I Have a New Happy Place

I make no secret of the fact that I love grocery shopping. I do. I love it. Sometimes I prefer to go by myself so I can peruse the aisles as many times as I want without being rushed. I've even been known to go grocery shopping for people who hate it. While it makes them tense and anxious, it calms me and sometimes energizes me.

However, not every grocery store is created equal. In May of 2009 I flew into London to stay with my parents who were teaching there at the time. They were on a train returning back to London from somewhere, so I dropped my luggage off in their flat (oh man, I really want to go back) and headed outside towards Kensington. Where did I go first? Whole Foods. It's not like I'd never been to Whole Foods before it's just that the store in Kensington is the most celestial of all the Whole Foods kingdoms in the land. They have a station where you can mix your own granola, they have a café and bistro upstairs where you can get crepes, paninis, soups, anything. The layout, design and merchandising appeals to me I suppose. But what impresses me most, is at the top of the stairs, just by the bistro is a glass door that says “art department” on it. Inside you can watch all the graphic designers at work. Any place of business that highlights the importance of art in their success wins me over. So I bought a scone for me, some flowers for my mom (it was Mother's Day), and sat down in the lounge and enjoyed myself as I looked out at the double-decker buses and taxis passing by. I visited that Whole Foods often during my three week stay.

Salt Lake City is lucky enough to have a couple Whole Foods within a reasonable proximity. I go there on occasion. It’s nothing like the Kensington Whole Foods, and apparently nothing like the one in Park City (a friend told me they have an oatmeal bar for breakfast which I would definitely enjoy).

A couple years ago I visited the new Harmon’s down by IKEA. I heard all sorts of wonderful things about it: how big it was, the little café upstairs, the gelato bar…so I had to go see it for myself.

I walked in bright eyed and bushy tailed with my little cart (I like the little carts) and looked around like I had just stepped into Disneyland, not sure where I should go first. I walked over to the deli section where I saw a man giving away samples of cheese. He was light and jolly and friendly to everyone who walked by. It took me a minute before I thought, "Hey, I know that guy!" I was surprised because it was a man I would normally describe as a curmudgeon of sorts, but here, at Harmon’s he’s happy. And how could you be anything but happy, bringing people joy by introducing them to mouthwatering cheeses. I envied him a little.

I longed for a Harmon’s closer to my home in downtown SLC. If I’m ever driving in Holladay or Sandy, I always do some shopping at Harmon’s. I guess I prefer to support local businesses; I like that they sell local products (even though most grocery stores have that offering these days).

But I have a new happy place. Maybe it’s because the downtown Harmon’s isn’t here yet, and it’s true I have not yet been to the new Whole Foods at Trolley, but my loyalties have divided.

On Tuesday I shopped at the new Sunflower Market on 200 South and 700 East. It was advertised as having it's "grand" opening on Wednesday, but I did a slow drive by a week earlier and on the doors I saw a sign that read “sneak preview” on Tuesday. So after work, I snuck in.

Now, I shop at Sunflower Market often, but I normally drive to Murray to do it. So, the fact that SM is now 5 minutes from my home is point number one. They get another point for having the “half carts” as I like to call them. Maybe it’s because I don’t have an entire family to shop for, but I love not having to push a giant cart around a grocery store. It’s a perfect size for Laura and there’s a nice little slot for my purse.

Sunflower Market is a chain in the western states, but they sell local produce and other products. My favorite thing about this place is their emphasis on produce. It’s mostly all about the produce. They sell high quality fruits and vegetables for much less than you would find at Smith’s, Harmon’s and (especially) Whole Foods. You can get a head of green leaf lettuce for 99 cents. Smith’s price? $2.49.

Also if you hit the sales right you can get raw almonds for $3.99 lb, dark chocolate covered almonds for $4.99 lb, organic steel cut oats for 89 cents a lb, and all sorts of other great bulk items. I also stocked up on strawberries for 88 cents a lb. which was awesome. They have a new sale each Wednesday that you can have emailed to you weekly. The flyer also lists all the fruits and vegetables which are currently in season.

Maybe it’s because food makes me so happy – especially good quality and nutritious food, but I’ll probably be going to the giant Smith’s a lot less and the little Sunflower Market a lot more. Tonight I need to pick up some fennel, an onion and a red pepper so I can make this:

Early Bird Special at Canyon Creek

Up until Saturday afternoon, I hadn’t visited Grandma since Christmas Eve. My days off fill up pretty fast sometimes, but this past weekend I was free. Last time I saw Grandma I brought her soup. She was at lunch when I came by so I brought it to her table in the dining hall. She accidentally spilled it all over and felt SO bad. I told her I’d bring her soup again, and so the other day I made some mushroom and barley soup, hopped in my car and drove myself to Canyon Creek.

When I walked into her room, she was laying down on the bed and told me to come join her. This picture is of her asking me questions such as "Who are you dating these days? What makes you happy?" and "Where's your father?" She asked if I wanted to join her downstairs for dinner. For some reason I said "sure!" like it was the best idea I've heard in a long time.

And it was.

