that doesn't stop me

Another bit of primary goodness….

Last Sunday I was sitting by the cutest little red-headed sunbeam during singing time. She is probably one of the most obedient and knowledgeable 4-year-olds I have ever met. She knows her stuff. When asked what the angel said to the shepherds she busted out the exact scripture found in the New Testament. What?!

Anyway, the primary chorister decided to have the kids sing “Love One Another”. She prefaced it with something like this, “Now boys and girls, this is an important song because it reminds us that we should be kind to one another and that we should love everyone.”

This little girl looked up at me and in her sweet little voice said (while shaking her head), “That doesn’t stop me.”

I think I laughed out loud.

oh. my. edward.

two words, a name actually: edward cullen

he is the savory to my appetizer, the substance to my entree, and the cream to my dessert. if it wouldn't be the death of me (crazy, insane, delusional death of me), i would feast upon his exquisiteness everyday of my life.

despite being a voracious reader, i tore through the twilight series at inhuman speeds. (how appropriate) i found that with each book, i derived more pleasure and i was more forgiving of the over-the-top cheesiness that seemed to be at the heart of it all. and so when the movie had been green-lighted, my heart danced with joy. dear edward was jumping from the pages of a book to the big screen and i was thrilled.

sadly, the announcement of robert pattinson as edward was disappointing to me. he was not the edward i had imagined in my head. he was not what i had pictured perfection to be. and so i struggled. but with each trailer and with the mounting hype all around me, my heart softened to the idea and i was willing to give him a chance.

and boy was i NOT disappointed. he was perfection.

i mean, how could you not be smitten with someone who is incredibly fast and unbelievably strong, someone who could defend you in every circumstance and situation, someone who is protective and tender, someone who anticipates your every need and has the power and ability to fulfill them. how could you not swoon over someone who is brilliant, cultured, and who has a hundred years of experience being a gentleman? he can dance, play the piano, and from the looks of it, can knock your socks off with his "take me now" kiss. oh, how i wish i was bella. oh, how i wish...

and so, along with thousands of other hopeless females, i will continue to pine and swoon and obsess over yet another fictional character that creates completely unrealistic expectations of men. detrimental to my overall emotional well being? possibly. havoc wrecking to potential future relationships? maybe. am i going to stop? not likely. :)

my kind of Christmas

My friend Janae did this on her blog. As I am also a lover of Christmas, I thought I would fill this out too. :)

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Definitely wrapping paper

2. Real tree or Artificial? Oh, how I love real. Unfortunately, my family hasn't had a real tree for years and years. I understand that though. It gets expensive. But my heart would still love a real one.

3. When do you put up the tree? It changes every year and honestly, I don't have any control over that right now. When I have my own family I will probably put it up after Thanksgiving.

4. Do you like eggnog? Nope. I never have.

5. Favorite gift received as a child? I have loved loved every single thing I have received.

6. Easiest person to buy for? My sister.

7. Do you have a nativity scene ? Yes. I love nativity scenes. Our family has always had them as my dad used to make them. I have one that my dad made for me and I also have one that he and I made together. Those are priceless to me now that he is gone.

8. Mail or email Christmas cards ? Mail, but I have been so bad about it this year. Time ran away with me.

9. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? Oh, I can't think of anything really.

10. Favorite Christmas Movie? Tough one! There are so many. I love Elf though.

11. When do you start shopping for Christmas ? I would love to be done before December. It's never happened though. Occasionally, I will get started in November though.

12. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Whoops? :)

13. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? I can't pick just one. But I like to go back between sweet and salty.

14. Lights on the tree? YEAH!

15. Favorite Christmas song ? Silent Night (MoTab rendition--makes me cry EVERY single time), Away in a Manger, Hark the Herald Angels Sing, O Come All Ye Faithful, O Holy Night, The First Noel, Joy to the World (did you know that it was originally written for Easter time?), etc. Basically, I love the ones in the hymn book.

16. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Well, right now I travel to go home. Probably when I have my own family I would like to be in my own home, but I guess that is up for discussion with my honey.

17. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer? Of course.

18. Angel on the tree top or a star? Star

19. Open presents on Christmas eve or morning? One on Christmas Eve...usually pajamas, but sometimes not. We're not so consistent with our traditions. And then the rest Christmas morning.

20. Most annoying thing about this time of the year? Shopping on a limited budget with limited time with too many people in terrible traffic.

21. Favorite ornament theme or color? I like having an eclectic tree. I have started a tradition over the last 6 years though, of buying everyone in my family a new ornament each year. Kind of fun.

22. Favorite for Christmas dinner ? Turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberries, some sort of steamed veggies, rolls, etc. And each year, depending on my mood and what recipe I have found online, we'll make something different.

bless that we don't say, "whatever"

My sister and brother-in-law teach the Sunbeams (the 4-year-olds) at church. Her husband was out of town so she asked me to come and help out. I forget how fun primary is. The kids are so wiggly and they say the funniest things. After a labored and much interrupted lesson on the birth of the Savior and the passing out of candy canes (which looks like a shepherd's staff in the picture), we asked one little boy to give the closing prayer:

(over in the corner) "Thankful that we can open the candy canes. (walked over to my sister who was holding the picture of the shepherds) Thankful that the candy canes look like this. (held up the candy cane to the staff in the picture). (walked back over to me) Bless that we don't say whatever. Bless that we can open these candy canes.
Bless that we be good."

Primary is the best!

i don't really stalk you...

