SOME MATERIAL MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN

Who knew using the word "crap" would take me from a G to a PG rating? I will have to be more careful from now on.

Genealogy, I am doing it! My genealogy...

Did you know they changed the words to that song to be “Family History – I am doing it”…? I wonder why. Is genealogy too big a word for primary kids? That can’t be it, the next line has the word “progenitor” in it.

Last night I went up to the Durham cabin in Midway to have dinner with my family. I took some of the old photo albums we keep up there with me because for a long time I’ve wanted to scan the taped and torn photographs and touch them up with my Photoshop skills.

This is Grandpa Durham at the University of Iowa. Before and after my touch-ups. Sometimes I can’t believe how much he looks like my dad. And Carter kind of.

I got a little sloppy with the shading on his face. If I were an artist I probably could have done a better job. But if you click on both of them up close, you'll see I got rid of a lot of spots and scratches.

I love reading about my Grandpa and his family. It makes me want to strive to do more with my life because they’re all so accomplished.

Grandpa was one of five brothers. Below is a picture of Great Grandpa George and all his sons in 1941 behind the State Capitol where Great Grandpa George worked for awhile. I'm not sure what he did up there. I think he was a representative (that sounds like something I should know for sure, doesn't it). My Grandpa is only 24 years old in this picture.

From left to right: The one on the far left is Grandpa’s dad, George H. Durham. And then there’s G. Homer, Wilby, Lowell M. (that’s Grandpa), L. Marsden and Wayne.

I'll touch that one up later. This scrapbook of Grandpa’s (my mom actually put it together) is amazing. It has pages of letters to and from my Grandpa on his mission, letters from apostles and the First Presidency thanking him for the compositions he wrote for missionary conferences and other meetings, and of course, some great pictures.

I’m really proud of my Grandpa. He died when I was 14. He actually stayed at our house when I was much younger for a couple weeks when he was really sick. I would bring him Cokes and he would call me “Beautiful.” But what I remember most about him was when we first moved to our house in Sandy (I was probably 7 years old) he took us all to Hardees and some clown there made him a balloon hat, which he wore the whole time while we ate. I thought that a silly thing for my refined and sophisticated Grandfather to do. But I loved him for it.

This picture is of Marsden, my grandpa’s little brother. Marsden served in World War II after his mission and was wounded in 1945. Later that year he died in Hawaii. My dad says my grandpa never really got over his death. It's funny how when someone dies at a fairly young age, much lore develops about them and their life. All the stories about Marsden color him as a saint, too good for this world. I won't bore you with the stories though.

I was surprised and a little disturbed to find a lock of his hair taped to the back of the photograph. My mom said back in the day everyone kept relics like that. I just feel like there was a better place they could have kept it. I mean, I have his DNA right here.

Marsden attended Harvard. Last year when I traveled to Boston I went inside the chapel on the Harvard campus to find his name. Shoot. I have a picture of it, but not on this computer apparently. Maybe I deleted it. Anyway, they have a whole wall in the chapel dedicated to Harvard students who died in the war. Under 1945 it lists Lucius Marsden Durham.

This is probably uninteresting to most of you to say the least, but I love looking at old pictures of my family. And I’m excited to fix up all these photographs, make a digital archive and print copies for myself to keep.

Happy U.S. Open Dad!

Well, it was a happy Father’s Day yesterday. I went to my parents’ house along with my brother, his wife and their three girls and my sister, her husband and their little boy.

When it was time to eat we all gathered in the kitchen. We seem to have a lot of these celebration days when Mom spends most of the day preparing an abundance of food and fun for the rest of the family (for a related story, read my post about Mother’s Day here).

So we had a beautiful Father’s Day meal of barbecue pork sandwiches, fruit, salad, and chips. The only thing missing was Father.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked.
“Oh,” my mom began to explain, “Our Father's Day present to Dad is to let him receive us today at his leisure – which will probably be when the U.S. Open breaks for commercial.”

So we all sat in the dining room eating and Dad would occasionally pass through to get more food from the kitchen and we would exchange a few seconds of pleasantries.

“Hey everyone!”
“Hi Dad! How’s the golf Dad?”
“Great, thanks for comin!”
“Good. Our gift to you.”

When he was ready to receive us, we were all on the porch eating butterscotch pie. My dad asked my two-year-old niece Piper if she wanted him to read a story. As always, her answer was, “Yeah.”

And this is what he came up with.


On a more serious note, I will say some nice things about my dad. This story makes it sound as though he's not really around, but I had the fortune of having a college professor for a dad, so his schedule was the same as mine growing up. We would leave for school at the same time and he was usually home when I got home. My dad was around a lot. And he also got summers off like I did.

One of my favorite things about Dad is that every summer he made it a point to take the family on vacation. Vacations were great because most of the year we were very frugal with everything, but when we were on vacation we were free to eat whatever we wanted and buy whatever we wanted (within reason of course).

He took us to the Shakespearean Festival in Cedar City just about every year since I can remember, and then San Diego most years. He's taken us on road trips to Monterey, San Francisco, Oregon, Canada and South Dakota. We also were fortunate enough to spend two months in London as a family when he taught school there. As I got older, he would take me on his little business trips to Boston, New York, Chicago, Minneapolis and Toronto. Dad's great to travel with.

Thanks Dad for instilling an importance of not only education and family, but travel as well. It's an expensive importance, but like you said, "It's an investment in yourself."

Bye Kaila

After about two years living with Kaila she has decided to move on and get her own place. I'm proud of her for trying something new, but I will definitely miss her on Apricot.

Kaila left us without a television, kitchen table, couch, plates, microwave and silverware. I knew I was going to miss Kaila when she said she was leaving but I didn't think about all her possessions that would choose to go with her as well.

The night Kaila left I made myself some dinner in the kitchen. As I remained standing to eat my salad in a mixing bowl with a plastic spoon I looked at Baby Laura and Baby Maria on the wall and they looked lonely as well.

I may have to plan a coming out party for our house. I will dress it up really pretty to attract new suitors. But in the meantime, if you know of a girl who wants to hang her baby picture next to ours, please let me know!

