Knocking His Halo Right Off

Boy and Me.

Happy Halloween!!!

A World in Six Words

When asked to write a full story in six words, legend has it novelist Ernest Hemingway responded: "For Sale: baby shoes, never worn."

Earlier this year, many contributed their own six word stories to a compilation entitled, It All Changed in an Instant.

Many famous names left their six word mark: Gloria Steinem ("Life is one big editorial meeting"), to author Frank McCourt ("The miserable childhood leads to royalties"), to actress Molly Ringwald ("Acting is not all I am").

Now, Hint Fiction shares stories of a slightly longer word count--entire lives wrapped up in twenty-five words or less.

j. j. steinfeld wrote:

"Before their wedding, Gino revealed he was adopted. Eugenia admitted she was adopted too.

"I was a twin, Gino added.

Eugenia said, So was I."

jenn alandy wrote:

"His wife calls while we are in the hotel room. 'Yeah, I'm enjoying my time without the kids,' he says. I stare at my feet."

marcus sakey wrote:

"He held her crepe-paper hand and summoned an autumn day, sepia and smoke, and dancing, and music that sounded nothing like the beeping of machines."

What's your story in twenty-five words or less?

Just Pray

Pray for the people of Indonesia; the volcano erupted again. And while you're at it, pray for the people suffering from cholera in Haiti, and the families of the Mexican massacres, and the families enduring the weather in the Midwest, and the hearts of the government officials both in office and running for office, and all of the people in the Middle East, and those down to their last dollar who don't believe there is anything left to be thankful for this holiday season. Well, it'd probably just be safe to pray for us all at this point.

Snow!!!!

It snowed in the valley last night!!!!

Snow always reminds me of one of my best friends going completely bazurk a few years ago at the sight of the first snowfall of the season. She's from England, where there isn't much snow, if any at all.

Most of my life I've disliked this cold, wet stuff. But I realized I really just didn't like walking through it to school every day.

I'm excited for the winter wonderland this year!

Do you like snow?

where am i going?

I ask myself this question all the time. 

Sometimes I'm referring to tomorrow. Sometimes I'm referring to my emotions. Sometimes I'm referring to the salvation of my soul. 

I've heard it said, the best way of knowing where you are going is to understand where you've come from. Well, maybe that isn't said; maybe I just made it up. I don't remember. But still.

If this were truly helpful, how to I go about understanding yesterday? 

When I was young, maybe somewhere around eight years old, I remember standing in front of a small crowd. I was in a line with other boys and girls around my age, and I had a red balloon tied to my wrist. I watched the air-filled plastic ball float up and down with every slight lift of my wrist. And I waited. Each boy and girl took their turn answering questions about him or herself. I don't remember why, but we just were. One of the questions--the only one I can remember--was, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I had an answer. I didn't have to come up with it, and I didn't hesitate when sharing it. "I want to be a mom." I was so sure of that fact. And I didn't really worry about changing that answer. I loved my answer. It was true. 

Years later, I was faced with another question: "What classes do you want to take that will help you prepare for your future career?" My answer was less sure. I thought I wanted to be an attorney, but I didn't quite understand the complicated factors surrounding the becoming of one. But my mom helped me figure out what my options were, and I signed up for some classes. I felt content with my answer. And I was excited about the possibilities. 

Things didn't work out so well with my high school law training. Truth was, I hated the teacher. Bigger truth was, the teacher hated teaching. And I was faced with a new question. "What school would you like your ACT/SAT scores sent to? And what major would you like on your application?" I panicked. I really hadn't a clue. I didn't know I could write "undeclared," so I asked my mom what I should put at the top of my test. I had picked the school I wanted to attend, and my mom encouraged me to put "pre-communications" as my major. She said I had been interested in it earlier, but I honestly didn't know what it even would entail. I felt passive about this answer. But I knew I could just change it later. 

A lot of things have happened since then. A lot of yesterdays have passed. 

The future is always scary and always complicated--the complications are just different. 

I don't worry about whether I've put my shoes on the right feet anymore (and according to Tabitha, I'm pretty good at that whole "left-right thing" now), and I care so much about having someone to sit with during lunch. 

I still don't know where I'm going always, but I have a pretty good idea of where I've been. I know that I've at least survived the past, and things work out somehow eventually. 

I know I come from a God who loves me. And I know I want to get back in the end. 

