Tales of a Super Nova

Bradbury Air.

2011-08-11T22:39:00.000-06:00

When a Ray Bradburyesque wind blows, it usually means one thing to most people. To me, it means something entirely different. I should tell you what it means to me, I suppose. That's probably why you're reading. Some part of me would like to make you guess. Does it mean strange things are afoot, or love is in the air, or someone's heart feels like a wet sneaker that has been put in the dryer? Maybe all three. Maybe none. Maybe I can't tell anymore.

Yesterday, walking down a familiar sidewalk, I felt the first signs of a Fall that I've hoped for. The summer has been anything but a vacation for me, though that's what most are callin' it...from their points of view. For me, it's been an introspective time during which I'm supposed to be the most extroverted self of my year. I wish I would have taken notes while I was livin' it. But that's just it. Livin' doesn't leave a lot of room for note taking, even if you know shorthand.

Decisions seem to be something that are inescapable, but what if you don't trust part of your brain like you once did? Worrying that choices placed before me somehow held a promise of something that seemed like gold, but might be more like fairy dust. Though, neither seem to be bad when you look right at them both. And that's the truth of it.

God Hates Protesters

2011-07-20T00:00:00.000-06:00

If you have a few minutes, you might enjoy this site as much as I did.

Here Comes Your Man

2011-07-19T00:44:00.000-06:00

While I love seeing Joseph Gordon Levitt pretend he doesn't really know how to sing in this clip, I'd like to focus more on the message of the song by the Pixies (a band I love, though I've never attempted the haircut).

Exterior Shot--Chain Restaurant (because two people who never frequent chains find themselves in a suburb). Two tall, distinguished, passionate artists walk into the joint to get lunch.

Pan to: Close up of seating hostess. She watches couple approach, she sizes up the two of them, she's immediately attracted to the male.

Hostess: Welcome to this awesome Chain Restaurant. We are so glad to have you here. Please follow me."

Batting eyelashes, quick look up and down his body, and back to his eyes again.

"Wow, sir, you're really, really tall. That must be so nice for you to be so tall. How tall are you, Sir."

Man: 6' 4"

Hostess: My, my, my. So tall.

Woman: Yes, isn't he? I'm tall too. We really love being tall.

Hostess: not wanting to acknowledge woman exists, but glancing over and saying with disinterest, "Oh? how tall are you?"

Woman: 6 foot. It's such a great height. I'm really fond of it.

Hostess: Well, must be so nice for you to have found a tall, strong man. Hold on to your man, you're pretty lucky to be with him.

Man and Woman debate inwardly whether or not to point out everything wrong with what this woman just said, but decide to not launch a verbal tired on the naive, young seating hostess at a chain restaurant in California who believes that a woman must "hold on to a man" and is worth more if she has one. Instead, they just smile and nod.

Man: Ouch. Did you see what she just did to you?

Woman: Yep. Apparently, I'm the lucky one. I'm the one who needed a man. I'm the one who better not let you go, or it will be my loss. That's a Lifetime movie waiting to be made yet again.

Note to reader. This man is NOT my man. He never has been and never will be. He is, however, a dear friend, and one who thinks similarly to myself.

Man: Yes, see, how come I couldn't have been the lucky one? How come I couldn't have been told not to let you go? Or how nice it must be to be with someone who is as tall as you are?

Note to reader: We love this man. He is one of our dearest friends. His ability to even talk about this with me is one of the reasons why.

End Scene (for now, but this happens on more than one occasion. It also happens that every woman that has ever seated this man and myself at a restaurant has practically slipped him her phone number. It doesn't matter if we're holding hands or making out between our sushi, they still do it. Dear Women--wtf?)

It's an interesting thing to notice, in my life, that I am never quite seen as fully complete, adult, fulfilled, and utterly blissed out on joy if I do not have a man in my life. This is a reality that many of the women around me adopt. This is a reality that I refuse to adopt. This is a reality that I want to eradicate from the deepest marrow of my bones. This happens and I wish it didn't. It really, really gets old. /Rant.

My Writing Brain

2011-07-16T02:34:00.000-06:00

I used to be a writer. It's gone away. Only elementary words come into my mind. Thoughts composed solely of facebook status updates that people push a little button to "like".

Here are the last ten thoughts I had that I posted to facebook:

1. The screen of my mac gets dirty so fast....#firstworldproblems
2. I kind of like ninjas now.
3. Walking into Hollister makes me feel like an old, pale giant.
4. Spending all day with a 4 year old is like a roller coaster ride for my ovaries.
5. I literally have an ache in my heart when I think about the fact that I cannot time travel...#nerdysadness
6. I'm in California and freezing. What's up with that! P.S. my cousin is with me.
7. Decide what to be and go be it.
8. Avett Brothers in a few short hours. Hello Sunday Evening.
9. Bad Teacher
10. If only my life were more like theater camp.

That's all I got. And some of these aren't even original thoughts. They are thoughts that others have thought that I thought after them.

I don't know what this means for my soul, but the outlook isn't good. My soul is screaming for a metaphor salad right about now.

Thanks Mom!!

2011-07-15T02:16:00.000-06:00

Going to San Francisco a few weeks ago was a good thing. I went for a conference on eating disorders as mine has been rearing it's ugly head again the last year. After the conference, I went with two lovely young women I met to the Mission District where we were all going to attempt to eat dinner together without being weird about our eating issues. It's always a good time to laugh at yourself in the process.

We decided to try an amazing Vegan (a lot of people with food issues of undereating/denial/binge/purge tend to go Vegan because it takes away a lot of triggers and we like the added emphasis on health) Mexican place called Gracias Madre (which, of course, is an homage to Mother Earth, but we liked to just call it "Thanks Mom!")

(photo taken from neoncolorwaves)

May I suggest starting out with the VERY fresh, delightful, amazing guacamole?! Served with warm corn tortillas that were blessed by the Gods?

Sip the most incredible Horchata of your life while you're doing it.

Finish off with the Enchiladas con Mole (spicy mole enchiladas topped with mushrooms and cashew cheese, served with sauteed greens and beans).

This is how good real food can be. It was one of the most amazing meals of my life, but also because I let myself mentally enjoy it too, with really good company.

Thoughts Upon the Hunt: Part I

2011-07-14T01:47:00.000-06:00

A Side Note of Inspiration: I've been trying to think like a man lately. Yep.

Some History: When you grow up as a smart little girl into an intelligent and semi-sophisticated (my hair isn't always in order) older woman, there is something about the male species that you might never want to admit you know. You might try really hard to believe that some men are capable of not being typical. That some men, due to breeding and education and a really great mother figure in their lives, somehow lack (or evolved) away from the gene where they size up your looks the minute they see you.

A Fact: Men are hunters.

A Second Fact: Men are very very very very very visual.

Some Explanation: When a man is a hunter, I see it in two ways.

Way 1) Mostly they are going to hunt with their eyes before they ever decide to hunt with their brains. This has been a hard concept for me to grasp in my life, but I think I'm finally at a place of embracing it. I'm finally at a place where if I'm the object of desire, then it might not be such a bad thing. Did you hear me feminist world? Ahem, being an object of desire might not be such a bad thing (thanks to Patty B over at MMP for helping me voice this).

Way 2) Hunting is all about winning or losing. And men like to win. And they want to win even if they don't want you. More on this in Part 2.

The Realities of Conclusion: These thoughts on the hunt stemmed from a conversation I had with a smart, caring, intelligent, funny man who has been my dear friend for a long time. We've been friends with benefits some times and other times we've just been friends. He knows me well. He knows I have a brain and a graduate degree from a top university. He knows I care about feeding poor children and helping the homeless. He listens to me when I rant about being misunderstood by some one. He laughs with me during a good movie. He's been there for me emotionally and physically when I've wanted the one or the other. Knowing that he sees me as a valuable human being makes it ok for him to finally admit that sometimes he sees me purely as an object of desire. And he added to this that it might be safe to tell me that he just plain likes it when I dress like a slut. And, that most men like it when women dress like sluts.

I have never dressed like a slut before. Well, not often. I've alway been pretty modest because even a V neck shirt can make my lush, brainy breasts look provocative.

Moving On: This was hard for me to hear because I fear that dressing like a slut will give people the wrong opinion of me, but I also relish the idea of dressing like a slut and taking my sexual power to a very new and higher level. To be able to be the object of desire, know it, own it, even if it's only for the man that sits and watches the news with me.

What are your thoughts on dressing like a slut? Or looking at girls who are dressed like sluts. Or am I saying the word "slut" so many times that you are now uncomfortable (like I sort of am.)

If I'm Wrong, Please Don't Tell Me

2011-06-25T06:03:00.000-06:00

Recently, I entered into conversation with a religious zealot (at least he seemed to be to me, he was probably just an average religious person). I did not mean to. These days, I'd much rather talk about the weather. But we were traveling together, and I didn't know how to stop the onslaught of questions that came from being seatbelted next to someone for the next three hours.

I am usually good with religious zealots. I'd like to think I could take Michele Bachmann on like any quick-witted high school student and have her eating out of my agnostic hand with gratitude. I'd like to think that I could invite over the fundamentalists who predict various days and months for the long-awaited Rapture and woo them with my logic and creme brulée until they start donating to Planned Parenthood, just like me.

But, after the three hours with this religious zealot, I felt as if I might reclaim Mormonism just so my head could stop exploding. He wanted to know why I left. My reasons of patriarchy, racism, lack of human rights/equality, historical cover-ups and fuck-ups, feeling like shit in the Temple, not really believing in polygamy, Prop 8, not really believing in much of an afterlife (which caused him to shake his head at me in hopelessness and sadness at my current state of beliefs), and a slew of other problems didn't seem to be enough.

This wasn't his first time maneuvering around this kind of discourse. He craftily counteracted most of what I had to say--hitting on sore spots and soft spots alike. So much so that any faltering ex-Mormon might feel motivation to immediately find their nearest Bishop--repent, and get on with procreating. I kept trying to explain my point of view. I kept trying to explain the way I felt. I kept trying to tell him I was happy with my decision. None of these worked or satisfied him--but only angered him.

It was a surprise attack from a source I hadn't anticipated. And, it was a battle I thought I could win. I keep learning the lesson that some people just aren't worth the energy, but I think I'm finally getting it.

From now on, I'm going to adopt the mantra of my dear friend Nubian, who, before sharing her opinion with me casually says, "If I'm wrong, please don't tell me."

Be Bold

2011-06-22T23:11:00.000-06:00

Recently, a lovely friend of mine wrote a post that I applaud. It echoes a declaration that I made myself about four years ago. I forgot how harrowing it was for me to make this declaration in the forum that I did. I forgot how harsh the responses could be from fellow Christians. I simply forgot.

This post made me remember how real the battle for equality still is in many parts of this state of mine. If you want to chime in and offer your support (and read the comments out of wide-eyed curiosity's sake). then please do so.

Coming Out

Breakfast in Bed

2011-06-22T18:03:00.000-06:00

Traveling wears on you, especially after the age of 25. Jet setting all of last year to Switzerland, Portugal, China, Norway, New York and Salt Lake City--I did decide that it might be nice to take a year off. Go no where. Do nothing. Apparently, I am bad at doing nothing.

The last few weeks I have been to San Francisco, New York City, Boston/Cambridge, Portland, Newport (OR), and now Corvallis.

I haven't rested much.

So, imagine my utter delight when my hostess brought me breakfast in bed this morning--granola, creamy yogurt, and fresh berries. No one has done that for me, perhaps, ever. It was, in my opinion, what heaven just might be like.

No More Pencils. No More Books

2011-05-23T09:13:00.000-06:00

Today is the first day of the last week of school. I can BARELY CONTAIN MYSELF. As many of you know, I'm in a little charter school in the middle of nowhere. We get out earlier than most schools because they didn't have enough money to pay all the teachers for that extra week. Good Times.

A few days ago a friend came over for a visit. And when he saw me bubbly and happy and singing and being the me I usually think of as me he asked me if I had been drinking. It's a sad, sad realization to know that for people to see you peppy you had to have taken to thee ole bottle (not that I get super peppy when I drink. I mostly just get tired and silly.)

Alas! No! I did NOT need alcohol to feel this way! I felt this way naturally! I felt this way because I could taste the freedom of summer and the knowledge that I had been offered another job (a good job!) so that I would never have to return to that part of the world AGAIN. And I realized how hard this year has been on me. I reread my blog posts about heartbreak and life's hardknocks and it makes me want to throw something (sorry about that). I remember when I used to be funny. I used to be able to spin a good yarn. I used to not quote Jean Paul Sartre in response to people talking about Heaven. I used to wear yellow! I used to do my hair!

So, I've decided, with this summer vacation it might be time to take that portrait of Emily Dickinson off my refrigerator and replace it with Doris Day! Because that's what I feel like. About time.

Rewiring the Brain.

