A New Discovery

I've recently discovered that my darling, black patent, peep-toe wedges have magical powers. These shoes do so much more than make my feet look absolutely delightful...they are man magnets. No kidding. Apparently, men like the peep toe.

Thanks, mom for talking me into buying the "man magnets."

More Reasons Why I'll End Up in the Land Down Under

And I'm not talking about Australia...

• I like to give people nick names. My latest...Harry and Lloyd. $5 to the first person who can tell me where that comes from. (And Jeremy, you don't count since you already know.)
• At work, we were trying to decide which character different people in our company would be if we were in The Office. I want to be Meredith. I'm not even going to tell you who I think Michael would be.
• The picture on my IM is of Tony Blair. The caption under the picture says, "I'm a rebel."
• I had a Coke slurpee for lunch.
• On the Today show this morning, they showed a clip of Mick Jagger singing outside The Julliard School. Most people would think, "That seems like an odd combination." I thought, "It's about time those snobs heard some real music."
• I spend a majority of my days thinking about where I would like to go on vacation.

A Little Road Trip

Last weekend, I went to St. George. What a wonderful time we had! I can’t remember the last time I was that relaxed. Here are a few pictures from the adventure.

That’s the Jeep with J&A and kids behind us. Wave hello! (I believe I was car dancing to Barry Manilow at this point in time.)

We had to make a stop...

Practicing our self-portrait skills – me and the C Man.

This is when C decided he didn’t want me to take his picture. He said, “Wait. Don’t take a picture.” Turned his head and then announced, “OK, take my picture now.” Such a silly boy.

Mr. Mster wanted to get in on the action. He’s so cute!

Going to eat lunch. Yes, my dad is wearing my snow gloves.

Just chillin’ at the condo.

We got in a snowstorm on the way home. See…

And I saw this truck from North Carolina. We all said at the same time, “Can you imagine how much gas that thing must use?”

Coach’s ear. Because it isn’t a road trip without some crazy picture of Coach

Names I’ve Been Called

I was called all of these names this past week:

Bedouin
Nomad
Gypsy
Pirate

Come on…does this look like the face of a pirate?

Today's Special

My co-workers never watched Today's Special. They must have lived deprived childhoods.

Thanks for the picture, Jeremy!

"Today's Special, come join in the fun..."

Inaudible communication

Have you ever stopped to think how many words are communicated in a sigh?

A Night at the Opera

I went to the opera, “Cinderella,” Saturday night. Oh how I loved it! “Cinderella” was seriously one of the funniest operas I have ever seen. This version of “Cinderella” is a bit different than the traditional Disney version we are all familiar with. The opera was written in the 1800s by two Italian men. The storyline is similar, but the main difference is a step-father instead of a step-mother. The step-father was hilarious! We had so much fun…a beautiful day, a fun opera, and great company!

Act One of the opera finds the step-father speaking to his two daughters. The prince had come just previously and invited the women to his ball. The step-father desperately wanted one of his daughters to marry the prince, so he was giving them some advice. Here’s my favorite line of advice: “Be careful: watch your commas and periods.”

I think this is wonderful advice! Seriously, we all need to know how to speak, read, and write well. I think an important quality to look for in a companion is good grammar. He must know where to place his commas and know the difference between there and their.

Oh, the things we learn at the opera!

I Have A.D.D.

So I have never actually been diagnosed with A.D.D., but I have a habit of self-diagnosing. I like Web MD. I’m convinced I have A.D.D. That’s why I’m so random. Just ask anyone in my family or anyone who’s known me for a few years and they will verify that I’m random. I call it “popcorn brain.” My brother calls it “auto pilot.” And sometimes, my blog suffers from my randomness.

-- I had another crazy dream. No Mormon Tabernacle Choir performances, but I dreamt I broke my finger. And when I woke up, my finger hurt. Wouldn’t a broken finger just be terrible? I mean, think about it, a broken finger would seriously cramp my style.

-- I cannot stand random capitalization.

-- Sometimes I think I’m a 90-year-old lady. You know, I find myself saying things like, “Back when I was a kid.” That’s totally what an old lady says.

-- I don’t like it when Colin teaches the Tuesday spinning class. His music sucks! Give me some Bon Jovi and Pink Floyd if you want me to be motivated during my workout.

-- I’m mad a Super Tuesday. That was nothing but a bunch of hype that really didn’t amount to anything.