The other day I saw a couple whose blog I check out every now and again. I knew them from church before they were married and they are seriously, a really fun couple. In my pitiful attempt to express my admiration (in a very hurried second) I blurted out, "I kind of stalk you on your blog. I love it. You're just so…" And for some random reason I trailed off. Their bewildered faces should have sent a signal to my brain that I need to provide more of an explanation or perhaps that I should have said hello first. Instead, I continued, "Well, I gotta go" and I left them where I found them. As I walked away I realized how lame I must have seemed. I was torn between taking my seat (the meeting was about to start) and running back to try again. What I had meant to say was, "Hey. I saw your blog the other day and I think you're the most adorable couple, you have fabulous taste, and you write great posts." But no, I told them that I stalk them and so they probably believe me.

I wonder if they have since privatized their blog...

solution to every woman's problem

So I was checking my email the other day and there it was…in all its glory…the purported solution to every woman’s problem! Apparently Sephora (a cosmetics store/chain) had figured out a universal method to solve this age-old mystery. What is it, you ask?

Gifts, of course!

Sephora along with every other retail store in the world would like you to believe that our problems can be solved by a little swipe of a card or a little flash of the cash. And the sad part is that some of us believe it. While I understand the cleverness behind the sell and that gadgets and gizmos do bring a certain amount of pleasure, it doesn’t solve problems and it doesn’t bring lasting happiness.

Now I’m not here to point fingers or to place blame. In fact ever since I saw this little email I have had a hankering to visit Sephora at Union Square (a quick lunch time walk). I simply thought the subject heading to this morning email was humorous. We have now entered the season of materialism folks. Prepare yourself and don’t get sucked in.

9 to 5

Part of the reason I sought out higher education was so that I could have a regular, 9 to 5 job, fully loaded with benefits, vacation, paid holidays…not to mention it could serve as a vehicle to support my passion for the underserved and underprivileged members of society. The idea of working 5 days a week was also extremely appealing to me. I wanted weekends and I wanted them to be MY weekends. Saturday for errands and play. Sundays for worship and service. Weekends are sacred--especially when workweeks are horrendous.

For the most part, my job is a 10 to 6 type of a deal. I enjoy flexibility, amazing co-workers, and I do have a passion for the work. Working with volunteers is extremely satisfying especially when you can see the impact that they have on the lives of youth and a community. But there are occasions when my department (the Volunteer Department) works very non-traditional hours. We have events, trainings, and programming that all happen “after work” and our presence, in addition to the planning, comes with the territory.

Despite my reluctance to work late on these different occasions, I can usually reframe my thinking in order to produce some sort of positive imagery in my head once everything is said and done. However, this last Saturday was a different story.

I don’t know if it was the combination of a really long week, a few late nights (work related), and the unfinished products piling up on my desk but I was in no mood to be working half a day on Saturday. So imagine my sheer delight to find that not only did I have to work half a day, but also, another half of a day, totaling a full 8 hours. As a result I missed the adult session of stake conference (my favorite part of stake conference weekend) and returned to my apartment in the dark, feeling and looking like a drowned rat. I was exhausted, my night was shot, and I hadn’t gotten a thing done on my hefty to do list.

I’ve been slightly bitter about it for the last few days but as the saying goes, “time heals all wounds.” And so it was with my wounded Saturday heart. But walking home tonight cleared up every last bit of lingering infection. Fatigued once again, I mindlessly made my way along the sidewalk. It was nearing 10:00pm and I noticed a particular group of street vendors. They were a small family, packing up their wares and remnants of the day. Father was working hard to clean out a pan. Mother was taking down one of the mini tables. And their maybe 8-year-old daughter was doing her best to pack up another box of supplies. The box was bigger than she was. It was a school night. Did she have homework? Surely she was tired and yet she was dutifully helping out her hard working family.

Somehow in that moment, my extra eight hours on Saturday didn’t seem as significant as they did before…

scorpio

while i haven't ever really given much credit to signs of the zodiac and their accompanying traits, i've always been strangely proud of the fact that i'm a scorpio. as i just passed yet another birthday, i did a quick online search to see what i could find. even stranger than the fact that i'm proud of being a scorpio, is the fact that the little description i found is shockingly accurate. for the average joe schmoe, you wouldn't necessarily make the connection, but let me assure you, it's true...for the most part. :)


SCORPIO
Beneath a controlled, cool exterior beats the heart of the deeply intense Scorpio. Passionate, penetrating, and determined, this sign will probe until they reach the truth. The Scorpio may not speak volumes or show emotions readily, yet rest assured there's an enormous amount of activity happening beneath the surface. Excellent leaders, Scorpions are always aware. When it comes to resourcefulness, this sign comes out ahead.

Friends and Family
Sincerity and truth are strong components of the Scorpio's friends. It can take some time before really close bonds are formed, but once done, the Scorpio will remain dedicated and loyal. Witty and intellectual, they prefer companions who are humorous and easygoing. Full of surprises, this sign will give you the shirt off their backs if that's what you need, yet once they are crossed, there's no turning back. They feel deeply, and once hurt, it can be impossible to turn things around. Commitment to family is strong and consistent with the Scorpio. They are exceptionally helpful in managing affairs, and they are excellent advocates when needed.

Career and Money
I desire is the key phrase for the Scorpio. They are fantastic at managing, solving, or creating. Once the Scorpio sets their sights on a goal, there's no deterring this sign. Tasks that require a scientific, penetrating approach are always best done by Scorpions as they will delve deeply into the materials they have. Their ability to focus coupled with determination makes for strong management skills. They're not ones to worry about making friends on the job scene; rather, they prefer to see the task accomplished well. Respect is an essential aspect of working for this sign. They need to respect their coworkers while also feeling a sense of being respected by others.

