I would be remiss if I did not take moment to offer a shout out to one of my the greatest people who ever graced our planet - my beloved Grandpa Floyd!
Floyd was hilarious, warm, uncomplicated, and true.
Floyd had this mischievous grin that always let you know when he was up to something. And he was always up to something!
Floyd called life as he saw it, and wasn't afraid to call a spade and spade.
Floyd LOVED golf, before golf was remotely cool.
Floyd was one of my greatest friends and was the best pal I could ask for when I lived with him and my grandma during high school.
Floyd shared a crazy bond with my Ellie that transcended everything - even his ailments over the last few days of his life. She will always be his sunshine.
We lost Floyd on New Year's Day 2005. But he made sure his Utes had the Fiesta Bowl well in hand before he went. He passed away during half time. Yes, Floyd made us smile to the very end.
Floyd was the best man, husband, father, and grandpa. EVER. And I am so happy Dave and I chose to be married on his birthday!
Happy birthday Floyd!
I love you!
P.S. SMILE DAMMIT! SMILE!
Monday, August 10, 2009
Lucky Number Seven
It's hard to believe it's been seven years! I can't seem to decide if that's because it feels like it has only been a moment, or because it feels like our life was never any different. Regardless, it's a pretty fabulous occasion - to hit seven years of marital bliss and still feel, well, blissful. So to mark this auspicious occasion, I thought I would take a moment to brag about the man I had the good sense to marry.
Dave is wicked smart. Not just keeping up with the PhD students smart. He is scoring the highest in his class while working full time smart. He literally is a rocket scientist. And I must admit I tend to smirk a little every time I get to say that!
Dave has an amazing sense of humor. He is a living embodiment of the guys from The Big Bang Theory. Seriously. And the man swears by Python and Mel Brooks. In fact, we fell in love over Young Frankenstein. No joke!
Dave is a FABULOUS dad. And his girls are hopelessly devoted to him. Dave will move heaven and earth so he can have dinner with his girls and tuck them in at night. Even if it means going back to work until two in the morning.
Dave has a refined appreciation for the finer things in life. He has been by my side on opening day for Star Wars and Star Trek. And he gets the wonder that is Firefly. Need I say more?
Dave has a ridiculously big heart. He will put himself out at a moment's notice to help anyone who might need him. When we got a call telling us my brother's basement was flooding, all I saw of Dave was a streak holding a shop vac as he ran out the door.
Last, but certainly not least, Dave is a FRAKKING AWESOME husband. He is goofy, patient, loyal, and fun. Even in our worst moments he has never wavered in his commitment to me or our family. Plus Dave is a flat out blast to live with - even if he does leave his clothes all over the floor!
Yes ladies and gentlemen, in the words of my friend Portia, "Dave is skeewompus, but in the best possible way." Amen, sister! Amen! And I am one lucky girl as a result!
Happy anniversary, cute boy!
Dave is wicked smart. Not just keeping up with the PhD students smart. He is scoring the highest in his class while working full time smart. He literally is a rocket scientist. And I must admit I tend to smirk a little every time I get to say that!
Dave has an amazing sense of humor. He is a living embodiment of the guys from The Big Bang Theory. Seriously. And the man swears by Python and Mel Brooks. In fact, we fell in love over Young Frankenstein. No joke!
Dave is a FABULOUS dad. And his girls are hopelessly devoted to him. Dave will move heaven and earth so he can have dinner with his girls and tuck them in at night. Even if it means going back to work until two in the morning.
Dave has a refined appreciation for the finer things in life. He has been by my side on opening day for Star Wars and Star Trek. And he gets the wonder that is Firefly. Need I say more?
Dave has a ridiculously big heart. He will put himself out at a moment's notice to help anyone who might need him. When we got a call telling us my brother's basement was flooding, all I saw of Dave was a streak holding a shop vac as he ran out the door.
Last, but certainly not least, Dave is a FRAKKING AWESOME husband. He is goofy, patient, loyal, and fun. Even in our worst moments he has never wavered in his commitment to me or our family. Plus Dave is a flat out blast to live with - even if he does leave his clothes all over the floor!
Yes ladies and gentlemen, in the words of my friend Portia, "Dave is skeewompus, but in the best possible way." Amen, sister! Amen! And I am one lucky girl as a result!
Happy anniversary, cute boy!
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Let me explain....