2011-05-21T09:03:00.001-06:00

Sometimes I try to pretend that I was never religious. I'm tired of religion. I'm tired when I think of all the decisions that I made about my education and my life because I was worried they would take me away from my true calling as a wife and mother. I'm tired of trying to talk in circles about how to change said religions so they make more sense and are more egalitarian.

I just get tired. Or maybe, I'm just still so hurt. I think I avoid religion lately because it's still so emotionally taxing on me. Having made a break from the Mormon faith just over two years ago hasn't dissipated all the hard wiring my brain has had to try and undo after 30 years of thinking one way. And it's hard fighting with yourself all the time. It's hard second guessing your well thought out decisions. It's hard having friends and family look at you like you are a problem to be fixed. It gets hard. And tiring.

I recently read this article that really moved me. I understood her story. I lived her story. I think you could read it too and see what a lot of women in the LDS church deal with--though it may seem silly that it's engrained in us so fully, but it really is.

She tells her story, and then she optimistically paints a solution to how you can balance your faith, family, and career if certain changes were made. I like the story she paints. She paints it in shades of warm yellow and orange that make me start to feel something. But, my blueness regarding the situation comes back after only a few moments. Sometimes the problem seems so big. And, why should I even try and change what I perceive as a problem, when so many women are ok with it? That's the big question. Do I just get out and then leave the church and it's consenting women to their own demise? Many would say yes. Many would get upset with me even calling it a "demise". But all I know is that if I didn't have a friend who was brave enough to voice her concerns and leave the church and then tell me about it, knowing, or at least hoping, that I would love her anyway--if I didn't have her to see that it WAS possible to be actually happy and religion free--then I'd still be in that same church. I would be meeting my own demise. My soul and spirit and whatever you want to call it were dying in that church and I didn't even realize it.

You can read the full story about this woman here.

Also, you can read this little excerpt below.

Women’s invisibility is at the root of all their problems, and this invisibility comes from women’s profound lack of representation in the major decision making councils of the world and their lack of influence and power. To have their voices heard and better the lives of all women, men, and children, they must find their way into governments, academia, international affairs, and business administration. In that way, those making the decisions will have women’s needs and interests (and by extension, those of the family) in mind. However, this presents a major dilemma for those who are Latter-day Saints and who believe that motherhood and family cohesion are preeminent.

It is broadly accepted that Mormons traditionally believe in stay-at-home moms. For many years the counsel to the members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints from the church leaders has been for mom to stay in the home while the children are still being raised. They were strongly counseled against taking any kind of career when it wasn’t necessary. Many Latter-day Saint boys are raised to look for a girl to marry who is committed to staying home with her kids, and girls are raised with marriage and homemaking as their ultimate ambition. How is a Latter-day Saint to reconcile the need for women to take positions of political influence, when those positions require work outside of the home and a lifelong investment in a career in order to reach any type of authoritative level of influence? Considering that a woman cannot be simultaneously in her home with her children and in the workplace making a change in the world, and boards of directors and politicians cannot and will not hire someone without experience, major societal changes are in order to reconcile this dilemma. These changes must take place in the workplace, in societal values, and in societal expectations, particularly for men.

I feel like it's Indecision 2011 for me. I'm almost 34. I feel like I need to decide if I want to go out and grab that husband and have that baby, or if I want to do what I feel so passionate about in my heart. Is there really a way to do both? I don't really believe that there is. I think having children changes the playing ground so completely that your life is never the same. That you focus so fully on them you let other things fall by the wayside. That's a good thing. I want mothers in this world that would be involved in mothering. And I know myself well enough to know that if I had a child, I would give so much of myself, my time, my talents (and that I would WANT to give those things to that little baby) that all of my other dreams would still sort of be realized, just not as fully. Or my dreams would change. Which isn't a bad thing at all. But it seems bad now. It seems lesser. It seems like I won't reach my full potential. It seems like I'm talking in circles, doesn't it? Meh.

Stellar Love Stories

2011-05-20T10:44:00.002-06:00

If you follow my private blog about my love life (fascinating stuff that)--I am here to inform you that it has finally been updated. And it will be receiving many more updates over my summer vacation.

So, please go read it now because I need advice.

Rapturing

2011-05-20T09:09:00.001-06:00

I finished reading Earth by Jon Stewart yesterday. It wasn't what I expected. It was written for Aliens. It was written as if all of Earth was dead and Aliens had come down and were vacationing in the carnage. Well, maybe "vacation" is the wrong word. Maybe it isn't. I don't know what Aliens like to do on vacation.

So. I read that. Then, I watched the news and saw people who think the rapture is happening tomorrow. As someone who lived in the South and has a magnet on my fridge about the rapture, I feel like an expert about it. However, I never did watch those movies with Kirk Cameron because I wanted my childhood lust and love for Kirk to remain constant, and I worried those films would diminish the lust and love. So, maybe I'm just an amateur expert.

Last night there was a huge lightning storm in my back yard. And thunder. Lots of both. If I were in Ancient Greece I'd be rolling my eyes that the God of Lightning and the God of Thunder had to have it out at 4am when I was trying to get some precious sleep. Those Gods! So mercurial in their emotions! But, I'm not in Ancient Greece. So, I thought of the next logical explanation. THE RAPTURE (say that in a booming, scary voice, like I do in my head when I use all capital letters). Yes, THE RAPTURE was here. Fox news was finally right!

I lay in bed and listened to the noises and telltale signs that people were going to be lifted out of their homes and taken up to the skies. I pretty much knew I wasn't going to be in that group, I had just had a glass of wine before bed, you see. And it made me hopeful that I wouldn't have to fight morning traffic. Then I laughed at the ironic thought that maybe ALL of Utah would be Left Behind and then, boy, wouldn't their faces be red! Those are basically the thoughts I had while the rapture was supposedly going on.

The other thought I had was that I was glad I just bought food storage because that storm sounded like it was never going to stop and that it was going to take everything except my basement with it. The third thought I had was, "Oh God! What if something really does happen and I'm stuck in my house alone for DAYS and DAYS?!?!?!?!" Then I started talking to myself and calming myself down and telling myself how much I liked myself and how funny I was and how good it was that I had a lot of books I wanted to read because a huge catastrophic event where I am stuck in my home living off of packaged food items I got at Emergency Essentials (who promised me the pasta and meatballs in that package would taste like the real thing) is the perfect time to catch up on all my reading.

Spoon

2011-05-19T08:56:00.002-06:00

Remember the first time you ended up spooning all night with someone you were nervous to care for, nervous to feel for, but the nerves didn't stop you from fountains of care and feelings. You got a little out of sorts to have them next to you. They wanted to stay the night. They brushed their teeth in front of you and winked at you when they caught you staring. You wondered what sounds you would make in your sleep and hoped they wouldn't be too unfeminine. And yet, they snored the whole night long and you forgave them without a moment's notice. Remember when you needed to turn over and you thought that maybe he would stop holding you, but instead, he turned too, and your bodies fit together. Think about that. A body that fit with yours. Remember that. These are not questions. I want you to remember. Now. Remember when you kissed his shoulder because it was the closest thing to your lips, and he rubbed that back part of your neck, just where your scalp and neck connect and it made you think of sunshine and warmth and this one song by Stevie Wonder, of all people. You felt all of that, All from one little spot by his one hand? Remember. Good.

Sometimes I try to Believe.

2011-05-18T10:55:00.000-06:00

Sometimes I try and believe in the goodness of men. Sometimes I try to believe that they aren't all the way societal cliches claim them to be.

Sometimes I try to believe that they will listen to me. That they will be interested in what I'm saying and not how pretty it is when my mouth moves.

Sometimes I try to believe that it doesn't matter if I have make-up on that day or not because I never care if they have make-up on either.

Sometimes I try to believe they will see past my blond hair and full mouth and cleavage and see me as a whole person.

Sometimes I want to believe that it is my wit that charms them, and nothing else.

Sometimes I like to believe that they really do want to be making eye contact and that it is not a chore to not look at my lovely breasts (I really do have brilliant breasts). Or watch my ass sway as I walk somewhere.

Sometimes I try to believe that they won't their manhood insulted if I know more about politics then they do. That they won't want me to walk around in 5 inch stiletto heels so that I can turn them on. That they won't feel the need to avoid real conversations. That they actually do want to communicate and commit.

Sometimes I like to believe that the fact that I have an ivy league education, that I own my own house, that I own my own car, that I am completely independent and confident doesn't make them feel like they don't know what they could offer me. Sometimes I like to believe that men know they are actually much more than just providers and protectors. That they can be needed in a woman's life for more reasons than just those. So many more reasons.

These attempts at belief go out the window when I change my facebook page photo to one of my recent photo shoots. Photos I have TAKEN, not photos that I am IN. The photos I take are of very stunning people most of the time, and when I put a new one up, I usually get about 10 to 15 requests from strange men I have never met who send me a one liner like "Hey, you're hot (though, let's be honest, in this day and age it's usually, "Hey, your hot.")

That's really when my beliefs about what I imagine the amazing possibilities that reside within a man sort of wane.

Don't Be Frightened.

2011-05-08T16:36:00.002-06:00

Life Doesn’t Frighten Me

Shadows on the wall
Noises down the hall
Life doesn’t frighten me at all

Bad dogs barking loud
Big ghosts in a cloud
Life doesn’t frighten me at all

Mean old Mother Goose
Lions on the loose
They don’t frighten me at all

Dragons breathing flame
On my counterpane
That doesn’t frighten me at all.

I go boo
Make them shoo
I make fun
Way they run
I won’t cry
So they fly
I just smile
They go wild

Life doesn’t frighten me at all.

Tough guys fight
All alone at night
Life doesn’t frighten me at all.

Panthers in the park
Strangers in the dark
No, they don’t frighten me at all.

That new classroom where
Boys all pull my hair
(Kissy little girls
With their hair in curls)
They don’t frighten me at all.

Don’t show me frogs and snakes
And listen for my scream,
If I’m afraid at all
It’s only in my dreams.

I’ve got a magic charm
That I keep up my sleeve
I can walk the ocean floor
And never have to breathe.

Life doesn’t frighten me at all

Not at all
Not at all.

Life doesn’t frighten me at all.

Maya Angelou

House in Motion

2011-04-18T21:52:00.001-06:00

Dining room is now hosting dinner parties.

Found a lovely, old wine rack that would make my teetotaler mother cry.

My very first tool box. It belonged to a veteran who sold it to a lady who sold it to me.

That's right, the movie aficionado in me decided to give Coppola's wine a go.

Late to the Game

2011-03-14T00:05:00.005-06:00

I'm totally late to this game, but Friday night, stuck in the SLC airport for 6 hours, I got introduced to the lovely, bloody, crazy, addicting world of Dexter. And while I do have to look away when the blood is the main star, I definitely don't have to when Dexter is on screen. Ding dong!

Spring Fever

2011-02-15T09:52:00.002-07:00

I have it. Do you?
This photo was taken by the ever talented and ever amazing Chelsea! She's a friend of a friend and a fantastic photographer! Check out her blog!

Cake Wrecks

2011-02-13T09:34:00.000-07:00

Yes. This is a cake of a pregnant lady in a blue dress and her baby inside her uterus in amniotic fluid that you can cut right into. Give your very own CESAREAN section!

One of my best friends is expecting a baby this year. If I am in charge of the food for her shower.....I don't know if I'll be able to resist.

If I Were a Lesbian...

2011-02-11T09:13:00.003-07:00

I would have a major crush on Tina Fey. Actually, I already do.

Here's some information about her new book that I can't wait to read:

Once in a generation a woman comes along who changes everything. Tina Fey is not that woman, but she met that woman once and acted weird around her.

PRAISE FOR TINA FEY:

"You'd be really pretty if you lost weight." (College Boyfriend, 1990 )

"Tina Fey is an ugly, pear-shaped, overrated troll." (The Internet )

"Mommy, where are my pretzels?" (Tracy Morgan )

ADVANCE PRAISE FOR BOSSYPANTS:

"I hope that's not really the cover. That's really going to hurt sales." (Don Fey, Father of Tina Fey )

"Absolutely delicious!" (A Guy Who Eats Books )

"Totally worth it." (Trees )

"Do not print this glowing recommendation of Tina Fey's book until I've been dead a hundred years." (Mark Twain )

"Hilarious and insightful. Laugh-out-loud funny -- oh no, a full moon. No! Arrgh! Get away from me! Save yourself!" (A Guy Turning into a Werewolf )

Product Description

Before Liz Lemon, before "Weekend Update," before "Sarah Palin," Tina Fey was just a young girl with a dream: a recurring stress dream that she was being chased through a local airport by her middle-school gym teacher. She also had a dream that one day she would be a comedian on TV.

She has seen both these dreams come true.

At last, Tina Fey's story can be told. From her youthful days as a vicious nerd to her tour of duty on Saturday Night Live; from her passionately halfhearted pursuit of physical beauty to her life as a mother eating things off the floor; from her one-sided college romance to her nearly fatal honeymoon -- from the beginning of this paragraph to this final sentence.

