You have to really want it.

This is our much awaited, much rehearsed song for the 2008 Ward Talent Show. I was so crazed trying to get my costume together I forgot my camera, so I recruited the help of my friend Jon, to record it with his real video camera, but his file was too large to put on my blog. So instead you have to go to this link. I couldn't get it to load on my home computer, but after about 4 minutes it loaded on my computer here at work. So good luck. And thank you, Jon.

What? For me?

Wow! I got a blog award from one of the coolest people I know! Her name is Jaime Mormann Richardson and I worked with her at the LRC at BYU. We kinda kept in touch after school, but not really. Now with the advent of blogs we are reunited in mutual admiration. Be sure to check out her blog sophistimom. She is a culinary and all around lifestyle genius. I want to be a mom like her someday. I loved her post on manners.

I've received a blog award once before from someone I've never met named Abel, but I visited his blog regularly and I was flattered to get a mention from him. However, I failed to follow the rules and list my 5 current favorite blogs. So I'm going to do that now. Because I follow so many great blogs, it's hard to pick five. I feel like it's setting me up for hurting feelings. Please don't let me hurt your feelings if you're not on here. These just happen to be on my mind right now.

1. Kells Belles
This is my sister in law. I remember her talking to me earlier this year about starting a blog. I'm so glad she did, because I smile everytime Google Reader tells me she's updated. She's a great writer and I laugh out loud at her stories about her kids.

2. Miss Sorenson
This is my friend Kristi. It took her way too long to start a blog, but it was a winner from the beginning with the stories about her first graders. "Kids Say the Darndest Things" ain't got nothin on this blog.

3. Cupcake Blog
If you know me, you probably know I love to bake, and if you really know me you probably know I love miniature cupcakes. And if you're a trusted friend you know I had a dream last year to start my own cupcake business. Hasn't happened, but my adoration for creative mini cupcakes lives on. My friend Shannon introduced me to this blog and the first picture I saw was a mini apple spice cupcake with caramel on top and a wooden stick stuck in it. I was hooked. I didn't necessarily want to eat it, but I thought it was pure genious.

4. Red Delicious
I don't know if this breaks the rules because I've really only read one or two posts by this blogger. But the post I link to has got to be one of the funniest things I've ever read. Not a whole lot of her recent stuff has captivated me, but this one post is worth the mention. She's a pastry chef which might explain her bias.

5. The Cinematic Experience
Instead of choosing John's blog and/or Cameron's blog, which are usually excellent, I'm going to go for the hybrid. This is their new joint effort in a movie review show that actually airs on Comcast Channel 6 (I think -- I don't have cable so I have to watch it on the blog). The blog needs some work on its layout and aesthetic, but that should come with time. Each post is a 5 minute episode of them reviewing a different movie. They don't claim to be experts or anything, they're just an average movie goer like you.



On a completely different note, I feel I should report on my week of not spending and if it was painful or not. I was stellar. Except for today...but listen to this: I am planning a trip to New York and round-trip Delta flights were only $218! Come ON! You don't say no to that fare, even if you weren't planning a trip. I could have waited until tomorrow but if fares go up I will kick myself. And THAT would be painful. I think I made the wise choice.

I'll tell you what, I have a weekly obligation to my church to design and print the Sunday program. I typically upload the file to Kinkos' website for them to print every Thursday and charge it to my credit card. I do this on Thursday because I don't work on Fridays and it's easier to just take care of it at my work computer. Because I'm devoted to my goal I emailed the file to myself so I can order it tomorrow. The thought did cross my mind to just bag the whole not spending thing since I already charged my card for the airfare but then I thought, "No, I am not going to be that person who throws everything out the window because of one little slip up (if you feel good about calling it that)." Just because I used my card doesn't mean I stop trying.

The Pain of Not Spending

I was listening to Planet Money on NPR (I recently subscribed to this podcast that updates me on the economy everyday and explains it in a way I understand). The episode was called “The Pain of Not Spending.” They talked about the recession and said spending was down 1.2% in September. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but apparently it is. They said that’s enough for you to notice a drop in inventory and a drop in prices.

A drop in prices sounded great until they talked about the pitfalls of deflation. Spending is an important indicator of a recession and they said in September the American consumer was our last hope for the economy, but people stopped buying things. I haven't felt the pain yet.

So here they are telling me that the consumer is hurting the economy by not spending money. Yet, we’re told not to live beyond our means (even the guy explaining this said he’s cut his living costs). Getting loans that we can’t afford to pay back is a big part of what’s wrong with the economy, right? It’s a big part of all the foreclosures and the banks not wanting to lend to each other, right? So is it people with money that aren’t spending it? Is that the problem?

For a few days now, I’ve been thinking about how much money I spend. I mean, I’m always thinking about what I spend, but lately I’ve realized I’ve been spending a lot more than I usually spend.

I bought 4 items at Costco the other day and spent $60. And I spent $40 at the grocery store the day before – that’s $100 on groceries in two days. I remember in college I got by on $50 a month. I ate a lot of soup and peanut butter sandwiches, but I got by.

I eat out a lot more and I cook more elaborate meals. I also have more money than I used to. But still, I think saving money is fun, so despite what economists are telling me to do, I’m going to stop spending money – for a little while.

I decided to see how long I could go without handing over cash or my credit card. I have a freezer full of food, I have a tank full of gas and I think I’m going to try it. I’m giving myself through Thursday (I have a hair appointment on Friday). So if I count yesterday (and I’m going to) that should be 5 days of not spending. I’ll report back and let you know how painful it was.

Now, don’t get all literal on me and tell me I need to turn off the water and gas and everything – utilities are excluded from this exercise. I went to the dentist for a crown today, but I don’t plan on paying him for awhile.

And if you think it would be funny to tempt me by inviting me to lunch, you’re right. That’s funny. It’s also mean. But I’ll still say yes; I’ll just eat before I go or pick off your plate. Or I have a coupon for a free lunch at La Sage Bistro, we can go there. Or you can buy my meal and I’ll get yours next time.

I’m trying to think of the random expenses that could come up…this should be interesting.

Stories

We’re placing artwork in the gallery this week for the opening on Friday night. Fletcher (he hangs the shows) usually puts the art out there, rearranges it and then comes in and asks for my opinion/advice on where things should go. This is our statewide annual exhibit which means none of the paintings really have anything to do with each other, so it’s a difficult show to place. I have little reasoning for why I place things the way I do. Sometimes it has to do with size balance, color balance or similar styles. But this show is different; this show has a lot of portraits. As I was moving things around I realized I was making up stories about the people in the paintings and putting them by other paintings with people that fit the stories.

The sick looking children were already placed on one wall, so that’s all set. But there’s a painting of a disturbed looking woman in a wedding dress holding a glass of wine. I think her fiancé had been cheating on her for awhile but she was feeling the pressure to get married as she got older. The wedding party has been going on too long and she finally found some solace and sat down with a drink. But from where she’s sitting she can see her new husband dancing with the bridesmaids and looking at them in a way he never looked at her. She’s not upset because she’s become numb to the whole situation; she’s just unhappy and resigned to a loveless marriage of mistrust and infidelity.

Wow.

