The Barracuda

Well, it can definitely be said that Republican VP nominee, Sarah Palin, is more attractive than her Maverick running mate. Political views and joking aside, it's pretty cool to think that come November we'll have a first either way: a woman as VP or an African-American as President.

And you have to admit that it's about time for both.

They're Called Bugs for a Reason

Do you know what is worse than having a mosquito bite within easy scratching distance on your leg?

Well, I'll tell you. Shaving your legs and cutting off the top of that bug bite. Not only does this bug bite bleed A LOT, but it still itches, but scratching it is now not only painful, but leads to more irritating bleeding. (That's a lot of 'buts').

Stupid bugs. It's like they know that they have just a little time left before the cold settles in and they will DIE!

So if you're not too busy blotting the blood on your leg, buy something for NieNie. It's the right thing to do.

Back to School

All over the blogosphere are pictures of little kids on their first day of school.

I, also, have returned to school. Notice my "office/classroom" in the picture below:


And notice me hard at work on school stuff below. If you look closely, you'll also see that Chaco tan on my foot. It's there to remind me that I did play hard over the past couple of months.

And that's the outline of the new Chapter Two on my laptop screen. That's also a picture of the laptop HP finally sent to me after 7 months of hassle. Remember that? I'll never forget.

Pictures of me in my new school outfits coming soon!

I bet you can hardly wait.

Not Letting Go

It can't be my last weekday of summer, can it? I'm not ready for it to be over. True, I have been playing hard, but unfortunately I spent this last day wanting to poke my eye out over my new Chapter 2 outline.

Instead, I am going to imagine myself prancing in this picture below, taken by Mom somewhere in the middle of Wyoming during our recent sojourn.


The mountains may be a necessity tomorrow. I need to make that a reality. NOW.

Big Gulps, eh?

Today is laundry day being as I am wearing my last pair of underwear. Yeah, I'm one of those who owns over 2 weeks worth of underwear because coming to the laundromat is a pain. And it costs quarters.

I have a routine when I come to the laundromat. I always come with my laptop and iPod in tow. I figure that laundry is all about multi-tasking. And the fortunate thing about the laundromat is that I can do 3 loads at the same time, so despite the pain of schlepping the load out of the door and into my car and into the laundromat and back, I can still be productive.

On my way to the laundromat I always stop for a 32 ouncer at 7-11. I need some refreshment while I sit in the humidity and I also need cash for the coin machine. So despite the fact that I am not drinking the large quantities of caffeine that I did pre-cleanse, I stopped like always at my local "Sev" today.

My routine was going along like usual. I had finally slept 8 hours last night, been to yoga in the AM, and I was feeling good. As I struggled to place the lid on my Big Gulp, the thought crossed my mind--"That would be really bad if I suddenly dropped this all over me." And as if I willed the cup to do that very act, I watched as 32 ounces of Diet Dr. Pepper flew up at me and all over the floor and me.

I stood there in disbelief. The workers chuckled to themselves for a bit until one of them took pity on me and handed me some paper towels to mop myself up while she mopped up the floor.


Other patrons made joking comments and all I could do was laugh. I resolved to leave that 7-11 with my Big Gulp. The worked commented as I made a second attempt, "If you spill that second one, maybe it's a sign that you shouldn't be drinking Coke."

Hmmph. What does she know?

However, I did leave that 7-11 with my drink, drove back home, changed all of my clothes, and was grateful to be on my way to the laundromat. Finally.

Some Big Love

I've decided that I'm not much of a fan of Woody Allen. Hate me for that opinion if you like. Kristen and I saw Allen's latest installment yesterday. While I do like his snapshots into people's lives, this snapshot was a bit much for me. Bizarre. Totally. However, like Kristen said after watching the movie, Penelope Cruz can even make Scarlett Johansen look homely.

At one point in the movie, there is discussion about how this passionate and wild painter is shacking up with two women. And one of the characters makes a joke that maybe this painter man is a--wait for it--Mormon.

Predictable. And not funny. It's not funny (besides the fact that it's no longer true), because it is so overdone. The joke resulted in major eye-rolling on my part and some uncomfortable snickering in the downtown SLC theater.

But really, can't Allen do better than that?

???

Why am I willing to sacrifice sleep for a boy even when I know it makes me a worthless human for several days after?

Why I Love the Internet: Reason #15

Check out THIS site all about ridiculous cakes. (Thanks, Katie!)

I am totally sold.

Old McDonald

I now have my mother's tan lines.

Up until age 19, I never worried about a farmer's (is that supposed to be a singular or plural "farmer"? I don't know) tan. Swimming year-round in an outdoor pool six days a week for 3-4 hours a day, tanning just took care of itself. Sure, I had the lines on my back and shoulders from a workout suit and sometimes I came out with a line across my forehead from my cap, but farmers' tans were never an option. Can we say "skin cancer"? Yeah, that's always still an option.

