Book Clubbing on a Tuesday Night

It's official: I'm a book clubber. And I have been since Tuesday night. That was our first meeting. Well, my first meeting, anyway. Apparently this book club has been around for some time, though this meeting called an end to the "summer vacation" they took from book club reading.

As One Who Reads Books, I am very excited to have been invited in to the club. Not that this is an exclusive, top-secret mafia deal or anything. But it was generally acknowledged by those present on Tuesday that this is to be a book club for Readers Yearning For Stimulating Discussion, not Gossipers Looking For a Social Hour. It may also be noted that again, while the club is not exclusive, top-secret, or mafia-related, it is not associated with Relief Society and its accompanying enrichment groups. All this basically means is that our reading material has the ability to expand beyond items published by Deseret Book. In our club we can read things written by Jane Austen, Pearl S. Buck, and Julia Alvarez.

In fact, at our meeting, we shared and suggested books to be read by the club in the coming months. Here is our no-fluff, serious-discussion-inducing list (or something to that effect):

September: How Green Was My Valley by Richard Llewellyn
October: Saving Fish From Drowning by Amy Tan
November/December: The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck
January: I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith & Love That Dog by Sharon Creech
February: This Was Andersonville by John McElroy
March: These Is My Words by Nancy Tanner
April: In the Time of the Butterflies by Julia Alvarez
May: Bel Canto by Ann Patchett

Feel free to join in and read along. It should be great fun.

A book club meeting just wouldn't be complete without a book to discuss, even if for the past three or four months the club was on hiatus. So we all came prepared to discuss The City of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau. It's a relatively quick-read of a young adult book. I was able to finish it in almost one sitting. The premise, as told to me by the book flap, seemed awfully similar to The Giver, which was a slight turn-off for me at the beginning. I mean, you can't just copy-cat The Giver and get away with it, right? Yeah, I didn't think so. But I was pleasantly surprised to find it was its own story. I enjoyed it, even. I'm not going to give away the plot here because if you want to cheat, you can go look it up on Amazon, or maybe just read it for yourself, but I will tell you that our group's discussion of the book was stimulating and somehow led to a brief but lively tangent on solving the problem of world hunger. (See what an intelligent bunch we are?)

So anyway, I need to go re-read How Green Was My Valley for the next meeting. I'm excited to dive into it again. It's one of my favorite books -- and not too many books get rated as "favorite" by me. Actually, scratch that. Most books I like get called my "favorite." Hmm...anyway, though, it's still a great read. I give it many stars.

Our Car is Sick Again...

...so we've taken it back to the doctor.

After getting the oxygen sensor replaced a few weeks ago, and after still witnessing continuing symptoms, Blake made an appointment at the car shop. He took it in early this afternoon, and it was decided that they'd run some diagnostic tests this afternoon, keep it over night, then run a few more tests in the morning. This is probably for the best because our car acts the sickest first thing in the morning.

But this means that we have to be more creative about getting around town. After work today I am going to experiment with the Ball State shuttle bus. We live about a 1/2 mile beyond the married student housing. The shuttle makes several stops there, so I'll take it to the furthest stop and walk the rest of the way home. Blake has class late tonight, but he'll be able to get a ride home from his friend and classmate. Tomorrow we'll do the reverse to get back to campus. Hopefully the rain will stay put in those looming clouds.

It's funny, though...I'm not feeling nearly as stressed about this latest kink in our schedules as I thought I would. Maybe that's because I was trained from a very young age to find busses fascinating. I remember one time my family had to run a few Saturday afternoon errands on the BYU campus when my mom got the brilliant idea to let us ride home on the bus. So my mom and us kids hopped on a bus in front of the law building while my dad drove the van home. We spent the whole ride singing "The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round," probably at the top of our lungs. It was an exciting adventure.

Which reminds me...we went on lots of adventures when we were little. One in particular fast became a family favorite, and it was aptly named The Adventure. For those of you familiar with 500 West in Provo, The Adventure was the "underground crosswalk" in front of Timpanogos elementary. My mom would drop us off on one side of the street and pick us up on the other. Apparently it didn't take much to entertain us as kids.

But anyway...back to the sick car. The repairman was pretty frank with Blake. He told him that he's really not sure what the problem is. It might not be the O2 sensor again. It might just be a problem that's making the O2 sensor not work right. So at this point we have no idea what fixing the problem is going to cost. We're crossing our fingers (and most definitely our toes as well) that it's just the O2 sensor they replaced a few weeks ago; then the whole job will be under warranty and won't cost us anything. But my gut is telling me we might not be that lucky.

In the meantime, we will be searching for more creative ways to get around town...or maybe just find more pleasure in being home. (Happily, though, the repairman told us that whether it was fixed yet or not, we would be able to have it back for the weekend; if it needed more work, we'd just take it back next week. Ah, the joys of only owning one car.)

Anyway, wish us luck!

"Gimme Gimme...I Need I Need"

I was going to consult Muncie's local psychic reader and advisor, Ms. Ray, but I decided it would be cheaper and easier to just consult the internet. And so I bring to you:

Things That Lindsay Needs, According to the Internet

Lindsay needs....

...to stop going through the dumpster at Goodwill to get her clothes.
...some food.
...to be reminded of her hotness.
...to get her head straight.
...a manicure.
...to stop thinking the world revolves around her.
...a vacation.
...information.
...to go and hide somewhere.
...some space.
...to start wearing clothes that fit her body type.
...more than a tan.
...to grow up.
...to get her act together and reconcile with her family
...to learn how to drive.
...help!
...to knock a little bit of sense into herself and give herself and how she is going to look a review.
...to stop copying everybody.
...to do something about those roots.
...a new phone.

You know, this really is a dangerous question to ask Google, especially when everyone, their dog, and their kitten has a complaint about Lindsay Lohan to share with the internet. But I don't think Ms. Ray would have done much better. With the exception of needing a vacation, possibly a new phone (or at least a new phone battery), a little help here and there, and maybe that one about going through the Goodwill dumpster for my clothes, I think the Internet is doing a pretty poor job of psychic reading and should maybe find some other occupation. So here is my list:

Things That Lindsay Needs, According to Lindsay

Lindsay needs...

...for this throbbing headache to go away.
...to go to a book club meeting (tonight...very excited).
...to finish her visiting teaching (this will be wrapped up tomorrow night).
...to follow up with maitenance (because we need our porch lightswitch to get fixed).
...to finish wrapping a baby shower gift (for our friends, Amy and Vaughan, who just adopted a baby girl).
...some quality time with her husband without the interference of his ever-present thesis.
...a nap.
...for it to stop raining already and be sunny again.
...time to relax.
...to start making her quilt.
...to turn in her library books.
...to think of something tasty to make for dinner (any ideas?).
...another nap.
...motivation.

So apparently I'm sleepy and I need some serious motivation to tackle my latest work project of writing up four new grant programs based on scant information from a website. Whew. Well, here goes nothing, I guess.

I Love Library Book Sales

And here are a few reasons why:

Books
Yes, this should be obvious. Our little visit to the Muncie Library Book Sale on Saturday was quite fruitful. Both Blake and I found several things to put at bay our apparently incurable desire for books. Here’s what I found:

• A book of Ogden Nash poetry. SO funny. Check out a few of my new favorites here and here and here and here.
  
• Bill Peet: An Autobiography. I’ve never read this one, but I’ve thought about reading it. Peet was an animator in the early days of Disney. He worked on films like Dumbo, Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan, and Sleeping Beauty. His autobiography is written for children and is wonderfully illustrated. It even won a Caldecott Honor award. This copy is a paperback in mint condition – it wasn’t ever even an actual library book (because apparently the Friends of the Muncie Library also like to sell items from random personal collections). So, happy find.
• Another happy find was a true blue Muncie Book. It’s a hilarious memoir called Our Hearts Were Young and Gay, by Cornelia Otis Skinner and Emily Kimbrough. It chronicles their adventures as they tour Europe in the 1920s. Kimbrough was born and raised in Muncie and there is even a historic district named for her (it’s the neighborhood where she grew up). They made a movie of it in 1944 and it is classic…absolutely hysterical! I suggest you all go track a copy down and watch it immediately. So, anyway, now I can add this book to my Ball jars and sit back and admire my growing Muncie Collection.
• A Childhood in Brittany Eighty Years Ago by Anne Douglas Sedgewick. Yeah, I’d never heard of it either. But it looks to be quite charming, and I can’t resist charming. It was written in 1918 and is a biography written in autobiography format of the author’s good friend who grew up in Brittany, France.
• An old VHS copy of Duck Soup. If there’s one thing I learned from my favorite cousin, it’s that you shouldn’t ever pass up a Marx Brothers film. And Duck Soup is classic! (Note: This favorite cousin also introduced me to Our Hearts Were Young and Gay…she sure knows how to pick winners!)
• A few CDs: Greig’s Peer Gynt, a sampling of Dvorak, James Galway playing selected Bach sonatas, and a Mormon Tabernacle Choir Christmas CD.*

Blake also found (quite) a few gems. His, though, are more interesting to him than they are to me, but that’s fine because he’s not making me read them. Although, he did find a nice collection of short stories by well-known authors and William Blake’s Songs of Innocence that do have somewhat of an appeal.