Anyway, I decided to move the disturbed-looking woman with her glass of wine by the dead baby painting – I don’t think the baby is supposed to be dead, I think he’s supposed to be at his christening (he’s wearing some serious Snoop Dog bling) but he looks pale and a little too still…

There’s also this family portrait. I can’t figure out what year it is supposed to depict. The father looks Grapes of Wrath-ish so I thought maybe 1930s, but then the mother’s glasses look like 1964, so who knows. They’re posing outside on their porch like they were having a snapshot taken. We put them next to this little painting of a highway. I decided they’re getting their picture taken before their family road trip.

Making up stories about people is usually more interesting than what is really going on, which is one of the reasons I think people gossip way too much, but I digress…

Has anyone ever listened to Delilah on 106.5? I never did until I went on a road trip down to St. George with a couple friends. Steve, the driver, seemed to have an itinerary for our road trip that involved CD listening, radio listening, regular check-ins on temperature, appetite and bladder status, and then there were scheduled moments of silent contemplation. Towards the end of the trip he turned on Delilah. If you’re unfamiliar with Delilah, this is how it works: someone calls in and tells a story about someone in their life that they want to dedicate a song to. It varies from a middle aged mother whose wonderful son is serving in the armed forces to a 20 something man who needs to let his newlywed know how perfect he thinks she is to a 10 year-old girl who wants to tell her mommy that she loves her despite the dramatic divorce. Sometimes there are confessions. Once Delilah hears the story, she picks a song to play for them. Steve introduced the game of skipping the story part and just listening to the song and then making up our own story as to what prompted that song choice. Way more entertaining.

Phantoms

The Wasatch Paranormal Investigators contacted me and asked if they could bring their equipment to my building and check out our ghost.

I’m familiar with our ghost, I mean, I’ve never met her but I’ve heard stories. People call her the purple lady because she died in a purple dress as she ran across the railroad tracks to retrieve an engagement ring.

Last year the Ghostbusters of Utah came to the Rio Grande on Halloween and took these pictures. You can see a black shadowy figure in one and a purple mist in the other . I don’t know if ghosts are supposed to be consistent or whatever or maybe the make and model of the camera dictates which paranormal features will show up. Anyway, I find it suspicious.

One night I was working late and the security guard asked me to go upstairs and check out the women’s rest room because he could see the light was on where we were standing and it shouldn’t be. He said no one had been up there for hours, and it’s a sensor light. He thought maybe the purple lady was in there. Does anyone else see the irony in this story? Maybe the paranormal is outside the jurisdiction of our guards.

I’m interested to see what kind of equipment these investigators will bring.

Like I said, if I have ever felt any kind of “presence” I didn’t make the connection to it being a ghost. But I have experienced other kinds of phantoms.

If you’ve ever had really long hair and then chopped it off, you feel hair phantoms for a few days. You’ll try to toss your hair and it’s just not the same. Or you’ll run your fingers through it and your hand keeps going even though your hair already ended. I’ve heard of amputees feeling “phantom pains” from their limbs they no longer have. I guess I think of my hair as an appendage.

It’s strange, because even though my dog Buddha has been gone for a couple years, and never even lived with me at my current house, every time I close the fridge or the freezer door something at the top shakes and it sounds exactly like his dog tags when he’d trot into the kitchen. I look around the corner for him every time. Sweet puppy.

And every time I finish a bowl of cereal, I set the bowl down on the carpet below the couch so my cat can come and finish off the milk for me – even though I don’t live with my kitty anymore. Poor Scooter.

I’ve heard rumors of what could be Scooter’s unfortunate future and I may have to start a “Save Scooter” campaign pretty soon. I’d take him in myself except his mere existence might kill one of my roommates if my other roommate doesn’t kill him first.

And my soapbox looks artsy too.

Recently, the Salt Lake Tribune published an article on the presidential candidates’ platform on the arts. The Americans for the Arts wrote to each candidate awhile ago asking them to release their position on public funding for the arts. Obama organized a 33 person committee to research the topic and responded with a comprehensive, well thought out and clear plan while McCain released four sentences that read like something cut and pasted from general statements as to why art is nice. I typically don’t write or even talk about politics, but some things get me going.

Not only do the arts define our cultural history and make life worth living, but economically, arts are an asset to our country. Artists and art-related nonprofits generate about $166.2 billion in revenue per year and $12.6 billion in annual taxes.

It is businesses such as Apple, Pixar and Procter & Gamble that seem to thrive in this economic crisis. You better believe they have trained artists and designers working for them. If you think about it, the competitive business edge belongs to innovators who add an aesthetic touch and provide creative solutions. These are the stand-out businesses that people take notice of. And finally leaders in government, business, and education are becoming savvy to what those in the arts have always known: to fuel creativity and innovation, you need to invest in the arts.

I rarely take the time to read comments on these articles, let alone comment myself, but after reading a couple reactions to the Obama/McCain statements on the arts (which you can read in the Trib article I linked above), I had to say something.


Tivogirl:
Seriously? Arts platform? Who cares? I can't believe this is a story.

One-Hand-Clapping:
tivogirl: It is no surprise your post drips with disdain for art. TV addiction has eroded our intellectual capabilities, modeled ineffective problem-solving skills, decimated conversation, promises instant gratification, and acts as a superficial barrier to boredom. Studies reveal people often know more about fictional sit-com characters than they do their own friends, spouses and children.

Art instead is a language that cuts across racial, cultural, social, educational, and economic barriers and enhances cultural appreciation and awareness. The arts help students succeed in school and life by providing them an opportunity to develop habits of mind such as critical and creative thinking, perseverance and dedication to task. On the highest levels of literacy, in the realms of social and personal growth and development, and in the development of higher-order thinking skills, the arts provide an ideal setting for multi-faceted and profound learning experiences.

After the events of 9/11 who among us was not moved by the playing of our national anthem? For me, nothing is more profound than standing side by side with the families of fallen soldiers as the trumpet weeps Taps into the still and grief laden air. Literature, painting, sculpture, photography, dance, and theater, have touched each of us. What do we bequeath young lovers, if not poetry and music? You and your family may find no value in art. You, like millions of Americans may prefer Seinfeld to singing, painting, dancing, or playing the piano. I do however appreciate a candidate that provided a well-crafted, thoughtful and detailed platform that demonstrates a profound appreciation for the arts and its place in the great history of our nation and our world. In comparison, John McCain submitted a platform dripping with the same disdain as you have displayed here. No wonder he is your candidate, and if he wins, I hope you and your family, enjoy what you deserve.

Me:
tivogirl and one hand clapping:
I had to comment briefly on your exchange...I don't think very many people look deep enough to see the art in everything around us. Even an episode of Seinfeld employs an innumerable amount of artists: writers, set designers, wardrobe, film editors, cinematographers, lighting design, ACTORS, musicians. I would like to see, just for one day, what the world would look like without the influence of art (and yes, even public funded art). It will be a bland, silent and dreary day, but at least people might get a clue.


Anyway, I thought I’d post that because I doubt anyone will read my comment seeing how it’s several days after the article was published. I’m not trying to tell anyone how to vote, I’m just letting you know how I feel about public funding for the arts. I have other examples on the vitality of arts education (not only for children but for adults and seniors as well), but this is all I have to say for now.