Has it really been two months since I added a post to this thing called blog? And what a post to leave on. A bit maudlin, don't you think? I'm not even sure where to begin with all that has transpired over the summer. Rather than bore you all to tears with any drawn out reminiscing, let's hit the highlights, shall we?
Dave has been traveling quite extensively for work. While it's been fabulous for him to see and do some of things he has seen and done (Don't ask! He can't tell!), the girls and I decided we like our family considerably more when we have "our Dave" around. On the bright side, Dave has a job. And a darn fine one at that!
The girls experienced yet another marvelous birthday week. (For those keeping score, they turned five and three and yes, their birthdays are a day apart.) We dined. We partied. Their beds got magnificent princess makeovers. The Ariel and Tinker Bell cakes were a hit. And I felt just a little sad as I marked the occasions of my little buddies getting bigger and more independent.
I finally finished the chapter from h&%# and sent it off to my advisor. The response? Split it in half, double it's length and detail, and voila! You shall have two chapters from one. The bright side? My advisor is finally convinced that I have the makings of a strong dissertation. Thank goodness!
So where does that leave us now?
Dave is working insane hours solidifying his position and projects for the next round of layoffs that are due next month. He is also preparing for his PhD qualification exams next week. Good times! At least GI Joe comes out this weekend. It will be manna for his soul!
I am diving into the revisions to try to get the very first, FULL draft of my thesis to my advisor by the end of next month. Tears will be shed. Gelato will be consumed. And there will be much rejoicing. I am also working on developing a religious studies curriculum for a new academic institute that is in the works. Tentatively named the Institute for Religion, Government, and Diplomacy (or Community, depending on what day it is) it looks like it could be an amazing resource for all of the area universities. (And it may be a real life academic gig for me. As for now, it's all pro bono, baby!)
Ellie starts kindergarten in two and a half weeks. (Remember in the epilogue to Harry Potter when he describes his son leaving for Hogwarts as a little bereavement? Yup. It kind of feels like that.) She alternates between excited and nervous, but is ready to be a big girl. Ellie has also decided that it is her calling in life to be a ballerina. Thus, ballet has been added to her fall schedule. And she can hardly wait. In truth, neither can I!
Ginny starts preschool at the beginning of September and has no fear whatsoever. She is ready to go. To meet and greet. To charm and amaze. Her summer has been focused on mastering the one physical skill required to enter said preschool. (For those of you who don't know what I am talking about, my sincerest apologies. I'm not about to discuss it here!) Ginny reminds me every day that she isn't little. And that she is lovely. I cannot argue with her there! (At least on the lovely part. She will always be my little munchkin.)
So there you have it. The life and times of our family. Riveting, no? I would promise to do better in the coming months, but let's be honest. A prodigious blogger I am not. Nevertheless, I shall endeavor to offer the occasional glimpse into the wonderful insanity that is our life. For now, the girls are hungry. And there are peanut butter sandwiches to be made! Tally ho!
Dave has been traveling quite extensively for work. While it's been fabulous for him to see and do some of things he has seen and done (Don't ask! He can't tell!), the girls and I decided we like our family considerably more when we have "our Dave" around. On the bright side, Dave has a job. And a darn fine one at that!
The girls experienced yet another marvelous birthday week. (For those keeping score, they turned five and three and yes, their birthdays are a day apart.) We dined. We partied. Their beds got magnificent princess makeovers. The Ariel and Tinker Bell cakes were a hit. And I felt just a little sad as I marked the occasions of my little buddies getting bigger and more independent.
I finally finished the chapter from h&%# and sent it off to my advisor. The response? Split it in half, double it's length and detail, and voila! You shall have two chapters from one. The bright side? My advisor is finally convinced that I have the makings of a strong dissertation. Thank goodness!
So where does that leave us now?
Dave is working insane hours solidifying his position and projects for the next round of layoffs that are due next month. He is also preparing for his PhD qualification exams next week. Good times! At least GI Joe comes out this weekend. It will be manna for his soul!
I am diving into the revisions to try to get the very first, FULL draft of my thesis to my advisor by the end of next month. Tears will be shed. Gelato will be consumed. And there will be much rejoicing. I am also working on developing a religious studies curriculum for a new academic institute that is in the works. Tentatively named the Institute for Religion, Government, and Diplomacy (or Community, depending on what day it is) it looks like it could be an amazing resource for all of the area universities. (And it may be a real life academic gig for me. As for now, it's all pro bono, baby!)