Tina Fey reveals all, and proves what we've all suspected: you're no one until someone calls you bossy.

(Includes Special, Never-Before-Solicited Opinions on Breastfeeding, Princesses, Photoshop, the Electoral Process, and Italian Rum Cake!)

Struck

2011-02-03T11:50:00.001-07:00

Here is the trailer. The full 7 minute video can be found here. You'll be glad you watched it.

Many of you may not have seen this. I think you should. It's a short film that says a lot about what I feel like lately. I've been pondering a lot about the healing process. It seems, in life, that I have old wounds and those I date have old wounds and that these wounds make it too difficult for either of us to get close. Like trying to hug with arrows poking through our hearts.

I've been wondering about my own healing process and it's something I've always thought I would have to do on my own, but what if I let people in to help? I've been wondering about other's healing processes. What if I help them heal and then they leave for someone that's not me? That's happened to me before. It's happened to you. We wanted to be the end goal and we ended up being a milestone of healing towards the end goal.

I've decided to stop thinking so much about that and to just focus on healing. On really healing. On healing myself and on doing whatever I can to heal those people I am lucky enough to call friends and family. Because, in the end, I guess it shouldn't be about what they can give me, but about what I can give them. So, I'm ready to give. I've always been ready to give. The thing I'm working on now is also being ready to receive.

I'm struck.

How To Kiss Without Tongue

2011-02-02T16:08:00.002-07:00

How do you kiss without tongue? Apparently, I DO NOT know how. At all. I found this out last night when I kissed someone who was too demure (is that the word we want to use?) to USE his tongue. I think it's because I'm one of those people who goes after EVERYTHING she does with such passion and little restraint that when I did start kissing, I just went for it. Yee Haw.

Let me set the scene. There was a man that I was DESPERATELY in love with for most of 2002. I was young and Mormon and in love. I wanted to kiss him and date him and marry him. We did date. And we did hold hands. But, we did not kiss. This sounds weird, I know. This sounds weird, I guess, mostly to non-Mormons. The Mormons reading this post will understand that sometimes people make stupid pacts--like they aren't going to kiss until they are engaged. Or, they aren't going to kiss until they are almost engaged...and the kicker...they aren't going to kiss until the wedding day! (yes, this happens). You see, Mormons are so afraid of breaking any type of chastity law, that they try not to kiss often, they aren't supposed to French kiss or rub up and down against each other in horizontal or vertical positions.

Got it.

Moving on.

Over the years, said boy and I have stayed in touch. Last year we both admitted that we liked one another at the time and we should have kissed and that it was a shame that the golden opportunity passed us by. So, we decided, if we ever saw each other again (he lives far away from me) that we would make out like crazy. This night happened to suddenly arrive last night. We were both going to a lecture up at the local university. He was here for Sundance. He was with people. I was with people. We both had separate plans, but decided to steal away during intermission and make out. Problem was, there was just NO place to go. I scouted out handicap restrooms--none! Since last night was the coldest night Utah has had in my lifetime, we couldn't go outside. Finally, it was decided to meet in the elevator and ride it up and down while kissing.

Yes, I DO feel like I'm 15 while I'm writing this, thanks for asking.

So, we met in said elevator, said hi (we haven't seen each other in about 4 years) and went for it. Up and down (the elevator, sheesh!) and kissing and kissing--but NO TONGUE to be had. It's been about a month since I had a good make out, and I was ready. I LOVE kissing. LOVE IT. But, this was almost worse than no kiss at all, because this kiss had the chance to be great. Two people. Willing. Two pairs of lips. And one pair WOULDN'T open. Not a bit. At all. I kept gently nudging it--you know, with MY tongue--and nothing. I think it must be because he's still active Mormon? If there is one thing in life I'm pretty solid on, it would be my kissing abilities, but I can't work with lips that won't part! How is this possible? I left the elevator so frustrated that I just sort of beat my head against the door when I got home.

I feel, lately, that I'm the aggressor in most of my interactions with men. I blame this on my age, and my sexual peak. I should probably try and date a 21 year old for the amount of times that I think about sex during a given HOUR. It's THAT bad. The problem is that I now date older men who are focused on their careers, so even when we're dating I have to start taking clothes off in front of them to get them to stop talking about their goals and get down to the real business. TMI? Good. It's my blog. Please let me vent.

The BEST part of the evening came when I was liplocked with the boy in the elevator, and the door opened and a little old Russian lady entered. I gathered she was Russian from her accent. I have a gift with identifying accents. She looked at us as we stood there silently smiling. She eyed us carefully, smiled and then got off at level two. We resumed making out...or, should I say that I resumed TRYING to get SOME satisfaction! Five minutes later, the elevator door opened and the same sweet lady (she must have been 5 foot tall, and the elevator was tiny, and I'm 6 foot tall and he is 6' 4" so--I'm sure we were looming and heaving all over her) entered again. Now, my sensitive skinned face was red, and my hair was askew and all the telltale signs of a tongue-less makeout were there.

She hid a laugh.

Conversation ensued.

Russian Lady (read in accent if you can please)"Ah, you two do the, the date, yes?"

Him "Yes...ma'am."

RL: "Good for you! Good for you! You go at it in the elevator, yes?"

Me: "Um, yes?"

RL: "Good for you! Good for you! Ah, you two remind me about youngness."

So, that was MY evening. All about youngness, and unfortunately--no tongueness.

The End.

F-Word

2011-01-31T22:00:00.001-07:00

I miss writing. Seems that part of me goes to the background when I focus so much on photography. I did a shoot the other day for this Mormon documentary on Feminism. I've been a pretty loud voice on that front, so no wonder that they asked me to be in the film. They came and did the interview stuff and then followed me around on a shoot. I did a photo just for them. I think it's one of the most beautiful things I've ever caught on film.

There are so many more breathtakingly poetic shots from this session, but I'm saving them all for an exhibit. Any of you coming to Utah to see it? I sure hope so.

And yes, I wrote that on her lovely breast myself....with black eyeliner from Sephora.

Amanda Blake Art

2011-01-30T09:22:00.000-07:00

It's no secret that I love art. It's probably no secret that I love Amanda Blake art. And now, it looks like she's painted a painting I could actually afford. Too bad I doubt I could really see it if I hung it on my wall. However, I was obsessed with this miniature store my mom used to take me to as a child. Looks like these little pieces would have fit right in.

Happy Weekend. I've got about 5 photo shoots and about 3 Sundance premiers to go to. I'll need another weekend after Sunday, for sure.

Humor Me.

2011-01-29T08:28:00.000-07:00

After the drama of the last novel I taught in English, I figured my juniors were ready for something fun and lighthearted, so I decided it was time for Huckleberry Finn. That's right! That's exactly what it is, too. It really is a fun satire that Twain wanted people to enjoy and think about without feeling preachy (I'm looking in your direction, Crash).

So, we started our class discussion today about what makes something funny and why Mark Twain is considered one of America's best humorists. That's right. I took them straight to the Awkward Family Photos website. Here were some of their favorites.

I'm sure the stuffed animals are just as much a part of the family as everyone else.

A family that shares the same hobby, always stays together.

Great minds.

Best Positioning EVER.

George Clooney started the trend.

Reindeer Games?

Republicans?

HEAT

2011-01-28T08:23:00.000-07:00

It got so cold here that I couldn't stand it anymore. I booked a flight to the O.C. to see my stellar cousins. We'll be beaching it up, hanging out in Hollywood cemeteries, and eating gluten free food together. I can't wait.

I'm also thinking there might be a reason for a black tie event on the beach. If so, I get to be the one with the untied bow tie.

We Don't Care About the Young Folk

2011-01-27T08:20:00.000-07:00

Actually, we DO!

Because they are hosting the Oscars.

Seriously? SO EXCITED to see what these two do! I'm glad they are giving some Newbies a whirl.

Some Sundance

2011-01-26T13:19:00.001-07:00

Last night I went to a Sundance party. I met a man with a mustache like the one featured on Daniel Day Lewis in Gangs of New York. Not kidding. He was nice, but after five minutes, I was bored.

Is it because I'm not good at conversation?

Is it because he was boring...even though his facial hair was exciting?

Is it because my heart just doesn't care about trying to connect and flirt with men anymore?

Is it because, while the party was amazing, and people were fashionable, and rumors of James Franco being there (because his directorial debut film was showing) circulated through the dark, saturated walls--that despite all that, I didn't really connect to anyone?

Is it because I've lost my ability to connect with anyone at all unless I'm behind the camera?

That's a real fear. And it's growing.

Here's another. I like to photograph people, but so do a lot of people. What will make mine special? What will make me satisfied? What is it all about? I guess if everyone stopped creating because the person before them created something similar, then American Literature would have stopped with The Scarlet Letter and we'd have no Huck Finn, no Poisonwood Bible, no House on Mango Street? But at the same time, shouldn't some people just stop the dream and do something else? I'm surrounded by talent on a daily basis with people I know, speak to, facebook, blog, and even the local cafes. I go to galleries and look at other people's creations. I like them, I always have. I used to enjoy them more. Somewhere, deep inside I have this drive that has exploded over the last three months and is telling me that this next year is my make it or break it time. This next year will determine if I have any talent at what I'm doing. This next year I'm giving my all to do something that many, many, many other people have already done before me.

So, my question is, will I be better off if I just sit at home and read a book?

We Love Jenny Auction: 36th Item: Makeup & Photo Session with Bee Photogr...

2011-01-25T19:18:00.002-07:00

Hey everyone. Check out this link to an auction for a good cause. You could get a session with ME.

We Love Jenny Auction: 36th Item: Makeup & Photo Session with Bee Photogr...: "Item: Makeup & Photo Session From: Bee Photography Description: Enjoy a portrait, bridal, or engagement session, captured by a profes..."

We Love Jenny Auction: 37th Item: Earrings from 28th Street Photo & Gift

2011-01-25T19:18:00.001-07:00

We Love Jenny Auction: 37th Item: Earrings from 28th Street Photo & Gift: "Item: One Pair of Earrings From: 28th Street Photo & Gift Description: Take your pick! One pair of earrings from 28th Street Photo &..."

We Real Cool

2011-01-04T12:00:00.001-07:00

We like Gwendolyn Brooks. In fact, so deep is our love, that my 11th graders all had to write their own version of "We Real Cool". Here is the original poem, along with four of my favorite adaptations.

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.

We Are Great

We are great. We

stay out late. We

Shoot drugs. We

Chill with thugs. We

Drink our drink. We

Puke in the sink. We

Smoke weed. We

Have what we need.

YOU REAL DUMB

You real dumb. You

Jump the gun. You

All hate. You

Infiltrate. You

All fall. You

Feel real small. You

Now loose. You

Can't choose.

We Talk Fast

We talk fast. We

Leave last. We

Stress out. We

Scream and shout. We

Obsess. We

Distress. We

Have cracks. We

Need to relax.

WE REAL COOL

We real cool. we

Like rule. We

Joke 'round. We

think sound. We

Know legit. We

Have fits. We

Think chill. We

Live thrill.

In Just Two Weeks

2011-01-03T20:20:00.001-07:00

I painted my room blue. And I went with those decals I was apondering about.

My white pillows got a spot on some old couches.

I bought a paint color called "Country Dairy" with no shame and put it on these here walls of my kitchen.

I took my little childhood chair out of storage.

Found a resting place for an old milk can.

Put my rusty bench on my very own front porch.

Loved this pillow so much I went back for it after a week of salivating.

Discovered these old vases I bought from a lady in Tuscany a few years ago. I liked her.

Had tea.

Bought fruit.

Lined up glasses.

In addition I have:

Painted three rooms and four ceilings
Refinished an antique dresser
Unpacked over forty boxes
Caulked a bathtub
Painted cupboards
Mudded and sanded walls
Replaced power outlets
Visited Home Depot about 23 times
Replaced blinds
Hung curtains
Hammered things
Got a power drill of my own
And so much more.

Phew.

Likes

2010-12-28T12:52:00.001-07:00

Today I decided to write a list of the colors I like so that I could make a wise decision for my office space. Instead, I ended up simply writing a list of things I like and don't like.

It went like this:

Likes:
Midsummer, stained glass windows by Chagall, Xanadu, stories of detection, bridges over water, eddys and tides, flickers of emotions, paragraphs, luminous conversations, poise, tolling of the bells (for whom--it matters not to me!), Sussex, unexpected depths of experience and romance, studying people without speaking, talking with hints of melody, birdbaths, orange skies, Mr. Darcy, Flight of the Conchords, left handed people, Ludwig Van, snow capped mountains, English cottages, Magnolia Bakery, French kissing, funiculars, old men in chapeaux, Stanley Kubrick, clotted cream, lavender, stacked fire wood, apple cider, abandoned buildings, Loch Ness, bike bells, green shutters, Isle of Skye, Parisian cobblestone, Swiss cow bells, Mongolian horses.