It's Nothing Personal

I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't put a whole lot of personal information about my life on here. I tend to gravitate to long divulging rants of my deep, inner thoughts--which, naturally, isn't personal. Sometimes I wish I could go back to the time no one read this blog, back to the time when I posted all of my secrets here--on the world wide web--because it was private. I would talk about roommates, boys, and coworkers without the slightest risk of their finding this site. But now things are different. Yet, something inside of me still wants to gossip with you--tell you everything. I want to giggle about boys (or rather, boy), vent without guilt, and dream without limits.

*Biting bottom lip* .....think I should just spill?

Well, if you're making me. :)

Okay, so, here's the update on my life:

I've been dating boy for about three or four months (we don't really know...).  Boy has liked and chased me for quite awhile longer than I cared to notice. I played the games, worried about what boys thought, and racked up the free dinners for years; but when boy came into my life, my focus was wholly elsewhere. I had decided to serve a mission for the LDS church, and I had already begun packing my bags for an adventurous summer in New York (possibly leaving to never again return). I was still quite okay with the pleasant company and free dinner boy offered (he was a million times better than some of the other crazies I'd been dealing with.), but ironically, my journal entry the day of our first date simply says, "Today I've truly decided to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My heart is burning, and I am ready to go. I know it is the right thing for me." ....Yeah, DAY OF our first date. Kinda funny.

Anyway, I went to New York (and loved it SO much! ...hoping to go back some day), and, as you saw before, boy came out to visit me. (That was only after two months of talking every day, including an 9 hour conversation on Skype.)

Wow. It sounds like I'm announcing my own engagement or something. I'm kind of freaking myself out. So, let me add here, that is NOT the end of this story... *phew* maybe I shouldn't talk about boy on here. I may get myself into trouble.

Before I drag more sappy details out, let me say, I was still in missionary (or potentially taking a job with Nat Geo TV in New York) mode, and didn't really feel anything for boy. He was sweet and all, but it's hard to make feels come that simply don't exist on their own.

So, boy tried harder and harder. And I came back to Utah. My papers are still unfinished. And I turned down two job offers for Nat Geo TV.

Now, I'm working as an American Sign Language interpreter, taking piano and voice lessons, fixing my little sisters' hair, and running carpool for my mother--all while living in the basement of my parents' house. Not really where you dream of being when you're 22, huh? But it works. Well, it more than works. I'm really quite happy with it all--most of the time.

(Oh! I'm also helping my mom with her business, starting a business of my own, and writing a novel. And I get to come home to hot meals from my mom every night!)

Yet, my never-ending itch to go and do still sits at the base of my neck, and I don't know if I will be here much longer. I haven't the slightest clue what my future holds at this point (that was entirely unacceptable a month ago), but I'm learning to embrace the adventure.

I look at women in their 30s and then 40s and think, "One day I'll be you." Then I shutter and try to think of something else. Growing up is really scary. Children think you know a whole lot and that everything works out by the time you're as "old" as I am (goodness, my little sister told me I should be married by now, and asked me what was wrong with me!!!). But sometimes I'm not old, sometimes I'm still young. And sometimes I'm content not making grownup decisions.

So, bring on the adventure! And let me live every day to the fullest! That way, by the time I reach my 30s and 40s, I can feel satisfied and pleased with my life.

Maybe I really shouldn't write ultra-personal posts. I'll only get myself into trouble. My only point was to inform you that I'm happily dating and happily working. Life is {mostly} good.

Life in the Fast Lane

I drive fast.

Faster than I should, I know.

I also say things about other drivers, things that aren't always nice. But I tell myself it's okay because the windows are up and they can't hear me.

I've always lived my life as full as I can. I pack so many things into my schedule, sometimes I do too many things to allow myself to enjoy any of them.

I want to live a full and active life, but I want to enjoy it as well.

It's such a hard balance.

Do you ever feel pressured to do more than you can? Do you ever wish you were capable of living with sleep as an option? Do you ever just stop and notice the ladybugs?

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

Donna is the proud mother of five girls and two boys--Mikey and Hyrum.

One day, Donna grabbed Hyrum and gave him a great big hug.

"Who's my good boy, Hyrum? Who's my good boy?"

Sigh.

"Mikey is."

-Hyrum, my 5 year old cousin.

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

"We're going to sing 'Up on the House Top!'"

"You're not going to sing up on the housetop, you're going to sing up on the stage."

-Julie and Mark, now aunt and father, said over 40 years ago.

