Not so old after all?

Here I am at the ward Christmas party. Its the middle of the prayer, and my friend Jen is "poking" me. I am snickering uncontrollably, finally having to hold my nose so I don't make noise. Obviously Mike is not behaving very reverently either, because he is the one taking the picture. SHAME ON US!

Nutcracker

Message

HEY PEOPLE!!

If you are "nervous" or "concerned" about driving in the snow, STAY HOME! If you don't have the temerity to exceed 15MPH in your LEXUS SUV with a little slush on the street, Target can wait--STAY HOME! If you can't tell the lane from the curb, and think you should just "follow" the tracks" of the car in front of you (never mind that it is coming TOWARDS you), then might I suggest that you STAY HOME? And FINALLY, if you get stuck EVERY TIME you drop your kids off at the front door of the elementary school, blocking 100 other cars with 4-wheel-drive, then maybe your little DARLINGS can brave the 10-yard walk from the parking lot or even from the street, and you can SPARE US ALL the 30 minute wait while you, still in your slippers and robe, wait for enough of us poor IDIOTS in shoes to push your minivan off the ice.

Thinking...

It may seem ridiculous at “my age” to be trying to figure out “who I am,” (sorry to leap immediately into the overused cliché of adolescence), but a combination of recent influences has left me with a lingering surface uneasiness that I may not actually know what I am. Setting aside the more overt questions like “Who am I?” and “What is my purpose in life?” (there are some really interesting and inspiring answers to these questions on my church’s website), I want to know why I am the way I am. Moot as this point may be, given that my children hopefully inherited my egotistical determination that I WILL be whatever/whomever I choose, I have still thought long and hard about the people I hope my children will become, and how to parent them best so that they actually have a chance to be those people. Centuries ago, there were people strewn across the british isles (we can trace most lines back to the 17th century to Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and Suffolk, England) living their lives, raising their families, and making the kind of decisions that while merely life-altering to them, were so monumental in the grand scheme of things that looking back I can only gape and wonder at where they got the nerve. John Rencher was born in 1712 in Ireland, but his son John Grant was born in Raleigh, NC in 1750. He probably left his homeland during or after the famine in 1740. I wonder if he resolved to spare himself and his progeny cold and hunger. That we know of, there were at least 3 generations of Renchers (probably Renshaws) who had lived successively in the same place in Ireland, likely many more. Were they in favor with the British occupiers? Was his flight an escape from some unknowable political conflict? What can he have thought of North Carolina when he arrived? He MUST have wondered if he would ever be COOL again. On and on it goes, my grandmother’s line arrives much later in America, sometime between 1831 and 1873, while the Stewart line, (my mother’s) abandoned Scotland between 1650 and 1674, when my 7-times great-grandfather was born in North Carolina (again North Carolina!). They completely missed the uprisings! I wonder what flaws of character they might have passed on to me—or strengths, if I have any. I wish I knew more about them than can be represented by the date and place of birth and death, although I am grateful for that, of course. I believe that one way to make my life more than just a b.1972, UT, USA is somehow to infuse in my children whatever good I have in me. The thing I am trying so clumsily to articulate is that I don’t know what was given me by the confluence of destiny that is my family heritage, and how the heck to pass it on.

Little piece of childhood.....

Circus animals, the smell of Jergens lotion, the cool, dry air of basement playrooms, and the hugs of extended family strangers all remind me of our almost-yearly treks back to the western US into the embrace of my family heritage. Fresh from our East Coast isolation, it always took a day or two to warm up to the cousins, aunts, uncles and grandmas that all seemed to go together just fine without us. And if (a BIG IF) we got lucky, we'd get these pink and white sugar-balls to go along with the reunion. I'm on my way after work to see if I can find some because I just found out that MOTHER'S, after 94 years in business, gave up the ghost last month. Goodbye circus animal cookies--I, for one, am going to miss you.

Distressing...

"It is disturbing that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is being singled out for speaking up as part of its democratic right in a free election.

Members of the Church in California and millions of others from every faith, ethnicity and political affiliation who voted for Proposition 8 exercised the most sacrosanct and individual rights in the United States — that of free expression and voting.

While those who disagree with our position on Proposition 8 have the right to make their feelings known, it is wrong to target the Church and its sacred places of worship for being part of the democratic process.

Once again, we call on those involved in the debate over same-sex marriage to act in a spirit of mutual respect and civility towards each other. No one on either side of the question should be vilified, harassed or subject to erroneous information."

See What Happens???

Obama Win Causes Obsessive Supporters To Realize How Empty Their Lives Are

NO WAY...

No possible way I could eat this fruit...

From THIS tree.

More voices...

Voices from the past...

