Hess-o-mania

A few evenings ago, I watched Nacho Libre for the first time. It is a fun, quirky movie, with sweet undertones and a great soundtrack. It has a cult following here in Utah because the creators are a husband & wife team from Utah, or at least went to BYU for film school. They also created another popular movie called Napoleon Dynamite.

When I arrived to Utah, Napoleon Dynamite had just arrived on DVD. I hadn't heard anything about it in Florida. In Utah, people would go on and on about this movie, quoting from it word for word. Someone had the soundtrack and played it at a dinner party I attended. The music is funky organ music that fits the movie, but isn't exactly the best backdrop for a party. When people heard that I had not viewed this particular picture their faces would contort into a mixture of pity and shock. I decided it would be prudent for me to borrow my cousin's DVD if I wanted to have anything to talk about with people at future gathering. I made some popcorn, put in the DVD, and nestled in for this life altering experience. It was good, but it did take a couple of viewings for me to really get into it. To me, it is very much a Utah film with Utah humor. You have to understand the people here (and Idaho) to really appreciate the film.

When Nacho came out last summer, I wasn't all that interested in seeing it because after about 5 minutes of Jack Black, I'm done. I like him and really like his inhibitions, but it's that "overacting" he does with his face that starts to get a little old. I decided to rent it, and both myself and my husband (who didn't care for Napoleon Dynamite at all) really liked it.
After watching it, I immediately downloaded the soundtrack, and the next morning I found this in my shower:Now I can't be sure, but to me it looks like the "little people" wrestlers that growl and sound like little pigs. If you haven't seen the movie than you have no idea what I am talking about. This little creation was done by my husband, apparently killing time while letting the conditioner set. Media used - steam and glass mixed with human fingers.

Today's Run

Run Time: 45 minutes (3 min walk/2 min run) warm up and cool down
Distance : 2.66 miles

Notes: Need to stretch more afterwards. I am starting to feel shin splints on my left calf.

Day late

I forgot to add my Running entry into yesterday's post.

Time: 45 minutes - 3 min walk/2 min run w/ warm up and cool down
average walking speed 3.6
average running speed 4.1
Total: 2.39 miles

I was pooped!!!

Dreams of a Sugarplum Fairy

Last night my husband took me to see The Nutcracker for our anniversary. Since moving back to Utah, I have resumed my love of attending art performances. As a child I would attend Ballet productions as money would allow. I remember being so young that my parents would have to ball up their coats to be used as a booster seat, so that I may be able to see around the beehive hairdo in front of me. I remember when I was about 6 years old, leaning over to my mom and declaring "someday I am going to be the Sugarplum Fairy."
My eyes wide, mystified by the story being so elegantly played out before me, I would dream of the day when I would be dancing on my toes, my Cavalier lifting me high above his head, and my tiara sparkling in the stage lights with my legs suspended effortlessly into the air. This was my dream. This would be my moment in life.
Unfortunately that dream never did become a reality, but I still love the Ballet, love the movement, the art, talent, and the surreal dream that a ballet production becomes through hours, months, years, and lifetimes of hard work.
Last night was no different. I sat in that chair (sans coats underneath me) and entered into a perfect world of childhood mystery and grace. The 34 year old women I am today disappeared and once again became a 6 year old girl forever mystified by the beauty displayed before me.

In Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker Suite there is a piece called the Pas de Deux. This is a dance where the Sugarplum Fairy and her Cavalier dance together. The music is one of the most beautiful pieces ever created, at least to me. It is a series of crescendos followed by diminuendos. Building the anticipation and then back down, up and down, up and down, until it reaches its climax with two Cymbals smashing into one another. Like clockwork, year after year, when that climax happens my chest fills with such emotion that I can't hold it in anymore and tears begin to roll down my face. No matter how hard I try to hold back, I can't. It just takes me in. I love it.

When I got home, I dug through my old chest and found my old toe shoes still tied together the way I left them many years ago. Here they are....








I think there was some dried blood in one of them. Blood, sweat, and tears as they say.

It was a great night filled with great memories. If you get a chance to see The Nutcracker or even just listen to The Suite, it is well worth it. The title of this post is a link to a wikipedia explanation of the story of The Nutcracker. William Christensen was the choreographer that brought The Nutcracker to the U.S. in 1944. He was also the man who started Ballet West here in Salt Lake. I had the privilege to dance for him....once. He wouldn't remember me, but I will always remember him.

Running into the New Year

I know it is a little early to start the new year's resolution list, but I guess I like to get off to an early start. I have decided to start with one of the hardest activities for me, running. Generally speaking, I usually have beginners luck with most things I try. Most things except running. I suck at it. I think when I was in my mother's womb she gave me her size lungs for my body (she is six inches shorter on a good day).
Its not that I am in bad shape. I can dance for hours, lift weights, do pilates, and even some yoga, but running is my Achilles heel. Even as a very active kid, I was one of the last people to finish the running portion of the Physical Fitness Test. I have always wanted to be a runner. I sit in admiration of people who can just run forever and ever.

Last year as my girlfriend, Jody , embarked on her 2nd Marathon I thought to myself, "this could be the motivation I need." I may, possibly, kind of have a slight competitive streak. I began to do a training program designed by Girls Gotta Move for a 5K over the past summer. I began with high expectations which usually leads me to failure. After the first few weeks, my left foot began to erupt in pain during the course of a run. Within days I was unable to walk at all. My injury was a nasty little bugger called Plantar Fasciitis. Apparently it is a common injury with people who try to do too much too fast, and since I had probably pushed myself too hard my body responded with an injury that put me on my butt for most of the summer. I was not a happy camper. Fortunately, I found a chiropractor that helped with the injury, and with time and healing, I finally recovered.

Now, I am looking again at Jody going after another Marathon (she runs for her mum who died a few years ago from lymphoma). I figure now is the time to try and tackle this mountain... again. I have no desire to run a marathon, and right now my only goal is to run the 5K portion of the Salt Lake City Marathon in April. I have decided to do a nice, slow paced run, and work my way up to my goal of a 5K (3.1 miles). Secondary goal is to be able to do trail running next summer.

Why am I writing about this? I want to incorporate my running diary into my blog. My intention is to chart my progress and hopefully find some motivation to keep on going and try to improve.

First entry:
Treadmill 45 minutes - 3 minutes walk/2 minutes run w/warm up and cool down. Total miles- 2.5. Motivational running music today - New Order: Blue Monday, BLT

Christmas Day

We had a great Christmas. Hope everyone else did as well. I think my cat, Zoey, says it all. Just between you and me though, she is abused on a daily basis : )

After we opened our presents and had some breakfast we took our new snowshoes and broke them in at Mill Creek canyon. It was crazy with people who apparently had the same idea as we did. I think there were more dogs than people though. It needs to be renamed the yellow dog road. Beware of where you step!

Even with all the traffic we had a good time.


I am now headed out for Christmas dinner at my aunt's. I don't think I can eat anymore though. I think a fast is in order for the next two days.

Merry Holiday?

Yesterday I joined the thousands of other last minute shoppers, and decided to brave the mall for some stocking stuffer's. I had done a lot of online shopping this year and had not yet actually been to a mall in months.