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

"Mom, if Shelli's name is really Michelle and we just call her Shelli for fun, is my name really MicJulie?"

-Julie, said 40 years ago when she was a little child.

Times with Tabitha

At the ballet, I took Tabitha down to look at the orchestra pit.

Upon our return from this adventure, brother asked,

"How did you like the orchestra pit?"

"I like it just fine, but don't call me pit."

-My (now) 8 year old sister.

Want that Hurts

Have you ever wanted something so badly, the very thought of it causes your head to spin and stomach to churn. It shouldn't, the thought should be exciting and invigorating; but with each glimmering mental image of my self actually obtaining said want, the thought is quickly smothered by my fear of failure. "What if I can't?" Oh, I want this so, so, so, so much. I happened upon a job profile of some random woman today who's resume was basically my wish list. I admit, I envied. I coveted. I wanted from the bottom of my soul. I craved so deeply, the intensity of suction at the bottom of my stomach nearly turn my body inside out. Ahhhhhh! What do you do when you want something this much? What do you do when you risk falling flat on your face? What do you do when it will take several years to just get there, and then you still might fail? What do you do when you feel you'd have to risk everything, but if you succeed, it'd all be worth it? Yet, if you fail......... If all the hard work, the years of effort and tears, and your pride all get dashed to pieces, is it still worth it? Should I try in spite of the risk of failure?

I want it so much, even my toes are tingling with desire!!! ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

"Teacher, I'm sorry, I can't read this paper for the class."

"Why not?"

"I just can't read your handwriting."

"Kira, it's typed."

- Kira, an 8 year old friend.

Times with Tabitha

"Josh, I want you to hurry up and kiss your girlfriend. I want to be an aunt as soon as possible."

- My 7 year old sister.

Today is a Good Day

I just decided it will be so. Which means, it will be so.

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God Bless Update

31. 9:01 p.m. - Pedro Cortez, 25, an electrician, helped install the communications system used to talk back and forth with the surface. He lost a finger in an earlier mining accident. He and his wife are separated and have one daughter.

32. 9:28 p.m. - Ariel Ticona, 28, was still awaiting rescue when his wife gave birth to their second daughter. They named her "Hope." He worked with Cortez to install the underground communications system.

33. 9:55 p.m. - Luis Alberto Urzua, 54, shift foreman at the time of the collapse, is widely credited with helping the men survive by enforcing tight rations of their limited food, lights and other supplies. Speaking for the miners shortly after their discovery, he told Chilean President Sebastian Pinera: "We hope that all of Chile shows its strength to help us get out of this hell."