Love and Sex
This is the strongest of the sexualities in the Zodiac. Incredibly passionate, the Scorpio takes intimacy seriously. Partners need to be intelligent and honest. Much of the foreplay for this sign happens long before the bedroom through conversation and observation. Once in love, they are devoted and loyal to the death. But relationships can take some time. The Scorpio needs to build trust and respect for a potential mate slowly and thoroughly.

The Perfect GiftThe best gifts for a Scorpio are sentimental choices, clothing (especially something sexy), and non-fiction books.

Likes
Truth, facts, being right, teasing, longtime friends, a grand passion, a worthy adversary

Dislikes
Dishonesty, passive people, revealing secrets

Strengths
Passionate, stubborn, resourceful, brave, a true friend

Weaknesses
Jealous, distrusting

october fun

P as in Peeace...

Tired and dead from the day, I let my autopilot navigate as I made my way home. My eyes, in their random wanderings found their way to the edge of the sidewalk where a squatting pup was doing its business and its dutiful owner looked on. Then most abruptly, the dog owner sharply tugged at the puppy’s leash and walked ahead, forcing the poor little thing to stumble as it struggled to keep up. Surely the puppy wasn’t finished and surely the stream of relief didn’t stop as abruptly as was the tug. Was the owner in that much of a hurry to not allow her beloved pet finish? Might she ever link a portion of that well known “dog” smell to events such as this? Perhaps not.

Now I’m not a crazy PETA enthusiast, but come on! How would you like it if you were doing your thing and someone pulled you by the neck while yanking your toilet out from under you? No communication, no forewarning, just “yoink” and then move along! And to add insult to injury, what if this was one of the only two times you were let out of your undersized, cluttered, and lonely apartment today?

So pet owners, this plea goes out to you: Slow it up. Take your time. Let your pet do his business in peace. An extra 5 to 10 minutes isn’t going to kill you. Honestly!

quick fix

I was telling one of my favorite people in the whole wide world (Adam) last night about seeing this fantastic infomercial once (when I had a TV) about an amazing new weight loss product. It was a copper-type bracelet that, if worn at all times, would yield astonishing results. While the key to weight loss was really found in the metallic or magnetic properties of this adornment, they did make sure to stress the importance of a healthy diet and regular exercise. I thought that was nice of them. They realized that being healthy is just as important as being skinny. Too bad the whole world couldn’t afford this magical $20.00 quick fix. It makes me feel bad for all of those people who have to work extra hard (I include myself in this) by eating right and exercising. Sometimes life just isn’t fair.

star struck

So there I was sitting on a bench in Madison Square Park. I was on the phone with my good friend Sarah and we were catching up after a pretty shoddy game of phone tag. A camera crew walked passed me and continued on down the path--quite a common sight in New York City. I readjusted to make myself a little more comfortable and noticed that the camera crew was finally filming. My eyes shifted to the right to see the subject of their focus and there they were…in all their fashionista glory: Clinton Kelly and Stacy London from What Not To Wear. At this point I stopped talking and gasped. I fumbled for words as I stood up to get a better look. I finally managed to sputter a few intelligible sentences so that Sarah could understand what was going on. It was especially fitting that I was sharing this moment with her, as she was the one who introduced me to this magnificent show. I hesitantly walked towards them as they shot their second take. I stopped when they did. Then I remembered where I was, what I was doing, who they were….and what I was wearing. I bolted back to the safety of my bench as they casually mingled in their little group.

Now I wasn’t a ball of fashion disaster. I looked just fine. I was wearing black slacks and a jeweled tone blouse—totally appropriate for work and to be seen out in public. One faux pas, however, was my footwear. Not wanting to torture my feet, I always slip out of my heels and into flip-flops or flats when I take my lunch break. Today I was wearing my flip-flops and though black, I didn’t feel that they elongated my already short frame—a little trick of the trade that I was sure Stacy would notice and somehow condemn.

If you aren’t familiar with the show, dear friends, the premise is this: Participants are nominated by well-meaning and loving friends/relatives. Weeks before the episode, secret footage is taken, highlighting their fashion catastrophes. At this point, Clinton and Stacy surprise this person and go on to critique their current style. Though truthful, it can be harsh. The nominated participant has an opportunity to not only learn “what not to wear” but also gets a $5000 shopping spree….IF they agree to trash their entire existing wardrobe. A bonus makeup and hair makeover is also thrown in. In the end this person emerges with a new wardrobe, first hand fashion knowledge from the gurus of style, and a completely new look. It’s a dream.

Back to the bench…I continued to sit and watch as they were smiling and laughing and being their beautiful selves. And then my heart stopped…they turned the corner and started to walk down the path right in front of me. I couldn’t pull my eyes away and I felt myself smiling like a fool. My eyes darted from Clinton to Stacy and then back to Clinton. He was positively dreamy. As they approached, Clinton looked at me and began to grin. That grin turned into a full on smile. I was in love. He was absolutely adorable. Surely he saw the obsession behind my eyes but it didn’t phase him one bit. I was grateful that he was so gracious. I continued to stare as they walked down the path and then out of sight. Oh, how I love living in New York City.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JAMES!!!

(We like to do a lot of posing when there are cameras just lying around.)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BROTHER!!!!


So my family has a lot of Fall birthdays. It makes things a little tighter in the wallet area during this time of year, but that's all right. We wouldn't have it any other way. Although, when Kathleen was born, my mom told him that Kathleen was going to be one of his presents. He thought about it for a minute and then told her that he would rather have a truck. Funny story for a funny brother.


I admire James for a lot of reasons. In many ways, he is the kind of person that I am striving to become. He has innate qualities that some people work their whole lives to achieve. James is the peacemaker of the family. He is tolerant and kind. He is always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt and forgives just as easily as he breathes.



(James came to visit me in NYC...just him. It was such a fun trip. We had a helluva fun time running around the city together.)