Ellie starts kindergarten in two and a half weeks. (Remember in the epilogue to Harry Potter when he describes his son leaving for Hogwarts as a little bereavement? Yup. It kind of feels like that.) She alternates between excited and nervous, but is ready to be a big girl. Ellie has also decided that it is her calling in life to be a ballerina. Thus, ballet has been added to her fall schedule. And she can hardly wait. In truth, neither can I!
Ginny starts preschool at the beginning of September and has no fear whatsoever. She is ready to go. To meet and greet. To charm and amaze. Her summer has been focused on mastering the one physical skill required to enter said preschool. (For those of you who don't know what I am talking about, my sincerest apologies. I'm not about to discuss it here!) Ginny reminds me every day that she isn't little. And that she is lovely. I cannot argue with her there! (At least on the lovely part. She will always be my little munchkin.)
So there you have it. The life and times of our family. Riveting, no? I would promise to do better in the coming months, but let's be honest. A prodigious blogger I am not. Nevertheless, I shall endeavor to offer the occasional glimpse into the wonderful insanity that is our life. For now, the girls are hungry. And there are peanut butter sandwiches to be made! Tally ho!
Friday, June 5, 2009
For Home’s Sake
It has been called many things: the American dream, heaven on earth, the primary residence of the heart…. The quest for it is in our blood – we yearn, dream, and work to realize it. “It” is a home. Not just a house – one can find that anywhere. But a home. The kind of home Norman Rockwell immortalized. The kind of home in which Barbara Stanwyck’s fraudulent domestic goddess was supposed to reside. The kind of home about which Bing Crosby sang. Home.
I have come to appreciate the very idea of home with increasing intensity over the past few weeks. It has been a season of changes around here – for us and for many members of my family. Some changes have been welcomed with excitement. Others with immense concern. But each change, in its own way, has pointed back home.
My parents are moving tomorrow; moving out of the home they have lived in for nearly seventeen years. They are moving to a new home near by, which will be much better for my father’s bad knees. As excited as they are, there is a twinge of sadness in the proceedings. As awful as winters have been on top of the mountain (just TRY to drive up the road to their house in a snowstorm without a four-wheel-drive vehicle!) the rest of the seasons have been equally magnificent. The sunsets alone are worth those pesky winter months. The family milestones that have occurred in and around that house were remarkable. From preparing for high school proms (not mine!) to the blessing of a child (mine!), we have enjoyed many a fabulous occasion within the confines of the old house up on the hill. And as of Tuesday, I will turn in my key. But never mind. The trappings of our family – and really the only things that really matter in creating a home – are moving with my parents and will soon fill the lovely house down on the flat.
My sweet Grandma broke her hip a few weeks ago. Later that evening, my sister and I went through her house to make sure everything was prepared for a long absence. It was sad. I love my Grandma’s house. It was MY home the year my parents moved into theirs. I did not want to miss my senior year at the high school I had attended for three years. So my grandparents opened their home to me. While my Grandma has had her ups and down during her stay at the hospital and now the rehab center, she has unabashedly wanted to make her room as much of a home as possible. Within just a few days of her arrival, she sent me to the store with specific instructions: purchase a load of M&Ms and a bowl to put them in. For as long as I can remember the hallmark of my Grandma’s home was her always plentiful junk food jar. If Grandma couldn't be in her home for the time being, she was going to bring a piece of her home with her. It seems what you really need are the things that define you – from treats to people – to make a rehab room a home.
These lessons have been timely indeed as we have struggled to keep up with myriad challenges presented by our own home – and all at the same time. From our water heater to our swamp cooler, things in our old but lovely home have begun to fall apart. And so as we have engaged in sometime lengthy repairs and installations (hello central air conditioning!) we have had our moments of frustrations as we ask the eternal questions: what now?!?! But this very afternoon, I happened upon a few pictures on the computer – the pictures from the real estate listing for a home that would become our own. I was able to see the progress we have made toward making it beautiful (ugly trees and bushes out, new shutters and window boxes in) and remembered the character that made us fall in love with it in the first place. While looking at the picture of the kitchen – my kitchen now! – I remembered fantasizing about making thanksgiving dinner for my family in it. Nearly two years later, the pictures (and accompanying memory) still give my butterflies in my stomach. That’s when it hit me. The relative cost of maintaining and improving our beloved home is low indeed. This home has become a integral part of our family’s story. This is where milestones have been and will continue to be reached. This is where memories will be made. This is where my family finds refuge, solace, and joy. In the wake of much madness, we have managed to make a home.