God Bless

Rescue order men pulled from Chilean mine
By The Associated Press (AP) – 33 minutes ago
In order, the men pulled from the San Jose mine in Chile, with some details on each:
1. 12:04 a.m. - Florencio Avalos, 31, the second-in-command of the miners, was chosen to be first because he was in the best condition, and best able to deal with any difficulties that might arise.
2. 1:10 a.m. - Mario Sepulveda Espina, 40, captivated Chileans with his engaging personality in videos sent up from underground.
3. 2:08 a.m. - Juan Illanes, 52, is a married former soldier who urged his fellow miners to be disciplined and organized while trapped.
4. 3:09 a.m. - Carlos Mamani, 24, the lone Bolivian, started at the mine five days before the collapse. One of 11 children who emigrated because he could not find work, he has been promised a house and a job by Bolivian President Evo Morales.
5. 4:10 a.m. - Jimmy Sanchez, at 19, is the youngest miner and father of a months-old baby.
6. 5:34 a.m. - Osman Isidro Araya, 30, a father of three, had planned to quit the mine at the end of August because of the risk.
7. 6:21 a.m. - Jose Ojeda, 47, is a widower with no children who has diabetes. Two of his nephews were at the site to greet him.
8. 7:02 a.m. - Claudio Yanez, 34, is a drill operator who requested cigarettes be sent down while awaiting rescue and expressed disgust at the nicotine patches he received instead.
9. 7:59 a.m. - Mario Gomez, at 63, is the oldest of the miners. He also is the most experienced, having first entered a mine shaft to work at age 12.
10. 8:52 a.m. - Alex Vega, 31, who is married with two children, had been saving to buy a house and move out of his parents' home. His father helped in rescue efforts - using a false name because officials prohibited relatives from doing the dangerous work.
11. 9:31 a.m. - Jorge Galleguillos, 55, was injured in at least two earlier mining accidents. He has 13 brothers and requires medication for hypertension. Officials have promised to help his son, who is a university student.
12. 10:11 a.m. - Edison Pena, who is 34 and married, was reportedly among the most depressed of the trapped men and asked rescuers to send down a photo of the sun. He tried to run every day for exercise, and is a fan of Elvis Presley.
13. 10:54 a.m. - Carlos Barrios, 27, is the father of a 5-year-old boy. He is separated from his wife.
14. 11:30 a.m. - Victor Zamora, 34, was an auto mechanic and laborer who has worked at the mine for five years. He sent up poems to his wife, who is pregnant, and is the father of a 4-year-old boy. While underground, he complained of tooth pain.
15. 12:07 p.m. - Victor Segovia, 48, kept a diary of life below, asking those above to send down more pencils and paper. He has five children, is an electrician and plays guitar.
16. 12:49 p.m. - Daniel Herrera, 37, was a truck driver and taxi driver. Herrera is single; his mother and sister have been waiting for him at "Camp Hope," the relatives' encampment outside the mine.
17. 1:38 p.m. - Omar Reygadas, 56, helped organize life below ground and reportedly survived other collapses in the mine. A widower, he has six children, 14 grandchildren and four great-grandchildren, including one born while he was trapped.
18. 2:49 p.m. - Esteban Rojas, 44, proposed a church wedding "once and for all" in a message to the woman he married in a civil ceremony 25 years ago. They have three children.
19. 3:27 p.m. - Pablo Rojas, 45, reportedly went to work at the mine six months ago to help pay university fees for his son, who is studying medicine. He is married.
20. 3:59 p.m. - Dario Segovia, 48, is a lifelong miner whose father first took him underground at age 8. Twice married, he had three children from each marriage. He had worked at the mine for three months, drilling holes for dynamite. He has 12 brothers and sisters.
21. 4:31 p.m. - Johnny Barrios Rojas, 50, worked for 25 years at the mine and served as the medic for the group because he'd had first aid training. Awaiting above are relationships that need healing as well: his wife and his lover met at Camp Hope.
22. 5:04 p.m. - Samuel Avalos, 43, is married with three children, had been working as a street vendor and got a job at the mine for more money.
23. 5:32 p.m. - Carlos Bugueno, 26, found himself trapped alongside a childhood friend, Pedro Cortez. A passionate soccer fan, he asked to have game broadcasts piped below. Relatives said the former security guard went to work at the mine to earn money for a car and house.
24. 5:59 p.m. - Jose Henriquez, 55, formed and led a prayer group while trapped and had friends send 33 small Bibles down the tiny supply hole. Chilean reports say that in January he helped save several miners who had passed out in the mine, apparently due to gas, and had to be rescued himself when he was overcome returning for another miner. Married with twin daughters, he has spent 33 years in the mines and survived a landslide on the surface in 1986.
25. 6:24 p.m. - Renan Avalos, 29, is the brother of the first man out. He had worked at the mine five months.
26. 6:51 p.m. - Claudio Acuna, 35, proposed to his girlfriend Fabiola Araya from below ground. He has two children.
27. 7:18 p.m. - Franklin Lobos, 53, a former professional soccer player, drove the bus that carried the miners to work. Lobos was a midfielder on the Chilean teams La Serena, Iquique and Cobresal, and was on the national team that qualified for the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles. He has two daughters.
28. 7:44 p.m. - Richard Villaroel, 23, is returning to his wife, who is in the late stages of pregnancy.
29. 8:13 p.m. - Juan Carlos Aguilar, 46, has worked as a miner since he was 19. He is married with two children.
30. 8:37 p.m. - Raul Bustos, 40, a hydraulic engineer, was caught up in both of Chile's two recent tragedies. The tsunami caused by February's earthquake destroyed the shipyard where he worked. So he journeyed north to work in the mine — two months before he was trapped there. He would travel back 20 hours by bus to visit his wife and two children.

Tripping at the Finish Line

I am a horrible runner.

As a child, my aerobic activity of choice was always dance. I loved looking beautiful as the music pulsed through my blood. I loved having every part of my body in line, all the way down to my pinky finger, as I executed intricate combinations of coordinated head, arm, leg and foot movements. Every inch of flexibility gained became a battle won, and a huge source of pride and self-worth. To feel powerful and graceful simultaneously is a rush few people in this world experience.