*You would think at times that we were sifting through the stacks at DI. Besides the MoTab CD, there was also a Lamb of God video for sale, as well as an ancient paperback copy of the Book of Mormon.

For Cheap
All of the above for only 50 cents a pound, plus $1 each for the CDs and VHS. Not too shabby, I say.

Running Into People That We Know
While we were there, we ran into a fellow from the ward. He was there with a few of his kids (including, Eve, one of my Activity Days girls…she caught up with me over by the children’s books, just as I discovered a practically mint-conditioned copy of The Bronze Bow by Elizabeth George Speare, which I of course pulled off the shelf and recommended that she buy (because it is a fabulous book). I think she bought it). After we left, Blake recounted a very brief conversation he had with this guy. It went a little something like this:

Guy From The Ward: You’ve got to be careful at things like this…or you might end up buying more than you have room for!
Blake: Uh…..yeah.

It should be noted here that we have more books crammed into our tiny one-bedroom apartment than his whole family has in their sprawling Victorian fixer-upper. So, to him I say, “You’re a little late on that nugget of advice.” Seriously, though, it took a bit of creative re-arranging to make room for our new purchases.

Running Into People That We Don’t Know
As we waited to get into the actual sale, we stood in line behind some very interesting folks. Weirdos, you might call ‘em. They honestly looked better suited for a Dungeons and Dragons party. And one of the guys called his girlfriend “Dirt.” He gave a reason (out loud, to any one who would listen), but it was so ridiculous that I’m not even going to share it here. What sorts of books do these people buy? Graphic novels? How-to guides on Cooking With Beer? Whatever it is, they sure spiced up our hour at the library book sale.

So there you have it: a successful morning spent with the Friends of the Muncie Library. Apparently there’s another one in late October. And you’d better believe we’ll be there, crazy people or not.

Other events which highlighted our Saturday and which therefore deserve to be mentioned here:

• We did our charitable duty and cleaned the church first thing in the morning. We were assigned the kitchen. It only took us 20 minutes, so, go us!
• Before heading over to the library, we stopped at the Bread Store to pick up a few items. It turned out that first thing on a Saturday morning is the time to go because, holy cow! It was like a smorgasbord! English muffins, bags of bagels, loaves of French bread, boxes of donuts….all for only 39 cents! We totally cleaned up.
• We also stopped by AutoZone and happily learned that WE WERE RIGHT. Our O2 sensor, though completely replaced not 3 weeks ago, was never actually fixed. Anyway, we’re taking the car back on Wednesday.
• It was confirmed to me yet again that a very bizarre thing that is happening to me as I get older: Buying appliances makes me happier than a toddler with chocolate cake. After putting up with an absolutely worthless vacuum cleaner for over a year, we bought a new one that actually works. Happy day! We went home and argued like kids (or, maybe I should say, not like kids) over who got to vacuum first. Pretty silly, but I guess that’s what a year’s worth of crud on the carpet will do to clean freaks like us. So, anyway, to the native Muncie gal who sold us our new vacuum at the little New and Used Sweeper Shop…your vast knowledge of the finer points of vacuums totally sold me. Oh, and so did your thick Indiana accent.
• A two and a half hour nap on a cloudy Saturday afternoon is a very nice thing. And it keeps us going until 2 in the morning (which fact isn’t necessarily a good thing when you’re aiming for 3.5 hours of visiting teaching the next afternoon. I survived, anyway).

On the Status of Plans & Planets

On Wednesday I participated in a planning jam session in the form of an Activity Days meeting with my partner, Sarah. I'm pleased to report that it was highly successful. (I'm also pleased to report that two planning-oriented minds work extremely well together.) We now have activities planned for every first and third Wednesday from September through January. Here is a sampling of the activities we'll be having:

• Sewing a scripture case and learning how to use/mark/etc the scriptures that will be kept inside;
• How to eat healthy & how to plan and serve a meal to someone else;
• Writing letters of appreciation
• A mother/daughter activity (which the girls will plan and prepare for -- with our guidance)

Ooh, it'll be such fun. I'm really looking forward to it, especially now that I feel so prepared and in-the-know. I organized all of the necessary details of each activity (date/time, where, brief description of activity, what Faith in God requirement it fulfills, and what the girls need to bring with them) into a calendar which I will present to the parents this Sunday. Hopefully this way, everyone will know what's going on and when, and I can save trees by not making the families an invitation for each activity. Also, I drafted a letter to the parents to highlight some points in the calendar. Goodness, I feel so on top of things!

And speaking of plans, here's what's on the docket for this weekend:

• Tonight two young couples who are pretty new in our ward are coming over to our apartment for games and desserts. One couple grew up in this area; they just got married in June. The other couple just moved here from Logan, Utah to attend graduate school. It should be fun. (Also, I was pleased to discover this morning that the rice krispy treats I made last night for tonight's event had not dried out, as mine usually tend to do on the second day...making them a day ahead of time was a bit risky on my part, but I wouldn't have had a chance to make them had I waited until today.)
• Tomorrow morning at 8:30 we'll be at the church donning rubber gloves and arming ourselves with vacuums. It was our turn to be volunteered to help clean the church. I hope it goes quickly because...
• ...At 10:00 there is a book sale at the library. All books are 50 cents a pound and CDs, DVDs, and audio books are $2.00 each. I've have not yet been to a Muncie Library Book Sale. Hopefully it will prove to be fruitful because Blake and I have a serious book addiction that hasn't been tended to for a long time.
• Our check engine light came on again just as we were leaving Columbus last Saturday. (What is it with Columbus turning our check engine light on? The last time it came on, we were leaving Columbus as well! Maybe Columbus likes us and doesn't want us to leave...) We've actually been kind of hoping for the light to come back on because a few days after we spent much more than we wanted to getting the oxygen sensor replaced, the car started acting like it had never been fixed. We took it back in to the shop, but were told that they couldn't see what the problem was and bring it back if the light comes back on. Our plan is to take the car into AutoZone tomorrow to get the problem diagnosed (requesting though, that they leave the check engine light on as proof to the car shop that there really is still a problem), then, based on the diagnosis, we'll either next week take it back to the original repair shop, or to a different one (if it's the same problem, the car will go back to the original shop because their work is under warranty; if it's a different problem, we're taking the car to a new guy, maybe).
• On Sunday I get to participate in another Visiting Teaching marathon. Sarah and I will be visiting with 2 fabulous-yet-incredibly-talkative ladies back to back. Last time it was no picnic (delightful and charming though they are), but maybe this time it won't be so bad because now I know what I'm up against (and, if history dictates anything, I'm up against 4.5 straight hours of visiting teaching).

I suppose you all have probably heard by now that Pluto is no longer a planet. Kind of sad, but probably for the best. I mean, I wouldn't want to be the elementary school teacher (or any science teacher, for that matter), who has to constantly update their Solar System bulletin board every time a new planet is named (which, from the sounds of things, would have been quite frequent, had they not re-defined the term "planet"). It would be much easier, I think, to just remove one planet from the board and be done with it. Plus, Pluto's been nothing but a controversy since it was found 80ish years ago, and it's always pleasant to resolve controversies. (If you are totally clueless as to the whole Pluto Isn't A Planet Anymore business, please go learn about it here.)

All right, I'm done here. Have a lovely weekend, all!

On Being a Writer

Today, on Blake’s suggestion, I was going to write about his on-going dilemma with rebelling shoelaces, but I couldn’t think of anything more to say about them other than the fact that they have a tendency to come untied. A lot.

So I’m going to talk instead about something I feel more passionately about: writing. (And this is not to say that I don’t sympathize – or even empathize – with poor Blake and his rebelling shoelaces. Because I do. Honest.)

I have long identified myself as a writer. Sometimes this identification is strong (like during those times when I count my non-creative writing) and sometimes it is weak (like when, even though I’m always scribbling in my journal or penning letters, I’m not writing creatively so how can I possibly call myself a writer?). But even so, it is always there. When I’m asked to list my talents and hobbies on various "get-to-know-you" forms, there are always two things that appear on the list: reading and writing.

