Traffic

Now that we're settled into the house, I have time to discover and appreciate benefits of the move that extend beyond the house itself.

I lived and/or worked in the Denver metro area for five years. I could get around pretty well. I knew which route to take depending on the time of day. I never tried to do errands before 10 AM or after 3 PM because traffic would make the trip twice as long.

After moving I kept up the same pattern of thinking, then one day I was on the other side of our new town and it was getting late in the afternoon. When I realized it was nearly 4:30 PM I internally groaned and resigned myself. But then as I climbed into the car I thought to check traffic on my phone first to see the damage. Green everywhere. I was shocked. Then I felt dumb. Duh! I'm not in Denver anymore! As I started driving there were more vehicles on the road than earlier, but I wasn't actually delayed by the heavier volume.

When I brought up this experience to relatives who live nearby they chuckled. They clarified they call it "rush minute" around here instead of rush hour. Traffic gets slow for about 15 minutes at 5PM then clears right up. I feel like my days are suddenly wide open and full of new possibilities now that I can go anywhere at anytime!

Though I was used to it while I lived there, I do not miss the crowds of the big city.  In addition to traffic not existing around here, I've yet to have to wait for a checker at the grocery store no matter when we go, even on evenings and weekends. Costco feels relatively abandoned. We found a parking space right in front at the farmers market. I love it!

Schrödinger's cat, my birthday, and baby things. It doesn't have to make sense.

Schrödinger's cat is a thought experiment. To dumb it down, Austrian physicist Schrödinger presents a scenario where a cat may be alive or dead, depending on an earlier random event.  Until you observe the cat to actually see whether it is alive or dead, you have to assume it's simultaneously alive and dead.

We didn't find out if our baby is a boy or girl.  It doesn't bother me at all because until baby comes out and we can see if it's a boy or girl, we get to assume it's both a boy and a girl and have all the fun of anticipating both for 9 months.  Our baby is Schrödinger's cat.

We really have no indication of whether baby is a boy or girl.  No feelings, dreams, inclinations, or preferences sway us one way or another.  We really just want a healthy baby.  We're prepared for both and will be happy with either. I'm really glad I don't get to pick.  I have a hard enough time deciding what to eat for lunch.  BTW, we think all the tips, tricks, and old wives tales for guessing are BS, so don't even go there.

I'm at 37.5 weeks, so baby is full term and may show up anytime between now and Spring Break.  Five weeks is a huge margin for normal delivery timing. It's 12.5% of the length of an average pregnancy.  It boggles my mind.  Baby is all ready to go.  S/he's been head down since about 19 weeks and dropped over 2 weeks ago if my bladder is a reliable indicator.  This is my husband's child for sure. He's always prepared for everything well in advance.  Even if his exit isn't for miles he'll get in the right hand lane even if traffic is slower there just to be ready.  He joked last week that baby simply identified the exit and got in the right lane early.  I laughed so hard from the truth of the statement I almost coughed up a lung.

I've been so sick the last couple weeks.  I was doing so well and then bam!  Worst cold of my life.  All those things people say about how miserable it is to be sick and pregnant are all true.  Comes on easier, stronger, and stays around longer.  Not cool.  My only consolation is supposing that all this coughing has helped strengthen my sorry abdominal muscles and will aid in delivery.  I'm happy to report I'm finally feeling much better.

I was sick over my birthday this year.  Which is fine because per usual, my husband had to work that night.  Not like I would have spent my evening any different if he hadn't.  I've pretty much spent the last 10 evenings on the couch watching the Olympics, blowing my nose, and getting up to pee during every commercial break and/or special athlete highlight. I did get to have a little fun. We went out to breakfast (I had bacon pancakes.  BACON PANCAKES.) after a morning prenatal appointment, my coworker brought me cake and flowers at work, and I got a email birthday greeting from my local dentist.

Don't ask me how old I am. I legitimately can't remember most of the time and having a birthday just complicated it.

I'm going to educate you

I'm a little disappointed nobody actually answered the question, except for the two who just asked another question in turn (namely, "You're head is missing?" and "You've gained some weight?").

Guys, the answer to my question should be yes.

And by golly, why shouldn't I look different?  I've been working for every inch.  It's disheartening to be steamrolled by those who think they are doing me a favor by discounting my size when they are really making me feel like there is something wrong, or like I am some kind of wimp for feeling large and tired but only producing small results, or I'm flat out lying about being pregnant.

FACT: the 26 week gestation baby inside the woman who looks ready to give birth is just as large as the baby inside the woman who looks like she's doing a poor job hiding a football under her shirt.  And both women are uncomfortable.

Just like you should never ask a woman if she's pregnant, don't ever comment on her size (after her pregnancy is independently or voluntarily confirmed, of course).  No matter her size or gestation, 99% of the time you'll sound like a douche-bag to her when presumably you don't mean to. Err on the side of telling her you're happy for her and hope everything is healthy.