While checking out at a sporting good store, I found myself gabbing away at the 16 year old behind the counter. As I finished paying, I started to say "Merry Christmas!" to which he replied "Happy Holidays." I walked away feeling rather awkward, as if I was insensitive to the possibilities that he isn't Christian or that he may not celebrate Christmas. I wandered off, going over the scenario in my mind, "was I rude, should I not have said anything?"
I never really thought much about the words offering holiday cheer...until this year. Suddenly there is a new line that has been drawn on both sides of the political spectrum, and neither side is budging. Now it is possible to offend someone when wishing a "Merry Christmas." It is also some sort of political statement to wish someone a "Happy Holiday." What the hell is going on? I can't win!
As I proceeded with my shopping itinerary, I continued the political/religious discourse in my mind. On one side, I am knowledgeable in the fact that there are a whole lot of individuals who do not celebrate Christmas. This is something that I try to remember as I look at all the Christian celebration going on around me (one could argue that what we see is not very Christian at all, but just a cultural guideline for gluttony, but I digress). In fact, I look fondly if not even enviously at the simple Menorah that is lit at the Jewish center up the street. It seems to speak volumes about the Jewish faith, whereas the blow up Santas' and fighting adults over the latest Sony PlayStation doesn't say much for Christianity. I have had the experience of wishing someone a "Merry Christmas," to which they responded with a "Happy Hanukkah." I didn't think anything of it. In effect, it was just two people wishing the other a great day, a celebration of our faiths and diversity. Kindness, not conversion.

On the other side of the issue, one can bypass the "Merry Christmas," and enter the dimension of "Happy Holidays." Apparently by doing so you now declare yourself a whiny liberal. Little did I know that saying two words, words that are meant as a salutation, could have such a visceral reaction in some. I personally have been known to use both the "Merry Christmas" and the "Happy Holiday" in the same conversation. Confusing I know. My response to this recent attack on the most basic of holiday cheer and greetings, is GET OVER YOURSELF!! Find something else to argue about and leave good ol' "Happy Holidays" alone! I find it unfortunate that we in this country are so sandbox oriented. "You can't play in mine unless you vow only to use "Merry Christmas"." I don't understand it. To me it sucks the joy out of a simple, basic, human need to interact with others, and mutilates it until someone is standing on their mole hill declaring themselves the victor.

In the end, it should be the thought that counts. I believe most of us were taught that concept from a very young age. If someone wishes you well, offers a greeting, or just a "bless you" when you sneeze, just take it for what is it; someone taking 3 seconds to stop and acknowledge your existence. In this crazy, self centered world, it's nice when someone cares enough to notice.

So have a very Merry Christmas, and a spectacularly Happy Holiday!!!

Frozen Fun

As I had stated in a previous post, I looooooove Christmas lights. Last night, we decided to brave the elements and go check out some of the sights. A block or 2 from my house is a street titled "Christmas Street" at least for this time of the year. We stopped off for a nice looky-loo.





We continued on with our quest to seek more holiday illumination. If you live in Salt Lake, it is generally known that one must go to the Salt Lake Temple for a Christmas light fix. We turned our wheels North and went downtown.
This is one of my favorite buildings at Temple Square. The building is the former "Assembly Hall," and inside was a high school choral group singing Christmas Songs. The architecture is reminiscent of early American government buildings. My husband and I were commenting that the interior resembles The House of Burgess at Colonial Williamsburg.

Below is the LDS Temple. As a child, I remember more Christmas lights in the tall trees, but maybe that is just my child's eye and memory. I love the red and orange lights.




By the evenings end, my skin had formed into a nice ice shield. I think the oil in my pores froze thereby not allowing my face to take any other form other than a "bad botox job" look. My eyes were frozen open, and my nose was so red it was calling Santa from the great beyond. After about an hour at the Temple, we decided to head home.

On our way back to the parking lot, we decided to go through an old mall, one that is now eerily empty. The Crossroads Mall was a place where I would spend many Saturdays in my youth. To walk through it now, as it is about to be torn down to make room for a newer mall, is somewhat sad. I remember walking the corridors, looking in all the stores, having lunch, going to movies, and generally wasting time like all good teenagers can do. As a young girl, I marked my independence by taking a bus (with transfer) to the Crossroads mall. I did manage to take the wrong bus home, but it was still a great day, and it was celebrated at this place. I am happy to see the new plans laid out for this part of downtown, however, I guess as we get older and see these places of our youth torn down and/or replaced, a small part of ourselves goes with it.

P.S. My flickr has more temple light shots if you are interested.

Oh Joyous Day!!!

After three straight days of snow, the sun finally has blessed me with its presence once again. After a good night of sleep, I woke to the sun coming up over the mountains. I was once again filled with happiness. Sure it's bitter cold, but it has been over a week without blue sky and the warmth of the sun. One can start to go rather nutty without the sun (speaking of myself in particular). Over the weekend we received a measure of that storm that pounded the northwest. Thankfully it wasn't nearly as bad here, but it was pretty much snowing non stop for 3 days. Enough to make the road a mess (70 accidents in 6 hours on Sunday morning alone).

So what does a single (sort of) woman do while snowed in over a weekend? Well let me tell you, it is REALLY interesting.
The first hour, I proceeded to clean out my tool closet. Yes, I have a tool closet filled with paints, caulk, nails, an a small arsenal of medieval torture devises to threaten my husband with. I found in this closet a bucket of red paint leftover from a paint job on my stairway. There was most of a gallon leftover, so I thought to myself...."where could I put this red paint?" I proceeded to paint a large wall in my family room, followed by two walls in my kitchen. I have to say it looks really good! Once boring beige walls, now say Hello! I just hope the better half doesn't have a heart attack when he gets home tomorrow.
Hour 2: I read a book.
Hour 3: I clipped my toenails (yuck).
Hour 4: Painted said toenails.
Hour 5: Downloaded too much music.
Hour 6: Played Joe Cocker's "You can leave your hat on," while attempting to do my best impersonation of Kim Basinger in 9 1/2 Weeks (or maybe it was The Full Monty).
Hour 7: Watched the Science Channel....again. FYI: The universe is ever expanding. It was once thought that it was actually starting to collapse on itself, but now the scientists are much smarter and realize that it is forever expanding and will eventually expand itself into nothingness. Plan now!!
Hour 8: Made some chocolate chip cookies. Yummmmy. Nothing like a heavy dose of chocolate to make a boring day much better.
Hour 9: Talked to my mom. "So Bindy, am I ever going to have grandchildren?" Love you too Mom!
Hour 10: Internet Christmas shopping............Yes! I am done!!!
Hour 11: Brushed my teeth, put on my flannels, and hit the hay.

WOW! And that was just day 1. Shall I continue? Me thinks no.

I am off to enjoy some sun and blue sky. Have a great one!

Just a walk in the park

Do you ever have those moments in life where suddenly everything looks so different, looks better and more beautiful? That happened to me today. Later in the afternoon, I was feeling the need to get outdoors and be in nature. I knew the canyons were getting snow, and with the forecast of new snow coming, I didn't want to head out that far alone. I decided to go to one of my favorite haunts, Memory Grove Park and City Creek Canyon. I brought with me my fleece cover, some water, my ipod, and my camera. Having not seen any sun in days, I was craving enrichment of the outdoors. I parked my car and proceeded up the hill as I had done 100 times in the past, but something about this time was different. It was familiar, but seemed all new to me. The sounds of the cold wind blowing through the trees, the splashing sounds of the creek as it rushed past me, and the bird songs all seemed more brilliant and alive to me today. In the past when I have come to this place it is usually for the exercise (when I have my very focused face on) or to gab with people and meet dogs. Today though, I felt more like a drifter. There was no focus, no ambitions, no worries, just.......peace (dare I say it). I spent most of my time looking up into the trees, noticing the few remaining leaves balancing on the stems, watching the birds fly from limb to limb. I noticed the color of the bark, the different shades of green in the needles of the pines. Everything around me seemed so alive and amazing.

