Impressionable

I’m going to begin by saying I’m fully prepared to embarrass myself in this post. But when balancing funny and embarrassing, funny usually wins out.

So I would consider myself a fairly impressionable person when it comes to certain things (I’m about a 5 on the jaded scale). If I admire someone, I follow by example most of the time. I’ll even start talking like them if I’m with them enough. And I can get sucked into stories, easily placing myself in roles – even when it comes to television. Characters can become so real to me.

About a year ago I initiated a very bad habit of watching DVDs on my portable, in my bed, right before bedtime. I started with seasons 1 and 2 of House, M.D. Great show. It became so much a part of my routine, and I got to know these characters so well and so quickly that I began to miss them when I was away. I fell in love with Dr. Chase a little bit. And I was so impressed by Dr. House’s genius and diagnostic abilities that I’m afraid if I were hospitalized at that time, and my real-life doctors were unable to figure out what was wrong with me I would demand to see Dr. House because he would go to the ends of the earth to discover my mystery illness. He wouldn’t give up on me. He would be mean to me, but he would save my life.

After I finished Season 2 of House, I suffered a little bit of separation anxiety but decided it was time to move on. So I began season 3 of The West Wing. I had already watched seasons 1 and 2 a couple times a couple years ago. I loved that show. In fact, that show is what drew me to Washington, D.C. a few years ago. I wanted to visit the White House and hang with the senior staff. Not our real-life senior staff. I wanted to hobnob with Martin Sheen, Rob Lowe and Allison Janney. They were cool. Of course they weren’t there.

Next came Felicity. I wasn’t sucked into this show as much as the others. But it did take me back to my college years. Not only because they were in college, but because I was in college when this show first came out. Memories flooded back to me and I remembered what finals week was like with all the stress and anxiety. So watching Feli every night became pretty regular. I was on an emotional roller coaster, hating Ben, loving Ben. I’ve since banned my portable DVD player from my bedtime routine.

Some shows I watch and I’m so taken with the protagonist and their exciting/glamorous life that I want to be like them. Take Alias for example. I wanted to be Sydney Bristow for years. Not really, but you know what I mean. She was so cool. She could speak dozens of languages, she was quick, smart, and she could scale buildings all over the world in all sorts of disguises. Being a spy looked so cool. AND Michael Vartan would do anything for her because he was hopelessly in love. I think I’ve seen seasons 1-3 of Alias at least twice. I know, it’s a wonder I get anything done. Somehow I manage.

Most of you know Lost is my favorite show, but Lost doesn’t have the same effect on me. It makes me happy and I get really excited about it, but I don’t place myself in their stories, nor do I think of them as my friends. Maybe because they’re all so messed up.

Here’s an embarrassing story: Right after college, a couple friends and I moved to Portland, Oregon. I don’t remember all the details of the story but we were talking about different places we would want to live. We discussed how it’s easier to move someplace if you know someone there. Someone mentioned they would like to move to D.C. sometime. Fortunately, I stopped myself but I ALMOST chimed in and said, “You know who just moved to D.C.? Julia.” Yeah, I was thinking of Julia Salinger on Party of Five. Her character made that announcement on the series finale I had recently watched.

My latest show is Veronica Mars. Veronica Mars is this totally awesome teenager who solves crimes. She’s way cooler than I ever was in high school, but I would like to think she would be my friend. We’d hang out at Neptune High, do our homework together and hop from caper to caper, bringing justice to criminals and helping the meek and unfortunate.

I watched about 4 episodes of V. Mars on Saturday afternoon. That night I went to dinner with some friends. Our waiter turned out to be a guy in our ward that we hadn’t seen in a long time. After he brought us our drinks we tried to figure out who his roommates were and where he had been. Because I just returned to reality from Neptune, California my first thought was to plant a bug on him when he took our order and then maybe solve the mystery by listening in on his conversations with other people.

I really can differentiate between television and reality – even if it is in the nick of time. Fortunately I do have a lot of real friends so I’m not that pathetic.

***change of topic***

At dinner Kristi and I reminisced about last year’s “perfect summer day”. It was so great. We went swimming at Jenn’s pool. We choreographed 8 counts of 4 of a synchronized swimming routine. And then we drove to the Burger Bar in Roy and sat out in the sun eating our hamburger and fries. Then we drove home, showered, went to Arctic Circle for a shake and then came back to my house and watched Les Mis in concert. It was the perfect summer day.

We talked about this upcoming summer. A bunch of us are getting Lagoon season passes. Maybe this year’s perfect summer day will be at Lagoon. A bunch of us will arrive in the early afternoon. We’ll ride the white roller coaster, the screamer; the samurai…things will be just peachy. But then maybe we’ll get in line for the jet star 2 and it will be shut down. Everyone will groan in disappointment but I’ll investigate. I’ll go up to the guy in the purple polo and ask him what’s up. He’ll be baffled and say “I don’t know, the ride just stopped” I’ll insist, “Rides don’t just stop, something must have gone wrong.” And then he’ll be all, “Go find another ride little girl” and then we’ll continue with snide remarks for a brief period before I decide it’s time to take matters into my own hands. I’ll visit the security office (I’ll happen to have a friend who works there). He’ll help me out by following the jet star 2 guy with close camera surveillance. In the meantime, I’ll be sifting through this guy’s outgoing text messages (I swiped his phone when he wasn’t looking). I’ll find a couple cryptic exchanges between him and some guy named Rocko. I’ll send a quick text back to Rocko telling him to meet me at the Terror Ride. Other strange things will occur, but long story short, my friends will take stations outside the Terror Ride entrance, we’ll surround this Rocko character, my security buddy will frisk him and he and jet star 2 guy will get busted for drug trafficking. Now that the mystery is solved, my friends and I will hit Pioneer Village for some ice cream cones, have our ride on the jet star 2 and it will be the perfect summer day.