Fitting Room Failure

I usually shop by myself. I don't know if I prefer it that way or it just happens that way. Regardless, I'm not used to soliciting the opinions of others when it comes to what I wear. I usually trust myself not to look ridiculous.

This past weekend I went up to Park City with Lisa and Kelly for a "girls weekend." I like to call it a "get away" though because just about all my weekends are "girls weekends."

First stop: the Tanger outlets at Kimball Junction. We tried on a lot of clothes. My sister-in-law Kelly and her sister Katie have a number system when it comes to rating each other's appearance in clothes. It's basic, really: you rate each other on a 1-10 scale. There are no specific criteria or elements that skew the final number such as price or extreme lack of that particular color in your wardrobe. It's all about how you look.

I'm afraid I didn't score very high on my selections. Lisa and Kelly came out in their prospective purchases and it was all "Ooh! I really like that!" and "That's a great color on you" and then they smiled and retreated back behind their fitting room door satisfied with their options. But when I came out with something on it was, "Eh, it's OK." or "Hmm...I'm not crazy about that." Kelly gave some pants I tried on at J. Crew a "7" which apparently doesn't justify a purchase.

I did get a high score from both of them on a brown sweater vest which I bought, and some trouser jeans which I didn't buy (too expensive).

Here are some comments from my sister during our time at the outlets:

"That's too boxy"
"Don't get the white one. Get the black one."
"It looks like you taped your chest down -- like Cristina Ricci in Now and Then"
"No, Laura, don't even look at those shoes! Nothing with stitching on the toe"

Fortunately I can take it from her. I'll never forget last month when I met her at Fashion Place Mall. She called when I was trying on clothes at Nordstrom. I told her to meet me up there. When I stepped out of the dressing room she took one look at me and her face got all scrunched up and she said, "No! Laur -- not that shirt!" and I was like, "Um, I came in this shirt. It's mine." And then she had to check her balance before she fell over laughing. I'm not going to lie, I was laughing just as hard as she was.

The truth is, I would have purchased a couple shirts and some pants at the outlets had I not a personal shopper negating my choices. It makes me wonder if I walk around looking like a 7 and people just don't say anything. At least I know who to trust.

Eight Things

This is only because I love you, Tara.

8 Things I'm passionate about

1. Food

2. Music

3. Certain Movies
4. My testimony of the gospel

5. Any calling I'm given in church

6. My blog

7. My family (including ancestors I've never met)

8. Traveling

8 Things I say often

1. 'n stuff (I hate this about me)

2. and things like that (when I catch myself wanting to say 'n stuff. No better really)

3. Are you kidding me?

4. Oh really?
5. Yay!

6. You're the best

7. Um...no

8. Sounds like a plan

8 Things I want/need

1. My car door handle to be fixed

2. New black heels

3. To learn how to use everything this computer does

4. My driveway to be repaved

5. A new cell phone

6. A car with power locks and windows

7. my workstation at my office to be more ergonomic

8. eight hours of sleep every night

8 Things I want to do before I die

1. Visit Italy (I just kept this from Tara's list)

2. Fall in love and get married (yes, it was necessary to put both of those on the same line. Is it OK to say I want this before I'm 35? And have a kid or two by then too)
3. Own my own pet (cat or dog, whatever)
4. Live in Boston or D.C. for a little while

That's it. I can't think of any more. I'm a simple girl, I don't ask for much.

Get Over Yourself

The letter I wish I could send:

Dear _________,

I received your print-out of the online application you attempted to submit for our annual art competition. I wish to address your hand-written accusation next to the field requiring your email address which read as follows:

“Requiring an artist citizen to have a computer and/or maintain an email account could be construed as a financial discriminatory act by the State of Utah against its citizens. **contact me by phone or letter via USPS as my computer is dysfunctional at this time.”

I find it hard to appreciate your concern when you seemed to have no trouble finding a computer to fill out this application in the first place. I’m sorry your internet failed and you were unable to complete the submission process. Because you chose to submit via our online process (as opposed to the mail-in process), we require an email address to send you a confirmation. You provided your email address, which I’m familiar with, as you and I have exchanged emails in the past.

The assumption is that most people who own a computer maintain an email address. I can appreciate the fact that many people (including artists) do not own a computer because of financial reasons or by personal choice. Those who don’t own computers typically have free access through public libraries and/or other associations. If you don’t have that access, we provide a computer in our office for our patrons to use.

As I mentioned earlier, we do have other forms of application that don’t require an electronic process. Our constituents are welcome to fill those out by hand, and those forms do not require an email address.

Although I admire your attempt to defend the financial rights of Utah’s citizens, I’m confused at your claim that we discriminate against “artist citizens” by requiring an email address. The online form also requires a street address and a phone number. According to your logic, expecting artists to pay a mortgage/rent not to mention a monthly phone bill would be discriminatory as well. If you were actually unable to pay a phone bill, computerless and homeless, I might take your accusation more seriously.

Oh, and your implication that artists have a special financial burden imposed upon them is both short-sighted and stale.

Thank you for your submission and good luck in the competition.

Recent Acquisition

It started the first year I worked for the Utah Arts Council. It was August, 2001 and we did our annual statewide exhibition up at the Bountiful Davis Art Center. The theme was mixed media and works on paper.

I was immediately drawn to this monotype by Jason Jones and thought, “I should buy this.” It’s called Portal. The artist told me he painted it in Helper when he was there taking a series of workshops. If you look closely you can see a blue USPS mail box and a glass door behind it. I remember talking to Jason on the phone and I told him this was my first original art purchase. He said, “Congratulations! It’s addicting.”

He was right. That winter the Utah Arts Council exhibited the Utah Watercolor Society’s “miniature” show and I bought this piece by Steve Sheffield. It’s really small, which makes it affordable, but I love winter scenes and Steve told me he painted this particular piece up Millcreek Canyon and I love Millcreek. He was really nice at the reception and told me he didn’t like how it was framed and I should let him reframe it for me. So I bought it. My coworker Lila and I fought over this one a little bit and so Steve painted another one just for her.

The following summer (2002) my friend Ilene was visiting and wanted to get her hair done so I took her to Phil at Jagged Edge (if you don’t know this about me, my ability to recall detail is ridiculous. I can also tell you I was wearing a blue and white striped shirt I bought at “Next” in London earlier that spring which I have since handed down to my roommate Carri). Phil was bleaching Ilene’s hair so it took awhile. While I waited, I walked over to Utah Artist Hands on 100 South and saw this pastel piece hanging on the wall. It’s by David Maestes. I couldn’t stop looking at it. I think I really liked the blues and greens (it looks better without my reflection). It now hangs above the coat rack in my house. I used it for a Relief Society lesson once on the creation of the world. Thanks to my art history training I can squeeze meaning out of just about anything. It was actually a really good metaphor about how man can seem insignificant compared to the vastness of the universe, but how we really are God’s most important creation. I won’t get into it here, but you can ask me about it later if you want.

This is another piece I just couldn’t keep my eyes off of so after visiting it several times, I just decided to buy it. It hung at a show we did at the Alice Gallery in the winter of 2003. For a photograph, it was more expensive than I wanted it to be, but I like it (and the artist was really nice and gave me a deal). It hangs in our living room to the right of the west windows. It’s by Don Thorpe and yes, I know it’s blurry. He took it at Liberty Park. I love Liberty Park; and trees, apparently. You may start seeing a theme here.