No matter how it looks from the outside, carrying a practicing human in the uterus is uncomfortable at every stage, so give all pregnant women credit for what they are accomplishing.  At the end of the day, they are making people with their bodies and everyone else is not.

For all other questions people need to stop asking, this article sums many up nicely.

Now that I've preemptively returned the favor of giving unsolicited advice, your reward for reading it, i.e. answers to the questions I know you wanted to ask:

• Due date: March 8, aka 26 weeks gestation
• Baby's sex unknown by choice.  Yes, this was a rational decision.  No, I have neither a suspicion nor a preference if it's a male or female. No, I don't have a problem calling Baby "it".
• Yes, both of us are healthy.
• Yes, husband and I are excited.
• Yes, Baby moves a lot. Within the last week it can reach my ribs when I'm seated.
• Yes, we have several names lined up.  I'm not sharing here but you can ask if you see me.
• Yes, I'll take maternity leave from work, but no I don't know what I'll do afterward.
• No, I'm not sick anymore.
• I'm 21 weeks in the blue-dress picture.  I have a more recent picture but it looks like a prison photo.  Since I'm not in the habit of publicly distributing ugly pictures of myself, if you want to know what I look like, look at the blue dress picture and imagine me slightly bigger.
• Sadly, the basil is dead.  It was a seasonal plant, anyway....

Validation

I admit I'm a lazy pet owner.  I never want a dog of my own because they take way more energy than I'm willing to give.  One time I had this goldfish for a year.  I hardly ever cleaned the tank and forgot to feed it all time time and yet it hung on admirably.  I'll probably have to answer for it's life someday.

I did enjoy having cats.  Most of my life my family had at least one outdoor cat at any given time and they were great because all you had to do for maintenance is put out food and water.  Unfortunately, sometimes their life expectancy was akin to the goldfish, but sometimes we had a rock star that stuck around for half a dozen years (three cheers Tiger).  "My" current cat has been with the family 8 years now, but I attribute her longevity to indoor life and my mother's care so I don't really get credit for anything but picking her out at the Humane Society for my 18th birthday.

Because of my lazy pet-owning history, sometimes I fear I shouldn't be a parent.  I felt like I should try out some other kind of nurturing to boost my confidence.  Some people get a dog as their "starter" child.  I decided on a houseplant.  I expressed this to my husband so one day he came home from the grocery store with a primrose.  I was excited and a little nervous and read up on the care of indoor primroses and planned to buy a little pot and soil to give it a better situation.  A day later I put it near a window out of directly sunlight as instructed.  Unfortunately, by the time we got home the sun shifted and the poor thing was toast.   I had it for literally 2 days and killed it.  I felt like a terrible human and a doomed pro-creator.

Since this failure had the opposite effect on my confidence that I needed, I impulsively picked up a half-dead basil plant at the grocery store to start anew.  Husband was a little wary, given my history and the initial state of the organism, but he supported my efforts.  I cut it back and nurtured the living parts and I'm proud to relate that I've not only kept it alive, but it's actually thriving .  I finally procured a larger container and a friend donated some potting soil so I could upgrade its habitat. I've used bits of basil to make tomato basil soup this spring and it turned out great.

Ok, I realize that raising basil is not super hard, and it doesn't exactly disprove that I'm a lazy nurturer.  But it's baby steps to... well, baby steps. Today it's basil, tomorrow... still basil.  But someday?  The world.

An aside

I haven't written in a while because frankly, I didn't feel like it.  The balance of March was crazy in a mostly-awful way, and I don't really want to talk about it.

I try to keep things light on here and I recognize I rarely discuss deeply personal or emotional things.  Once in a while I write about things I find profound, but those reveal more about what and how I think than what I feel or do.  It's just not my style to talk about personal things in a public venue.  Or even a not-so-public venue.  I'm more of a "if I think it's your business I'll volunteer the information one-on-one" kind of person.  This may seem surprising since I come off as a friendly and outgoing person, but if you pay attention I am not revealing a whole lot even when I'm talking a lot.  Content is not proportional to volume.

Besides not sharing things because I don't think they're everyone's business, I partly feel I don't want to come off as trying to receive validation for my situation by placing it in a public forum.  And strong (especially emotional) reactions-- positive or negative-- from people not involved in a given situation makes me uncomfortable.  I don't know why.  It just does.  Also, when too many get involved in what's going on, it's harder to me to be self-aware that I'm doing what I feel is right vs. what is expected/desired by everyone else.  I gain strength of resolve through limiting spectators.

I'm also careful because this is a public blog and I don't know what weirdos could be reading it.  I usually keep details or names purposefully vague for that reason.  If you're a creepy stalker, I don't want to feed you information.  If you're a random reader, it doesn't matter who the people are since you don't know them anyway.  If you do know me, chances are you know the details via some other communication if they're relevant to you.