Vegas 07

I attended my second Americans for the Arts Convention over the weekend. There were maybe two really good sessions that I went to. Not bad. It’s a 3-day conference with sessions from 10-5 and then evening social events if you so choose. I chose not. I don’t know why. I think if I hadn’t had friends there with me I would have been more inclined to try and meet new people and network, but eh. I thought back to the convention 2 years ago in Austin and I went to all the receptions and stuff and it wasn’t anything to write home about. So I thought I would enjoy myself a little and play with Rich who moved down there from Salt Lake a few weeks ago and then my friend Kristi who came down on Saturday, because I told her she could stay in my hotel room for free if she wanted a little vacation.

So besides the Conference on Friday, Saturday and Sunday, I did have time in the evenings to play with my friends. Friday night Rich took me to the Stratosphere. He had been talking about it for over a week so he was super excited. We already made up our minds that we would ride the Insanity.

I wasn’t nervous at all until we got out of the car and he said, “I hope I don’t throw up” like he did on the Tornado at the State Fair last year. Then I not only got nervous for him getting sick, but I got nervous that I might get sick. It’s never happened to me before, so “maybe this is my time” I thought. I got even more worried when the elevator out of the parking garage made me a little woozy. If a simple elevator ride turns my stomach, what was the Insanity going to do to me?

The long line up to the top didn’t help matters either. They took a “before” picture as we were going up. I’m not sure why. I know they take one of you while you’re on the ride. All these macho guys in line started wincing and covering their mouths like over-dramatic teenage girls when we stepped out onto the platform. But by the time we got up there and I actually saw the ride, I wasn’t that nervous. It really wasn’t that bad (sorry Rich, I know you told me to hype it up). If you’re not afraid of heights, it’s not that bad. It was way fun though. Next time I want to do the Big Shot.

The next night Kristi came with us to ride the roller coaster at the New York New York. That is a very jerky ride, but I love it. I love roller coasters. That was a long line too. Vegas is great for people watching. Kristi came up with games for us to play while waiting in line or making our way through large crowds. The games were “Real Ones or Fake Ones?” and “Guess Their Day Job”. Rich, Kristi and I guessed the day job of these guys behind us. I thought they looked like Real Estate guys, Kristi thought Sales of some sort. Rich agreed. After awhile, I couldn’t help myself, I had to ask. So I asked the guy behind me. He said they all work together but he’s the only one in sales. He does their marketing. Ding! Ding! We were right. Kind of. And then he guessed our jobs. He said I was a teacher and Rich did something with computers. Well, Kristi is a teacher. Close. Rich however, is an attorney. And it turns out he’s handling a case for this guy’s company.

The next night we went to the Tropicana to see “Bodies” -- an exhibit with actual human cadavers. Everyone has been telling me I need to see that exhibit because it’s really cool. It was interesting. I’m not quite sure how I felt about the ethics of it though. There’s some controversy surrounding how they acquired those bodies. I don’t think they murdered them or anything, but they might have acquired them illegally is what I hear.

Before we entered the exhibit they made us pose for yet another before picture, which I thought was kind of funny. Well, the implicit thought of there being an “after” picture was funny. I think an “after” photo from a cadaver exhibit would have been more telling than an after photo from an amusement park ride.

It was down in the dusty depths of the Tropicana Hotel’s basement. I felt like we were being led to a sketchy place. And then we get to the admissions desk and it cost $28! I wasn’t quite prepared for that. I usually expect $15 for a museum or something. But for a single exhibit? That came as a surprise. But that’s all right. We made it all the way there. And then they wanted us to pay six more dollars for the audio tour. And at the end they had a "Donate your organs to science" table. In my head I screamed, “What more do they want from me?”

We spent about an hour there and then headed out in the 100-degree weather to find some dinner. This was our favorite spot on the strip…

We were all feeling physically weak because we were so hungry. The Cheesecake Factory was still a good 20-minute walk away and we just couldn’t take it anymore so Rich bought us a big kiwi strawberry smoothie to share. Rich said that was the most worthwhile six dollars he ever spent.

Well, that’s all really. A few thoughts about Vegas though: I walk a LOT there. Next time I go I’m bringing a pedometer. Things like Mandalay Bay don’t look that far away, but forty minutes later, when you’re still not there, you realize it may not have been the best idea. And even inside my hotel I’m walking a lot. When I first checked in, I thought I would never reach my room. I kept turning down more halls and more and more. And the convention rooms were really far away. After the first day I walked out of the last session with this one lady and I said, “Well, I guess it’s time for the 15 minute walk back to my room….” She said, “15 minutes? Wow. Aren’t you staying in this hotel?” I knew right then and there she wasn’t going to get me, so I told her I liked her skirt and then picked up my pace.

This one lady noted how much sex they sell on the street. Referring to all the “clickers” (is what we called them) on the street, she said, “I have three tickets to strip clubs in my purse and I don’t know how they got there.”

Someone else noted how slow everyone moves on the street. Tell me about it! Maybe I’m a fast walker outside, but I felt like I was constantly weaving my way in and out of all these people who are just gawking at everything out there on the streets. We decided it’s because it’s only tourists out there. In other busy touristy cities like New York or London, people move faster because there are actually residents who live there. Las Vegas residents avoid the strip like the plague. But it’s all relative. As the saying goes, “Anyone walking slower than you is a moron and anyone walking faster than you is insane.” Or something like that.

I still love the Bellagio Fountains. It’s a great thing to anticipate and watch. Kind of like fireworks. There’s something about light and water that fascinates people. I think I like the fountains better than fireworks though. They’re just pretty to watch as they dance to the music. I love it.

Next time I go I have to see Cirque du Soleil. Our keynote speaker was their creative director or something like that and she showed us some clips. She was kind of self-congratulatory when it came to her address, which she didn't bother to tailor to our group at all, but their shows do look amazing. I’ve only seen The Journey of Man in an Omni-max theatre. And when they performed for the Academy Awards on television. Never live. So that’s on my list for next time.