One Christmas I was feeling generous and had some extra money so I thought it would be nice to buy my parents a painting and call it an anniversary/Christmas present. My parents once told me they have this goal to visit every Spanish mission in California. I found a painting by Wilson Ong of the San Carlos mission and I knew that’s what I wanted to get them. But then I saw this companion piece depicting a chandelier at the same mission. The owner of the gallery told me if I wanted to buy both she’d give me $100 off. So I bought this one for me.

I’m losing track of my years. I think this one was late summer 2005. Each year the Deseret News sponsors a landscape competition (well, they haven’t the past two years since MUAH closed because of Main Street construction) but I saw a couple pieces by my good friend Shawn Rossiter there. I bought a piece of his for my mom once, but never owned one myself. I kept coming back to this as I looked at all the paintings, so I emailed Shawn and told him I wanted it. He commended my excellent taste. I’m not crazy about the frame though. I keep meaning to have him reframe it for me. But he’s expressed frustration about how I write more for my blog than I do for his magazine. So maybe once I have an article for him I’ll be on his good side.

Ted Wassmer was the oldest artist in Utah until he died a couple years ago. I was lucky enough to visit him when he was well. I went up to his apartment with some coworkers because we wanted to buy paintings to give to our outgoing board members. Ted gave us each a small painting of his before we left. He has a whole series of ladies with hats. When I picked mine out Ted looked at me, smiled, and said, “She’s in Vegas.” It hangs in my bedroom. Last week Annie told me she thinks it looks like a lady whose head exploded.

I started this fundraiser for Utah artists. I invite a printmaker to create a print, commissioned by the Utah Arts Council to coincide with our annual arts conference. The artist makes an edition of 25 and then we sell them for $100 each – which is a steal. The money goes towards innovation grants for artists. Last year Sandy Brunvand made this one for us: Healing Branches II. She stitches layers of wax paper over a lot of her prints. I believe she had surgery on her hands and so instead of stitching, she started stapling.

And my most recent acquisition: de sein by Stefanie Dykes. She has amazing technical ability and was this year’s invited artist for our conference. What makes this print even more unique is how each print of the series has this red pattern painted across the front and each is different.

I simply don’t have enough walls in my house to continue this habit. But I doubt that will stop me.

In with the New

I love my television programs. I used to have a lot more time for tv than I do now. Some shows became social events which made them even more fun: Rock Star INXS and Rock Star Supernova at Jon and Rhett’s; Lost at John and Josh’s – a few times anyway; Heroes at Crystal’s – which I rarely made it to because of FHE; 24 at Steph and Kristi’s – which I stopped going to because I just ended up falling asleep. Well, it was a good effort to make TV a social activity. But most of my shows I’m usually watching by myself – especially now that I hardly ever watch programs when they actually air.

Summer is full of REALLY bad television. More reality programming than I can stomach. Remember when they used to air reruns in the summer? Reruns would be way better than America’s Got Talent, Nanny 911 and Wife Swap. So when fall comes around I get excited for my shows to come back and sometimes I look forward to giving new shows a try.

TV shows I will continue watching:

Samantha Who? (ABC)
It’s sweet, funny and smart. Christina Applegate is great in this show, but the best character is her friend Andrea (played by Jennifer Esposito). She steals every scene.

Lost (ABC)
The premiere won’t air until late winter. I hate that about this show. But everything else I love makes up for it.

30 Rock (NBC)
Always funny. Can’t wait.

The Office (NBC)
After last season’s finale, I’m a little worried about this season, but we’ll see how it goes.

Heroes (NBC)
Again, I’m a little worried about it but I’m still looking forward to it.


TV shows I just don’t have time to watch, but would if I could:

Medium (NBC)
I really love this show. The mystery is fun and keeps you guessing. The relationship between the husband and wife seems real to me and their children are genuine characters too which you don’t see often these days. But I’m never home when it’s on. So I’ll have to watch it online when I have time.

House (FOX)

I think this show has great stories, but I don’t understand how three of the original cast members still have top credits but you hardly ever see them. Anyway, it’s on the same night I should be going to Institute. So if I’m not at Institute, I’ll probably be watching House.

TV shows I tried last season, but just couldn’t get into:

Pushing Daisies (ABC)

You’d think this is a show I would like – the characters, the style; I wanted to like this show, I just couldn’t get into it. I should give it another try.

Chuck (NBC)
I watched most of last season’s episodes. I really wanted to like this show so I watched several episodes online after the season was over. It was all right.

TV shows you’d think I’d like, but I just don’t watch:

Desperate Housewives (ABC)
I’ve actually watched several episodes and I enjoy it enough to watch it when it’s on, but if there’s something else on that I like, I’ll usually watch something else.

Grey’s Anatomy (ABC)
It’s too soap-opera for me. Again, if there’s nothing else on – but I can’t stand Meredith.

Ugly Betty (ABC)
I think Lost went up against Ugly Betty so of course I never watched it. I did watch it in reruns. It was good. I’ll have to borrow Season 1 from Kristi and Steph and watch it sometime.


TV Shows I would LOVE to continue watching but can’t because network execs are sell outs:

Friday Night Lights (NBC)
This is one of the best “family” shows on television. I was surprised at how much I liked it, seeing how it centers around football. The acting is good, the writing is good, and the story lines are believable. And critics love this show. I was never able to watch it when it aired, so I watched the first two seasons online, but I looked forward to it every week. I just went to the NBC page and it looks like they’re taking it to DIRECT TV. Exclusively. And then there’s a link to get DIRECT TV right below all the critically acclaimed reviews. That’s so disappointing. If I’m going to pay money to watch this show, it will be paid in rental fees when it comes out on DVD.

TV shows I can’t believe are still on the air:

ER (NBC)

Up until last week, I actually thought ER was canceled years ago.

24 (FOX)
I loved this show until after Season 4. Then it just got out of control. All my favorite characters were killed off. Once I stopped caring whether Jack Bauer got nuked or not, it was over for me.

Scrubs (NBC)
I never watched this until it was syndicated on KJZZ. I think it’s funny, but I watched the last season and I think it’s over.

One Tree Hill (CW)
I think I was in and out of the first season. The characters are lame. I can’t believe the CW got rid of Everwood and kept this one.


Let me know if you have any suggestions for me this year. And if I got my networks wrong on any of these, let me know so I can fix them. I kind of guessed.

Ward Recipes

I just put chicken enchiladas in the oven. Chicken enchiladas seem to be a common meal in my culture, yet I've never made them before. They're not like Mexican enchiladas that you'd order at a restaurant. They're casseroled and mixed with tons of cream of chicken and sour cream. I've eaten them plenty of times, but only when other people make them. I had 44 tortillas in the freezer, so I called my sister (who doesn't really cook) to give me her recipe since she said she makes really good ones.

Yesterday my mom gave me a copy of her ward's latest cookbook (she bought nine copies to give away as gifts). I think the last time her ward did a cookbook was over fifteen years ago. I know those recipes well and would refer to them often growing up.

I was flipping through this yesterday and found six variations on the chicken enchilada recipe. And then I began to wonder who edits this thing. The duplication is astounding, but I understand everyone needs to be represented; it's not like this was going through a publishing house or anything.