There's always that argument that "people just care about you so it's OK to let them know what's going on".  But if people really care about me, my reasoning is that they will respect the way I handle myself and won't ask me to go about sharing things I'm not comfortable sharing with everyone.  Don't worry that I'm, like, covering up for illegal acts or something.  I'm not even keeping secrets.  I'm just private and judicious in my dissemination of information.  What I'm not telling is just as often happy things as stressful.

One thing you may appreciate as a result of this information is once you understand that if I do tell you something that seems personal and significant, it's because I choose for you to know it, and I must think it's important for you to know.  So please spread use the information respectfully. I recognize that by default extension, I'm also choosing your circle of acquaintance to know because word will inevitably spread.  If I wanted to keep something on the DL, I just wouldn't tell.

Ok, that's all I wanted to say.  This isn't a response to any one situation in particular, but conclusions drawn from a lot personal reflection spurred by my experiences over the last five weeks.

By the way, I foresee a bit more activity on this ol' blog in the future, because I decided there are a couple of things I do want to talk about.  Stay tuned.

Happy birthday, Blog

I was just sitting here during my lunch break thinking and decided to look up my first blog post.  I realized I started this blog 4 years and 2 days ago.  Lots has happened since then, but 4 years worth of stuff?  Hard to believe. 

I started the blog as I was preparing to leave for a sememster in Jerusalem.  It's fun to reread and remember what I was doing and feeling at the time.  I had no idea what it would be like, but I know it would be important and change me.  As I describe the feeling in my second post, "It's almost like knowing you are about to win the lottery, but instead of cash you're getting Life."

"Life as I know it" certainly changed a lot since then.  I don't think I've ever told wrote about where my blog's name came from.  It's from a line in the movie P.S I Love You.  At the end of the movie the main character is reading a letter from her husband written before he died of an illness some time before (I'm not spoiling anything; this is entire premis of the plot and the first thing any summary of the movie will tell you). 

After encouraging her to move on with life without him, he tells her:

"Watch out for that signal, when life as you know it ends." 

That line resonated with me, especially as I was at that very time face to face with one of those signals telling me this incredible and rare opportunity was ending life as I knew it.  That kind of ending though isn't a termination.  It's a transformation.  We still exist, but how we exist changes, "normal" changes, life as we know it is different than it used to be.  Just think about that.  Isn't that a thrilling to think about?  How so much can hinge on one choice?  I think so.

I've tried to make this little blog a chronical of those "signals" of when life as I know it ends, and what happens because of them.  If you've been here from the start you've followed me to Israel, to Utah, through college, to graduation, to Denver, to Europe, and to wherever else I set my mind to go and do.  Thanks for indulging me over the years.  May you take notice of the signals that change your life as you know it.

I don't feel bad about any of this

• I've never read Harry Potter
• I've never seen Titanic
• I've never read Twilight
• I've never seen Avatar
• The soundtrack to Wicked is annoying
• I hate it when people use lol, rofl, lmao, ur, and most other text shorthand
• I want to run over jaywalkers every time they walk out in front of me.  Every time.
• I don't think Brad Pitt is attractive
• Sometimes I eat ice cream for meals
• I don't like seafood
• I hate playing volleyball
• I hate playing Capture the Flag
• I ignore all calls and texts between bedtime and 9am
• Video games are a big fat waste of time
• Johnny Depp ruined Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Idiot Encounters

Maybe it's just me, but it seems like I've dealt with more idiots than normal today and it inspired me to vent to this listening ear I call a blog. 

Much of my job involves customer service, and I'm pretty good at it if I can trust my customer's candid and unsolicited positive feedback.  But some people sure try my patience.

The following situations describe most of the idiot encounters at my job.  I attribute my positive service record to only thinking the following responses instead of saying them.  (Actually, I do say them, to myself.  It helps, a little.) 

Some context: my office is in a parking garage.  Like, literally inside the garage, in a little enclosed room.  I am not an attendant; I just happen to work by entry/exit gates which are fully automated and get a front row seat to the idiocy and sometimes get called upon to save people from themselves.

Situation #1:

Customer forgest to pay for monthly parking and uses the excuse "Life's been crazy".

What I don't say (but really want to):

And... how is that relevant to the situation?  "Crazy life" is not an excuse. It is the human condition. It will never change, so plan for it and pay on time like everyone else.  (The only person I authorized to use this excuse was the girl who missed a payment because she fell on glass and severed two tendons and an artery in her wrist.  Now THAT's an excuse.)

Situation #2:

Customer tells me he lost his parking ticket.  I tell him to push the lost ticket button on his way out and pay the daily max ($12).  He says he was only parked for 10 minutes.

