Art After Dark (months later)

I promised my sister that as a pre-birth gift I would finally tend to my blog. Since she will be having her child tomorrow I'm cutting it pretty close. She's probably already asleep at this point. But....it's the thought that counts, right? This one's for you sis. ...And happy birthday to my newest nephew!

Awhile ago I attended our ward date night. It's a lovely monthly event intended to assure us all that (a) dating is not scary and (b) you don't have to set a temple date after one date. Unless you want to. I can't speak for anyone else but it sure has worked for me. I no longer have nightmares about dates.

So the theme was Art After Dark. My date and I started in the portrait room where we learned how to turn an egg shape into a face and then, in theory, turn that face into something that resembles our date. Below are the results.

This is me. Fairly accurate I would say. Obviously my head is larger at the top to accommodate my very big brain. Also yes, I am that pale. Who even knew they made white charcoal pen/crayon things? Well they did. They do. Thank goodness.

This is my date. Or is it Jesus? You be the judge. He said I made him look angry. That was unintentional. I was going for pensive. But my art skills are lacking, I'll just admit that right now.

We then headed to the painting room. We missed the instructions for this portion of the evening so we kind of winged it. And speaking of winged, here is a piece I like to call pear guitar. I didn't mean to draw a pear, but when my creative juices get flowing apparently food is what manifests itself. Also apparently I don't know what a guitar looks like. Anyway the guitar (pear) is sitting in a pool of mini marshmallows but also it has feathery wings and may take off at any moment. And there's a centaur. As you can tell by his expression and shrugged shoulders he doesn't know what he's doing in the picture either. But boy it sure is windy with those guitar (pear) wings flapping.

This is my date's picture of me snowboarding in a pool of whipped cream. Pretty straightforward. My snowboarding skills are slightly exaggerated but otherwise this is more or less true to life. I really do have those wings.

This is a little "in my spare moment on the date" picture my date drew of me. Well. It started out as me but quickly became a picture of Robert Plant. Not too shabby.

So if anyone is looking for a date activity may I suggest a little art. I think you might enjoy it. And obviously you don't actually have to be good at art (see above).

Oh, I thought you'd died.

That is what my mom said to my dad after he got her number and then didn't call her for four months. But I feel it is probably applicable in this blogging-absence situation. It's been too long. I've been meaning to update my blog since about a week after my last post (I give myself a week to feel self-satisfied about the fact that I posted at all) and what can I say, life's just been busy. I've been in demand. Things have been happening.

Well that may be an exaggeration. Mostly I just work. And drive (see previous post). But still, it's always nice to see that a blog you check has been updated. And I feel that. I mean, I for one know that I'm always disappointed to see someone hasn't updated their blog in who knows how long. Like, lets say, since approximately June 8, 2008. Or maybe October 29, 2008. You have to wonder, "what happened to that person? Are they okay?" and if they are okay then you're a little bugged that they don't think more about you and how you would like to spend your free time at work checking in on them.

Anyway. In an effort to not be one of THOSE people (too late?) I am here to update my blog! Post something new! Just say anything! ....Plus I noticed today that I've received an idle threat about losing readership. So it's time to get back to it. And why not stage my comeback with a few highlights in the month (or two) since I last posted? So in a nutshell, since my last blog post I've done the following (in no particular order):

1. I threw an orange into the sea. And I meant it.

2. I friended my mom on facebook. Finally I can see what she's REALLY up to.

3. I started playing soccer once a week. I've discovered I'm not that good at soccer. I'm also not good at avoiding getting kicked in the legs. But I'm sure my bruises go really well with my church outfits.

4. I went to Magic Mountain and threw up after riding Goliath. Actually this may have happened before the last time I posted. Either way it was unfortunate for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that I love Goliath (the ride, not that man) and I hated to have it end that way (bent over a trash can). And I now curse the day they invented Dejavu.

5. I sang "That's Amore" loudly along with a full restaurant of people. It was lovely.

6. I did not watch the Super Bowl. But I know what happened. Man.

7. I got an unexpected day off from work, courtesy of the FBI. Used it to Christmas shop. Anyone who got a gift can thank the FBI. Anyone who did not get a gift...take it up with the FBI. They only gave me the one day.

8. I started watching The Biggest Loser and actually have to put in a decent effort to not cry when they send people home.

9. I finally obtained a personal shopper. After all these years. She bought me new clothes for work and apparently it was needed because when my boss walked by my office he stopped and did a double take and said "did you dress up today?? You look nice!" as if I don't wear business casual stuff to work 3 out of the 5 days. Hmph.

10. I've driven 5,330 miles to and from work since my last post. Which means it's time yet again to have my car serviced. Sigh. My poor little car.

Hopefully I'll be a little more blog vigilant in 2009. I hate to make promises (goes against my lawyerly fibers) but I'll see what I can do.