I don't use cookbooks very often – not since the internet really. And I found myself looking through these recipes and not trusting some of them (like what is “That Bean Stuff”?) and wanting to scroll down and read the ratings and reviews like I usually do when I look up a recipe online. But there aren't any. I think the idea is that they were submitted because they were good, and so I should trust them.


But here's my question: If I want to make an apple pie, do I make “Apple Pie”, “Mom's Apple Pie”, “Fabulous Apple Pie” or “The BEST Apple Pie?” I don't know. And can we talk about how many of these recipes have “Yummy” in the title? Yummy Rice, Yummy Tacos, and my favorite: Oklahoma Yummy. I love a cookbook where something as sophisticated as Baklava can share a page with Oklahoma Yummy.

My generation of cooks has joined the submission list and so some of these recipes will have the word “Awesome” in them. And then there's one that actually has an exclamation: “Yummy Dip!”

A lot of these belong to people, like “Mom's Apple Pie” or “Sherry's Salsa” or “Kathy's Best Bean Soup”. I wonder how many other bean soup recipes Kathy has. Well, at least she submitted the best one.

I remember my mom calling me several months ago to tell me her ward was doing this and she had some recipes she wanted to submit, but she wasn't sure whether it was appropriate to submit a recipe in a ward cookbook that has wine as an ingredient. I told her to do it. I'm not a rebel or anything, I just think people need to realize alcohol is a perfectly acceptable ingredient for a lot of dishes. I'm looking at my mom's recipes and she either didn't submit that recipe or she took it out of the list of ingredients. But you know what, Mom? Lori Burnett has a recipe in here with wine. That must have gotten past the editor.

I'm kind of excited to try some of these. Except the Tuna Ring with Cheese Sauce. I don't think I could eat something that involves canned tuna, an egg, cheese (variety not specified), water and Bisquick. It sounds like the most awful thing anyone could mix in a bowl, throw in the oven and then put in their mouth.

I think my chicken enchiladas are ready.

House Plans

Remember the Sears Wish Book? Back in the 80's that was my #1 reference for my Christmas list to Santa. I would look through that catalog dozens of times and circle all the things I wanted. Pretty normal for a little kid. But what may not be as normal was how I also looked at the section with all the appliances, lighting and furniture, and dreamt about my grown up house.

I remember telling my mom how it would be a good idea for me to start saving money for furniture for when I was grown up and married and had my own house. She didn't think it was as necessary as I did. Of course I didn't really put anything aside. I spent all my allowance on cassette tapes and candy.

What I did do was find some graph paper and I began to sketch a rough blueprint of my dream house (from a ten year-old's perspective). I had only seen one blueprint before, and it was the blueprint for the house I currently lived in. My parents had it built and my dad referred to the blueprints a lot and showed me how certain things veered from the original plan.

Anyway, when my cousin Liz came to visit, she and my sister started designing their houses too. Of course we planned to live on the same street because our kids would be best friends and play together every day. We sat in the living room and sketched our house plans. They were never very sophisticated, but still, I had my necessities (this blueprint isn't actually what I made. I wish I kept mine though):

1) There was a baby grand in a large living room. I think it sat on a level one step above the rest of the living room. I thought that would be a nice touch and give it a bit of a “concert hall” quality.

2) A grandfather clock was in the entry way. My parents never had a grandfather clock but my grandparents did. I loved that clock. That chime was an iconic part of my overnight visits to Grandma and Grandpa's house.

3) I was into bay windows. I think I liked the idea of sitting in a window with a lot of pillows and looking out at the rain. Come to think of it, I still like that idea.

4) For some reason, I drew a minivan in the garage. I guess I figured I would be a soccer mom with 4 or 5 kids. I also felt it important that the door in the garage lead directly into the kitchen because apparently I would come inside with a lot of groceries and wouldn't want to travel far.

5) The master bath was HUGE.

6) The dining room table sat 8 people. I loved the idea of family meals and having everyone at the table for dinner. Oh, and there was a bar that separated the kitchen from the dining room. I could see myself passing dishes from the kitchen to my obedient children who set the table for me. (It's amazing how these mental images from when I was 10 come back so easily.)

7) Last but not least, there were secret passageways (I think I got this idea from that show Webster). Not only did the passageways lead to other rooms in my house, I think my sister, my cousin and I had a collective idea to have the passageways lead to each other's houses. We thought that would be fun for the kids.

Now that I'm older, I have different ideas of what my dream house would be. The minivan, for example, has disappeared completely from my plans and desires. And I don't need bay windows. But I do have other needs. Some of these sound simple, but it's only because I don't currently have them.

1) I want a bath tub. I miss having a tub – especially when the weather gets colder. All I want to do is fill up a “bath with bubbles” (as my nephew Jack says) and get away from the cold. And you know what, even when I'm married I think it would be AWESOME to have my very own bathroom. Is that selfish? Extravagant? I don't know. Anyone seen that Everybody Loves Raymond when he lets Deborah have the bathroom? That's a good one.

2) I want a big pantry. I LOVE to cook. I love to plan what I'm going to cook. I love to open up a door and see a lot of food on a shelf waiting to be prepared and feel like I'm set for awhile. Today I looked in my pantry and saw nothing that could be turned into a meal.

3) I still want a piano. A baby grand would be great, but even an upright would be fine.

4) I still like the idea of having a large dining room table. Even though I probably won't end up having a lot of kids, I love to entertain. So my family of four could invite another family of four over.

Yes, these remain dreams. Some are definitely doable at this point in my life. I just need to make room for them. Or move.

I was at Sutherlands a couple weeks ago to buy some potting soil. Every time I walk into a home improvement center I gravitate towards the appliances and the lighting and pick things out for my future home. It's still fun.

I'm it.

I was tagged by my roommate Annie. She was sitting right behind me when it happened. You’d think I would have seen it coming. She even asked me what her quirky qualities were so she could put them on her own list (btw she didn’t use what I told her).

Here are six quirky things about ME. Forgive me if you’ve been reading my blog for over a year, because if you have, you’ve probably come across a few of these in a more comprehensive list found here.

1. I have to know what the weather forecast is every day. Well, I can function without knowing, but one of the first things I do in the morning is check my weather widget on my computer. I guess I just like to know what I can expect. And what I can wear.

2. I never order fries or soda when I go out to eat. But if someone is sitting next to me and has soda or fries, it's so tempting I usually end up picking off their plate and sipping their soda (depending on the person and with permission, of course).

3. The left side of the bed is my side. Even though I have a whole queen size bed to myself, I stick to my side. It’s not like I grew up sharing a bed and so I’ve become accustomed to it. Maybe it’s because all my pillows are stacked on the right side, I don’t know. Sometimes my legs will venture over to the right side, or I’ll cuddle with the stack of pillows over there, but I really don’t take advantage of my big bed like I could.

4. I tend to run down steps rather than walk down them (when I’m by myself). It’s more fun that way. I hope it doesn’t become the death of me.

5. I actually love playing the hostess, serving people and making sure everyone has what they need; it is second nature to me. But once it's expected of me I get a little annoyed.

6. I talk to animals. I'm also convinced they talk back to me.

Uh…this is the part where I’m supposed to tag six people. If I could add one more thing about me it would be that, like most people, I have a fear of rejection so I hate tagging people because if they refuse to accept my tag, I might take it personally.