Dislikes:
Prime numbers, the parsimonious, liver, breezeless and sultry afternoons, the artificial, mulchy earth, queues, processed food, daisies, paisley, George Clooney, global warming, disrespecting the elderly, purse snatchers, Posh Beckham, pork, poverty, lots of bling, rabies, nylons, lack of individuality, ultra low-rise jeans, Wal-Mart, globalization, osteoporosis, fanny packs, feeling emotionally empty, ignorance, DO NOT ENTER signs.

Confirmation

2010-12-13T13:50:00.002-07:00

Here are two original poems written by one of my quiet and sweet 11th graders. I have long suspected that she knows, on a first-hand basis, just what this first poem is all about. I think the first poem is the reason she wrote the second. And so the cycle of poetry goes. We cannot help but show a bit of who we are. That's what I love about it.

I’m not afraid of you.

Push me up against the wall.

Punch and curse, as usual.

Swallow me up in your pride,

Never wrong, just always right.

Does it make you feel strong,

when I’m looking up at you,

on the ground, cowering in fear

How do you feel?

Up against the wall.

Punch. Slam.

Up against the wall.

Punch. Slam.

Push me down.

I’m on the ground,

being slapped around.

Why me?

They say you hurt

the one you love,

That’s your philosophy,

Do you feel better?

You’re no man,

for pushing me around.

Punch. Slap.

Punch Slap.

I’m not afraid of you.

SOMETIMES

Sometimes I wish I could be alone,

with only Thoughts and I.

We wouldn’t think of anything,

we wouldn’t even try.

Sometimes I wish the world would say goodbye,

and leave us be.

If only we could run free,

away from their judging eyes.

Sometimes I wish I was no one,

my Thoughts feel the same,

If I am me I have won,

To not be me would be a shame.

Sometimes I wish I was asleep,

When everyone tells me who to be.

If I’m dreaming do not wake,

my Thoughts and I don’t want to see.

Sometimes I wish I was alone,

with only Thoughts and I.

If I am dreaming do not wake,

my Thoughts and I don’t want to see.

Vogue.

2010-12-12T22:52:00.000-07:00

I took way too many amazing photos today. Seriously. I'm too lucky.

This May Not Come Across Very Well at All

2010-12-10T13:45:00.002-07:00

"I am friend of my girl friend, kind understanding, support, respect her and help her achieving her dreams, fun , love sports, i am a serious guy now!!!...i ve passed that adolcence fase.
i want to find a woman that we can be friends...that we can match eachother...i am trying...i will not give up untill i find her , i know she is somewre out there , so i will keep on looking for her ...my soulmate...i believe in that....that give sense to life ...love ...happy love...perfet love...to fall in love ...is the most wonderfull thing!!!"

I already know this post is destined to have the appearance of poking fun at people. It's trying desperately not to. It's really only poking fun at me, Stella. It's only poking fun at the myriad of situations I have found myself trying to meet people across this amazing planet of ours.

When I was living in Europe last year, it was not my first time. However, it was the first time that Europe seemed to have become just as effected by online dating as America now is. When I lived there before, I was always meeting people in organic ways. They usually involved going to church, meeting people at church, becoming friends with people at church, and then becoming friends with all of THEIR friends (who were mostly non-religious in Europe). That's how I always did it, and I've awesomely acquired a very successful social life while living abroad.

This past year, was not the case. First, I don't go to church anymore. Second, I was in Switzerland when it was too cold to do much, but I promised myself that I would go out and meet people when I moved to Portugal. I tried. When I could. I worked long hours and I could never quite plan things as my boss was flippant and hard to pin down and could ask me to work all night on a whim--not really caring if I had made any plans. After a few nights going out alone, I realized I was a target for drunk men looking for a hookup. I felt like one too. I didn't know how to meet people this way! Late, one evening, I looked on the Portuguese match.com website (three day free trial y'all!) and there were several hundred people signed up. Two actually had profiles in English.

Yes. I copied them down and just randomly found them in my email inbox when I was cleaning it out today. Yes, I am going to post them here. Yes, if you know me, these are even more awesomer. Yes, they might poke fun a little, but I am sure if I tried to write one in Portuguese it would come across a similar fashion and I would have a sense of humor about it and allow a very American guy to post it on his blog for all to read and smile about. Yes, everything about this post is ok. One is posted at the beginning of this post. And here is the other one.

PURE WRITING GOLD.

And no, I was not seduced into signing up and emailing them, though I should have because I like people who want to help me achieve my dreams, who think I can give them a sense to life and most of all, I enjoy the nature.

"Hi. I´m a normal person who is taking the best side of internet. I am intelligent, sincere and concentrate person. Like to travel, be with friends, watch the moon, walk on rain love love the green of the nature. I enjoy read a good book, go to cinema. I am a little bit shy at start. I enjoy cooking sometimes, specially cakes. A good person. Fun person, that enjoys the nature. Someone that show the feelings, very honest and true. I´m looking for someone that enjoys life, don´t harms their own health. That likes and protect the nature (as much as possible). Someone i can trust."

p.s.--this man can walk on rain!!!!!!

Christmas Wish #1: Don't Defer Your Dreams.

2010-12-10T09:58:00.000-07:00

My gift to you this Christmas season is one I do every year. I'm going to share with you poems created by kids who have never really written poems before. They come from a pretty small town. They seem, most of the time, pretty apathetic about life in general. This is why I love the poetry unit more than any other. It gives them a place to voice things they won't usually voice...in a safe way--because it's poetry. It has a right to be emotional and loud when they are usually stalwart and quiet.

I usually have my poetry assignments mirror great poets that I teach them about. Then, they learn to write their own. For "A Dream Deferred" by Langston Hughes, they had to keep the first line and last line the same as his poem. Then they had to detail what they will feel if their dreams do not come true.

Original Poem

What happens to a dream deferred?Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.Or does it explode?

Student Poem #1

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it disappear,

like a love one long past?

Or make you impatient,

like a fishing pole cast?

Does it hurt and make you want to shout?

Or burn inside you, like a fire you can’t put out?

Maybe it smells good

like a lawn, freshly mowed...

Or does it explode?

Westboro Baptist Church

2010-12-09T09:37:00.000-07:00

Few things in life make me get REALLY, REALLY angry. Very, very rarely do I ever feel wells of hate boiling up inside me. But reading the newspaper this morning, I started to feel that seldom felt feeling of sticky anger towards the following organization. I'm one of those fighters that feels angry for a bit, stews for another little bit then, goes to the drawing board, sketches out my strategic game plan, and then works toward anything I can do to offer a solution. When fighting time actually comes, I am back to my happy self, because I have learned that happy warriors fight best.

But right this moment, I'm in the angry bit. If you haven't seen the article yet. Read it all here.

Camera Envy

2010-12-06T08:04:00.000-07:00

I own about ten cameras. Not too bad. Three Nikons. One Canon. An old Russian Lubitel. A Lomo. A Holga. And a few other weird ones.

However, none of them compare with this new little find. I want it. Badly. It's about $350-500 dollars depending. So, probably can't get it until next summer. It is a Contax 2G and has a Carl Zeiss lens (which means pure buttery goodness in each shot). If any of you see one of these at a thrift store (known to happen). Please, please, please buy it and I will love you forever. I will also pay you back. Let's all help each other's dreams come true. Deal? Deal.

Pillows. A slightly boring post.

2010-12-05T07:52:00.000-07:00

I have taken great delight (i.e. I'm totallyfreakingobsessedandneedhelpplease) in scouring every store I go into for the most random and beautiful and AFFORDABLE throw pillows I can find. So far I have bought three. This completes my living room. All in white.

I got this one from Pottery Barn:

I got it in White.

This is one I got at Pier One. It's fuzzy and totally different from what I usually go for:

Here is one I bought today at Urban Outfitters.

I got it in White.

I didn't buy this one of the Garden Gnomes, though I seriously debated about it (seems I want a gnome wherever I go lately!)

I'm keeping the ones for the living room all in whites. However, my cottage kitchen bench needs about three to five pillows in various shades of yellow. If you have any ideas....or if you make pillows....please contact me.

Thank you. You can all roll your eyes now :)

My Brother's Jacket

2010-12-04T08:46:00.001-07:00

When I moved to Portugal in April, it was decided that we would all be back in Switzerland for winter this year, so I left my winter clothes there. A down filled black coat that I have had for five years, and it's still as warm as the day I got it. Scarves that were purchased from people. I try not to buy scarves from a department store if I can help it, I just like the character of the ones that get sold by those who had some part in the making of them. Never too bright, but soft yarns of white, linen, blues, and grays. Gloves that I got from Ocktoberfest....the cool kind with flaps that would make it easy to smoke if I wanted to. Cozy sweaters, warm socks with stripes. And some very, very fashionable boots that I were a gift from people who paid much more for them than I ever would...but boots in Switzerland in winter are a must....whole outfits are planned around such things.

Those belongings are now all sitting in the storage of my old boss's home. Never to be returned. It's ok. I'm over it. I've lost a lot this year and material possessions are high on that list. But, already, it's colder in Utah than I ever remember it being, maybe that's because I'm wearing a horrific sweater from Old Navy that does nothing to cut the chill. Maybe I'm getting old and my skin is wearing thin? Maybe I just don't enjoy freezing one bit and I feel I shouldn't have to anymore?

Rebuying all of those things is not an option, and, have you priced coats lately? I'm one of those people that buys something really nice, but then I wear it for about 10 years (no, kidding, my favorite lounge shirt is one I bought in high school many, many years ago). So, I went home to my parents to raid the closets there and see what I could make due with until I can afford a coat (which will probably be during the sales in April :)

I found a nice, cozy, parka. Too big, but it smells like my brother. It is my brother's. So many of his things, just hanging there. It has been about a year since I have physically touched my brother. I've seen him through the sad visitors screen only once in that amount of time too. Yet, putting his jacket on each day now, I find myself having some very weird J.J. Abrams-esque moments with my brother--almost like I know what he is thinking, feeling, doing, and trying at the moment I wear the jacket. I get a little carried away, and it's not like the jacket is the Ring of Mordor or anything, but it has definitely weighed me down with more than the several ounces that it weighs. It's an interesting feeling, and maybe I'm a masochist, or maybe I just miss my brother so much that I don't mind feeling some of his pain, or maybe I just think that maybe if I'm feeling it too he won't have to feel as much....whatever the reason, I keep wearing that damn jacket.

Owl

2010-12-03T06:27:00.004-07:00

If any of you are in doubt of what the perfect housewarming gift could be to give a beloved friend...well, doubt no more.

It's this little treasure "These old hopes and fears" by Kelcey Loomer. You can see her shop on etsy. I hope this isn't gone before I can afford it.

Posing....

2010-12-02T06:23:00.019-07:00

Last Saturday, while at Sam Weller's book store listening to David Sedaris, a very eccentric older lady approached me. She had on a leopard print faux fur coat. She had bleached, bleached blond hair that seemed unruly in a pretty awesome way. Where it looks like you didn't have to put any effort into it, and you probably didn't, but others try to replicate it with a LOT of effort. And she had red, red lips. Which I dig. And she had some cat-framed glasses. Which I also dig.

In fact, I just thought she looked amazing and different. A lady that lives life on her own time fame and with her own rules. I noticed her the second I walked into the book store. Because of all of the aboved mentioned reasons.

Imagine my surprise, as I was browsing through some used Beatrix Potter books for my niece for Christmas, that I looked up and she was standing right beside me. She looked at me, smiled, and said in a thick Russian accent:

"I have something for you. Read it. Read it and then let me know."

And then she walked away.

Interesting. I opened up the folded piece of paper and saw a freshly written note:

Aw. Sweet. The rest of the note contained some information on her art. Now, I know she might give these to any tall blond that she sees. But that's ok by me. I just love that she went around and asked people to be part of her art. I often see people I want to photograph, but I get nervous to just take one of them without their permission (people can be paranoid that way), and then I get nervous to ask them too. So, I'm thinking of doing something similar. Just give them my card and tell them I'd LOVE to photograph them if they are willing. Flattering? Weird? I'm on the fence still.

K & K

2010-12-01T06:09:00.020-07:00

This is Krisanne. She is one of the easiest people to photograph I have ever photographed. She got dolled up (via my sister) in vintage and modern looks to go out in the FREEZING weather with me and indulge my desire to photograph her. She's into art. She recently was teaching Art in Mexico and she loves colors. She's pretty colorful too. She's tiny and has big eyes. Deadly combination, I hear. You can see the whole shoot here. And you can read her awesome blog here. Seriously. How glad am I that this girl is now living in Utah now!

This is KaRyn. She is one of the most talented people I know. She's a musician and she's also busy saving the world. I love her. We met in Korea when we taught English at the Sha-Sha summer camp. She is putting on a concert in January. If you're around, let me know, you can come with me. Also, she has one of the most amazingly brilliant personalities ever. And it shows. In every photo. You can see more of her photo shoot here. And you can read her witty blog here.