Here is a pile (and I say “pile” because there really is no rhyme, reason, or order to what I’m about to list) of the various things I have written over my life:

• I guess the first thing that comes to mind are short stories. I have written a handful of short stories in my time as a writer, though I've started far more than I've actually completed. As a rule, my short stories really aren't very good, although one time I won an honorable mention for a story submitted to the New Era magazine writing contest. But I have a habit of coming up with little snippet story ideas that one day might materialize. We'll see.
• One time during high school, my short story writing endeavors turned more "novelesque." I started one novel and worked furiously on it for several weeks one summer. But before too long it was turning too sappy and sentimental, so I abandoned it. And that was probably for the better.
• My high school algebra II class was awfully boring (and when it wasn't, it was making me want to tear my hear out), so I tried my hand at writing a screenplay. Or I guess I should say adapting a book for film. I loved (and still do love) the story The Hundred Dresses by Eleanor Estes, so I figured, well, I love the story, it's short and simple. Why not turn it into a screenplay? You should note that at this time, I had minor dreams of one day becoming a director/screenwriter, and that I hadn't a clue about copyright laws. (Maybe someday when I do become a director/screenwriter and learn about copyright laws, you'll see my adaptation on the big screen. Or not.)
• I also like to write poems. Though by no means do I consider myself to be a great poet, I do think I'm better at writing poetry than I am at writing short stories (or novels ... or screenplays). I took a creative writing class while at Ricks and during that semester I learned a lot of valuable lessons about writing poetry. I also learned that if you want to get poetry published, it helps to take a creative writing class from the professor in charge of the annual student literary journal. One poem I submitted won 3rd place, and all three were published.
• As a college student, I wrote many history papers and English papers. Lest you think these two are one in the same, let me tell you right now that they are not. For one, they follow two different style guides (Chicago and MLA, respectively). Also, they are structured quite differently and their purposes couldn't be more disparate. Personally, I thought history papers were more entertaining to write. I got to research such topics as the Italic alphabet in Renaissance Italy and the newsboys strike of 1899. English papers were much more challenging for me, although I wrote one winner in my American lit class comparing selected poetry of Walt Whitman and Langston Hughes.
• Beginning half-way through my junior year of high school, I was invited in to the journalism class to write for and help produce the school newspaper. My first article had something to do with a PTA movement...I can't remember specifics. During my senior year I was named the Editorial Page Editor and had my own editorial column. I learned several things during my time as a reporter/editorialist: 1) I am not a journalist; I stink as a reporter, 2) I am not nearly opinionated enough to deserve the title "Editorial Page Editor," 3) You can get free meals if you write a good review of a restaurant.
• As a part of one college job I had, I was assigned to write a how-to manual for those student employees who would one day replace me. I guess, really, that this is just technical writing. It took me a really long time to write, and I learned that it's easy to forget steps you've accidentally trained yourself how to do in your sleep. But the experience has been beneficial, as I have been asked to write another one for the job I currently have.
• As I've stated before, I write a lot of letters and emails to friends and family, chronicling updates and whatnot. These are fun and give me a chance to not only try to keep in touch with people, but I get to experiment with a few different writing styles and techniques (yep, guys, you are my guinea pigs!)
• And I try to write on this blog at least 5 times a week. This is similar to my writing in a personal journal on a regular basis, only the blog is much more public. One thing I like about the blog is that it gives me an audience (yep, guys, you're guinea pigs again!) to practice with, which motivates me to write posts that are (hopefully) well-structured and focused. My journal, on the other hand, is mostly just a lot of rambling, which I suppose by itself is good writing practice.
• Though this is not exactly writing, per say, it does relate. Nearly every day I am given the chance to fine tune my editing skills. I review and mark up Blake's papers and give official office documents a thorough run-through. I enjoy doing this, just like I enjoyed my teaching grammar class at BYU, although sometimes it makes my head ache.

Wow! Look at how much I've written! I do write a lot. Whew.

There is, though, one last thing I write. I actually did it for the first time today because my boss couldn't figure out how to say it quite right. Today I wrote my first letter of dismissal for an unhelpful graduate assistant whose services are no longer needed. It was my first try at ghost-writing. It's not exactly my favorite thing to get to write; writing one of these is akin to writing an obituary ... something I am not looking forward to doing. But it was flattering to, as the Writer of the Office, be asked to whip it together. Though my signature certainly wasn't attached, I did feel a thrilling twinge of uppity superiority as I wrote it, as if I was the one doing the letting go.

Anyway, now I'm thinking...maybe I really could carve myself a writing career someday, just like people have been telling me all along that I should do. I mean, I've had a lot of practice. Or something like that.

Penmanship 101

When I was younger, I was often complemented on my fine, neat handwriting. It was not uncommon for me to get gold stars and check pluses on assignments simply because I had written them neatly. My first library card, which I received when I was about 5 years old, has my name -- or signature, if you will -- printed neatly on the front. I still have that card, and people who have seen it tend to exclaim, "You were how old when you wrote that?!" I was The Girl With the Good Handwriting.

But this is the case no more. I'm not sure what happened, but my handwriting is no longer very neat. Either my thoughts started moving too fast for my ability to write, or my fingers started getting too lazy. Or maybe it was just the discovery of my ability to type in the neighborhood of 70 wpm. Whichever it is, my handwriting has turned to chicken scratch. And I don't like it. I mean...I've got a reputation to maintain.

Let me explain: I am the daughter of a wonderful calligrapher. She has beautiful handwriting...even her "messy" handwriting is pretty and uniform. When my teachers and childhood girlfriends used to comment on my neat, precise handwriting, they would usually attribute my talent to my mother. And I don't blame them. Mom has taught me a lot -- I audited both her beginning and advanced calligraphy classes at BYU, I'd sit through individual calligraphy lessons during summer vacations, and I'd meticulously study her writing doodles during church and copy them the best I could. She was a great penmanship teacher.

And I've always liked penmanship. I like practicing. I like "doodling" words. I appreciate the shapes of different letters and the many ways one can make a letter A or a letter G. I see penmanship as its own art. Experimenting with different styles and alphabets has always been something I enjoyed.

But I think I need to go back to penmanship school. Or maybe I just need to slow my thoughts down to a more manageable pace. Often, when I get an idea, I feel the need to write it down as soon as I can so I don't forget it -- and if I don't write it quickly, the sentences I formed in my head will disappear and be lost. And we can't have that. They're good ideas, usually. Sometimes, anyway. But you can see my need to write quickly...and my accompanying problem of messy handwriting.

Seeing as it's back to school time, maybe I should go wander through the school supply aisles at Target and see what penmanship copy books are going for these days. Maybe I can develop an alphabet that can accommodate both my need to write quickly and my need for that writing to be legible. Or maybe I should just cut to the chase and learn shorthand. Or maybe I should just practice writing my letters again, like I used to in first grade. I mean, it apparently worked then, so why not enroll in Phase II?

All right, well...this has been fun, but I think I need to go practice my penmanship now.

The Storm Before the Calm

The rain, rushing to earth
from a lead-gray sky,
splatters onto the
worm-lined pavement
and into the gray-brown mud puddles
surrounding my porch,
angry, confused, and constant.

I can see no sign of it stopping.

A gust of wind splashes
a bucket of egg-like drops
against my window,
draws back,
and repeats.

They say it's supposed to be like this
all day. The weight
in my shoulders,
in my heart,
confirms the rumor.

For a moment the wind calms.
The rain, though
still constant,
becomes gentle, quiet, approachable.

The pain in my shoulder eases,
and I begin to question
our weatherman's authority.

