This is What We Do

On Black Friday, while the majority of Americans (or so I hear) were out hitting the stores at ridiculous hours of the morning, I found myself visiting cemeteries in Morgan, Utah. (Shout out to Tasha!--one of my favorite Morganites).

These cemetery visits happened after visiting the SLC cemetery early Thanksgiving morning with my dad. Perhaps oddly, I happen to know where most of the famous dead Mormons are buried in that large plot of land. And I really find that place fascinating. Combine my knowledge of headstone geography with my dad's historical knowledge and we have ourselves quite a tour.

But Friday morning was all about our dead relatives who settled Morgan and later were sent to settle the Big Horn Basin in Wyoming. I'm pretty sure that they had to have been pretty upset after leaving that beautiful valley to find the barrenness of Wyoming. And it is these relatives who connect my blood with neighbor Joel's blood. Distant cousins seem to abound everywhere.

Of course it's easier to discover distant relations when you come from large Mormon families with multiple wives and herds of children. But if anything, Thanksgiving definitely makes you grateful for your roots--for the sacrifices they made so that you can enjoy the bounty that we now have.

Guffaw. Snort. Chuckle.

Yeah, I did it. I saw Twilight.

And it was...meh, at best.

But I did laugh out loud in some parts. I don't think they were supposed to be funny.

It's a good thing I didn't see it opening weekend. I may have been stoned.

Noah's Ark

"If you could be any animal, what would you be and why?"

"This is like one of those sick speed dating questions," I protested.

"Just answer the question."

We were driving back from an excursion to Target. I had miraculously escaped with spending only $31 and for some reason, I was completely exhausted on a Monday evening at 8pm. I didn't have much energy to put up a protest.

"Sigh...an orangutan, I guess."

"Why?"

"Because they're my favorite animal to see at the zoo. They actually do stuff and they're interesting."

"Okay, and your second choice?"

"I guess a giraffe because they're graceful and they have cool, blue tongues."

She laughed.

"And you're third choice?"

I didn't realize I needed to think about animals in a ranked order, but "A jaguar because they're sleek and fast. So are you going to tell me why you asked?"

She explained, "Your first choice is how others see you. Your second choice is how you see yourself and your third choice is how you really are."

So the moral: I'm just a clever, glossy-haired, blue-tongued over-sized monkey.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

Inconvenience

In my zeal for escaping and traveling this summer and to "save" a bit of money, I signed myself up for this traveler's club.

It turned into a joke. I never used it and then realized that I was receiving a monthly charge for their non-service.

On Halloween, I contacted them to cancel this service. Despite informing me that my account would be canceled, I continued to receive emails from them. I re-contacted them, inquiring as to why I was still receiving their "service" if I had canceled my account.

And I received the following nine days later:

We regret to inform you at present, we are experiencing a backlog in the department that handles account closures. It could take 2-4 weeks for them to close your account. Please accept my apology for any inconvenience this may cause you.

Inconvenience to me? Well, don't let me inconvenience YOU! Someone please explain to me why it takes 2-4 weeks to CANCEL an account.

My response: Well, then I would like a refund for the monthly fee I am going to be charged for your "service" from the date of my request to cancel and the time it actually takes for your company to get it done.

Is there a way to block a charge on a credit card? If so, I'm all over it.

Do Over

A new dress didn't make me feel better.

Neither did a new cute boxy jacket. All Hepburn style. All Target.

Washing the dishes didn't do it.

Pacing around didn't either.

And a Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich didn't help. Much.

Sometimes even the fall backs don't work.

In that case, it's probably best just to go to bed and hit "do over."

My Space

Last night we delivered food for Thanksgiving dinner to several seniors living in a downtown low-income high-rise building.

On our third delivery, we were greeted by a man who was clearly not wearing clothes; he shielded himself with the door. Excusing himself, he closed the door and reappeared a few minutes later merely wearing a flower-patterned sheet. He invited us in, since clasping a sheet to his body and carrying food while maintaining some sense of modesty proved impossible.

An instant wall of cigarette smoke greeted us as we walked into the kitchen. Trash littered the floor and heaps of clothes served as furniture in the living room. After dumping our wares, we quickly escaped.

Contrast this scene with our fourth delivery. A smiling, cherub-like woman opened the door, gesturing for us to come in while trying to tell us in her broken English that she was excited to see not only a large box of food, but also a turkey.

Her house was warm and inviting and immaculate. And she was beaming, so pleased to have us in her kitchen. I won’t lie; I could have stayed a while, but it was time to leave.

It’s amazing how a space with the exact floor plan in the same building, only floors away can be so intensely different--how a space so reflects its inhabitant.

And it has me thinking, what does my space reflect?

Currently, in my bedroom, I have clothes strewn everywhere. I blame part of this mess on my teeny-tiny, dark closet; I hate putting things in it. But my bed is unmade. I can't find my planner. And my desk is used for storage and not for work.

It's a sad, sad commentary on my life.

Jr. High Mistress

It shouldn't amaze me that I got a lot of work done on a manuscript because I was sequestered in the bowels of a junior high school without wireless internet access which meant I did not:

1. gchat
2. dominate in Scrabble on Facebook
3. cyberstalk on Facebook
4. reply to emails
5. refresh etsy a hundred times a hour
6. online shop

It's really too bad that I'm not doing my part to help our economy.