As I turned back go down the hill to my car, I came across a women with her dog. She looked to be in her late 70s/early 80s. She had a smile on her face that seemed to show she knew what I was feeling. I smiled back. Her dog, a large Dalmatian, came up to me for a quick sniff and then proceeded on his way. I thought to myself, "I hope that is me in 50 years; a women that is happy, peaceful, content, and even blissful."
It is possible to see the world in all its beauty. Just take a walk in a park and look around, you never know what you might find.

Laughing baby

I'm sorry to be adding another video, but I just had to add this one. There is nothing like a baby laughing, but is it me or does this baby need to cut back to one pack a day? I love it anyway!

What is it?

This evening as I was goofing off with my camera, I decided to get a little adventurous and try to take a self portrait. None of the photos worked out. Something about trying to take a photo and look into a mirror at the same time just didn't work for me. After giving up, I went back to finishing the painting job I had started in my office. A few hours later, I decided to go ahead and download the photos anyway (at least for a good laugh).
The one photo that I thought was nothing but a flash of light ended up actually showing my face, sort of. What I found most interesting about this photo though (outside of the obvious need to clean my mirror) was the color that came out around my head. Now the most obvious reason(s) for the color blobs is the light from the flash reflecting off the mirror, dust particles, and possibly some of the color from my dark blue sweatshirt managing to produce a violet-colored reflection. That's the ever present, logical side of my brain talking. It makes sense, right?

But then the more inquisitive side of me came out and asked the question, "well what if it is something more, what if is an aura?" I know it sounds crazy, but I couldn't help myself. I did a couple of searches regarding auras on the web. There was quite a bit of info on the topic, too much to discuss here. Apparently a person can see an aura if they train how to. Most people tend to have a particular color around them. Blue is spiritual, orange is emotional, etc...

Looking at the photo, I tend to think it is just dust because the color is spherical which makes me think it is the light reflecting off the molecules in the air. However, since I am a curious person by nature, I like to think about things a bit beyond the rational. I think it makes life a little more interesting (and makes a bad photo suddenly appear intriguing).

It's the little things....

After a long day on my feet, these cozy little socks are my idea of total luxury. I picked them up today while finishing some Christmas shopping. I thought I deserved them.
The colors are pretty nice too!

Christmas Lights

I don't know what it is, but I love the lights of Christmas. More than the music, the goodies, or the gifts, it's the lights of Christmas that make the season special. Big bulbs, or little twinklers, white ones, blue ones, or multicolored ones. They are all so beautiful to me.

Last night as I was driving to my aunt's house for dinner, I chose to take the long route through the neighborhoods so I could stop and stare at all the lit up homes. Some houses just had a simple, beautiful strand hanging over their front door, others had every tree and srub coated with the multicolored diodes.

My husband (aka Clark W. Griswold), loves the lights as much as I do. This year he had grand dreams of a house radiating with the little bulbs. Unfortunately it was a mad dash to set up Christmas before he had to leave to do his military work in Florida. There was only time for the tree and a few strands of lights along the eves of the house. He pledges to complete his art once he returns. We should still have 6 days to enjoy his handiwork before the big day.

In the meantime, I can often be found in my living room late at night, sipping on a hot cup of cider, enjoying the beautiful little lights twinkling on my tree. The red one that lights up the glass angel I bought in Germany, the blue one next to it that shadows the the homemade ornament my cousin gave to me 16 years ago. And then there is the Santa that sits on top with its clear lights beaming his smile around the room. I remember the store in Charleston, South Carolina (next to the fudge shop) where I decided this Santa was meant to be on my tree.
I sit and admire the beauty and warmth of those little lights, and a smile forms on my face that I am truly lucky to know such things.

A-ha - Take On Me

Ode to the 80s. They were the best! I miss the big hair and big clothes!

December

Excerpt from A Sand County Almanac; December

Pines Above the Snow

Acts of creation are ordinarily reserved for gods and poets, but humbler folk may circumvent this restriction if they know how. To plant a pine, for example, one need be neither god nor poet; one need only own a shovel. By virtue of this curious loophole in the rules, any clodhopper may say: Let there be a tree- and there will be one.

If his back be strong and his shovel sharp, there may eventually be ten thousand. And in the seventh year he may lean upon his shovel, and look upon his trees, and find them good.
God passed on his handiwork as early as the seventh day, but I notice He has since been rather noncommittal about its merits. I gather either that He spoke too soon, or that trees stand more looking upon than do fig leaves and firmaments.

Looooook into my eyes

The problem when your husband is away.......too much free time to annoy the cat.

Here sits Queen Zoey. Yes you may adore me. You there........crazy lady behind that dreaded camera, bring me my milk.............NOW!!!!

True Love

Here is the story. Two people meet, spend time together, get to know one another, and fall in love. No one can really explain why they have fallen in love, by all outward appearances they don't appear to fit the standard love story, but their love for each other bypasses all reason and logic. It is a connection that is transcendent. Over time, their love and passion grow for one another even though they are only able see each other in passing. They are unable and unwilling to be together because of external forces. Forces that won't allow them to be united, forces that are undeniable in order to function properly in their world(s). They go their separate ways, marry others, have children, and go about living "normal" lives. All the while secretly desiring their true love and aching for that other person. The passion and love for each other carries them through until the next meeting where they know they can be with each other again.

This is a great love story that has been played out many times in novels, movies, poetry, and art. That yearning that comes deep from within. Some of us have had our own stories similar to this one. One thing is certain, love is love, and although it can be deniable in order to survive in the worlds we build for ourselves, it never leaves us. It can be a song on the radio, the way an author unites two characters, or a smell of a particular perfume that always brings back that one person, that moment when you knew that no matter what direction your lives would take, you would always be connected.

Where is this all coming from, one may ask? Well....hold on to your coat tails folks, but I watched Brokeback Mountain last night for the first time. Now before you go running off to put your head in the sand, understand that I myself wasn't quite sure what to make of this film before choosing to rent it. However, if you can leave your body, leave your sex, leave all you have learned about "proper" love behind, you will see what I saw, a real, true blue love story. I do believe that their are some loves that do transcend bodies, minds, and go to a deeper place. A kind of love that can surpass one's sex, race, religion, size, or any of the limitations we set for ourselves, and finds unity in a spiritual plane.

If you have experienced this type of love even once in your lifetime, then you are lucky indeed.

Java and Me

It all started innocently enough. Back in the mid-90s while living in San Diego, a college girlfriend and I would often find ourselves hanging out at the many beach side coffee/art houses that are spattered along the San Diego coast. She, having been a local San Diegan and a regular coffee drinker, convinced me to have a Mocha coffee one afternoon. Although I was skeptical (visions of my parents morning chunk-o-coffee bubbling on the kitchen counter was enough to keep anyone away), I decided to embark on this new experience. It was good, really good. Despite the fact that a Mocha is primarily sugar, it opened a door to try new coffee related beverages. I believe they call this a gateway drug. Yes....my mocha that day changed my life forever.