The Girl

2010-11-30T12:06:00.000-07:00

I'm such a sucker for a melancholy love song. You too? Then we're a pair.

Film Preview

2010-11-29T19:43:00.000-07:00

I recently started shooting film again. It's just so darn rich and dreamy and detailed in a way that digital just can't be. Here are a few sneak peeks at some upcoming film photo shoots on my photo blog. You're going to LOVE them as much as I did.

These photos are unedited. Untouched. Taken with my very cheap canon and with no lens of any merit. And yet, I think I love them

Desperately Seeking Blue

2010-11-28T15:36:00.000-07:00

In an earlier post about my journey to San Fran, I mentioned that I found an awesome vintage shop and I bought two awesome vintage pieces. Please forgive the AWFUL photos...really, it pains my artistic soul that I don't have better photos to post for this, but it's really snowy and dark outside and the dress is wrinkled and I'm not in the mood to iron.

Ok.

The first dress is the one featured here. Made by a very popular San Fran designer it dates back to 1951.

It's make by Nelly Gaffney and is in FLAWLESS condition. Just perfect for me and my complexion and for just under $100--truly a steal. Have you seen the prices at Anthropologie these days?

This is a delicate little nighty circa 1955 from Saks Fifth Avenue. I got it for $40.00. Which, in my mind, is less than what you would spend at Victoria Secret for something not quite as charming or delicate or finely detailed.

The neckline is what sold me. And the blue.

I found this little number while thrifting with one of my dear friends. We popped into Savers and found this dress in about five minutes. It was $7.99.

Seriously. Could my love affair with powder blue be indulged any better than this?!

What color are you pining for these days?

Wallpaper. Decided.

2010-11-23T02:15:00.007-07:00

After a week of pouring over every kind of wallpaper (I know, I know, you've been waiting with baited breath, haven't you?)--I have to go with my gut here. I found two that I love. They are expensive. I've never spent this much on anything having to deal with decoration because I've always rented. For the price of this wallpaper I could buy an original Amanda Blake piece of art (which is on my wish list of things for my new home.)

I can only afford to paper one wall in the two rooms I am choosing--but these two walls will pop like you can't believe.

Drum roll please:

Opinion Needed.

2010-11-22T14:47:00.000-07:00

What are your thoughts on decals....specifically--this one--say if I were to put this in my blue bedroom. Trendy? Tasteful? Tasteless? Ideas. I'd like your opinion.

I Will

2010-11-22T07:51:00.001-07:00

And I'll do it EVERY DAY.

Who you callin' Yella?

2010-11-21T10:33:00.002-07:00

I have a small back bedroom that I have to figure out how to convert into my office AND a guest room. It's small. It's only 9 x 14. It's narrow. It's got three doors to deal with--entrance, closet, and bathroom.

I've not really ever thought of doing much with yellow, but lately, I'm liking it. My two main rooms will be a neutral gray. My bedroom will be a blue. The kitchen will be white. The bathrooms will be a neutral hue as well...so the back bedroom, I'd like to make it a bit more fun. I googled yellow rooms and REALLY loved these ones. I just need to decide how to fit a desk, bookshelves, a spare bed, a dresser, and a chair into such a small space.

Suggestions?

Every day I write the book.

2010-11-20T09:50:00.000-07:00

Legs. I like them.

2010-11-19T21:46:00.001-07:00

I also love these looks from j.crew.

Carrie Saxl

2010-11-17T06:24:00.002-07:00

Last Saturday I hit a local market right around Pier 1 in San Francisco. I was drawn to a small arts fair and especially to the booth of Carrie Saxl. Her jewelry is so beautiful, delicate, and amazing in real life (and in these photos!) She had a sale, and then she offered 20% off the sale price for pre-Holiday shopping. Needless to say, it was hard for me to keep my purchase price down. I wish I could have bought a necklace for ALL of my friends. I, however, selfishly bought myself an awesome creation. I couldn't find a photo of it, but I'll try and take one and post it later. It ROCKS!

I don't do much Christmas shopping. However, I would highly recommend this delicate treasures. I love meeting and supporting people who love what they do, work hard at doing it, and go home tired and happy.

Check out Carrie's website here.

Wallpaper

2010-11-16T18:57:00.001-07:00

This is the photo that started the search for the perfect wallpaper.

It's ALMOST official! I'm ALMOST a home owner! I went through the house again yesterday as I was getting it inspected. I measured rooms and checked windows. The whole house is white--ready and waiting for some touches and flares. So, if this blog becomes house obsessed the next few weeks, please indulge.

That's where you come in. I want your ideas--and Rowena and Jo, I am talking specifically to you two-- I want any and all things and colors and places and to consider before I make final decisions. I don't have a lot of money, but I have a little to play with. I wish I didn't have such expensive taste! The wallpaper I want alone is, of course, designer and a bit expensive, but SO SO lovely and so perfectly me! I want colors, but not too bright. I like whites and neutrals and softs, but want to spice it up a bit too.

HERE IS WHAT I HAVE TO WORK WITH:
The kitchen has white cabinets and emerald green tile countertops.
Both bathrooms have neutral tile.
The main room is large, spacious, and completely white with bamboo flooring.

WHAT I'VE ALREADY DECIDED ON:

My bedroom: I'll be painting it blue and having it various shades of blues and whites.

And the dining room....well, I have white bookshelves already owned. A vintage old wood table, a red little settee to read books on, and this awesomely amazing ROMO wallpaper on one wall. It's just like the yellow in the photo, but a red/neutral color. SHAZAM! To see how the wallpaper looks in a room...click here!

Ideas! Please! Send!

So Blue...

2010-11-16T09:34:00.001-07:00

I finally splurged....Pottery Barn had the sale that I wanted, and so I just bought everything you see pictured here for my new bed in my new house. My room is going to be all about the blue, blue, blue.

Real Couture

2010-11-15T15:19:00.000-07:00

There were many amazing moments that happened as I strolled San Fran's many piers on Saturday. I shot about 6 rolls of film and will have to wait a few weeks to get them back and post all my photos here. Yep. You heard right. Not a digital image in the bunch. I have gotten so used to shooting digital lately that I feel sloppy, like it doesn't matter if each shot counts because I'll just take another if I don't like it.

That's not how I become a better photographer.

So, I took my Nikon F100 and my 85mm lens I wanted to try out, and I shot film for about 8 hours straight.

Can't wait.

I also met the lady featured in this photo. She is FANTASTIC and owns this shop. It's all charity based and her store was vintage heaven. I bought a blue, 1950s Saks Fifth avenue nighty for about $60.00 (cheaper than Victoria Secret!) and--the best piece ever, a blue dress that I will feature here on the blog in a post all of it's own.

Joy circa 1966

Joy and her store will be featured in Harper's Bazaar next month. Look for her there. Although, to really recognize her you'll have to picture her with very large, very round, very black glasses, a cashmere sweater, sweat pants, old man boots, and a beehive hair style. At least, that's what she was wearing on Saturday when I met her.

She invited me back to San Fran to see a private showing of ALL her vintage pieces, a few Dior gowns in the $2,000 range, Oscar de la Renta and etc. If any of you want to join me for a piece of artistic heaven, let me know. I'll probably be going back in the Spring. You can read another cool piece about her (as well as see some of the great clothes that are donated to her) here.

Joy featured with her favorite YSL dress

Pam and Jim, Jim and Pam

2010-11-11T12:05:00.000-07:00

Small Town

2010-11-08T06:00:00.003-07:00

Well, I was born in a small town. I was raised in a small town. I go back to that small town and visit every so often. I stayed at my parents this weekend because I had a wedding reception to go to for an old high school friend. I went to go rent a video after the festivities. Blockbuster was having a sale, so I bought several movies from documentaries (Chalk and No Impact) to an awesome foreign film featuring Gael Garcia Bernal (whom I love and adore)

Video Guy: You know this film is in Spanish, like right?
Me: Yes.
Video Guy: Cause people like bring it back and get mad that it's in Spanish.
Me: I like Spanish.

ringing up my movies....

Video Guy: Would you like me to like put these in a bag for you?
Me: Oh, I have my own.

pulling out my reusable awesome bag that I always have on hand.

Video Guy: Awesome! This is like SO SO European! Dude!
Me: We should totally make them American. Don' you think.
Video Guy: Totally.
Me: Totally.

Cancer.

2010-11-07T16:48:00.001-07:00

I didn't take this photo. But I wish I had.

Take the healthiest person you know. The one who goes running every day and lifts weights. The one who eats only fruits and veggies while you eat chocolate. The one who is vibrant and happy and full of life and energy and all good things. She's in her thirties. She's been religious all of her life. She's been faithful. She's never married, but always lives for the day when she will be. She is getting her PhD from a high, higher institution. You were roommates in NYC and you always admired her. You love her. She's like sunshine.

Imagine that you just found out she was diagnosed with leukemia.

What do you do with that?

Salt Lake City...Cooler Than You Think

2010-11-06T15:26:00.000-06:00

This is what Salt Lake City looked like last night.

Chain.

2010-11-04T12:32:00.000-06:00

When I was doing this photo shoot last Saturday, I found a chain on the ground. I picked it up. I said, "Pose with this." Glory be! My model actually did! Torrey. You rock. And you are perhaps the most beautiful person I know in real life--inside and out!

You can see Torrey's entire photo shoot here.

LOVE Bucket List

2010-11-02T07:54:00.003-06:00

When I was young and idealistic and whimsical and braided my long hair so that if fell over my left shoulder and wore sundresses and loved that my room was flowery and sweet and soft...when I was that age, I made a list of things that I wanted to experience in the world of love. I wrote them on little pieces of yellow paper. I folded them up and I put them in a small dish that I never gave back to a boy I dated. He had given me raspberries in that little dish. He gave them to me on our first date. They were fresh and round and red and he taught me how to burst the flavor of them by pressing my tongue to roof of my mouth. He gave them to me instead of flowers. Sometimes, I'll day dream about those raspberries, their taste, and the fact that we both kissed each other with remnants of them still in our mouths.

That little glass bowl is packed up in my belongings somewhere. I'm hoping to find it next month when I finally get my own house and can finally stop living out of a suitcase.

I remember a few that have come true. I wanted to kiss and kiss and kiss in a parking lot during a rainstorm...just like Molly Ringwald at the end of Pretty in Pink. It happened, and it was, if you can believe, even HOTTER than this. It was good. So, so good.

I miss kissing. I think about it a lot because I don't really want a boyfriend. I've had those. They don't stick the way I want them too. They either want too much from me or I want too much from them, but lately, it's been the former and it makes me wonder why I can't seem to make any sort of commitment. But I want kissing. I haven't kissed for two months. Maybe that doesn't seem like a long time. But it is. And I want it.

My wish list in the realm of love, I think, is simple. There is something attainable in that kind of simpleness.

One of the other simplistic wishes on my Love Bucket List is for a man to buy me the perfect used book for no reason at all other than the fact that he knows I would appreciate it. This happened, out of the indigo blue. It was a little French version of a small tale that I read when the sun is shinning. It was perfect.

What is one of yours?

Golden Nuggets

2010-11-01T04:22:00.001-06:00

In response to my dating rant a few days ago, a dear friend (one of the men out there that continuously gives hope to women like me) sent me this video.

I love a good dating metaphor.

Why I Sometimes Wish I had a Pet

2010-10-30T07:49:00.001-06:00

A Stage Mom's Halloween

2010-10-29T15:44:00.003-06:00

One of the best parts about being a high school teacher is the fact that I get to do most everything I never did in my OWN high school days. I never dressed up for Halloween, never went to a prom or a homecoming, I never dated or kissed in the hallways (wait, I don't do that now). I never did a lot of things. Most of my high school days, sadly, were spent suffering from immense insecurity and a huge battle with anorexia.

So, now I am like those stage moms who never had a chance to shine and thus try to live through their slightly talented offspring. Almost. Except, I'm living through me. Yes. This post makes sense. You just think that it doesn't. Last year, for prom, I sweetly asked my 31 year old boyfriend to go with me. And while I secretly wished he would have bought me a wrist corsage, he did dress up in a nice suit to attend. I, yes, finally got to wear a prom dress and eat a fancy dinner in it. We danced and took pictures, and quietly stole into the parking lot with the Biology teacher and his date to take a few swigs out of some carefully concealed bottle or other (actually, I didn't, I take my job too seriously, but the biology teacher did, and boy did he tear it UP on the dance floor.) And, while I'll never be crowned Prom Queen (or will I), I certainly enjoy being one of the cool teachers you can count on to embarrass themselves on any given occasion.

So, today, of course, I dressed up for Halloween in a costume that won 5th place (did you hear that people!). I entered the pumpkin carving contest and while my rendition of a baby alien head didn't win (the math teacher carved the symbol for Pi on her pumpkin= Pumpkin Pi--you just can't beat that folks) I was happy to have tried to appeal to the wide range of sci-fi students I have.