-- A couple of weeks ago, my family was playing Catch Phrase. Two funny things happened. #1: It was my turn and I had to get my team to guess flat tire. I said, “You’re driving down the road and all of sudden ssssttttttppppffffzzz (that’s a noise I made). My sister-in-law said, “flat tire.” That’s all it took. Then, my brother was trying to get his team to guess leisure suit. He said, “Cole wears one of these.” And Coach said, “A leisure suit.” So dang funny!

-- I’m afraid of skin cancer. Actually, I’m just plain afraid of cancer. But I really want to go to the tanning salon. My legs are so white that I think I actually glow in the dark!

I'm a Rebel

Sometimes, I’m a rebel. Yes, it’s true. Shocking, isn’t it? But sometimes, I like to be a rebel. Like wearing flip flops during a snow storm. Or when I wear jeans to work in the middle of the week. And sometimes, but very rarely, I take a really long lunch. But don’t worry, I make up the time on other days (OK, so that just totally took away my rebel status). The point is I like to be a rebel.

I think there’s a little bit of rebelishness (totally made up that word) in all of us. And you know what? I think it’s good to celebrate the inner rebel. So the next time you want to eat ice cream for breakfast or blow off work for a drive with the sunroof open…go ahead. It’s time to embrace the rebel in you!

A Little Red Chair

When I was a little girl, I spent a lot of time with my grandma. She was the coolest. One of the things we regularly did with grandma was visit her sister. I loved going to the sister’s house—she always gave me candy (she had a big bowl on her dining room table) and she let me sit in the little red chair. The chair fit me perfectly and was short enough that my legs touched the ground. The back was curved and the chair was covered in red, crushed velvet with a skirt around the bottom. It was a really big deal to me to sit in this chair.

The red chair was in the living room and this is where the adults sat and visited. I always felt included and welcomed in the living room. I preferred being in the living room to playing outside in the grape vines or the barbershop. My brothers usually chose to be outside. I remember watching lots of ice skating sitting in the red chair.

When I was 15, my grandmother passed away. After her death, I didn’t spend nearly as much time at the sister’s house. It wasn’t long after that the sister suffered a stroke. Since the stroke, she hasn’t been the same—dementia and other physical problems—and now lives in a care center. It’s very sad to watch as her mind and body deteriorate, but I know that one day she will be whole and well again.

Last summer, her daughter decided it was time to clean out her mother’s house. My mom asked me one day if there was anything I wanted from the house and the first thing I could think of was the red chair. My mom’s cousin graciously gave me the red chair and it now sits in my music room. I’m much too big for this chair now, but every time I see the chair a flood of memories come rushing back.

I’m trying to decide what to do with the red chair. It does not match the rest of my décor, but the chair is staying in my house. I think I’ll make a little sitting area, with a cute little table, a lamp, and my chair. I can’t think of a better homage to the chair then to keep it in the room where the violin lives. My violin was her father’s. I like to think of my great-grandfather watching over me when I play the violin. And one day, I can picture a glorious reunion with my grandmother, her sister, and their father. Maybe they'll all join me as I play a song and sit in the chair.

Yes, the chair will stay and so will the memories.

I have weird dreams

I’ve had some pretty strange dreams in my life, but the one I had Saturday night pretty much takes the cake (mmmm, cake).

Part 1: I was the accompanist for the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. I can play the piano, a little bit, but I was accompanying on the organ. I told Mack Wilberg that I didn’t know how to play the organ and he said it would be fine and to just start playing. So I did. I must admit, I was pretty good at the organ. I remember playing really, really fast and the Choir did a great job of keeping up with me.

Part 2: I was singing with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in the Conference Center. (The first part of the dream maybe, could have possibly been true since I can play piano, but I cannot sing!) Sitting behind me was my best friend’s mom and we were really high up. I was so nervous because I knew that I was speaking in a few minutes (I think it was General Conference) and I had no idea how I was going to get all the way down to my seat. So before the performance started, I went and put my coat on my chair on the stand. Then I went to sing and when I got back up to the top, someone was sitting in my seat, the very seat I had just put my coat on to "save." Kathy (the lady behind me) told me just to slowly make my way up front. So I was singing, while walking down hundreds of stairs, and got to the stand. Only I didn’t need to worry about the seat, because by the time I got all the way down the stairs, it was my turn to speak.

And that’s where the dream ends. Kind of makes me wonder what I ate before I went to sleep.