And though the clouds
could continue to cry
for hours longer,
the field beyond the evergreen trees
glows green and hopeful.

~~~

I wrote that poem a year ago. Things were pretty hard then. I was spending my days home by myself while Blake was at school. I'd go out in the mornings for a little while, apply to any open jobs I'd been able to dig up, then come home and wait in the lonely quiet for the phone to ring. I was afraid to go anywhere for fear of missing the one phone call inviting me in for an interview. And besides, there was no money to spend anyway. Those were long, slow, quiet days. And it was no way to live. I was lonely and miserable, and when that rainstorm hit, all I could do was lay on the couch and cry. And write a sad poem, apparently.

I've been thinking these last few days at just how much better things have gotten since then. I am a thousand times happier. I have a job that pays well enough to live on. I belong to a ward that needs me and relies on the services I can give them. I have found many friends in that ward, and though I miss the friends I left behind when we moved, I have learned that just because thousands of miles separates us, we can still be friends and stay in touch. My husband has an assistantship which eases somewhat the heavy weight of debt we are carrying. The future is still hazy, but my testimony and faith have grown so that, while not definitive, at least it's brighter. The sun is out today; it's perfect and comfortable. For the first time in a while I feel like I belong in the place where I am. I am happy.

A few weeks ago we received a happy donation in the form of old General Conference cassette tapes. We keep them in the car and in between our various conversations and private thoughts, we listen to the talks. One talk, by Elder Bruce C. Hafen from April 2004 Conference, particularly caught my attention. He was speaking about the atonement, but the connections I made to it on that particular day didn't really have much to do with the atonement. In fact, I didn't even realize that he was talking about the atonement until I looked up the text of the talk a few days later. He said that "without tasting the bitter, we actually cannot understand the sweet," and he implied that a life without "harsh experiences [...] would be a [like] story with no plot and no character growth."

I have to agree with this. The bitter has to come before the sweet or we wouldn't recognize the sweet if it slapped us in the face. I wouldn't be able to appreciate the happy I am now feeling if I didn't have anything to contrast it with. I wouldn't be able to savor Blake's assistantship. I wouldn't love my new friends and ward family as dearly. I wouldn't understand the peace that a growing testimony brings. And I can attest to the fact that difficult times really do help you to cultivate in yourself a well-rounded and interesting character. (At least now I have stories to someday tell my children..."Life Lessons Learned the Round-About Difficult Way: You Too Can Survive Them.")

Anyway...maybe now I should go write a poem about sunny days and calm breezes and green grass and comfortable shade and pretty flowers. Because when I look out my window now, that's what I see.

The First Day of School

Today marks the first day of the second year that I am not going back to school. Blake's going to school today though. So are about 20,000 other Ball State students (who spent last week seriously crowding up the campus with their cars backing up traffic for blocks at a time and their piles of personal belongings stashed on every spare space of sidewalk as they waited to check into their new dorm rooms...it was a hectic, congested week on campus). And I learned over the weekend that schools are starting in both Provo and San Antonio. It's a busy Monday for the education world.

Part of me is a little sad not to be having a first day of school of my own. It still does not seem natural to not be in school. Although I suppose that it really shouldn't feel natural, seeing as how 70% of my life thus far has been spent in a school. Though, if things had gone according to the plan laid out by my bachelor's degree, I should be teaching. In a school. But sometimes you get thrown curveballs and things have to wait.

Anyway, all this hustle and bustle about the opening day of fall semester has gotten me thinking about my own college days. (I still feel too young to be speaking of "my college days" in the past tense, but I suppose that's something I'll just have to get used to.) And so here are a few of the highlights and lowlights of my days as a student both at Ricks and at BYU.

Highlights

• That time I was voted by my classmates as the most typical looking BYU co-ed in my American Literature class. (At least, I think this is a highlight...it was pretty funny anyway.)
• The night the 7 foot snowman was thrown down our stairwell. It had been passed around from doorway to doorway for about a week. And then, late one Saturday night, we heard a loud thud outside our door. It wasn't necessarily funny at the time (well, it kind of was), and it made getting out the door for church in skirts a little challenging the next day, but it's definitely a fond memory now.
• The large Halloween party my roommates and I put on. It was complete with costumes, fortune telling (brought to us by Michelle the Gypsy), games, a lot of food, pumpkin carving, and a black light bulb for the front porch light.
• That day a certain young man starting riding the bus with me at 6:45 in the morning just so he could catch me alone to ask me on a date. (I said yes, and the rest is, well, history.)
• Asking the stair question to the 100 Hour Board and being taken seriously enough to get a definitive answer.
• Favorite classes: Intro to linguistics, history of the English language, Civil War history, history of the Italian Renaissance, American literature, bookbinding, creative writing, young adult literature, children's literature.
  

Lowlights

• That time the ceiling of our apartment complex lobby completely fell through. My apartment shared a wall with the lobby. In fact, the horrible smelling leak that started it all began right outside our front door. I think it goes without saying that it was a soggy, foul-smelling mess, and made life there quite miserable.
• The hermit roommate I had my first semester at BYU. In the 2.5 months we lived together, I think I saw her 3 times. She just stayed in her room ALL DAY LONG.
  
• Least favorite classes: history of the American Revolution (interesting topic, bad teacher), Modern Latin American history (if I spoke Spanish, this class might have been better), intro to film (awful TA), exploration of social sciences teaching (a 20 hour/week waste of time).

I could probably go on more about the highlights than about the lowlights...I liked my time as a College Girl. Though I don't necessarily want to repeat them, my undergrad years were good ones which I thoroughly enjoyed. Maybe someday I'll go back to school, either as a teacher or as a student. If I went back as a teacher, my dream would be to teach American history and/or English in a junior high or high school. If I went back as a student, I think I'd aim for a graduate degree in English/editing or maybe a master's of library science. We'll see. Neither of those will be happening any time very soon, so there's time to think about it.

"So Much Time and So Little To Do. -- Wait, Strike That, Reverse It."

This week's been busy. Crazy busy, you might say. There has been too much to do and barely enough time to do it in. And even though an equally busy weekend is staring me square in the face, it's nice to know that today is Friday. I've made it this far, I can keep going.

Sometimes I have to sit back and ask myself, "How do I keep going?" And then I have to sit forward and answer myself: "I make lists. And I cross things off them. That's how."

It is true that I am one of those so-called "listmakers." For some reason I like overwhelming myself with a list three miles long of everything I need to do. But there is a strange satisfaction in being able to cross things off that list.

Sometimes my lists get out of control. When I feel stressed, and my current list isn't handy, or if it's getting too difficult to read what's left there to do because of all the scribbles crossing off what I already have done, I'll grab another piece of paper and start writing things down again. On very busy weeks, I end up with, oh, somewhere in the neighborhood of five thousand different lists. Like this week...I think the amount of lists I made grew exponentially every twelve hours or so. But it's generally not a very good idea to have so many lists because then what's the point? Isn't a list to help you feel organized and in control? Maybe I should put myself on a bit of a list diet.

But organization aside, there is definitely a euphoric feeling that comes with having your own to-do list, your own agenda. An exhaustingly euphoric feeling, but euphoric nonetheless. It helps increase efficiency, which is something I am all about. If you're going to go all the way to the other side of town to go the post office, why not make a stop next door at the bread store? It makes sense...and then you can cross off more than one item in one shot. So not only does efficiency save time, but it also saves gas. And since gas prices are the popular thing to talk about these days, you might as well save some and give yourself something to talk about at your next dinner party.

Yesterday, after letting it sit on my list for about a month and a half, I finally crossed off my Go To The Fabric Store And Buy Quilt Stuff line item. At the beginning of July, when I was in Utah for my brother's wedding, I went to a little quilt shop with my quilt-making aunt. She gave me a few quick lessons in quilt construction, helped me find a simple pattern for a small quilt, and inspired me to go make it. It's taken me a while, but yesterday I spent my lunch hour at Joann Fabrics deciding on fabric and purchasing a few other needed supplies. Fabric stores are pleasant places when you've got time to enjoy them. It's fun to get lost in a sea of colorful cotton prints. And it's entertaining to chat with employees and other customers at the cutting counter about each other's different projects. So now, when I can find some time to not only stop and smell the roses, but sit among them as well, I'll start the quilt.