I have come to appreciate the very idea of home with increasing intensity over the past few weeks. It has been a season of changes around here – for us and for many members of my family. Some changes have been welcomed with excitement. Others with immense concern. But each change, in its own way, has pointed back home.
My parents are moving tomorrow; moving out of the home they have lived in for nearly seventeen years. They are moving to a new home near by, which will be much better for my father’s bad knees. As excited as they are, there is a twinge of sadness in the proceedings. As awful as winters have been on top of the mountain (just TRY to drive up the road to their house in a snowstorm without a four-wheel-drive vehicle!) the rest of the seasons have been equally magnificent. The sunsets alone are worth those pesky winter months. The family milestones that have occurred in and around that house were remarkable. From preparing for high school proms (not mine!) to the blessing of a child (mine!), we have enjoyed many a fabulous occasion within the confines of the old house up on the hill. And as of Tuesday, I will turn in my key. But never mind. The trappings of our family – and really the only things that really matter in creating a home – are moving with my parents and will soon fill the lovely house down on the flat.
My sweet Grandma broke her hip a few weeks ago. Later that evening, my sister and I went through her house to make sure everything was prepared for a long absence. It was sad. I love my Grandma’s house. It was MY home the year my parents moved into theirs. I did not want to miss my senior year at the high school I had attended for three years. So my grandparents opened their home to me. While my Grandma has had her ups and down during her stay at the hospital and now the rehab center, she has unabashedly wanted to make her room as much of a home as possible. Within just a few days of her arrival, she sent me to the store with specific instructions: purchase a load of M&Ms and a bowl to put them in. For as long as I can remember the hallmark of my Grandma’s home was her always plentiful junk food jar. If Grandma couldn't be in her home for the time being, she was going to bring a piece of her home with her. It seems what you really need are the things that define you – from treats to people – to make a rehab room a home.
These lessons have been timely indeed as we have struggled to keep up with myriad challenges presented by our own home – and all at the same time. From our water heater to our swamp cooler, things in our old but lovely home have begun to fall apart. And so as we have engaged in sometime lengthy repairs and installations (hello central air conditioning!) we have had our moments of frustrations as we ask the eternal questions: what now?!?! But this very afternoon, I happened upon a few pictures on the computer – the pictures from the real estate listing for a home that would become our own. I was able to see the progress we have made toward making it beautiful (ugly trees and bushes out, new shutters and window boxes in) and remembered the character that made us fall in love with it in the first place. While looking at the picture of the kitchen – my kitchen now! – I remembered fantasizing about making thanksgiving dinner for my family in it. Nearly two years later, the pictures (and accompanying memory) still give my butterflies in my stomach. That’s when it hit me. The relative cost of maintaining and improving our beloved home is low indeed. This home has become a integral part of our family’s story. This is where milestones have been and will continue to be reached. This is where memories will be made. This is where my family finds refuge, solace, and joy. In the wake of much madness, we have managed to make a home.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Addendum
Lest I forget or neglect, a few more things to add to my previous offerings...
Twizzlers as appetizers before dinner (Thanks, Dave!)
An unexpected birthday card from my lovely and talented niece (Thanks Mikayla! You rock! I love you too!)
A thoroughly appreciated contribution to the "Mo needs to golf" fund from my equally lovely and talented in-laws in honor of my upcoming "twenty-ninth" birthday (Ditto Gramma and Poppy!)
...carry on!
Twizzlers as appetizers before dinner (Thanks, Dave!)
An unexpected birthday card from my lovely and talented niece (Thanks Mikayla! You rock! I love you too!)
A thoroughly appreciated contribution to the "Mo needs to golf" fund from my equally lovely and talented in-laws in honor of my upcoming "twenty-ninth" birthday (Ditto Gramma and Poppy!)
...carry on!
The Finer Things
Isn't life funny? The ebb and flow and all that? As anyone who breathes knows, life come at you fast. And usually all at once. Just as you think you're getting on top of everything, life throws a curve ball at you. Yes, life is just that bold. So when that curve ball comes, it helps not to stare it down as it whizzes past your head. (Did I mention that curve ball intends to reduce you to tears at the first available opportunity?) In fact, it helps not to focus on it at all. You see, life has a way of offering proportional diversions - the little moments that bring unexpected levity, joy, and rapture to any given day. And for those diversions I will be eternally grateful. For just as the latest curve ball advanced on its potentially vicious trajectory, the finer things emerged and took my breath away. What might those things be you wonder? Well.....