On the way down we ran into other residents, and some nurses that work there. Everyone greeted Grandma with a “Hi sweetie!” “Hi Betty!” “Hi cute thing!” and that annoyed Grandma to no end. It was so weird. This little nurse said, “Hi sweet Betty” and then before Grandma could interject, the nurse beat her to the punch and said “Oh, stop that!” This scowl came across Grandma’s face like I’ve never seen.

“Grandma, what’s wrong?”
“They always say, ‘Hi Betty, How are you Betty? Good to see you Betty!”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Betty is such a common name.”
(Me laughing), “You don’t like your name?”
“I think Elizabeth is nicer, don’t you?”
“Is Elizabeth your full name?”
“No. Laura is a nice name. There’s a whole movie about a girl named Laura”

And then she started to sing the theme song to the 1944 murder mystery.

We sat down to dinner and realized I couldn’t order anything because I didn’t have a meal card, nor did I want to buy one (I wasn’t hungry). But they gave me a Dr. Pepper. Grandma briefed me on all the ladies that would be joining us at the table up in her room. She told me all about Maureen, Charlotte, Edith and Carol. Edith is in love with Shane, their physical therapist and she is 96, but she looks younger than Grandma (91). Charlotte is from Georgia, and Carol lives off scrambled eggs and Coke.

I sat at Maureen’s place because she was gone. Carol and Charlotte joined us eventually.

Grandma ordered the soup.
Charlotte ordered a hot dog.
Carol ordered scrambled eggs and a Coke.

Apparently Carol always orders a Coke at the table and then one to go so she can drink it up in her room and stay awake for Craig Ferguson. “If you ever have indigestion, drink a Coke,” Carol said as she fished the ice out of her cup with a fork and put it in an empty cup (much like another person I know). I told her I prefer Dr. Pepper. Carol agreed it was tastier. Grandma started to talk about how Dr. Pepper is better for you than Coke...that discussion went on for awhile.

Then we talked about Craig Ferguson. Carol formulated a detailed argument about why he was funny that eventually satisfied Grandma.

After about 10 minutes of conversation Grandma finally tasted her soup. She took two bites and then sent it back. Then she went on and on about the soup I brought her last time I came. “Did you know, Laura brought me some soup, and I spilled it all over the table.” The ladies seemed familiar with the story. So familiar in fact that they could tell it back in better detail than Grandma could. Then Grandma told Carol that I brought her some mushroom and barley soup. “Doesn’t that sound delicious?” she asked, to which Carol replied “No, it sounds awful. I don’t like barley and I don’t like mushrooms.”

We talked about Charlotte a little bit (she was sitting at the table, but she wasn’t so talkative). Apparently Charlotte and her husband moved to Hercules, Utah (didn’t know there was such a place) because her husband was going to work on the atomic bomb. “And then they had six nuclear kids” Carol said.

But most of the conversation was centered around the less than satisfactory food they serve at Canyon Creek. They complained about the chef and how he is cheap and doesn’t know how to cook. He always serves cake with a dollop of jam on top and no one at that table likes cake.

It wasn’t long before the waiter brought out dessert. Tonight it was little saucers with a scoop of chocolate chip ice cream. Grandma, Carol and Charlotte, to my surprise, all picked up their forks to eat the ice cream. Charlotte, after saying virtually nothing for the past 45 minutes says, “Does anyone have a blow torch?” That's when Grandma started to laugh so hard tears streamed down her face. “You see, they scoop out the ice cream,” (ten seconds of laughter), “and then they put it back in the freezer” (laughing), “and then...and then he takes it out and gives it to us when it’s hard as a rock.” They all started chipping away at the ice cream with their forks and ate two or three little shavings at a time.

During dessert Grandma and Carol talked about healthy food, vs. unhealthy food. Grandma got a little impatient and looked at Carol to say, “Just because you married a doctor doesn’t mean you have all the answers.” Carol’s response is what earned her my favorite person of the week award:

“I’ve never used that as an excuse.”

Edith, who eventually joined us at the table didn’t touch her ice cream. She told the waiter she didn’t want it. The waiter took it away and my grandma said to him, “Well, are you just going to waste that?”

“No, we have a freezer we can put it in for tomorrow.”

I'm definitely doing this again.

Laura's Line

You may have heard Google has listed my office phone number and address for just about every state government service imaginable. I've gone through phases of the many stages when it comes to dealing with this: denial, frustration, anger, acceptance. After a couple days of having fun with it, I've looped back into avoidance. I just don't answer my phone.

But if you've stepped into my office at any given time the past couple months you might have overheard me say the following:

Hey Kiley, after listening to your message I suggest you have your boyfriend take a paternity test before you put his name on the birth certificate. Oh, and you got the wrong number.

Hmm...you know, I’m actually not sure how you get a business license. I hear you can do it online. When you find out will you call me back and let me know?

What’s softy base?

We don’t offer any anger management classes here, but did you see the movie Anger Management? It sucked right?

Hi, so...you’re getting married tomorrow...and you need a marriage license today? First: congratulations. Second: How long have you known this guy...