 

What I don't say (but really want to):

Wow, then that means you are REALLY dumb for losing your little ticket in only 10 minutes, huh?  You shall be properly punished when you pay to leave.

Situation #3:

Monthly parker gets card turned off for non-payment and get's irritated that "it's only the 10th", like I'm asking for his money way before it's due.

What I don't say (but really want to):

Well, sir, payment was due on the 1st.  It has always been due on the 1st.  And it will always be due on the 1st.  You got your invoice on the 20th of last month.  I gave you 10 day grace period.  That means you have had 21 days to pay.  You work for a bank, have a personal assistant, drive a Jaguar, and you're apparently an idiot.  I fear for your clients.  Now pay for your parking and leave me alone.

Situation #4:

People drive cars into the concrete partition.

I don't have to say anything.  These idiots never complain to me because figure out they're idiots on their own. 

Of course, there are more idiot types than those listed above.  There are a lot of people who don't look at the signs showing them how to insert their tickets and credit cards properly (they always look sheepish  when I come turn the card over). 

Plenty who only carry an old credit card with barely any mag strip left and act annoyed when the card doesn't work. 

Those who don't read signs and enter after 4pm (when the rate is a flat $4) who think they're being overcharged when they only stay an hour and so try to get out free.  (It never works, btw).

A few who don't wait for the gate to lift before plowing into it.  (This is a primary reason we got security cameras.)

And then, like today, there are the people (TWO within seconds of each other this afternoon) who don't pay attention to the clearance height restriction and knock down the clearance bar-- and then act annoyed that it did damage to their cargo tub on top of the vehicle.  My reply for that: Nobody made you park here.   Actually, we'd rather you didn't park here which is why we put up a sign.  Now go away, please.

Glad to get that off my chest.  I feel better already.  It's amazing what a few italics can do for the soul. 

Anyone got a good idiot enounter to share with the class? 

I'm gonna run like I mean it

I've never solicited for something like this, but I will now because it involves two things dear to my heart.

I recently decided to take part in a 5K this weekend.  The Gift of Breath and Life is a community run/walk started in 2008 by an LDS Denver family to raise money for lung cancer research after the father passed away from the disease in 2007.  It will take place on the UC Anschutz Medical Campus Saturday morning.  The run is technically free, but they ask for donations to support an endowment that funds research looking for a reliable test to detect lung cancer in its early stages and improve mortality.

First, I want to do this race because I like to run.  I ran public school cross country from first grade through high school graduation.  I haven't run much since high school.  I took the opportunity in college to discover new activities, but recently I've returned to the comfort of running like an old friend.  My friend Shelly is my running partner and motivation.  She's running this weekend as well.

Second and more significantly, I want to do this race because I support its cause.  My Grandma Lee passed away from a combination of lung cancer and congestive heart failure when I was in high school.  She was first diagnosed with lung cancer when I was elementary school.  Surgery appeared to cut out all infected tissue and gave her 10 more years of life.  The second time around, the cancer stayed for keeps.  I miss Grandma a lot.  If early detection back then could have kept her around a little longer, I would have been grateful for those who made it happen.

Each participant this weekend can submit a fundraising goal, and I set mine to the amount I plan to donate myself.  But if you find it in your heart to contribute as well, GO HERE to make a difference.  I like to think whatever I can give will help keep someone else's grandma/pa around a little longer, or keep someone around so they can become a grandparent.

Typography

If you are a semi-frequent reader you should have noticed things look different again.  I decided the dark theme felt too much like cold weather and cave dwelling.  In honor of 80 degrees Fahrenheit yesterday, I made some changes.

I think typography is fascinating.  Color, font, arrangement, justification (as in right, left, centered), and text size can completely change what you think about written word.  Just changing the colors and fonts on this blog make the voice in my head sound differently when I re-read posts.  The attitude of the site is different, but hopefully not unfamiliar.  How does it feel to you?  Does it still sound like me talking? 

Blogger has pre-designed blog templates one can apply by default, but I don't love any of them so I always take the one that has the layout I like the most then changed everything.  I compose every element of this page to properly reflect how I want my writing to feel to the reader.  Because audible non-verbal communication is zilch and I mostly despise emoticons, I convey expression through color, font, arrangement, size, layout to control how my writing will "sound" to the reader.  After changing the colors, I realized I also needed to change the font.  After changing the font, I had to change some page elements.   All to preserve semblance of my personal identity in the design.
 
I'm not practicing some kind of Zen writing philosophy.  Typography is a big deal and has been since Gutenberg.  Every professionally generated form of print takes into consideration not just the content of the writing, but what it looks like.  What the letters and words and lines look like on the page, independent of the meaning, can and will affect readers' response to the content. 