He is also amazingly talented. Anything he attempts he is great at. He plays the uke, sings, is an amazing Poly dancer. He is an unbelievable artist. I am amazed at what he can do in every medium. And his creativity blows my mind.

James also has one of the biggest hearts I know. He is generous beyond words. He cares deeply for his family and his friends. Once you are in with him, you are in with him for life.


Anyway, James, happy birthday! I love you, brother! I am so glad that you are a part of my life!




(Sadly, James came during the writer's strike. We had tickets for David Letterman but the show was cancelled. Danged writer's strike!)

happy birthday, kathleen!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KATHLEEN!!!!

No one in my family really reads my blog....well, my extended family does, but not my immediate. But I just wanted to post a little something about my little sister. It's amazing to me how much love can exist within a family unit. There are times when you absolutely hate each other, times when you are so annoyed that you need to run out of the room so that you can start to breath again, times when you disagree so vehemently with a decision that they are making that you nearly bite your tongue off in order to keep the peace, and times when you just need your own space. But when all is said and done, there is nothing more important than family.

Though six years younger than me, Kathleen is one of my best friends. There are maybe 2 or 3 people that know me as well as Kathleen does, only a handful of people that will ever really see all sides of me. There is something so liberating about unconditional love.

10 Things I like about Kat:

1. She is a beautiful, Polynesian dancer. She has got skills!
2. She makes me laugh harder than almost anyone I know. We can be totally silly together.
3. She feels things as deeply as I do. We both cry at the same things.
4. She is a good wife and takes that responsibility seriously.
5. She has a passion for family history.
6. She takes care of Mom. It is effortless for her and she loves it.
7. She does things even when they are hard for her.
8. She makes weird faces and sounds.
9. She looks great in hoop/dangly earrings.
10. She is one of the most supportive people I know.

Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Kat! Hope the day is smashing! I love you forever and ever!


Our "whale of a watermelon salad". We made this as part of our cooking show "Fighting in the Kitchen".


We thought we were so funny posing with a vase with Poly flowers.



Waiting for the midnight showing of "The Dark Knight" on opening night.

M's Dilem

In a small effort to save money, I usually try to bring my lunch to work and I always eat breakfast at home. However, just recently, there was a two week period when the decision was to either make my lunch or to eat breakfast. Had I woken up the first time my alarm went off, the problem would have been solved, but nope, I love that snooze function. So I made my lunch and would leave on an empty stomach.

One block away from the office is a little cafe/market called Emma's Dilemma. They make yummy little breakfast sandwiches any way you like them. Nearly every morning I would order the same thing....whole wheat bagel, toasted, lightly buttered, turkey, eggs. I would also buy a quart of milk that would last me 2 to 3 days. Pretty simple, but heaven to my morning taste buds. I went in so frequently that the people would say, "See you tomorrow." And the best part about it was that it was only $2.50. I could afford $2.50.

As time went by, I noticed that the man helping me was getting more and more friendly, dare I say, even bold. He would tell me that I was beautiful or that he liked me and I would just laugh it off and walk to the other end of the cafe "to get something else" and would come back when I knew that the breakfast delight was done. Don't get me wrong, I was polite, but I didn't like him staring me down all the time. It was uncomfortable, at best.

A day or two later I entered Emma's for my same morning ritual. I placed my order with Mr. Creepy man. He again told me how much he liked me and then for the first time ever, he made kissing noises in the air.

Sick.

I immediately went to the other end of the store as usual. I came back and saw that another man was wrapping up my sandwich and that he was pricing it today. I got it back and it said $3.50. Now my order has been the same for 2 weeks and so has the price. At first I thought it was a mistake, but then it hit me. My little stalker friend had been giving me a one dollar discount for the past two weeks. I paid the $3.50 and hightailed it out of there.

Walking to work I weighed the options. Save a dollar and be creeped out or wake up 15 minutes earlier/starve (if the snooze alarm continued to tempt me). For a few moments, it really was a dilemma. I was tempted to take advantage of the savings and just continue on my merry way. But I decided that I couldn't. Since that kissy face day I haven't been to Emma's. My mind is at ease...and honestly, my wallet feels a little better too.

haven schmaven

I just decided that I am really not equipped to live alone. It’s not that I don’t have everything I need to be self-sufficient…nor does it mean I don’t enjoy the alone time, the flexibility, the absolute freedom that comes with living by yourself. It’s just that I’m a bit of a fraidey cat. Perhaps if I lived in a better building, I would be singing a different tune right now, but honestly, folks, sometimes I just get scared.

Granted, my overactive imagination does nothing to help me with this problem. I am the queen of worst-case scenarios. Just now someone rang my doorbell and my mind began to race. A normal person, when they get a knock on their door, would think, “Hey! Someone is coming to visit me!” They would jump up from what they were doing, check the peephole, and would then answer the door. If you were me, however, you would freeze in your tracks and as quietly as humanly possible retreat to the bedroom, the farthest place from the door. Also, you would start to think of exit strategies, fighting tactics, whether or not you could actually use a knife to defend yourself, and what you would say to the emergency dispatch should the situation necessitate a 911 call.

And so with that unexpected ring of my doorbell, I did just that. I tiptoed to the bedroom. I debated whether or not I should put some clothes on (I was just about to work out) and decided that I should put my sneakers on just in case. Then I sat down and pulled out my phone. Much to my dismay, my phone was “searching” for a signal. How terribly inconvenient. If I needed to make that emergency phone call, there was no way that I could because my “now more coverage than ever” T-Mobile phone plan wasn’t picking up a signal. Should I die, T-Mobile would be partially responsible.

