Dream Sequence Sunday

Sometimes I have NO idea why my subconscious comes up with this stuff.

Sunday, October 14, 2001

It was General Conference or something. My whole family was there in the auditorium (bizarre aspect #1). My dad whispered to me that Bruce Willis was here because he's a mormon now. Everyone in the auditorium was whispering about it and looking for him in the crowd. I thought I spotted him. Then he got up and walked toward the stage like he was going to speak to the whole congregation.

The next thing I remember was him walking up among the crowd with a microphone. Only now, he was Demi Moore and she was way overweight. She was just walking up and down the aisles, talking to people with the microphone like she was a talk show host or something.

Dream Sequence Sunday

I'm curious as to what prompted this dream. Maybe I was tired of watching people's kids or something.

Sunday, October 14, 2001

The first thing I remember is being outside with Marni trying to buy tickets for an Incubus concert. I think we were with Shawn and Bri, who already had tickets. This old lady walked by me selling tickets. She wasn't scalping them or anything, she was an official salesperson -- I could tell because of her tee shirt. She sold me two tickets, but they had NURSERY written in big letters on them. I didn't really worry about it until we tried to get to our seats and the usher told us that our tickets were for the nursery where all the concert goers leave their kids. I was so upset that this happened again (apparently this had happened before). So Marni and I sat on the very last row up at the top in the back, while Bri and Shawn got the good seats.

I walked around trying to get a better seat but the place was packed. Andrew from KRCL said before that I could stand with him by his door (he was an usher that night) but when I found him he was at the very top back door.

Zoom Zoom!…and Whoo Whoo!

Earning a degree in art history required that I spend countless hours studying images, objects and symbols. If an object didn’t have an obvious meaning, my task was to assign a meaning to it and prove its validity. As a result, I think just about everything I do, everything I create, every object I welcome into my home and every gift I give is deliberate. It has to have some substance behind it, otherwise it is empty. And empty is NOT me.

Up until a week ago, I had only owned one car in my life: a ’98 Chevy Prizm. It was an inexpensive car because I bought it as a poor college grad with a part time job. It simply got me from here to there and kept me warm/cool on the way. It was fine. Cars were never anything I really cared about. I didn’t buy it for any other reason than the fact that if I wanted to have a job and earn money, I needed a way to get there. I wasn’t in any financial position to be picky. Thus, the car wasn’t representative of me in any way (except for my practicality). And because the car didn’t mean anything substantial to me, I didn’t necessarily love it. Our relationship was an empty one.

If there’s one thing I did love about my Prizm, it was that I didn’t care about it. Well, for the first 5 years I did care about its condition. The first day I got it, my dad backed into it – that was a little alarming. But after awhile, when I knew the car and I weren’t going to be together forever, I stopped worrying about things that might happen to it. There’s a lot of freedom in not caring about something. The hubcap flew off one day; Meh. My sister backed into it one night; Whoops, don’t worry about it. The fabric on the ceiling started to come undone -- whatever, it’s fine.

Now that I have a new car, it’s time to start caring again. I’m not saying the Mazda and I are MFEO, but it’s definitely more “me” than the Chevy Prizm. As I test drove cars, I mostly went by my gut feeling; if it didn’t feel like me, it got cut from the running (also if the seller was insincere and creepy). This is the only car I drove that felt like me -- it was a good feeling. Oddly enough, several people told me they couldn’t see me in this car. Granted, most of them didn’t know me very well. But if they were basing their understanding of “me” by the current car I drove, I could understand their reasoning.

For the past week, driving has been a lot more fun than it used to be. But now that I actually have a relationship with my car, I have to treat it with more respect. Unlike the Prizm, this purchase was more about choosing a car I thought was cute and fun to drive than it was about needing a car. The Mazda 3 hatchback isn't the nicest car out there, but it’s more than good enough for Laura.

The word “Mazda” derives from Ahura Mazda, the Avestan language name for a divinity that is the source of wisdom, intelligence and harmony. I trust this car will help me make wise decisions, complement the intelligence I possess and bring peace and harmony to me and anyone who comes along for a ride.

The current logo for Mazda was redesigned in 1997. The stylized “M” is meant to show how the company is stretching its wings for the future. The symbol also implies wings in flight and is sometimes referred to as the “owl” logo.

Because purchasing this car was a deliberate choice and actually means something to me, my tendency is to make a connection with it. I am now going to tap into my art history training and attempt to draw every connection imaginable between me and what I (and the internet) know to be true about owls.

Owls are nocturnal.
Lately, I have been known to be nocturnal.

Owls are inner-knowing, have psychic ability and intuition.
I often pretend like I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I usually do. I’ve also been known to have premonition dreams.

Owls are seers and keepers of souls transitioning from one plane of existence to another.
I have married off several roommates and ushered others into a new place in their life.

Owls are the messengers of secrets.
I know so many secrets I forget who I’m not supposed to tell what.

Owls have heightened senses and are always aware of their surroundings
I get cold easily. I’m also very sensitive to my environment. Ask my roommates. I can tell if something has moved, changed, or if it’s filthy. And I’ve always been really good at that game where you show me a tray of objects and then take them away and ask me to list what I saw.

Owls have a way of seeing through pretence.
Totally.

In conclusion, the Mazda and I are a good fit. I hope we have many happy and trouble free years together. We’ll have to give you a ride sometime.

Dream Sequence Sunday

I thought this one appropriate for this week, since I just got a new car.