24th of Maria

Saturday is my friend Maria's 24th Birthday. I'm going to be out of town this weekend, so the Maria Birthday Post must go up early. Last year I remember giving Maria 23 presents for her 23rd birthday. I think 24 presents is just too many, so instead, I'm going to list 24 of my favorite Maria memories:

1 When we were in D.C. you ripped your jeans, so we all went to Express and you bought new ones. Because you needed to wear them out of the store, you walked behind the counter so the clerk could scan the price tag, still attached. I think she thought we were all crazy. Especially me, because I took a picture.

2 One Sunday our friends were buzzing because there was a Laura look-a-like at church and you told me you didn’t get it because “she wasn’t even that fat.”

3 The time we snagged an Albertsons grocery cart someone left along 500 West so we could have something to carry all our groceries up the elevator and down the long Northgate halls to our apartments.

4 A couple years ago you came to the Fellowship Opening. I was really tired because I worked ten hours straight and the artists were stressing me out. You gave me a hug. I needed that.

5 That one time we were playing Apples to Apples at Jon’s house. You know which time.

6 When we went to Denver to see the Foo Fighters with your sisters, you guys drove me to Littleton so I could see my newest niece Piper. That was really nice of you, especially because it took us forever to find it.

7 Our walk/runs. I’d walk while you’d run laps around me.

8 The day I moved into 530 with you and Kaila. You moved all your stuff over to half of the bathroom. It made me feel comfortable, like you were excited to have me there.

9


10 A couple summers ago you and I went down to St. George to Mic’s condo and you asked what the “Fro Stop” was. As if you were high or something. Granted, it reads FROSTOP (You had to be there).

11 Same trip, we started up Angel’s Landing and I thought I was going to pass out from the heat and my little legs were tired so you slowed your pace with me till we both decided we didn’t want to go to the top that bad. So we stayed behind and chatted. I remember what we talked about too.

12 I’m not sure if it was the first day I met you, but it was one of the first times, I admired all your bags hanging on the coat rack by your table. Right then and there you gave me one of them. I still use it.

13 One summer, the ward was playing “Capture the Flag” at Liberty Park and you reached your hand right down Sheila’s pants and grabbed it. This was before I knew you, but I’ve heard the story told so many times I feel like I was there.

14 One night on the cruise, Marni and I went back to our room after dinner while you and Kaila went upstairs to the “club”. It wasn’t long before you came down again, opened the door and said, “They’re playing La Isla Bonita, you have to come up and dance with us.”

15 One Sunday, Jonathan Easterling bore his testimony and told the congregation what an awesome girl you were because of something you did for him that week. I remember being so touched that he would share that with the ward. It warmed my heart.

16 One morning when I still lived up in 619 you called me saying you and Kaila were out of milk and wondered if you could borrow some. Instead of coming to pick up the milk, you both just came upstairs with your bowls and boxes of cereal and ate there.

17 The “Win a date with Jon” contest on the Abel Hour.

18 One night Marni went downstairs to watch a movie with you and Kaila and I was upstairs watching TV at my place. You came up and said Marni told you what I was watching and you said, “A biography on Judy Garland? Are you kidding me?” And you stayed and watched the rest of it.

19 And that just reminded me of one Friday night last year. We didn’t mean to stay in all night, but we ended up watching the three-hour PBS special on Cary Grant. And all his little wives.

20 Any time you recount any story about Ted.

21 That night at Carrabbas when we spent the entire time guessing the names of all Jon's s siblings – thus birthed the guessing game. My favorite subsequent games being with Bryce (who wondered "how do I win?" -- little did he know he doesn't get to win) and then Lex, who had us guessing the name of his brother Lane for almost 10 minutes with our hint being that it had two syllables. The best part was how Lex really thought “Lane” had two syllables. You clapped it out for him like you do when you're first teaching 5 year-olds about rhythm. “Lane! One syllable.”

22 One Sunday when the ward choir (and entire congregation) was performing "Come Thou Fount" for Bishop Pohlman, I realized I forgot ALL the sheet music and had this tremendous fear that no one would know the words and no one would sing and I was stressing out. You took my car home and picked up all the sheet music so we could have it in time for the musical number. This was actually a dream I had, but still, you saved the day in my dream.

23 One night you me and Kaila talked until 3:30 in the morning about movies from our childhood that we wanted to see again and movies that make us cry (mine was the Land Before Time). We couldn't think of the name of this one Disney Movie and had to look it up later (No Deposit, No Return).

24 Two years ago, I went to Austin for the Americans for the Arts Conference. I was walking around the Capitol grounds and wanted someone to talk to, so I called you and you let me talk to you about nonsense for ten minutes.


So here I am headed off to my second Americans for the Arts Conference. This time in Vegas. I think I'll skip the Coca Cola Factory this time. I wish I could be there for your birthday Maria. I feel like I'm missing a lot of good stuff this weekend. Your birthday party, Lagoon, the Tap Recital...someone take a lot of pictures at the tap recital, please!

Happy 24th!

Good ol' Radio

I've been spending more time in my car lately. Not necessarily driving -- sometimes I'm just sitting. If there's a good song or program on, I'll just sit and wait until it's over.

Friday night I pulled into my driveway at 12:30 AM. I was really tired, but I was enjoying the Marie Antoinette soundtrack I burned that day, and I kept wanting to hear what came next. So I stayed in my car a good ten minutes until I decided I should go in.

Movie soundtracks are one of my favorite things to listen to. Not the "various artists" kind, although a lot of those are really good (Reality Bites, Garden State), but I'm talking about film scores. My all time favorites are Gosford Park, The Village, and To Kill a Mockingbird. I even have soundtracks to movies I've never seen before, like King Kong and Henry V, but James Newton Howard and Patrick Doyle are two of my favorite film composers so I'll listen to anything they write.

Lately though, I've been listening to The Age of Innocence and Iris. I've never seen Iris, but Joshua Bell does the solo violin for that soundtrack, and after the article I read about Joshua Bell a couple months ago, I wanted to hear some Joshua Bell so I raided my mom's CDs.