The Process of Revision

I am in a constant state of revision.

I have several manuscripts that all need to be revised. NOW. I've come to believe that the revision process is much more painful than the drafting process. While I complain about getting ideas down on paper, when it comes right down to it, just writing stuff is simple. But writing good stuff? Well, that takes much more work.

When I taught writing to 7th graders, most of them believed that "revision" was checking for commas, misspellings, and writing in their best handwriting. They grimaced and moaned when I told them that revision dealt with the "big" stuff--rewriting whole sections, deleting paragraphs, rephrasing awkward phrases. They didn't want to deal with the "big" stuff. It took too much time and effort and it was just hard. Most of them simply skipped it altogether. They either wanted to write a perfect draft the first time or just skip to the part where I gave them a grade and they could throw their paper in the trash--never to think about it again.

I've realized that I'm often like a 7th grade writer when it comes to my life. So often, I want to skip the "big" stuff--all of that revision. It takes time and effort and it's hard. I just want to get to the end when I can find out how I did, when I can learn the outcome, when I can move forward. So I just move from one task to the next, always trying just to finish, because in my mind it's about getting from point A to B as quickly and efficiently as possible.

However, life has this way of withholding the final outcome for a time--sometimes a long time. And so I stew, kicking and pushing, trying to make things change when really it may be best to just put things aside for a while. Be patient. Breathe. Be still. I know that after tabling a manuscript for a bit, I come back to it refreshed, with a different viewpoint, and better able see what needs to be done, what needs to be fixed, deleted, or rewritten completely.

I'm trying this with my life. I'm trying to enjoy the process, because that's really what life is all about--it's a process--sometimes one that is cyclical, but eventually propels us forward. And, yes, revision in my life can be painful and frustrating and patience-testing, but I am coming to realize that it is through this process that I learn the most about myself.

Moving On Up

We've moved on up to Level 2 of the 30 Day Shred.

Emily did level 2 for the first time late last night. She had an audience. Neighbor Nate, who is seen above talking on the phone to his roommate Joel, decided he should spectate and try to persuade Joel that "shredding" was just too good to miss.

It's one thing to huff and puff and collapse all by yourself, but to do it with an audience--I think that takes to a whole new level, especially when the audience refuses to leave.

Who is that little boy peering in the window?

Emily and I are going to collapse now. Thank you very much.

Getting in Touch with My Feminine Side

There is something satisfyingly womanizing about wearing a slinky dress, hot heels, and an apron for the better part of the day.

Brrr...

It turned into Winter overnight.

I just love coming out to my car in the AM and dealing with this...

Yep, that is frozen Diet Coke with a lemon.

You never know when you're going to need it!

Un-Christian

I have mentioned previously that I teach online graduate classes for a university (not the one I currently attend). I will be the first to admit that I teach these classes for the extra cash and not because I really believe in this university or its programs. For the most part, I am an elitist snob in this regard and believe that sitting in a classroom usually provides a more quality learning experience. True, some people do wonderfully reading from books on their own and working at their own pace, but judging from the quality of work I receive, this program is not producing quality students.

I am often incredibly surprised by the lack of professionalism and decorum from some of these online students. This morning I checked in on these students and found a discussion post declaring that I was acting "un-Christian" (among other things) because I removed a student's post from the discussion board. The content of this post was fine, except it was posted in the wrong place and had nothing to do with the discussion question posted in the forum. The student wrote this post at the same time I had received several requests from other students wanting to clean up the discussion board for ease of readability--a perfectly reasonable request. However, the vitriolic-post writer clearly took my actions as an attack on her personally and reacted in what I would call an un-Christian-like manner.

But who am I to judge?

Would this same student have said these things to me in a face-to-face encounter? If she had known me as a person rather than just a name and an email address? Probably not. The anonymity of the Internet provided this student with protection. She felt safe, especially since she was dropping the class. She knew I had no way to "retaliate."

I'm reminding myself that I need the money. It always seems to come down to money, doesn't it?

I'll Rock That Vote

The day is FINALLY here.

I voted this morning. I did not have to stand in a line. But I did have to deal with the torrential down pour.

And I voted provisionally.

Provisionally?

Yeah, I'm not really sure what that means either except that when I showed up at my local church building, they could not find me on the voter sheet. Funny, I voted there in the primary. And, yes, I was at the correct voting precinct. My landlord was even there to vouch for my place of residence. And, no, I have not recently changed my name. Can you suddenly become unregistered?

So I voted the old-fashioned way, filling in the bubbles with a ballpoint pen. And then I shoved my ballot in an envelope and put it in a little red box.

So should I be worried that I have to wait TWO WEEKS to call some phone number to learn the status of my ballot? I am none too pleased, County Clerk.

I mean, we're making history here, people.

The After Party

Christian fully embraced the start of his 30s yesterday by taking a swim in Jordanelle Reservoir early in the morning. It didn't matter that it was in the high 30s and raining.

Here's to one fantastic year!