Monday, November 5, 2001

I was going out of town on vacation and for some reason Andy needed to borrow my car. So I said he could, because I wasn't going to need it. I come back from vacation and I go to his house to get my car (he was living in Draper with his family). I go to their front yard and he's out front with my car and my dad's car was there too (apparently I let him use that one as well. I'm so generous). Only my car was trashed. It was filthy, it had little dents all over and scratches. He didn't seem too apologetic, but he acknowledged that it was his fault.

I didn't act too upset, maybe because I was just in shock at how bad my car looked. I asked him what happened and he said he took it on a road trip to South America. I remember thinking, "Did I tell you that you could take it on a road trip?" Anyway, my dad's car was beat up too, but not as bad as mine. I think he let his sister use my dad's. Like I said, I didn't get real mad, and I didn't seem to expect him to pay for it because I thought, "This is going to cost me a lot of money."

He took me home in my car and I told him to bring my dad's car later. He told me not to tell his dad about this because he'd get real mad at him.

Dream Sequence Sunday

It is not my intention to publish these exclusively for the next 6 weeks. Hopefully I'll find something to write about during the week.

Judging from the date of this journal entry, it was right before I moved back home with about $400 to my name. The closing scene kills me because only in my subconscious would I behave that way. But the rest totally sounds like me.


Thursday, September 28, 2000

I was getting ready to go back to BYU. I had a full schedule and I had no idea what my classes were, but I was printing it out. School started the next day, but I had all these other things to take care of. Erin wanted me to come work at Food For Thought again so I thought I could help her out in the mornings and afternoons when I wasn't in class. But when she sent me my work schedule, she had me working 38-40 hours a week. So that stressed me out. Plus, it came with a note saying how glad she was to have me back and how much she needed me.

Also, for some reason I felt I needed to work part time at the bank. So I go to the bank (where I used to work apparently) and the women there (who was my old YW President) had told the boss not to hire me again because she didn't get along with me (which is strange because she always loved me). Anyway, so that made me way mad. I remember someone I was with holding me back because I was yelling at her.

Somehow I was supposed to do all this and drive down to Provo with my mom's car. Who knew how she'd get around.

Dream Sequence Sunday

I've been sifting through my old journals lately. For about 5 years I wrote almost every day. A couple things stood out to me as I skimmed through my entries. First: I've been on a LOT of blind dates. Second: I recorded most of my dreams. I should do that again. So for the next little while, I'll be posting a dream once a week. Straight from my journal. Not all of them of course. After all, blogs are for things you're only slightly ashamed of.


Thursday, March 15, 2001

For some reason, 'NSYNC was recording an album at my house. My whole family was there and we all thought it was pretty cool. Lance was talking to me during their breaks. Somehow, word got out that they were at our house so when we found out that reporters from all over were coming, we decided to escape to the cabin. So we took about 5 cars up there. I went separately in my car. I got delayed on some detour so I lost track of everybody.

When I got there (by the way, it did NOT look like our cabin) there were weird people there with stone-cold faces. Some girl let me in like she was expecting me. I felt like Dorothy when she first enters Oz. About 3 girls were watching TV on the couch. The phone rang and when I answered it a voice said, "Is Angie there? This is Leah." So out loud I say, "Angie?" Just then one of the girls on the couch turns around and says, "I'm Angie." Only it was my friend Marni. I looked at her like, "What are you doing?" and she looked at me like, "Laura, play along. You make one false move and we die." And then I looked at the other people, the whole time thinking "What have you done with 'NSYNC?"

That's all I remember.

On Quitting...and self importance

A few years ago my mom took me to lunch at Biaggi’s. She told me she was quitting her job with the virtuoso series at the University because she didn't care about it that much anymore and she wanted to focus on being a grandma. I wondered how she could do that because she had started that series – she’d put her heart and soul into it. At first I saw it as a baby she birthed and now she was just abandoning it. But she seemed totally cool with it. And so I thought, “Good for you.”

A colleague called me today to tell me she was proud of me. Why is she proud of me? Because as of January 1, I resigned as Program Director and left her alone to deal with the Gallery Stroll. Well, that’s my perspective. I was dreading the "I quit" meeting. Fortunately this person really cares about me so the conversation was virtually painless. She said she’s proud of me for following my heart rather than enduring something that was weighing me down. I know I torture myself to some degree by enduring undesirable situations (because I'm strong, I can handle it), but this past year I think I really did a number on myself. She told me I had been sighing a lot lately and taking breaks before answering questions she asked me. I had NO idea I did that.

I kind of feel bad for anyone who’s had to deal with me since September – maybe even July. I feel like I’ve been scattered, distracted and selfish. I don’t think I let it seep into my behavior too much (I just spelled behavior with a “u” until spell check got me) but come late September I think my brain had just about had it and told my body “you take it from here.” Instead of shutting down and going into a deep hibernation my body opted for “fight or flight” (probably because my brain gave up its voting rights) and I’ve been awake for about 3 months now. OK, not really. But for a couple weeks I thought not sleeping was killing me. Unfortunately I had no one to fight and nowhere to flee. I remember lying on the floor one Sunday morning, resentfully awake but equally disengaged in anything going on around me. I was aware enough to acknowledge an infomercial about stress and simplifying your life that was on TV before the Sunday morning session of General Conference. After several minutes of passive listening I looked up to my roommate Annie and said, “I think I’m going to quit the Gallery Stroll.” I don’t remember what she said because I was completely self absorbed at the time, but what was going through my mind was “How can I simplify my life and focus on the things that really matter to me right now?”