I soon started brewing the bean at home. Shortly afterwards, I hooked up my husband and got him a monkey for his back too. Initially we started cooking up the flavored coffees such as raspberry, hazelnut, and vanilla, but soon we realized the high just wasn't enough anymore. We needed the hard stuff, the real coffee. We needed the coffee with Country names in the title like Arabia, Sumatra, and Costa Rican. We were hard core now.

Fast forward a few years and I was a full on addict. Functions became impaired without the Joe, words became the ramblings of an idiot, mood swings would shift violently, and the headache, my oh my the headache. I would try and give it up, but the coffee pot would sing to me sweet morning lullabies, the grounds would throw their scent around, and within 2 weeks I had fallen off the wagon.

Now that I am supposedly older and wiser, the coffee consumption has cost me more than late nights and acid reflux, I have been diagnosed with adrenal fatigue and high levels of cortisol in my blood (stress hormones). In addition, I have an acid gut with intestinal issues. Now...I have to quit the habit, for my health. I am on day 3 of cutbacks (to help with the withdrawals), and this morning I woke to thumping on my temples, complete lethargy, and as my husband would say, a rather "bitchy" disposition.

I am hopeful that the next few days improve, and by the weeks end, I will be off it all together. I know this is the right thing for me to do.
That being said, I do plan on enjoying the occasional coffee or espresso when I visit the local coffee shops. "Everything in moderation" as they say.

Sidenote- Apparently beta blogger has issues with loading photos into the "about me" part. About every two weeks they lose my picture. I am kind of sick of uploading it, so until they fix it, it will stay blank. My apologies to my many, many fans.

Old Man Winter arrives......

First snow, originally uploaded by bindykay25.

This morning brought our first real snow storm. Todays High....25!

Holy War 06

Utah vs BYU 2006, originally uploaded by bindykay25.

Saturday brought about the end of the college football season here in Utah. It ended with the football rivalry between the University of Utah (The U) and Brigham Young University (BYU). This particular battle is referred to as the "Holy War" amongst the locals. I haven't quite figured out why it has received this particular title since BYU is a private, religious based school and the U is a public university. I will leave you to draw your own conclusions.

Our little Mountain West game looks like a high school game compared to say.....the Michigan-Ohio game, or the Florida-Florida State game, but here it is THE game.
As I am a recovering former cheerleader, I won't go into the details of the game except to say that it was a GREAT game. If only all football games were as good as this one was. That being said, we (the U) did loose by 2 points 15 seconds after the clock had stopped. It was a jaw dropping ending that will go into playbook history.

I took some pictures that are on my Flickr page. It was a hazy day so they are kind of crappy. My $75 Walmart special ed. camera doesn't take that great of pictures, but you get the idea.

The Meaning of Thanksgiving

Last night I, like the other 200,000 residents of Salt Lake City, ventured out to purchase the remaining items needed for my Thanksgiving recipes. Traffic was chaotic, patience was limited, and what the hell is a rutabaga anyway?? I tried my best to be polite and respect the anxiety of the holiday.
As I sat in traffic waiting for a parking spot at the local grocery store, I observed what can only be described as sheer panic on the faces of those around me. Shoppers with their loot fleeing from the store trying to dodge cars as the drivers eyeball their parking spot; screaming, hungry kids hanging out of cars, mothers looking like that final straw has finally snapped, and people revving their engines to try and get that next available spot. As I am watching all of this take place, I pose a question to myself. What is all of this for? I began to reflect on a conversation that took place a few years ago.

Thanksgiving dinner 2000, my then 18 year old nephew leaned over to me at the dinner table and quietly asked me "What does Thanksgiving mean? What is it for?" I was surprised by his request, mostly because he asked this question of me (I am generally known as the black sheep in the family), and because I just assumed that growing up in a family that is deeply entrenched in Christian values, that this almost grown man would already have an answer to this question. Just as I started to open my mouth, his mother piped in.

I love my sister-in-law, she is a loving mother and a wonderful second grade teacher, but those of you that have spent anytime with teachers that teach small children, you know that sometimes they can start talking to adults the same way they talk to their students. I suppose it comes with the job if you love it as much as she does. She began to tell her son the story of the Pilgrims and the Indians (yes Indians, not Native Americans). He peered over at me with that look of "Help Me" written on his face. I smiled and said nothing. I might not be a mom myself, but I know never to offer advice or information that directly contradicts a mom when talking to their child.
We went ahead with the prayer and the feast. Afterwards I pulled him aside and asked him what he thought the meaning of Thanksgiving was. He stared at me, almost afraid to say anything. "Food, Family, and America," he said softly. "Sounds good to me," I replied, "I think Thanksgiving is anyway that you feel you can give thanks or be thankful for the life you have. I understand the story that began the tradition of Thanksgiving, but I believe it has evolved from that to be a more personal celebration of Thanks and gratitude." He grinned, said thank you, and went about eating his pumpkin pie.

As I sat in my car reflecting on this past conversation, all the while viewing the chaos before me, I wondered what I would tell him now. What am I thankful for this Thanksgiving?

I am thankful that my husband is home and not in Iraq or in some other country.
I am thankful that I am loved and that I love others.
I am thankful that my family and friends are all healthy.
I am thankful that I have a warm bed to sleep in every night and a fridge full of food.
I am thankful that I have my home and my health.
I am thankful for my laughter and the beauty that surrounds me everyday.
I am thankful that I am a woman living in this country.
I am thankful for the birds that sing their beautiful song every morning outside my window.

....and I am thankful that my husband and I have not jumped off a cliff or shot each other while remodeling this house (okay I had to add a little fun amongst all that seriousness!)

Have a wonderful and Happy Thanksgiving.

Morning Sunrise

This morning was so beautiful, I had to stop and take a picture.

Stay-at-home Millionaires?

Recently I have been accosted by friends and neighbors inviting me to their "home business" parties. In the last two weeks I have been invited to a Pampered Chef cooking party, a Scrapbooking party, a skin products party, a jewelry party, and most recently a "slumber party."

I am all for entrepreneurship and the desire for women to try and make extra money while being available to stay home with their kids. That being said, I do wonder if women buy into these businesses because they really think they can make the big bucks, or if it is just a way to get out and meet people. My hope is that it is the later. I have owned my own business, and it was my mine from the ground up. I will be the first to say that it takes a lot of work to make it successful.

My neighbor, who is having her skin products "open house" tomorrow, hasn't said more than 2 words to me in about 6 months, but has decided to invite me to this party. Now maybe I am just a skeptic by nature, but something about this bugs me. This idea of "come over and spend money so I can get rich, but the rest of the year I will barely acknowledge your existence" really kind of eats at me. Last spring she gave my husband a sample of this particular product to give to me. I used it, and within 48 hours my skin had formed red, crusty dry patches.
I threw the remaining product away. A week later she came over with the anticipation that I should place this huge order, I told her my sensitive skin couldn't handle it. She looked as if I had insulted her personally. That was when the conversations ended.....until the invite to the open house. Now there is this pressure to buy something just to make it appear that I am a supportive neighbor and not a complete cheapy.

Two days ago, I received an invitation from a long lost high school friend who I haven't seen since moving back and have only spoken to once on the phone. This particular party is called a "slumber party." After reading over the lengthy invitation I was a little confused. "No one under the age of 18 allowed" was written in bold letters across the top. Words like "Sensual and Edible creams," "Fun Toys (and I don't think they mean the X-Box)," "Romance Enhancement items" dotted the page. I looked at my husband, "is this what I think this is?" He read over it, "Whoa........What?" A grin formed on his face. "Is this a sex party?"
Yes folks, a sex toys party. Kind of the antithesis of the cooking party or the scrapbooking party. Now there are home businesses that cover all of a women's needs and/or desires.