Choose Your Own Mayan Adventure

Saturday night I had the opportunity to go to the Mayan to watch a friend dive. I heard the food wasn't that great, so I wasn't expecting a lot. I thought it would be fun to mostly watch the diving, because how awesome is that? A diving show while you eat dinner?

Apparently it's so awesome that we had to wait an hour for our table. But not awesome enough that they fill all the tables in the restaurant. Seriously, when we were shown to our table there were about four other tables in our area without a dinner party. So when our waiter left, we got up and moved to a spot with a better view of the divers.

Do you want to:

a) see the divers dive
b) talk to the Mayan priestess
c) eat the fish tacos (scroll down)

So I wasn't expecting the food to be that great, but when we got the chips, they were nice and toasty warm, and the salsa wasn't bad, so my expectations improved. And I was told the current chef either worked at a Cafe Rio or was in charge of a Cafe Rio, and Cafe Rio ain't that bad. Because I have a thing about ordering fish when I go out, I ordered the fish tacos. I ate about one and a half of them.

I heard the burritos were good, but the guy who ordered the fajitas said there wasn't enough meat. Just as an FYI. Oh, Steph ordered the beef burrito and asked for carne asada. The waiter said they didn't have any. Steph pointed to the special which was a chimichanga or something with "carne asada." He said those come pre-made. Nice. I guess that is special. I wonder how much they inflated Costco's wholesale price.

Do you want to:

a) meet an honest to goodness diver
b) meet a stone lion
c) meet a parrot (scroll down)

I kind of felt like I was at Disneyland in the Tikki Room or something. There were fake birds everywhere, sounds of running water and island music. And people speaking to you in a strange language. It was a good time. But we all decided if we were to go back, we would bring small children.

Journal Gem #1

Sunday, May 26 2002

6:37 PM

The Cabin

Midway, UT

I went home yesterday for a little while and then realized there was nothing to eat, so I went to Chili's and got a Caribbean Pita. I was craving that and french fries all day. I've never been so excited to eat anything.

I tried to find a birthday present for Lisa, but I couldn't find anything that I thought she'd really like. So, as I was putting her clothes away that I borrowed I just kept cleaning until I took EVERYTHING off her floor, vacuumed, washed her sheets and pillowcases and even rearranged her (or some of her) pictures on the wall. She'll be happy. I hate coming home to a messy room after vacation. It wasn't until I was done that I noticed her computer's screensaver said, "Don't move anything."

Scary Mary

For those of you who read my blog regularly, you'll remember my post several weeks ago about fast forward songs. I mentioned how "Feed the Birds" from Mary Poppins freaked me out. What I didn't mention was how the whole movie seemed pretty dark to me. I happened upon this trailer the other night and discovered I wasn't alone.

Family Council

One of the common practices of my church is FHE (Family Home Evening). Even as single adults, we gather together every week for this tradition, calling ourselves a family. In fact, last night we gathered for games, a spiritual thought and treats – three staples of a traditional FHE.

My family never held FHE for very long when I was growing up. Although I remember one specifically: we held it in Dad’s study. He played the guitar. Maybe I remember this because it was probably one of two or three times I’ve seen my dad play the guitar.

One thing we did hold regularly from March 1986 to December 1987 was Durham Family Council. It was usually on a Sunday, after church while dinner was in the oven. We sat in the family room, reviewed the past week and discussed the upcoming week. Mom and Dad would talk about our behavior, how we were doing with our assignments and household chores. It was a staff meeting of sorts. Everyone had a turn to speak. Sometimes (a lot of times) it turned into an airing of grievances. The best thing about Durham Family Council was my dad took minutes from each meeting leaving us a detailed record of what was discussed.

Several years ago I found the handwritten minutes and after crying from uncontrollable laughter decided to type them up for everyone. I shared some of these when I taught Sunday school once – I was talking about the order of families. This is how my family attempted to keep order. I think it worked on some level. If one of us started to complain Mom and Dad would say, “Save it for Family Council!” and we would.

Here are the minutes from a few of the meetings. Keep in mind, Lisa is about 5, I’m 8 and Carter is 10. Maybe this will sound a little bit like your family.


2nd Meeting
3-24-86
3:25 PM

*DADDY:
Suggested keeping minutes and reading some at next meeting.
Lisa in the morning –Carter and Laura should help her with breakfast.
Kids NOT to knock on our bedroom door in morning for inane reasons.

MOMMY:
Laura and Lisa’s stuff all over family room. Not so much Carter’s stuff.
Sunday mornings: Today was one of those hectic Sunday mornings. Need more help with Sunday clothes, hair and rooms.
Each child to report weekly on something learned, or some new discovery, etc.
Carter needs to practice piano more. Use downstairs piano.

LISA:
Confusion over morning actions and behavior.
Promised more control over mess spilling into rest of house.

CARTER:
Daddy moves me off couch and chairs when I was there first. Kids have rights too.
Laura’s rude to me. No specifics cited.

LAURA:
I want Carter to like me, but I often get a rude response out of him.

Meeting Adjourned: 3:42 PM



4th Meeting
4-13-86
4:34 PM

Minutes from previous meeting were read and passed.

CARTER:
Laura doesn’t know what she’s talking about with paper airplanes.
Learned about Bible, B of M, scriptures, Article of Faith

LAURA:
Liked swimming yesterday
Going to learn multiplication tables in May
Carter’s been gross – so gross I can’t even mention

LISA:
Carter’s gross with brownies
Wants to go swimming –likes water wings

(Daddy reminds Carter to stop laughing uncontrollably)

MOMMY:
Allowances reduced because of misbehavior
Carter hassled Mommy over leaving to go out. This needs to be stopped.
Telephone manners need work
Too many liberties with food.