Speak to me in countless ways.

Today I had dinner with 4 of the women I worked with for those 2 years in our posh office on Byelorusskaya (how can any western company hope to establish itself without "A" class office space?). It was extaordinary--Anyuta with her everlasting good humor and pragmatism, retaining her deprecatory confidence in spite of what can only be called a STELLAR rise through the ranks of corporate "america (albeit inside MKAD)," Natasha, fierce, sweet and kind, Ksenia (Ksyusha, for you russian speakers) with her passion and intellect, and finally, ANNA, who if she weren't the big boss could honestly be a SUPERMODEL--the chronic, niggling ache of missed friends was immediately eclipsed by the happiness of reunion--hugs, half-russian, half-english babblings, and shared emotions. "Is Tatiana still....? NO WAY! You didn't marry after all? Oh not YET!! yes, i like it but its no NUSKIN! You are kidding--pajamas with the logo on stage? Ridiculous!" all accompanied by laughing, bemoaning, shrieking and every other kind of emotional display possible. I'm sure the servers thought we were insane. But we even laughed at that. I miss those girls.

Halloween decorations

All Day And All Of The Night

Last weekend was the official launch of the start-up company that I have been working with for the last 5 months. We had a long week of last minute preparations. I calculated the hours I worked between Monday the 13th of October and Monday the 20th and the grand total was: 72.5, not including the travel time for 3 round trips to the city (6 more hours). I have to say that we did acheive a TON with only the small staff and tiny budget we have. Check out our product guide--I'm really proud of it AND our products--you can click on it and see inside!!

Fine, rub it in....

Yes, we all know you won the Bling Cup by identifying more 80's sitcom theme songs than anyone else. And faster. You knew the theme songs for Alf and Mr. Belvedere 3 notes into the songs, and no one else even knew them when they were over. I concede your superior knowledge.

Middle Ages--Part II (Family Prayer)

I was running late getting ready for bed. They were all waiting for me, kneeling around Grandma's bed, as usual. Unusually, there was silence as I dashed from my room. This is what I found: perfectly content to wait, they picto-chatted happily away...PICTO WHAT?? I'm old.

I'm gonna miss this guy...

The only silver lining in the depressing cloud of this Presidential Election is that either one of the new guys may actually be this dumb, too. I may vote Republican just so I can spend the next four years laughing at Sarah Palin's gaffes.

Scout Outing

Yesterday a friend and I took the boys (YES, count them, 8 BEARS!!) over to the City Services Fair--all of the city empoyees were there--Fire and Rescue, Fire Dept, Police, Waste Mgt, City Water, City Electricity, the Historical Dept, the City Library--etc etc. It was fun and the boys each got a bag and collected candy and swag at every booth. They were REALLY good and polite and got to do some cool things. Everyone treated us well, they really go out of their way for the scouts around here.

The boys got to see all kinds of interesting displays and we got several achievements' worth of stuff done. Here they all are with McGruff, the Crime Dog.

I'm not sure why the police dept. had a table with stuffed wild animals on it, I don't THINK they were trying to scare the kids, but all the same the stuffed cougar face (it wasn't really a whole head) peeking up out of the candy was pretty creepy. Maybe one of the officers was a deranged Ute fan trying to make a statement...

Here's Nick trying out the fire hose. He said it almost "knocked me over!"

Um.....

Came across this product today...??? (and no, its not my company's product!)

Middle Ages--Part I

I am middle-aged. Surprise or no (it was for me), its true--I have officially and, oddly enough, proudly, entered the ranks of the no-longer-young. My first indication was my dissatisfaction with the radio show I have been listening to for more than a decade. The dj's continual rantings about the ugly new UTAH license plates really got on my nerves. Mike and I found ourselves asking each other at night "Can you believe how stupid the morning show has gotten?" Maybe, I submit, the morning show hasn't changed--I HAVE. Was I ever dumb enough to think this crap was entertaining? SERIOUSLY, who cares about organizing a political movement to bring back the old "Ski Utah" plates? While I actually agree with him about the plate, I just couldn't stomach another morning of the complaining.
Then there was the whole "I Kissed A Girl"/police incident. I was driving home from work in a residential neighborhood, while listening to the radio. A song came on the radio about a girl kissing another girl, tasting her cherry chapstick, and liking it. "SINCE WHEN DID THIS BECOME A LESBIAN RADIO SHOW?", I asked myself, checking the dial to be sure it wasn't on the wrong number. I was not titillated or aroused, JUST HORRIFIED. What if Maddy heard this? How the heck would I explain? THEN, I notice the sirens and flashing lights in my rearview mirror. I was going 28 in a 25 and the officer had been following me for 6 blocks. He gave me a ticket. I blame it on that song, that dj, and that station. And the fact that I am too old... (The fact that I don't blame the cop is yet another confirmation that I am getting O-L-D)

After a few brushes with AM radio, Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity and other frighteningly ignorant radical talk radio hosts, I happily settled on the lower end of the FM dial, to National Public Radio. It used to irritate me that my "older" collegues would listen to NPR on their radios (low volume) at work. The other day I walked in to work, heard NPR and thought--"hey, I was just listening to that in the car, I wish he'd turn it up..." The evidence is incontrovertable. I'm old.