And so now for the weekend. For the next few days we'll stay busy returning and checking out library items; driving to Columbus, OH for a session at the temple; planning a Relief Society lesson; talking to family and friends on the phone (including my great friend, Emily, who is moving soon to St. Louis...so close to us!!); doing laundry, running a few errands -- to the grocery store, to the gas station, and probably to that necessary evil, Walmart; writing a thesis; going visiting/home teaching; attending church and its subsequent meetings; cleaning up the house and cleaning out the car; and telling all those people who tell me that just because we don't have children, we can't possibly understand what busy means to please shove it.*

Have a lovely weekend all!

*And yes, I've been told this several times recently and it's starting to get annoying.

Results Show

I've noticed a trend lately in these reality contest shows that are taking over the TV airwaves. On Wednesday they will have their "regular" show where all of the contestants will perform. Then on Thursday they will air a "results show," where America's sucked-in voting-viewers can see who was named the winner of that round.

Because today is Thursday, I thought it fitting to share a "results show" of my own. To recap, yesterday Blake went in for an interview for a graduate assistantship. This particular assistantship was the most financially rewarding of any we'd seen and applied for in the past year that we've been looking. It was located in the department where I work, so it would be incredibly convenient. The competition, however, was fierce. How did Blake fare in his interview? Did he win this potential employer over with his ample supply of maturity and related experience and the fact that he wore a suit? ...We'll find out after this commercial break.

[Too many commercials advertising even more awful reality contest shows air. You're just about ready to get up, turn the TV off, and read a book when....]

And we're back. If this were a real reality contest show, I'd probably have to recap again, but today I'll spare you. I'll just ask one more time...Did Blake get this assistantship? [Here I would beg for a drum roll and fumble as I opened my special results-enclosed envelope. This would be followed by more drum rolling and unnecessary stalling.]

YES! Blake got the assistantship!!! Congratulations to you, sir.

But seriously, guys. This is the most fabulous news we've had in a long time. What a tremendous weight off our shoulders...I mean, this means that we won't have to pay another year of out-of-state graduate tuition, plus he'll receive a stipend. And what a blessing to know that if we just exercise patience and faith, the Lord really will bless us. Anyway, thank you to all those of you have kept us in your thoughts and prayers. We really appreciate it.

Congratulations, Blake! I'm so proud of you!

Wednesday Potpourri

Potpourri is nice because it adds spice to a room. Today I am going to add spice to your day by giving you a potpourri of what’s been happening in my world recently. Hopefully you won’t find it too strangely scented…like the new potpourri they’ve put into the restrooms in my office building that smell out of season – like miniature flocked Christmas trees and cinnamon scented candles… But anyway, here we go.

On Sunday night my Aunt Karey and her two boys, my cousins Dallin and Ian, spent the night with us. They are moving from Michigan to Utah and Muncie turned out to be a good place to spend their first night on the road. Of course, it was pretty cramped in our tiny apartment, but they didn’t seem to mind the creative sleeping accommodations. It was good to see them…neither of us had seen them since my uncle’s funeral, a year and a half ago. The boys sure have gotten big.

Today – even right at this moment! – Blake is interviewing for a graduate assistantship. Hopefully all will go well – we really need him to have one. We’ve been keeping our eye all summer on one in the department where I work. So now we’re crossing our fingers and praying super hard that both the inside connection and his stellar bill of related experience will get him the job.

Because he wanted to look his best for his interview, Blake got a haircut yesterday. I got one, too, since we were at it. This was, I think, the first time I’ve ever heard Blake beg for a haircut. Usually he hates getting his hair cut, and I really can’t blame him. I have to say, though, that as much of an inconvenient pain it is to get a haircut, I do love the feeling of getting my hair cut…the tingle of someone else combing my hair, the scissors against the back of my neck, not to mention the razor job at the end. It feels nice.

Because I’m tired of being in charge of a Relief Society enrichment activity group that no one ever attends, I have decided that last night was my last as the gal in charge of the Writing Group. It’s becoming too much of a pain to prepare for something that no one shows up for. I haven’t yet, though, told the enrichment leader of my plan. She might be disappointed, seeing as I wanted to be through with the group months ago and she wanted it to continue, but I don’t think that backing out will be too much of a problem, seeing as I doubt anyone will even notice the group’s disappearance.

Today, in celebration of the birthdays of two co-workers, I went out to lunch with our little office. We ate at this wanna-be-California restaurant called Cheeseburger in Paradise. The surfer theme seemed a little out of place for Midwestern Muncie, but the food was decent enough, as far as cheeseburgers go. (I’ll probably never eat there again, though).

Last week I finished reading The Name of the Rose, by Umberto Eco, after spending all summer trying to get through it. Don’t get me wrong…I enjoyed the book. It was just kind of slow. I mean, it took me all the way to page 350 (of 500) to get into the heart of the story. But once I did, I didn’t regret the slow swimming through medieval religious debates that it took me to get there. As soon as Rose was wrapped up, I read The City of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau for a book group that’s meeting at the end of the month. I had my doubts at first on this one…the premise seemed too much like The Giver and I didn’t think I could stand for a great story like The Giver to be copycatted. But I was happily surprised at how good it was…I read it nearly all in one sitting. Now, on the recommendation of two people in two days (on two separate occasions), I’m reading I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith. So far so good. Next on the list: Nothing to Do But Stay, Portuguese Irregular Verbs, and The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency. Meanwhile, Blake has stayed up many late nights deeply involved with Atlas Shrugged.

The students are starting to come back to Ball State. Muncie’s getting awfully crowded. I’ve enjoyed summer here because of the emptiness. Provo used to get like that, when I was little and before BYU so heavily promoted summer school. I liked Provo more in the summers back then, too. Anyway, it’s nice, though, that the major construction on the north end of campus (right in front of my office) is finished so we can have our road back.

I would have to say that the weather has been pretty much perfect these last few days. Not too hot, not to cold, not too humid…last night was even cool and dry enough for us to keep our windows open instead of using the A/C. Usually in the summer months it’s too humid at night to even dream of having the windows open. But now it feels nice. Yesterday morning there was thick, thick fog which made it difficult to drive to work, but I didn’t mind. I like fog…its gray is strangely beautiful and very mysterious.

I read an article yesterday online that said that NASA misplaced 700 boxes worth of important historic data and recordings…including the recording of the first moon landing. How do you just misplace something like that? Why wasn’t it being kept safe in a museum vault somewhere? Just my thoughts.

Well, I think this is enough potpourri for one Wednesday. …Not that it was incredibly spicy…but it was random anyway.

New & Improved Photo Gallery

Blogger has had more bad days than good recently, which has made it rather difficult to post pictures on our photo blog. To remedy the situation, we have become Picasaweb users. The new link for photos is still found to the right on the sidebar, but now it is called "Our Mixed Up Photo Files." When you click there, you'll find that the format is different, but the photos are the same. Anyway, hopefully this makes uploading and viewing photos easier for us all.

Enjoy!

A Town Called Mooreland: A Day in the Life of a Girl Named Zippy

"No event was more important than the Mooreland Fair, and no one was more honored than the Queen, so the year my sister ran for Fair Queen, 1972, I broke open my piggy bank to put all my money in the decorated coffee can that sat in front of her picture in the Big Tent at the entrance to the fair. The queen was decided by a process called "a-penny-a-vote," which was modeled on democracy but confused with capitalism, and thus was successful, as processes go."
-- Haven Kimmel, A Girl Named Zippy: Growing Up Small in Mooreland, Indiana"

I, my friends, spent last Saturday at the Mooreland Free Fair -- the most important event in Mooreland -- nay, in all of Henry County! -- and I -- I took my pennies and voted for my Fair Queen favorite. Are you jealous? Because I think maybe you should be.


Saturday was a beautiful day -- the most beautiful all week! -- so Blake and I dragged our friends, the Paulsen's, with us to go to Mooreland for some fair festivities (They came willingly, mind you. After reading Zippy, Sarah was even very excited to go! ...But of course, how could she not be? It's Mooreland, after all.)

First we went to the parade where we were thrown more than our fair share of parade candy (it helped to have two small children sitting with us) and saw more than our fair share of tractors, fire engines, and creative religious floats (we were reminded several times of the beauty of praising the Lord). Small-town parades are funny, and I would hope that everyone gets a chance to attend one at least once in their lifetime. Most of the entries are nothing more than free advertisements for the towns' small businesses, and it's apparent that the float budgets are microscopic (one float was nothing more than a bare flatbed truck, on which stood an old wooden outhouse, which was probably just grabbed from someone's backyard, followed closely by an olive green toilet, which was also probably just grabbed from someone's backyard...somehow this entry had something to do with the theme of "Our Changing Times," and I'm pretty sure there were some religious undertones).The parade was where I was first introduced to the Fair Queen candidates. They all wore their prom dresses and had probably had their hair done that morning at the Cut 'n Curl. Each one sat in the back of their sponsor's (ie. their dad's) car, jeep, or truck and waved, blew kisses, and threw candy to entice a high voter turnout. Well, they sure won me over because later in the big pavilion I forked over all three pennies I had with me to vote for one of them...though I can't remember which girl I picked.