DADDY:
Toilets need flushing even in middle of night
Reviewed week’s schedule
Will continue to think about Cabin trip.
Silverware, bowls, utensils belong in drawers and cupboards –not outside

Meeting adjourned at 5:02 PM


10th Meeting
6-15-86
3:50 PM

Minutes read and passed. (At 3:53 kitty knocked down knick-knack on piano)
Daddy noted that since Lisa was out of town last week, we didn’t hold Family Council.

DADDY:
Thanks for Father’s Day presents
3 more weeks of staying off the lawn

MOMMY:
Admonished kids to make better use of time
Carter doing well on piano – Laura too.
Saturday jobs OK – more thorough straightening
Tomorrow and every Monday, trip to library and cards discussed. Reading chart. Read after lunch. Laura reads to Lisa on Tuesdays, Carter reads to her on Wednesdays.
Laura to start dancing Tuesday and Thursday
Review reading weekly at Family Council

LAURA:
Glad we have grass
Looking forward to Cedar City

CARTER:
Ditto on Grass
Happy Father’s Day

LISA:
Asleep

Meeting Adjourned at 4:06 PM

Three for Three

A couple Christmas ago I was riding in the backseat of my brother’s car on Dad’s Durham Family Christmas Lights Caravan tour. I squished between my two nieces in their car seats: 4 year-old Chloe on my right, 1 year-old Piper on my left.

My brother and his wife (six months pregnant with Sadie) sat up front. I was in charge of keeping the girls entertained so we sang a bunch of Christmas carols. But after singing “Once There was a Snowman” about 8 times in a row I got really tired. As we drove past the mouth of Little Cottonwood Canyon on our way to see the lights at La Caille, Chloe said,

“Laura, how about when Sadie is born you take Piper.”
“Why would you want me to take Piper?” I said (after I laughed). Chloe answered, quite practically,
“I don’t think three is OK.”

Chloe must have had a lot of faith in this unborn sister to be willing to sacrifice the one she already knew for the sake of three being too many.

Last Sunday I took on the challenge of tending all three girls for three hours at my home. Every time I agree to tend the girls a wave of relief and gratitude overcomes Carter and Kelly – you’d think I paid off their mortgage or something.

Somehow I pulled it off.

We ate lunch.

We barked at the dog next door.

We tried to watch A Bug's Life.

Piper showed me her Cheerio trick.

Showed me her puppy impression.

Chloe helped in the kitchen.

We had a jelly belly hunt.

Aunt Lisa came to visit.

Their cousin Jack tried to get away.

Then we had a screaming match. My idea. It was a bad one. For some reason I thought if everyone screamed real loud once they would stop. But they didn't. This went on for what seemed like an eternity.Although I absolutely adore them all and life would not be complete without all three, I’m beginning to wonder if Chloe makes a valid argument.

One day if I have more than two kids they’ll read this and think how horrible their mommy is and ask me which one of them I wanted to give up.

TAGGED

NAME THIS:

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet & current car)
Kitty Prizm

2.YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie)
Mint Cookie Macaroon

3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name)
LDur

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal)
Green Puppy

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born)
Lee Iowa

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first)
DurLa

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (”The” + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink)
The Orange Propel

8. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers)
Paul Lowell

9. STRIPPER NAME: (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy)
Chance Chocolate

10.WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother’s & father’s middle names)
C. Lee

11. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter)
Burt Boston

12. SPY NAME: (your favorite season/holiday, flower)
Autumn Lilac

13. CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now + “ie” or “y”)
Pear Skirty

14. HIPPIE NAME: (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree)
Orange Dogwood

15. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME: (The + Your fave hobby/fave weather element + Tour)
The Baking Thunder Tour


So I'm not going to tag anyone, but if you want to answer these, I'd love to see what you come up with.

Also, I recently tried on a swimsuit, and although I don't have a ton of weight to lose, I could definitely tone up some areas and build some lean muscle mass. I've always been a pretty healthy eater, but I'm not always disciplined when it comes to treats and keeping up an exercise routine. So as of today, I've started a Healthy Laura Campaign, and subsequently an additional blog. I invited a few authors who already expressed interest, but if you want to join by starting your own healthy campaign, I'll gladly invite you as an author. Also, it's for invited readers only, but again, I'll send you an invitation if you're interested.

The Interim

Ever since Maria left for Manhattan and took the TV with her, I've become aware that I'm more a product of my generation than I thought. I miss TV. It's not that I'm missing out on a lot of shows I want to be watching. In fact, I've learned I really don't have a lot of programs that I NEED to see. But in the morning I usually watch the Today Show as I'm milling around, eating breakfast. And when I get home, I turn the TV on to whatever. The noise is mostly just a companion for me.

Without a TV, I feel so under-stimulated at times I'm not quite sure what to do. I mean, I have things to do. I'm a productive person, but I'm also a multi-tasker. And one of the tasks that usually accompanies my other tasks involves watching or at least listening to the television.

So for the time being, my iMac is my TV. On Sunday afternoon I wanted to watch a movie, but I didn't want to sit at my desk and watch it -- that's not relaxing. So I brought it downstairs so I could sit on the couch like I normally would. Only problem is when I want to use the computer as a computer (like now) I have to balance the keyboard on my lap. That's fine. I can improvise.

It actually looks kind of nice there doesn't it? Someday our computers will be our televisions. But not today. No, today, for me to pretend like I have a television, I go to abc.com or nbc.com and look for shows online that I didn't have time to watch when they originally aired. I am now caught up on Medium. And I may have rewatched some Lost.