There's a great radio program on KBYU FM called "The Perfect Score". It's produced out of BYU Idaho actually, and every Saturday at 4 PM they play an hour of various film scores, based on a theme. Yesterday the theme was war movies, I think. One time they did soundtracks from movies about the sea or something weird. They did music from The Perfect Storm, Pirates of the Carribbean and The Little Mermaid. I just remember thinking how precious it was that they included The Little Mermaid.

I listen to KBYU FM a lot. I pretty much listen to it all day at work, and I'm becoming more familiar with their regular programs like "Thinking Aloud" and I'm beginning to listen to their "piano puzzler of the day". It's a nationally syndicated program where they disguise a familiar tune in the style of a famous composer. For example, a couple weeks ago, the tune was "I'm getting married in the morning" from My Fair Lady in the style of Erik Satie. It's kind of cool. I'm beginning to look forward to these programs as I'm working at my desk. I remember when I listened to the Abel Hour every day at 11 AM at my desk too (Abel and Jon, I kinda miss you guys).

I really like radio. I try to listen to it in the car. Unlike CDs or even my iPod, I get to be surprised at what comes next. I think these days we almost risk robbing ourselves from new experiences because with iPods and TiVos our lives are so programmable to our tastes. Don't tell me I can put my iPod on shuffle and be surprised, that's not what I'm talking about. And I'm not saying iPods and TiVos are bad. I'm just saying sometimes I'll hear something on the radio that I never would have chosen to listen to at that particular time, but because I didn't choose it, it reaches me in a way I didn't expect. And sometimes it really touches me, leaving a lasting impression. But do I end up listening to a lot of crap inbetween the good stuff? Yes, I do. So that's when I turn the CD player on, but by the time I think "Let's see what's on the radio now" I usually hit the end of a song I wish I heard the beginning to. It's a gamble.

Another radio program I try to listen to is "Showtunes Saturday Night." I never listen to Kosy 106.5, but I have it programmed in my car just for that particular show. I love Broadway Musicals, and it's kind of fun to play "name that musical" and see what comes up next. When Saturday rolls around I secretly hope I'll be in my car between 8 PM and midnight so I can tune in and see what they'll play. Last Saturday after a BBQ I had to hit the grocery store, so I tuned in. I pulled in to Smith's Marketplace in the middle of "Stars" from Les Miserables and so I just turned off my engine, turned off my lights and sat in the parking lot until it was over. It made me teary. I don't know why. I also teared up on the way home when they played "I'm Not that Girl." Great song. Great musical. In fact, that song just came up on my iTunes as I write this. It doesn't always make me cry, but for some reason, it did that night.

And then last night I went to an awful BBQ where I just didn't belong. I wasn't happy to be there and I was nearing miserable, so I finished up my conversation, hopped in my car, and I turned on Showtunes Saturday. I felt at home again. Sounds cheesy, I know, but it's nice having something to turn to that will center you. Music can really center me. It's funny because when I'm listening to something I really enjoy, I tend to drive more slowly. Instead of speeding through yellow lights, I slow down. I'll even take the long way home, or I'll go to Smith's Marketplace instead of Albertsons because it's further away. It's worth it to me to have those few extra minutes in my car to listen to my music.

Sushi 101

Last night I was able to satisfy that little part of me that longs for the days before I had a full-time 9-5. I had a glimpse of what it used to be like to work a part time or summer job doing something completely opposite of office work.

I worked as a culinary assistant for Sur la Table and it was so much fun. It was kind of funny too because Melissa, who came to my cooking class last month, was there with her fiancé Brandon. (Brandon Anderson for those of you who know him).

She saw me there and said, “So you took them up on your offer, I guess!” Yes, I did. Last time I was there (see previous post), I was a student in a class and the chef Pamela talked to me about being an assistant and so I interviewed a few weeks ago and they hired me.

If you don’t mind doing dishes, being an assistant is just as great (if not better) than being a student. You learn a lot, you get to eat whatever is left over (which is a LOT) and you get paid for your time. And you get an employee discount.

Pamela is so nice and there were two other assistants there: Brian and Van. They were awesome to work with. Brian could very well be the nicest guy I’ve ever met, and he’s the perfect assistant because he’s a freaking mind reader. He just peruses the kitchen picking up utensils when you need them, moving trash cans closer to you, handing you a wet towel, etc. He would also take over whatever I was doing just in case I wanted to watch the chef so I could learn. What a great guy. Sometimes I forget there are people like that around.

Last night we learned how to make a few different sushi rolls. The picture at the top of this post is Brandon slicing his rainbow roll. I think that one was my favorite. Or there was one I liked that had “crunchies” in it (that’s what the sushi chef called them, it was basically fried tempura). His name was Wil. Well, his real name is something no one could pronounce so we all called him Wil. He was great and really cute when he didn’t know the English word for “squeeze”. The best thing about Wil was how people kept asking him questions about Japan and he would just shake his head and say, “I don’t know.” Yeah, he’s Korean.

I scheduled three days in June to work there again. I like having these little jobs on the side. It’s fun and challenging to venture outside my office job. And a little humbling. A couple years ago I did extra work for Everwood. I think I did that about three or four times. It paid better than this job, but they pushed you around (literally) and treated you like a child – a little alarming to someone used to being treated with respect. Still, I enjoyed the experience.

I did dishes for about 90 minutes straight last night. Coming home exhausted from being on my feet for several hours, my clothes smelling like cooking oil and my fingers shrunken from soapy water took me back to my Food for Thought days in Draper ten years ago. Let’s be honest, my job with the Arts Council doesn’t have me working THAT hard. I mean, it’s a thinking job. I get paid for my ideas and follow-through. Some days I work like a dog, installing shows, moving artwork, running around to meet deadlines, but that only happens two or three times a month. I have a lot of respect for people who are on their feet all day, every day.

Sandwiches

Let me preface this post by saying that I love my dad and he does a lot for my family and me. I talk about my dad a lot because he’s one of my favorite people so what I’m about to write about is more humorous observation than anything.