There are a million things I could say about teenagers and the power of dressing up. I'll just say one.

Walking down the hall I saw a number of students dressed like polygamists. Since I actually teach in a school where a large population of polygamists (a la Sister Wives) actually attend, I was wondering when it became a popular costume (and I was worried it would be offensive to some). Everyone seemed to take it well. And, to my surprise, when I saw the polygamist children arrive today dressed as an array of pimps and hos, I just stopped worrying altogether. These kids are the future. And there isn't a whole lot I can do about it :)

Date. Rant.

2010-10-28T08:18:00.001-06:00

There is nothing worse than when you start to develop a crush on someone and things are flirtatious and vivacious and you're smiling and you're laughing and joking and then, all of a sudden, he says the most conservative, misogynist, hateful-toward-women comment you can imagine coming out of one person's mouth. And he's still laughing because he thinks he's just won you over, and that he's the most amazing guy in the world. His ego has been stroked. He feels smart and superior and noble. He doesn't even give you the credit of being intelligent enough to see the depths of his hate. In fact, he doesn't see it either. He's programmed to believe in everything society tells him. And you really didn't just want a free cup of coffee, you wanted to believe that there were people out there who think and feel and live and dream like you. You felt a little betrayed because ALL SIGNS pointed to the fact that this man could carry on a conversation that wouldn't slight half of the population's experiences. And you, suddenly, get a small blow to the stomach because you realize, even though the banter is great, that there will never, ever, be date number two. In fact, you might just give up dating all together. In fact, that blow to the stomach comes not just from the idiotic statement of this man, but from the world of men just like him that he is the poster child for. And you realize, as you crawl into bed alone that night and want to snuggle up to someone, that you just might not ever be capable of committing to doing that because your voice and ideas and mission and everything else is tied up in something bigger than simply not being alone at night.

Damn. I really should have stayed home last night and watched the rest of Glee: Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Sigh.

Bellies

2010-10-27T19:32:00.000-06:00

I recently did two mini-shoots for some of my favorite women. They have babies gestating inside of them. I wonder how that feels. Pregnancy, lately, seems to be all around me. Lots and lots of people I know are expecting. Lots want to be expecting. Lots.

You can read about her experience here.

With marriages and babies bursting forth at the seems of life, sometimes, I wonder, in my quite little home, if I am missing something greater than I even know...or if my quiet is exactly what is right for me. I guess there is no use wondering.

You can read a little about her here.

In any case, have I mentioned how much I'd like to photograph you? I'm giving most of the money I make from photos this month to sponsor a woman at WomenforWomen.org for 2011. So come on. Book a session.

I'd Like

2010-10-21T20:51:00.000-06:00

To take a photo of just about everyone in the world. That would add to my happiness for sure. I'll do it one day at a time, I suppose.

Something Scriptural

2010-10-21T10:02:00.000-06:00

These verses of scripture are in the Mormon canon. They are something that I used to read quite frequently. These particular ones always made me feel weird, sad, scared, uncertain, and questioning why God would ever, ever, ever demand this of any woman. Why? I ignored all of these feelings for 30 years, telling myself that I wasn't righteous enough to "get" it and I needed to try harder.

61 And again, as pertaining to the law of the priesthood—if any man espouse a virgin, and desire to espouse ^aanother, and the first give her consent, and if he espouse the second, and they are virgins, and have vowed to no other man, then is he justified; he cannot commit adultery for they are given unto him; for he cannot commit adultery with that that belongeth unto him and to no one else.

62 And if he have ^aten virgins given unto him by this law, he cannot commit adultery, for they belong to him, and they are given unto him; therefore is he justified.

63 But if one or either of the ten virgins, after she is espoused, shall be with another man, she has committed adultery, and shall be destroyed; for they are given unto him to ^amultiply and replenish the earth, according to my commandment, and to fulfil the promise which was given by my Father before the foundation of the world, and for their exaltation in the eternal worlds, that they may bear the souls of men; for herein is the work of my Father continued, that he may be ^bglorified.

64 And again, verily, verily, I say unto you, if any man have a wife, who holds the keys of this power, and he teaches unto her the law of my priesthood, as pertaining to these things, then shall she believe and administer unto him, or she shall be destroyed, saith the Lord your God; for I will destroy her; for I will magnify my name upon all those who receive and abide in my law.

Obviously, these were scriptures confirming the divine guidance of the doctrine and justification of Polygamy. Growing up Mormon, I was always asked (whenever I left Utah) "How many wives does your dad have?" I was always upset because that wasn't what my religion was about. AND Mormons don't practice polygamy anymore.

But they did.

My great grandparents were polygamists. My great grandfather married my great grandmother, then he married about five other ladies, left her to fend for herself with her 6 children and never took care of her. She was left alone, started making cheese, became successful and then he came back and took a lot of the money from the business she started to provide for herself. It's worse than that. It was worse than that for a lot of LDS women.

Nice roots, eh?

I still wonder and ask, occasionally, why God would ever, ever, ever demand this of any woman?

Answer: God wouldn't. Plain and simple.

Something like a Pick Up

2010-10-19T18:10:00.000-06:00

I am buying a house. It is cute. It is small and white and feels like home. As I wait for the paperwork to go through, I've been vintage/used/old shopping. I've been scouring little shops and finding bargains and eclectic relics that will be stunning in my house. Most people might not get my style. That's ok. I get it. I like it.

I've been hitting this one store pretty often. They get new stuff in daily, they are super reasonable, and I've found three freaking awesome things already. The latest was an old church window from a 1906 chapel. All original glass, huge, arched, various decorations on each pane. Stunning. I bought it. I'm going to hang it on a wall--just as it is. The lady selling it to me kept trying to tell me how to "fix it up". The whole love relationship started when I saw how used and worn out it was!

But that's not the point of this post at all.

The point is that I think one of the owners tried to pick me up today.

But I'm not sure.

The last three times I've gone in he has told me that I smell good.

OK. The third time was a little creepy, but ok.

TODAY:

Him: "So, how tall are you?" (he didn't even say 'hi' when I walked in to pick up this awesome table I just got for a steal!)

Me: "Six foot."

Him: "Wow, that's really tall."

Me: "I suppose it is, at least, that is what I have been told."

Him: "Do you want to know how tall I am?" He said this sort of flirtingly--it was at that moment I paused--wait, was his "How tall are you?" His pick up line? Wait, is this happening? Wait, how do I handle this? Do I want to be picked up by him?

Me: "Um, sure."

Him: "I'm only 5 foot 9."

Me: "That's a perfectly acceptable height." I said because he sounded a bit sad about his height.

Him: "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Me: (not smooth dude, not smooth) Some mumblings about how I date a few different people, but not one main person.

Him: "How tall are the guys you date?"

Me: (seriously, this is the best you've got? You're NOW going to ask about the heights of guys I am dating! Dude, losing points. Ask me about my favorite place to get coffee, if I've seen any good movies, I'm buying an antique table for god's sake, ask me about antiques! Show me your antiques! Give me a discount! That's the way to a woman's heart.

Me: "They're tall, I suppose. It depends."

Him: "Taller than me?"

Me: "Yes, sir. They are ALL taller than you."

The end. **

** The most AWESOMEST part of this story is that I have started to look at men again and think about dating them. My broken heart is so utterly, completely, relishingly healed, that, like the love masochist I am, I'm ready to go out and let it be fragile with someone else.

But that all depends on how tall they are :)

Never Underestimate Slow Motion

2010-10-17T01:56:00.000-06:00

Ok. I can't express how funny this video is that my cousin introduced me to. They are called literal videos. They take a music video and then rewrite the lyrics to explain literally what is going on in each frame. It doesn't sound awesome, but it is--mind blowingly awesome. I wish I could embed the video here, but it wouldn't let me. Seriously--Total Eclipse of the Heart never looked so good! Watch it! Watch it Now!

To Be With You

2010-10-16T00:02:00.000-06:00

These colors are me.

Lip Dub

2010-10-15T13:49:00.000-06:00

I'm gathering together a group of people in SLC who would be willing to do a lip dub with me. I am not kidding. It will be choreographed! It will have lights! It will dazzle! It will be recorded! It will be staged! It could be the most AMAZING night of your life thus far!

Perhaps some fireworks?

We will most likely be doing it during Christmas vacation. Please let me know if you are interested. If you can't be in the lip dub, then perhaps you can suggest a song, contribute ideas, or make a prop and send it to me for the recording? I'll make it more official in the next few weeks.

Right now, I am focusing on the man power. Where is the real life version of Andy when you need him?

Blogging More

2010-10-14T13:43:00.000-06:00

photo from Bee Photography

I'm blogging more and reading blogs more. I'd LOVE to know what you recommend. If there are great blogs out there about life, happiness, photography, vintage clothes, art and painting, or simply full of love stories, I'd like to know what they are! Please feel free to leave your recommendations here!

Listen to Who I Am

2010-10-13T13:39:00.000-06:00

I am going to make a blog recommendation. It's one of the most honest, delightful, funny, caring, comforting, and compassionate blogs I read. I love it and so will you.

Listen to Who I Am by JonJon

He's all about the best of life:

Prison

2010-10-11T21:07:00.000-06:00

Sometimes I look at my family and realize it's not a really rosy situation. At all. Sometimes, if I say all the things wrong in my immediate family at once, I realize it sounds pretty awful. Most times I don't say anything about it, except in blogger land.

The reasons are many. Firstly, I don't want anyone's pity. Also, it's hard to talk about it without getting emotional. Another reason is that I realize most people don't know what to say or how to react when I tell them what is going on. The almost last reason is that I pride myself on being strong, independent, happy no matter what and able to handle it alone. The final reason is that I'm a little embarrassed.

Once people know about the details of my family life--well, then, I feel like it's almost impossible for them not to make judgements, assessments, and opinions of the situation. It's also hard for them not to share opinions. These don't have to be bad things, but they usually aren't good things, either.

That disclaimer being disclaimed--I went to see my brother in prison for the first time last Saturday. It was hard. I've avoided it for a long time, mostly because I've been living in another country.

He's been in prison since April. He has the same name as my father, stole my father's identity, cleared my parents out of their meager savings account so he could buy drugs. He ended up high, hungry, alone, and I believe shoeless--arrested while living in a park just down the street from my older sister's million dollar home.

Sounds like a Lifetime made for TV movie. Which I hate.

In prison, rightly so, my brother is clean and sober. That means he is himself. That means he is quiet, scared, lonely, sweet natured, and full of remorse. When he is high--he is loud, fearless, ugly, scary, and hurts every one in his path.

The problem is that my brother shares the depression problem of my mother. It's severe. Instead of trying medication, he turned to drugs around the age of 16. He's never really stopped. He is now about to turn 28. It's been a long road for all involved. He has two illegitimate children. He has no career. He's unhappy. He doesn't have a lot of hope. He cries a lot now.

I walked into the prison with my mom feeling pretty sorry for myself and my family. Why us? Why do you always have to deal with these things?

Inside I was able to talk to my brother for about 15 minutes via a computer monitor and a telephone receiver. The visits can only last 30 minutes. While my mom was talking to my brother for her 15 minutes, I looked more closely at this old man who had entered the same time we did. He was about 80, bent over, and had three small children with him. The children were 6, 3, and 2 months. The six year old was trying to calm the 2 month old. She was swinging him around and, in all honesty, not doing much to help the baby's discomfort. I went over and asked if I could hold him. The old man looked gratefully at me as I saw him talking to a young woman on the monitor. I held the little baby and noticed that his head was misshapen, his eyes at different levels on his face, and that he was most likely suffering from fetal alcohol syndrome. I made eye contact and smiled and cooed at him. He immediately perked up, smiled, grabbed at my hair, and was happy.

I looked around. There were people just like me in that prison visiting room. There were sweet parents talking to sons, there were mothers with babies talking to fathers. We could have been at church instead of prison by the looks at everyone.

I talked to the two little girls and found out that this man was their great grandpa. Their mom was in prison, and so was their aunt. The baby was their nephew. Their great grandpa took care of them all by himself and each week they came in to see their mothers.

That broke my heart.

I watched this great grandpa labor to stand up. He tried to take the baby so he could kneel down and put him in his carseat. I did it for him and then asked if I could carry the carseat to his car for him. He gladly accepted. He thanked me. He got in his car and drove away. I went to my car and just sat there for twenty minutes before I could drive away.

I am a Photographer.

2010-10-11T12:55:00.001-06:00

I take lots of pretty pictures. I like doing it. I'm going to start doing it more. In fact, I'm in the process of creating a business. Full on!

I want to share a photo blog with you. It might be mine. It might give away real details about who I am. Let's try and keep that part on the down low. I still need this quiet place, away from clients, to be me on a personal level. I'd love it if you followed it. I'd love it if you wanted your photo taken. I travel often. I'd love to photograph you, capture you, and help you see how you see yourself and others.