Here's the sad and pathetic thing: I am at a computer for the majority of my work day. But there's something inside me that needs to come home and sit in front of a box with a bright light to unwind. So I walk in the door and head towards the computer and sit in front of it. As if this computer has something very different to offer me than the one I sat at 8 minutes ago.

I've accomplished a lot this week with my spare time that reruns of Friends and Seinfeld and local news used to occupy. I did two loads of laundry, organized the spice cupboard (I love lining things up in a row). I cleaned my room a couple times, rearranged and sorted through everything in the "nursery" and I mopped the floor. Before I wrote this post I organized the DVDs by genre. Next is cleaning out the fridge. (No need to invite me over to your house to do chores, I know what you're thinking.)

I'm holding out on buying a new TV until we get a new roommate. After all, new girl may come with a nice flat screen. In the meantime, instead of curling up on the couch with a blanket and a remote control, I'll be curling up with a blanket and my wireless mouse so I can "click to continue."

I believe in grace.

I've been thinking about grace ever since I heard a recent convert to my church read Ephesians 2:8 at Ward Conference in January. If you are unfamiliar with NPR's "This I Believe", the weekly program is basically a five minute recitation featuring an essay someone wrote on what they believe in.

This year's list of goals includes having my writing published, so I thought this could be a good opportunity to attempt to accomplish my goal.

I submitted my essay last week so we'll see what happens. I was going to wait to see if my essay was actually chosen for broadcast before I posted anything because how cool would that be? But seeing how they get tens of thousands of essays, I thought I would publish it myself before it gets filed away:


I believe in grace.

It doesn’t always make sense to me; but when ambiguities such as grace and love manifest themselves, I’m moved by the clarity they bring.

When I was in the third grade, my teacher planned activities for our class to celebrate spring: For weeks I looked forward to making treats and dying eggs. I remember telling my mom how much fun it was going to be and I imagined what colors and designs I would choose. Before the big day, my teacher told us to come to class on Friday with a hollowed out egg. We were also told to bring our spelling test signed by a parent, and if we didn’t, we would have to sit out from the activities.

At nine years old, I was the perfect student. I was studious, I was obedient, and I was responsible. So when I forgot to bring my spelling test that Friday, I was devastated. I knew what the consequence would be. When my class jumped from their chairs to collect art supplies, I sat still in my desk examining my perfect, hollowed out egg, overcome with disappointment as I fought the inevitable tears.

It wasn’t long before my teacher pulled me aside. She knelt down, descending below my sad self and said I should join the rest of the class. With tears in her eyes she told me I could bring my spelling test on Monday. And then she gave me a hug. I couldn’t believe it. My disappointment disappeared with this unexpected gift.

Twenty years later, I remember this moment. Even though I fell short of what was required of me, my teacher graced me with love and understanding. She could have stood her ground and let me sit out as an example to the other students, but she knew punishing me for this small mistake wouldn’t teach me a new lesson. The lesson I learned that day was how much grace can lift someone’s spirit.

Still, I seem to have a hard time grasping grace in my life. I sometimes subscribe to the idea of karma – what goes around comes around. But then I’m reminded this attitude of a balanced behavioral checkbook is detrimental to my happiness. If I’m constantly keeping count of what I feel I’m entitled to I may never be satisfied. If I’m blessed beyond what I deserve I might never feel worthy. I must remind myself that I know better. Not everyone is punished for breaking the rules just like not everyone is rewarded for their efforts. Life may not be fair, but when I think about it, more often than not, I’m on the fortunate end of the imbalance. And this moves me to offer the same grace to others.

I believe in being gracious to others and I believe in accepting others’ graciousness whether I’ve earned it or not. Sometimes you are blessed simply because someone loves you. And that is why grace is a gift – not a reward.

"Caring, sharing every little thing that we are wearing..."

Thanks to everyone who voted on my poll. The majority seems to think Rania and I don’t look the same, but we could be sisters.

In light of this, I decided to post a picture of me and my actual sister. Lisa is 3.5 years younger than I am and one of my best friends. This was taken in Hyde Park about 5 years ago when we visited Mom and Dad in London.

We never thought we looked that much alike, but there is some resemblance. We are both 5’3” and we both have dark hair although hers is a lot curlier than mine. And while I maintain a Snow White complexion, her skin has a year-round tan.

About a month ago I was walking outside Wild Oats and came across an old family friend (my parents affectionately refer to him as “Goofy Todd”). He asked, “How are you Lisa?” and inquired about my “little one”. When I explained he was mistaking me for my younger sister his excuse was, “Oh! you look more and more like her everyday.”

I had no idea I had been aging in recent, not to mention exponential retrograde, but it was flattering, nonetheless.

Party Laura

About two years ago I went to a party at my friend Steve's house. As soon as I got there my friends Nick, Joe and Clint (it seems like there were more) came up to me and said, "Oh my gosh, your twin is here!" They were serious too. They said she looked just like me. Clint married her in December.

Anyway I didn't think she looked like me and neither did my girlfriends. We both had long dark hair and similar body types I guess. Guys are weird that way. I think a lot of girls look the same to them. So they called her Party Laura because they met her at that party. Now that we know her better, we call her Rania.

Since then I cut my hair and just last week Rania cut her hair. We had a party last night. I decided we should get our picture taken together since everyone thinks we look the same. Once I looked at the picture, I said, "Oh my gosh, we look the same!" I think our eye color is almost identical. It's crazy. I took a lot of pictures last night and every time I looked back on one with me in it I thought I looked more and more like Rania. So I'm putting a poll up. Let me know what you think.

The cocktail party last night was our third annual and one of our best. I love my friends and I love that they come dressed up. This party was a farewell party for Maria since she leaves for Manhattan sooner than I like to think about. If you don't know Maria, or even if you do, you can read more about her on her blog by clicking here, or on my blog by clicking here.