I thought back to my lunch with Mom as I contemplated quitting something I had nurtured back to health, something I developed and grew for the past eight years. I wasn’t so much worried about what would happen to the organization if I left, it would be fine without me, but it has become a large part of who I am and a lot of the people I know identify me with that organization. I guess one of my fears was that's why people liked me.

For the past three years (wow, that long) I’ve been part of a discussion group. We talk about important things as well as inane ideas – whatever the group fancies and plans for.

One of our discussions was about the Great Depression. The Depression was difficult for those who lost their jobs not only financially, but because back then, your occupation was your identity. When your life’s work is what supports your family and determines how people view you and how you view yourself, and then you lose that, I can see how it devastated many individuals. Today things are a little different. Many people have 3 or 4 jobs, or they change jobs every 5-10 years.

Before our group opens a discussion we go around the room and introduce ourselves (we get newbies all the time). The month following the Depression topic I paid close attention to how people introduced themselves. They always said their name and what they did for a living. The next month I suggested we not mention our occupation, but share what’s currently on our mind or what we’re passionate about. Instead of polite follow up questions and nods of approval the room came to life with genuine excitement as people shared their current interests, obsessions and passions. It’s amazing how you get to know a person more intimately when you ask them what they truly care about rather than how they make their money. I may not remember what everyone does for a living, but I know Mark was having nightmares about zombies, Brian was obsessed with raw milk, and Spence was in love with the clouds. Last month, I couldn't stop thinking about everything I wanted to mix into fudge.

A lot of these people I sit and talk with once a month have prestigious degrees. They have a lot of influence and high impact projects they do for work. I used to be intimidated by them. But now that I see more about who they truly are, I know they’re not necessarily what they seem. Their accomplishments don’t make them who they are – it’s their loves and passions, their insecurities and nightmares. And that’s why I love them.

So I’m excited about quitting the Gallery Stroll. It has delighted me long enough (that’s for you, Mom). Hopefully I’ll be sighing less and smiling more. I’m on a bit of a spree as I quit one of my church callings last week and I still have to quit one other side job.

Sigh. I feel better already.

Cousins

I just counted all the days in December I was with my family and I got 12. Those are official, countable events, not just drop bys. That's a lot by the way. That's at least 3 days a week. Fortunately, my family not only loves each other, we genuinely like each other. Even the in-laws. We got lucky there. Speaking of in-laws, only one of the girls in the picture above isn't a cousin, and that's because she married my brother. If you don't know my family, there's no way you can pick her out. She blends right in with the Christensen cousins.

Most of my cousins live in the Salt Lake Valley so I get to see them year round, but others either returned after living far away or visited for the holidays.

I was lucky enough to have cousins my age that I grew up with. We were not only cousins, we were friends. We took ballet classes together, we went to each others birthday parties and we played at each others houses (see here and here).

I didn't really have any good friends until college. The friends I had in high school were just people to hang out with. I didn't feel like they really knew me or understood me or had much in common with me. So cousins were good for me. I always had friends around.


It's fun getting older and getting to know some of my younger cousins on the same level that I knew my "peer" cousins growing up. Just yesterday I got together with my cousins Liz and Sam for breakfast. Sam is several years younger than I am but now that she's an adult it's fun to see her get married, how much she's accomplished with work and just her character. I'm proud of her and I'm glad she and her husband still live close.

Last Monday we had a Durham Christmas Party at my Aunt Linda's house. I actually considered not going because I felt like I'd had a lot of family togetherness. But mostly because I'd had a pretty bad day and thought I didn't want to see anybody. But I went and was immediately greeted by one of my cousins and I immediately thought, "Oh yeah, I really love these guys." I was put into a better mood instantaneously. And then we sat down and had a casual dinner. I sat by my cousin Monica (see below).

Monica is one of my oldest cousins on my dad's side. We're about 8 or 9 years apart so I didn't really know her growing up, but now that we're both grown up, it's been fun to talk to her. This picture is of us on a bus in London. We were both tagalongs with the Utah Chamber Artists Tour (I came with my mom, she came with her sister) so we got to spend a lot of time together while the choir rehearsed. The trip wouldn't have been the same without her there.

We had such a great time at that party just talking to each other. I'm so blessed to have wonderful, talented, intelligent, and fun people as relatives. We talked about having a cousin getaway. I hope we do that.

Remember when sitcoms would get lazy and instead of writing a new episode they'd throw together a retrospective? They'd pick a theme and then find all the clips that fit that theme. That's kind of what I did for the first hour I sat at my computer. You probably wouldn't have noticed, but in the right column, I revised my personal picks and added a few other categories because when I don't feel like writing on my blog, I visit memory lane and read old posts. I wasn't going to post anything new but I forced myself because one of my 2011 goals is to blog more and facebook less. I need to get back into writing, I'm out of practice. If my posts are boring for awhile, it's because I'm making myself do this.

*I will say one good thing about Facebook: It's helped me get to know some of my older cousins (and their spouses) that I didn't really get to know when I was little. Now we have more specific questions to ask each other when we do get together.

Things That Make Me Smile

A photographer currently showing at my gallery sent me this photograph that he took, simply because he thought I'd like it. I love that, and I love this.