Go here.

Write About Love

2010-10-10T12:47:00.002-06:00

I am so in love with this band. Deep, enduring love. Can't wait for this new album to come out.

Breasts

2010-10-02T14:47:00.005-06:00

(photo I took of my lovely cousin in her wedding dress)

Here's my latest post over at exponent:

I have breasts. It does not matter if my weight fluxuates a little high or a little low…the fact is: I have breasts. I’m not complaining. They are beautiful. I love them. They are round and perfect and represent one of my favorite things about myself. With the right accessories they produce beautiful cleavage that makes me feel feminine and sexy in the very best ways.

I have not always felt this way. Growing up in a culture obsessed with modesty, I felt bad/guilt/shame when I would accidentally flash some cleavage, which would happen with the most regular of V-neck shirts. I always had to take extra care to “cover up” so that I wouldn’t be seen as a sinful/disrespectful person (like those girls who wear flip-flops to church). I was constantly bombarded with messages like the following by Elder Hales,

“Some Latter-day Saints may feel that modesty is a tradition of the Church or that it has evolved from conservative, puritanical behavior. Modesty is not just cultural. Modesty is a gospel principle that applies to people of all cultures and ages. In fact, modesty is fundamental to being worthy of the Spirit. To be modest is to be humble, and being humble invites the Spirit to be with us.”

It hurts to think how much my 16 year old self would have taken this message to heart. I would have most likely gone out and bought some turtlenecks and prayed heartily that my “pride” would be taken away and that the spirit would dwell within me. I understand that there are different facets to the word “modesty” –but do not mistake the message here. Elder Hales, and all the other Elders, are pretty clear about what a woman should and should not be wearing.

I desire so much to teach women how to respect their bodies, find their bodies beautiful and lovely, and to tap into their power in taking control of what they wear (as so many young women wear short skirts for very unpowerful reasons–but I think that’s a big result of the modesty message too). As a teacher of high school students, imagine my horror when the principal of my school gave a welcome back to speech that contained the following message:

“Now girls, it is important for you to cover all of yourself up. Just cover up. I don’t want to see your stuff. No one does. It is proven that boys like a girl better if that girl will leave something to the imagination. No guy wants to date a girl when he has already seen everything she has to offer. Keep it hidden.”

Besides being sort of creepy, it was pretty awful. And what was more awful (and creepy), NO ONE batted an eyelash. I looked at a fellow woman teacher, my age, single, intelligent who was standing next to me and I said, “Did he seriously just say that? ” And she looked at me with a blank stare. I continued, “Are none of your feminist sensibilities derailed by this speech to these young women?” They were not. In fact, the next day I was going to go in and talk to him about it, but he brought it up in faculty meeting instead. Some parents had expressed concern that he didn’t say, “Keep it hidden UNTIL MARRIAGE.” That was the concern. The. Only. One.

How, I ask you, can we empower our young women with constant talks about covering up their bodies, constant affirmations that if a girl gets raped it must have been because of what she was wearing or doing, constant convictions that their bodies are not their own–but tools used to house the spirit of the Lord (who will leave if they wear a bikini)? I ask Elder Hales, the patriarchy, and the mother’s of the church just what kind of shameful, weighty, Puritan “Scarlet Letter” are we putting upon the young women with messages of this sort?

I’m currently teaching The Scarlet Letter to my 11th graders. I’m reminded that the reason Hester Prynne is such an amazing heroine in literature is because, as John Updike said, “She is a mythic version of every woman’s attempts to integrate her sexuality with societal demands.” When societal demands end up placing Scarlet Letters on women who like their cleavage, or dubbing a woman as sinful if she isn’t “hidden”, or telling her the spirit of God won’t be with her if she wants to wear a short skirt. If societal demands DEMAND that women (old and young) define their sexuality only by the confines of a religion (a religion that wants NO woman to actually be in CONTROL of her sexuality)– then, heaven help us, what does that say about the society of which we are apart?

Also, these links go right along with it:

Teenage girls banned from Homecoming dance in Texas for not being modest enough.

A Bronx art teacher has been fired after speaking about her experiences as a sex worker at the Bowery Poetry Club. Also, the Daily News sucks. “Hooker?” Really?

At least 78 GOP candidates would have rape survivors forced to give childbirth.

She's got the Magic

2010-10-01T14:10:00.000-06:00

Magic- A Belly Grows from The Panic Room Videos on Vimeo.

As a woman, I get SO curious what this would feel like. Crazy good stuff.

Something White

2010-09-30T14:30:00.000-06:00

I just offered on a house here in Utah. It's sweet and small and white. I have visions of having a white room with hints of blue, my white kitchen with hints of green, and possibly a white couch...but I might be too sensible for that. It's just so beautiful.

The Football Poet

2010-09-21T11:48:00.006-06:00

Today, at the job I am trying SO hard to love right now, I had a moment.

The moment came in Senior English class.

I had a kids write down all the "shoulds" they get from everyone in their lives:

They should get good grades

They should go to college

They should lose weight

They should date more

They should date less

They should make new friends

They should go on a mission

They should do better

They should be more

They should be doctors

They should be football players

Then I had them write a list of all the "wants" they secretly hold in their hearts

I want to be a singer

I want to be happy

I want to my mom to leave me alone

I want to go to college, not go on a mission

I want to be a dancer

I want to learn to play the guitar

I want to be something

I want true love

I want to be peaceful

One Senior. Football player. Tall. Perfect for the sport. The epitome of a dream Quarter Back.

"I should play football."

"You don't want to play football?" I was shocked, honestly. On the outside, it seems like football is his entire life and passion.

"No, Miss."

"What do you want?"

He hesitated.

"It's ok. This is a safe place."

" I, well, I want to do, you know, art. Like poetry. I want to be a poet." He said it in such a small whisper. And, in high school English, I have to thank God that no one laughed. They couldn't. Not when this big, hulking football player said it so clearly, so quietly, and with such emotion.

The Vocabulary Genius

2010-09-10T21:25:00.006-06:00

Today, I had a big misunderstanding at work.

Today, a student left my classroom because I wouldn't let him use his cell phone. But it was more than that. Throwing his cell phone across the room. He left in a huff.

He went to the principal and told him that I was being cruel and mistreating the student. The principal came and pulled me out of the AP English class that I was trying desperately to understand some Old English version of Chaucer that seemed important at the time.

I left the classroom. Went into the hall. The principal allowed the student to vent. The student sat there for five minutes and called me every name in the book. He went on and on. I had no idea what to say. I had no idea what I had done to offend this kid. The principal didn't stop him, which, to me, seemed a little out of control.

After his rant he walked away to cool down. I went back into my class and tried to teach...the whole time wondering if I have chosen the wrong profession. After the class left, I called this boy's mother. We talked a long time.

She told me that he said I was mocking him and making fun of him.

I was baffled. I said, "But, Mrs. Student, I have only ever said one thing to your child in the few days I've had him in class. I told him he had one of the best memories for vocabulary that I have ever seen. I told him he was a VOCABULARY GENIUS."

"Yes, and he came home and told me that you made fun of him for being awful at vocabulary. He thought you were making fun of his lack of skills."

"I'm so confused."

"Well, the thing is, I just got him back from his father a few months ago. His father wasn't real good to him, you know. He sorta beat on him and left him to fend for himself lots of the time. And, well, I think he sorta thought you were pickin' on him cause he's never done real well in school. He's like, never really had no real compliments. So, I think he must of thought you were makin' fun of him."

"Oh." I said.

Something Like San Fran....

2010-09-09T13:35:00.007-06:00

Last week I thought about moving to San Fran. I did this because one person in my life (an important person) made me feel that living in Utah was probably less than what my life should be.

And I realized, after three days of debating about San Fran...that there was a more important question I should be asking.

Why do I care so much about what he thinks of me?

There is a deep part of who I am that doesn't want to disappoint the idea that he has of me. AND THAT...above any other choice I'm making right now, has totally baffled me. Hurmph.

So, I decided to take things to the extreme and examine:

At the top of one extreme is Jesus, the Prophet, or just orthodox Mormonism in general. I worshipped this extreme to the extreme. Under this extreme I was supposed to get married. I was supposed to have babies. I was supposed to give my power to a man. I was supposed to succumb. I was supposed to do A LOT of crazy shit that I never did. I failed. I failed miserably at being a good mormon girl. And while I can now give a standing ovation to that failure, for many years under the LDS umbrella, I felt pretty shitty for being such a failure. It hurt to fail that hard.

The other extreme. The most opposite thing from Mormon world I can get is the world that he represents to me. He's like the hot, chocolate Jesus of this world. This is a world of possibility, of power, of living your dreams, of knowing your dreams, of being in complete bliss with each of your actions, of being at the highest self-actualized point in life. And, there it is. And I have had glimpses of trying to tackle this world. The latest one was with BossLady. And I failed. Miserably. Terribly. And it hurt.

Now, dusting myself off again. I am taking a look at both extremes and finding where I want to fit in on the spectrum. I have, sadly, somehow made his opinion of me too high up on my list--maybe because he is male? because he is powerful?

I've gone around this week wondering why I care so much of what he thinks of me, and I guess it is because he represents so much of what I want to become....

The truth is, I have a game plan for my life--and it absolutely involves Utah at this time--but I was afraid to admit it to him.

And the reality from that is that I need to stop giving others my power and I need to trust my gut, my intuition, and my plan without doubting it when one person raises an eyebrow at it. Because if one person raising an eyebrow gets me to doubt my plan, then I need a new plan or I need to get back my power

The beautiful thing about my life right now is that I am knowing myself to my core. What if the job I took turned out to be the most horrific thing ever--who am I still? What if BossLady hates me--who am I? What if people think I bad at my job--who am I? What if Jesus isn't real and I've devoted the last 30 years of my life to him--who am I? What if the Mormon church isn't true, and my lame ass ex-boyfriend wasn't attracted to me, and my parents were sort of shitty, and I was abused as a kid, and my best friend betrayed me, and my paycheck isn't very big...then who the fuck am I? And if I can have a solid answer and know myself fully after all of that...and leave room for growth and freedom and changing my plans as I grow and change, well, then, San Fran may come and it may not...but I'll still be me :)

Gaslighting....

2010-09-08T13:31:00.002-06:00

It is in every psychological thriller. Take someone sane. And then. Through a series of related and unrelated events. Make them believe that they are crazy. Make them believe that they are so crazy that the only person who can help shed any light on what is happening is the one person that made them "crazy" in the first place.

This, in fact, has a term. It is called gaslighting. I'd never heard of it before now. I never needed to know it's definition. But as I sift through what I saw my former boss (who we will just call BossLady) do to all of the women who came to her for help, I am now aware that this is what was happening.

The official definition:

Gaslighting is an extreme form of emotional, psychological, abuse, and as such, gradually erodes the victim’s sense of self-worth and self-esteem (or, in the case of BossLady--prays upon those with already destroyed self-esteems), with the outcome being; self-confidence destroyed. Alas, the victim adopts a confused, disorientated stance and thus renders herself exposed, moreso, to criticism and judgment. Henceforth, the roles are quite clear: the victim is considered “crazy” (mentally deranged) whilst the abuser is the “suffering soul.”

Then, if you're BossLady. Make claims that you are the only one who can heal them. And take their money. And then send them home unhealed and worse than before.

The NUMBER 1 tool of an emotional manipulator is to get others to trust YOU and not their "gut" (or intuition, or feelings, or reactions).

You have instincts. They are real. If your gut tells you that there is something off with one person in your life, but they allow you to feel normal and safe with the rest of your world. Think about it. Victims shouldn't exist. And they won't if we don't allow it.

Something to Talk About...

2010-09-05T18:01:00.004-06:00

I have the smallest handful of people who take the time to read my blog. To me, that is priceless. I love it. I love that you share in my life. I love that you go through some part of my journey with me. I love going through yours with you. So, here it goes, I'm finally ready to talk about this year. And I hope, honestly, that you can learn something from the hard lessons I have learned....without EVER having to go through them yourself.

I've had a year that basically started with everyone saying that I had the dream job. I was living and working in Switzerland and gallivanting off to Portugal, Norway, Italy, and France. It certainly contains echoes of perfection.

What I have never talked about was the nature of the work I did, the types of people I became exposed to, and the reason why I eventually had to quit and leave everything to come back home to America with a very large NOTHING staring me in the face.

Yesterday, two very interesting things happened. Well, actually, two very ordinary and uninteresting things happened.

1) I got a pedicure.

2) I saw Eat, Pray, Love with my girlfriends.

Not earth shattering by any means.

Here is how they processed out in my brain.

When you see the beginning of Eat, Pray, Love (and I'm not giving anything away here). Liz Gilbert gets told by a medicine man in Bali that she will have two marriages, that she will lose all of her money, and that she will return to Bali one day as a different person.

And she did.

And it turned out to be the most amazing experience of her life--bringing happiness, love, joy, and wealth.