Maybe I'm a prude, but I think a party like this might be better suited for say.....really good friends, not just friends you talk to once every 5 years. I don't think even I have the kahunas to go check out "toys" or sample strawberry flavored skin lotions with complete strangers. To say the least, I will be finding a reason to get out of this little get together. Call me crazy but I don't think I could muster up a conversation about whether or not it really does feel like the real thing with just anyone.

November

I realize that it is almost halfway into November, and I am late with my Sand County Almanac writing. After fighting that cold, I was challenged yet again with a stomach virus. I hope that I have managed to get both the cold and the flu out of the way for the season.

Axe-in-Hand

The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away, but He is no longer the only one to do so. When some remote ancestor of ours invented the shovel, he became a giver: he could plant a tree. And when the axe was invented, he became a taker: he could chop it down. Whoever owns land has thus assumed, whether he knows it or not, the divine functions of creating and destroying plants.
Other ancestors, less remote, have since invented other tools, but each of these , upon close scrutiny, proves to be either an elaboration of, or an accessory to, the original pair of basic implements. We classify ourselves into vocations, each of which either wields some particular tool, or sells it, or repairs it, or sharpens it, or dispenses advice on how to do so; by such division of labors we avoid responsibility for the misuse of any tool save our own. But there is one vocation-philosophy- which knows that all men, by what they think out and wish for, in effect wield all tools. It knows that men thus determine, by their manner of thinking and wishing, whether it is worth while to wield any.

It's getting cold out there

000_1115, originally uploaded by bindykay25.

Last weekend while I was gasping and spewing with my cold, Larry and I took our nephew, David, up to the mountains so he could see snow. Being from California, it was the most snow he had seen. It was only October and this was just the first layer of snow this year. Only about 40 more feet to go.
This particular photo was taken of a small lake just below Brighton ski resort. Soon it will be under many feet of snow and won't resurface until next spring.

Germ Warfare

This last week I came down with a fairly bad chest cold. It was a gift from my husband, who brought it home with him after being away for a week. My immune system is usually pretty durable and can generally withstand the many colds and flues that float around every winter season. This one, however, has slapped me around, flipped me on my back, and made me cry "mama."

It first started with a dry, scratching throat, which then quickly turned into that pin cushion feeling that lets you know that this is no irritant. This is going to be worse, a lot worse. By the next morning, after listening to my husband saw down a forest all night, my lungs had filled up and the pressure was mounting around my ears and into my sinuses. Meanwhile, the goo filling up inside my nostrils must have run out of places to go and decided to set up residence in the cavity just behind my eyes. Bulging eyeballs, the tears began to form. Every time I would get that feeling that I was about to sneeze, my eyes would start to flow like Niagara Falls.

Day 2 brought forth the lung congestion with lots of fun flavored mucus. To go anywhere required Kleenex stuffed into every available pocket, purse, or occasional sleeve cuff, Tylenol, cough drops, and my homeopathic remedies.
To make matters even more challenging, my in-laws came up from California for my husband's birthday. Being sick sucks bad enough, but when you have a houseful of guest (including a teenager) all here for some big hoopty doo party that you haven't even started planning for, life becomes hell.
Every evening, after having to struggle to entertain, make food, and trying to be the good and happy daughter-in-law, my head began to feel like a cement brick.
After they left on Sunday afternoon, I found myself on the couch unable to move. I told my husband I wasn't leaving that spot for the rest of day. I stuck Season 2 of "Lost" in the DVD and laid there, mindless for the next 8 hours.

I often find myself feeling rather inferior and vulnerable when something so small, so unremarkable, can be so destructive. No matter how well we eat, how much we exercise, how many vitamin pills we ingest, we are all subject to the will of a little microscopic bug.

Happy cold and flu season!!!

The Pumpkin King returns!!

Yesterday I went to see Nightmare Before Christmas 3-D. If you are like me and haven't really gone to a movie in a theatre since the dawn of the cell phone age, you must remove your butt from the sofa and go see this movie while it's in the theatres.
The movie was great in the original format, but the 3-D really adds to the Tim Burton vision. All the characters really stand out and draw you in to the scenery.

The only draw back is the $1.50 extra charge per ticket for the lovely green framed 3-D glasses. However, they are yours to keep, which may come in handy for late night reading, Halloween costumes, or possibly as an extra seduction asset for a late night rendezvous.

Sixteen Cents

Today I went grocery shopping. Yeah! I know it is one of those really exciting weekly customs that we all get to enjoy. This time I found myself spending a rather lengthy period of time zoning out in the cleaning isle. Its not that I was looking for anything in particular, but I just stood there in some sort of trance staring at all the cleaners. Words bombarded me like "Sparkling," "Mountain Flowers (I guess they smell much better than say....city flowers)," Fresh Air," "Disinfectant," "Kills Germs," "Antibacterial," "Snuggly Softness," "Now with Ozone." MAKE IT STOP! I looked over at a guy leaning over his cart, that same look in his eyes while he sorted through the laundry detergent.
Too many choices.......what to get........$3.99 or $4.15. Does the extra lavender smell make it worth the $.16? What are the ounces? Price per ounce? Help......anyone.....help! Finally I gave up, grabbed the first thing I saw, threw it into my cart, tossed a pitiful look to the guy still staring at the ALL box, and made my way to the frozen food section. Geez, why does it have to be so hard? I just wanted some soap, some basic soap to wash dishes in.

As I walked away, I stared down at the Lavender scented soap in its lovely purple bottle. I picked it up, popped it open and took a deep whiff. Expecting to enter into some euphoric state, I was disappointed when lavender flowers did not dance in front of me, caress my skin, or de-stress my spirits. "What a sham" I mumbled to myself. "Definitely not worth that extra $.16."

Loss

I haven't written in while. I thought I would have had more time these last couple of days, but alas, I have not. Usually when hubby is away I get some free time to think and write, but this last week just flew by and I am still behind schedule.

What is strange is that I often think of different things I would like to write about. Everything from the latest movie I have seen to the dream I had last night, but when I sit in front of the computer my mind turns into a white puffy cloud were there isn't a drop of thought. Maybe there is just too much pressure to perform. But for whom.....? Very few that visit my blog (if any) actually know who I am, so what does it matter, right? That would seem to be the case, but I guess it is more personal pressure to say something worthwhile and articulate. I don't want to open my head and have it poop words all over the place. I suppose saying "poop" pretty much removes the "worthwhile and articulate" part. How about I just stick with honest.

The last couple of months, something has been eating at me, but I haven't been able to figure out how I really feel about it.
I have a cousin whom I was once very close to. We are 363 days apart (I am older), and until we were about 3-4, we were essentially raised together. I have always felt we had a strong bond even if we weren't near each other or when we hadn't spoken to each other for years. When I moved back to Utah, I was so excited to finally get to spend time with him again. Within a few weeks of moving back, I contacted him and it was like no time had passed. It was Ben and Bin again.
Within weeks we got together for dinner, movies, bike races, walks, parties, etc... . I met some of his friends and we all got along great.

