27 September 2007

Thursday Night's Alright For Fighting

I went to a MMA gym tonight (that's mixed martial arts for those not in the know). A guy at work, Zach, asked me if I wanted to go to his gym with him to do a little kickboxing. I thought it wouldn't hurt to check it out. Oh, it hurts. It hurts big time! Two and a half hours later, I crawled out. I can't imagine how I'm sore I'm going to be tomorrow.
We started out with kickboxing and then I learned some beginning Jiu Jitsu. I practiced with a woman named Rebbecca who has been training for quite a while. I most likely weighed 40 lbs more than her but she could really hold me down. It was pretty awesome. She was really patient with me and very encouraging. We practiced on each other for about an hour. It felt amazing when I finally got a move down. Everyone there knew I was an amateur but didn't treat me like one. Everyone wanted to know my name and whether or not I was coming back. I think I could really get into this. It might be just what I need to achieve my fitness goals. I desperately want to be lean and strong and healthy. I'm not running the marathon anymore (I know-I'm one week away!), but I'm hobbling after about mile 18 on my long runs. I really wouldn't be able to finish. I can reserve my spot for next year though. I'm really going to work on strengthening my hip so that I'd be able to push through the long runs. But for now I need something else to train for. This might be the ticket. It's something that interests me and I'd be paying alot of money for it, which would ensure my attendance. And don't worry, I'm not actually going to fight anybody. I just want to train like I am. I know there were some concerns. Put your fears aside. I'm too tender-hearted.

22 September 2007

My Love For Pearl Jam

I remember how it started. It was the year 1992 and I just began my freshman year at Hudson High School. I had a big, fat crush on Mark Rondina who was a year older than me. Oh my gosh! He was so dreamy! I was walking behind him one day and he had on a shirt that said, "9 out of 10 kids prefer crayons to guns". I thought this was a nice statement and told him that I liked his shirt. I didn't realize that it was associated with Pearl Jam. He smiled and started talking about how much he liked Pearl Jam and how he thought it was cool that I did too. I totally pretended to know what he was talking about. I just wanted a reason to talk to him. So yeah, I immediately went out and got the album Ten, so that next time I could be in the know. Well, turns out that they were actually wicked good. I genuinely loved their music. I thought Eddie Vedder had the all time sexiest voice. My favorite song ended up being Yellow Ledbetter. You can't understand a single word he's saying, but you can feel his angst. I listened to the band through the 90's, then it sort of died down for a while. But recently, at work, I've been listening to KBER 101.1 (Utah's only rock station) and my love for Yellow Ledbetter, and Pearl Jam in general, has been resurrected. I'm convinced that I will fall desperately in love with the first man that can play me Yellow Ledbetter on the guitar and sing like Eddie Vedder.

How Did I Get Here?

There's been alot on my my mind the past week or so. I guess I've been wondering how I got so far away. Far away from what I know is right and how my commitment to those things has changed. I remember being someone that would serve no matter how inconvenient it was. I remember waking up early and reading the scriptures because I wanted to think about what I had learned all day. Back then prayer seemed very natural. I was excited about building a better relationship with my Heavenly Father. I was always at church activities and really made it a priority to do the best I could in the callings I was given. I remember being very happy.

Things have changed quite a bit and I'm having a hard time pin-pointing how it happened. I guess I just became lazy in one thing. That thing became another, and then none of it seemed as important and didn't hold the same value that it once did. Some things in my life didn't go exactly as I hoped they would and I suffered some heartache. I'm sure that I placed the blame and anger on God rather than looking at the situations and experiences as something that would make me stronger in the end.

The sad part is that I realize things need to change in my life but making those steps is so hard. Why did it seem so easy previously? It was just naturally part of my life. Now, intense effort is needed and I'm not getting the same results. I'll be honest, sometimes it gets really unmotivating to continue to make progress. My head tells me that the end result is not worth the effort to get there. But I know it is. It's got to be.

Bottom line is that I love the gospel. I know what's good, and right, and true. Bottom line is that I won't turn my back on that, and that's why the fight to get happy again is on. Watch me.