So yesterday was Mothers Day, right? My mom thought it would be nice if we all went on a picnic to Liberty Park. Cute Mom brought all this stuff for sandwiches; she brought fruit, vegetables, cookies, rice krispie treats and then she brought a cute little cooler for both my sister and me to take home as our gift. I remember one Mothers Day after Lisa and I gave her a gift she said in her sweet voice, “I just want to say that I think it should be called Daughter’s Day.” She may have been medicated at the time, but regardless, it was a sweet thing to say. That’s just the way she is. Always thinking of others even on a day designated for her.

We had a lot of food and she said I should call some friends to come over. So I sent a text out to some friends I thought might be around. I had two takers: Mike and Dan.

My mom loves it when I invite friends to anything so she was thrilled to have them. Mike came first, and I think my parents and Lisa, Josh and Jack were off playing in the water somewhere. But when Dan showed up, about 20 minutes later everyone had returned. I think my mom asked Dan if he was hungry and he said he was and so I walked over to the other side of the blanket and grabbed all the food, I brought it over to Dan and told him what we had available for sandwiches. My mom said something like,

“Laura, did you make Dan a sandwich?”
“Um, I brought him everything he needs.”
“Laura!” she says in a tone that implies I was being very rude.
“What? Dan knows how to make a sandwich.”

Mike made his own sandwich just fine. I always thought people preferred to make a sandwich the way they wanted it. Personally, I thought it was nice of me to bring all the food over to them. I couldn’t figure out why she was so surprised at my behavior until I thought back about a half hour ago at my dad’s behavior. Allow me to paint you a picture.

We have two blankets laid out and a chair. While Mom, Lisa, Josh, Jack and myself crawled around the ground gathering what we needed when we wanted it, my dad reigned over us in the only chair. My mom laid out all the food and during the course of about ten minutes my dad says,

“Hey Beck, can I have some grapes?”
“Mmm…Laur…a carrot and some dip.”
“Where are the chips?”
“Are those dill pickles?”
“Hey, what’s that over there?”
“Oooh, Laur. Grapes.”


My mom said, “Tom, you might actually have to join us down here at some point.”

That was before my friends showed up. But even then, my dad started asking my friends to hand him things.

“Oooh, Mike, see that? Let’s split that lemon bread.” Mike looked truly baffled for a minute and not quite sure what to do.


When Dad was ready for a sandwich my mom asked him what he wanted on his and she lovingly built him a sandwich as he listed off his choice of meats, cheeses and condiments.

So I guess my mom is used to serving people everything they need. She has always fixed my dad a plate for dinner. I wonder if it’s different seeing how neither my mom nor my dad lived on their own before getting married (with the exception of my dad and his mission). Maybe my dad was always used to having someone serve him and my mom was brought up to be the one who serves people. But I think she always did that for him and she still does it for us on occasion.

I’m not saying I don’t like serving people, I’m just saying my friends are grown up enough to make their own sandwich. But Mike and Dan, as my picnic guests, I hope you’re not offended by my not fixing you a sandwich. I am a good sandwich maker, but I saw what you came up with on your own and I thought you did just fine.

3 and 7 years ago...

I'm on a little nostalgia kick since I have nothing new to say. I was looking through my old journals and so I decided I would do another flashback. It's interesting how on both of these May 8ths I wasn't in Utah.

Saturday, May 8, 2004 /8:20 AM
Ohope, New Zealand

I had a weird dream last night. I dreamt that I went home and we were moving into a different house. Wait -- it was our house, but it was different. Anyway, I had to move into a different room because Lisa was getting my room. My new room was much smaller, but it was understood that I was moving out anyway, so it would just be temporary. But all of my stuff didn't fit. For some reason I had to have the stove in my room and then a baby's crib. Whose baby I'm not quite sure.

And then, my hair was cut short. But I didn't get it cut myself, it was like I was unconscious the day earlier and Mom took me and had my hair cut without my knowing it. She told me she took me to Phil (my hair guy) and told him to cut my hair like hers, but he kept cutting it and cutting it. He, himself said it was the ugliest hair cut on me that he had ever done.


Monday, May 8, 2000 /10:08 PM
Tigard, Oregon

This morning Marni dropped Ilene and me off at the Tualatin Park and Ride so we could take the bus downtown. It kind of felt like Mom dropping you off for school.

We got off at 6th Avenue. It rained all morning. First we went to find the law firm for Ilene's interview and then we went to find Action Employment Services for my interview. It was only 10 AM and our interviews weren't until one o'clock but I asked if they would take me early and they did. I decided I really, really don't like employment agencies. They want me to be proficient with all this software and know these databases. I took the typing and Microsoft Word test. I can type 84 WPM, but I only got a 64% on the Word test, which I think is excellent for never having worked with it before. I always used WordPerfect but of course I never told them that. I learned more about Word just taking that test than I ever knew about WordPerfect. Just give me an hour to fool around with software and I could figure it out. I'm a bright girl.

Ilene's interview was at Davis Wright Tremaine and that went well we think. I think she'll get the assistant to the assistant job easy. Ilene's a bright girl too.

I picked up a newspaper as we waited for our bus home. There was an ad for a bakery downtown. Now that sounds kind of fun. I liked working at Food For Thought. I like cooking. But I have a college degree now. I feel like I should be doing something more professional. Sometimes I almost wish I didn't have a degree. That way I wouldn't feel stupid applying for a job at a bakery. I know I'm paranoid, but it seems like people would look down on me for having a college degree and a job that doesn't even require a high school diploma at the same time.

The bus system works really well here, so that's good. Marni picked us up and then we went to Washington Mutual to open up new accounts, then we went home. Marni made us cookies. She'll make a good mom someday.


I can't believe I got along without a car as long as I did.

I should start keeping a journal again. I used to write everyday. Something happened a couple years ago and I stopped writing so much. Maybe with friends living far away I started emailing more and so writing seemed redundant. Maybe it was this blog. Or maybe things are just boring. That can't be it. I wrote about nothing every day. Clearly.