I also new that he was very lonely having just ended a 9 year relationship. He really wanted to be married with the 2.5 kids, minivan, and white picket fence. He was in love with the whole "Leave it to Beaver" idea of life. I often laughed at his naivety, which in hindsight I should have looked a little deeper without the laughter. Being married for the many years I have, you soon realize that June must have been shooting up on a regular basis, and that good ol' Ward probably visited sex shops on his way home from work.
Reality is that marriage is more about a good friendship that can last and endure the pain life throws at you and not about the 4 bedroom 3 bath McMansion with side impact airbags and a six figure income for those "happy" family vacations.
I guess in my own way, I tried to tell him what I thought was true love, which conflicted with his fantasy he had concocted in his mind from childhood.

After a few months of paling around, I left to be with my husband in Germany. I was gone for many months and when I arrived home I called him to see how things went while I was away. To my surprise he had fallen madly in love with someone. "This is the one," he said. "I am crazy about her." My happiness quickly turned to uncertainty when he told me she was Mormon. Not just any Mormon, but return missionary and president of the Relief Society (which is the adult female part of the church). She also has a Masters degree from BYU. Okay, okay.....I held my breath as my own past memories of dating in Zion flashed before my eyes. I knew conversion would be eminent for this relationship to continue. I asked him what his plans were regarding the "religion" aspect of their relationship (I think you could hear the egg shells cracking in the background). He said that he had spoken with some missionaries she had brought to the house, and would probably be baptized soon. My jaw hit the floor.

After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I told him I loved him and supported him and whatever he decided to do, I would always be there. I told him my only concern was that he was jumping into conversion without really giving it any thought. My fear was that he was leaping into a faith so he could soon jump into her pants. For me, when one considers the spirit and the guidance offered in so many religions for that spirit, one would take time to pray and meditate over it, at least for a few months. If he had called me up and said that he had been seeking a spiritual course, a religion to associate with, I would be happy for him no matter the church. But knowing that this was her wish, and his wish was to be with her and please her, his spirit was the up for grabs and he appeared more than willing to give it away.

After a few days, he called me to tell me that his baptism was scheduled in 3 weeks and he would like me to attend. I asked him if he felt that this was the right church for him. He said the missionaries have been over a few times and decided he was ready for baptism asap. "So you must believe that Mormon church is the one and only true church?" His response shocked me and confirmed my fears, "Nope. In fact, I told the missionaries that I didn't believe that Joesph Smith found any gold tablets or any of that stuff." Whaaatttt? "But they are still going to convert you?" I said, "Isn't that a cornerstone to their beliefs?" It's like saying your a Catholic but don't believe in Christ. The sad part was that he didn't seem to mind. It didn't matter to him one way or the other. He was doing it only to be with her, to make her happy, her family happy (her father wouldn't even say hello to him until he found out he would convert), and to fit in.

I attended the baptism and I won't go into great detail except to say that it was exactly what I expected. Everyone cried. His old family and friends and "their ways" (to quote the Bishop) were sad to see this wonderful, loving man be taken from their lives, and his new, worthy family and friends crying because he has found the "good and righteous" path. After being insulted at every front during the baptism and afterwards by the ward who apparently felt it was more appropriate behavior to stuff their faces with potato salad than to speak with any of Ben's family, I left and went home, quietly crying as if I had just been to a funeral.

After about a month, I called Ben because I missed him and wanted to see him. My husband had returned home and I was desiring to do couple stuff. I also thought if I made an effort, then it could still be possible to stay connected. I invited he and his now fiance, Erin over for dinner. I figured that if it was just the 4 of us, we could get to know each other and maybe become really good friends. This type of optimism is usually considered an endearing quality, but it usually sets me up for disappointment, this time being no different.

After being 45 minutes late, they showed up. The meat drying out and my husband already annoyed by me asking him not to drink any beer, we were a little pissed that they didn't call to say they would be so late. Additionally, Erin was getting a cold and appeared that she had just woken up. I understand not wanting to break plans, but when your sick, you need to call and reschedule, for every one's sake. The evening went on fairly well. Generally, Erin ignored me and only spoke to my husband about his career. The only words I received were that I was a "working widow." Unbeknownst to me, I was a victim of my husband's career. I found this statement not only insulting to me, but also to our marriage. Apparently respect for marriage in her eyes is only those marriages that fit her criteria of the "right" marriage. During dinner Ben and I joked with each other, like we always had. It was obvious that Erin did not approve. She just kind of sat there with a "Gosh, I would really rather be somewhere else" look on her face. The writing was on the wall. There would be no friendship brewing between her and I.

That gnawing optimism arose again when I decided to have a family party. I invited them in the hopes of having the whole family together so she might see that we were a fun loving family. The first thing we all noticed was that Ben, well......wasn't Ben. He had grown his hair out from his buzz cut to a rather homely bowl cut. He was the first to point out that it was her that wanted it longer for their wedding pictures. He seemed quiet, distant, and afraid to say anything. It was almost as if he had become ashamed of us, as if we were now somehow less acceptable to him. A year ago, he was being as goofy and fun as any of the rest of us, and now he sat in silence, hiding in the corner, holding her hand. After the party, I gave him a hug and said "call me, let's go out sometime." He smiled "yah, I will." I knew that would be the last time I would ever see Ben, the Ben I knew, again.

They were married 2 months later and I haven't heard from him since (10 months ago). Sometimes I want to call him just to say hi, to see how married life is treating him. But something stops me. I get to the phone, pull up his number, and then put the phone down. I feel that I have made an effort, even at trying to get to know Erin (she did manage to have 3 bridal showers, of which none of Ben's female family member were invited to attend). I feel angry, sad, resentful, and rejected.

I know I will be having another family party this holiday season. I will send him an invitation, but unlike past invites, I expect this one to be rejected. Like the Bishop said, my family and I are his old family with our "ways." He has chose this new, better path. Funny thing is, this is the church that preaches "family first." I guess some members believe that to mean only the families that believe the same way they do.

Mantis II

000_1063, originally uploaded by bindykay25.

Here the Mantis is posing for the camera. It appears she is looking right at me.

Preying Mantis

000_1065, originally uploaded by bindykay25.

The other day I was cleaning up the leaves in the yard and came across this huge Preying Mantis. I ran in and grabbed my camera. I think it is the largest Mantis I have ever seen.

Changes

My blog is changing. I have changed the template a number of times, and today decided to go for the Beta version.
I'm sure this won't be the last change with me at the helm.

Aldo's October

Like September, here is an excerpt from A Sand County Almanac for October where he discusses the annual arrival of the hunter...

"Early risers feel at ease with each other, perhaps because, unlike those who sleep late, they are given to understatement of their own achievements. Orion, the most widely traveled, says literally nothing. The coffee pot, from its first soft gurgle, underclaims the virtues of what simmers within. The owl, in his trysyllabic commentary, plays down the story of the night's murders. The goose on the bar, rising briefly to a point of order in some inaudible anserine debate, lets fall no hint that he speaks with the authority of all the far hills and the sea."

Enjoy!

Another busy week...

It has been one of those weeks where it seems there isn't a whole lot of extra time to sit and write. I did manage to get a short hike in though (as it takes precedence over most other things). Larry and I, with our friend Jed, did a hike in Millcreek canyon. Our trip took us to the SLC overlook. I was able to take some photos of the turning leaves.



















































My sister (electric.banana.) has informed me that I should utilize Flickr since I do download a lot of photos. I will have to check it out and see how that will work for me.