I was standing in a random train line in Rome last June and I met a lady. A magical lady. A lady who was gracious, charming, loving, sweet, and made you feel the best possible way you can feel about yourself in her presence. She was famous. She was well-known. And, this lady, after spending one hour in line with me in Rome, offered me a job for the rest of the summer. I was thinking about it. I wasn't sure. I agreed to one month.

And once I agreed to the one month, she looked at me and said, "I know that you will come and work for me forever. You will come to my clinic in Switzerland and Portugal. You will."

And she said it with so much love and kindness, that I sort of felt my gut reacting to her, and I believed it was true. And I made the decision to go, because that is how you live life in large ways (like I like to do). And yet, before I took the job, I had very real, nagging moments that this was not going to end well. But, I pushed that aside, dubbed it by the name of "fear", and went on my way.

And so, I did it.

And it turned out to be the most heartbreaking, psychotic, emotionally manipulative time in my entire life.

And because I made the decision to go there. And it turned out so horrifically...I am finding it hard for me to make any decisions at all. At all. None. I'm a bit at a paralyzed standstill.

Thus, the pedicure. They gave me 50 colors of nail polish to choose from. I couldn't, for the life of me, make a decision. I finally choose one that was something completely different I have ever tried before.

The lady said, "May I be honest with you, I don't think this is a good color for your skin tone. Perhaps you can choose another one?" I got a little frustrated and stubborn and told her it was the exact one that I wanted...even though part of me knew that she was right.

And now, looking down at my toes. She was right. And while the nail polish is only a metaphor for my thoughts, it's just this small nagging reminder that I didn't follow my gut.

So, what happens when you keep making decisions that turn out badly? Because, for me, this has never happened before.

Born to Run

2010-08-31T12:18:00.002-06:00

The highlight of my week so far. Yup.

Most favorite part...Hugo Cameo. How I miss him.

Something Stressful....

2010-08-24T20:34:00.001-06:00

Green Tea ice cream helps me deal with stress.

I wish it didn't,

but it does.

Hrumph.

The Wedding Invitation

2010-08-15T14:59:00.007-06:00

Sometimes I wish this blog weren't so dedicated to keeping identities private and I could put all the pretty pictures up that I take. This one is sans faces, so I think it is safe.

As my sweet sister, her fiance, and I drove down to Utah county to take engagement photos on my uncle's farm (because, where else would one go?)...the wording of her wedding invitations was the hot topic of deep conversation.

I suggested:

"What is a friend but one soul in two bodies."

She suggested:

"Cute spinster finally gets married to hot bachelor and gives everyone my age some semblance of hope."

Then I suggested:

"He's finally going to make an honest woman out of me."

(they've been co-habitating for awhile now)

And she put in that it might be good to add:

"We are pleased to announce that we will not be living in sin anymore."

And then she remembered this wedding invitation she got once that said,

"You are invited to be a part of our fairytale."

I thought the expectations of that reception might be a little high.

So I suggested something I remember getting on a wedding invitation

(with precious moments on the cover)

"We invite you to be a witness to one of life's loveliest surprises as we are joined together in matrimony..."

And then we realized the demographic of Utah and the typical wedding reception that takes place in a church, with sheet cakes, hundreds of congregation members who give you salad spinners from Wal-Mart and wear overalls to the reception (or thereabouts).

So Her Fiance suggested:

"We request the pleasure of your company as long as you don't bring your children, give us money in lieu of gifts, and don't wear stretchy pants."

This is harder than I thought. What would Martha suggest for a black tie cocktail party/reception at a beautifully lighted venue?

Something Matrimonial...

2010-08-14T08:20:00.004-06:00

My sister is getting married in two months.

We have been planning the wedding for over a year.

People will be sitting on chairs,

though I tried to get us to go the "bale of hay" route.

Tiny cookies in perfect colors will be served.

I will be the Maid of Honor

and wearing a dress that fills the roll.

This photo made me want to marry a hippie.

My sister is NOT marrying a Hippie.

Small white cakes will be served.

Pick Me Up.

2010-08-13T15:14:00.001-06:00

Even though the wrinkles on his forehead make him look like he is 40, I still HEART Joseph Gordon-Levitt in more ways that I can count. And, I think, this pick up line would actually work on me.

Move over Tiffany...

2010-08-11T13:14:00.002-06:00

I've had many a grand adventure this summer, this year, this decade. In all of those grand adventures, small moments stand out almost more fragrantly than the big ones. One such small moment was wandering in SOHO last month and coming across the most delightful jewelry store. It was an oasis for those of us who love to don a good pair of original earrings.

I was hooked the moment I saw them, but then the prices made me gulp just a little bit. But then the earrings made me gulp a lot more. So, I decided, being unemployed as I was at the time, being frugal as I was trying to be at the time, and being very aware of my bank account balance, that I would buy a pair. That's logic.

Do you ever do that? Do you ever get to such a stressed out point that you lose all control and spend $80 on a pair of earrings to make everything ok for just a moment?

I do. And I did. And I don't regret it. Because now I am employed and now I have the earrings. I wish I had a photo of them with me now, but I don't. I'll put one up soon.

Apparently GAS Bijoux is the latest rage in NYC and Paris and sweeping the world with its elegance. Take a look, you WON'T be dispppointed...unless you are. Simple. Pretty.

The Unorthodox Mormon

2010-07-29T16:50:00.004-06:00

I'm employed again! Hurray!

I'm going on a plane again! Boo!

I'm going to Norway, though! Hurray!

I wrote on Exponent today and would love for any of you to join the discussion, if you would like!

The Unorthodox Mormon

which also got mentioned here as well.

ReBrith

2010-07-21T18:16:00.002-06:00

Yesterday someone told me that I was going through life with new eyes since everything sort of fell apart two months ago. Because I couldn't work for dishonest people, in the end, I left it all behind. I left the country, the villa, the paycheck, the perks, the glamour, and finally am starting to feel like myself again.

I have a LOT to process from the last six weeks. And yet, I feel strangely silent and distant from the me that was once the writer of this blog.

I'm trying to reintroduce my last self to this new self. And once we've met, then I'll be back online.

It is, however, completely refreshing for me to spend a few hours reading about YOURselves.

Something Great

2010-06-13T17:32:00.003-06:00

Something great happens tomorrow--I'm going to China for two weeks...to see what that country is all about. I know being 6 feet tall and blonde makes Asia an interesting place for me, but I just can't seem to stay away. I started with Indonesia, a few years later I went to Korea and Mongolia, and now China. I've been sort of saving Japan for just the right travel partner. I think I will know when I meet him or her.

I've had a million things to blog about from my romance with Portugal, to my newly inherited Chuck Norris DVD collection, to the fact that I've flown from New York to Lisbon and Lisbon to New York and then did that AGAIN in the space of two weeks. I'm a little over airplanes at the moment, but I always have Mark Twain's words "Travel is fatal to prejudice" burning bright in my heart.

I haven't written much about my job, and with some new things going on at home, it is very possible that I might be in Portugal until the end of the summer only. When I told someone this, they immediately wanted to roll their eyes at the thought of living in Utah (where they live). I'll write more about this later. I don't really fall into the religious demographic of the state, but all in all, and out of all the places I've lived and traveled to in my lifetime (and that ain't no small potatoes)--I just always sort of known that I might just want to settle down right there in old Sugarhouse.

Walking Home

2010-06-01T16:38:00.005-06:00

I found this video over at First Fig--a beautiful website by a beautiful woman who is a co-blogger with me over at Exponent.

I recently returned from a little getaway to NYC. I try to return to the city I was educated in and love so much at least four times a year. I stay with friends in Harlem. And while I love that place, I can say that when I walk down the street--I have these experiences about 95% of the time. Men telling me to smile, wondering if I could handle all of them, asking for sex, demanding sex, commenting on my ass, commenting on my hair, commenting on anything and everything. I had to learn, after my first few months of living in Harlem, to block it out. Yet, at the same time, deep anger wells up inside of me that I have condition myself to block it out. Walking down the street shouldn't be such a task.

In mraynes' own words, "If men really knew how this feels, really understood what we have to do in our minds to make this ok, they would never say another disrespectful thing. I think this video does a beautiful job of showing this."

There's Something About Martha

2010-05-27T19:36:00.004-06:00

About twice a year, I indulge in a little secret and guilty pleasure. I buy a Martha Stewart Livingmagazine. That means twice a year I actually have the desire to own an ice cream machine and make my own stationary. I grew up dreaming of the days when I would host dinner parties with my matching Royal Dalton fine-bone china. The courses would be numerous, the crystal would be Waterford, and the pearls would be better than June’s. I really, really liked the idea of hosting parties. I do not know now if it is something that came with the focus my family and religion put on my being a wife and mother--but I REALLY got into the "hostess" aspect of my expected future--everything else seemed a little too daunting to wrap my brain around (like the actual marriage and motherhood parts).

When I read Martha Stewart, I get carried away to a land of what might have been—still could be. I dream of a place where children are well-behaved and have perfectly curly hair--and they run through fields of daisies with you, hold your hand, and then tell you all their secrets. I dream of a place where my husband (one of which I do not have) would wear a salmon colored tie on Easter because it went with my dress and he likes to match. I dream of the ideals of what I grew up wanting. I've never been able to actually face the realities. Perhaps that is why Martha's monthly publication still holds power over me. It represents something I could never fully embrace, even though I was taught to, even though part of me wants to, even though it sounds more than divine.

Why, in this issue alone I had all of the following thoughts:

1. I want to weave my own picnic mat and then learn how to tie it together with beautiful twine—take it to the beach and eat freshly made custard, berry tarts with little sprigs of mint on them.

2. I want to create a pattern for my very own utensil holders for each place sitting. I will make them out of cute plaid material made of out woven hemp (durable for years to come!).

3. I would like a butterfly stencil. I will use this to cut out various colors of butterflies and attach them to a white table cloth to create a harmonious look for my summer party. There will be butterfly shaped place cards with names written in my perfect calligraphy. I will even make butterfly shaped ice cubes to put in the Wonderful Watermelon coolers I will have juiced myself that afternoon.

4. I will have a lazy afternoon brunch that consists of chive omelets with chanterelles, cornmeal-fried trout (I caught myself), tomato-sorrel-basil panzanella, and fried squash blossoms. Note to self—what is a chanterelle?

5. I will get good at croquet. I will. I promise--in a sundress, with a headband, and a perfect tan.

6. I will grow and pick currants and raspberries and make them into jams and chutneys.

7. I will make fresh lemonade daily.

8. I will learn how to fertilize my peonies…I will first learn how to grow peonies.

9. I really want to tidy up my non-existent potting shed by “sprucing” up the paint and shelving.

10. I really want my sheets to match my nightgown (which is diaphanous).

And while it is hard to write these things without sounding like I’m mocking them (and her)—part of me still wants this life. Part of me wants to take out my china that was only ever used once and is now packed away in my sister’s basement (along with that crystal I got in Ireland). Part of me wants to make homemade sorbet instead of buying it from my Portuguese friend down on the beach. Part of me wants to make scalloped edged, delicate notes in dreamy handwriting instead of sending e-cards. Part of me wants those perfectly coiffed children and husband in a pink tie. And part of me wonders if it will only ever come true (and rightly so, as I am so perfectly content in life right now that I can't imagine having the energy for the ten things listed above, let alone babies and husbands) in my daydreams. I'm sort of ok with that. Actually, I'm MORE than ok with that.

Fresh

2010-05-26T07:42:00.003-06:00

I am in Portugal. I am happy. I'm a bit lonely. Those two can go together--though many will tell you a different story.

I do not have internet access for another week—only briefly and dearly. I’ve been taking long walks on my new beach, swimming in my first ever swimming pool, and trying to get a tan.

I have two swallows outside my kitchen window that I have named Katie and Hubble (a la Barbara and Robert in "The Way We Were")–they are expecting two babies any day now. In fact, I think thy might have hatched last night—as I saw Hubble with a cigar in his mouth—or a worm—hard to tell. I’m glad I live in a country where it is illegal to destroy a swallow’s nest.

I went to a small restaurant right on the beach yesterday for some grilled fish and clams. It was the best fish I have ever tasted. The clams were dug that morning on the very beach I sat on. There were divers, children, swimmers, women in all forms of dress and non-dressed, and a comfortableness with being in a bathing suit no matter what your stomach looked like that I relished.

The beaches are soft and breezy with perfectly white sand and stray dogs that follow me when I walk. I’ve named my three regulars after actors who have played James Bond. Thus, Sean, Roger, and Daniel Craig have barked at the clams and played in the water with me. I’ve walked along that beach and, as cliché as it sounds, I’ve thought a lot about my love life—or rather—the possibilities of my love life in this new country. Good things are afoot.

I’ve learned the Portuguese words for sun, flipflops, beach, clams, fish, yes, no, thank you, and gratitude. I’m hoping to learn a lot more.