On The Road Again

Ugh, I'm tired of commuting. This week I was sitting in my car on the 405 minding my own business hoping that traffic would start moving when BAM! A motorcylist stupidly tried to pass a bus in the carpool lane and knocked into my car breaking off part of my sideview mirror. Of course the guy didn't stop. Just kept right on going 70mph as I watched. And of course I didn't give chase. My lane was going zero mph and, as much as I love my vehicle, it's selling point is not that it can go from 0 to 60 in 60 seconds. So that would've been an exercise in futility. Plus as a general rule I feel it is a bad idea to illegally swerve into a carpool lane. Those double yellow lines demand respect. And I was by myself in the car. So...double jeopardy. I would've been fine.

On the upside this week in the car I was so bored with the usual radio stations that I flipped to a country station and decided to listen for a bit. It was fantastic. It's like a bunch of 2min stories about everything from growing up country to losing your girl to punishing your cheating boyfriend or abusive husband. I found it highly entertaining. But sometimes I felt like the songs strayed from their storytelling ways and tried to wax philosophical. And that's where they go terribly wrong (in my opinion). Take the following line for example: "tryin' to make someone care for you the way I do is like tryin' to catch the rain."

The implication to me is that both tryin' to get this girl to love you and tryin' to catch rain are impossible activities. (And sad ones). But....isn't catching the rain possible? I feel like it's not even that hard to catch rain. I mean...weren't rain barrels created for that express purpose? To catch the rain? Can't I walk outside with a bucket while it's raining and trap myself some of that water? I don't know. Maybe I just don't speak country fluently.

Which brings me to the deepest line of that song which - incidentally - is also part of the title of the song: "and if love is really forever, I'm a winner at a losin' game." ....What? What does that even mean?

I feel like one guy came up with that line and then his friend/bandmate was like "ooh, that's good. Yes." and the drummer chimed in "wow. Profound. Seriously, that is amazing." And then later the guy tried the line out on his girlfriend and she told him it gave her chills and even showed him her arm to prove it. But...so....love is a losing game? And you're winning because....you'll always be in love? Lame. I still say it doesn't make sense. It's totally an emperor's clothing situation. People have just accepted your non-sensical ramblings because you have a catchy tune and a nice warble. But I see through you! There are no clothes at all! You can't fool me! (and this is where I break into a semi-maniacal laugh in my car).

But...like I said. I'm a country novice. Maybe in a few weeks I'll be amening those kinds of deep observations with the best of them. And also I'll be wearing a cowboy hat. ....I spend a lot of time in my car.

Obamaland

I hate to disappoint those who may be under the impression that I'm about to write about Obama. Admittedly the title is deceptive that way. But I just recently returned from Chicago and, as of late, Chicago is the land of Obama and Obamaness. So it just seemed like it would be okay to use Chicago's synonym in this instance. ...Chicago is also the land of Oprahness but that's old news.

This wasn't my first trip to Chicago. My first trip was when I was nine or so and we were out there for the summer for my dad's work. I remember thinking it was fun but I suppose I really only took away three things from Chicago:
1. The McDonalds served pizza
2. There was always someone dressed as a giant bag of popcorn handing out free little bags of popcorn at the park
3. A memorization of all Raffi songs since that was all we ever listened to in the car due to the fact that we carpooled most places with a family that had a 4 year old kid. I hated that stupid tape.

So on this, my second trip to Chicago, I wasn't sure what to expect. I mean, maybe the McDonalds with pizza would still be around, but I had no real hope of getting free popcorn in the park and I figured no cabbies would be playing Raffi in their vehicles. So what else would Chicago offer me? Turns out, plenty.

1. I randomly played softball with a city league team that was short a player. Yes I was wearing jeans, my slip-on Vans (read: no traction) and five layers of shirts, sweatshirts and jackets (that is not an exaggeration). No I wasn't any good. Yes the game ended early when they had to enact the mercy rule.

2. I rode the train and felt smug about it. It's odd what makes me feel like an adult.

3. The air around my hotel smelled like chocolate. It was fabulous. Everyone should get to live near a chocolate factory. Especially me.

4. I ate real Chicago deep dish pizza from Giordano's. Thank you Master Wentworth, you were right, it was amazing.

5. I got to see one of my favoritest friends and catch up and eat cookies and see her home and family and watch her adorable daughter walk around all night with only one red cowboy boot on.

6. I dominated at Nertz. But....that's not unique to my being in Chicago. heh heh heh

Alright enough with the list. Really Chicago was awesome. I think it may be my new favorite big city. It was so clean and pretty. Though, at the time, freezing. Still, I forgive Chicago its harsh weather given that it is November and I am somewhat spoiled by the warm weather in the particular area I live.

Anyway. Even though I didn't see Obama or Oprah I still loved my Chicago trip. And I fully intend to go back again sometime when I don't have to spend my days in the underground of a hotel sitting in seminars and classes and whatnot.

So! Linz be prepared for me to take you up on that guest room offer, and I fully expect we'll have time to find that gourmet popcorn next time (I have good memories of Chicago and popcorn). And to my softball teammate, have the pizza and cards ready. Maybe we should go back to Pepper where you and your partner actually have a chance. And yes. That is a challenge.