DA DA

I always thought Atticus Finch would have been a good dad for me. He was wise, patient, warm, understanding and honest with his children. He respected them and knew he couldn’t keep them in a bubble.

I should say, I don't sit around dreaming up hypothetical families for myself from literature, I actually had an English assignment to pick alternate parents once.

However, I’m happy with the dad I was dealt -- despite the time he made us all cry on Mothers Day because he wouldn't let us keep both kitties. And despite his insensitivity when I was 7 and told him I was running away and he gave me a nickel for my expenses.

Dad turns 58 today and I realize I make fun of him every now and then (i.e. here and here) but I have plenty of sincere things to say.

I think everyone has moments in their life when they are reminded of how much they love someone. But what’s interesting is how those moments aren’t necessarily manipulated or orchestrated to be memorable.

I have a few memories of my dad that remind me how much I love him, because they remind me how much he loves me.

I never doubt that my dad is proud of me. He always introduces me to people he knows and goes on to share facts about me that might be of interest to them or applicable to the occasion. He’s introduced me to colleagues, friends, composers, apostles, and other acquaintances. He was never the kind of parent that had me sit in the shadows while he talked to important people. I was never insignificant to him. He was proud to have me with him and proud to be my dad.

I remember walking down the halls of the HFAC at BYU and having him introduce me to every professor or dean we ran into. He would put his hand on my back and say, “Have you met my daughter Laura?” and then he would go on about something and say, “Isn’t she cute?” I always feel important when I’m with Dad.

When I was a freshman at BYU, I had no money. I lived at home and since my dad taught at BYU, I hitched a ride with him every day. We had more one-on-one time than we ever had before. Dad was really cool and let me use his office for whatever I wanted. He even cleared a bookshelf for me to keep my books. The hard part was matching my schedule to his so I didn’t keep him at school much longer than he needed to be there. I scheduled myself from 8 AM to 2 PM every day. That's a tight schedule, and it didn’t allow me any time between classes to eat. I was starving by the time we met for the ride home. One day, when all my classes were over, I came into his office and noticed “my” shelf was filled with muffins, juice, granola bars, fruit and chips. I said, “What’s all this?” and he turned around and answered, “The Easter Bunny came!”

The summer Jurassic Park came out in theatres, my friends made plans to go see it, and they called my big brother (their new best friend because he could drive) to go with them. Somehow everyone neglected to let me know about it. Kids have a way of figuring these things out and the excuse was “there wasn’t enough room in the car” or something lame like that. I was insulted, of course. My dad found me feeling left out and hurt. He said he was going to the movie later that afternoon and I should go with him. Of course that wasn’t my ideal situation. He told me I was “too dignified” for a lot of my friends. I never like hearing people put my friends down, even when they’ve let me down, but I was flattered that he considered me “dignified.” Ever since then, I’ve tried to live up to his compliment and make dignity part of my character.

One more: When I graduated from college I moved to Portland, Oregon. I had good times there, but overall I think I was frustrated with not knowing where my next paycheck was coming from and feeling like I had no direction. I had no money (again), no car, and no furniture. I had two of my best friends with me, but I wasn’t going anywhere career-wise and I wasn't making any connections in Portland. I came home that summer for my brother’s wedding and it was hard for me to leave Salt Lake at the end of the week. My dad dropped me off at the airport and gave me an envelope. When I walked up to the gate I opened the envelope and there was a check for $100 and this note:



I put the envelope in my violin case (I don’t know why I felt I needed my violin in Portland with me). At some point, I left my violin case in the restroom by accident. I ran around, frantically trying to track it down as they boarded my plane. I ran back in the bathroom and it was gone. So I ran up to Southwest Airlines and asked how to reclaim lost property. They directed me towards a room and told me to knock on the door. My eyes were red from stress and repressed tears as I asked the nice Southwest employees if they happened to pick up a violin. One of them looked at me (a little amused) and said, “Are you La-La?”

I was relieved to have my violin back, my $100 check (ironically, if you run away as an adult, your stipend goes up significantly), and the multiple choice question so typical of my dad.

Happy Birthday Dad! Thanks for always making the answer to that question an easy one.


*Just in case you were wondering...Scooter is the cat, Buddha was the dog, and Morlarin was my dad's invisible childhood friend.

Bitten

After thinking about it for a few seconds I've concluded mosquitoes offer no good or benefit to society.

Nothing can call up my paranoia and disdain quite like the blood-sucking mosquito. My problem is mosquitoes absolutely LOVE me. I am a magnet. I must emanate a pheromone that seduces the insects, invites them to suck the lifeblood from my body and encourages them to invite all their friends. I will be slapping my arms and brushing my legs and people will look at me like I'm insane.

I was at a pool party a few weeks ago and I confessed my unequivocal fear for mosquitoes. Someone asked, “Why, because of West Nile?”

“No, I just hate getting bitten.”

I suppose it's ironic that the deadly diseases mosquitoes can carry don't burden me in the least. I think what it is, is the loss of control. I can't see them assault me. They're sly when they land on my skin. And I do, I feel assaulted. I take it a little too personally, and feel defeated when that first itch sensation reaches my brain and I know the inevitable has happened: they found me again.

The other night I wanted to sit on my porch because the weather was so nice. I looked up at the porch light and saw the miscreants swarming around. So I turned off the light and sat in the dark. At some point I learned mosquitoes are attracted to light, so I figured if I sat in the dark they would find a light to travel to. I sat for about 8 minutes and then walked inside to discover I was bitten three times.

The worst is when I wake up in the middle of the night. A polite whisper prompts my brain and my eyes peacefully open. And then I hear it -- the slight buzzing of a satiated mosquito.

There's a mysterious adrenaline that manifests itself in the middle of the night. As soon as I suspect a mosquito presence I am jolted from my slumber. I don't just wake up -- I wake up in full combat mode. I flick the light on and I am ready to hunt down the mosquito until it is good and dead. Sometimes it takes a couple nights to conquer it. But once I do, the victory is sweet and I can sleep in peace.

I was sleeping in the same bed as my friend Kristi in Aruba last month and every night I got bit. They didn't touch her. They must smell my fear. And the delicious ambrosia that is my blood.

If I could rid the world of them I would.

Tests, Frets, and Try-outs

I failed my drivers test when I was 16. I probably would have passed if it weren't for that second when the instructor beat me to the brake. If you remember, they have their own brakes and the rule is if the instructor hits the brake, you automatically fail. So as soon as that happened, I knew it was over. I'm sure I cried for a good portion of the walk home.

Unfortunately, I let that day destroy a bit of my confidence. I'm sure a lot of kids would have gone back out there as soon as they could to pass the test and get their license, but I wasn't one of those kids. I was afraid to try again. I was afraid I'd fail again. It's not like I needed to drive right away. I had older friends that drove, and besides, I didn't even have a car. So I put it out of my mind and didn't make it a priority.

Months passed and school was over. I remember staying in bed one lazy morning when my dad opened my door. He said he was going down to his office in Provo and if I wanted, he could take me to the DMV in Orem to take the drivers test. I timidly declined his offer. I was still scared I would fail. My dad tried to persuade me by saying the road tests at the DMV are easier than the ones high schools give you. I said I wasn't ready. But as soon as he walked downstairs I realized I couldn't keep putting it off. Somehow I mustered the courage to do it. I hurriedly put some clothes on, ran downstairs and told him I changed my mind.