BUMMER--BYE WEEK

I can't seem to get enough...

This One's for Christine...

A few weeks ago I had lunch with a friend from Moscow. She arrived looking great, as usual, but she had on one of those shirts--you know, the "high-waisted" ones that are gathered immediately under the chest--and I had one of my foot-in-mouth moments when I asked her if she was expecting. NEXT TIME I will not put that kind of karma out in the universe, because although she graciously forgave me my blunder, today, when I wore the shirt below, no fewer than THREE different people delightedly commented that they didn't know I WAS EXPECTING A HAPPY EVENT!! Well, my happy event will be the burning of this shirt when I get it off my back tonight. Here's to you, Christine.

PS CAN YOU TELL ITS BEEN A LONG DAY??

Laughing so hard I can barely type...

Cougar Mania!!

I thought I was a pretty avid Cougar fan, having participated personally in the yearly frenzy as a member of the POWER OF THE WASATCH, the COUGAR MARCHING BAND. (Some day I'll post a pic. of me in my marching uniform.) BUT....I was wrong. It turns out that I am only a tepid, pathetic sort of fan, in comparison with the FREAKS that come out in Provo, UT on the big game day. FACE and TORSO PAINTING replace unremarkable and modest dress modes, normally humble, pleasant people wave fists screaming "GO COUGS!" long before the first minute of play, and vehicles wave blue and white cougar flags and sport all manner of ridiculous decorations. LOOK WHAT I FOUND at the neighorhood market!!!!
LOOK CLOSELY, because the noodles are actually tiny COUGAR HEADS, yes, now you can
EAT Cosmo the COUGAR at your game day lunch!! This weekend, my brother and his boys, (who, incidentally, cut their milk teeth on stories of the "EVIL RED TEAM" up the street--BYUs rivalry with red-sporting U. of UT is LEGENDARY) came down to cheer our team. He only had one ticket, and hit the streets trying to pick up a few more. Check out his sign:

You non-mormons aren't going to get that sign, and I really can't explain it--suffice to say it smacks of its own brand of FAN-atical freak-ness. OK, its more of a joke, and yes, you can see my artistic touches in the cougar prints, but seriously, people didn't bat an eye. AND HE DIDN'T GET ANY TICKETS. Don't worry, tho', he sent his oldest boy with Uncle Mike, GRAMPA DON and cousin NICK (check out the family blog), so everything worked out OK. And happily for his "testimony," there was slaughter enough to satisfy even via television (he could hear the roaring crowd from our yard) so he's still going to go to church. SO FOR NOW, aside from being just the tiniest bit backward (I was shooting from the wrong side of the party),everything is OKELY-DOKELY here in Happy Valley (see below).

Where have you seen the sky looking like this?

For those of you who will never see my desktop, I'm sharing my current photograpic pic.

Two Worlds Collide

This weekend I attended the wedding reception of a cousin. It was beautiful, the bride was gorgeous, the groom handsome, cake amazing... I couldn't help but notice the cultural differences in the the two families, now joined by marriage.

Vegas Road Trip

Need a Lawyer?

Октябренок

The appearance of this little pin pricked my memories of Russia--not the glitzy, euro-trash Moscow we left behind in January, but the post-communist Russia of my first stay there, in `93.

I bought it, a momento of the communist "Pioneer" youth program, from a stout grandma selling salted cabbage at the neighborhood market. The photo is Lenin as a baby, the "Oktabreyonok"--a cross between the word for October and baby--and I hardly need point out the significance of the red star, right? The original that I brought home that first round was lost or destroyed, and it took us the whole 2 years we were there the second round to find its replacement. Pretty sure we paid more the second time, from the pin-peddling sharks at Izmailovo Vernisazh.

Edward Cullen

Ok, I'm posting this again, at the risk of being thought a stalker, because I have read some chatter from people who did not think Rob Pattinson is attractive. To them I say: ARE YOU CRAZY??