Do you ever read cute-sy blogs that have bold, curly font and loud colors and frilly pictures?  I do... sometimes.  Only when I really really want to see pictures of the blogger's new baby.  Truthfully, those blogs get significantly less time devoted (I end up quickly skimming dutifully as my eyes are dazzled with annoying typeface) than blogs with clean lines and clarity of look.  It's literally easier for me to read the latter kind than the former, even if I am initially more interested in the content of the first blog.  Moral of the story: if you produce written word that you want people to read, make it easy on the eyes.  Make it fun to look at and not just read.

Let me know how you feel about the changes and if you have any recommendations to improve upon my current design.

Grandpa Lee

Leo J. Lee. Christmas or Thanksgiving 2004. 35mm b&w film.  (c) Sadie Lee 2004.

I took the above picture as a senior in high school.  I was in a black and white photography class. I used my dad's old brick of a Cannon SLR for the class, where there is no such thing as an automatic setting.  I wasn't so good at choosing the best camera settings, but what I lacked in the shooting process I learned to make up for in the development process.  I cropped this print down from a larger picture which actually includes my uncle to the right.  I think they were playing cribbage as the family is wont to do at gatherings like these.  I made several test prints of varying sizes and played around with making it lighter or darker.  This is the print I actually turned in for a portrait assignment.  My name and class period are still penciled on the back.  I have a duplicate larger print framed somewhere among my things in Idaho.

I love this picture.  I put in in a little black frame and took it with me to college.  It sat on a shelf or desk or hung on a wall in every aparment I lived in.  It's sitting on my dresser right now.  I like it because he doesn't know anybody's looking.  If he knows his picture is being taken he gets self concious, sets his lips in a thin, tight half-smile, and sort of looks out of the corner of his eye as if to say "You done yet?"  But this picture is how I see him in my head.  Relaxed, thinking about something, white hair carefully combed, plaid flannel shirt, probably wearing suspenders, sitting in the old house down the street with the red shag carpet (even though Grandma replaced that carpet 15 years ago).

I don't think Grandpa ever saw this picture.  He would probably be embarassed, call me Ol' Sade, peer at it and say "Who's that old cotton picker?"  And then I'd laugh at his political incorrectness and modesty.

Grandpa Lee died last Tuesday sometime in the night.  He went into the hospital last month the day before my birthday from things that come with old age and being sick.  He eventually got released to go back home, but that episode was an intense reality check for me.  I finally realized he wouldn't stick around on earth forever.  I had a merciful month to get used to the idea before Mom called me with the news last week.  I thought it would be a terrible moment, but it really wasn't.  More just, sad... and peaceful and reassuring and like everything is fine, because it is fine.

I only really get down about it when I think about the things I'll miss having him there for like reunions, and Christmas, and my wedding, and my future children.  I hope my older cousins appreciate how much of their lives and their children's lives they got to share with this guy.  I'm sure he'll still be there for all my special times and so will Grandma, but the camera won't see them.  Thank heaven for memories, friends, Grandma Helen, and other family to keep him alive in our hearts until we can join him for eternity.



Headstone, Moyallen Quaker Meeting cemetary, Ireland. (c) Sadie Lee 2010.



Change

"I have always believed that in the lives of individuals, just as in society at large, the profoundest changes take place within a very reduced time frame.  When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change; at such a moment, there is no point in pretending that nothing has happened or in saying that we are not yet ready. The challenge will not wait.  Life does not look back. A week is more than enough time for us to decide whether or not to accept our destiny."

Author's note, The Devil and Miss Prym by Paulo Coelho

I started reading this new book the other day.  I encountered the above quote at the end of the author's note at the beginning.  The truth of the statement struck me quite forcefully.  I've found myself returning to reread it over and over. I thought about it so much I sort of didn't care to start the actual story for a while.

I feel like all of the most "profound" changes in my life took place in relatively short periods of time.  This is not to stay that all significant changes occurred quickly because, of course, some things simply cannot be shortened.  But the changes that stick most in my mind, and therefore I consider most profound, were choices suddenly imposed upon me.  Those moments certainly challenged my courage and forced themselves upon me in such a way to demand a response.  Indeed, I could not ignore their presence, nor could I delay my decision out of un-readiness because as it says above, "the challenge will not wait."

I suppose if we did expect sudden challenges before they arrived, and if they were drawn out over a period of time, their impact would not be so indelible in our lives.  They are all the more significant and memorable precisely because they are sudden, unexpected, and jarring.  It's a lot easier to remember fire is hot once you get burned.

Since I cannot predict when such sudden moments of decision are going to occur, all the more reason to be prepared for whatever comes.  All the more reason to make intermediate decisions every day that I can control.  All the more reason to stick to morals and goals and beliefs and other tried and tested frameworks to guide my life to minimize stress and maximize making the decision that is matches who I am and/or want to become.

August

This time of year makes me think of two things: elephant ears and school.