I passed with a 94%.

It's not like I was always afraid to take risks and try new things. When I was 17, I made the very uncharacteristic decision of trying out for the school play. I had never been in a play before; I never took drama. But I memorized a monologue and auditioned. The drama teacher had me say my lines over and over again. I had to say my lines as if I were ecstatic, as if I were in love with the person I was talking to, as if I were drunk. I even had to say my lines while dancing around the stage. I still can't believe I did that – given how shy I was in high school. I remember having to pretend like I wasn't myself, because I would never do anything scary like that. But I left elated – not because I thought I gave a good audition (I was pretty sure I didn't), but because I was so proud of myself for attempting something scary and unfamiliar.

A couple days later I walked over to the drama door to check out the “call back” list. To my surprise my name was on a short list of students asked to audition for the final cut. I stared at it for a good two minutes in disbelief. I remember other students crowding around asking “Who's Laura Durham?” I smiled and walked away.

The call backs were on the school stage. Something happened as I sat there surrounded by drama students. I thought, “What am I doing here? I don't want to be here. I just wanted to see if I could actually pull it off, I don't really want to be in the school play.” So I didn't try as hard as I should have, and I didn't get the part. But I didn't care. Now I knew. I could act. I just didn't want to.

Four years after my acting audition, I found myself at a singing audition. Only this time I was a junior at BYU. And this time I really wanted to make it. Singing was always something I knew I was good at and something I really enjoyed. It had been awhile since I sang in a choir. I missed performing and I wanted music to play a bigger role in my life.

I auditioned with several other students. We sang a hymn together and then we each sang a line by ourselves. The conductor wasn't even there, his assistants were doing the preliminary auditions.

A couple days later I walked over to the E Wing in the HFAC to check the list of those who were called back to sing for the conductor. They had three lists: Concert Choir, Men's Chorus and Women's Chorus. Concert Choir was more prestigious than Women's Chorus – I didn't want to sing in Women's Chorus. I looked the list up and down, but my name wasn't there. I checked again. I looked to see if they had my name out of alphabetical order. Nope. Still not there. “Maybe...they put me in Women's Chorus...?” I thought. So I checked that sheet. No Laura Durham. I didn't bother checking that one a second time. I stood back in disbelief. “But I'm a singer," I thought. Here is something I've been good at my entire life...something that is inherently a part of me...and I didn't even make the call back for Women's Chorus?

Later that day I walked into my Dad's office and told him I didn't get in. He looked slightly angry. “Did you tell them I'm your dad?” (My dad is a professor at BYU's School of Music). No, I didn't. “Go tell them who your daddy is.” I wasn't going to do that. “Do you want me to talk to Mac?” (Mac was the conductor). I told him I really, really didn't. My pride stepped in and I told him if I couldn't get in on my own I didn't want to get in.

Although I didn't cry like I did when I failed my drivers test, I did let it hurt my confidence -- and the scars remain. It's hard when music is something that has played such an important role in your life (and for generations before my life). And singing was something people always told me I was good at. I still played the piano and sang every now and then in church or whatever. My dad sang in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and my mom is the Executive Director of the Utah Chamber Artists so I attended concerts all the time. But after that failed audition I convinced myself I just wasn't a singer like I thought I was and I didn't need to be. In fact, at some point after college when people asked me if I sang, my answer changed from “yes” to “not really.”

After I graduated from college I had to say goodbye to a lot of my good college friends. My mom asked me a couple times if I wanted to sing with the Chamber Artists. It always came wrapped in “it will be something fun to do and you can meet new friends.” My mom had sung with the choir ever since I was 13 and I went to every concert and helped out with whatever they needed. Mom even paid me to be their librarian for a little while. When I was younger, I always saw myself singing with them someday. I was around the choir a lot and knew most of them by name -- it seemed like the natural thing to do. But flunking a preliminary singing audition stained my memory and now it didn't seem so natural. And this wasn't a little college choir, this was one of the best choirs around and I had a lot of respect for their talent. So when Mom asked me if I wanted to sing with them, I would politely turn her down. I wasn't necessarily afraid I wouldn't get in – I never underestimated the power of nepotism. I was more afraid of not being good enough but being allowed in because of who my mother was.

Last Tuesday I auditioned for the Utah Chamber Artists and a couple days later I got an email from Barlow (the artistic director) letting me know I was in. It took me a long time to be OK with the fact I might never know if it was because of my singing ability or because my mom would have killed Barlow. It was hard for me to suck it up after all these years. I think what finally pushed me was getting to know the choir members on a more friendly level when I went with them to Europe in June. I realized what an enriching experience it could be and how it's stupid to let this opportunity pass me by. I finally accepted that it doesn't necessarily matter how you get in the door, it's what you do once you're in that really matters.

But that didn't make it any less scary to sing for Barlow. It kind of felt like that night I auditioned for the school play. I had to act like I wasn't nervous; I almost had to pretend to be someone else. Only now I realize just because I do something scary and unfamiliar (and potentially confidence crushing) doesn't mean I'm acting out of character – I'm building character.

I'm thrilled to be part of the choir and perform with an ensemble again. Sometimes it takes a long time to come back to doing something you really love and realize how much you always wanted it. It's going to be a challenge and a lot of fun: two things I always need.

I appreciate everyone I talked to afterwards for saying the right words to help me feel like my talent played as big a role as the Durham name. Obviously, feeling legitimate is important to me.

First concert: October 13th. If you are reading this, consider yourself invited.

That Person

I want to be that person who doesn’t let a gift, kind gesture, or invitation go without a phone call or hand-written thank you note.

I want to be that person who always remembers to bring a host/hostess gift.

I want to be that person who always has fresh flowers in her home.

I want to be that person who follows through on her ideas.

I want to be that person who doesn’t miss the opportunity to express to someone how their kindness made her day or how their words influenced her for the better.

I want to be that person who does something about a situation rather than complain about it.

I want to be that person who can offer a sincere and effective apology.

I want to be that person who doesn’t worry about what she can’t change.

I want to be that person who doesn’t let others’ perceptions prematurely sway her own.

I want to be that person who speaks only when her words are ready to be spoken.

I want to be that person who doesn’t give confidence to stereotypes.

I want to be that person who undoubtedly keeps her word.

I want to be that person other people aren’t afraid to be honest with.

I want to be that person who other people feel comfortable asking a favor.

I want to be that person who has season tickets to the theatre, symphony and ballet.

I want to be that person who doesn’t let junk pile up in her back car seat.

I want to be that person who puts 100% into each task she is assigned.

I want to be that person who wakes up at 5 AM and works out for a half hour, makes her bed, reads her scriptures, takes a shower and then is on time for work at 7 AM.

Breaking at Dawn

I love a good clothing sale. Even if I don’t end up buying anything, I still like to see what’s out there. A lot of online clothing stores have popped up around Utah – especially those boasting modest clothing options for those of us who like to be fashionable but don’t like to dress like Hollister models.

Last year my cousin Monica introduced me to Layers Clothing. She wore a really cute shirt to a fundraiser we were at and I ended up buying the exact same shirt. And I’ve bought several items since. Every summer, Layers has a clearance warehouse sale. I purposely avoided it last year because a) I hate crowds, b) I hate people pushing me, and c) I hate waiting in line.