Besides the fact that it's a great photograph (color, composition, etc), I like the context. The construction downtown is a constant complaint of city dwellers and those who visit downtown. Besides the few detours and the limited parking, it hasn't really bothered me, I'm excited for the end result.

What I love about this photo is the way the city is attempting to make downtown a pleasurable experience for the pedestrian in the meantime. I know there's usually money motivating the city and the Downtown Alliance to "dress up downtown" (I should know, I go to the meetings every month), but it still makes me smile.

Here are some other things I've seen recently that make me smile:

• People humming along to choirs singing Christmas carols
• A guy running up to a door so he can open it for the lady a few yards ahead of them
• People smiling as they read a text message
• Little kids holding hands as they cross the street
• When a guy moves to the street facing side of the sidewalk as he’s walking with a girl – to protect her from traffic
• People shoveling off the snow covering the car next to theirs while they’re at it
• Thank you cards in the mail
• People with a full grocery cart allowing the person behind them to cut ahead and purchase their one item.

Yes, LAURA, there is a Parking Santa Claus

---

From: Laura Durham
Sent: Monday, December 06, 2010 2:36 PM
To: UCS Appeals
Subject: Dear Parking Santa:

I wish to appeal my parking ticket.

You should understand my only grounds for appeal is the fact that I didn't pay attention and I put my 2 quarters in the meter NEXT to my car. The meter that already had 20 minutes on it for the white SUV. I don't know what I was thinking, except the fact that I needed to run into Gardner Hall as fast as I could and deliver something for a concert tonight. You see, I'm a volunteer, and I took an hour off from work to make this delivery.

When I jumped out of my car with my 2 quarters I brought for this exact parking occasion, I felt very prepared and at perfect ease for having enough time to make my delivery. So when I climbed back into my car I was shocked to see the ticket on my windshield -- until I realized what happened.

I'm not expecting much, but I thought I would try. It would make my holiday season to not have to pay for being a volunteer. But if you can't do anything for me, I'll consider this $15 a Christmas present to the owner of the car next to me who might have gotten my ticket had I not fed its meter.

Merry Christmas,

Laura

>>> UCS Appeals 12/07/10 8:03 AM >>>

Good Morning Laura,

Would you send me your ticket information and license plate number so I can check into this further?

Thanks,

Suzy//Appeals

---

From: Laura Durham [ldurham@utah.gov]
Sent: Tuesday, December 07, 2010 8:21 AM
To: UCS Appeals
Subject: RE: Dear Parking Santa:

Sure Suzy,

My ticket number is 1310003472.

Kind Officer #32
Lot L35 Row 1 Presidents Circle (I got an excellent spot)

Time Issued 13:38
Meter #79

My license number is xxx xxx

---

APPEALS RESPONSE

University of Utah
Commuter Services

APPROVED No further action is required on your behalf.

Your appeal to waive the meter violation is granted. Because this is your first citation I have changed it to a warning.

Have a great day,

Suzy//Appeals

I WILL have a great day :)

Wow, I never even thought of trying to appeal a parking ticket before. Looks like it pays to be on the "nice" list. Who says meter maids are the worst of all, having hearts that are two sizes too small? That was me. I take it back. My heart grew three sizes today. I have the positivity of *ten* Lauras, plus two!

Cioccolato

I love dessert. I love eating dessert. I love making dessert. I love ordering dessert.

And 9 times out of 10, when I eat/make/order dessert, it's chocolate. For the longest time, dessert wasn't dessert unless it was chocolate. For awhile I've been trying to branch out and try new things, but my heart is still drawn to chocolate.

I've been living in downtown Salt Lake City for the past 6 years and I've eaten at a lot of restaurants and bakeries. I recently went to My Dough Girl (I had a free cookie card) and I got my favorite cookie -- the Margo. The Margo was the first cookie I bought there, but since then I decided to give the other cookies a try. But after my second Margo I decided I have a favorite and I should be loyal to it.

Here is a list of my favorite (chocolate) things you can find in Salt Lake City:

The Margo -- My Dough Girl

Is that cookie sitting next to lettuce? Is that supposed to be a garnish? Oh, wait...it's probably mint. Yeah, that's what it is. Whew. So I was sold on the Margo because it combines chocolate with two of my favorite chocolate side-kicks: cinnamon and mint. You might have heard me say everything is better with cinnamon. I love it. I put it on my yogurt, I put it in my hot chocolate, oatmeal, applesauce, mmm...cinnamon. I also love chocolate and mint. Chocolate mint brownies are easily the first thing I grab for if I'm presented with an array of pastries at a party or reception. But if a plate of Margos were sitting there as well, I'd take a Margo for sure.


Bittersweet Chocolate Pudding -- Cafe Trio

My sister recommended this dessert to me. By the way, none of the pictures beginning with this one belong specifically to the restaurant I attribute them to. I just got them on Google. Anyway, the bittersweet chocolate pudding was the most delicious pudding I've ever had. And I don't really like pudding. But it was blissfully rich, creamy and decadent. And it came with biscotti.


Raspberry Chocolate Gelato -- Dolcetti's

I have actually never been to Dolcetti's, and I've never paid for their gelato, but the owner is an artist friend of mine. I've had samples of his gelato on several occasions. He comes to my discussion group. Our November discussion was at his home and he provided gelato for everyone. I wasn't feeling well and didn't really feel like eating ice cream, but I decided to have a taste of the raspberry chocolate. It was glorious, and I will happily pay for an actual serving the next chance I get.


