I have to admit that I hardly know what's going on in Haiti. We're still under the gun work-wise over here and hardly surface from our computers. I swear the only reason we even know that anything happened is that we were torn from our computers and dragged to our HOA gym by Patience and Viktor Wednesday and the tv happened to be playing the news. It's so sad and it leaves me with mixed emotions. First, I feel horrible for the people who have suffered and who are suffering. It feels like in the wake of such a tragic event, life and all of the good stuff that I'm doing should just stop. I look at Gulliver and Murray and wonder how it would feel to lose them. I wonder how it would feel to lose a lot of the people who I love, all at one moment. And I also feel really helpless. Like there's nothing I can do to fix it or make it better or take it back. It makes me feel bad for the prosperity that I enjoy, guilty for being safe in my house tonight.
How are you coping with this? What are your thoughts?
I also wanted to direct your attention to a couple who are doing an auction of goods and services and are donating the proceeds to Haitian relief efforts. It's worth checking out!
Showing posts with label discussion post. Show all posts
Showing posts with label discussion post. Show all posts
Reflections on Halloween
On Halloween, Murray and I had Murray's brother and wife come over for dinner and an outdoor movie. We couldn't have asked for better weather for our movie (Psycho, a great Halloween movie), except for when it started to rain a little bit. Oh well. Other than the rain it really was ideal.
I wanted to spend the evening at home so that I could give candy (that I can't eat, because I'm just. that. selfless.) to children. A neighbor said that they didn't get many kids last year, so I didn't plan for very many kids, and I certainly didn't want to have leftover candy. When I was candy shopping, I considered my candy choices carefully. I know what I'd want to receive as a kid. There's no use wasting money on the candy that is just going to be thrown away. I briefly considered buying small packs of Doritos, because then I wouldn't even care to give them away because Doritos to me are just a sack of disgustingness. But then my conscience wouldn't let me give something to kids that I would have been so wholly disappointed to receive as a child. So instead, I got a couple bags of mini candy bars, a bag of full Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, a couple bags of Pop Rocks (to mix things up a little), and a bag of gummy Life Savers. And I hope those little kids appreciate what it meant for me to give them all of those candies without sampling so much as one myself.
We got more kids than I was expecting, so I went to the pantry to get out the two 10-packs of kettle corn that I accidentally bought, thinking it was the good kind of popcorn. I thought that the popcorn was the crappy treat, but kids responded really well to it, actually.
But this is the ultimate comment I'd like to make about my candy giving experience. Besides the older kids (older than 12ish) who I didn't feel should be trick-or-treating, there were two real standouts of the evening.
FIRST: When I realized I was running low on candy and needed to get the popcorn, I opened a pack thinking that would get me through ten good kids. With an average of 2 kids per door bell ring, I figured the pack would last me a half hour or so. As soon as I opened it, the doorbell rang and a family with five kids was standing outside my door. Good grief! So I started giving them popcorn, which they were REALLY excited about. Most excited was the mother, who started jumping up and down and saying, "Ooo! Yo quiero! Yo quiero!" And then she held out her hand for me to give her her very own package of popcorn. Just that easily, 60 percent of my popcorn package was gone!
SECOND: There was a mom and dad with their first-time trick-or-treater son, who was about 2 or 3. He, of course, had his own bag for the candy. But guess who else had his own bag? The dad. And so he held his bag out, too, to collect candy. There are no words.
So next year, I will be more prepared. Next year, I am going to have special "too old to be trick-or-treating" treats. I'm thinking of the following options: can of peas, fresh apples, not-fresh tomatoes, an entire watermelon. Any other ideas are welcome!!
Video Phones?
We all remember well the phones that they had in Back to the Future. The image of the person you were talking to appeared on a gigantic screen on the wall. Video phones. They were the future. (Among other things.)
Today video phoning seems well within our grasp. In fact, Murray informs me that it's fairly common in Japan and Korea, but that Americans are a little resistant to this new technology. Murray suggested that people might be uncomfortable with the fact that they can't lie about where they are. If you call, you see the surroundings of the person you're calling. (Ever take a call while you're on the can? "Echo? What echo? Oh... yeah, I'm in a hallway of a big building...)
But I have started thinking about it as it applies to my situation as a stay-at-home professional. Although I have standards and ideals, I don't always live up to my own standards and ideals. For example, ideally, I should shower before I walk across the hall and go to work. But often I go into the office in my pajamas (read: underwear) and work for a few hours. Today, my computer needed an update that required restart, and that (combined with my own stench) convinced me that I should get up and take a shower. So now I'm back in front of my computer, but I haven't done my makeup.
If I lived in a country where video telephone calls were standard, I'd have to reevaluate how I do things. Take a look at this picture. My shirt looks sloppy. I need makeup. I told Murray that the back of his chair is an appropriate place to keep his painting tshirt, but if clients can see it, it's sloppy and unprofessional. (Murray, until the standardization of the video phone, I still approve of you using your chair as painting shirt storage.) I'd need to make sure that my office is tidy every day. I'd need to evaluate what art projects are on the peg board. In fact, I'd probably have to do away with the peg board altogether and put up something more professional like bookshelves.
So right now, even though the video phone seems like a next logical step, it actually would make my life less convenient right now. And for the rest of the growing number of telecommuters and work at home professionals as well, I think!
Murray and I have been talking about creating a time capsule of 10- (or 15?) year predictions of what the future will be like. I'm going to have to consider the idea of the video phone very carefully before I add it to my list of things I expect to see in 2018. Maybe in 2018, from my well-organized perfectly tidy office, I will (in full dress and makeup) be rereading this post and laughing at my reticence to accept this new techology.
Today video phoning seems well within our grasp. In fact, Murray informs me that it's fairly common in Japan and Korea, but that Americans are a little resistant to this new technology. Murray suggested that people might be uncomfortable with the fact that they can't lie about where they are. If you call, you see the surroundings of the person you're calling. (Ever take a call while you're on the can? "Echo? What echo? Oh... yeah, I'm in a hallway of a big building...)
But I have started thinking about it as it applies to my situation as a stay-at-home professional. Although I have standards and ideals, I don't always live up to my own standards and ideals. For example, ideally, I should shower before I walk across the hall and go to work. But often I go into the office in my pajamas (read: underwear) and work for a few hours. Today, my computer needed an update that required restart, and that (combined with my own stench) convinced me that I should get up and take a shower. So now I'm back in front of my computer, but I haven't done my makeup.
If I lived in a country where video telephone calls were standard, I'd have to reevaluate how I do things. Take a look at this picture. My shirt looks sloppy. I need makeup. I told Murray that the back of his chair is an appropriate place to keep his painting tshirt, but if clients can see it, it's sloppy and unprofessional. (Murray, until the standardization of the video phone, I still approve of you using your chair as painting shirt storage.) I'd need to make sure that my office is tidy every day. I'd need to evaluate what art projects are on the peg board. In fact, I'd probably have to do away with the peg board altogether and put up something more professional like bookshelves.
So right now, even though the video phone seems like a next logical step, it actually would make my life less convenient right now. And for the rest of the growing number of telecommuters and work at home professionals as well, I think!
Murray and I have been talking about creating a time capsule of 10- (or 15?) year predictions of what the future will be like. I'm going to have to consider the idea of the video phone very carefully before I add it to my list of things I expect to see in 2018. Maybe in 2018, from my well-organized perfectly tidy office, I will (in full dress and makeup) be rereading this post and laughing at my reticence to accept this new techology.
Like Sunscreen for Your Insides
One of the things that I love about being married to Murray is that we get to pick apart and criticize billboards together. I specialize in the words and graphic design. Murray specializes in the photography. Heck. Maybe we should just open our own billboard company.
Here are just a few brief examples:
* A billboard that says you can get dirty or something. It shows a left-handed mouse user with dirty hands. PROBLEMS: 1) Never show a left-handed mouse user on a billboard. It looks contrived and is unnecessary, and we all know that you did it because you felt it fit your design better. 2) The idea of getting dirty and the image of a dirty hand on a mouse looked more like a metaphor for pornography addiction. In actuality, the billboard was advertising some outdoorsy program at UVSC (now UVU).
* A billboard for some charitable sort of thing that has a portrait of an African on it. The portrait got your attention for sure, but unfortunately the font size and layout of the rest of the billboard was too small to read while you were zooming past on the freeway. These billboards were all over the place, which indicated that the charity spent a lot of money on the campaign, but due to illegibility, most of that money was likely wasted.
* DearElder.com. This example requires a little more background. First of all, you have to know who Kirby Heyborne is. He is a Mormon actor who was in a lot of Mormon movies. Second, you need to know about stock photography. If you are a stock photography model, your image can be bought and used by anyone. Remember that Friends episode where Joey is the poster boy for VD? Right. Well, before Kirby Heyborne got "famous" he modeled for some stock photography. And after he was famous in the Mormon community, other companies were able to buy the rights to his portrait because of his stock photographs. Basically, they could get celebrity endorsement for cheap. One of these companies was DearElder.com, and they proudly displayed Kirby Heyborne's face on their DearElder billboard for years and years. And years. As he got greener and greener in the forehead. Poor, poor Kirby. Recently, the DearElder.com billboard was taken down. But a few months later, it was back up on the Southbound I-15. But then something fishy happened. Suddenly the billboard the DearElder.com had paid money to put back up was replaced. What? Kirby Heyborne's face no longer endorsed the company. What changed? They'd just paid good money to put Kirby BACK UP? Could it have been this beer commercial where Kirby has two lines? "West?"