One Year Ago

I apologize if you've tried to watch this previously and couldn't. I changed the settings to public so you don't need special permission to view the video.



I can't believe this was a year ago. Doesn't seem like it's been that long. But this is one from the "Thursday Night Dinner" archive. I'm sure it's only entertaining to those who know us in the video. I had to put it up because I think Clint is hilarious in this clip.

Real Good for Free

This is a picture of L'Enfant Plaza Station in Washington, D.C. It was taken by a guy named Drew McDermott. I don't know who he is, I needed a relevant illustration for this post and so I Google imaged it. He should get credit for it though.

It's the first of May and I almost forgot about my tradition of a poem on the first of each month. (I'm sure you've been holding your breath, right?)

Anyway, these are actually lyrics to a song by Joni Mitchell. I'm not a big Joni Mitchell fan, I don't know her songs, but I'll tell you the story after you read it.

I slept last night in a good hotel
I went shopping today for jewels.
The wind rushed around in the dirty town
and the children let out from the schools.
I was standing on a noisy corner
waiting for the walking green
Across the street he stood, and he played real good
on his clarinet for free.
Now me, I play for fortunes
and the velvet curtain calls.
I got a black limousine and a few gentlemen
escorting me to these halls.
And I'll play if you have the money
or if you're a friend to me.
But the one-man-band by the quick lunch stand,
he was playing real good for free.
Nobody stopped to hear him,
though he played so sweet and high.
They knew he had never been on their TV
so they passed his good music by.
I meant to go over and ask for a song,
maybe put on a harmony.
I heard his refrain as that signal changed,
he was still playing real good for free.

-- Joni Mitchell

About three weeks ago, a co-worker sent me the link to an article called "Pearls for Breakfast" and the story pretty much consumed my life for two or three days. If you can take the time, the article is well worth it (right, Ilene?) Not that it draws any conclusions, but it poses a lot of interesting questions. It's an interesting study on human behavior and makes you think about your own. So after I read this article, I had to read all the comments on the article (maybe that's why it consumed two or three days of my life). One of the comments included the Joni Mitchell lyrics which touches on one aspect of the article.

Again, I recommend this article if you have the time. It's very well written and researched. If you do take the time, let me know your thoughts. And make sure you watch the video clips.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/04/AR2007040401721.html?hpid=topnews

Dim the lights...

Last weekend I went to St. George with my friends Christy and Jenn and several nice strangers. Most of us went to Zions where I took a lot of pictures. I thought it would be fun to learn how to make and share a slide show. So here it is!

Loyalties

Through the years I’ve developed loyalties to certain products. I used to not care. I would buy whatever was on sale, despite the brand. Growing up, we were never a “brand” family. My mom bought whatever. I didn’t care what kind of Raisin Bran I was eating (I’d rather be eating Cocoa Krispies, but that wasn’t an option). Although “light” or “nonfat” were not in our vocabulary. When I was old enough to grocery shop, I would get a talking to if I bought light sour cream or mayonnaise.

I’m getting off the point. My point is there are certain products/brands I am willing to spend the extra money for. Whether it’s for quality or nostalgic reasons.

I suppose a nostalgic loyalty is Arm and Hammer toothpaste. It’s not the cheapest brand out there, but I’ve been loyal to Arm and Hammer for at least five years. It all started many, many years ago when I was at my Grandma and Grandpa’s time-share at Snowbird. My uncle Tony and aunt Kathy were spending the night and so they had all their stuff there. They let me use their toothpaste and it was Arm and Hammer. I loved the taste and the fresh feeling it left in my mouth. I don’t know at what point after that I started buying it for myself, but I’ve used the same toothpaste for as long as I can remember. I’ll mix up the variety a little bit, enamel care, extra whitening, but no more gel for me. I’m paste all the way. Of course, I use whatever free trial sizes my dentist gives me when I travel. I think traveling lends exception to a lot of things though.

Speaking of Arm and Hammer, I have recently subscribed to their laundry detergent as well. I’m not married to it or anything, but I’m happy with it.

Another thing is my macaroni and cheese. This is partly nostalgic, partly quality. I’m not willing to settle for Western Family or Kroger. It’s gotta be Kraft. And I don’t know how you feel about your pasta shapes, but the spirals are my personal favorite. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because they cook faster or maybe it has to do with the texture. And I don’t like Velveeta shells and cheese either. Is Velveeta part of the Kraft family? Anyway, I don’t like it. I like my regular mac and cheese.

I want to say that I’m an exclusive Tillamook cheese girl, but I’m not. Cracker Barrel cheese is good too (a step above Tillamook in my opinion) but if the price is right, I’ll buy Cache Valley or Kraft. But I stopped buying mild cheddar cheese years ago. I’m all about medium or sharp.

My latest loyalty is to organic milk. I think my friend Clint converted me. It just tastes better. And for some reason, it lasts longer – which, doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me, but I don’t question it. I don’t have a favorite brand, just as long as it’s organic. It costs twice as much, but somehow that doesn’t bother me.

Anyone have any loyalties you want to recommend?

Pass the Port

Last week I took a cooking class at Sur la Table. I've only taken one class there before and it was with my friend Marni several years ago. I remember we learned how to dip chocolates. Haven't dipped a chocolate since.

The cooking class I took last week was from their Everyday Gourmet series called "From the Pantry to the Table." I loved every minute of it. What's awesome about these classes is that they're hands on and then you get to eat all the food you made. Thanks again to my friends who gave me the class for my birthday. I learned a lot, I got to eat a gourmet meal (more like two meals) and I got to take home some really great recipes. Here is the menu from the class:

Sauteed medallions of pork in a mustard port sauce
Herbed smashed potatoes
Porcini mushroom and red wine risotto
Pan-roasted salmon with a warm lentil and bacon salad
Sambal Shrimp with mangoes and couscous

And then our teacher thought we didn't have enough vegetables in our meal so she threw together a salad for us too. I was happy that my friend Dre wanted to come along. We accidentally sliced the onions and mushrooms instead of chopping them for the risotto, but it all cooked down to a mushy mixture anyway, so it was no matter.