Elephant ears (the food, not the body part) are delicious confections often found at fairs, particularly the North Idaho Fair and Rodeo the third week of August every summer.  They consist of a sweet dough rolled out, deep fried, and covered in cinnamon and sugar.  Oh, and they're as big as the platters you use for the Thanksgiving turkey. My extended family has run an elephant ear booth at the NI Fair since time immemorial... or maybe just 30-something years.  Long enough to become an institution and a landmark with loyal customers the world over.  The profits from the booth go into a family fund of sorts and are applied towards things like helping send cousins on missions for our church.

This is my first year missing the fair.  Ever.  It's really weird.  It's always a party in the booth--a big, close, hot, sweaty, greasy, sugary, loud party.  I don't miss the greasy, hot, sweaty, sugary part, but I do miss seeing all the cousins and eating my fair share of EE's and chocolate milk.  I miss everyone ordering everyone around, complaining if someone doesn't roll/cook/sugar/mix the way they like it done (roll 'em nice and big, no holes, cooked blonde, and evenly coated please!).  I miss getting into the fair free, going to the rodeo after the Friday afternoon shift, bartering for MICA burgers, and watching the summer climax and creep to an end.

And then comes school.  Or not!  This is the first fall I will not start a new year of school in 19 years.  That's a long time.  It's like, 83% of my life.  I should feel weirded out, right?  But I don't.  I thought I might, but I'm over school for reals. I guess I have a talent for appreciating things while they last, then moving on when the time is right.  If I dwell on the past, I miss the exciting things coming up ahead.  I'm really so over and done it would feel weirder if I had to go back.

I still have the urge to buy new clothes and school supplies.

Throw Me a Rope

"Throw Me a Rope" is a song by a girl named KT Tunstall.  You may have heard her song "Black Horse and a Cherry Tree" on the radio.  She has a lot of great stuff, and I think the songs not playing on the radio are her best.  This is one of them.  Sometimes I listen to it on repeat, over and over and over.  It's a rare song if I don't tire of it quickly.

This song reminds me of many people, especially at this time when I've headed off into a great unknown, not knowing anyone but my brother and his little family.  Sometimes the song makes me think of one far away person, sometimes another. A family member, a friend.  People I miss and I wish could be near.  There's something about being physically close to someone that satisfies like nothing else.  Sometimes I'd rather be next to someone in silence than apart and talking.

Sometimes the song reminds me of places, especially places where I've learned to be me.  It's scary to leave the security of familiar places for a new place, a place where I haven't learned to be me yet.  I love to explore new places and meet new people, but it's not as fun to have only new people.  I like to have a few old people and places around me, ones who know me already, who I don't have to explain myself to.  I find it very restful to be with these things who know my freckles, my laugh, my jokes, my stories.

Don't think I'm lamenting my lot.  This is a good place with good people.  I'm slowly putting down little roots, meeting people, learning where to go and how to be.  I just wish I had a best friend here holding my hand through it.

Listen to the song here.  Below are the lyrics.  Enjoy, and think of me.

Throw Me a Rope

I want you between me and the feeling I get when I miss you
But everything here is telling me I should be fine

So why is it so, above as below,

That I'm missing you every time

I got used to you whispering things to me into the evening

We followed the sun and its colours and left this world

It seems to me that I'm definitely

Hearing the best that I've heard

So throw me a rope to hold me in place

Show me a clock for counting my days down

Cause everything's easier when you're beside me

Come back and find me

Cause I feel alone

And whenever you go it's like holding my breath underwater

I have to admit that I kind of like it when I do

Oh but I've got to be unconditionally

Unafraid of my days without you

So throw me a rope to hold me in place

Show me a clock for counting my days down

Cause everything's easier when you're beside me

Come back and find me

Whenever I'm falling you're always behind me

Come back and find me

Cause everything's easier when you're beside me

Come back and find me

Cause I feel alone

Swing Dancing

WARNING: this is a big one, and it gets nerdy

I graduate on Friday.  I’ve been thinking a lot about all the things I've done, places I've gone, people I've met, subjects I've studied, and mentors I've looked up to for the past five school years.  One thing I’ll miss the most is the Swing Kids Club.  I've wanted to write a little tribute to this gem of a club for a while, and this is as good an opportunity as any.  

I took an Introduction to Folklore class this semester for my last GE requirement.  (Most people have an incomplete vision of what folklore it.  Basically, it’s traditional and informal knowledge of a group of people.)   I did my major semester project on the folklore of swing dancing.  As part of it, I interviewed dancers to analyze why kids joined the club, what made them keep coming, and ultimately, how they felt they belonged or not.  This project allowed me to think back on my own experience with the club and how I learned the lore and found a place in this group.  The exercise has been enlightening.