Maybe. All I know is that the beer commercial came out, and suddenly Kirby went down and DearElder's new billboard was campaigning for a NEW FACE to represent DearElder. Hopefully a non-beer-drinking face.
The billboard looks something like this, which is from their website:
My final example and the title of this post comes from a billboard that Murray and I saw while driving through Las Vegas. It was so nonsensical that I had to pause the podcast we were listening to and focus all of our combined attention to figuring out what Coca-Cola might have meant by this campaign. The billboard said: Coca-Cola. Like Sunscreen for Your Insides.
Excuse me? Let's think about this for a moment. In what way is Coca-Cola like sunscreen for your insides?
PROTECTION: Sunscreen protects your skin from the sun. Coca-Cola.... um.... rots your stomach lining and probably causes cancer or something.
REFRESHING: Coca-Cola is refreshing. Sunscreen.... um.... goes on your skin like lotion.
ABSTRACT/VS. TANGIBLE: Coca-Cola is a tangible thing. Sunscreen is a tangible thing. Your insides are a tangible thing. So maybe Coca-Cola would have done better to throw in some abstract concept there. Like Coca-Cola is like Sunshine for Your Insides. Coca-Cola is like Happiness for your Insides. Instead, Coca-Cola is compared to suncreen, another liquid, which make me and Murray imagine ourselves drinking sunscreen. For our insides.
So basically, if you are going to put up a billboard any time soon, consider contacting me and Murray because we can help your billboard not to suck. And we'll only charge you $4000 for our non-sucking services.
Here are just a few brief examples:
* A billboard that says you can get dirty or something. It shows a left-handed mouse user with dirty hands. PROBLEMS: 1) Never show a left-handed mouse user on a billboard. It looks contrived and is unnecessary, and we all know that you did it because you felt it fit your design better. 2) The idea of getting dirty and the image of a dirty hand on a mouse looked more like a metaphor for pornography addiction. In actuality, the billboard was advertising some outdoorsy program at UVSC (now UVU).
* A billboard for some charitable sort of thing that has a portrait of an African on it. The portrait got your attention for sure, but unfortunately the font size and layout of the rest of the billboard was too small to read while you were zooming past on the freeway. These billboards were all over the place, which indicated that the charity spent a lot of money on the campaign, but due to illegibility, most of that money was likely wasted.
* DearElder.com. This example requires a little more background. First of all, you have to know who Kirby Heyborne is. He is a Mormon actor who was in a lot of Mormon movies. Second, you need to know about stock photography. If you are a stock photography model, your image can be bought and used by anyone. Remember that Friends episode where Joey is the poster boy for VD? Right. Well, before Kirby Heyborne got "famous" he modeled for some stock photography. And after he was famous in the Mormon community, other companies were able to buy the rights to his portrait because of his stock photographs. Basically, they could get celebrity endorsement for cheap. One of these companies was DearElder.com, and they proudly displayed Kirby Heyborne's face on their DearElder billboard for years and years. And years. As he got greener and greener in the forehead. Poor, poor Kirby. Recently, the DearElder.com billboard was taken down. But a few months later, it was back up on the Southbound I-15. But then something fishy happened. Suddenly the billboard the DearElder.com had paid money to put back up was replaced. What? Kirby Heyborne's face no longer endorsed the company. What changed? They'd just paid good money to put Kirby BACK UP? Could it have been this beer commercial where Kirby has two lines? "West?"
Maybe. All I know is that the beer commercial came out, and suddenly Kirby went down and DearElder's new billboard was campaigning for a NEW FACE to represent DearElder. Hopefully a non-beer-drinking face.
The billboard looks something like this, which is from their website:
My final example and the title of this post comes from a billboard that Murray and I saw while driving through Las Vegas. It was so nonsensical that I had to pause the podcast we were listening to and focus all of our combined attention to figuring out what Coca-Cola might have meant by this campaign. The billboard said: Coca-Cola. Like Sunscreen for Your Insides.
Excuse me? Let's think about this for a moment. In what way is Coca-Cola like sunscreen for your insides?
PROTECTION: Sunscreen protects your skin from the sun. Coca-Cola.... um.... rots your stomach lining and probably causes cancer or something.
REFRESHING: Coca-Cola is refreshing. Sunscreen.... um.... goes on your skin like lotion.
ABSTRACT/VS. TANGIBLE: Coca-Cola is a tangible thing. Sunscreen is a tangible thing. Your insides are a tangible thing. So maybe Coca-Cola would have done better to throw in some abstract concept there. Like Coca-Cola is like Sunshine for Your Insides. Coca-Cola is like Happiness for your Insides. Instead, Coca-Cola is compared to suncreen, another liquid, which make me and Murray imagine ourselves drinking sunscreen. For our insides.
So basically, if you are going to put up a billboard any time soon, consider contacting me and Murray because we can help your billboard not to suck. And we'll only charge you $4000 for our non-sucking services.
More on death (Moron death)
Okay, okay. I know I've got a death theme going here, and that's not intentional. But hear me out one more time, and then I'll move on to complaining about ward members who take advantage of your profession for their own personal non-church-related projects.
One of my biggest fears is causing an accidental death in a car accident. What I'm talking about is something completely out of my control. Like someone crashing into me (and dying) or a bike suddenly darting right in front of my car, etc. And then the person dies. I think that I'd need serious therapy. I mean, I would know that it's not my fault and it's just a freak accident, but forever more, I would have to question, did I have to go out right that moment to get a milkshake or [insert any banal activity here].
In fact, I listened to an episode of This American Life called "Life After Death" the other day, and it talks about those who survive after having killed someone else. And a really really interesting comment from a psychologist was that when a car accident that takes someone's life is completely accidental and no fault whatsoever of the driver's, the driver suffers more psychologically because of it. He explains that if an accident is caused because of driver fault (drunk driving, drowsy driving, etc.) then the driver has something that he or she can fix. The driver can choose never to drink and drive again, or choose to pull over when drowsy instead of pushing on. But a driver who has done nothing wrong at all but caused a death has nothing to fix or change. That makes a lot of sense to me.
Anyway. Why this post? Last night as Murray and I were driving on the freeway at 65 mph, a motorcyclist zoomed past us. He was going at least 80 or 85. It was night. It was dark. He wasn't wearing a helmet. And he was wearing sun glasses.
What makes me angry about the whole thing is that if I get in an accident with that guy and he definitely dies (see aforementioned speed and no-helmet status), then that's on my conscience for the rest of my life. But it would be his reckless behavior that caused it. I get angry that people can be so casual about their own lives, and really, they think that they're the only ones impacted by their decisions. It's really stupid. They're really stupid.
And what ticks me off, too, is that there was a police cruiser behind us shortly after the motorcyclist went by. It would have made my night to see the motorcyclist get a ticket. Alas. The police must not have seen it.
One of my biggest fears is causing an accidental death in a car accident. What I'm talking about is something completely out of my control. Like someone crashing into me (and dying) or a bike suddenly darting right in front of my car, etc. And then the person dies. I think that I'd need serious therapy. I mean, I would know that it's not my fault and it's just a freak accident, but forever more, I would have to question, did I have to go out right that moment to get a milkshake or [insert any banal activity here].
In fact, I listened to an episode of This American Life called "Life After Death" the other day, and it talks about those who survive after having killed someone else. And a really really interesting comment from a psychologist was that when a car accident that takes someone's life is completely accidental and no fault whatsoever of the driver's, the driver suffers more psychologically because of it. He explains that if an accident is caused because of driver fault (drunk driving, drowsy driving, etc.) then the driver has something that he or she can fix. The driver can choose never to drink and drive again, or choose to pull over when drowsy instead of pushing on. But a driver who has done nothing wrong at all but caused a death has nothing to fix or change. That makes a lot of sense to me.
Anyway. Why this post? Last night as Murray and I were driving on the freeway at 65 mph, a motorcyclist zoomed past us. He was going at least 80 or 85. It was night. It was dark. He wasn't wearing a helmet. And he was wearing sun glasses.
What makes me angry about the whole thing is that if I get in an accident with that guy and he definitely dies (see aforementioned speed and no-helmet status), then that's on my conscience for the rest of my life. But it would be his reckless behavior that caused it. I get angry that people can be so casual about their own lives, and really, they think that they're the only ones impacted by their decisions. It's really stupid. They're really stupid.
And what ticks me off, too, is that there was a police cruiser behind us shortly after the motorcyclist went by. It would have made my night to see the motorcyclist get a ticket. Alas. The police must not have seen it.
Life and Death
Well, we've been talking a lot about new life here on my blog lately. Let's switch it up a little. Let's get morbid.
Sometime after Murray and I got married, we got onto the subject of dying and funerals. And this has sparked a great debate and conversation between us. At times we agree with one another, and at times we don't quite see eye to eye. So let's talk death a little.