Here's a slideshow with only a few of the pictures I took.

Amenities

The past two weekends I’ve been a housesitter. I absolutely LOVE the house I live in, but sometimes housesitting is great because I can pretend to live somewhere else and enjoy amenities I don’t get to enjoy on a day to day basis.

My friend Jane asked me to take care of her dogs a couple weeks ago. I wasn’t really housesitting – although she told me I could stay there if I wanted. I probably would have spent more time there had I not been so busy. Jane said to feel free to use their amenities. I guess what she meant was their cable and their jet tub. (Jane, when is the hot tub going to be up and running again?) I didn’t have time watch TV there or take a bath, but the best amenities at Jane’s house are the cute puppies and the piano. And I played with both.

This past weekend my sister asked me stay at her house and feed the cat. I wasn’t planning on spending as many nights there as I did, but I ended up staying all four nights because I was nervous about leaving the cat inside all day. He definitely has a schedule. Every morning when I let him in, it was time to drink out of a faucet -- which faucet he wanted to drink from was always a surprise. My favorite instruction that came along with Dominic was to be sure to feed him, but not to worry if I didn’t because he is kind of fat. Dominic needed me to pet him ALL the time.

I was enjoying living in a house I could never afford by myself with the amenities that come along with it: a garage, a bathtub, and a new wardrobe. Lisa doesn’t care if I wear her clothes as long as I give her credit on the compliments I receive. So, Lis, people liked your shoes and that copper ring with the white on it. Oh and your maroon sweater with the elbow patches.

I don’t have cable at my house, so it’s nice to change up my television routine. I watched a little bit of Dance Crew on MTV, but mostly I watched morning news shows and four episodes of Alias on the big screen downstairs.

I learned a couple things this weekend: I’ve been using Aveda shampoo for the past year and I forgot all about static hair until I used Lisa’s Loreal shampoo. So I’ve concluded all-natural shampoo prevents static.

I also learned my sister has an addiction. Lisa. We’ve talked about this, but when you told me about your problem with purchasing lip gloss (not necessarily using it, but purchasing it) I had no idea it was this severe. As I was looking for a flat iron I came across several cosmetic bags full of lip products. I counted 35 tubes of lip stick/gloss/stain or whatever in your upstairs bathroom. What’s disturbing is this doesn’t count what you brought with you to L.A. Your obsession with collecting lip products is almost as crazy as my compulsion to rinse them off and line them up in a row.

Just so you know I put them all in one big cosmetic bag under your sink.

Welcome home. Thanks for letting me stay at your house, wear some of your clothes and eat your food. I didn’t have a party, but I did vacuum.

Footwork

These are my feet. Feet aren't the prettiest things. Mine actually knew they were getting their picture taken so they had their toenails painted. Still, I'm not quite sure which pose flatters them most.

Feet say a lot about a person. The other night I had my first full reflexology treatment. Last summer I had a mini-session with a girl at the Farmer's Market. About a month ago I ran into her at Rubio's. I recognized her, she recognized me and then she sent me an email to get an hour treatment at half off. I figured I couldn't turn that down. She has a Masters Degree and is certified in all this stuff called "sole healing" she's been trained, attended healing seminars and has an extensive library with books about reflexology and energy work.

This is their "demure" look. The treatment is kind of a foot massage, but not really. She works all over your feet, finding tender spots and working on those like someone giving you a body massage would. But she also tells you about yourself according to your feet. So here is what my feet say about me: My feet scream "I'm healthy." I'm physically healthy and emotionally healthy. I asked what unhealthy feet look like and Julie told me some people have really curved and scrunched toes. I always thought that was a result of wearing pointy shoes.

We discovered I'm tightest in my back and my neck. If you didn't know this already, your feet are basically a map of your body. So up around the big toe is your neck and so when she worked on that it really hurt. She did a little bit of energy work and it was actually really cool. I could feel energy running up through my legs and my arms, but not really in my neck which was her goal.

Julie avoids all the new-agey stuff because she's a religious person and doesn't necessarily believe in all of that. But she said if she did she would tell me I was a "star child".

I learned some things about the language of feet though. My feet tell me I'm a giving person and very intuitive. I also learned the right foot is your past and the left foot is your present. Julie told me I used to hold a lot of things inside and not share my emotions (something I'm very aware of) but according to my left foot I've recently overcome that, which has made me more emotionally healthy. But then she pointed to the little toe on my left foot and said I remain somewhat of a private person. The fact that my second toe is a little taller than my big toe means I lead by example. I remember being concerned about this when I was little because most of the people I knew had toes that slanted down at a clean angle. I remember asking my dad if he thought my toes were strange. He took off his sock and said, "Nope. You have Greek God feet -- like your daddy.

My session was very interesting. I'm going to have to go back sometime and see if my feet have progressed. If anyone is interested in having their feet worked on, let me know. I can hook you up.

Fast Forward Songs

Last week I watched Little Shop of Horrors for the first time in like ten years. I don't know how many times I watched that when I was a kid, but it must have been a lot because although I didn't necessarily know what song was coming next, once it did, I was singing along. I forgot how much I loved that movie – and how much fun the music is.

I watched a lot of musicals as a kid. And I loved them, but as I watched Little Shop of Horrors, I remembered how I would sometimes fast-forward through the song “Somewhere That's Green” when Audrey imagines her perfect "Good Housekeeping" life with Seymour. It's not a bad song; I guess I just got bored. I liked seeing the unmistakable little Seymour and Audrey juniors, but I didn't care for the song too much.