16 September 2007

Maybe Next Time You Could Come Over

Today I woke up because of an early morning phone call. I did try to go back to sleep, but sleep wasn't taking over. So instead of just laying in bed mulling over random thoughts, I decided to make breakfast. This consisted of multi-grain pancakes and some succulent honeydew melon. I sat outside on the steps, ate my pancakes and played my guitar. I'm thinking that I should spend my Sunday mornings like this a little more frequently. Anyone want to come over next week?

15 September 2007

About Super

Yes, this spotlight is going to be about my wonderfully resilient fish, Super. I rescued him and 3 of his pals from a wedding table centerpiece five years ago. I don't enjoy pets, but my tender little heart couldn't stand the thought of all these fish being flushed alive. I had to do something. I took them home and bought them a large glass bowl. I didn't realize that the proper protocol for putting fish in a fish bowl is that there should be one gallon of water to every fish. I think I bought a one gallon bowl for all 4. My bad. I named them Super, Duper, Frick, and Fly. And yes, I could tell them apart. They had very distinctive markings. I pay attention to those things. I remember coming home each day from school and wondering when I was going to find one, or all four, belly up. I mean, these were ten cent goldfish from Petsmart. I'm sure they weren't the highest quality of goldfish ever produced. As a kid, I recall winning my share of these fish at various carnival events and they wouldn't even last the night. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Those months became a year, and those fish were still kicking. All 4 of them! I must say that I was a very attentive caretaker at the time. I fed them at the same time everyday. I also blew oxygen into their bowl through a straw daily so as not to get stagnant water. I changed their water frequently. I even switched out their bowl decorations every now and then to eliminate the depression that inevitably comes when things stay the same for too long. But after that first year, they started to die off, and in an order where the name still made sense. Duper was the first to croak. Super Frick and Fly were left. Then Frick kicked the bucket. He was survived by Super Fly. Super and Fly were together for quite a while. At that point I decided to invest in a fish tank. They earned it. Their longevity amazed me. Fly died about two years ago, leaving Super by himself. The tragic part is that he got too weak to swim and was sucked up into the filter. I remember coming in that night after hanging out with "The Blondes" and not being able to find him. I finally saw him with half his body inside the filter and the other half just swinging limply out. My tender little heart! I had a real hard time seeing him that way. I called Natalie (it was 1 am) who immediately came over and pried his body from the filter. She understood the delicacy of the situation and told me that I should probably leave the room while she did the extraction. I agreed. That's a true friend right there. We had a little memorial service near the toilet and then the ceremonial flushing. We did go to the store the next day to try and find the surviving Super some new tank mates. We picked out two winners. I named them Boom-Boom (after Tony Hawk's Boom Boom Huck Jam tour) and Ya-Ya (after the kid in The Sandlot). They didnt last the week. But it was ok. I didn't have enough time to get attached to them. I still have Super. I feel a little guilty because I haven't been taking very good care of him lately. I left for Girl's Camp without asking a neighbor to come over and feed him. How could I have forgotten that? I came back and he was swimming sideways. He bounced back pretty quick. One month I forgot to change his filter (I do it on the first of each month) and his water started to turn cloudy and brown. It didn't effect him. He's so incredibly resilient. I conditioned him to come to the top of the tank whenever I turn on his tank light. The only time I turn on that light is when I feed him. He knows. And he comes and gets it. Sometimes I tease him and just turn on the light for kicks and giggles. I should probably stop that though. I don't want him to develop trust issues with me.
He's a good pal. Come over and meet him if you haven't already. You just might get smitten. I know I am.

07 September 2007

Uhm, What I'm Trying to Say Is...

Wouldn't you know it. I have car trouble again. I mean, you would think that the '91 Volvo station wagon would be in prime condition. It's not that old! The awesome thing is that I diagnosed the problem myself--broken fuel pump and assembly. The AAA tow guy was impressed. I ended up being right too! But that is beside the point. I needed a ride to work, and my favorite man rose to the occassion. I choose to tell myself that it wasn't becuase all the work falls on him if I'm not there, but because he couldn't go another day without seeing me. I know that it's the latter. I just know it! But that is also beside the point. The point is...oh wait, I'm not sure this had a point. I ate a hamburger tonight. I also waxed my eyebrows.

