oh.......my........OH.......MY.....OH MY!!!!!

There are few times in my life where I can say that I have actually been stopped dead in my tracks, where my breath has caught in my chest and my brain function was impaired for a short moment.  The most recent occasion happened last Friday night (March 11, 2011--gotta remember this date, after all.).

Christian and I had just finished a phenomenal Peruvian dinner at Panca in the West Village.  We had stopped to buy mangoes, poked our heads into a cafe for a kitchen sink cookie at Amy's Bread and then decided to go back to that first market for some pomegranate seeds.  Arm in arm, we walked down the semi-crowded sidewalk.  A trio of men, walking in the opposite direction, approached us.  As they drew closer, my brain registered something incredibly familiar.  I knew that beautiful face, that chiseled jawline, and those piercing blue eyes behind black-framed glasses...

MATTHEW BOMER!!! 

 

Now for those of you who know ANYTHING about me, you would know how much I love this man!  Matthew Bomer plays the sexy conman turned FBI consultant on USA's White Collar.  I fell in love with him the moment he showed up on the screen.  I loved him then.  I love him now.  And I'm pretty sure that I will love him always.  Every time I watch the show, see a commercial or even see an ad on a bus, it feels like he is flashing that come hither smile just for me.   That's some serious star power.

Now, I usually don't get star struck, but I will admit, I was a little with him.  OK, fine.  Maybe I was a little more than just a little star struck.  Maybe I got so excited I almost threw up.  Maybe I made Christian turn around so that we could follow him for a few blocks...OK, more than a few blocks.  :)  Common sense got the best of me, however, and I finally decided to stop the stalking the poor man.  My one regret is that I didn't have any sort of interaction with him.  He was out with friends.  I didn't want to be that annoying fan that never lets a star have a personal life.  So close but so far away!!!  But oh my!  In the words of my mother upon telling her the news, "That must have been thrilling for you."  Yes....yes, it was.

by the sweat of thy brow

The other day in Relief Society (third hour of church for just the women in the congregation that are over 18) our lesson was on Work and Personal Responsibility.  People shared their thoughts on being actively engaged in a career, the sacred work of motherhood, and the importance of work in relation to well being.  Being raised in a family where we were taught to work at a very young age, I admit that I was almost shocked at some of the responses that some of the mothers in the ward (congregation) were giving. 

I remember working at a very young age--pulling weeds in the garden, hauling rocks, mowing the lawn, trimming the hedges.  I remember washing dishes, sweeping floors, cleaning the bathroom, vacuuming the living room, and helping to organize the basement (yes, it was organized at one point).  I remember selling shaved ice in the summer, helping my dad cater luaus, working at the Orem Summer Fest, and practicing the hula so we could perform.  I remember helping with food deliveries, visiting my parents' older friends that didn't get out much, babysitting, babysitting, and more babysitting. 

I learned to work and I worked a lot.  I wasn't asked if I wanted to work.  I wasn't even asked what I wanted to do.  I was told to do it and was expected to do it.  I wasn't left to my own devices either.  Not only was I shown how to get the job done, but also, my parents worked alongside me.  Yes, there was complaining.  Yes, there were times when I HATED my life.  I remember many summer mornings sitting on a pile of lava rocks in the back yard, crying while I had to pull weeds out from among the thorny rose bushes while spiders and other creepy crawly insects brushed against my bare legs.  But it wasn't the end of the world.  I made it through.  And those days of hard work were often rewarded with a fun treat, outing, or even cash. 

Only with age and exposure to other people's growing-up stories, do I realize how lucky I am to have the parents that I do.  They taught me an invaluable principle and work ethic and I will be forever grateful for that. 

Some of the women in Relief Society were wondering how to teach their children the value of work.  They don't want to give their kids too much responsibility because they're kids are "SO BUSY", they don't know how to delegate, they would rather skip the complaining and do it themselves...because after all, it would be faster and the quality would be better.  But honestly?  Is that really how you want to raise your kids?  Do you want to teach them that other people will take care of their messes because of lack of time?  Do you want to send your children off to college without the knowledge of how to do laundry, make a bed, wash dishes, or keep a clean house?  Do you want to teach your kids that they don't have to shoulder any sort of responsibility in a familial setting...just because you don't want to hear them complain?  These types of responses scare me and anger me at the same time.  We wonder why children feel entitled and why there are so many societal problems.  I would venture to say that much of that comes because these younger generations (I sound old now) have not learned the value of work and the tremendous amount of satisfaction that comes from a job well done.  And don't even get me started on the invaluable skills acquired while you work!

I realize that I am not a parent.  My time is my own.  I don't have to maintain a household outside of myself.  I don't have kids that complain, throw tantrums, or make a bigger mess while attempting to help.  But I still maintain that parents have a sacred responsibility to teach this very principle.  And quite honestly?  There are parents who do it...then and now. 

So if your kids start to cry and throw a tantrum....let them cry.  If your kids' lives are too busy with soccer practice, piano lessons, ballet, and any other sort of extracurricular activity, free up an hour or two and drop one of those lessons.  Teaching your children the value of work will have a bigger payoff than a little league trophy.  I guarantee you that. 

End of rant.

brian boyle=love

Just wanted to post a few pictures of my new boyfriend.  Here he is...Brian Boyle of the NY Rangers.

Number: 22

Height: 6' 7"

Weight: 244

Shoots: Left

Born: Dec 18, 1984  (Age 26)

Birthplace: Hingham, MA, United States

According to one round of MASH, Brian and I will marry, honeymoon in New Zealand, have 4 kids, live in a Mansion in New York, and I will spend my days as a chef.  We're very happy.  Thank you, Children's Aid for the free tickets and for introducing me to my new love.

o-oh, livin' on a prayer!