What bugs me about the whole dying thing is that a funeral costs a heck of a lot of money. It sounds to me like a heck of a lot more money might be spent on my funeral than was spent on my wedding. And that doesn't really sit right with me.
Now as I go into the details a little bit about money and dying, please remember that really, I'm mostly talking about me dying. I'm not talking about my loved ones. I'm talking about how I would like to be treated when I have died. These are my wishes. If my loved ones have different wishes, I am absolutely happy to accommodate them. But as far as my funeral is concerned, well...
When it comes right down to it, I'd rather be cremated than buried. My religion discourages (but doesn't forbid) cremation, and I'm not quite sure I understand why. I figure that if God can successfully resurrect someone who's been devoured by a shark and pooped out, and then the poop has been devoured by other fish and so on, then He's got to be capable of resurrecting a burn victim, too. And really... is a bunch of ashes that much more difficult than a full skeleton and decomposed flesh? Murray doesn't like the idea of a body burning. I don't think it's any worse than worms, maggots, fungus, etc. (Or sharks.)
In our discussions, however, I have agreed that I can forgo cremation and be buried. BUT, if I'm buried, I don't want a several thousand dollar casket!! What's the point?? The casket can communicate to others how much you love/value the deceased. But should my family have to spend several thousand dollars on something that's going to be buried in the ground just to prove to our neighbors that they loved me? What if at my viewing, they displayed me in a pine box with my dead little hands clutching $5000? Would that have the same effect? Would people know that my family loved me because that's how much money they buried me with?
Rather than an expensive casket, what I would love the most is a pine box painted by Murray. I believe that that shows love and has more meaning than money. Of course, if I died before Murray, he'd really be in no mood to paint a casket with everything else that he has to do for my death. So what we ultimately concluded was that we could get the LIDS to our pine boxes and paint them together! During our lifetime! And then, when we die, they'll be ready to be buried with us. That sounds much better to me than the expensive casket. (By the way, it's okay to toss in some nice pillows and bedding, but let's make them colorful, too, okay? None of this pearly white stuff. Give me some flava.)
Murray and I are responsible people. We have life insurance policies. So no, I hope that it's not a financial burden for little Br8'en and his siblings when the time comes. But I'd rather them not spend all my life insurance money on my funeral. What I would prefer the most, is that the family use that money to go on a family vacation, or if that's too much to coordinate (after we have 10 kids and they each have 10, that's a lot of people to vacation with), at least go out for a really really nice dinner together. That's what I'd rather they spend the money on. Spend time together. Don't spend the money on a wooden box for me to rot in.
This is about as far as Murray and I got in our discussions. Soon after our pine box decision, Murray found out that there are laws about the casket and our homemade pine boxes wouldn't cut it. I was pretty sad about that, but yesterday I heard part of Radio West's discussion about the modern funeral industry. Today I listened to the full audio. It's really, really fascinating! And it turns out that there's a guy in Park City who makes pine boxes up to standard! Now to see if he'll sell us a couple lids for now...
So anyway, I started talking about all of this to my mom this morning, and then she told me the darndest thing I have ever heard. She said that you can be cremated and give your ashes to a company who will turn your earthly remains into...
a...
DIAMOND.
Then, of course, she wondered what the surviving children do with the diamond. Who gets to wear Mom? Or do you set the diamond in a Christmas ornament and take it out once a year? Something to consider.
When it comes right down to it, I believe that the choice of how I am buried and honored should be more up to my actual mourners than me. Sure, I've just stated my preferences (not the diamond---the painted pine box and low-budget funeral), but I'll be dead at that point. I don't want to impose my way of mourning on people who would be uncomfortable with it. So what I think I'll do is just describe what I'd like in my last will and testament, explain why, talk about how it's important to me that more money be spent on family time than on what's being put into the ground, and let them know that they can make their own decisions.
And before I end this whole spiel, I'll add that I really think that a funeral can be a great party. Of course, I totally understand that if I go tomorrow, probably no one would be partying. But if I go at a ripe old age and everyone is expecting it, then I hope my survivors can miss me but celebrate me at the same time, and enjoy spending time with one another. My grandma's funeral a year and a half ago was a great event. I loved spending time with family and friends. We had a fantastic time together. We also cried and were sad that Grandma was gone. And that is the way I really feel it should be.
That being said, if I go before my time, and am eaten by a shark, and then pooped out, and my shark-poop remains are eaten by other fish, I really hope that people can see the humor in that, because what a way to go! (And feel free to catch the shark and have it stuffed and mounted on a wall.)
Sometime after Murray and I got married, we got onto the subject of dying and funerals. And this has sparked a great debate and conversation between us. At times we agree with one another, and at times we don't quite see eye to eye. So let's talk death a little.
What bugs me about the whole dying thing is that a funeral costs a heck of a lot of money. It sounds to me like a heck of a lot more money might be spent on my funeral than was spent on my wedding. And that doesn't really sit right with me.
Now as I go into the details a little bit about money and dying, please remember that really, I'm mostly talking about me dying. I'm not talking about my loved ones. I'm talking about how I would like to be treated when I have died. These are my wishes. If my loved ones have different wishes, I am absolutely happy to accommodate them. But as far as my funeral is concerned, well...
When it comes right down to it, I'd rather be cremated than buried. My religion discourages (but doesn't forbid) cremation, and I'm not quite sure I understand why. I figure that if God can successfully resurrect someone who's been devoured by a shark and pooped out, and then the poop has been devoured by other fish and so on, then He's got to be capable of resurrecting a burn victim, too. And really... is a bunch of ashes that much more difficult than a full skeleton and decomposed flesh? Murray doesn't like the idea of a body burning. I don't think it's any worse than worms, maggots, fungus, etc. (Or sharks.)
In our discussions, however, I have agreed that I can forgo cremation and be buried. BUT, if I'm buried, I don't want a several thousand dollar casket!! What's the point?? The casket can communicate to others how much you love/value the deceased. But should my family have to spend several thousand dollars on something that's going to be buried in the ground just to prove to our neighbors that they loved me? What if at my viewing, they displayed me in a pine box with my dead little hands clutching $5000? Would that have the same effect? Would people know that my family loved me because that's how much money they buried me with?
Rather than an expensive casket, what I would love the most is a pine box painted by Murray. I believe that that shows love and has more meaning than money. Of course, if I died before Murray, he'd really be in no mood to paint a casket with everything else that he has to do for my death. So what we ultimately concluded was that we could get the LIDS to our pine boxes and paint them together! During our lifetime! And then, when we die, they'll be ready to be buried with us. That sounds much better to me than the expensive casket. (By the way, it's okay to toss in some nice pillows and bedding, but let's make them colorful, too, okay? None of this pearly white stuff. Give me some flava.)
Murray and I are responsible people. We have life insurance policies. So no, I hope that it's not a financial burden for little Br8'en and his siblings when the time comes. But I'd rather them not spend all my life insurance money on my funeral. What I would prefer the most, is that the family use that money to go on a family vacation, or if that's too much to coordinate (after we have 10 kids and they each have 10, that's a lot of people to vacation with), at least go out for a really really nice dinner together. That's what I'd rather they spend the money on. Spend time together. Don't spend the money on a wooden box for me to rot in.
This is about as far as Murray and I got in our discussions. Soon after our pine box decision, Murray found out that there are laws about the casket and our homemade pine boxes wouldn't cut it. I was pretty sad about that, but yesterday I heard part of Radio West's discussion about the modern funeral industry. Today I listened to the full audio. It's really, really fascinating! And it turns out that there's a guy in Park City who makes pine boxes up to standard! Now to see if he'll sell us a couple lids for now...
So anyway, I started talking about all of this to my mom this morning, and then she told me the darndest thing I have ever heard. She said that you can be cremated and give your ashes to a company who will turn your earthly remains into...
a...
DIAMOND.
Then, of course, she wondered what the surviving children do with the diamond. Who gets to wear Mom? Or do you set the diamond in a Christmas ornament and take it out once a year? Something to consider.
When it comes right down to it, I believe that the choice of how I am buried and honored should be more up to my actual mourners than me. Sure, I've just stated my preferences (not the diamond---the painted pine box and low-budget funeral), but I'll be dead at that point. I don't want to impose my way of mourning on people who would be uncomfortable with it. So what I think I'll do is just describe what I'd like in my last will and testament, explain why, talk about how it's important to me that more money be spent on family time than on what's being put into the ground, and let them know that they can make their own decisions.
And before I end this whole spiel, I'll add that I really think that a funeral can be a great party. Of course, I totally understand that if I go tomorrow, probably no one would be partying. But if I go at a ripe old age and everyone is expecting it, then I hope my survivors can miss me but celebrate me at the same time, and enjoy spending time with one another. My grandma's funeral a year and a half ago was a great event. I loved spending time with family and friends. We had a fantastic time together. We also cried and were sad that Grandma was gone. And that is the way I really feel it should be.
That being said, if I go before my time, and am eaten by a shark, and then pooped out, and my shark-poop remains are eaten by other fish, I really hope that people can see the humor in that, because what a way to go! (And feel free to catch the shark and have it stuffed and mounted on a wall.)