You saw a cute dog on KSL? A female terrior? Aww...sorry, you have the wrong number. My sister is looking for a dog. Did you have a dog growing up? I had a Lhasa Apso.

Yes, please hold while I look up “quit claim deed” so I can better pretend to assist you.

How long have you had the restraining order out on your ex husband?

Sorry, this isn’t the West Jordan pregnancy hotline.

You want me to calibrate your ice truck meters?

Hey, sorry about your cattle. I don’t have them.

Okay, okay. I need you to calm down. Did you see the person who threw away your stuff? Oh she’s your friend? Man, that sucks.

Hi Rob, I don’t know what it means to shorten the barrel on your shotgun, but I’m going to say it’s highly illegal. And please, stay away from me and my family.

Last Dream Sequence Sunday

All right. This is the last one. This dream wasn't mine, but it was my mom's. Noteworthy. Mostly it's the dialogue that was funny.

Sunday, April 22, 2001

Saturday I went with my mom to Gardner Hall to help her set up for the fundraiser. I hadn't talked to her for awhile. Here is a consolidated recap of one of our conversations:

"Laura Honey, can I borrow your credit card to buy something online?"

"Sure, whad'ya wanna buy?"

"I want to adopt a turtle."

"What?"

"I saw this thing on TV where you can pay $25 to adopt these turtles that are endangered species. They send you a packet with a picture of your turtle. They have little satellites on them so you can watch what your turtle does and where he goes on the website."

"Mom...these people are making so much money."

"No, it's the endangered species people. Besides, didn't I tell you about the turtle dreams I've been having?"

"You're having turtle dreams?"

"Yes. Last week I had a dream I found this huge shell. You know how I find shells at the beach and then put them in the sun to dry? And sometimes they have creatures living inside them still? And then they shrivel up and die? Well the turtle was shriveling up inside this big shell I found. It was so sad. You know how E.T. was when he was sick? It was like that.

And then the other night I had a dream that all these turtles and crabs crawled in the house from the basement. They were everywhere. You and I were chasing them out with brooms. We could see them through the glass doors and they wanted to come in so badly. The next day, I saw the turtle ad on TV so I feel like I need to do something about the endangered turtles."

I Like You...but it's a secret.

That is one classy yam.

I’m sitting here, cutting and pasting Valentines I plan to give to some friends in my neighborhood. My first instinct when delivering these is to set them on the porch, ring the doorbell and then run like hell.

That’s what we did when we were little, right? Why did we do that? Even my mom would somehow find a way to sneak out of the house, set up little presents on the door step, ring the doorbell and then run inside before her kids were the wiser. One time I was at my parents' house (I think I was 24) and heard a knock on the door leading out to the garage from the family room where I was sitting. I opened the door, looked down and saw some Valentines treats. Then I looked to my left to find my mom, back pressed up against the wall, fists up to her face, hoping I wouldn't see her.

Where did this idea of doorbell ditching come from? Don’t get me wrong, it was totally fun. But for some reason we just didn’t want to face the person and say, “Happy Valentine's Day. This is for you because I like you.”

So, to those of you who still read this blog of mine, Happy Valentine's Day! Go ahead and leave an anonymous comment (it’s the equivalent of a doorbell ditch). It's a Valentine's Day tradition so it's cool.

Dream Sequence Sunday

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

Sunday, October 14, 2001

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

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

Dream Sequence Sunday

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

Sunday, October 14, 2001

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

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

Zoom Zoom!…and Whoo Whoo!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Owls have a way of seeing through pretence.
Totally.

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

Dream Sequence Sunday

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

Monday, November 5, 2001

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

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

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

Dream Sequence Sunday

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

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


Thursday, September 28, 2000

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

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

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

Dream Sequence Sunday

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


Thursday, March 15, 2001

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

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

That's all I remember.

On Quitting...and self importance

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sigh. I feel better already.

Cousins

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

Things That Make Me Smile

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, LAURA, there is a Parking Santa Claus

---

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

I wish to appeal my parking ticket.

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

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

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

Merry Christmas,

Laura

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

Good Morning Laura,

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

Thanks,

Suzy//Appeals

---

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

Sure Suzy,

My ticket number is 1310003472.

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

Time Issued 13:38
Meter #79

My license number is xxx xxx

---

APPEALS RESPONSE

University of Utah
Commuter Services

APPROVED No further action is required on your behalf.

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

Have a great day,

Suzy//Appeals

I WILL have a great day :)

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

Cioccolato

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

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

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

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

The Margo -- My Dough Girl

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


Bittersweet Chocolate Pudding -- Cafe Trio

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


Raspberry Chocolate Gelato -- Dolcetti's

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


Molten Chocolate Lava Cake -- Faustina

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

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

"Flats are for quitters"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyone have boot recommendations?

This is Halloween

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

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

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

First you trace the bat:

Then you cut it out:


Then you glue a clothespin:


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


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


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

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

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

Do you like science?

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

Where do you work? and my favorite...

Why do you work?

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

Check out Miss Sorenson's blog.

Trick or Treat

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

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

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

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

Grandma's House

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes! IJEA," she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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