Wildly dancing about the kitchen to the Tarzan soundtrack with my very own Twila Tharp and Martha Graham
The ambient sounds of lawnmowers around the neighborhood accompanied by the exquisite smell of freshly cut grass
Trying to dance about in the car to the Tarzan soundtrack while all of the drivers around us stare and laugh (Did I mention the girls are on a Tarzan kick?)
Beating another car to the merge on Victory Road while driving to my Grandma's house for our weekly visit
Finding out my great-great uncle literally ran away with the circus
Finding out that same great-great uncle homesteaded in Wyoming after the circus abandoned him following a fall off of the tightrope
Reading a book about my favorite bookstore on the planet (Curious? Email me and I will send you the title!)
Sunshine (It's been a LONG and wet winter/spring!)
Listening to Brian Stokes Mitchell sing "Some Enchanted Evening"
Dipping fresh french bread in cool, tangy pesto
Dave shaving his winter beard into a 70s 'stache worthy of Starsky and Hutch
A ridiculously fun field trip to Chuck E. Cheese's with Ellie's preschool
Finding the perfect top to go with a denim skirt that has been relegated to the depths of my closet for far too long
Being in possession of "favorite books" lists from independent bookstores from across the country
Being in possession of "favorite books" lists for every conceivable genre from my favorite bookstore on the planet
Realizing I have a LOT of books to read before I can consider myself well-read in any way, shape, or form
The butterflies in my stomach I feel when I settle on my next literary conquest - a little Salman Rushdie, anyone?
...And so it goes. Yes, life has been a wicked pitcher lately, throwing the aforementioned curve balls with some serious heat. Thank goodness it also offers the finer things in life to provide a little balance. Isn't life funny?
Wildly dancing about the kitchen to the Tarzan soundtrack with my very own Twila Tharp and Martha Graham
The ambient sounds of lawnmowers around the neighborhood accompanied by the exquisite smell of freshly cut grass
Trying to dance about in the car to the Tarzan soundtrack while all of the drivers around us stare and laugh (Did I mention the girls are on a Tarzan kick?)
Beating another car to the merge on Victory Road while driving to my Grandma's house for our weekly visit
Finding out my great-great uncle literally ran away with the circus
Finding out that same great-great uncle homesteaded in Wyoming after the circus abandoned him following a fall off of the tightrope
Reading a book about my favorite bookstore on the planet (Curious? Email me and I will send you the title!)
Sunshine (It's been a LONG and wet winter/spring!)
Listening to Brian Stokes Mitchell sing "Some Enchanted Evening"
Dipping fresh french bread in cool, tangy pesto
Dave shaving his winter beard into a 70s 'stache worthy of Starsky and Hutch
A ridiculously fun field trip to Chuck E. Cheese's with Ellie's preschool
Finding the perfect top to go with a denim skirt that has been relegated to the depths of my closet for far too long
Being in possession of "favorite books" lists from independent bookstores from across the country
Being in possession of "favorite books" lists for every conceivable genre from my favorite bookstore on the planet
Realizing I have a LOT of books to read before I can consider myself well-read in any way, shape, or form
The butterflies in my stomach I feel when I settle on my next literary conquest - a little Salman Rushdie, anyone?
...And so it goes. Yes, life has been a wicked pitcher lately, throwing the aforementioned curve balls with some serious heat. Thank goodness it also offers the finer things in life to provide a little balance. Isn't life funny?
Thursday, April 2, 2009
So Long Old Friend.....
I usually don't watch much television. (This is primarily because nothing I enjoy stays on the air for very long, but we've been there and done that. Let's move on, shall we?) It seems lately, however, this strange square box that emanates all sorts of weird light has been on the forefront of my mind. Or at least at the forefront of my interaction with the outside world. (It's amazing how limited one's existence becomes with sick kiddos in tow!)
Tonight I felt compelled to watch the series finale of ER. I have not seen so much as an episode since that fateful night back in 1998 when George Clooney literally walked off into the sunset. I have no idea who the new characters are or anything about their stories. Nevertheless, I had to watch. If only to pay tribute to one of the happiest memories I have of my adult life.