G'day

A Beautiful Sunday

After the rains cleared and the temperatures rose above 50 degrees, Larry and I decided to leave the den and venture out into the sun filled day.
We headed east up through some of our favorite neighborhoods. With the sun warming our skin and the fresh, cool, crisp air filling our lungs, we made our way up the foothills and found our way to my Aunt's house. We stopped and chatted with my Aunt and Uncle. Most importantly, Larry got to play with his favorite dog, Chester......









































After play time was over, we decided to stop by a roadside cafe for a late breakfast. "Eggs in the City" is a pretty popular Sunday morning eatery, so the 1/2 hour wait just gave us an excuse to play with the camera.
















After some fabulous french toast and Eggs Benny, we head back home. Along the way I stopped to take a picture of the street. I just thought it looked neat at the time.

September

My love for Aldo Leopold and his writings is the purpose of this post. As a granddaughter of a life long farmer, I find a kinship in Leopold. As a teacher, I find his writings insightful. As a hope to be future naturalist, I find his words inspiring.

In a Sand County Almanac, he chronicles his farm month by month. Since autumn has made its presence known, at least here in the Rockies, here is an excerpt from September:

There is peculiar virtue in the music of elusive birds. Songsters that sing from top-most boughs are easily seen and as easily forgotten; they have the mediocrity of the obvious. What one remembers is the invisible hermit thrush pouring silver chords from impenetrable shadows; the soaring crane trumpeting from behind a cloud; the prairie chicken booming from the mists of nowhere; the quail's Ave Maria in the hush of dawn. - A Sand County Almanac

Can God be found in a bag of Pears?

This evening, having just returned from a nice walk around the neighborhood, an older gentlemen and his little chubby dog came walking up to our front porch.

This man has been living just a few doors down for about 3 months now. He lives with his daughter and her husband, his clothes are a least 2 sizes too large, his dog's body collar is at least 2 sizes too small (too many scraps under the table). He walks his dog a few times a day, but limits the walk to about 5 or 6 houses. His shoes barely make it off the ground, thereby scuffing his shoes all the way up and down the street.

If I'm outside, and I see him walk by, I say hello but can't get much more across to him because he is hard of hearing and his little dog likes everyone on the street to know of his presence by loud, yappy, barking.
We usually have this encounter at least once a week. Today, however, ended a little differently.

As he made his way back down the street, he walked up to the porch, and asked if we go to a church. My initial response was a learned response from my days living in the Bible Belt of the South when people would pull over on the side of the road and ask me if Jesus Christ is my Savior: "I don't know you, you don't know me, therefore my personal private relationships are non of your business."

I looked at the little old man and his yelping dog under his feet, and realized that he wasn't intentionally trying to offend me. "No," I said. "For very personal reasons." I said this hoping that the word "personal" would give him the respectful out. Unfortunately this retired Baptist preacher was not about to allow that to be the end of the conversation. "If you go to bed tonight, are you ready to die?" " Will you go to heaven?" WHAT??? Does this guy know something I don't? Has he set some explosives in my backyard or what?

Now I have a real problem with people just walking up to another, usually a complete stranger, asking questions regarding some of the most personal and private matters a human being has. To me its like walking up to a complete stranger and asking, "When you go to bed tonight will you wake up sexually fulfilled?" Most people would look at me like I was crazy, tell me to bleep myself, and possibly smack me across my face. Why? Because its non of my business. Then why is it okay to ask such questions regarding God, salvation, and religion? Do people feel this insatiable need to bugger themselves into others lives? Do they get some sort of high from feeling morally superior because they already know the answers to their own 20 questions? Or do they really feel that they are in some way trying to spread the Word?

I looked at this man barely able to stand, and saw that he truly felt that he was trying to share his love of God. He seemed a caring and thoughtful man, but I felt a bit stonewalled. Generally, this brings out the defensive in me. Although I felt his attempt was a bit misguided, it appeared that he was honest in his request. "Thank you for your concern, but I am very happy where I am," I politely replied. He offered to take us to church with him, I declined. He slowly turned away, little chubster still yapping at me, and began his journey back down to his house. I felt like I wanted to reach out to him, but words had left me.

Part of me feels bad that that was the first real conversation we had. How will this taint future discussions? Will there be future discussions? Will there be this large brick wall we will have to look through in order to share words again, or just a big elephant?

Maybe I will offer a bag of recently picked pears to him. Nothing like sweet, fresh, juicy pears to get conversation going. After all, God is in the details. God can be found in a bag a pears, can't He?

Summer has left the building

Autumn has arrived with a vengeance. Its seems (and really was) just 90 degrees last week. I will be surprised if we hit 50 degrees today. Its not that I don't like the cooler weather, I actually prefer it, but it seems like a 40 degree drop in just a matter of weeks is a little extreme. I wonder if there will be any fall colors this year with the mountains already receiving snow?

I guess I better get to the mountains now. Look forward to what I hope are decent pics of fall foliage in the coming days.

For now though, I just have to add these......

Larry looks a bit tired here, i think he just woke up, but Zoey appears quite comfy.

I'll be the first to admit...I go a little nutty when it comes to my animals. Not dress them up in outfits nutty, but a little nutty with the toys and camera......and the treats......and the kitty condos...and the.......kidding (not really!)

Aspens

Another day at the meat processing plant.

Just a little blog filler for the day.

This morning I spent as I usually do on Wednesdays , at St. Marks Hospital volunteering in the Recovery Unit, or what I refer to as the "chop shop." If you ever really thought that medicine is not a money machine, then you are about as naive as I was when I started there 7 months ago. The patients come in post op, get off their anesthesia, get injected with multiple medications, and are carted off to other areas of the hospital. Visualize a rotating belt normally seen in factories, but instead of dead chickens or computer parts, visualize cousin Mary who just had a hysterectomy, Aunty Margie just had her L5-6 fused, and Grampa Joe who has just had his gall bladder ripped out. After about 45 minutes in recovery they are off to the races to the next level of over priced "care."

Do I sound bitter? To be honest, I like most of the nurses and the orderlies. Generally there is a sense of appreciation for my time spent there. HOWEVER.......there are some very special doctors, or surgeons that feel that all human beings are subject to their will and every demand.

Today, a doctor of the female persuasion came swaggering into the recovery area with some serious attitude. She marched up to the desk (where I sit managing phone calls, room reservations, and family notification.....yah the hospital's to damn cheap to actually pay someone to do this job. It can be extremely chaotic sometimes.) and demanded to see the family of her patients.

Problem A. I have no idea who the bleep this Beeotch is. So I very professionally ask her name. She looked at me like I had cut open her jugular. My name is Dr. Princess (a name I later found amusingly placed on her by the staff) !

Problem B. Generally, doctors come out of surgery with their patients, this is when I am informed that they are coming to recovery. This chicky doodle comes out a full hour ahead of schedule because her part of the surgery is over. Not really a problem, but a little out of the ordinary. Since I am only there 1 day a week for 4 hours, it was new to me.

I had to spend the time to locate her patient, and then call the front desk to inform them that Dr. Princess wants a conference room STAT! Meanwhile, in complete disgust at my lack of ability to read minds and the future, little Missy stands over me tapping her feet! You have got to be kidding me!!!

Apparently this individual cannot read the "volunteer" label on my bright green volunteer jacket. Once I got off the phone, I looked at her and said "okay, they will have a room for you when one comes available." I looked back down to my work. "What room will it be?" she said with contention. "I don't know since there isn't one currently available." Apparently I am unaware she is the only doctor in the hospital. She flips her head and swaggers back out with total disgust, saying something under her breath.
As she departed, I thought to myself "thank god she isn't my doctor."