Molten Chocolate Lava Cake -- Faustina

On Saturday night, several of us girls went with Annie to a carefree dinner at Faustina -- a final dinner of sorts before she gets married this weekend. I not only had a delicious meal (gorgonzola stuffed beef tenderloin) but I splurged again on dessert. I loved every super rich bite of it before I could eat no more. This is in my top three desserts. I decided that after my best meal ever at the Chart House in Virginia.

So I covered cakes, cookies, ice cream and pudding. There's a gaping hole here for hot chocolate. I may fill that hole after the annual "Daddy Lights Tour" where my dad leads a family caravan around the city to see the best Christmas lights before we retire at the surprise location where the "best" hot chocolate is. Past hot chocolate spots have included The Garden Restaurant, Starbucks, The Cocoa Cafe (closed down), The Nordstrom Cafe, and Aunt Suzi and Jill's house. Both of my aunts merely provided a location for my dad to make Laura Bush's hot chocolate recipe (funny, I know). It's actually really tasty. I attribute it to the orange zest and of course, the cinnamon. Oh, and salt! You have to have salt. It can't be too sweet or you're missing out on chocolate in it's purest sense. There's something about salted chocolate that is irresistible.

"Flats are for quitters"

I remember working at the LRC at BYU. I typically wore shoes with a bit of a heel. One day I came in tennis shoes and everyone was shocked at how short I was. I felt like I had been living a lie. I usually wear heels to church, but a few weeks ago I wore some black flats and when I got up to teach Sunday School, I found myself standing on my tippy toes to look over the podium. I felt like a little girl.

I love wearing heels, I like feeling taller and they’re good for my posture (and make walking uphill and stairs easier) but something has happened. I don’t know whether it’s current fashion trends or ten hour work days that make flats more appealing.

I do know that once I started working ten hour days I was in denial about putting shoes on that early in the morning. It would be snowing outside, I would be wearing nice slacks and I would be walking around in flip flops as I ate my breakfast at 6:30 AM. I ended up just wearing them to work sometimes (don't worry, I kept some nicer shoes at my desk).

Earlier this spring I bought those yellow Steve Madden flats you see pictured above. I had no idea I'd end up wearing them as much as I did -- at least two days a week -- even if they didn’t really match my outfit. I didn’t care. They were as easy as flip flops making them a good alternative. So I decided to buy them in red to give the yellow pair a break. And now you’ll usually see me wearing red or yellow flats. They’re just so dang comfy.

You may remember my purple wedges from before. They’re not EXACTLY flats, but they’re flattish. My sister recently told me all my shoes are the same. They’re not. I just wear my flats lately. According to 30 Rock’s Avery Jessup, that makes me a quitter.

And then this past Monday came and I found myself walking around in my yellow flats in cold, wet slushy snow and I realized the weather is dictating a turn in what I should be wearing on my feet -- something that maybe raises them above the wet ground a little more. I’m going to have to pick up my feet and give other shoes a try.

Anyone have boot recommendations?

This is Halloween

If you have not been to my house or talked to me in the past month, you probably haven't heard about my Halloween tree. I love my Halloween tree. It all started back in September when I was walking home from church and saw a dead branch that had fallen from a tree along the street. I literally stood there for 2 or 3 minutes and stared at it thinking, "I want this branch." I seriously thought if I didn't take it home with me right then and there someone else would come along and take it because it was the coolest dead branch I had ever seen. It would be perfect to hang little ghosts and bats on for Halloween and put outside my door. I don't have a picture of it, so you'll have to come to my house and see it.

Anyway. I had so much fun making the bats that I decided to take the craft on the road and make them with my friend's first grade class. I try to visit Miss Sorenson's Class once a year -- usually in the fall. I love her class because the kids tell me I'm pretty and give me hugs just because I'm there. Plus, every time I go we sing (Kristi's lucky enough to have a piano in her classroom and she teaches them all sorts of songs).

So this morning we made bats -- and ghosts for those who wanted to be different.

First you trace the bat:

Then you cut it out:


Then you glue a clothespin:


And put another bat cutout on top and, TA DA! You can clip that bat wherever you want.


Kristi has her class all decorated for Halloween and almost didn't let them take their bats home because they'd look so cute in the classroom, but in the end, they were allowed to put them in their cubbies.


This is Kristi getting the class ready to watch Rigoletto before singing time. Maybe it puts them in the singing mood.

One of my favorite parts is the question and answer period where today I got questions such as:

Why is your hair different colors?
(I got it highlighted a couple weeks ago)

Do you like science?

Do you do science?
(I asked them if they thought I was a scientist because I was wearing glasses to which they all replied "yes" and nodded).

Where do you work? and my favorite...

Why do you work?

Most of these kids are minorities and English is their second language. Some of the kids asked Kristi if I was her sister because they thought we looked alike. Kristi said they think we look alike because we're both white.

Check out Miss Sorenson's blog.

Trick or Treat

A FB friend posted this today and I couldn't resist. I'm going to have to buy a Clark Bar and a Twix so they can have it out...

I'm just as surprised as you are that Boston Baked Beans made it that far. Necco wafers didn't stand a chance though.

And honestly, I have no idea what an Abba-Zabba or a Zero Bar is. But I hate Good & Plentys so I figured a Zero Bar had to be better than candy coated black licorice.