ER premiered during my sophomore year in college. (Yes, I was a college sophomore fifteen years ago. Again, let's move on, shall we?) After a tumultuous freshman year (to say the least!), I found myself living in a lovely apartment, in the heart of a lovely campus, with five of the loveliest women one could ever hope to meet. We truly enjoyed each other's company. And every Thursday night, we had a sacred ritual. Must see TV. With religious regularity, we would put down our week's work for two hours to watch Seinfeld, Friends, and ER. It was our time. It was not to be missed. And it was not to be infiltrated by outsiders - no matter who anyone might be dating at the time.
And so as I sat here tonight, weeping as characters of old made their obligatory appearances on the screen, I thought of them - Kim, Kristen, Stephanie, Amanda, and Sam. I have lost track of them over the years, but just for tonight the memory of all of us on the imitation foam couch in Merrill Hall was alive and well. And for a blissful moment, I was back there with them. Of all my undergrad memories, I believe this is the one I cherish most. It was such a simple little ritual, but it was a thoroughly enjoyable one. So thank you, my girls from 428. It was divine while it lasted. And tonight was for you........and the new world monkeys.
Tonight I felt compelled to watch the series finale of ER. I have not seen so much as an episode since that fateful night back in 1998 when George Clooney literally walked off into the sunset. I have no idea who the new characters are or anything about their stories. Nevertheless, I had to watch. If only to pay tribute to one of the happiest memories I have of my adult life.
ER premiered during my sophomore year in college. (Yes, I was a college sophomore fifteen years ago. Again, let's move on, shall we?) After a tumultuous freshman year (to say the least!), I found myself living in a lovely apartment, in the heart of a lovely campus, with five of the loveliest women one could ever hope to meet. We truly enjoyed each other's company. And every Thursday night, we had a sacred ritual. Must see TV. With religious regularity, we would put down our week's work for two hours to watch Seinfeld, Friends, and ER. It was our time. It was not to be missed. And it was not to be infiltrated by outsiders - no matter who anyone might be dating at the time.
And so as I sat here tonight, weeping as characters of old made their obligatory appearances on the screen, I thought of them - Kim, Kristen, Stephanie, Amanda, and Sam. I have lost track of them over the years, but just for tonight the memory of all of us on the imitation foam couch in Merrill Hall was alive and well. And for a blissful moment, I was back there with them. Of all my undergrad memories, I believe this is the one I cherish most. It was such a simple little ritual, but it was a thoroughly enjoyable one. So thank you, my girls from 428. It was divine while it lasted. And tonight was for you........and the new world monkeys.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Viewer Discretion Advised
It's happened again. It seems to be a ritual with me. I have fallen for a television show. Hard. So buckle up, it's going to be a bumpy ride.
I have a love/hate relationship with television. Once I discover a show I love, the networks seem to show it nothing but hate, and I wind up depressed and without a shred of hope that anything witty, smart, or simply entertaining will ever appear on my TV screen again. My family often muses that I am a pox upon any series - once I love it, it's cancelled. Period. Eli Stone anyone? Sports Night? (I'm still not over that one! Forever will I mourn the loss of Dan and Casey.) Need I say more?
It seems this uncomfortable phenomenon works retroactively as well. After viewing (and viewing and viewing.....) the film Serenity, I recently became obsessed with it and its television predecessor Firefly. The story! The wit! The snark! Nathan Fillion! It was perfect. It was ingenious. And it was cancelled after eleven episodes aired - sporadically and out of order, I might add.
We interrupt this blog entry to bring you a momentary rant....
Seriously - Fox couldn't make a go out of something that was so good it seems a crime to call it a television series?!?!?! Really?!?!?! Another inane reality show knocking on the door with the promise of appealing to the lowest common cultural denomonator? Heaven forbid we should miss out on someone marrying a stranger for money, or yet another night of American Idol!
We now return you to our regularly scheduled musings.....
Even knowing the fate of a series beforehand, I could not help but become enamored. It appears as though I am a browncoat to the core. Who knew! Incidentally, if you haven't seen Serenity or Firefly, you must do so. Now. Type in the address of your favorite purveyor of DVDs into your browser immediately and buy them. I'll wait.......