Just to finish out the story, I didn’t die. I was even able to exercise and cook dinner in peace. I am pretty sure that I will even be able to fall asleep and stay asleep unless someone visits me again at 2:30 in the morning. (Yes, that happened last week.) So much for my home being a complete haven from the world. But here’s to hoping it will be.

(P.S. If you are wondering why I am so paranoid, just come for a little visit. But before you come, call me so that I know you are coming…otherwise I probably won’t answer the door.)

very, very, very drunk

The other day I walked into my ridiculously upscale apartment building. An older gentleman swaggered over to me…

"You are so beautiful….and I'm drunk…very, very, very drunk."

Yeah, so that didn't do much for me. I don't think a plastered man giving you a compliment will ever do much of anything.

beef vs. pork

The other day I was on the train and overheard the following snippet between 2 twenty-somethings….

Girl A: Is beef pork?

Girl B: Beef is cow.

Girl A: Oh…

If this doesn't scream "education IS important!" I don't know what does…

love you, dad...

Dad, I miss you and love you...until we meet again....

mourn with those that mourn

On July 23rd, it will be 8 years since my father passed away. It seems like such a long time and yet if I step back and look at things from an eternal perspective, it is just a drop in the bucket. Nevertheless, it still feels like we have been missing him forever.

Now many people have been instrumental in helping me heal and to mourn. Countless friends, family members, and random people that I don't even know have touched me as they have helped me and my family--whether it was offering up a story about my dad, helping my mom with things at home, spending time with me, remembering anniversaries, or by simply saying, "I'm sorry." All of it has meant the world to me.

Two friends, in particular come to mind when I think of the phrase "mourn with those that mourn". And by singling these two people out, I don't mean to minimize the efforts of anyone else. These two people have just been on my mind recently--Rachel Galbraith and Karston Carr.



Rachel and I had gone to High School together. I was really first introduced to her through Seminary Council our Senior Year. Then we had some classes together in college and eventually ended up working at the same photography studio. The day after my father passed away, sweet Rachel called me on the phone. She managed to utter the words, albeit in a choked whisper, "I'm so sorry" before she began to sob. I was surprised and touched to be privy to such empathy. I had the sense that she knew a little more than others what it is like to lose a parent and because of that I felt very connected to her. She was a great support to me during that time and I will always be grateful. But more than anything, I will never forget that phone call when we just sat on the phone and cried. Truly she knew how to "mourn with those that mourn." Love you, Rach...



I have known Karston for years...since the 4th grade to be exact. He has been one of my best friends and I adore him because of who he is and how he has been a part of so many important events in my life. (I'm sorry to say that we haven't been so great about keeping in touch as of late, but he is a busy man with a wife, family, and medical school.) The very day my father passed away, Karston came to visit me. I remember opening the door and seeing him on the doorstep. His eyes were red and his actions were a bit tentative--because after all, what do you say to a friend who has just lost her parent? And yet he was there--ready and willing to do whatever needed to be done to make me feel better, to show his support and love. And I felt that love. Over the course of the following days, weeks, and months, Karston continued to be a solid presence in my life--not always knowing what to say, but always being there when I needed. Love you too, Karston...in a COMPLETELY friend-type of way. :)

Thank you to both of you and to all the many people who have made a difference in my life. I love you and will never forget you...

i heart bobby flay

I don't know why. I can't explain it. But I have the biggest crush on Bobby Flay. And every time I watch the Food Network, the beating of my heart confirms that it is true. I love Bobby Flay. Perhaps it's because he rocks at a Throwdown--slaughtering the competition or being a gracious a second runner-up. Maybe it's because his critiquings of The Next Food Network Stars are spot on. Or maybe it is because he is America's Iron Chef and can whip up masterpiece after masterpiece in only 60 minutes. I don't know! Maybe a man that can grill like that is just automatically sexy. Who knows. All I know is that I have a mad crush on him. So here's to you, Bobby Flay!

wear a bra already!

I don't care how flat you are. I don't care how hot it is outside. Always, always, always wear a bra. Period!

E-Town Boyz Lipsink the Hits

This is one of my new favorite videos. Perhaps it is because I know these guys and think they are wonderful. But despite that little fact, I think this video stands alone as one of the most amazing things ever created. I think it is so hilarious and wish they would make more of these. Totally makes me laugh. Yay Jeff and Darren!

kidnapping is NOT a joke

Another random cab experience: The other night I was late getting to a friend’s house so I jumped in a cab. My cabbie was friendly…a little too friendly if you ask me, but I was already in and it wasn’t too far. We talked fluff—the weather, his job, my job—then things got a little personal. He went on and on about how he wanted to take me out and how beautiful he thought I was. Talk about uncomfortable. After a few minutes of that I decided to make up a boyfriend.

“Yeah, I have a boyfriend and I don’t think that he would appreciate me going out with other men.”

Do you think that deterred him though? Not in the least. “Are you engaged?” “No.” “Do you live together?” “No.” “Do you have kids with him?” “No.” (I should have been a better liar but I think I was thinking it could turn into a missionary opportunity.)

“Well then, we can still go out.” “No, we can’t.”

Silence. I felt a little bad that I was so firm with him until he broke that silence with the following:

“I think I’m going to kidnap you.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I think I want to kidnap you and make you go out with me.”

“heh...heh...heh. You’re funny.”

“No, I’m serious. I want to kidnap you.”

At this point I started to get a little nervous and wondered if I should just jump out the next time he pulled up to a light. I grabbed my packages and put them on my lap—just in case—and just tried to downplay his little comment. No such luck though. We kept hitting greens. Finally we came to a light and I told him he could just let me out on the corner.

“No, no! I will take you to the door. And you can’t leave until you give me your number.”