If you want to do your own: http://www.azcentral.com/ic/pdf/candy-bracket.pdf

Grandma's House

I got a call at 7:37 this morning. Unfortunately, with my work schedule that’s not a bad time to reach me.

“Laura?"
“Hi Grandma.”
“Did I wake you?”
“No, I’m just on my way out.”
“You know that furry scarf I gave you?”
“Yes."
“I shouldn’t have given that to you.”
“OK.”
“I can give you another scarf for it.”
“Grandma you don’t have to buy it from me, you can just have it back.”
“No, no, I want you to have something else.”

Grandma actually gave me several things last night. She called me last week to ask if I wanted a chair. I told her I would come check it out.

In a couple weeks my 90 year-old grandmother is moving out of her house and into an assisted living facility. It’s a little sad because she’s lived in that house my entire life. It’s “Grandma’s House”. When I walked in last night it smelled like her house and I immediately started to miss that smell.

Unfortunately the chair she was talking about is way too big for my house. She tried to give me a couple other chairs but they’re too big too. I asked if I could have the smaller rocking chair but she said someone else already asked if they could have it. I guess I arrived kind of late in the game. Most things already had beneficiaries. Grandma made it very clear that my father gets the Doug Snow painting and Carter gets the piano. In fact, she makes that clear every time I talk to her. I don't really like claiming things of hers right now anyway. She's still here. When I was little and my great grandma Eddith was alive, she would have us put our names on things in her house all the time. It felt funny. And after she died it was all arbitrary. I don't think I saw anything I put my name on anyway.

Grandma Durham continued to walk me around her house telling me who gets what. I admired a small table over by her sliding glass doors.

"This is nice" I said,
"Oh, I think that's from that one place. You know the funny store where you put things in boxes."

Somehow I knew exactly what she meant. "IKEA?"

"Yes! IJEA," she said.

We went into her kitchen where she gave me some food because I came straight from work. I had some nuts, yogurt and cheese. I meant to write that in order to express the random food she feeds me, but as I finished typing that I realized it isn't much different than what I would feed myself at home if I didn't feel like making an actual meal. I told her I was tired and couldn't stay very long. And then she began to tell me a story.

It was a story about a man who takes her on walks. And how he told her that his mother died. Apparently he was Catholic -- an irrelevant detail, but most of them are. She asked how he was doing and he said he would be fine. She was concerned at his lack of emotion over the whole thing. I think my mind started to wander, but when I came back she said something about a woman who never laughed and never cried.

"And do you know where she ended up?" Grandma asked,
"A mental facility?" I ventured.
"A mental facility. Now you can go."

Is Grandma trying to send me a message? Does she think I never cry? I immediately stopped asking myself questions and before I could go I found myself looking at scarves.

She tried to give me several but I turned them down. I did choose one that I might wear. Grandma called it "quiet but elegant." I also got a scarf with race cars on it. Why? I don't know. At this point I had abandoned the thought of "usefulness" and began to consider the fact that it's nice to have something of Grandma's and it's nice to have costume accessories.

"Do you like nightgowns?" she asked.
"No, not really."
"That's too bad because I have a lot of really nice nightgowns. But girls your age just wear tee shirts to bed don't they."
"Yeah..."

I began looking through her nightgowns because she was so proud of them.

"Oh, that one is a Christian Dior. I bought that when I thought I was going to marry Phil Richards. Remember Phil Richards?"

As we walked out into the hallway I noticed what looked like an old photograph on the wall by her bedroom.

"Who are they?" I asked
"That is my mother and her niece when they were little girls. Do you like that?"
"Yes, I do."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't know, I guess I like old photographs."
"Take it."
"OK."
"Do you think it will be worth something some day or something?"
"It's worth something to me right now."
"Aren't you cute."

Yes, yes I am. I have no idea where I'm going to put it. Not in a public space in my house -- that has been established. Because of the Victorian nature of the photograph what with the white dresses, blank, emotionless expressions, it is a little eerie if looked at in the wrong light. One of my roommates expressed if she sees it at night she'll think they're ghosts that used to live in this house. Somehow I understand. So Hettie Pearl Turnbow Divers and her niece will have to stay in my room where I know they're not ghosts.

Grandma asked if I collected Lladros, which I don't. But I do collect angels.

Grandma told me I could have her angel Lladro. And then she told me the story that comes with it. So here's the story, almost verbatim:

"There once was a man who lived close by. When he was very ill I would go over there and say to his wife 'Get out of here!' and then she would leave and I would read to him. I read St. Petersburg to him. And do you know what he told his wife? He told his wife, 'When I die, I want Betty to have this angel, because she's my angel."

I told Grandma I would happily take the angel. And I would call her Betty (after her). And that just tickled her to no end. I knew it would.

Bad Scores

I love film music. I own many, many soundtracks, some of which are to movies I've never seen and have no intention of seeing, but I own them because I'm familiar with the composer and can bet that it's going to be good music.

Some of my favorite film composers:

Elmer Bernstein (To Kill a Mockingbird, The Age of Innocence)

Alexandre Desplat (The Painted Veil, The Ghost Writer, The Queen)

Patrick Doyle (Sense and Sensibility, Much Ado About Nothing, Gosford Park)

James Newton Howard (All of M. Night Shyamalan's movies, King Kong, The Dark Knight)

In fact, if you ever want to do something nice for me, buy me a good soundtrack for my collection :)

It's amazing what a good score can do for a movie. And what makes a score "good" (for me) is music that was clearly recorded with a live orchestra (that's the only way James Newton Howard does it) and it tells a story along with the writing. It doesn't intrude on or distract from the scene, but it enhances it. If the score is good, it's something you'll want to listen to over and over again, independent of the movie it was written for.