The fair itself was mildly disappointing because the one thing I was willing to spend money on (besides the Fair Queen vote) was a ride on the ferris wheel. But they didn't have a ferris wheel this year. Very sad. Oh, they had those "ferris wheels" (if you can call them that) that spin upside down and every other which way, but I wasn't about to pay someone to make me throw up. So instead we walked up and down the midway and briefly considered throwing away money to win a rabbit.

Because you can't go to Mooreland without paying homage to some important Zippy sites, we stopped for a picture at the Welcome to Mooreland sign, as well as at the Mooreland Friends Church. We think that this time we were able to spot Zippy's house, but we're still not sure if we picked the right one. It turns out that Blake has the fortunate luck to work with a lady who grew up with Zippy and sat next to her in math class and also took English from her mom. Here are a few lesser known Zippy facts that you may be interested in adding to your stash of useless-but-interesting trivia:

• Zippy was born Betsy Jarvis. Kimmel is her married name, and I suppose that Haven is a pen name.
• She has a very pleasant voice (as does her mother),
• And she herself is a very pleasant, happy person.

From what I gather, the citizens of Mooreland are proud of their Betsy Jarvis, though a good number of them still haven't read her memoirs. (But it's a small town, so I suppose it's excusable.)

After we wore Mooreland out, we drove down the road to see where Wilber Wright was born. We would have toured his home as well as the barn-turned-museum, but we arrived literally two minutes too late, so instead we snapped a photo and marked it on the books that we were there.

So there's Mooreland for you. I wish I could invite you all to come with us next year, but I don't think we'll still be in the area. Sometimes I get a little wistful when I think that we'll have to leave this part of the country before the Mooreland Free Fair rolls around again. *sigh* Well, at least I can count myself as one of the privileged few who have read Zippy's stories and lived them (in part) as well! (Lucky me!)

(For more pictures of the events mentioned above, please click here.)

Chronology of Suspicious Activity

Saturday Morning:

Two days ago this tomato was ripening nicely on the vine.

Now it is sitting, half-eaten, next to the chipmunk tunnel by our front step.

I think our garden's been found out...

Saturday Afternoon:

Considering that all that is left of the tomato is the rind, my suspicions are mounting...

Sunday Morning:

Well, the red tomato is completely gone. Now it seems they're going for the green ones. (I personally only like the green ones fried, but to each his own, I suppose.)

Any thoughts on how to save our few remaining tomatoes from our nibbly chipmunk friends?

Catch-All

At work, I am the Catch-All Girl, which is the casual term for line item 8 of my job description (which states "perform other duties as assigned"). As such, I do things like edit important documents before they get sent to important people, bind proposals using the really nifty binding machine, make labels and update filing systems, run mini-errands and almost go on business trips, and help transport boxes of presentation supplies from one building to another, etc, etc. I am also quickly becoming an authority at the copy machine.

Since I am the Catch-All Girl, it is fitting that the cubicle I spend my days in is also the Catch-All Office. My small corner desk, plus the 2-drawer filing cabinet I use, takes up perhaps just shy of 1/4 of the space in here. But the office is full. There is a bookshelf that holds binders, books, and reports that are several years old; two other filing cabinets full of documents passed on by former employees and other items no one is quite sure what else to do with; a credenza on which sits the glorious binding machine and a large 3-hole punch, and inside of which are a sampling of general office supplies; a coat rack; the office recycling bin; and in every possible bit of extra space there are piles of old manila folders, green hanging file folders, monthly economic development publications, empty binders, and random mislaid documents.

When I am asked to do these catch-all jobs, I try to do them quickly and efficiently. I jump on the task pretty much just as soon as I am asked to perform it (partly because I want to do well, and partly because an important presentation might collapse into utter ruin if I don't), and I am nit-picky when I proofread papers (but as Elaine tells me, "Picky is Perfect for Proofing"). My co-workers often apologize that I get left to do the dirty work that no one else want to do, but I really don't mind it. It's mindless work and sometimes that is nice for a change. And besides, it is not my particular dream to climb up this particular corporate ladder, so I am not particularly busy trying to prove myself and get ahead.

My time during the last week or so has been filled with a more-than-usual amount of catch-all jobs. On the one hand, it's been nice...it's nice having something to do to fill your day and make the time pass by quickly. It's nice to feel like a needed asset in the office. On the other hand, it's been stressful because each of the many catch-all assignments came with a Do This Immediately time frame.

Anyway, now it is Friday, and the influx of catch-all assignments has died down. It is quiet here and a casual attitude is happily affecting everyone. The weekend will be here in approximately 4 hours and that is a thing to look forward to. In the meantime, though, I suppose I should clean up the debris the last few days left in their wake.

Activity Days Extravaganza!!!

One should never have a sleep-over with eight 8-11 year-old girls. Even if one is still youthful enough to survive it in one piece, it is still not a good idea. That's why we didn't have one, even though my Activity Days girls begged (and pleaded...and begged some more) to have one this summer. But luckily for them, we didn't leave them and their begging in the dust. Instead we had a Late Night Extravaganza. Good times, we had. Actually, I faired much better than I thought I would, considering that I had been dreading this event for some time. And I have to say that I'm quite proud of my girls...they were very well behaved.

The festivities began with a 3-hour swim at the country club. I was not able to attend this segment of the party because I was still at work. But I joined them at 6:00 for the party at Tonya's house. Tonya was the girls' old primary teacher and my former Activity Days partner. She was released about a month ago (and was replaced by my new friend, Sarah, who also attended the event), but since this extravaganza had been planned prior to her being released (and because she absolutely adores these girls), she was still heavily involved in this activity. And by "heavily involved," I mean she pretty much took care of everything. (She's pretty great that way.)

When I arrived, the girls were outside playing on the lawn. It was actually a pretty nice day yesterday, despite the prediction of a 30% chance of rain. The sky was partly overcast, and the air was cool and not too humid. Just nice. So the girls were outside playing games with each other, rolling around on the sidewalk, and painting their fingernails. They came inside, though, soon after I arrived, to play a silly game of charades and do a craft (making candles in jars of colored sand). Then it was time for dinner. Tonya's husband grilled some chicken and cooked lots (and lots and lots) of cheesy potatoes. I brought a vegetable tray, and Sarah brought a frozen yogurt fruit side dish (which was very tasty). The dinner complemented nicely all the cookies and trail mix the girls had consumed just prior. After dinner, they all spent a loooong time in Tonya's really neat exercise room -- you know, toning up so they can look good for the boys when school starts next week. Meanwhile, Sarah and I cleaned the kitchen, and Tonya's husband made the best homemade ice cream I have ever tasted. A few more games and bowls of ice cream and then suddenly it was 10:00 and their mothers were coming to pick them up.

It was actually a very pleasant evening. I love these girls. I don't think I could ask for a better calling. Here are a few pictures of them. For more, click here.

In hammock, from left: Aurora, Miriam, Eve (Eve and Aurora are twins, in case you couldn't tell...yes, they are fraternal, so you probably couldn't tell...so aren't you glad I told you?)
On grass, from left: Morganne, Shaylie, Reagan (Reagan is Shaylie's non-member friend who joined us for the activity.)

Making candles in jars of colored sand.

Playing charades.

Character Collage

I am a reader (and consequent book lover). And so it is fitting, I think, that I see elements of the characters I read about in books in myself. And so I bring to you...my Character Collage.

I am part...

• Francie Nolan (A Tree Grows in Brooklyn) because I am thoughtful, observant, and oftentimes lonely. I need to be needed and change is pretty much always difficult for me.
• Katie Rommelly Nolan (A Tree Grows in Brooklyn) because even though change is hard, I'm determined to survive.
• Harriet M. Welsch (Harriet the Spy) because I am a writer and am always scribbling something.
• Boo Radley (To Kill a Mockingbird) because I'm shy and pretty much scared of everything.
• Tacy Kelly (Betsy-Tacy) because even though I'm timid in groups, I'm always included, even though I may not fully realize it at the time.
• Jane Bennett (Pride and Prejudice) because I am the oldest daughter and have a tendency to sometimes be an obnoxious optimist.
• Ramona Quimby (the Ramona books) because sometimes my curiosity puts me in the way of things. Also, I have short straight hair.
• Matilda (Matilda) because I am and always will be a reader.
• Fred and George Weasley (Harry Potter) because I am amused by a good practical joke and I appreciate the witty.
• Mary Lennox (The Secret Garden) because I have a tendency to wake up at night to strange noises, which sometimes lead me to get up and wander the house. Also, I love flowers.
• Sarah (Sarah, Plain and Tall) because I love the sea.
• Amelia Bedelia (Amelia Bedelia) because I, too, can make a mean lemon meringue pie.