There are quite a few strains of music that make my heart want to leap out of my chest, but even fewer that make me want to leap out of my seat.  On Thursday, February 24th 2011 at MSG, I learned that Bon Jovi's music does both for me.

I've always been a fan of Bon Jovi.  In fact, I remember the exact moment that I first heard his music and fell in love with it.  We were taking an extended family trip down to Mesquite, NV to visit my Aunt Susan and her family that lived down there.  For reasons I cannot remember, I rode with my cousins instead of my family.  The drive was a good 5 or 6 hours back then (read:  parents driving.  no speeding.)  and I recall that Aunt Brenda and Uncle Dan let the kids rotate music.  Greg, one of my older cousins had a Bon Jovi album (I think it was a cassette tape) and my younger cousin Diane, had Paula Abdul's "Forever Your Girl".  For some reason, I only remember those two being played.  But from the first strains of "Livin' On A Prayer" to the last, I knew that my life would never be the same.  (See the video here.)

So on the night of the Bon Jovi concert, when my ears heard the words, "Shot through the heart", my heart kicked me to my feet.  I wanted to scream louder than my body would actually allow me to but I did manage to get out a scream that showcased my approval and excitement. 

Now Bon Jovi puts on a great show.  He is keenly aware of his audience and what they want to hear.  He played for nearly three hours and took a measly five minute break.  And can I just say, that for a rock star who is in his late 40's he was looking really good! :)

My favorite part of the show, however, was his last encore number--"Livin' On A Prayer".  Everyone was on their feet, fist pumping, singing, clapping, and grinning wildly...or maybe that was just me.  It was as if a life long dream had been fulfilled.  For that one moment, I was a part of something universal and the world was a happy place.  Thanks, Tami, for wanting to experience the power of Bon Jovi with me.  It was all I ever hoped for and dreamed of....well, almost.  Had he sung "Always" it would have been perfect perfect as opposed to just perfect.

If interested, you'll find the set list below:

Last Man Standing

You Give Love A Bad Name

Born To Be My Baby

We Weren't Born To Follow

Lost Highway

When We Were Beautiful

It's My Life

Runaway

Superman Tonight

The More Things Change

Bad Medicine/Pretty Woman

Lay Your Hands On Me (Richie vox)

Make A Memory

I'll Be There For You (duet)

Something For The Pain

Someday I'll Be Saturday Night

Who Says You Can't Go Home                                                    

I'll Sleep When I'm Dead/Start Me Up

No Apologies

Have A Nice Day

Keep The Faith

In These Arms

Wanted Dead Or Alive
Livin' On A Prayer

jazzed

My mom is probably one of the biggest Utah Jazz fans I know.  I've always been a lover of basketball but I am almost certain that part of the reason I am so invested in the game...especially in my Utah Jazz...is because of her enthusiasm and yes, undying devotion for the team.

Example 1:  A little while ago, my mom recounted her first experiences with and thoughts on Jon, my sister's husband.  She recalls that he had started to come around quite a bit, that he seemed really nice, was a hard worker, liked the Jazz, and treated my sister well.  I found it hysterical that out of all the qualities that she could have mentioned about a potential son-in-law, one of the qualities that she felt so important to actually mention was his affinity for the Jazz.  So if by some off chance, my future husband is reading this, please note:  Make sure that you like the Jazz...or at least pretend to...or as a last result, at least like basketball.

Example 2:  Living across the country doesn't always allow me to get home as often as I would like.  Thankfully, I am able to go home about two or three times a year.  What I find to be really comical is that despite the distance that I have traveled and despite the limited time I have at home, if there is a Jazz game on, she would really rather just sit and watch that together than go out.  Again, it's a good thing that I like basketball.

Example 3:  For those of you who don't know, my mother is a first grade teacher at Cherry Hill Elementary.  It's the same elementary school that I attended starting in the second grade and is conveniently located about two blocks away from our home.  For the last 13 years the Utah Jazz have been encouraging and supporting literacy among school-aged children through a reading contest named "Be a Team Player--Read".  Cherry Hill Elementary has been participating for the last few years and is one of 58 schools in the state of Utah that decided to participate this year.  The top 10 schools that accumulate the most out-of-school-time minutes reading win an ice cream party and a visit from a Jazz Player.   Two years ago, Cherry Hill ranked among the top schools and happily received a visit from Ronnie Brewer (now with the Bulls).  None of us were there to witness this glorious moment, but a picture of my mother next to Brewer clearly indicated that she was on cloud nine.  I don't know if I've ever seen a bigger smile in one of her pictures.  As mentioned, Cherry Hill participated in the contest during the month of February.  I'm not going to lie, I wanted Cherry Hill to win so badly that I may have prayed for it a couple of times.  Happily, they won and will be rewarded with a visit from a player soon.  We're not sure who it will be now that D-Will has flown the coop (I know, he was traded.), but he will be a Jazz player still the same and I cannot wait to see the new pictures!

Example 4:  My mom and I text every day.  It's usually in the morning or if something really significant happens...or if something happens with the Jazz.  I usually hear about a win or a tough loss.  Needless to say, the day that Jerry Sloan resigned we exchanged quite a few...same with the D. Williams trade.  It was during the D. Williams trade text conversation that I realized how happy I was that this is something that we can share together.  It may sound silly or trite, but it is something that we both love and can talk about.  It's brought us closer and I kind of love that.

My hope is that one day I can take her to a Jazz game...and not just a nose-bleed seat Jazz game, but one that is really close to the court.  I guess I should start saving my nickles, eh?