And so, once more into the breach I go. Falling in love with a series that has no chance of survival now that I am firmly ensconced in its fan base. What series could entice me into the inevitable emotional freefall, you might ask? It's a little show called Castle. And like the others that have gone before, it is witty, smart, and more fun than one has any right to expect from a television series any more. Oh yes, and did I mention it stars the incomporable (and adorable) Nathan Fillion, our beloved Captain Mal Reynolds from the aforementioned and utterly beloved Firefly/Serenity?
So strap in boys and girls and enjoy it while you can. With me on board, the ride is sure to end in unceremonious cancellation. But what a ride it will be!
I have a love/hate relationship with television. Once I discover a show I love, the networks seem to show it nothing but hate, and I wind up depressed and without a shred of hope that anything witty, smart, or simply entertaining will ever appear on my TV screen again. My family often muses that I am a pox upon any series - once I love it, it's cancelled. Period. Eli Stone anyone? Sports Night? (I'm still not over that one! Forever will I mourn the loss of Dan and Casey.) Need I say more?
It seems this uncomfortable phenomenon works retroactively as well. After viewing (and viewing and viewing.....) the film Serenity, I recently became obsessed with it and its television predecessor Firefly. The story! The wit! The snark! Nathan Fillion! It was perfect. It was ingenious. And it was cancelled after eleven episodes aired - sporadically and out of order, I might add.
We interrupt this blog entry to bring you a momentary rant....
Seriously - Fox couldn't make a go out of something that was so good it seems a crime to call it a television series?!?!?! Really?!?!?! Another inane reality show knocking on the door with the promise of appealing to the lowest common cultural denomonator? Heaven forbid we should miss out on someone marrying a stranger for money, or yet another night of American Idol!
We now return you to our regularly scheduled musings.....
Even knowing the fate of a series beforehand, I could not help but become enamored. It appears as though I am a browncoat to the core. Who knew! Incidentally, if you haven't seen Serenity or Firefly, you must do so. Now. Type in the address of your favorite purveyor of DVDs into your browser immediately and buy them. I'll wait.......
And so, once more into the breach I go. Falling in love with a series that has no chance of survival now that I am firmly ensconced in its fan base. What series could entice me into the inevitable emotional freefall, you might ask? It's a little show called Castle. And like the others that have gone before, it is witty, smart, and more fun than one has any right to expect from a television series any more. Oh yes, and did I mention it stars the incomporable (and adorable) Nathan Fillion, our beloved Captain Mal Reynolds from the aforementioned and utterly beloved Firefly/Serenity?
So strap in boys and girls and enjoy it while you can. With me on board, the ride is sure to end in unceremonious cancellation. But what a ride it will be!
Friday, March 27, 2009
Music and Lyrics
Wouldn't it be lovely if life had a soundtrack? Think about it for a moment. Every memorable or powerful scene from any film you have ever seen has some sort of musical accompaniment to go along with it. Why can't life be like that too? I suspect even the more absurd moments of life would be rendered hilarious rather than potentially frustrating with an appropriate tune behind it.
Case in point - imagine standing on your back porch on a cold and windy spring day, clothed only in your bathrobe and dripping wet from having just jettisoned yourself from the shower in order to let the dog out to do what dogs do. While you stand there shivering, you are imploring said dog to do her business so you might return to the warmth of the house to regain what remains of your dignity. This experience along might not be enjoyable per se. But imagine going through it with the strains of the "Overture" from the Marriage of Figaro swirling about your convulsing self. It makes the entire experience seem almost funny. And what about the race to get two girls fed, dressed, and otherwise ready in time for preschool drop off with its inevitable lost shoes, spilled juice, and ill-timed bathroom breaks? The William Tell Overture or Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries would send the entire experience from just plain loony, to the ranks of Looney Tunes.
While we are at it, why don't we request sound effects as well? (I'm not certain to whom this request might be made, but I am making it nevertheless!) Even the most frustrating or embarrassing pratfalls and mishaps that invariably fill your day would lose their edge with a "wah-wah" or a "ba-dum-bum" going on behind the scenes. Again, think about the classic cartoons. The animators behind them could make corporal punishment seem funny with the right audio mix. I am simply suggesting that we add that audio mix to life.
Life is absurd. There is no getting around that. Even the most ordered and controlled environment cannot insulate one from the inherent chaos of it all. The beautiful thing about life, however, is that it is crazy, wacky, and, as a result, undeniably funny. Perhaps if we all had the appropriate soundtrack accompaniment, it would be easier for us all to enjoy the inescapable hilarity of our existence.