You know how some movies are re-released with additional scenes or they're digitally remastered or a studio recolored an old black and white film? People pay money to go back to the theatre and see these movies again with their "upgrades." What I'm wondering is if people would go back and see a movie if it was re-scored. Because I'm telling you, there are some good movies out there that did not budget for an original score -- at least a good one.

Let me give you some examples of a couple movies I love that deserve better music:

1) The Princess Bride (by Mark Knopfler)

Some if it's OK and suited to the Fairy Tale aspect of the story, but the synthesizer drives me nuts, especially toward the end of the movie.

2) A Few Good Men (by Mark Shaiman)

First of all, I looked it up and the CD only has 10 tracks, so Shaiman didn't write a whole lot for this movie. And the music seems really dated. I don't know if it's the composer's fault or 1992's fault. There's this one scene in particular where the music makes me roll my eyes. It's where Tom Cruise goes after Demi Moore who stormed out and started walking in the rain. He tries to convince her to get in the car and then this stupid music comes out of nowhere. It's forced and it's ridiculous.

I'm not sure how expensive it would be, or if it would be worth it to re-release movies with better music, but I would buy a ticket.

Here are some examples of some of my favorite film scores:

(FYI, my favorite track from The Village is this one)

I love that Patrick Doyle wrote a piano piece for this movie. And he uses it as an actual piano piece but it also adds to the mood and the story.

Last but not least, the music that accompanies the opening credits to my favorite movie. Not only is the music beautiful, everything about this movie is beautiful. I wish I could find the actual opening credits, but I can't.

Anyone else have favorite film scores you'd recommend (I have about 25)? Or movies with terrible ones that you'd like to see re-scored?

Oh, and if you want a CD of selections from all my favorite movie soundtracks, I have a playlist I can burn for you.

A Lesson on Efficiency (Distraction)

Things I’ve completed in the last 2.5 hours since I sat down at my computer with the intention to work on my Sunday School lesson (in sequential order):

1. Straightened my hair
2. Watched an episode of Veronica Mars
3. Thumbed through a Real Simple magazine
4. Looked at pictures of the wedding dress Annie picked out
5. Downloaded the soundtrack to “Unbreakable”
6. Contacted a friend I haven’t seen for 4 years
7. Put a topcoat on my toenails that I painted yesterday morning
8. Realized I’ve only eaten one real meal a day all weekend
9. Ate a pickle and a wheel of cheese
10. Posted on my blog

Needy

Coming back to work after being away for awhile is hard. Especially in the summer when I can wake up and say, "I really don't NEED to be at work today." You see, things tend to slow down in the summer, and I work much better when I'm busy. Yet I have to be here ten freakin hours a day.

Lately I've had little vacations that exposed me to a workless life which made coming back to the office even harder. I've spoiled myself the past little while with mini vacations. Driving back from California on Sunday I would look out the window and say, "Let's stay in Vegas" and then, "Why don't we just spend the night in St. George" or, "Anyone want to check into a hotel in Cedar City and see a play?"

I even planned ahead for my unwillingness to return to work and scheduled an ALL DAY Adobe Illustrator class for myself on my first day back (yesterday) so I wouldn't have to go to the office right after my vacation. But putting off the inevitable only lasts so long, so this morning I had no choice but to pull into the back of my building and prepare for another day at work.

A couple weeks ago my bishop pulled me into his office to talk about my calling (I'm a Gospel Doctrine instructor). He made a random comment that I haven't really thought about until today. He told me God has a way of providing you with what you need.

Because of the following, what I was expecting to be a hum drum day, wishing I wasn't here, was actually not so bad after all:

1. Lila reminded me that we had an appointment in the morning to tour the Jim Jones exhibit at O.C. Tanner. Even if there wasn't beautiful artwork to look at, I just loved walking around in that old building which is now O.C. Tanner's flagship store. If I couldn't have the building for myself, I'm glad someone with money got it so they could honor it's history and renovate it right.

2. We're in between exhibits right now and while I was gone yesterday Fletcher had been taking down the Design show in the gallery. One of my favorite things about my job is the people I get to see every day. Whether he's bringing me chocolate leftover from his committee meetings or pointing out that the only letters he left on the title wall were the ones that spell my name, Fletcher can always make me smile.

3. When you work with a lot of annoying artists with entitlement issues, you tend to stereotype them a bit. When you complain about how they never pick up their artwork you grow impatient. But today, a lady whose painting I've been holding onto for over a month came in with some cards she made as an apology for not picking up her work sooner. That was sweet.

4. Last but not least: I got a large envelope in my box today and inside was a certificate telling me I got an award for outstanding public service! A little ironic since I don't feel like my work has been outstanding lately (truthfully it's probably my attitude that hasn't been outstanding), but someone had to nominate me for this award. So the fact that someone in this state of Utah thinks I'm outstanding makes me feel good. AND I got two free tickets to my choice of production at Hale Center Theatre. I refuse to purchase tickets to Hale for reasons I'll explain if you want to ask me about it, but they do a good job so I'll take a free ticket. I think I want to see the Drowsy Chaperone...and I will be taking bribes for the other ticket.