I pulled out my normal excuses and finally got him to just give me his number instead. I entered it into my phone so he would leave me alone and deleted it as soon as I got out of the cab. I’m sure the kidnapping thing was totally a joke, but just for the record, you don’t joke about stuff like that! There are too many crazies out there that really do stuff like that.

i can hear the bells...i mean, i did eat the bells...

So just recently I was perusing some photos from my sister’s recent wedding and I was reminded of a recent Google search. While searching online for random things that would add to my sister’s wedding, the term “wedding bells” popped up a few times. Immediately my mind took me back to a place when I was much younger, maybe 10 or 11. In my mind’s eye, I can see myself downstairs in my mom’s “school room”, cross-legged on the floor. For some reason, the picture is slightly hazy and tinted blue.

I remember finding on the very bottom shelf, nestled in a corner, a special looking box that was labeled “wedding cake bells”. Curiosity got the best of me and of course I opened it. Much to my surprise and delight, I found baby blue sugar bells with delicate silver detailing. There were slightly less than a dozen and for the most part, they were completely intact. I picked one up and could sense the history and sentimental value even at that young age. As I was carefully replacing the bell, I noticed that a few of them were completely broken and that a few others were chipped. I wondered what they tasted like. Rationalization, at its best, took the stage as I decided that eating a broken bell wouldn’t hurt anyone. It was nasty and stale….but it was also sugar and colored blue. I nibbled on another one.

Over the course of the next few months, I would occasionally make my way downstairs to visit this special box. I don’t remember now, how many I destroyed, nor how many times I fought off the guilt, but I did it one too many times and kind of still feel bad about it. Maybe I should tell my mom. Anyway, at least my sister won’t have this same problem ten years down the line. She used flowers.

Don't think for a moment that just because it's April it was uneventful

Staten Island Ferry Adventure

what about my bag?

So the other day I had to pick up a few groceries. I walked in right behind a man who appeared to be in his 20's and I'm guessing that he was of African decent. The security at the door made him check his bag. The young man actually offered it up as if he knew the drill and then went on his way. It was my turn now and I offered my bags (I had multiple). He waved me on and shook his head. I didn't need to check mine. At first I was relieved because honestly, I don't trust anyone and it takes extra time. But as I made my way to the dairy section I grew increasingly unsettled. This wasn't the first time that I didn't have to check my bags. It wasn't the first time that security had waved me through without a second glance. And it wasn't the first time that I had seen racially diverse men get profiled in such a way. Why don't all customers get the same treatment? Don't I look threatening enough? Before my brain could really even formulate a response to my rambling thoughts, I was out of the store and headed home. But since then, this situation has popped into my head more than once. I offer no explanation or opinion (although you might already have an idea), I just wanted to write a little diddy about it and post it for all the world to see. Yes we are blessed with freedoms, but not all of us experience them in the same way. Something to think about...

anything for my people

The other night I had stayed out pretty late and decided that I didn’t want to mess with the late night subway schedule. So I crossed the street and tried to look for an open cab. Cab after cab with lights alighted passed me….but no such luck. I couldn’t find a single cab that said, “off duty”. Suddenly, I remembered that “off duty” actually meant “off duty” and that they wouldn’t pick me up no matter how high I raised my hand. Instead, I should have been hailing those clusters of cabs that had passed me a few minutes ago--all of which were available. Once the midnight fog lifted from my brain, I found one, signaled the direction I was traveling, and hopped in.

My cabbie, a friendly fellow, told me that he was going in the opposite direction but because I was a Latina he would take me home. “Anything for my people,” he said. The truth of the matter is, I am not Latina. I am Polynesian--specifically Hawaiian. I know that we are somewhat of a rare specimen out here so there is often confusion as they have never seen one before. (And I will just try to ignore the fact that it was dark and he was on the other side of the street when he saw me. How could he have even seen me well enough to assume I was a Latina anyway?….Weird.) Anyway, I was about to tell him that I was actually Hawaiian but didn’t have an opportunity because he kept going on an on about his pride in “his people”. I smiled and nodded politely, and decided that I would play the role so he wouldn’t feel stupid. I then silently prayed that he wouldn’t bust out the Spanish. (Por favor y gracias) I mean, could I really claim to be a Latina and not speak Spanish? Yes, I could but then how could I explain that? My mind raced as I formulated my elaborate story which was turning into a really convoluted lie. I didn’t want to lie but I might have to. Much to my relief, he was a speedy driver and we arrived a mi casa muy pronto. Que bien! No lie necessary…well, no spoken lie necessary.

oh, oh, oh, oh, oh....the right stuff?

The boy band industry has hit an all time low. I know, I know, for some of you the mere existence of a boy band is considered an all time low, but for those who love them (such as myself), we are usually pretty forgiving. However…

The New Kids on the Block (NKOTB) are reuniting? What the? Are you serious? Aren't these boys like 40-year-old men? Jordan Nathaniel Marcel Knight, lead singer/Taurus, was born in like 1970…in MA. (He was my favorite, ok?) I remember plastering my wall from floor to ceiling with their posters, crying because my little heart was bursting with love as Jordan's shirt blew in the breeze at my first concert. I remember getting into a year-long fight with my cousin, defending their good name. And yes, even screaming and reaching out for Joey as he played a role in Wicked (ok, that wasn't too long ago). What I'm saying is, although "I'll Be Loving [Them] Forever", you've got to know when enough is enough.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cLhSHktuZGw

(But I really will be loving them forever….)

shoe scam

About two weeks ago, my friend Brian came into town for his debut performance at Lincoln Center. He was one of the soloists for The Destruction of Jerusalem, an oratorio by Ferdinand Hiller, played by the American Symphony Orchestra. It was the American debut as well. Kind of a big deal. (Brian did fabulously, by the way. His aria and duet were absolutely beautiful! So proud was I.) Anyway, lucky for me I not only got to see his fabulous performance, but I also got to spend a little time with him. One night we were on our way to dinner and a man stopped us. (We always get approached by someone asking for money when we are together. It happened last time he came here for auditions too.) Anyway, we are not good at saying no and always end up stopping.