If you didn't already know or haven’t figured it out yet, I like to swing dance.  Like real, '40s, big band, jazzy, swing dance.  During the winter semester of my freshman year at BYU, I sort of invited myself along to a club dance one weekend with a friend from my ward.  I knew nothing, and it showed.  I’d never tried real partnered dance before and I was completely lost!  I felt stupid at my lack of knowledge.  I determined it would not beat me, so I started attending lessons the club holds on Tuesday evenings.  I finally learned the steps, and eventually I learned to dance.  (Those are very different things.)

Swing dancing became my default social life.  If I didn't make plans for Saturday night, I could always rely on a swing dance somewhere on campus full of friends to dance with.  During my sophomore year I tried out and made one of the club's dance teams (I'm on the left. Oh wow, that was a long time ago.  We were all still learning).  Through that experience I became more integrated with the club and its members.  People recognized me when I came, and missed me when I didn't.  It felt good.

When I interviewed fellow swing dancers for this folklore project, almost everyone identified a handful of key characteristics of club “regulars”, people who are clearly recognized as belonging to the swing scene:  

• Frequent attendance
• Intent to improve
• Attending alone
• Take initiative to become friends with other dancers

As you can gather from my description above, I naturally did all those things.  I felt validated as I talked with other dancers and saw that their process of integration mirrored my own.  I felt like not only do we all belong because we share the above characteristics, but also because we all went through the same transition into dancers.  We all knew what it was like to be confused, self conscious, and unsure of ourselves.  Because of that, we appreciate each other’s success all the more once someone “got it”.

Whatever the factor, I think my love of swing dancing can really be boiled down to two things: the club was a place I belonged, and it was also a thing all my own.  It was really the first time I exercised my independence and found something by myself I wanted to learn about and excel in.  I built up my skill on initiative and desire.  Nobody was grading me; no coach pushing me.  I didn’t care what other people thought about it.  The sheer possession of the hobby helped me create an identity for myself that was really all me.  The self esteem boost at this formative time of life left me satisfied and empowered. 

That’s the take home message here.  We’re defined by the groups we are a part of.  Some are chosen for us, but others we get to choose.  I think the ones that we get to choose reveal the most about us.

I think I just had a related epiphany.  But I’ll save it for another day.  

Dancing last year at the Utah Lindy Exchange

Home

I'm home.

I love that feeling of being home. I love how everything looks the same (until I notice those few changes: a new chair, the new fish, a new centerpiece on the table). Everything smells right. Usually I'd say I know where everything is, but I still don't feel like I know where everything is after the remodel, despite extended visits for holidays and summer vacation. I'm here just infrequently enough to forget.

I love driving around town, how it all is so familiar and I know the pace of the town and the length of the traffic lights and the glow of the street lights and their reflections in the pavement in the high school parking lot. Like in the house, I notice changes. I saw and drove around the new traffic circle on Fourth Street and Hanley tonight. They worked on it all summer and didn't finish before I left, so that was exciting. Driving through my dark neighborhood everything looks content. Sometimes Provo neighborhoods feel worn from the march of humanity who pass through, but my home street feels quiet and personal.

I love going to stores at home. I go to the same stores in Utah, but every store has a different layout and selection wherever you go. I love knowing where I like to park, and then walking in and not needing to think about where the items I need are, but letting my feet guide me.

I love looking out the front door and seeing those houses, and looking out the back windows and seeing this mountain and those trees and that pasture and hearing the bell ring over the yards at the elementary school up the street. This is Summer; this is Thanksgiving; this is Christmas; this is Family; this is Home.

Insomnia and Personal Reflection

I came down with a nasty head cold sometime Wednesday night. I didn't go to school or work Thursday or Friday. I tried various cocktails of cold and sinus medicine and I'm happy to announce that Sudafed (with the pseudoephedrine) plus the generic brand of Zicam nasal spray finally did the trick and cleared up my sinuses and drippy nose. I was so excited to go to bed tonight and not have to breath out of my mouth, preserving my chapped lips and nose. Unfortunately, the miracle cure left me unexpectedly sleepless. I'm supposed to be getting up in about 2 hours. Actually, a sleepless night won't be that bad if the meds continue to keep me awake and alert. I have a full day of exciting events planned that I don't want to miss out on.

One of my very best friends ever, Diane, is getting married tomorrow. Actually today, in 5 hours. We were roommates in Nauvoo. Of the four girls in room 317 from that semester, she's the first to get married. It's a little weird to have our old quartet finally branching out, but I'm SO excited for her. I've seen her through the ups and downs of several relationships over the last four years, and I am pleased to announce I'm fully supportive of her decision to marry Garrett. He's a great guy and absolutely deserves her.

I'm also super excited because she is the first of my close friends to get married geographically close enough that I can attend the festivities! Timing, funding, and distance prevented me from going to any others. I can't attend the ceremony since I'm not yet endowed and she's getting sealed in the Manti Temple, but I'll be as close as I can and waiting outside.