Bajio, Costa Vida, Cafe Rio
Today I was really craving Costa Vida. It's close to work. And my lunch-default friend, TOWR, inconsiderately made other plans for lunch today. So I had to go alone. I thought I'd beat the lunch rush, but instead managed to get there right at the busiest time. Luckily, I had my bookclub book with me. I hate my bookclub book this month, but I'm reading it anyway, so that I can give an informed opinion when we meet this month. It's just awkward that I was reading the first racy scene I've encountered in the novel when my boss's boss's boss's boss said hello to me and took a moment to chat. I'm really glad that he didn't ask me what I was reading, because I would have had to tell him it was absolute crap. Want proof?
She looked at him intently, perhaps trying to decide how rude his comment had been. There was steel in her blue eyes, steel so cold that it chilled you.
Need I say more? The book is a steaming pile of crap, crap so steaming that it gets into your nostrils and smells like steaming crap.
Anyway. That's all SO off topic. What I wanted to discuss were three restaurants: Bajio, Costa Vida, and Cafe Rio.
Bajio:
Of these three restaurants, Bajio is my favorite. Some people don't understand that you don't order your normal fare at Bajio. If you want a burrito, go to one of the other two. Here are my top three recommendations for Bajio. There's basically no other reason to go.
1) The shrimp tacos. With sweet rice. The shrimp is cooked in honey butter and topped with mango salsa. As you eat them, let the sweet juices drip into the rice. Then eat the rice. It's divine.
2) The green chili chicken quesadilla. Sooooo good.
3) If you're watching what you eat, try the green chili chicken salad. However, unlike salads from most of these places, it doesn't come with rice or beans, so it can be much less filling than the other burrito bar salads.
Costa Vida:
This is my second-favorite restaurant of the three, but it's probably pretty closely tied with Cafe Rio. I think that both restaurants are pretty similar, actually. My recommendations:
1) The sweet pork enchiladas with mango. That is what I am eating RIGHT NOW. It's basically like a meat dessert.
2) The chicken salad with the cilantro vinaigrette. Pretty typical, but pretty good.
Since I imagine most of you are most familiar with Cafe Rio, I won't really put my favorites or anything. I just kindof get what I'm feeling in the mood for there, but I am never really wowed, and I never really crave it.
I'd love to hear about your favorites, though.
She looked at him intently, perhaps trying to decide how rude his comment had been. There was steel in her blue eyes, steel so cold that it chilled you.
Need I say more? The book is a steaming pile of crap, crap so steaming that it gets into your nostrils and smells like steaming crap.
Anyway. That's all SO off topic. What I wanted to discuss were three restaurants: Bajio, Costa Vida, and Cafe Rio.
Bajio:
Of these three restaurants, Bajio is my favorite. Some people don't understand that you don't order your normal fare at Bajio. If you want a burrito, go to one of the other two. Here are my top three recommendations for Bajio. There's basically no other reason to go.
1) The shrimp tacos. With sweet rice. The shrimp is cooked in honey butter and topped with mango salsa. As you eat them, let the sweet juices drip into the rice. Then eat the rice. It's divine.
2) The green chili chicken quesadilla. Sooooo good.
3) If you're watching what you eat, try the green chili chicken salad. However, unlike salads from most of these places, it doesn't come with rice or beans, so it can be much less filling than the other burrito bar salads.
Costa Vida:
This is my second-favorite restaurant of the three, but it's probably pretty closely tied with Cafe Rio. I think that both restaurants are pretty similar, actually. My recommendations:
1) The sweet pork enchiladas with mango. That is what I am eating RIGHT NOW. It's basically like a meat dessert.
2) The chicken salad with the cilantro vinaigrette. Pretty typical, but pretty good.
Since I imagine most of you are most familiar with Cafe Rio, I won't really put my favorites or anything. I just kindof get what I'm feeling in the mood for there, but I am never really wowed, and I never really crave it.
I'd love to hear about your favorites, though.
It's a girl!
Don't get too excited. We're still a long ways off from finding out the sex of our child. But for various reasons, we suspect the child will be a girl. (I'd go into the studies that say female sperm are stronger and therefore if you have sex a few days before ovulation, you're more likely to have a girl, and male sperm are faster, so if you have sex during ovulation, you're more likely to have a boy, but you probably don't want to think about all that nitty gritty in regards to me and Murray.)
But there is new evidence that we'll be having a girl. Murray's coworker's wife claims that this Chinese birth calendar has been true for everyone she knows. Has it been true for you? Read the instructions carefully.
(By the way, the baby is due a couple weeks after my birthday... so I guess if it comes early, we're having a boy!)
(NOTE: If this Chinese birth calendar works, then the Chinese people could more easily avoid having baby girls... so I'm saying it probably is not too accurate.)
But there is new evidence that we'll be having a girl. Murray's coworker's wife claims that this Chinese birth calendar has been true for everyone she knows. Has it been true for you? Read the instructions carefully.
(By the way, the baby is due a couple weeks after my birthday... so I guess if it comes early, we're having a boy!)
(NOTE: If this Chinese birth calendar works, then the Chinese people could more easily avoid having baby girls... so I'm saying it probably is not too accurate.)
My Mom Is Cooler Than Me
So yesterday I was talking to Dr. Rice, who told me that she'd just finally signed up for Facebook to see a friend's pictures this week. Then she asked me to guess who the first person was to add her as a friend, write on her wall, and welcome her to Facebook.
My mom.
That's right everyone. My mom is cooler than I am. Dr. Rice also added that my mom has lots of friends. When I talked to my mom about it this morning, she admitted to me that she wrote and erased her message to Dr. Rice about fifteen times, because she wanted to write something clever, but couldn't come up with anything clever, and she was crippled with fear because she'd just read an article in the Washington Post about how kids hate it that their parents use Facebook and add their friends and stuff. But really, it was talking about high school kids, not PhD graduates. After agonizing over what to write on Dr. Rice's page, my mom finally settled with "Welcome!"
I don't even use Facebook. I know that it's slowly taking over the world, but I reserve my right to resist that as long as possible. I actually did have a brief stint on Facebook. I tried it out for one week, and it was the most awful, agonizing, painful week of my life. Here are the reasons I don't like it:
1) It seems like it would be a time sucker. I have enough problems keeping up my blog and emailing people back who email me. If I have a Facebook page, that's a whole new thing that I need to maintain. And during my one week Facebook experience, it invaded my entire life. Every time a Facebook notification would appear in my email, I'd cringe. People were adding me right and left and I couldn't keep up. I couldn't imagine maintaining such a beast on a full time basis.
2) It breeds and grows and breeds and grows. Suddenly, during my one week on Facebook, I found myself connected to people with whom I'd lost all contact, or with whom I'd never had much contact in the first place. I was unable to reject people who wanted to add me as a friend---how could I be so rude? And then I became increasingly panicked about Facebook's ability to increase my chances of offending someone. What if I added them as a friend, but never wrote on their wall? What if we viewed our friendship differently, and they were so pleased to be reconnected with a long lost friend and I was not actually all that excited? It seemed to me that while most of the people I was more than happy to be reconnected with, there would come a time when people that I no longer wanted to be connected with would try to add me as a friend, and I didn't actually want to be put in that awkward situation.
3) It gives everyone I've ever known information about my whole life. At the time that I tried Facebook out, I had not yet met Murray. And as more and more people I'd grown up with back home were adding me as a friend, I couldn't help but think about the fact that of my age group in church, I was still the only one who was not married or in a long-term, committed relationship. And I hated the fact that anyone I'd ever known could look at my page and say, "Oh, yeah, Cicada. She's still not married and she's not dating anyone either. And she's gained weight." Because let's be honest. People say and think those kinds of things. I also didn't like that when people added me as friends, they could list their type of relationship with me. An old boyfriend listed me as "We used to date, but we're now just friends" or something like that, and I really didn't like the idea that people who I was barely connected with anymore could just look through my friends and figure out my dating history. Or figure out any sort of history. What if one day my professor added me and said, "I used to teach her editing. She never came to class and I gave her a D." (That last one is facetious, but you get my point.)
After trying it out for one week, like I'd promised a friend I'd do, I erased my account completely. They don't really allow you to do that easily---I had to email them and ask them to delete all my account details so that my account was gone, not just dormant.
There's a part of me that is afraid that I'm going to have to get back on some day. It's growing and taking over the world, and I think that I might not be able to avoid it forever. The new generation---those kids who are still in high school---value networks and connectivity. This is their culture, and it's spreading to everyone.
If I resist, am I going to be like old people who refuse to learn to use computers?
My mom.
That's right everyone. My mom is cooler than I am. Dr. Rice also added that my mom has lots of friends. When I talked to my mom about it this morning, she admitted to me that she wrote and erased her message to Dr. Rice about fifteen times, because she wanted to write something clever, but couldn't come up with anything clever, and she was crippled with fear because she'd just read an article in the Washington Post about how kids hate it that their parents use Facebook and add their friends and stuff. But really, it was talking about high school kids, not PhD graduates. After agonizing over what to write on Dr. Rice's page, my mom finally settled with "Welcome!"