I guess what I'm trying to say is on a day when I came in planning my escape, I got what I needed to make it through to 6 PM. Tomorrow should be OK too. I hate to wish the summer away, but I'm really looking forward to September when things pick up again.

That stupid apricot cost me $6

Living in the “Marmalade District” on Apricot Avenue sounds all quaint and romantic until the apricots from the neighbor’s tree fall all over your driveway leaving a mushy mess. I came back from a 3 day vacation to find that my car has served as a shield for the driveway. I was able to remove most of them, but there were streaks of apricot on all my windows – not to mention one half baked apricot on the hood of my car that wouldn’t come off without me sacrificing the general cleanliness of my hands -- and I wasn’t willing to go back inside and get the proper supplies to remove it. I stood and thought that maybe it would come off in the wind, but then I looked at my watch and decided I had time to go through a car wash. I needed gas anyway.

I am generally opposed to drive-thru car washes for some reason I can’t explain. I prefer to do it myself with the hose and a bucket of sudsy water. The gas pump asked me what kind of car wash I wanted – only it didn’t tell me the difference in price and I had a hard time distinguishing which was more expensive “Super”, “Supreme” or “Premium”. I went with super; ironically, it sounded the least “super” out of all of them. I just wanted that stupid apricot off my hood.

I got my receipt and saw that my choice of car wash was $6. Is that expensive? I don’t know. Like I said, I usually wash mine myself (and don’t get me started on the “pre wash” buckets they have outside the automatic car washes. If you want me to pay you to wash my car, why are you asking me to do it myself before I go in? Geez).

I sat with anticipation inside the carwash, eyeing that apricot and waiting for the high pressure hoses to blow that sucker off my hood. Nope, it was holding strong. Dangit. “Maybe when I go through the dryer at the end it will shove that apricot off” I thought. Well, it kind of did. It got the majority of the fruit off, but now I have a streak of apricot flesh in it’s place. If I had time to take it off I would have, but I had to get to a class. And now, I am picturing the sun dehydrating that apricot into a nice strip of fruit leather on my car out in the unsheltered parking lot.

Looks like it’s going to be a battle to see who gets the unfortunate spot on the driveway for awhile.

(note: that picture above is not from my house. It's from Google)

Before I send them to the virtual landfill...

I just got a notice that my mailbox is 91% full and I need to clean it out. I went to my "sent mail" folder which I often neglect when it comes to deleting emails and I have stuff from 2005. Wow. That was before I had a blog! And before I had a blog, all my good stories were told to my friend Ilene via email. I've saved these over the years because there's good material in here. Here are a couple stories I shared with Ilene that I think are worth retelling. Or at least remembering.

6/1/2005

St. George

Maria and I went to St. George this past weekend. Mic (EQP) invited a bunch of people down to his condo. While we were there we visited a friend from our ward and his development. It's going to be a golf course and it will have 3500 houses as well. It's going to be called "Ledges". Sounds a little suicidal to me. The name, not the development, I'm sure he'll be very successful. He's a retired lawyer. He's thirty three and he's retired. And so he made all these good investments and now he's super rich.

So we go down to Mic's condo and there are about 17 people staying at this place. There are three bedrooms and two bathrooms. It was crazy. But it was fun. When we first got there everyone was just kind of crammed in the living room watching the huge plasma screen. Mic was flipping through the channels when he finally landed on the end of Predator. I've never seen Predator, but it was all pretty predictable to me. Maria and I were kind of playing the hecklers along with some other girls. Mic was like, "Don't give it away!" and we're all, "Um, we've never seen this before it's just predictable." I said something like, "I would love to see the script for this movie; it probably consists of twelve lines." Finally Mic says, "Man, you can't watch movies like Predator with girls."

Silence for about 3 seconds...

Random girl: "I wonder what Predator's mother is like..."

Steve-O

Steve is the ward's executive secretary. He called me on Thursday wondering if he could drive down with me and Maria. I was like, "Sure" especially since he wanted to drive. Steve was hilarious. He didn't bring any CDs to listen to because he'd rather have conversations. So every now and then he'd give us a topic of discusison and we would discuss. We talked about nicknames and how he prefers that we just call him Steve. His mother calls him Steven so we shouldn't. His buddies call him Steve-O but we shouldn't because that will destroy any possibilty of a romantic relationship in the future. And then occasionally he would turn on the radio. We'd listen to music and then he'd turn the radio down and say, "OK, now it's time for some quiet and self-reflection...just enjoy the silence and think of new topics of discussion." And then periodically he would turn down the radio and say, "All right, I think it's time for another evaluation of the trip. How are we doing? Anyone hungry? Cold? Any complaints?" The best though was when an 80's ballad would come on the radio and he would snap his fingers out of rhythm.

Each time we hit Utah County on the way there and back, he would get all tense, impatient and testy. He hates Utah County and he says it stresses him out. Our favorite game was when we'd change to 100.3 FM to listen to "Delilah". This is the soft rock station and people call in with their sappy stories and problems and Delilah acts all understanding and plays their requests. We would tune in during a song and guess what story a caller told that prompted the request for that song. We decided to play this after listening to this lady tell a 8-10 minute story about something really lame and then she requested "In my Father's Eyes." We were all hypnotized by the lameness of the story, waiting to hear what lame song she wanted to request and after the song played for 5 seconds, Steve shut the radio off and said, "Well. We could have saved ourselves a bunch of time and just listened to that on my CD."

And then I laughed for a good five minutes.