Come to think of it, there were a lot of musicals where I habitually hit the “FF” button through at least one song. Although I enjoy them now, for some reason they didn't appeal to me as a kid.

Sound of Music: “Climb Ev'ry Mountain” & “Something Good”
I guess I didn't like “Climb Ev'ry Mountain” because it was just the Mother Superior standing there singing by herself. The song wasn't very exciting to me and the visuals didn't keep my interest either. “Something Good” again, was just two people standing really close and singing in each other's faces. There was no dancing or moving around. Little aside: It wasn't until I was in high school that I realized the movie wasn't over after the wedding between Maria and Captain Von Trapp. I'm thinking when it was on TV, my mom told me it was over so I would go to bed.

Into the Woods: “No More”
I wish my mom told me to go to bed after all the marriages in this musical, because once you come back from intermission the giants come, the princes realize they don't love their princesses and everything in the woods goes to hell. This song is when the Baker is with his Father (whoops I gave it away if you haven't seen it) and they're just sitting on a rock singing a sad song. I still don't like it. I'm sensing a theme here. I don't like a lot of songs when people are holding still looking sad or concerned.

Mary Poppins: “Feed the Birds”
It was gloomy and gray and sad and the pigeons at Trafalgar Square freak me out.

My Fair Lady: “Get Me to the Church on Time”
Oh my GOSH that song never ends.

The Wizard of Oz: “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”
Now that I'm conscious of the sad and still theme, this song came to mind. I actually really love this song, but it took a long time for Judy Garland to sing it and I remember thinking, “I know how this one goes” and wanting to just move the story along.

Les Miserables: “Turning”
I have the 10th anniversary edition of Les Mis in concert. So it's not the actual production. It's an orchestra on stage and actors in costume. Almost just as good if you ask me. But the song “Turning” is all the women singing the melody from “Lovely Ladies” in a slower, more melancholy manner. Boring. At least they're moving. But I have to tell you, one of my favorite songs in Les Mis is Maurice singing “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables.” It's an extremely sad song and when I saw it on Broadway he was just sitting at a table in a chair. So sometimes, they can pull it off, keeping me engaged.

Grease: “Beauty School Drop-Out”
I don't know why. Bored me a little I guess.

The Music Man: “Shipoopi”
I don't know why I didn't like this song. It was a lot of happiness and dancing around. You know what I think it was...it was the repetitiveness. Plus it bugged me because I didn't know what the words meant. Yeah, I'd still fast forward through this one.

Stifled Tantrums

I'm an easy person to get along with, right? I'm kind, gracious, get along with most people. Even when I don't particularly like you :)

See that smiley face? That makes it all better doesn't it? Whatever dig or snide remark, no matter how much I really meant it, was flattened by that smiley face letting you know it's all good and I'm not looking for an argument. Right?

Please. I'm not saying all smiley faces are insincere. But when they're not, most perceptive people can see right through them. Sometimes people like to use them with instant messaging in particular because it's hard to read tones. Tones are more easily understood when they're heard. So you stick a smiley face after your insult to imply sarcasm or "kidding". It's also easier to be confrontational in instant messages and emails because you don't have to deal with hearing the other person's tone. However, when you're not typing that smiley face with the best of intentions, you can roll your eyes as much as you want, but you better believe the person you're "smiling" at is squinting back at you.

I recently had a conversation with someone I'm polite with, but don't particularly get along with lately. We've been "smiling" at each other through patient yet awkward instant messages for some time now. I'm not used to this feeling. It's uncomfortable. But this conversation about a certain issue had to be dealt with. I thought about mitigating the discomfort by IM-ing it, but decided this was clearly a phone conversation. So I reluctantly picked up the phone.

It was an awful experience. Fortunately, we're adults and know how to use our words. We were even-tempered and articulate. But if you stripped the conversation down to our tones, (or if we were five year-olds) it would have sounded something like this:

"Mine"
"No! Mine."
"You're stupid."
"Am not."
"You're just jealous."
"Am not."
"I can do whatever I want!"
"Oh yeah?"
"Mom said I could."
"Did not."
"Did so!"
"Let me go!"
"No!"
"You're not the boss of me!"
"Give it!"
"No."
"I'm telling Mom!"
"See if I care."

Yeah. That's what it sounded like in my head. It was so bizarre.

D.C. Chronicles: Day 4

We had another full day planned. Last night Dad gave me the laid back plan, the moderate plan and the aggressive plan. Being a moderate person I asked for the moderate plan. In fact, I don't think I ended up hearing the aggressive plan.

The moderate plan began at 8:45 AM. I guess that's the plan we went with because while I was at the computer I got a call from upstairs telling me it was time to head out. We went to Ford's Theatre to see where Lincoln was shot. Unfortunately, it was closed for a year. So we went across the street to the house where Lincoln died. That was kind of cool. I asked the national park ranger if any of the furniture was original and he said it wasn't. Apparently Chicago has the bed Lincoln died in. Why does Chicago have it? I mean, I know a private collector sold it to them, but c'mon. It belongs in the museum that commemorates his death don't you think? Let's all write letters.

After that we took the metro (which Dad kept calling the "tube" like he was in London) to the Library of Congress. Wow. I'm glad we found time to go there. Who knew that building was so beautiful on the inside? It was incredible. Loved it. Wish we had more time there. Another observation about Dad...and I think Mom has mentioned this before. He acts like a crossing guard. It's funny for awhile, but then it gets embarrassing. He is a very red personality, and I get along real well with reds, so I thought it was mostly funny. When the light turns red just as you're about to cross his arm holds you (and whomever else is there) back as he says, "Hold on!" and then when the walk signal comes he waves his arm and says, "Here we go!"

Now it was time to check out, go fill up the car and then drop me off at H&M while Dad looked around more at the Air and Space Museum. I needed more shopping time, but oh well.