I don't even use Facebook. I know that it's slowly taking over the world, but I reserve my right to resist that as long as possible. I actually did have a brief stint on Facebook. I tried it out for one week, and it was the most awful, agonizing, painful week of my life. Here are the reasons I don't like it:
1) It seems like it would be a time sucker. I have enough problems keeping up my blog and emailing people back who email me. If I have a Facebook page, that's a whole new thing that I need to maintain. And during my one week Facebook experience, it invaded my entire life. Every time a Facebook notification would appear in my email, I'd cringe. People were adding me right and left and I couldn't keep up. I couldn't imagine maintaining such a beast on a full time basis.
2) It breeds and grows and breeds and grows. Suddenly, during my one week on Facebook, I found myself connected to people with whom I'd lost all contact, or with whom I'd never had much contact in the first place. I was unable to reject people who wanted to add me as a friend---how could I be so rude? And then I became increasingly panicked about Facebook's ability to increase my chances of offending someone. What if I added them as a friend, but never wrote on their wall? What if we viewed our friendship differently, and they were so pleased to be reconnected with a long lost friend and I was not actually all that excited? It seemed to me that while most of the people I was more than happy to be reconnected with, there would come a time when people that I no longer wanted to be connected with would try to add me as a friend, and I didn't actually want to be put in that awkward situation.
3) It gives everyone I've ever known information about my whole life. At the time that I tried Facebook out, I had not yet met Murray. And as more and more people I'd grown up with back home were adding me as a friend, I couldn't help but think about the fact that of my age group in church, I was still the only one who was not married or in a long-term, committed relationship. And I hated the fact that anyone I'd ever known could look at my page and say, "Oh, yeah, Cicada. She's still not married and she's not dating anyone either. And she's gained weight." Because let's be honest. People say and think those kinds of things. I also didn't like that when people added me as friends, they could list their type of relationship with me. An old boyfriend listed me as "We used to date, but we're now just friends" or something like that, and I really didn't like the idea that people who I was barely connected with anymore could just look through my friends and figure out my dating history. Or figure out any sort of history. What if one day my professor added me and said, "I used to teach her editing. She never came to class and I gave her a D." (That last one is facetious, but you get my point.)
After trying it out for one week, like I'd promised a friend I'd do, I erased my account completely. They don't really allow you to do that easily---I had to email them and ask them to delete all my account details so that my account was gone, not just dormant.
There's a part of me that is afraid that I'm going to have to get back on some day. It's growing and taking over the world, and I think that I might not be able to avoid it forever. The new generation---those kids who are still in high school---value networks and connectivity. This is their culture, and it's spreading to everyone.
If I resist, am I going to be like old people who refuse to learn to use computers?
Commence Indignation
I have a friend. We'll call her Polly.
Polly is one of my favorite people. She is kind, smart, pretty, friendly, fun, and dresses well. Really, it's a winning combination. If I were a guy, I'd date her.
Apparently not all guys think the way I think guys should think.
When I asked Polly about the guy she's been dating over the past month or so, she told me that they broke things off this weekend. I asked why. She said that he came over to visit her one evening and asked her where she thought things were going. She thought this was going to be a "good talk." Then he said that he had some concerns about her.
1) She's vain.
First of all, Polly is not what I would call a vain person. She is certainly pretty, and she does a great job of staying in shape and wearing fantastic clothes. But she's very down-to-earth. When she shared his first point with me, she said, "I only shop sales!!" She also pointed out that this conversation took place while she was wearing shorts and a sweatshirt. She also said that on their first date, when he was talking about what he valued in women, he mentioned that his wife had to be beautiful. I don't think that you can be more beautiful and down-to-earth than Polly. This guy is crazy. (And I'm glad that the craziness came out this early so that they could break things off!)
2) She has a low standard for the company she keeps.
Polly is the only active LDS member of her family. A lot of her friends aren't members of the church. One thing that has always impressed me about Polly is her ability to accept people as they are. I think that it's admirable that she doesn't pass judgment on others just because they make different choices than she does. She doesn't let their actions influence her, either. She honors her beliefs. She also wants to date good members of the church and marry someone who has the same beliefs and lifestyle that she does. That sounds pretty grounded to me. This guy indicated that she should not allow anyone to practice anything that is not in line with her beliefs in front of her, and gave the example that if he is in a bar, he expects everyone to refrain from swearing and expects the bartender to not offer him any alcoholic beverage because the bartender needs to respect his beliefs.
I may add here that this guy is a beer delivery man. So while he's judging Polly for associating with people who drink, he's stocking the city with alcohol.
3) She works too much.
Polly works a full time job. She also does some freelance reporting on the side. In addition to that, she teaches a dance class and does volunteer work. To me, that all looks impressive. It shows an ability to manage time well (and since she's so happy all the time, you know that she's got some good balance in her life). To him, this kind of work ethic, initiative, and income is too much. And I guess in this point I must concede. I totally understand how a beer deliverer would be threatened by her accomplishments and success.
After bringing up all these issues, Polly said that she'd be willing to go 50-50 with him and try to reach a compromise (that may be Polly's only mistake in this whole thing because in my opinion, she should have kicked him out on the curb after he brought up his three concerns). He told her, "Your faults are my mountains and I will die on those mountains before I will ever compromise."
We can only hope that he finds some mountains to die on.
Polly is one of my favorite people. She is kind, smart, pretty, friendly, fun, and dresses well. Really, it's a winning combination. If I were a guy, I'd date her.
Apparently not all guys think the way I think guys should think.
When I asked Polly about the guy she's been dating over the past month or so, she told me that they broke things off this weekend. I asked why. She said that he came over to visit her one evening and asked her where she thought things were going. She thought this was going to be a "good talk." Then he said that he had some concerns about her.
1) She's vain.
First of all, Polly is not what I would call a vain person. She is certainly pretty, and she does a great job of staying in shape and wearing fantastic clothes. But she's very down-to-earth. When she shared his first point with me, she said, "I only shop sales!!" She also pointed out that this conversation took place while she was wearing shorts and a sweatshirt. She also said that on their first date, when he was talking about what he valued in women, he mentioned that his wife had to be beautiful. I don't think that you can be more beautiful and down-to-earth than Polly. This guy is crazy. (And I'm glad that the craziness came out this early so that they could break things off!)
2) She has a low standard for the company she keeps.
Polly is the only active LDS member of her family. A lot of her friends aren't members of the church. One thing that has always impressed me about Polly is her ability to accept people as they are. I think that it's admirable that she doesn't pass judgment on others just because they make different choices than she does. She doesn't let their actions influence her, either. She honors her beliefs. She also wants to date good members of the church and marry someone who has the same beliefs and lifestyle that she does. That sounds pretty grounded to me. This guy indicated that she should not allow anyone to practice anything that is not in line with her beliefs in front of her, and gave the example that if he is in a bar, he expects everyone to refrain from swearing and expects the bartender to not offer him any alcoholic beverage because the bartender needs to respect his beliefs.
I may add here that this guy is a beer delivery man. So while he's judging Polly for associating with people who drink, he's stocking the city with alcohol.
3) She works too much.
Polly works a full time job. She also does some freelance reporting on the side. In addition to that, she teaches a dance class and does volunteer work. To me, that all looks impressive. It shows an ability to manage time well (and since she's so happy all the time, you know that she's got some good balance in her life). To him, this kind of work ethic, initiative, and income is too much. And I guess in this point I must concede. I totally understand how a beer deliverer would be threatened by her accomplishments and success.
After bringing up all these issues, Polly said that she'd be willing to go 50-50 with him and try to reach a compromise (that may be Polly's only mistake in this whole thing because in my opinion, she should have kicked him out on the curb after he brought up his three concerns). He told her, "Your faults are my mountains and I will die on those mountains before I will ever compromise."
We can only hope that he finds some mountains to die on.
It's time for a talk.
I apologize to any who might be offended by this post. But please, read it with an open mind, and look deeply into your soul to determine whether or not you need to change your life. If you feel that you are the exception to the things I am about to say, you are wrong. No one is the exception.
Now I will confess a horrible truth. I have six beard hairs. They come out of the same places. See map.
I wouldn't ever disclose such personal information if I didn't have the hopes that my confession and words today will inspire other women to take proper care of their beard hairs.
Lately I've noticed a few women who have hairs sprouting from their faces---most commonly from a mole---and who choose to do nothing about it. I don't understand. How can you possibly leave the house knowing that you have facial hair? I have a recurring nightmare in which I notice that I have a long, sticky-outy nose hair, or a chin hair, or a cheek hair, but then I forget about it before I leave the house and go out in public. And then at that point I usually wake up in a cold sweat. And yet, I realize that some women know they have wiry, beardy, sticky-outy facial hairs and choose not to eliminate them.
I'm not talking about actual mustaches or beards. Those I'm sure are a bigger, more complicated issue and a woman must decide whether she will bleach, wax, or Nair them away. I'm talking about individual, wiry hairs that are easily plucked out with a pair of tweezers.
There is no excuse for leaving these hairs on your face. It's disgusting and wholly unnecessary. Get in the habit of checking your face every single day, and pluck the hairs out as they appear.
I've said my piece.
Now I will confess a horrible truth. I have six beard hairs. They come out of the same places. See map.