06 September 2007

About Paul

I am in awe of my dad, Paul. I was laying in bed yesterday morning thinking about nothing in particular, and then my thoughts turned to my family. We are all so different, and when you put us all together it creates the most amazing dynamic. I want to focus on my dad. My dad is very intimidating, if you don't know him. Once you talk to him, he's a giant kitten. He's always been involved in automotives. His father owned a automotive repair shop, and he basically grew up there. He was repairing cars when he was very young. He even had a stint as a race car driver. He fought in Vietnam as a Navy Seabee. The only time I've ever seen my dad cry was in Washington DC when he was looking at names on the Vietnam memorial. Even then, it was subtle. When he came back from Vietnam he went back to racing. He was racing alot on Sunday. He started thinking that there was probably something better to do than racing on that day. He started going to church. He served in the Hamburg, Germany mission when he was 24. He met my mom there. The Mission President asked him to write her as a "retention project" since she was a very new convert. He sure retained her. Once he was married, he started his own business. He bought a franchise or two of "Snap-On-Tools"-the best tools in the world. American made and of the highest quality. Dad is very patriotic. He'd do anything for his country. He supports it in every way. He specifically looks for products that are American made, keeping money in this country. He does like European cars though. Volvo's especially. It's all about quality. He worked hard for our family. We rarely saw him. He was up early and came home late. He even worked on weekends. Occasionally he would show up to our Little-League baseball games. That was a real treat for us. He sponsored our teams as well. Sometimes on Saturdays, he would take a break from working on his truck and play catch with us. I loved those times.

Growing up, I didn't really appreciate my dad. I didn't understand his way of showing that he cared about me. I was the only girl among three brothers. My dad is a man's-man. He didn't really know how to relate to me. I remember thinking that he wasn't a very good dad. He was never there for me. And when I tried to talk to him, he just didn't get me. He was all business with me. Of course I was young and immature at the time, and you don't really understand why your dad isn't like the dad down the street that brings flowers to his young daughter and tell her that he loves her on a daily basis. "I love you" was only said on birthdays. He just was never there!

But now I understand my dad. I'm mature enough to see that he has intense love for me and my brothers. He might be rough in his voice, but the love is there. I realize that he shows his love through what he does, such as supporting our family, making sure we were all well fed and clothed. He made sure that we had music lessons, and were involved in sports and the arts. He made sure that we all had an opportunity for a college education. He made sure that we had vehicles to drive. He encouraged and supported my three brothers and I on missions. Recently, I have really needed his advice on certain things in my life, and have really appreciated his fix-it attitude, and the fact that he just wants to get something done about it. I've needed that. Now, to me, he's the most amazing dad a person could have. When I was laying in bed, thinking about him, tears started welling up in my eyes. I was overwhelmed with love for him. He has taught me well. He has greatly contributed to the person that I am. Now that I'm 29, I don't really need a dad as much I did when I was younger. So he's there as a great friend.

I want to share a good story about how cool my dad is. Matt Eyring (Elder Henry B. Eyring's son) was in my ward in Massachussetts a couple a years ago. He was talking to my mom telling her how awesome my dad was. And then he said, "I wish I had a dad like that". No lie! True story! That's MY dad!

I Want You

I am a huge Will Farrell fan. He is a comedic genius. When I think of the opening scene in Blades of Glory, with him skating to The Stroke by Billy Squier, I laugh right out loud. It doesn't matter where I'm at. And now I'm pleasantly suprised that he can act in slightly more serious roles. I watched Stranger Than Fiction the other day. What a brilliant movie. It was creative, smart, and new. And Will Farrell was absolutely perfect. I love, LOVE, when Harold brings Anna the "flours". That scene was perfect in every way. When he said, "I want you", I melted into a little puddle. How would that be?! Someone interested in you tells you exactly what they want, but in the sweetest most vulnerable way. He had nothing to lose. I truly am sick of the guessing games with men. I'm tired of wondering what they're thinking. I want someone that knows what they want. I'll give the green light, and then they'd just best go for it. Put your heart out on the line guys! A little courage, please! I promise to be gentle.