If you're ever at the Smithsonian and you want a good place to eat, eat at the "food court" at the bottom of the National Gallery of Art. It's not like the food court at the mall, it's all made to order there. And they have gelato. And a pretty fountain.

So, I guess it's home again. I'm really not ready to be back. I want to be in D.C. longer. I need to find a way to get back there. If anyone wants to go to D.C., even just for the weekend, I'm your girl.

D.C. Chronicles: Day 3

Today was a much more relaxing day. I got to sleep in because we didn't have to be out the door until 9 AM this morning. It's kind of nice having the complimentary breakfast at the hotel because I can eat at my leisure.

NATIONAL AIR AND SPACE MUSEUM

We took the car this morning to the National Air and Space Museum. We were there before the door opened. I'm an always on-time person, but I'm sick of being early. We were early to the Archives, to the Capitol and to the White House. I wouldn't mind waiting outside if it weren't so cold. And it's not even cold. I blame the wind and the humidity which makes the wind cold. The wind is not my friend here.

Anyway, we saw the Space Station 3D movie narrated by Tom Cruise. I told Dad we saw this one when we went to Boston, but he didn't believe me. He should believe me. I have an exceptional memory, but I'm learning he doesn't, so I just reminded him that it was a good one.

This was a fun museum. I particularly liked the Wright Brothers exhibit. I learned all about Orville and Wilbur. After that I went downstairs and learned that I would not qualify to be a stewardess in 1950 for two reasons: 1) I am not between the age of 21 and 26 and, 2) My fingernails are rarely polished. There's also the attractiveness factor. Now, I know I'm not a dumpy girl or anything but they asked that you be, and I quote, "Just below Hollywood standards". I don't know what that means.

"THE PRESIDENT'S OWN" UNITED STATES MARINE BAND

I'm not big on band concerts, but I really enjoyed it. This was the reason we came actually. Dad is the Exec. Director of the Barlow Endowment which commissions composers to write new music. This has been the reason for just about every trip I've tagged along with Dad. We go hear the world premieres of these commissions. With the exception of the Barlow piece, this concert was fairly accessible and easy-listening. There was the traditional Sousa marches, and then there was a Bernard Hermann suite from some movie I can't remember. He wrote the scores to Citizen Kane and other old movies. This one had something to do with the Devil? I don't know, I didn't bring the program with me to the computer. Anyway, it was a lot of fun. It was in Arlington Virginia.

Alice Barlow Jones, who sits on the board of directors was there and she took us to dinner at the Chart House. She had her son with her and then she invited a guy from the Marine Band and his wife. They were very, very nice and interesting people. I can answer any question you might have about the Marine Band now. Alice lives in D.C. and I guess the Barlow Endowment is based there even though BYU administers it. She's an interesting lady. I guess Bill Marriott is in her ward. Man. I wonder what that neighborhood is like. I enjoyed their company. But even if they bored me to tears, my sweet and spicy Chilean sea bass would have made it all worthwhile. In fact, I had the molten chocolate lava cake for dessert, which is one of my favorite things ever -- but the waiter could have brought out my dinner entree again and I would have been thrilled. That was the best fish I have ever tasted. It was incredible. I'm still thinking about it. I wish there had been more of it. I let Dad have a bite, but if those other people hadn't been there, I would have slapped his hand away when he went in for a second helping.

After dinner, we went to the Lincoln Memorial. Tomorrow I have to find time to go to H&M. I can't come Back East and not go to H&M.

D.C. Chronicles: Day 2

WHITE HOUSE

I was really looking forward to the White House today until we discovered I wasn't on "the list." Dad was on the list, but my name was no good. A guy with a mustache and coil coming out his ear walked up to me and asked for my name and social. We waited about 40 minutes while they did a background check.

You can't take anything in there: no cameras, bags, nothing. After all that screening I was expecting to see some pretty exciting and exclusive stuff, but once we went through another security check they abandoned you to roam free through the first floor. I didn't think it was all that extraordinary. It was very European and looked like a lot of early 19th century homes I've seen in England -- with little or no screening.

I guess most of my White House knowledge and interest stems from NBC's "The West Wing". It's not like I was expecting to see Martin Sheen and Rob Lowe walking around, taking care of business, but I would have liked to see something a little more exciting than unused libraries and china cabinets. The portrait of George Washington (by Gilbert Stuart) was pretty neat. If someone knows how I can get a guided tour of the West Wing, let me know.

NATIONAL GALLERY

We didn't spend too much time here, but I saw some Vermeers which I love, some Rembrandts and some other things I'm sure. I know that's a really lame recap coming from an art historian, but if you really care (and I can only think of one of you who might) ask me about it later.

AMY and RYAN

Amy is my cousin who has been living here with her husband the past four years. They actually live in Maryland so they drove to our hotel, Dad and I got in the back of their car and they drove us around for about ten minutes while we caught up on old times and then they dropped us off at our restaurant for dinner. Dad's idea.

NEW YORK CITY BALLET

Wow. Loved it. So beautiful. Ballanchine's "Serenade" written by Tchaikovsky was impressive. Even Dad likes the ballet, but he likens it to home teaching: the thought of going brings about indifference, but once you're there you think "this is really great".

I love the Kennedy Center. I love the ballet. I love Washington. I could really do well here -- until I ran out of money.

D.C. Chronicles: Day 1

"The lucky daughter." That's what my sister called me. She said that to my dad when she asked about us going to D.C. My dad takes me on little trips with him sometimes. In the past seven years we've been to New York a couple times, Boston, Chicago, Minneapolis and Toronto. I wouldn't say I'm the "lucky" one. I'd say I'm the "unmarried" one who has the freedom to take off on trips. I guess that is lucky. Of course Lisa did come with us to New York both times. She was even married for one of them.