I wouldn't ever disclose such personal information if I didn't have the hopes that my confession and words today will inspire other women to take proper care of their beard hairs.
Lately I've noticed a few women who have hairs sprouting from their faces---most commonly from a mole---and who choose to do nothing about it. I don't understand. How can you possibly leave the house knowing that you have facial hair? I have a recurring nightmare in which I notice that I have a long, sticky-outy nose hair, or a chin hair, or a cheek hair, but then I forget about it before I leave the house and go out in public. And then at that point I usually wake up in a cold sweat. And yet, I realize that some women know they have wiry, beardy, sticky-outy facial hairs and choose not to eliminate them.
I'm not talking about actual mustaches or beards. Those I'm sure are a bigger, more complicated issue and a woman must decide whether she will bleach, wax, or Nair them away. I'm talking about individual, wiry hairs that are easily plucked out with a pair of tweezers.
There is no excuse for leaving these hairs on your face. It's disgusting and wholly unnecessary. Get in the habit of checking your face every single day, and pluck the hairs out as they appear.
I've said my piece.
The Peacock
"Did you ever see an unhappy horse? Did you ever see a bird that had the blues? One reason why birds and horses are not unhappy is because they are not trying to impress other birds and horses." --Dale Carnegie
I've read this quote at work upwards of 50 times over the last year. It appears in many of the edits I do. And it bothers me every time I read it. Could he have chosen a worse example than birds? I mean, is there another animal out there that is so obviously out there to impress others of its kind?
(Please watch the above video because it's one of my favorite things in the whole world.)
With that introduction, I'll tell you that I saw a peacock in the cafeteria today. Not a real peacock. But you'll get the picture.
I was waiting for my sandwich to cook. A young man went from the salad bar to the deli and kindof smirked at me when he did. I'm quite happy with my husband, who is the handsomest bird I've ever seen, so I could really care less about this smirking fool. And I think that it will help you to know that he was dressed fairly nicely, had slightly longish hair, and walked about with a smugness that was bigger than his short stature.
As he waited in the deli line, he did something most unexpected. He stood up on one foot and did a full 360 degree spin. In line. At the deli. Wow. Even then, he wasn't done displaying. He reached up to the sky. Then he bent over completely in half to grab his ankles (!). Then up again, and he jumped a little. Then he pranced in place for a few moments.
I actually left the cafeteria before the show was over, but men like him really make me wonder. According to Dale Carnegie, he must not be happy. Only, maybe he is happy because he's acting like a bird, and no one's ever seen an unhappy bird. It confuses me. I'm happy that I got a humble guy. Even though he's got lots that he should boast about.
What displays have you seen?
I've read this quote at work upwards of 50 times over the last year. It appears in many of the edits I do. And it bothers me every time I read it. Could he have chosen a worse example than birds? I mean, is there another animal out there that is so obviously out there to impress others of its kind?
(Please watch the above video because it's one of my favorite things in the whole world.)
With that introduction, I'll tell you that I saw a peacock in the cafeteria today. Not a real peacock. But you'll get the picture.
I was waiting for my sandwich to cook. A young man went from the salad bar to the deli and kindof smirked at me when he did. I'm quite happy with my husband, who is the handsomest bird I've ever seen, so I could really care less about this smirking fool. And I think that it will help you to know that he was dressed fairly nicely, had slightly longish hair, and walked about with a smugness that was bigger than his short stature.
As he waited in the deli line, he did something most unexpected. He stood up on one foot and did a full 360 degree spin. In line. At the deli. Wow. Even then, he wasn't done displaying. He reached up to the sky. Then he bent over completely in half to grab his ankles (!). Then up again, and he jumped a little. Then he pranced in place for a few moments.
I actually left the cafeteria before the show was over, but men like him really make me wonder. According to Dale Carnegie, he must not be happy. Only, maybe he is happy because he's acting like a bird, and no one's ever seen an unhappy bird. It confuses me. I'm happy that I got a humble guy. Even though he's got lots that he should boast about.
What displays have you seen?
Registering
I've always said that it would be hard for me to register. What do I need that I haven't already bought myself? As a non-19-year-old, non-student, I've pretty much needed to provide for myself over the past several years.
Well, Monday night and Tuesday night, Murray and I spent some good quality time registering. I was surprised by how many things I needed! We registered from 7:00-9:00 on Monday and from 7:00-8:30 last night. We registered at Williams Sonoma and at Bed Bath and Beyond.
At Bed Bath and Beyond, they asked us how many people we'd be inviting. I don't actually know, but I've been making an uneducated guess of 400. It seems pretty accurate. Of course, a lot of those people are out of towners anyway. But still. That's roughly how many invites we'll send out. They said that we should register for about 800 items, then, giving our guests a good amount of choice in gift buying.
I was ready for the challenge.
I registered like I would shop. For example, when I found a $40 spring form pan at Williams Sonoma, I said, "Why would I ever need a $40 spring form pan?? There'll be something cheaper at Bed Bath & Beyond." Sure enough there was. We found a 3-pack for $9.99. That's the one we registered for. Just because people will be buying us gifts doesn't mean that they should waste their money on overpriced items. (El Senor pointed out that he owns the $40 Williams Sonoma spring form pan and claims that only things he makes in it turn out well.
And really, after an investment of three and a half hours, I really felt that we had accomplished our mission. We were successfully registered. We didn't register for nose hair clippers (though I threatened Murray that I'd add it to the registry) and we did register for lots of hangers. This made Murray exclaim, "For the poor people! This way, poor people who want to get us something can buy something they can afford!" I prefer to call them "students."
Today, I decided to go online to review our handiwork and see how close we came to 800 items. Here's the tally:
Williams Sonoma = 19 items (7 of which are cookbooks)
Bed Bath and Beyond = 34 items
Maybe if we'd brought along Murray's brother Steve, the Price is Right king, we would have done a lot better.
Does Apple have a registry?
Seriously, though, any registry advice you could send us, we'd appreciate. Clearly we're not doing it right.
Well, Monday night and Tuesday night, Murray and I spent some good quality time registering. I was surprised by how many things I needed! We registered from 7:00-9:00 on Monday and from 7:00-8:30 last night. We registered at Williams Sonoma and at Bed Bath and Beyond.
At Bed Bath and Beyond, they asked us how many people we'd be inviting. I don't actually know, but I've been making an uneducated guess of 400. It seems pretty accurate. Of course, a lot of those people are out of towners anyway. But still. That's roughly how many invites we'll send out. They said that we should register for about 800 items, then, giving our guests a good amount of choice in gift buying.
I was ready for the challenge.
I registered like I would shop. For example, when I found a $40 spring form pan at Williams Sonoma, I said, "Why would I ever need a $40 spring form pan?? There'll be something cheaper at Bed Bath & Beyond." Sure enough there was. We found a 3-pack for $9.99. That's the one we registered for. Just because people will be buying us gifts doesn't mean that they should waste their money on overpriced items. (El Senor pointed out that he owns the $40 Williams Sonoma spring form pan and claims that only things he makes in it turn out well.
And really, after an investment of three and a half hours, I really felt that we had accomplished our mission. We were successfully registered. We didn't register for nose hair clippers (though I threatened Murray that I'd add it to the registry) and we did register for lots of hangers. This made Murray exclaim, "For the poor people! This way, poor people who want to get us something can buy something they can afford!" I prefer to call them "students."
Today, I decided to go online to review our handiwork and see how close we came to 800 items. Here's the tally:
Williams Sonoma = 19 items (7 of which are cookbooks)
Bed Bath and Beyond = 34 items
Maybe if we'd brought along Murray's brother Steve, the Price is Right king, we would have done a lot better.
Does Apple have a registry?
Seriously, though, any registry advice you could send us, we'd appreciate. Clearly we're not doing it right.
Pretty Flowers
So my BFF Martha Stewart told me last year that I could put potted mums in a white pumpkin. Of course, she didn't necessarily say to do it for my wedding; it was more of an "October" thing. But I was thinking they would make nice centerpieces for the wedding. Now, does anyone know where I might find 10+ white pumpkins?
An Announcement
Of course there's lots to report from our trip to San Diego and Mexico, but I'll wait till we actually have pictures. For now, I'd really like to talk about what was in my mailbox this morning.
The explanation starts about nine months ago...
Oh boy. Now you're thinking that there was a baby in my mailbox. Really, the whole "nine months" thing is a coincidence. It just so happened that nine months ago, I was making a special effort to get out more and meet new people. This involved attending any ward activity I could stomach and accepting invitations to random people's birthday parties. So it was that last October, I found myself at a birthday party for a ward girl. There were a lot of other people at the party, but during the course of the evening, I was able to meet her and her boyfriend/fiance.
The stint of "meeting new ward people" didn't really last very long, and so it was that I probably only talked to this girl and her fiance the night of that party and maybe a nod or two in the halls afterwards.
Last week, when I was at Hancock fabric buying the rest of my supplies for my Betty Shopper bag, I saw her and her fiance. I made eye contact---kindof---with the fiance who didn't seem to recognize me at all (nine months ago was a long time) so I didn't really feel the need to go up and start a conversation with either of them. Not out of spite. Just out of having absolutely nothing to say because really, we just casually barely knew of one another's existence.