This man didn't ask for money outright, however. He wanted to "earn" his keep and tried to engage us in a little game. He told us that he could tell us where we got our shoes...the city, state, zip, etc. If he got it right, we would give him $5, if he got it wrong, he would give us $5. He started to ask us questions about ourselves and then reiterated the original offer. Brian consented and then he started to move in on me. Thank goodness Brian interjected and told him that he should just play this game with him!

In my mind, there was NO WAY that he would be able to guess where Brian got his shoes no matter how many questions he asked. Did he know that Brian and his family travel the world? Did he know that Brian lives on the other side of the country? No. He knew none of this and yet he claimed that he could guess where Brian got his shoes.

The big moment came and we were eagerly waiting his answer. "You wanna know where you GOT those shoes?" he asked. "Look down." And there they were. They were on Brian's feet just where they had always been. And that is how we got scammed by a very clever man on 94th and Broadway.

rush hour

So if you have ever been in rush hour in the city, you will know that it is not a time to play around. No dilly-dallying allowed. You need to know where you are going and you need to get there fast. You are, of course, polite and courteous, but you follow the rules. Yes, they may be unwritten, but they are rules just the same.

Anyway, usually I am really good about navigating my way through masses of rushed and confused people. You just kind of get in the zone. But the other day, something caught my eye and put me into a completely different one.

I was stepping off the train and right there before my eyes was a group of probably 7 or 8 men dressed in beautiful suits. Oh, sorry, did I say beautiful suits? They were beautiful but so were the men in those suits. Or maybe I'm just a sucker for men in suits? Or maybe I'm just a sucker for men. Either way, I was happy to be there in that very moment. Unfortunately for me though, I forgot where I was, where I was going, and that it was rush hour in one of the busiest spots in the city....Times Square. It was a little debilitating, to tell you the truth. I think that I couldn't move for a good 30 seconds or so. I came away feeling confused about my surroundings and a little ashamed that I let something so silly distract me from my normal routine.

What can I say? I just LOVE men!

i've always wanted to be a hacker

So I've always wanted to be a hacker. (Dear FBI: I don't really want to be a hacker. I wish NO harm to anyone or anything. I just wish my brain was sophisticated enough to be able to do something like that.) Why, you might ask? Perhaps it is because I have seem too many movies where those types of skills are the key to a happy ending. The little girl in Jurassic Park was able to lock the doors because she knew a lot about computers. The guy in Die Hard (the last one made) was able to defeat the firewall because he had the smarts...or am I remembering that movie correctly? Anyway, the list could go on and on. I would just love to be able to say that I have the capability of saving some small town or even the nation because of what I can do on the computer. That being said, I don't really know if I am cut out for that line of work.

For the last little while my laptop at home, indeed the very one that I am typing on right now, has had this problem with the screen. For some reason the font is HUGE! I have tried so many times to figure out what is wrong and how to shrink it down to normal. You would think that you would just need to go to View or Edit at the top of the screen and adjust the size there, or that maybe you would go to the control panel and fix it all there. But no. I must have hit something in just the perfect sequence so as to prevent me from returning to normal land. Quite upsetting. I guess I am not cut out to be a master mind in the world of computers.

that's my name, that's my name

I heard this funny story the other night and thought I would pass it along. Now that I think of it, I can’t really remember if it was a true story witnessed by my friend, if the story was simply passed along, or if it was something found in a magazine. To the person that relayed this to me, I’m sorry if I totally mess it up or embellish it with details that didn’t actually happen. J

A mother and daughter were in Macy’s at the makeup counter. The little girl was standing in front of the display cases pointing her little finger at various, items all the while saying, “That’s my name. That’s my name. That’s my name. That’s my name.” Then her mother calls to her, “Clinique (said Clinique-wuh), come on, let’s go!”

End story.

how many times can you cut your hand off, grandma?

Once upon a time (now) I worked with a little girl who is a "story teller". (read: she makes things up all the time. we might have a little problem here in the future.) I don't think that she realizes that she is story teller. I don't know if details are a bit hazy so she has to fill them in or if the stories she is telling me are 100% inaccurate. Either way, she does tell a good story. The other day she was telling me about how her grandmother's hand had been cut off twice...or rather came off twice. The first time her grandmother was just sleeping and then when she woke up, her hand was on the floor. (Now that is one way to prevent a little girl from ever falling asleep again. Just tell her that story.) Anyway, the grandmother was quick enough to think, "I need to sew this back on." So she did and all was well....

...until she accidentally cut it off about a month later! She was just making some dinner one day and then cut her hand right off! To which, this little girl responded, "How many times can you cut your hand off, Grandma?"

The End.

frogger

This morning I played Frogger on the way to work. No, I didn't have a PSP or anything like that. I decided to do it old school. For some reason I thought I could cross a four lane street, even with a green light working against me...during rush hour, mind you. I stood there, unable to move, trying to decide if I should "go for it" or if it would be safer to stay where I was. Luckily, I wasn't being timed so I decided to stay put in the middle of the road and dodged the cars as they drove by at different intervals. People I walk around the city with are always pulling me out of the way as cars whiz by. They keep telling me that I need to be careful. Maybe I should listen.