I learned a lot. I learned how to slice properly (if I had a proper knife at home I could continue practicing that skill). I learned when adding broth to risotto, it should be hot broth, not poured straight from a can. I learned when cooking salmon you always start with skin down (don't remember why though). I learned what quinoa is. I learned something else, but I don't remember what it was.

It was two and a half hours of pure heaven for me. I love to cook. I love to make shopping lists. I look forward to going to the grocery store when I can saunter up and down the aisles with my cart at my leisure. I love getting the weekly ads from Smith's and Albertson's in the mail so I can see what's on sale and plan my meals accordingly. I love fresh produce and I love trying new recipes. So being around fresh and new ingredients not to mention professional cookware and cutlery was a dream come true.

I want to go back. I did buy some porcini mushrooms so I could make the risotto tomorrow night. Believe it or not I already have arborio rice and fresh parmesan. But it looks like I forgot the fresh sage and parsley.

Cooking is expensive.

Trick questions

I haven’t applied for a job in a long time, probably because I’ve had this job for six years. The last job I applied for was at a temp agency in Portland, Oregon. And it was pretty straightforward. I don’t mind interviewing for jobs, but sometimes filling out the applications seems so meaningless.

Because Glen is retiring from the Utah Arts Council after 30 years, a couple of us are up for promotions, and with that comes filling out applications and job re-classifications.

Human Resources, who apparently has no idea what we do here, writes the application questions. Some of these don’t make any sense in respect to the position. For example, Fletcher is applying for the Traveling Exhibition Program. Basically he will load up the art truck, drive it all over the state, unload it and install exhibits at schools, retirement centers and other community buildings. Nowhere in his application does it ask if he can drive a large vehicle. Under “level of physicality” it says “sedentary”. I guess he's sedentary when he's in the driver's seat. I also found it odd how where it lists job responsibilities for the Traveling Exhibition Program, under “travel” it says, “none”.

But so far this is my favorite question:

“How do you ensure that what you write will be concise, and yet be interpreted as intended? Please explain.”

First of all, how are you supposed to answer something like that?

Second of all, I had to laugh at the irony as I stumbled my way through the wording there.

If I put,

“How do you ensure what YOU write is concise, yet interpreted as intended?”

maybe that will answer their question. This has got to be a trick where they’re just trying to see if you can write clearly.

I must be hungry

I have a couple new favorite things. Have you ever ordered something at a restaurant and it was so good you couldn’t stop thinking about it for days?

About a month ago I met a friend for lunch at Caffe Molise – one of the few restaurants where I order the same thing every time I go. I always order the gnocchi. It’s in a creamy tomato garlic sauce that is SO GOOD. But that day they had a special: spinach pesto gnocchi. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so good. It was perfect. I can taste it right now. Traditionally, I eat half my gnocchi and save the rest for later, but I couldn’t stop eating it and it got better with every bite. When something tastes this good I like to tell whomever I’m with “you have to try this.” But this time I think I was selfish and waited to be asked. I allowed him a bite willingly, after all, he was paying for my meal. I wanted more the next day and the next. But it was a special. I need to call and see if the chef has a schedule where he makes that on Mondays or something. I want it right now.

What I need to do is learn how to make good pesto. Last summer my friend Dre invited a bunch of us to a dinner she won for a service auction. I don’t remember who the guy was that made the pesto but it was awesome. I need that recipe. I bet if I puréed some spinach in there I could come pretty close to a clone of what I’ve been craving.

Café Trio has been my favorite restaurant for a while. They make a great club sandwich (panini style). Their chocolate torte is to die for but what surprised me was how much I loved their chocolate pudding. My sister told me to order it and I thought, “Chocolate pudding? What kind of dessert is that?” It’s the best kind at Trio, if you ask me. It’s dark chocolate pudding with…ok, I’m getting off track. I didn’t mean to even talk about Trio. What I meant to say is that I have a new favorite place: Sette Bello on 260 South 200 West.

I ate there last Tuesday for lunch. They make what they call “verace pizza napoletana.” I prefer Neapolitan style pizza. There are all these rules that must be followed. The pizza is cooked in a brick oven at 800 – 1000 degrees Fahrenheit. So the pizza only takes about a minute to cook. You can read all about it on their website. It’s the same oven the famous Grimaldi’s in Brooklyn uses, but this pizza is just as good if not better. I might have to say better. I told my parents to go there and when I asked my mom about it later she nearly cried before she could say, “That was the BEST pizza I’ve ever had.” My dad went on and on about his Margherita pizza with pine nuts and mushrooms.

So if you haven’t already, get yourselves to Sette Bello before the prices go up or they start skimping on ingredients. And bring me.

Blue sweats and sunburns

Yup, you guessed it. That's me. And the boy standing next to me that has my same face, that's my older brother Carter.

I went home for Easter and found some old things of mine. My parents had what used to be my room recarpeted so there are piles of my old photo albums, scrapbooks, and school projects stacked on the furniture.

I was looking for a different picture when I came across this one. My friend Ilene posted something on her blog a couple weeks ago about the bad outfits she used to wear, and she had a picture of her in her overalls. Ilene, I couldn't find the one we talked about with my overalls and the apples. You might have to send it to me.

I've been trying to figure out how old I am here. I can't be older than 10 or 11. This picture made me laugh though because I know my Grandma took it. My family and my mom's parents went to Pacific Grove in California for a week and we stayed in a cottage just across the street from the ocean. And I guess we bought a crab and this was before Grandma cooked it for dinner. I can just hear her telling us to go stand in the kitchen so she could take our picture. "Laura...Doll, hold on to the crab."

Anyway, check out my aqua blue sweats! And look how cute those sheep and tulips and hearts are, huh? I bet my mom painted it.

As I was flipping through photos I also came across some old poetry books of mine, and since it's still National Poetry Month, I thought I would post a poem of my own. I wrote this when I was thirteen for Mrs. Christensen's English class. I bet I wrote it after my dad made me clean out the fridge. I remember having him help me with some of my adjectives, the word "putrid" in particular.