• Jo March (Little Women) because I am a writer.
• Charlotte (Charlotte's Web) because I am thoughtful, but stern. I definitely know when to put my foot down.
• Ophelia (Hamlet) because my adolescent years were rather difficult. (Though, unlike Ophelia, I survived them.)
• The White Rabbit (Alice's Adventures in Wonderland) because I'm always in a hurry.
• Bronwen Morgan (How Green Was My Valley) because I am gentle and when I know something's right, I stick to it.
• Maddie (The Hundred Dresses) because I sometimes find myself in situations where I know I should stand up for others but am too scared to do so.
• Jenny Pearson (The Trouble with Jenny's Ear) because as a child I was quite prone to ear infections.
• And probably many more, but it's late, and I'm tired, and this list is long enough. Maybe next time I'll list characters that I wish I were more like...

Ack!

Ack! I've been swamped! I'm bored at work for, what, oh...6 months at least, and then suddenly I have piles of work coming out my ears?! It's crazy. So that's why I wasn't here yesterday. And that's also why I may or may not be here for long today...

...Though, I read somewhere that today, August 9th, is Book Lovers Day in some circles. Being a book lover myself, I can't miss this dropped-in-my-lap opportunity to tell you all just what it is I love about books, so if I don't have a chance to tell you later today, I'll be sure to tell you tomorrow...or whenever work stops coming out my ears.

Do you think that if I just crawl into a hole, this work will go away on its own?

Yeah, I didn't think so either. Too bad.

Well, catch you later!

Digital Photography

After much research and waiting for the perfect Incredible Deal, Blake and I purchased a digital camera. It arrived on Saturday and since then we've been taking pictures like crazy. You can view them either by clicking here or by clicking on the "Our Adventures in Pictures" link on the sidebar. We'll post pictures as often as necessary.

Hopefully this camera will serve well the purpose we bought it for: hopefully it will bring our world in far-away Indiana a little closer to all of yours.

Enjoy!

Muncie Rib Fest

If anything, this weekend was a productive one. We spent much of Saturday cleaning our apartment. I cleaned out the refrigerator and freezer, cleaned the bathroom, washed the dishes, swept and mopped the kitchen, bathroom, and entryway floors, did laundry, and went grocery shopping. We also straightened up the living room because after a week of hard-core thesis writing, it looked like an academic tornado had blown threw. We also found time in the evening to develop our skills in amateur digital photography. We didn’t slow down much on Sunday. Besides attending church for all three hours, Blake had meetings from 8:30-11:00, and then again from 3:15 to 6:00 (with church right in the middle, he had a VERY long day). While he was gone, I cooked a delicious (if I do say so myself) dinner, plus baked cookies (a new kind – chewy brownie cookies…they are fully of sweet chocolatey goodness). And then, once Blake got home from his meetings and we had eaten dinner, we headed over to the Paulsen’s house for dessert, stimulating conversations, and viewings of classic Homestarrunner.

It was busy.

But I’ll tell you one thing that we didn’t do this weekend. We didn’t go to Muncie Rib Fest. I don’t feel too bad about it. After going last year, Blake and I mutually decided that we didn’t ever want to go again.

Wait…what was that? You’ve never heard of Muncie Rib Fest? The biggest, tastiest celebration of ribs this side of Indianapolis? Well, I’ll be. I suppose, then, that I should give you the run-down, so you’re in the know next time you find yourself in Muncie on the first weekend in August.

If there’s one thing the good people of Muncie love, it’s ribs. They love them so much, in fact, that they devote a whole weekend to them every August. They close off several streets downtown to drivers and open them up to rib vendors and hungry pedestrians. Oh, and bands, too. Usually country and blues music, but I believe that Sunday is dedicated to gospel music.

This was the big event going on our first weekend in Muncie last year. We had been told that it was free, so we went. But it wasn’t free. Granted, it only cost $2 each to get in, but that was already more than we job-less graduate students wanted to spend. Well, we figured, at least they’d have some free rib samples. But they didn’t even have those. We ended up buying the cheapest bite of ribs we could find in order to call the experience complete. It was crowded and hot, but when you got past the incessant aroma of cigarette smoke, the cooking ribs smelled pretty good. We spent a little while listening to the local bands play their local country music, and after about an hour called it good and went home, vowing never to go to Rib Fest again.

And so we didn't go to Rib Fest this weekend.

The end.

I Married a Philosopher...

...And this is how I know:

Standard Philosophical Works
He owns a lot of philosophy books. And we’re not just talking your standard Plato and Aristotle, though he does have a nicely bound “complete works” for each of them. We’re talking also your Husserl, Wittgenstein, Augustine, Heidegger, etc, etc.

Treatises
He writes philosophical treatises, such as this one, which he posted above the kitchen sink for his roommates back when he was single:

A Treatise on Human Nature in Accordance to Dish Washing: (Tractuctus Humos-Naturus Dishus-Washiungus)

• There are dishes and when dishes become dirty they have need to be clean.
• Man is the cause of dirty dishes.
• Time is constant and never returns, within the realm of time we attempt to complete and do the most that is possible, but often by nature leave a mess by negligence and thinking that in a future moment in time we will accomplish that which should have been done in past-time (procrastination).
• If we confuse time, we ourselves become confused and escape the laws of social contract and take another’s freedom and time, by that they must clean up another’s past negligence and their time itself becomes confused.
• This is wrong.
• Therefore, we must do all things in an order and not equivocate time.
• Cooking comes first, then to eat, and then to wash the dish; after that all else that then must be done in our own particulars.
• To Cook, to Eat, to Wash are one, and indistinguishable they cannot be separate for to take one from another is not complete and then lives and time become fragmented and chaotic.
• Therefore, Clean, Wash, Eliminate Filth, Fancy yourself in Dishwashing and do so in all diligence and graciousness of time.
• That you and all may be free, and that your meal times and moments will be complete and in order.

Philosophy in All Things
He manages (quite well) to find the philosophical root in all things. For example, the first thing he turns to when writing psychology paper is to turn to the writings of the philosophers. This method also seems to work well when preparing a talk or lesson for church.

Hair
Like all true philosophers, Blake’s hair is messy. And it’s mostly messy because he plays with it, especially while he’s thinking. You can often decipher how hard he’s been thinking by how messy his hair is.

Fallacies
He can find a fallacy in anything. Show him a commercial and he’ll find – and name! – the fallacy. In his eyes, the world and all the arguments of its citizens, is riddled with fallacies. His own arguments, however, are devoid of fallacies.

Logic
He has turned the science of logic into an art. Every argument he presents is structured precisely and is logically sound. He is therefore always right. (Sometimes, though, it doesn’t matter if logically he is correct because sometimes a wife just has to bring in another view and put her foot down.)

Fish
He names our fish after philosophers. Our first fish was named Edmund, after Edmund Husserl. Our present fish is named Friedrich Über-fish, after Nietzsche and his Über-man theory.

Vocabulary
His vocabulary largely consists of words such as theories, mind, existence, and truth.

Therefore...my husband is a philosopher.

(I realize that my argument may not be structured logically, but this is my point of view and I'm putting my foot down.)

The Business Trip That Might Have Been

I might have been on a business trip today.

I was supposed to drive to the tiny town of Reynolds, Indiana to hand-deliver some important project proposals. But it was unanimously decided that overnight mail would have been an equally effective means of delivery. Which I suppose is just as well…I wasn’t particularly thrilled to be in the car for 5ish hours by myself today. Still, though, it would have been my first business trip ever, and I’m a little sad to be missing it. So today I’m going to tell what I think it would have been like.

If I went on this business trip, I would have come to work this morning with the intention of picking up the proposals, which I would then take with me to the university vehicle rental place. I would hand in my filled-out paperwork, and in return I would have been given a white Ball State car to drive for the day. Maybe it would have even been a hybrid because rumor has it that they have a few of those.

I would have then driven south on I-69 to the north side of the I-465 loop which circles Indianapolis. I would have taken the exit for I-65 going north towards Chicago. This seems on first glance like an unnecessarily long route, what with the going an hour south, 20 minutes west, then 1.5 hours north. Why not just go straight across? Well, because there really is no straight across…just a bazillion farm roads. So despite its out-of-the-way-ness, the freeway route is the fastest.

From I-65 I would have taken the exit for Indiana State Road 43, and I would have driven through West Lafayette and hopefully would not be looked down upon in my Ball State car by Purdue students. A few more little towns to pass through to the north, and then I’d be in Reynolds.

Reynolds only has a population of a little over 500 people, and consequently, its Town Hall is not always staffed from 8-5. This might have led to some problems as it would have been to a person in Town Hall that I would have delivered the proposals to. There might have been a little bit of trouble tracking down the right people, and I might have had to search for a pay phone seeing as I’m old-fashioned and cell-phone-less. Then again, I might not have had any trouble at all. Either way, the proposals would have been delivered before I turned back towards Muncie because I’m not the sort of person who drives 2.5 hours to hand-deliver something only to not hand-deliver it. That would be silly.