So, what does this have to do with running? Well, I'm not dancing any more. I subbed dance at my old studio this past month while another teacher recovered from having a baby, but I have not personally felt the elating bath of precision, poise and passion through dance for some time now. Actually, it's been years. In the stead of this wonderful aerobic activity, I've tried to pick up running. I don't know a single dancer that runs--seriously. It's as though your body only knows how to do one or the other. But, alas, my life has moved me on to picking up "the other."

Last year, my friend and I set out to run a 5k at the end of the semester. We had one semester to work up to jogging 3.1 miles without slowing or stopping. I still remember our early days; it was a joke. We literally had to stop at the half way mark of each lap, not even half mile! Like I said, pathetic. I wanted to quit. I wish I had quit before I even started so I wouldn't have to be reminded of my achey body's weaknesses. But my friend was wonderfully supportive, and never a quitter.

So, I didn't quit. We ran almost daily together. I started loving it. I loved how I felt after I ran. I loved the sense of accomplishment I had each time I pushed myself a little bit farther and a little bit faster. I loved the effects it was having on my body.

Pretty soon, we were running our 5k at least 3 times a week. Success!

Then we stopped.

We got busy. Both of us understood finals were the priority. It was just easier to go "next time."

I've run off and on since that time, but it's been nothing like the drive and consistency I had before. Plus, I slide back in my abilities. ugh.

I'm trying to pick myself up again. I'm trying to go when I can. But I have a long way to go before I can again say, "success."

I feel like this sliding back happens in my life all the time. I set goals; I get excited about things; I work hard. But then life reminds me how difficult simply moving forward can be. Sometimes I believe I'd be more ahead if I'd just stop trying. With each effort to move forward one inch, I'm pushed back two. I know this isn't realistic, but the thought makes giving up look mighty good sometimes.

Lately I've wanted to do a lot of giving up. I find a lot to complain about, and a lot to be unhappy with.

I know giving up is rarely an acceptable answer (I should say never, but I'd like to reserve some loophole possibility to excuse myself on occasion...). I know it's not acceptable today. I just wish it were.

Sometimes I think I'm closer to a win than I realize, and I just need someone to pick me up and remind me I want to finish the race, to feel my pain and cheer me on.

Saving the World

I work at a school for children below the poverty line. Some of the families are just under the weather, some come from broken homes with broken hearts, some are creating bridges from unhappy homes to happy ones through foster care and adoption, and some have court orders to attend or they'll lose their children.

The foster father of a very cute and quite student at this school explained that one of the hardest things they faced when taking in this little boy and his two siblings, was teaching them that food did not come out of the garbage can. This 3-year-old boy was so afraid of being hungry, the father would find him shoving handfuls of flower and sugar in his mouth, and gnawing on cans of food.

Another young boy in the class is so scared of being left alone, he follows the teacher, holding the back of her shirt, around the room.

Some days, mothers come in crying.

I've seen bruises.

Some parents eat dried out school chicken nuggets by their children with a deeper look of hunger than even their 4-year-old shows.

I see their aching want as parents to give the world to their children, but not being able to give them food.

It hurts my heart. I want to make everything better.

In my dream, I changed my house into a very large and loving foster home.

I saved all of the kids from harm, and hugged them till the overflowing warmth of my soul covered them in a life-long protective blanket.

We ate, laughed, and lived without worry. I just wanted everyone to be happy.

Why can't I save the world?

Times with Tabitha

"What time is Granny's funeral on Saturday?"

"Tabitha, it's not her funeral! It's her 90th birthday party!"

"Oh, right. That's what I meant."

- My 7 year old sister.

Times with Tabitha

Background: My boy works for Brigham Young University Broadcasting sports, and has expressed his opinion to my family many times about the BYU football team's recent, umm, shall we say.... shortcomings.

Well, my family is not a big sports family, but last night Tabitha expressed her deep concerns for sports because of it's importance to boy, who she considers to be one of her best friends.

Last night, Tabitha prayed quietly next to her bed: "....And please bless {boy} that he can let our football team win."

- My 7 year old sister.

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

"Look at how big the Great Salt Lake is!"

"Mom! Mom! Is there pepper in there too????"

-Hyrum, my 5 year old cousin.

Times with Tabitha

"How do you spell 'haft'?"

"As in, 'I halved the apple'?"

"No, as in 'I haft oo do that.'"

- My 7 year old sister.