California Dreamin'

Loping along the strand this morning ("jogging" might be optimistic given what the oxygen-rich ocean air does to my lungs after my high-altitude acclimation to mountain living), the opening strains of California Dreamin' send me back to my many workouts in the Moscow gym. I can suddenly smell the vinegar water used to disinfect the equipment, hear the discofied thrum of Russky rock in the background, see the half-light of a northern afternoon waning through the full-length windows lined up before the bank of kilometer-measuring treadmills.

I remember countless runs on those treadmills, looking through those windows. Some days I would see Sergei the driver enter the compound to pick me up for work (I would be late!), kids walking from the British School to the Sports Center for their Phys Ed classes, Scandinavian moms with their gear-swaddled 3-year-olds riding independently on their bicycles--mostly, however, the Turkmenian workers, slogging through the repetition of their mundane gardening tasks, snow removal, or street and gutter sweeping. Desperate for whatever pitiful wage might accompany the derision of their Russian foremen and co-laborers, they never looked up. They were remarkable for their complete lack of eye contact, interaction, or anything that might mark them as individuals. The residents jokingly called them the "green men" because their uniforms were green, but the anonymity of that label would suit them fine, if they ever knew about it.

Today's playing of California Dreamin' (now that I actually AM in California) seemed to slap me with the comparison--what I saw then, and what I see today. Paunchy, carefully-tanned, middle-aged men balancing laptops on their laps while sipping coffee, --50-somethings walking up and down the beach searching for useless "shells," and the remains of hard weekend partying strewn across the strand are today's landscape. The memories of Moscow's jogging views, idyllic only because they are past, make me ashamed of the abundance California Dreamin'.

New playlist tomorrow.

Bling Cup

What's all the fuss about this silly little cup? (Looks great at my house...)

GnomeNappers Terrorize Hometown

Poor, Poor Blossom

The first message:

"Right now he is being cared for, but if we don't get the cup and the bush then things could be bad for Blossom" 

Some cup (???) and "a shrubbery" were their demands.

The Second message

"Make a good choice--for the gnome's sake!!"

Many of you saw my previous post about my darling gnomes.  You will notice that they were all smiling and happy.  Unfortunately, one of my gnomes has fallen prey to a HEINOUS CRIME.  He was abducted from his home among the moss (yes, fine, there was a weed or two nearby) in our yard--TAKEN FROM ALL HE KNOWS AND THOSE WHO LOVE HIM to a place that can only be described as hell on earth (with a different kind of weed, clearly).  We first received a ransom note.  Not believing that anyone could be so cruel, we asked for confirmation that it was actually OUR gnome.  The pictures above confirm our worst fears.  Our gnome is in the hands of n'er-do-wells.    The messages we received are shown under the photos.  I will soon expose the identities of the gnomenappers, so be sure to check back in a day or two.

Pump Class

Clearly it has been too long since whatever horrible gym catastrophe inspired my abandoment of early-morning workouts (before 10am), because I got up this morning and headed out to my gym partner's house at 5: 48am. Since it was too early to ring the doorbell or call (bet she'd like me waking up her 8 sleeping kids...), I waited on her front steps for 4 minutes until her garage door yawned open. In that 4 minutes, no less than 17 people passed by her house! One group of 5 older-than-5o women, another group of young mom-type joggers, various couples and dogs and one teenager on the walk of shame back to his house.

Anyway, it was a great class, I liked it despite the 100+ pushups, but about mid-way through my sweat went cold and big black spots started to appear all over the room, bobbing around as I started the bicep curls. Hmm. Not sure whether it was lack of sleep or lack of food or what, but it took 5 minutes of holding my head between my knees while sitting on the toilet in the ladies room to even consider continued pumping. I returned and finished out the class, it is only 11:30am and I'm already sore. My supercilious prejudice about small weights and multiple repetitions has suffered another blow. I am definitely planning on pumping again next week.

Gnaughty Gnomes

We had some problems with our garden gnomes today, they just can't seem to stay put. Dylan found them in the waterfall, having a gnice afternoon soak.

Turns out they just got really hot and thirsty. At least they drove away the magpies, who drove away the nice robin family that previously played in the waterfall right where Gnaughty Gnome is reclining.

This little guy swings from my mimosa (see right sidebar) and protects the wasp trap from 2 legged-predators (neighbor kids). I've always really liked him, not sure why.

AH, now its clear, he's Russian (guess how I know?)! PS, these little guys are called Gnomiks in the motherland.

My favorite garden gnome..

...lives in the strawberry planter with some dried out strawberries and some weeds. But I still love him...

How much is too much....

Before I start looking bizarre? I just can't seem to help it....

Twilight is coming!!

Its so nice to have something to look forward to...I'm not the only one, right?

Take one!

Okay, first attempt at customizing a blog, this is one i won't stress too much about messing up just in case my html attempts are fruitless.