"Twelve Spoiled Surprises"

After vacation in my fridge I saw:

Twelve shriveled carrots,
Eleven moldy yams,
Ten smelly cold cuts,
Nine gushy apples,
Eight brown bananas,
Seven dried up biscuits
Six stinking salmon,
FIVE...ROTTEN...EGGS!
Four putrid peas
Three bad beans,
Two unpleasant plums,
And a dripping can of Diet Coke.

I loved writing poetry when I was little. I liked to rhyme. I wrote a lot of poems for extra credit. It's funny because back in February I mentioned how I'm not really a student of poetry, and I don't claim to be now, but it seems I've been talking about it a lot lately.

I hope you all had a good Easter weekend. I had a good time. I went sailing at the Great Salt Lake on Saturday. Well, there wasn't a whole lot of wind, so it was more like drifting. It was kind of a spontaneous activity, and had I known when I left the house I'd end up on a boat, out in the sun for a few hours, I would have brought sunblock. Fortunately, for my face, I wear SPF 30 every day. But my poor arms don't get that kind of pampering, so yesterday they looked like this. This picture isn't the best for color contrast, but I thought I should record my first sunburn of the year.

everything which is yes

Not only is it the first of April, which means time for another poem, it is also national poetry month, which makes posting a poem even more fitting.

This one is by E. E. Cummings.


i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of allnothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)


I went on a little nature walk today so I could play with my new camera outside. This poem came to mind. I love the imagery; especially how he describes trees. I love trees and their leaping greenly spirits.

So I did a little research on E. E. Cummings. I remember learning about him in school and how he was a rebel as far as punctuation and capitalization is concerned. And I would always see his name "e. e. cummings" (with lowercase initials). A tradition of writing his name with lowercase initials developed. But I learned that he actually capitalized his name (as seen in his autograph at the top of this post), and preferred it to be capitalized. Funny how things like that happen.

R.U.O.K.?

You may think this is a picture of a blank canvas, but actually this piece is called “blank on canvas”. Or maybe this one is called “it’s fun reading titles”. Unless this one is “I double-dare you to buy this.” In December of 2002, a moronic narcissist of an artist had a show at our gallery. And a lot of the titles, although you couldn’t tell from the picture (they were all simply gesso on canvas), were ridiculously inappropriate and offensive.

I cleaned out my files and came across my file on “The Jass”. I won’t use his real name, but he preferred to be called “The Jass” anyway. Or, he would answer to “thejass.com”. I hated this guy, but the whole experience was priceless, so this file is definitely a keeper.

Back in the day, we didn’t have a competitive application process to exhibit at the Rio Gallery. Lila was in charge of the gallery and this guy’s college professor asked Lila to give him a show. So he brought down some pretty pictures of landscapes and Lila said “why not.”

But his show at our gallery was months away, which gave him plenty of time to slop some gesso on some canvases, but mostly it gave him time to create his personal image. This guy thought he was a rock star. He was a Meier and Frank cashier by day, but when he went “out” at night his hair was streaked red and purple, his sunglasses came on and his entourage strutted behind.

I didn’t buy it for a second. But we were contracted to give him a show. Sometime during the year, the Rio Gallery was handed over to me as my responsibility. I didn’t know anything about this guy’s artwork, all I knew was that his show was called I.M.O.K.R.U.O.K. When I asked Lila what his work was like, she said he showed her pictures of flowers and trees. But the more I talked to this guy and the more he told me about how big this show was going to be, the more suspicious I became.

Long story short, he brought his work to the gallery ten minutes before we closed, the night before the opening. Seventeen blank canvases. He said he’d bring me the titles the next day. I was beside myself.

The next day he brought me his list of titles. I asked, “Which titles go to which piece?” and he told me it’s my job as the curator to assign the titles to each piece. I wanted to punch him in the face. “I am not the curator of this show,” I told him. That’s the last thing I wanted people to think, that I had any more association with this show than the fact that it’s hanging in the gallery I work at. What made him think the concept of a blank canvas was his idea? It had been done. YEARS and YEARS ago. Once the concept is broken, you can’t do it again. The novelty is gone, the intrigue is lost.

All I wanted to do was throw him and his canvases out the door, but unfortunately we had a show to hang, and the board of directors advised us to make the best of what we had, and there’s nothing we could have done. Yeah, we were duped, but we’ll take precautions to never let it happen again.

There’s so much more to this story: the advertising I had to do for this guy, his joke of an artist statement, how we had to scramble to take the show down for a day and hang another one in it’s place so it would be appropriate for the governor and legislators to attend our director’s retirement party there, etc. But the best part of the story was a few weeks after it was hung.

One of my co-workers came up to me when I got into work and said, “Did you see what happened out in the gallery?” I walked out there with him and he showed me three pieces that had been stabbed by a pocketknife.

My first instinct was that “the Jass” did it himself or had one of his toadies do it. And I still stick to that theory of mine. C’mon, who really cares enough to do something like that? No one. This artist wanted a controversy. He told me he wanted news media at his opening and he wanted write-ups in the paper. He wanted an enraged public. But guess what? No one cared. I think that disappointed him so he was going to stir up some more trouble to see if the papers would write about it now that he was a victim of vandalism. Too bad he damaged his own “artwork” for nothing. The only thing that came out of this was an angry postcard mailed to the gallery, which I think he wrote himself – he used the same Andy Warhol stamp he used to mail out the exhibit announcements.

This card kills me every time I read it. I blocked out some bad words for your protection. But my favorite part is how he calls himself “The Jasshole.”

So when nothing came out of this, he sent us an invoice itemizing his damages. The invoice totaled about $1300, including transportation costs, overhead, and his “time”.

In conclusion, we gave him $200, he moved to New York to be even less visible and we haven’t heard from or about him since. And with the assistance of an attorney, I created a new exhibition contract, twice as complicated, with all sorts of regulations and disclaimers.