Then I would have driven home. I might have treated myself a lunch out, but nothing too exciting. The drive home would have been a repeat of the drive there: I would have passed fields of corn 8 to 10 feet high. And at each one I passed, I would have marveled at how freakishly fast corn grows. I would have crossed my fingers as I approached Indianapolis because the last thing I’d want get stuck in is rush hour or accident traffic. I’d probably be pretty tired as I neared Muncie and I would be getting quite anxious to get out of this stupid rental car, hybrid or no. And then I would have gone back to the office, where I’d probably still have a few more hours to work, but it would be hard to push myself through those hours because, well, I would have just returned from a business trip, for goodness sake!

Special Collections

Do you collect things? I collect things. Throughout the years, I’ve had a variety of different collections. Here is a sampling:

Ginny Dolls
For a few years when I was younger, I received a new Ginny doll from my mom on each birthday and from Santa each Christmas. My collection grew until I had 6 dolls. They were beautiful, about 8” high and made of plastic (think Madame Alexander, only more approachable). They had pale serene faces with blossomy cheeks and small almost puckered red or pink lips. Also, they were endowed with long eyelashes and eyes that opened and closed. And of course they had beautiful hair, sometimes curly and sometimes straight which I would sometimes style. Each doll came with one outfit and the necessary accessories (hat, purse, jacket, tiny shoes, etc), as well as a doll stand. I kept them neatly arranged on a shelf of their own above my desk. Sometimes, when I played with them, I would have the dolls “borrow” clothes from each other and I’d switch their outfits around. This became an even more fun occupation when I received a few extra outfits one year. And you’d better believe that all of my dolls lived dramatic, yet dainty lives, and that most of them were orphans.

Classic Winnie-the-Pooh
My mom was the genius behind this collection. Once the Ginny doll phase was over, and Classic Pooh paraphernalia was discovered, my mom went about purchasing various Classic Pooh items with the intent, I believe, to stock the nursery for a future grandchild. The collection is pretty decently sized and has everything from bean bag dolls and figurines of various sizes and mediums to a music box and picture frame. And rest assured that it is all very cute.

Pen Pals and Letters from Them
I started collecting letters and pen pals the summer after kindergarten, when my best friend, Sarah, moved to New Jersey. In fact, a majority of the letters I received in my youngest years were from friends who had moved away. But not all of my pen pals were collected in that manner. Some I got by way of class projects, and one I got through the marriage of an uncle. Partly because I love letters, and partly because I love my friends, I have continued to stay in touch with a large portion of my original pen pals, as well as with other friends from high school and college who now, because we’re all off doing exciting things in exotic locations, live far away. Over the years I’ve had pen pals in a variety of states and a sprinkling of different countries. My collection of letters is vast and my email archives are growing (I have to say that, though I love email now, it was hard for me to jump on that bandwagon. It’s still sad for me to think that true, old-fashioned letters are quickly becoming extinct. So every once in a while I find myself sending a real letter while envisioning myself the snail-mail equivalent of an activist tree-hugger). So yeah, letters…they’re cool.

Erasers
Erasers, on the other hand, might not be quite so cool. But I have many of them, and I worked hard to gather more, so I must count them as a collection. Lest you think I have an unusually large assortment of Pink Pearl school erasers, let me tell you about my collection. My erasers are all three dimensional. Most of them are in the shape of human-like animals doing human activities (such as a golfing elephant). Some of them, though, are in the shape of cars, one is in the shape of a crayon, and one is a green eraser version of the Statue of Liberty. Some are meant to go on your pencils, and some are not, and they are in a wide variety of different colors. How did I happen upon such a bizarre collection? And what did I have to do to gather more? Simply put, I had to brush my teeth. See, our dentist had a Treasure Chest full of cheap toys like rubber bouncy balls, plastic kazoos, and erasers. Every visit successfully completed with no cavities was rewarded with a prize from the Treasure Chest. I had no cavities growing up, and at almost every 6 month visit I chose an eraser (with the occasional pick of a bouncy ball so as to keep up with my bouncy-ball loving classmates at recess), so you can imagine how large my eraser collection is. Sadly, though, it has stopped growing, and the pencil box they are in is packed away in a box in my parent’s basement.

Books
Those of you who know me know that I love books. You also know that I own many, many books. I didn’t always though. This collection started during my senior year of high school when I got a job in the book department at Media Play. See, at Media Play, they give great employee discounts. Great as in 40% off books. And so I started, as any good employee would, circulating my paycheck money back through the Media Play establishment. I bought lots of books (because who wouldn’t with a discount like that?), and through that job I realized that not only libraries, but bookstores were at my disposal. The creation of amazon.com didn’t help curb the growth of my book collection; neither did getting married (in fact, by getting married, my – or I guess I should say our – collection doubled in size!). College also didn’t help because some textbooks I just couldn’t bear to have to part with and so I didn’t sell them back. And so now I have books coming out my ears. But I’m here to report that moving all of your books from one part of the country to another helps convince a person to stop buying so many books.

Antique Canning Jars
This collection began about a year ago with our move to Glass Canning Jar Country. So far I have three: a blue one quart Ball Ideal jar (the kind that has a glass lid), a clear pint-sized Ball Ideal jar (also with a glass lid), and a two quart Atlas Mason jar (Mason, for those of you unaware, is not a brand name but rather a patent. All jars with screw-top lids must say Mason on them. In this case our jar is Atlas brand with a screw-top lid). I plan to one day line a kitchen window sill or something with a variety of canning jars.

So there you have it: my collections. Take them as you will, but please don’t think any less of me because of them (I’m referring here especially to the, um, erasers).

By the way, what do you collect?

Reflections Upon the Anniversary of Our Arrival

For those of you who could not conclude this from the title, today marks the anniversary of the day we arrived in Indiana. It’s hard to believe that it’s been a year already, but, well, here we are. In celebration of the swift uprooting and the consequential process of transplanting, I will share the following:

Reflections, Meditations, and Things I May or May Not Have Learned the Hard Way On My First Day as a Hoosier:

• Indiana is a very long way from Utah.
• Mapquest does not work so well in Indiana,
• And it’s hard to make u-turns in a U-Haul with a car strapped behind.
• Not all U-Haul’s break down in Middle of Nowhere, Nebraska, even though the check engine light comes on and stays on.
• It is indeed hot and humid in Indiana—
• So hot and humid that not only do your clothes stick to you, and your hair gets matted to your head, but also your shoes start sticking to the asphalt.
• Don Wine is a great name for an apartment complex manager.
• Unlike living in BYU approved housing, in the Real World, you have to sign a lot of papers to rent an apartment.
• Unpacking is a pain,
• Especially when a large percentage of your furniture requires assembly.
• There is only room for a couch in our apartment and sometimes that means sacrificing the loveseat.
• Built-in bookshelves, despite the fact that the shelves in question went out of style in the late 1970s, are still appreciated by those who own many books.
• It’s generally not a good idea to explore a new town in the dark, late at night, after you're done with Phase I of unpacking because odds are high you'll get very, very lost.
• IHOP is a good late night restaurant when you’re a mess from unpacking and have no food in your house.
• You really should just expect to be able to make at least one small world connection with the first people you meet (in this case, the Elders Quorum presidency member who helped us unload the truck was the older brother of my younger brother’s missionary companion).

Reflections, Meditations, and Things I May or May Not Have Learned the Hard Way In My First Year as a Hoosier:

• Ball State is a party school,
• Which may explain the near-riotous student concern over the fact that Muncie liquor stores were no longer going to sell kegs of beer.
• Unlike wards in Utah, wards in Indiana require you to take on 2 to 7 callings.
• The thermostat in our apartment is quirky.
• When it’s all you’ve got, corn in late summer is a great substitute for mountains.
• Indiana wildflowers are pretty and everywhere.
• We have seen more varieties of wildlife in our yard and neighborhood here in one year than I think I ever saw in Utah in 23 years.
• The blue collar Hoosier life is a very hard one, economically speaking.
• Rural communities in Indiana are quaint, and, it turns out, we both really like this kind of quaint.
• The university is the heart, soul, and lungs of this town now that so many factories have packed up and gone.
• Muncie, Indiana is close to everything. As in, weekend and daytrips are more interesting.
  
• Walmarts are a pain no matter where they are.
• It’s fun to get to know the local culture (like, you know, the Jar Museum)
• Just because Hoosiers love it, it doesn’t mean you will, too.
• And just because Hoosiers love it, it doesn’t mean you won’t.
• Aldi now has a special place in my heart.
• Rummage sales here are often actually worth your time.
  
• Just because a street ends, it doesn’t mean that it won’t pick up again a few blocks later in a slightly shifted location.

I’m sure there’s more I could say about my year-old Hoosier self, but I think this is enough for now. Everyone, feel free to make yourself cupcakes and eat them in honor of this happy day.