Sigh.

I cannot wait for November 4th to come and go. How about everyone just vote yes on Prop 8 and we call it a day?

Good Morning Baltimore!

I got into Baltimore very very early this morning. So early that I think most people would consider it "last night" but whatever. It was morning. The plane ride was fine - despite the fact that I'm pretty sure the seat I was in was as old as aviation itself (it kind of rocked like it wasn't completely bolted to the plane and was so threadbare that I'm fairly certain I was just sitting on a wooden plank with a piece of old blue cloth on top) and I got a whiff of the man next to me every time he moved and the smell was unpleasant. Overall though...not a terrible trip.

Riding the shuttle from the airport to my hotel was interesting. My coworkers had warned me that I was in a high-crime area of Baltimore (why not, what better place to hold a legal conference, right?) but I didn't see any crime last night. Sure I was only in the van for less than 10 minutes once we got into the city and we had to stop seven, yes seven, different times to let cops or firemen or ambulances pass with their sirens wailing, but still. I didn't personally witness any crimes.

Admittedly it would be hard to see any crimes from my middle seat in the van squished between an older woman whose eyebrows moved up and down with every word she spoke and a twitchy guy who seemed annoyed that anyone else even got in the shuttle he was in, but I still thought "high crime area? Hm. I'll probably see something." But no. Saw nothing. Except a couple different random make-out sessions of middle aged folks on the street. What the-?

Oh shuttle rides. How I love thee. Let me count the reasons.
1. The driver who I'm convinced was taught that when you drive you have to push the pedal all the way to the floor. All the time. Whichever pedal you're pushing.
2. I was the last one in the van (well...for a time) and when I got to the door and looked in the two back rows were full and there was just the front row with one guy sitting closest to the exit with his bag protectively saving the last open seat next to him. I stood there for a minute debating whether I should ask the second row of women to scoot over thinking "there has to be room for all of us on here, right?" and asking the guy if there was a reason he hadn't moved all the way in on the seat to make room for any other passengers (hello inconsiderate) when finally I opened my mouth to say "hey man, is someone sitting there?" (while pointing past him) and he looked at me and said "oh, do you want to sit here?" Um yes. I do. What tipped you off? My confused standing here like "how are there no more seats?"
3. Right before we left a shuttle worker came up and asked if the driver could take one more. He said sure. I thought "oh, I guess that person will sit in the front passenger seat." Turns out that one more was two more people. A bigger guy who sat in the passenger seat and an older woman who sat next to me (on the shortest bench mind you) which forced the guy who didn't want to share the bench in the first place to remove his computer bag barrier and get used to the fact that our legs may end up touching.
4. Once the older lady was in she looked at me and then put on her rain jacket and pulled the hood down over her head holding it tight like she was afraid I might touch her and infest her with something. I was tempted to put my arm around her shoulder but in the end decided to pretend I didn't notice what she was doing.
5. Once we let the guy next to me off the shuttle I was climbing back in when the older woman asked me if I didn't mind if her husband sat next to her. Hm. It's not a totally out there request really but it was kind of odd. I mean, why are we playing musical chairs more than we have to? This is ridiculous. You really don't want to sit by me that much, eh?
6. Switching seats with husband meant I was in the front passenger seat. With our crazy driver the term "death seat" never seemed so apt. ...I think it was while I was in this seat that I saw the public canoodlers.

What a morning! I expect it will only get better from here. Can't wait.

Saturday is a special day

It's the day we get ready for Sunday.

Saturday is cleaning day. I had no appreciation for cleaning day as a child as it seemed strikingly similar to school days only with more physical labor and less recess, but now, as an adult (of sorts) I can appreciate cleaning day. I can appreciate why my mother would feel embarrassed if people came over and the house wasn't clean. That doesn't mean I like cleaning day any more than I ever did. I don't really. Cleaning is pretty low on the list of things I want to do on my day off from work. But having a clean apartment is pretty high on the list of things I want. It's hard to reconcile those two.

So I spent this morning brainstorming on how to get a clean apartment without doing any of the cleaning myself. I drew a couple diagrams and mapped out pros and cons of different options, but in the end it became clear to me that the most cost efficient thing to do was for me to just clean my place up myself. Naturally, having reached that conclusion, I threw the diagrams on the ground and decided I would attend to them later.

Now I'm at stage two of cleaning day (stage one having been the dedicated brainstorming session for alternative cleaning methods). Stage two is mental preparation. Now that I know how the day is going to go I have to get in the zone to do it. So far my mental preparation has involved shuffling some papers on my desk to make room for my computer, checking me email, deleting old texts, and deciding what background noise I want as I clean. Movie? Or music? Toughie.

Stage three is the actual cleaning. I'm not quite there yet. I'm still in the midst of stage two. Which, now that I think about it, is just avoidance. And kind of acceptance. ....Wait....What are the stages of grief again? I feel like this is all sounding kind of familiar.....
Whatever, I'm too lazy to look it up. But I know the avoidance is serious when I consider going on a run first.

Sigh. Time to clean.