt of thicker material in a pretty burgundy color. I put it with the blouse as suggested, and voilà! A super cute outfit in gorgeous fall colors. Verdict (for both): Keep.
Market & Spruce Chuckie Textured Stripe Pullover: How pale am I? Very, very pale. Does gray go with my coloring? No, no it does not, unless I wear the right makeup. This pullover is also a lot looser than I normally wear. However, it's super comfortable, and the looser sweater I bought last year from Stitch Fix is now one of my favorite sweaters, so it seemed worth the gamble. Verdict: Keep,
Le Lis Cambrie Knit Dress: I tried on the dress and, well, it was super elegant and well-fitting and pretty. I then tried it with the cardigan, as seen below. I was a little surprised at Jessica V's suggestion to wear it to a pumpkin patch, though. I could definitely see wearing a dress and a cardigan and boots to a pumpkin patch...just not this style of dress. Unless I was, like, doing engagement photos in said pumpkin patch. Verdict: Keep.
Market & Spruce Bri Knit Cardigan: I liked the look of this cardigan. It was a very pretty color, similar to the blouse's color but a little lighter. It did look super great with the dress. If I'd seen it sitting in a store alone, I might not have bought it, but as a companion piece to the dress and other items I already have, it seemed like a good investment. Verdict: Keep.
Once more, I had such a satisfactory Fix that I bought all five items.
Now, you've heard it before: if you decide to try Stitch Fix, please use this link. I will get referral credit. But (and here's the exciting part) Stitch Fix recently started a line for guys. So men, you could use my referral link if you wanted! You too could have a stylist of your very own. I don't know if the guy stylists are other guys or what, but if not, and if you think that Jessica V's a stylin' person, maybe she could be your stylist, too.
Once more, I had such a satisfactory Fix that I bought all five items.
Now, you've heard it before: if you decide to try Stitch Fix, please use this link. I will get referral credit. But (and here's the exciting part) Stitch Fix recently started a line for guys. So men, you could use my referral link if you wanted! You too could have a stylist of your very own. I don't know if the guy stylists are other guys or what, but if not, and if you think that Jessica V's a stylin' person, maybe she could be your stylist, too.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)