Students from my Semester in Nauvoo always refer to each other as our Nauvoo "family" regardless of how close we were during the semester. We still maintain active relationships four years later, using a website to communicate big news and post pictures. Many of us still check it every day. People ask me a lot about my favorite parts of my semesters abroad, and I think they're often disappointed when I say "the people I was there with." But there's something special about friends we make during formative times in our lives. It's hard to explain, and I usually just say "s/he's a Nauvoo friend" hoping that the right sense of platonic affection we all maintain for each other comes across. They really do feel like a second family of brothers and sisters.

I'm so blessed to have had that experience in Nauvoo, and to have formed those relationships. They're the kind of friends you make for forever: who don't care if you call at 1am, who hurt with you when bad things happen, who celebrate with you when good things happen, who make a pretty good substitute when your family is 800 miles away, and who never stop caring--really caring--about you no matter the difference of space or time or circumstance. They are friends worth keeping. I have 120 such friends. How did I get so lucky?

Redirection

I felt a need to mix this blog up a little bit. Y'know, like the urge you get to just rearrange furniture once in a while? One of my professors would call it fixing the chi. Whatever the reason, I just suddenly felt an urge to purge myself of cutesy pre-fabricated designs and go minimalist. Not void, just minimalist, like Mies. So here, like 860-880 Lake Shore Drive, I strip it down to the basics and building materials. Mies actually coined the phrase "less is more." Bet you didn't know a real someone actually constructed that maxim.

Anyway, my life feels so full that I don't feel a need to flesh it out in digital non-space. This blog is for chronicling my adventures, not simulating my personality.

Excuse me now while I go live my life.

A good day

What an awesome day! We honored our veterans today, including my grandpa. I took my second round of midterms last week (both on the same day, for the second time. ugh.) and got them back today. I got A's on both after precious little time to study! Then my intramural Ultimate Frisbee team played in the quarterfinal round today and dominated! And I wore one of my favorite shirts.

Rocked my tests, rocked Ultimate...basically I rocked at life today.

Tribute to my #1 Reader

Chris and Debbie Copstead, Thanksgiving break '08 at their
surprise 30th wedding anniversary party

My number one reader, Debbie Copstead, passed away on May 10 from ALS, also known as Lou Gehrig's Disease. She and her husband Chris have been great friends to me since I became involved with Coeur d'Alene's Junior Miss program as a junior in high school. Chris was committee co-chair and Debbie was a committee member. For my senior project in high school I volunteered on the committee too and got to know them better. Debbie is one of my biggest fans and always made sure to tell me she was reading my blog and looking at all my pictures. The knowledge that I needed to give her new material was one of the reasons I made sure to post occasionally, even if I didn't think anything worth writing about was happening in my life! Debbie was diagnosed a few years ago with ALS. The illness slowly took away her strength of body but never her mind. It also took away her ability to speak, but we all know I can talk enough for the both of us! She'd write me questions and I'd talk an hour, and before I'd leave she'd tell me "I love you" in sign language. I always visit the Copsteads every time I'm home for vacation. Every visit Debbie downplayed her own trials, excited to know what I was doing in my life and how my family was doing. She always remembered to ask how my brother Scott was feeling. When introducing me to people she always told them I was Coeur d'Alene's prettiest Junior Miss. She always knew how to make people feel good about themselves! I'm sad I didn't get to go right home to Idaho this summer so I could visit with her one more time, but I find comfort in knowing that she's now in a place where she can talk and laugh and live free of her tired body. Someday I'll catch up with her on the other side and we'll have the rest of eternity to talk. Until then, let me know if anyone else is reading this blog. Debbie doesn't need it anymore now that she can watch what I'm doing!

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As for an update on my doings, the research project is coming along. I'm learning a lot. Things are coming together a little differently than I expected, but in a good way. I'll have a lot of good material to use for writing my thesis in the fall. Time is passing quickly and I'm over halfway done. Four weeks down, three to go. Life here isn't as secluded than I thought it would be. I've had the internet to use and we've gone somewhere every weekend so I get caught up on all my phone messages then since I don't get cell service here. We've gone to Saint George for a couple of weddings and a high school graduation for cousins, and one weekend we went up north for my uncle's last concert before he retires as a music teacher. My mom came down for the concert and one of the weddings. It was fun to see her.

We have no more trips planned for now. Maybe I'll get more work done on the weekends! If y'all wonder what I'm actually doing, I spend time each day observing everyday life around her and conducting formal interviews with individuals around town about their lives and their impressions of Orderville. I spend the rest of the day typing up my notes (about 25 single spaced pages a week). All this takes up 30-40 hours a week. It's not bad, just a lot of time in front of a computer. I'll be glad when I'm really out of school for the summer!