I originally started volunteering for selfish reasons. I was considering a transition from teaching into medicine. I will say 95% of the time, everyone is very respectful, but it is the system as a whole that leads one to believe that this is no different than spending your day in some manufacturing plant or fortune 500 corporation. At the end of the day, its all about the money.
The thing that disgusts me most is that these are people, sick people who have had major surgery, and it just doesn't sit well with me to have so little time and concern over their well being. I think it says it all that my patient list; which has the surgery info and doctor name, lists their insurance company information right next to the patient's name. Someday they will just skip the name all together and just put account number in its place.

Opa!!!

This weekend was the Greek Festival at the Holy Trinity Cathedral in downtown SLC.
It was a madhouse, but a good time was had by all. We decided to go early on Friday to beat the crowds. At 4:30 the lines were only a half hour long. By the time we got our food and sat down, the line exceeded an hour wait! I love Greek food, but even I wouldn't wait that long for some Dolmathes and a Gyro.
After eating and watching the dancers, we visited the newly restored Cathedral. They did a fabulous job on the restoration. We were able to catch a short service and choir performance. Afterwards we filled up on the many pastries.

Saturday evening we went to the University of Utah game. Unfortunately I forgot my camera and was unable to take any pictures of the stadium, game, or scenic backdrop. The photos here are from the teams website.
Larry loves his alumni and loves following Utah sports. So we often find ourselves at games. This weekend was the first home game of the season. The Utes creamed N. Arizona 45-7. I enjoy football, but I found myself spending more time watching the people around me than paying attention to the game. For instance right next to us was a bunch of kids (in their 20s but acting 16) loading up their Coke's with rum. By the 4th quarter it was getting really interesting.

Sitting right in front of us was Mr. and Mrs Uppity Snuppity. They showed up with their matching fold away seat (we are in bleachers - cheap seats), matching sweatshirts, jackets, and blankets. Apparently they were expecting a deep freeze while there. I new I was in trouble when they pulled out their trail mix and dried bananas for their snack while Larry and I scarfed down hamburgers and Kettle corn. The male in the couple had a tizzy because when I stood up in excitement (imagine that happening at a football game!) as my foot every so slightly brushed against his lovely little port-a-seat. It appears that they are also season ticket holders. I told Larry he gets to sit behind him next time.

We finished off the weekend with a nice autumnish 6-mile hike at City Creek. Again, I forgot the camera. I was going to snap some photos of the newly changing colors. Some of the maples and scrub oak are already turning red. I will hope to remember my camera next time I am there, but for the time being I have found a website that has some nice photos. Check it out. http://travel.webshots.com/album/488975568VqMpeP

Being Home

Now that I have nearly crossed over the 2 year mark of my return to the land of Zion, I wanted to sit back and reflect on the experiences that have come my way.

When I chose to come back to the town of my roots, I did so not wanting to "come home." I knew that the home I once new was no more. I wanted to come back to Utah and to Salt Lake to start new but in a familiar place. I wanted to make my own home, my own space within the comfortable arms of the Wasatch mountains. I was fully aware it wouldn't be easy. There is a different mind set here, parts of which I subscribe to, others that I vehemently do not, but that can be found in most any community. I can honestly say that I am home, my home.

That all being said, I have noticed some strange idiosyncrasies, most of which I had forgotten over the 14 years I was gone.

Fry Sauce - This lovely concoction is a staple in the fast food diet. My first reminder of this dish was at a Greek shop downtown when I was asked "would you like fry sauce for an extra $.35." I stared into space and then started to laugh as I said yes. I had completely forgotten about this ketchup-Mayo mix. Nothing like adding a little fat to those lean mean French fries.

Some of the most annoying, stupid jingles on the radio I have ever heard. If I have to listen to the Arnie impersonation for Gold's Gym, or the Low Book Sales jingle one more time, I will scream!

Young mother's syndrome- The other day I happened to be walking around a park close to my home when coming towards me was what could only be called NASCAR via stroller. As these mom's blew by me (some with double wide's), I was shocked to see that everyone was at least 10 years my junior. People start procreating at a very young age here, at least compared to the rest of the nation. This craze in child rearing seems to cross all cultural, economic, and religious lines. I figure it is something they are adding to the water system so they can keep the marketing mantra for Utah as "Family Friendly."

Big, thick, cluncky shoes. Many of the younger girls wear these massive shoes. I am not sure if this is isolated to just this area, but they look like an attempt at high heels while still maintaining the "flat" appearance. All I can say is I hope the U is producing more podiatrists for the future.

Love of 80s music. Now this is one that I like. Just yesterday I heard The Cure, Depeche Mode, The Smiths, and Yaz while running to the grocery store. Tonight returning from the airport I heard Alphaville. How many radio stations out there play that group anymore? I have to say that I am getting a little sick of the Violent Fems.

Haunted Houses. Little did I know when I left here many years ago that most of the rest of the human race didn't go to level of celebrating Halloween the way they do here. I really like it, always have. The houses are open from September until the first of November for all your freakish fun requirements.

The liquor laws......well not much needed to say about this. There have been improvements made (I can have a glass of wine with dinner now), but it still has its irksome quirks.

A linguist I met in Morocco said she could tell there was an accent when I spoke, but couldn't detect what it was. Utahns actually have their own dialect (a study came out just after I moved back). That's why I say pellow rather than pillow.

Sadly, only about 10% of Utahns actually go out and enjoy the beautiful nature that surrounds them.

There are only two general groups of people living in Utah. This line is drawn with church membership. Better said, if you're Jewish, Catholic, Lutheran, Hindu, or Atheist you are a member of the church of "Non Mormon." If you are a member, even if you aren't really practicing or even believe in the teachings, you are Mormon. That's it! Unfortunately, this religious line is also generally a political one. However, I have heard in the underground networks that there is a small ripple of LDS that are burning their republican card memberships. Shhhh.
(* These statements are my observations and opinions. Don't leave an annonoymous comment of "Mormon Hater." The above mentioned observations are less to do with LDS doctrine and more to do with cultural dynamics of power.)

There is nothing like RCWilley's Weekend Sales! As an added bonus with that lovely sofa or dinette set, come in for the free Hot Dogs!

That's all I can think of right now. Its time to call it a day.

Just another day....

Today is a bit drizzly. I had hoped to get out into the mountains, but I am not so sure that is going to happen today. I suppose I will head down to the library to check out my next "book of the month" installment.
Hopefully my next writing will be a little more interesting.

All Alone

For the last week I have been alone, just me and my kittens. I am quite use to these solitary bleeps in my life. The hubby, both a military reservist and airline pilot, finds himself gallivanting around the globe weekly. Being alone here in Salt Lake is much better than in my previous state of residence (Florida). There is so much to do here. Yesterday after work, I went to City Creek Canyon, which starts just a few blocks from downtown, hiked for 5 miles, came home, nuked some leftovers, and snuggled in with my recent arrival from Netflix, the latest installment of my British who-done-it.
To many this may sound like a boring way to spend an evening, but I love it. My hubby, with his never ending ambitions, can drive me crazy with his ADD. He is always going a million miles a minute. I relish these pauses in between the fast forwards of my life with him.
Of course, I do have my "list of things to do" before he comes home. I think I have one thing nicked off, and he comes home tomorrow. Oh well, there's always the next trip.