Needless to say, I did make it to the other side...

maybe i should move

My stairwell....'nuff said.

exceptions to every rule

If any of you know me, you will know that I have an undeniable love for old people. I absolutely adore them--the cute, loving ones and even the grumpy, antisocial ones. I love them all. There is this one little, old lady who attends the ward right before mine. She is the tiniest, little thing you will ever see. She has got to be in her 90's and has as much spunk and dedication as anyone I know. Every Sunday, you will find her standing dutifully at the door handing out the programs. Every time I see her, I want to run up to her and give her a big hug and then be her best friend forever.

As I'm usually a favorite among the elderly, you will understand why one old woman perplexes me so. I work with her--not directly, but I associate with her enough that I have been privy to her elderly "charm". Also a tiny, little, shrinking woman, she appears as if she will break at any moment. But don't let that fool you. While small in stature, her personality is bigger than you could imagine...too big for me, in fact. No matter what I do, I can't seem to get her to "like" me. She doesn't seem to like anyone, really, but that doesn't remove that incessant desire that I have to make her like me. Almost every encounter I have had with her or seen her have with others has been laced with annoyance, grumpiness, and even disdain. On ocassion, it is funny, but as it is consistent, I have categorized it as "just plain mean". And I don't care who you are...mean is never cool.

Case in point: The other day we both happened to be in the restroom at the same time. Granted, the ladies' room is no place for conversation, but it doesn't mean that you have to completely ignore the other person either.

While standing at the sink...

"Good morning, G_____," I said in a cheerful, but not too cheerful voice.

nothing.

"Are you having a good day?" I tried again.

nothing.

I continued in silence then started to dry my hands.

"Alright, well take care," as I was leaving.

still nothing.

Sometimes I fantacize about telling her off and letting her know that I am SO happy that she is retiring this year. In the end, I guess I can no longer claim that I love all old people for that is not true. There are exceptions to every rule, I suppose.

validation please

I just got back from San Francisco. I went there for a work conference (which was fabulous, by the way) and extended my trip through the weekend and into Tuesday of this week to visit with a dear friend (Tami) and her family. The weather was pretty crummy until my last two days which were spent in beautiful Napa and in the actual city. On my last night, we went to Fisherman's Wharf for dinner. I really wanted to pick up some sourdough bread to bring back with me. We headed to Boudin's as they make excellent bread and was actually featured on Food Network (LOVE Food Network!). I purchased my supply and we ended up eating dinner there. Tami had clam chowder and I had the chili. Very good.

We then took our parking ticket to get validated. To our disappointment Boudin's didn't validate. With that, we decided to set out to find a place that did. Parking was $2.00 for every 30 minutes. Highway robbery, I tell ya! We had to find validation! We first stopped at the chocolate store. We made some purchases, and then asked about validation. No such luck. Apparently, only the "fancier" (quotation marks added) restaurants provided such a break. We continued to walk up and down the street to look for places that validated. Our clever idea was to stop at another restaurant and to just order dessert in order to secure validation. The first place we stopped at didn't validate. Lucky for us, we asked before we were seated. We moved on. Finally, we spotted a "fancier" restaurant and walked in.

The view was fantastic. The lighting was dim, atmosphere quiet (save the old timey music in the background--perhaps it was Senior Night?), and we were over the water. It would have been very romantic had I been with a man. (sigh) We asked about validation as we were being seated and thankfully, they did! Yay! But then....we opened the menu.

Of course they validated! Everything was so expensive. We went through several menu options and decided the nicest thing to do would be to order a salad and a dessert to share. Even with that order we were embarrassed. I'm sure the waiter was a little dissapointed...especially when we asked for just water. But we ordered that still the same. The salad was delicious, as was the dessert. Sadly, because we were really full from the last meal we had eaten less than 30 minutes ago, we left much of the salad and even a portion of the dessert still on our plates. But at least we got validated, right?

Well, yes and no.

Our "free parking" ended up costing us $24.00. Had we just paid the dumb parking, we would have only dished out maybe $8.00. It didn't even occur to either one of us that we were taking the more expensive route! It just goes to show that those seeking validation do the weirdest things...

:( to :) in 60 seconds

I had a "disappointed in New Yorkers" moment today. I was on the train tonight, heading home after an extra long day at work. Grateful to be seated, I zoned out until I heard the sound of coins falling to the ground. The spill was followed by a homeless man getting upset and telling another man to pick up his coins. Apparently the man's girlfriend had knocked it out of his hands (no doubt, by accident). The man was getting increasingly aggitated and went on and on about them needing to pick up his coins because they caused him to spill it. I kept waiting for the couple to apologize or to make some sort of an effort to help recover the coins. Nothing. He got progressively louder and threatened to get crazy on all of us. I got a little anxious because I know that most people don't deal with the homeless very well or very nicely. The man and his girlfriend, both dressed in fine coats and suits turned their backs to the man and just shook their heads. We reached the next stop and they actually moved away from the scene of the crime. Still no apology. Still no effort to help. Enter disappointment.

When the couple moved and others emptied from the train, I looked down and saw the floor covered in coins. At the exact same moment, I along with two random men stooped down and started to pick up the coins. Picking up coins from the subway floor with no nails (I just cut them yesterday) is a lot harder than you think. Especially when you are trying to work fast and are hunched over with packages in front of you. But nonetheless, we got the coins picked up and put back into the man's paper cup. Another passenger pulled out a dollar bill and placed it in the cup when we were finished. My heart warmed as I reflected on our joint efforts to help someone out. I was grateful that my "dissapointed in New Yorkers" moment was outshined by a "this is one of the reasons I love New York" moment. To those that helped me pick up those coins...thank you. And to that couple that turned their noses up at "one of the least of these"...shame on you!