In fact, when I was ready with my fabric, I stood at the fabric cutting counter right beside them. Again, it's not like they recognized me or anything, which I, of course, was fine with because like I said, it's not as if we had some fabulous friendship. I left the store without ever talking to them.
This morning, I checked my mail on my way to work to see if my latest Etsy purchase arrived. It didn't. But I leafed through what was there and found an announcement-looking envelope. I opened it up to find this couple's wedding invitation.
Wow.
This basically means that for invitations alone, I can never afford to get married (sorry Murray---give up on me now) because apparently the rule is that you must send an invitation to every person you have ever said hello to, briefly been acquainted with, or nodded at in a hall.
The explanation starts about nine months ago...
Oh boy. Now you're thinking that there was a baby in my mailbox. Really, the whole "nine months" thing is a coincidence. It just so happened that nine months ago, I was making a special effort to get out more and meet new people. This involved attending any ward activity I could stomach and accepting invitations to random people's birthday parties. So it was that last October, I found myself at a birthday party for a ward girl. There were a lot of other people at the party, but during the course of the evening, I was able to meet her and her boyfriend/fiance.
The stint of "meeting new ward people" didn't really last very long, and so it was that I probably only talked to this girl and her fiance the night of that party and maybe a nod or two in the halls afterwards.
Last week, when I was at Hancock fabric buying the rest of my supplies for my Betty Shopper bag, I saw her and her fiance. I made eye contact---kindof---with the fiance who didn't seem to recognize me at all (nine months ago was a long time) so I didn't really feel the need to go up and start a conversation with either of them. Not out of spite. Just out of having absolutely nothing to say because really, we just casually barely knew of one another's existence.
In fact, when I was ready with my fabric, I stood at the fabric cutting counter right beside them. Again, it's not like they recognized me or anything, which I, of course, was fine with because like I said, it's not as if we had some fabulous friendship. I left the store without ever talking to them.
This morning, I checked my mail on my way to work to see if my latest Etsy purchase arrived. It didn't. But I leafed through what was there and found an announcement-looking envelope. I opened it up to find this couple's wedding invitation.
Wow.
This basically means that for invitations alone, I can never afford to get married (sorry Murray---give up on me now) because apparently the rule is that you must send an invitation to every person you have ever said hello to, briefly been acquainted with, or nodded at in a hall.
Sincerity at its Sincerest
Because I am a responsible woman, I did the responsible thing and made an appointment for my pap test. I underwent the whole ordeal a couple of weeks ago and because I have at least the tiniest ounce of propriety, I won't discuss the details of that appointment.
I will, however, share that during my appointment, I had this to look at on the wall in front of me:
(Okay, not really, but there was a picture of a little girl with her eyes wide and her mouth open, which was funnier/even worse than The Scream. And even though I had my camera in the room with me, and I was all alone barely swathed in sheets of paper, I didn't want to take the picture for fear of 1) getting caught and being considered a freak show and 2) catching the reflection of my scantily paper-clad self in the photo.)
During the visit, the NP became concerned that I may have thyroid disease. It runs in my family. She ordered blood work and told me I'd have the results in about two weeks. Yesterday, I received this letter in the mail:
It scares me to think what they would have sent me if my blood test had not, actually, been normal.
I will, however, share that during my appointment, I had this to look at on the wall in front of me:
(Okay, not really, but there was a picture of a little girl with her eyes wide and her mouth open, which was funnier/even worse than The Scream. And even though I had my camera in the room with me, and I was all alone barely swathed in sheets of paper, I didn't want to take the picture for fear of 1) getting caught and being considered a freak show and 2) catching the reflection of my scantily paper-clad self in the photo.)During the visit, the NP became concerned that I may have thyroid disease. It runs in my family. She ordered blood work and told me I'd have the results in about two weeks. Yesterday, I received this letter in the mail:
It scares me to think what they would have sent me if my blood test had not, actually, been normal.
Let's be honest.
A conversation with my mother:
Mom: hmm.
it looks kind of goth to me.
is it darker in the photo?
me: You're so mean.
My other friends say it looks fantastic.
me: You're the MEANEST!
Mom: like there's some light brown AND dark brown
me: I think that's the way the light is hitting it.
Mom: I'm NOT being mean - I'm saying it looks kind of highlighty
did you do highlights?
take another picture
me: I didn't do highlights.
Mom: have you sent the photo to yourself?
it looks black on my monitor
not brown
so maybe its my monitor or the photo?
9:58 AM me: I think it's maybe part of the fact that I'm taking indoor pictures.
And I think it'll fade a little more.
9:59 AM Mom: have you looked at it?
the photo?
me: yes
Mom: does it look black to you?
me: yes
Mom: so I'm not mean at all....
just honest
and you are a beautiful girl, and it looks beautiful
Mom: just goth
me: haha
Did you get the new pictures?
Mom: no
me: check
10:01 AM Mom: well, obviously the first one belongs at least on your blog
and without being able to see it in person I'm not wild about it
10:02 AM me: okay
Mom: doesn't mean that it's not attractive
but the pictures make it look uneven and BLACK
and they still do
the hair cut, is perfectly cute
UPDATE:
Murray made this for me:
Fact vs. Fiction
Tonight at Nat's house, she introduced me to all her friends as, "This is Cicada. She met her boyfriend on the internet." I think that maybe she's trying to get me used to the fact that now that Murray and I are dating-dating, people are going to ask us how we met, and I'm going to have to admit that we met online. Actually, everyone I met tonight really thought it was cool that Murray and I met through my blog. And my grandpa up in Canada, who thinks that computers are of the devil, said, "You know, people don't like to admit that they met on the internet because there's some sort of stigma attached to it. But it's really not much different than my day when we went to dances to meet friends of friends. That's how we met new people to date."
If Grandpa doesn't think it's so bad, why should I?
If Murray doesn't think it's so bad, why should I? (He made this horrible fake-crying face when I told him that the way we met embarrasses me, and it almost broke my heart.)
In fact, I have several successfully-married friends who met online (whoa---not that we're talking about marriage here---we're just talking about the fact that Murray and I are dating, okay?). Should I out you all? Off the top of my head, there's Daltongirl and Daltonboy, Squirrel Boy and Brinestone, and Ambrosia and Bawb. I don't know if three couples counts as "several" but you get what I'm saying.
Still, I'm embarrassed to say, "Murray and I met on the internet." That sounds like internet dating sites (not that there's anything wrong with that...). I'm even embarrassed to say, "Murray and I met through my blog" because that generally leads to "What is your blog address" and maybe I don't want to give my blog address to everyone I talk to about Murray.
I'm going to have to come up with some alternate explanations of how we met. Some can be half truths. Some may be lies. Let me know which is your favorite, and feel free to suggest alternatives.
1. We met through a friend of a friend. (True: He linked to my blog from the blog of a friend of a friend.)
2. Well, we were dating for a while, then we broke up, but we got back together again. (This is El Senor's solution. He said we just have to break up at some point and get back together again. This answer is "deflection" where I wouldn't actually be answering the question, but people wouldn't notice that I wasn't actually answering the question.)
3. We happened to go to the same restaurant one night and started talking while we waited to be seated, and decided to sit together. (True: Although, we arranged online to meet at that restaurant... I'd just omit that detail.)
4. We met in the Mac store and our love of Macs brought us together. (False. But we both love Macs.)
5. I saw him on the street and recognized him as a boy from a James Christensen painting who I had always dreamed of meeting. (False. But he's in a James Christensen painting.)
6. I saw him on the street and recognized him as a guy in Saints and Soldiers. (False, but he was an extra in Saints and Soldiers.)
7. We were both abducted by aliens at the same time and met on the mother ship. When we returned to earth, we found each other and our shared horrifying experience really brought us closer together. (True, but claiming to have met on the internet is much less embarrassing.)
If Grandpa doesn't think it's so bad, why should I?
If Murray doesn't think it's so bad, why should I? (He made this horrible fake-crying face when I told him that the way we met embarrasses me, and it almost broke my heart.)
In fact, I have several successfully-married friends who met online (whoa---not that we're talking about marriage here---we're just talking about the fact that Murray and I are dating, okay?). Should I out you all? Off the top of my head, there's Daltongirl and Daltonboy, Squirrel Boy and Brinestone, and Ambrosia and Bawb. I don't know if three couples counts as "several" but you get what I'm saying.
Still, I'm embarrassed to say, "Murray and I met on the internet." That sounds like internet dating sites (not that there's anything wrong with that...). I'm even embarrassed to say, "Murray and I met through my blog" because that generally leads to "What is your blog address" and maybe I don't want to give my blog address to everyone I talk to about Murray.
I'm going to have to come up with some alternate explanations of how we met. Some can be half truths. Some may be lies. Let me know which is your favorite, and feel free to suggest alternatives.
1. We met through a friend of a friend. (True: He linked to my blog from the blog of a friend of a friend.)
2. Well, we were dating for a while, then we broke up, but we got back together again. (This is El Senor's solution. He said we just have to break up at some point and get back together again. This answer is "deflection" where I wouldn't actually be answering the question, but people wouldn't notice that I wasn't actually answering the question.)