Somehow, this year, I had the stupid idea of attending the sale. It started at 8 AM on Saturday. So I woke up a little earlier than I normally would. There’s something about being up, dressed, make-upped, and in your car with a “to do” list that makes you feel like you are going to have one productive day.

So I drove clear out to 4500 South for this sale. As I was pulling off the freeway I thought to myself, “Ugh. There are going to be a TON of people here.” And then I thought, “Laura, what makes you think everyone has the same idea you have? What makes you think everyone likes the same clothes you do and everyone, like you, is willing to wake up early on a Saturday just to get a deal?”

As I pulled into the Crestwood Business District at 7:50 AM, this is what I saw as I approached the Layers Warehouse:

I took my foot off the gas and coasted as I tried to decide whether I should just turn around and get the heck out of Dodge. But then I thought, “No, I woke up for this, I drove out here for this.”

So I parked. And I walked towards the line of women. I was about 200 people back. You’d think they were waiting in line for a rock concert. Or, to be more specific to the demograph, you’d think they were waiting in line for the opening of “Twilight”.

I would say 90% were in their early to mid 20’s. And I would say 50% of them were young mothers because 50% of them either had a pregnant belly or they brought their kids. “Who brings their kids to witness this madness?” I thought. Leave them with the husband. Just as I thought that a pregnant lady behind me said, “I thought about bringing my baby but decided it would be the worst idea in the world.”

It wasn’t until ten past eight that they opened the doors and everyone rushed in. Plastic bins with sizes written on them lined the folding tables, they had cookies and water coolers set out and a bunch of draped-off sections that said “don’t come back here, employees only.”

Obviously, it was hard to move around. I was expecting heartless, relentless pushing and shoving but was pleasantly surprised to find that some of the shoppers were very considerate. If I was looking in the same bin as someone, she would ask “What size are you looking for? If I come across it I’ll let you know.” Although everyone was pretty much looking for the same size (medium) so those went fast.

I grabbed about three items and decided I was done. I looked up to see where the line to pay started. It was already wrapping the perimeter of the warehouse – and I wasn’t even close to the front. Girls were taking turns waiting in line for each other as the other ones fetched cups of water and cookies. A teenager was sitting on a pile of clothes in a bin as she waited in line. Her mother pushed her forward a couple inches every 5 minutes or so. I chatted with the girls behind me. They were nibbling on cookies and complaining about anything they could think of. We commiserated.

Girls were trying on tops over their clothes. I decided to do the same with the swim top I grabbed. “Eh,” I thought as I threw it back in the bin to my left. I didn’t want it that bad.

It started to get hot. Girls were wiping their brow and putting their head between their legs. One of the girls who used to be behind me returned to her group and whispered something and then they, quite nonchalantly, left. Hmmm…I thought. Suspicious. Shortly after there was an announcement that the cashiers decided to form a second line. “What!” I screamed in my head. That's where those girls went. I felt a little betrayed.

I had been waiting in line for a half hour at this point and moved maybe 4 yards. I noticed the girl in front of me was reading a book with a black hardcover. She was about halfway through. I looked up and around and noticed a lot of girls had that book in line. I asked what she was reading and she said it was "Breaking Dawn" the new Twilight book that came out the night before. She waited in line all night for that too.

And that was my tipping point. Something happened inside me. Any desire I had for these remaining three items in my arms was quickly waning. I thought, “This is SO not my scene.”

I looked ahead of me and calculated how much longer I would be standing there based on how far I had moved in the past 30 minutes. I figured another 2 1/2 hours. I looked down at the orange dress I picked out and thought “Yeah, it’s only $10 but I don’t need it.” I took a big breath (I would say cleansing, but there was no clean air in there). A Layers employee walked past the line with a couple electric fans. I thought about all the things I needed to get done that day. I looked at my other two shirts and realized I would be perfectly happy without them. I looked around me one more time, set the clothes down on a table, and then walked out.

You might say I gave up; I couldn’t handle it. But I’m telling ya, I walked out of that sweat house feeling empowered and liberated. And perfectly capable of paying full price for a piece of clothing in a more desirable and accessible environment. Never again.

I can’t wait for their Fall line.

Living at the Rio

Last night I set my alarm for the first time since Quarter Day. The ten hour work day begins.

The official PR term from the Governor’s Office is “Working 4 Utah.” It puts emphasis on the fact that we’re only working 4 days to help us feel good about our jobs.

I actually didn’t sleep too soundly so when I did wake up to my 6:30 AM alarm, I had been kind of awake for awhile. I stayed in bed for about 5 minutes, letting my eyes adjust to being open. I took a shower last night so I wouldn’t have to worry about that this morning.

As soon as I stood up and walked out my bedroom, I heard the shower in the bathroom downstairs. “Crap.” I needed to leave the house in 10 minutes. I can’t wash my face, put in my contacts, brush my teeth or anything. “I’ll just use the bathroom at work” I thought to myself as I slapped some clothes on, slipped on the first pair of flip flops I saw on my floor and then walked downstairs. I grabbed a banana, my cell phone, my purse and I was out the door.

I noticed the sprinklers were on out front. I sometimes hear the sprinklers in the morning, but I rarely see them in action.

When I pulled into my building today I had my pick of the parking spots. I might be the only person who actually made it in by 7 AM. I wanted my first stop to be the bathroom, but the janitor had it closed for cleaning.

So I went to my office, turned on the news and sat down. I checked my phone messages but didn’t feel good about calling people at 7 AM so I decided to return those messages later.

Fletcher showed up around 7:22. He poked his head in my office and said, “Don’t tell anyone I was late OK?”

Around 7:55 AM, I went into Fletcher and Jim’s office to just sit. Lila hadn't come in yet. Jim asked me what I did this weekend. I couldn’t remember. We sat in silence for a little while. I asked Fletcher if he wanted to order our supplies from Kinkos. He told me he doesn’t think we should ask each other questions before 8 AM. I agree. At least when it comes to hard questions like “what did you do this weekend?” or “how are you?”

I’m trying to think of ideas that will make this ALL DAY AT WORK thing work. I'm also going to try and plan an errand or outing once a day mid afternoon. Like around 3 PM to help break up the day. I think I’m going to buy milk and cereal and keep it here so I can eat breakfast in the morning. Today was a no makeup day and I think a lot of days may end up being that way, so I’ll probably have to bring some lip stick or whatever too. And contact lenses. And a tooth brush. It’s so early. This will take some getting used to. But who knows, maybe I’ll end up liking it.

I must say, the gallery did look particularly beautiful at 7 AM in the morning. The lighting was a little bit magical.

While I was waiting for other people to do their work before I could finish my work I decided to be productive and rearrange the office. And reorganize the storage closet. That took about four hours.

Last night I put myself to sleep by making a mental list of what I’m going to do all day on Friday since I don’t have to work:

Get a massage (I’ve been meaning to do this for over a month now).
Go see a matinee of Dark Knight (still haven’t seen it). Maybe at the IMAX.
Go to Costco.

That’s as far as I got. Kristi, maybe you have ideas of what I can do on my day off since you are the expert of days off in the summer.