I've only been to D.C. Once. I went there with Maria and Kaila and we had a great time. I also remember us having a great hotel. Dad and I are staying in the Hilton Homewood Suites in downtown D.C. Our hallway smelled like chocolate chip cookies on the way down here.

We had a full itinerary today. The nice thing about traveling with Dad is that I get to be a little kid and let him handle almost everything. I don't have to think about how to get to where we need to go. I just follow. Until we get lost and then I step in. But another good thing about traveling with dad is that we have similar traveling styles. We're both kind of nerds. We love history and museums so I don't need to worry about the people I'm with being bored.

NATIONAL ARCHIVES

I visited the archives last time I was here, but we just looked at the Constitution. There is so much to see there! We scheduled a private tour, which was good so we got a glimpse of everything before we looked around on our own.

Highlights: Of course the rotunda with the Delcaration of Independence, Bill of Rights and the Constitution. We were the first tour of the morning so it was empty. There was a power and reverence in the room.

It's amazing how much they have to keep. They even had some of President Kennedy's doodles during a meeting he was sitting in on. My favorite part was where I got to make (well, edit) my own documentary about D-Day by selecting various clips. The movie played back on a big screen for everyone passing by to see. I could have spent hours there. It exceeded my expectations. I went a little nuts in the gift shop. Nothing like my mom, but I bought a few books.

SUPREME COURT

That was a cool building. We heard a lecture in the Chambers. Our intern/guide was very good. Let me see how many justices I can name: Roberts, Thomas, Scalia? and then the woman's starts with a G...shoot. I was kinda tired at this point. The eleven minute video was really great though. I felt a renewed interest in American History and politics.

THE CAPITOL

I toured this last time I came. Our guide (Dean from New Jersey) was brand new. Considering we were his first tour he did pretty well. But he was totally making stuff up. I knew I couldn't trust everthing he said when he called the paintings in the rotunda "photographs". And when he told a story about one of the paintings with Thomas Jefferson and John Adams he said they were rivals (true) but he also said how Jefferson was still alive when it was painted and how he had the artist paint him more attractively than John Adams who had already passed away (false). Jefferson and Adams actually died within hours of each other.

CAFE MOZART

This restaurant was recommended to me by Newell Dayley, board chair of the ARts Council and Dad's colleague at BYU. It was German food, which I like, but I have a thing where I like to order fish when I go out, especially if trout is on the menu. The watiress scolded me saying "that's not German" in her thick, Japanese accent. I almost said, "neither are you" but that would have been rude. She was good though. She called me "Honey" which, is a little weird, but I prefer it to "ma'am".

Good day. We got our judicial and legislative fill. Tomorrow we'll get the executive branch tour when we visit the White House.

Flirting

Last week I finally made my way to a certain violin-making school downtown to purchase a shoulder-rest. I’ve needed one for awhile – well, I don’t know if NEED is the right word. I really don’t practice my violin. I haven’t been good at it for ten years now since I put it to bed after high school. But I don’t have a shoulder rest anymore. And when I do pick up my violin, it’s useless without one.

I’ve been trying to find a good time to buy one, because when you visit this particular shop, if there is a customer before you, you could be waiting awhile. They do things the slow, old-fashioned way. They don’t even have a register. So I picked a morning when I had some time to kill.

I walked in and of course the guy at the counter was already helping someone. I immediately took a seat by the counter, about five feet from their conversation. I sat, hands in pockets, looking around. I read posters on the wall, studied the metronomes, read about what was coming up at Libby Gardner Concert Hall until I realized I was sitting for a very long time. I looked out the window, checking to make sure no parking attendants were attending to my car; I didn’t bother to feed the meter.

Once I had read everything in the store, I began to pay more attention to Dan the salesman and the girl he was helping. They discussed her violin and how she needed to make sure it was in top condition for her upcoming concert. She was mid-twenties, about 5’5’’, skinny, wearing casual jeans, a hoodie and fancy flats. She wore thick, black eyeliner to match her thick, black hair (I believe Revlon calls it "midnite black"). She had her hair in one of those tossled updos that wants to say "I can look fa-habulous without any effort" but you know she had about 30 bobby pins in there. Kind of a pseudo-exotic look she was going for, but the salesman seemed to really enjoy talking to her – or, looking at her.

This was when I labeled her as a shameless flirt. There was no hiding it: she wore a perma-smile for no reason and spoke in a quieter, sweeter voice as she asked for special favors and expedited service. I was amused and couldn’t help but smirk as I watched Dan the salesman eat it up and respond in a quieter voice with a reasonless smile. He took his arms from his side and placed all his weight on his hands as he perched on the counter, leaning toward her – a very authoritative and masculine position. I watched her for awhile, invisibly shaking my head in disbelief. And then I heard her giggle. That was it. Amusement officially transitioned into annoyance. I sat up in my seat and looked around, attempting to draw attention to the fact that I was still in the room and needed assistance from someone at some point.

An older man emerged from the back to ask Dan a quick question. Before he could return to whatever he was doing, Dan urgently told him this patient young lady (me) needed to be helped. The older man made the decision to finish the transaction with the flirt and asked Dan to help me. Thank you. Finally.

I told Dan all I needed was a shoulder rest. He took me into the “accessory room” and showed me my options. Before I knew what was happening, we were smiling, laughing and entertaining a banter just like with his previous customer. Somehow I had immediately forgiven him for giving in to her female wiles and defaulted into flirt mode myself. That’s when I knew I couldn’t blame the girl. It was Dan the salesman.

I walked out of there with the newest, most expensive shoulder rest they had in stock. I guess I better practice my violin now.