3. We happened to go to the same restaurant one night and started talking while we waited to be seated, and decided to sit together. (True: Although, we arranged online to meet at that restaurant... I'd just omit that detail.)
4. We met in the Mac store and our love of Macs brought us together. (False. But we both love Macs.)
5. I saw him on the street and recognized him as a boy from a James Christensen painting who I had always dreamed of meeting. (False. But he's in a James Christensen painting.)
6. I saw him on the street and recognized him as a guy in Saints and Soldiers. (False, but he was an extra in Saints and Soldiers.)
7. We were both abducted by aliens at the same time and met on the mother ship. When we returned to earth, we found each other and our shared horrifying experience really brought us closer together. (True, but claiming to have met on the internet is much less embarrassing.)
Flower Policy
In honor of February 14th, allow me to share with you my Flower Policy. It might be slightly harsher than my Bridal Shower Policy, but believe me, it's based on sound logic. You'll see. It is inspired by Nemesis's post today, especially the part where she buys flowers for herself and plans on delivering half to her sister. Nemesis's actions are in line with my Flower Policy. Without further ado...
1. Women should never* have flowers delivered to other women. Although it normally takes a woman one second to grab the card and look at the sender's name, that one second is enough time for at least one dozen male names to cycle through the woman's brain (men who she hopes it might be, men who she hopes it's not). Invariably, seeing a woman's name on the "From" line will cause disappointment. Boiled down? Women sending flowers to other women causes disappointment. And it's not always just a let down after one second of anticipation. Once, for me, it was several agonizing hours. I had recently had a fight with a love-interest. I went home to find that a flower-delivery attempt had been made while I was away. The note indicated that my neighbors had signed for the flowers. But my neighbors weren't home. I waited four agonizing hours, wondering blissfully that perhaps the flowers were from an apologetic love-interest. Instead, when my neighbors got home, I found out that the flowers were from my roommate. Who knew I had had a fight with my love-interest. Who felt bad and thought that sending me flowers would make it better. Who could have just as easily (and less expensively) bought the flowers herself and gave them to me herself, or left them on the kitchen table for me herself. I'm just saying.
*There are exceptions of course. This past December, I missed a flower delivery and had to go pick the flowers up at the shop. I told El Senor that the flowers were either Love Flowers, Friend Flowers, or Death Flowers, and that since I had just returned from my grandma's funeral, I was safely assuming that they were Death Flowers. When I picked them up, I found out that Daltongirl, Nemesis, and Sakhmet had sent them to me. There was no disappointment because A) there was no expectation that they were love flowers, and B) none of those women live in my same city, so it's not as if they could have delivered them in person.
2. No one should ever give flowers anonymously. The anonymous giving of flowers is a cruelty that should have been prohibited in the Geneva Conventions. The anonymous giving of flowers doesn't work out well for the receiver or the sender. I believe that very seldomly does the receiver's hope of who the sender is actually match up with who the sender is. Women anonymously giving flowers to women is the worst. The recipient will be deluded into thinking that some man has romantic interest in her. The let-down will be soul-mangling to say the least. Men anonymously giving flowers to women is only slightly better. But when the recipient finds out that the sender was actually the weird social outcast instead of the handsome French speaker, and that the weird social outcast was actually harboring a secret undying love for the recipient, the recipient will be both crushed and very, very afraid. And then the recipient will hate that kind of flower for the rest of her pathetic, lonely existence. (And so what if I'm speaking from personal experience? Don't ever try to send me yellow roses because I don't care what the crap you say about yellow meaning "friendship"---I know that it means much, much more, you crazy social outcast!)
So that's basically it for my Flower Policy. If you're a woman, deliver the flowers by hand so that there's no moment of hope to cause inevitable let-down. If you're a man or a woman, sign your name to those flowers on penalty of death.
1. Women should never* have flowers delivered to other women. Although it normally takes a woman one second to grab the card and look at the sender's name, that one second is enough time for at least one dozen male names to cycle through the woman's brain (men who she hopes it might be, men who she hopes it's not). Invariably, seeing a woman's name on the "From" line will cause disappointment. Boiled down? Women sending flowers to other women causes disappointment. And it's not always just a let down after one second of anticipation. Once, for me, it was several agonizing hours. I had recently had a fight with a love-interest. I went home to find that a flower-delivery attempt had been made while I was away. The note indicated that my neighbors had signed for the flowers. But my neighbors weren't home. I waited four agonizing hours, wondering blissfully that perhaps the flowers were from an apologetic love-interest. Instead, when my neighbors got home, I found out that the flowers were from my roommate. Who knew I had had a fight with my love-interest. Who felt bad and thought that sending me flowers would make it better. Who could have just as easily (and less expensively) bought the flowers herself and gave them to me herself, or left them on the kitchen table for me herself. I'm just saying.
*There are exceptions of course. This past December, I missed a flower delivery and had to go pick the flowers up at the shop. I told El Senor that the flowers were either Love Flowers, Friend Flowers, or Death Flowers, and that since I had just returned from my grandma's funeral, I was safely assuming that they were Death Flowers. When I picked them up, I found out that Daltongirl, Nemesis, and Sakhmet had sent them to me. There was no disappointment because A) there was no expectation that they were love flowers, and B) none of those women live in my same city, so it's not as if they could have delivered them in person.
2. No one should ever give flowers anonymously. The anonymous giving of flowers is a cruelty that should have been prohibited in the Geneva Conventions. The anonymous giving of flowers doesn't work out well for the receiver or the sender. I believe that very seldomly does the receiver's hope of who the sender is actually match up with who the sender is. Women anonymously giving flowers to women is the worst. The recipient will be deluded into thinking that some man has romantic interest in her. The let-down will be soul-mangling to say the least. Men anonymously giving flowers to women is only slightly better. But when the recipient finds out that the sender was actually the weird social outcast instead of the handsome French speaker, and that the weird social outcast was actually harboring a secret undying love for the recipient, the recipient will be both crushed and very, very afraid. And then the recipient will hate that kind of flower for the rest of her pathetic, lonely existence. (And so what if I'm speaking from personal experience? Don't ever try to send me yellow roses because I don't care what the crap you say about yellow meaning "friendship"---I know that it means much, much more, you crazy social outcast!)
So that's basically it for my Flower Policy. If you're a woman, deliver the flowers by hand so that there's no moment of hope to cause inevitable let-down. If you're a man or a woman, sign your name to those flowers on penalty of death.
Bridal Shower Policy
Call me a frigid witch with a B, but I have a bridal shower policy. See, when I was an undergrad, I went through a period of time when I was receiving way too many bridal shower invitations, many for girls who I hardly had any connection to at all. Now, everyone knows that no one goes to a bridal shower for the games. People go to bridal showers under obligation. And they are obligated to bring a shower gift.
Particularly for a student, having to attend many bridal showers causes serious financial strain. And particularly for a single-with-a-bleak-hope-of-ever-getting-married student, the idea of buying kitchen gadgets for others when you don't have enough money to buy cool gadgets for yourself, isn't appealing at all.
So I developed a bridal shower policy to weed out people who were only gift-grabbing. Now that I am out of school and gainfully employed, I might revise this policy, but who are we kidding? Feel free to adopt this policy as your own, if you feel that you are attending too many bridal showers.
THE POLICY:
1. I must have, at some point in my life, considered the person a friend. Not an acquaintance. Not a friend of a family member's. Not a roommate who I never really liked. A real friend.
2. I must have hung out with that friend at least once. A friend who was a school class friend or a work friend does not qualify. We must have, at some point, decided to hang out together independently of class or work.
3. I must have spoken to or spent time with that friend within the last year. This is the hardest to enforce, because sometimes I'd get invitations from freshman friends who I really did like at the time, but I'd remind myself that if our friendship wasn't strong enough to have precipitated some sort of contact over the past year, then it's not good enough for a bridal shower. If you want to get a gift from me, you'd better care about me enough to talk to me within a year of your bridal shower.
Particularly for a student, having to attend many bridal showers causes serious financial strain. And particularly for a single-with-a-bleak-hope-of-ever-getting-married student, the idea of buying kitchen gadgets for others when you don't have enough money to buy cool gadgets for yourself, isn't appealing at all.
So I developed a bridal shower policy to weed out people who were only gift-grabbing. Now that I am out of school and gainfully employed, I might revise this policy, but who are we kidding? Feel free to adopt this policy as your own, if you feel that you are attending too many bridal showers.
THE POLICY:
1. I must have, at some point in my life, considered the person a friend. Not an acquaintance. Not a friend of a family member's. Not a roommate who I never really liked. A real friend.
2. I must have hung out with that friend at least once. A friend who was a school class friend or a work friend does not qualify. We must have, at some point, decided to hang out together independently of class or work.
3. I must have spoken to or spent time with that friend within the last year. This is the hardest to enforce, because sometimes I'd get invitations from freshman friends who I really did like at the time, but I'd remind myself that if our friendship wasn't strong enough to have precipitated some sort of contact over the past year, then it's not good enough for a bridal shower. If you want to get a gift from me, you'd better care about me enough to talk to me within a year of your bridal shower.
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