Soon after giving up the long hours in the pool, I still cared about my tan. I had to work at it now and I discovered that working at it was really, really boring. I hated laying out then and I hate it even more now. True, it gives me an excuse to read a book. And even now, I still know little of what to do at a pool besides swim laps. You mean to tell me that Marco Polo or that Colors game is fun? Granted, I love me some water basketball or a competitive game of Sharks and Minnows.

However, this summer I have embarrassingly been to a pool once. ONCE. It's pathetic, I know. And as a result of lots of hiking and just being outdoors in cap sleeves and shorts, I have very distinct tan lines across my biceps and just above my knees. I think I may even be sporting a faint "v" on my chest. I used to mock my mom for her white, white thighs and upper arms. I thought it was a sign of old age.

And while an almost all-over tan used to be oh, so important before, I'm thinking that at least now I have tan lines, which means that I've been outside doing stuff and have not been holed up in my apartment working on the "thing" all summer. Because that would definitely be a sign of old age.

Awkward Ninja

I am not a coordinated person.

Yes, I took dance classes as a little girl (like most little girls do), but that doesn't mean I was good. Put me in a sport that involves a ball or second-to-second unplanned action and I am impossible. I was a terrible handball player in elementary school. For some reason, I LOVED kickball in the first grade, but perhaps that was before the time that I became self-aware.

Swimming worked for me because it involves repetitive motions. Once you get those repetitive motions down, nothing changes. Not even the black line on the bottom of the pool. The backstroke flags are always the same distance from the wall. The pool always the same length. The action during an event always predictable.

Needless to say, I found myself floundering at the back of a kickboxing class yesterday. Kristen suggested it, informing me that it was a "good" class. First, I knew I was out of my comfort zone based merely on the attire worn by other class members. This was no yoga class--fatigues, make-up, and a newsboy hat? I had no idea I needed to look so fashionable to sweat. Second, the routine was already well-known by most of the class members. Third, I realized that I finally got a set of moves down once it was time to move on to a new move. So in reality, I spent most of the 60 minutes punching and kicking the air about 30 seconds behind everyone. I felt like a fool--the fool who despite barely doing the routine, was still huffing and puffing and dripping in sweat.

But I think I'm returning next week. I like to punish myself.

And with the cleanse over, Emily and I are starting the 100 push-up challenge on Monday. Considering I tried to do one "real" push-up last night as I watched Olympic coverage (I was feeling motivated), this challenge will be an amazing feat.

Oh, Wax Man

As my family and I watched Olympic coverage from hotel rooms throughout Montana, we all commented on how strange newscaster Bob Costas looks this go-around.

I found this older version of Bob and noticed that his face still looks waxy, like he just stepped out of Madame Tussauds', but a more recent version of Bob shows that he's also a proponent of 'Just for Men.' Oh, Bob.

But as ridiculous as I find most of the Olympic newscasters and commentators (how do you think it would feel to win a gold medal?), this is even more ridiculous. Oh, China.

Billings Day One

Part of yesterday was spent perusing Western wear stores in search of a straw hat for my sister. And during this sojourn, I found myself surrounded by the most hideous looking clothes in my life. I think that women's Western apparel takes the cake.

I'm not really sure when sequins, flames, embroidered roses, and the American theme became synonymous with calf-tying, roping, and ranching, but it's clear that they have. Perhaps it's just that "feminine touch."

And it seems that the brighter and flashier the clothes, the better. Hot pink is a definite wardrobe choice. Get a hot pink cowboy hat with hot pink boots and you'll be the Barbie of the arena. I think it must help the cows see you better or something.

If I were a cowgirl, I would go for this flame shirt. It is HOT. And I think that this model looks instantly tougher--like she could wrestle a bull or something. Black is slimming, too. Tough & skinny = winning look.

I have a feeling though that this model has never pitchforked a bale of hay in her life. And neither has this girl. Do you pitchfork hay? They do so on the movies and movies are totally real.

Light Speed

This week has flown by and it wasn't until a second ago that I realized today is the first of August. AUGUST! How did that happen?

Perhaps this time warp speed is due to the fact that I finally nailed down a dissertation topic, sent off a brief summary to my committee, and I'm waiting to get the green light. My mind doesn't know what to do with all of this focus. I mean, now it's all primed and ready to be productive, something this Red personality has found waning in her life. True, watching Dr. Quinn and hiking the Wasatch are productive past times, but this brain of mine has missed actual thinking and seeing the results of productivity. I honestly haven't felt this energized about school in months.

Or perhaps it's due to the fact that I know I'm going to a cabin tonight and taking off for Montana to see the parentals on Sunday.

Or that these hot, hot days can only last for so much longer.

Or that I'm able to eat cheese again.

And a Slurpee could be in my future.

Regardless, it's only a couple more weeks until the daily grind begins. I think it could hold off a wee bit longer. Please.