"BA-DUM-CHING!!!!"
Case in point - imagine standing on your back porch on a cold and windy spring day, clothed only in your bathrobe and dripping wet from having just jettisoned yourself from the shower in order to let the dog out to do what dogs do. While you stand there shivering, you are imploring said dog to do her business so you might return to the warmth of the house to regain what remains of your dignity. This experience along might not be enjoyable per se. But imagine going through it with the strains of the "Overture" from the Marriage of Figaro swirling about your convulsing self. It makes the entire experience seem almost funny. And what about the race to get two girls fed, dressed, and otherwise ready in time for preschool drop off with its inevitable lost shoes, spilled juice, and ill-timed bathroom breaks? The William Tell Overture or Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries would send the entire experience from just plain loony, to the ranks of Looney Tunes.
While we are at it, why don't we request sound effects as well? (I'm not certain to whom this request might be made, but I am making it nevertheless!) Even the most frustrating or embarrassing pratfalls and mishaps that invariably fill your day would lose their edge with a "wah-wah" or a "ba-dum-bum" going on behind the scenes. Again, think about the classic cartoons. The animators behind them could make corporal punishment seem funny with the right audio mix. I am simply suggesting that we add that audio mix to life.
Life is absurd. There is no getting around that. Even the most ordered and controlled environment cannot insulate one from the inherent chaos of it all. The beautiful thing about life, however, is that it is crazy, wacky, and, as a result, undeniably funny. Perhaps if we all had the appropriate soundtrack accompaniment, it would be easier for us all to enjoy the inescapable hilarity of our existence.
"BA-DUM-CHING!!!!"
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Ladies and Gentlemen.....
I am a schmuck. I have heard it said that admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery. So I thought I would take this opportunity to do so. I am a schmuck. Please allow me to explain. I feel sorry for myself. Often. Way too often if we are to be honest. I struggle almost daily to maintain some semblance of a positive attitude as I attempt to live in and manage my life. Dave works full time and is pursuing his PhD in Chemical Engineering. I am a full time mom and trying to finish my PhD in History. Our girls are active, bright, and demand (and deserve!) a great deal of attention. Our church responsibilities often require a great deal of time and effort, sometimes taking away evenings we would otherwise spend on our family and/or our research. And then there's the dog. Did I mention we got a dog? Every day seems a gauntlet of things to do and not enough time in which to do them. And there are days when the pressure gets to me. A lot. I am embarrassed to admit that I strain under the weight of it all, sometimes to the point where I find myself sitting on the floor crying wishing I were stronger, smarter, or simply more capable of succeeding in the life I have been given.
I have been in one of those ruts lately as I have wrestled with my latest chapter while trying to maintain some semblance of balance with everything else. Needless to say it has been difficult to see the proverbial forest through the trees. But every once in a while I make the effort to climb above the timberline and look around me. Last night was one of those occasions. And that's when it hit me. I am a schmuck.
There are people - some who I know and love, some who I've never met but in whom I have become invested through the blogosphere - who are truly struggling. The difference between these resplendent people and myself? They They do it all with nary a complaint. The beautiful and talented Nie Nie was in a near fatal plane accident and now spends her days coping with the surgeries, therapies, and other traumatic challenges that go along with having severe burns over the majority of her body. Yet she soldiers on with amazing grace. My lovely uncle Bill is dying. He was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor not long after he married my Aunt Nancy and his health has been a slow descent my entire life. And yet he has always been the sweetest, kindest, and often funniest person I have known. His remarkable family is taking such great care of him in his final days and has faced the realities of his life with enviable courage and perspective. Every where I turn it seems I find more stories like these - of friends and family staring down the financial crises surrounding all of us while maintaining their faith and humor or facing familial crises with hope and optimism. I firmly believe that God gives the greatest challenges to the strongest souls. Just one look around me proves this to be true.
And so I arrived at the realization that the challenges in my life - you know, those under whose weight I regularly crumple - are not truly challenges at all. They really are opportunities that require an inordinate amount of effort and perspective. So what if Dave loses his job in the forthcoming layoffs announced by his company? He has a position waiting for him with his graduate advisor. He would have the luxury of taking a full load, and would have more academic options open to him when he's finished. Yes it would mean a huge cut in pay. But we would keep our house. That fact alone means we will be so much better off than so many. So what if my thesis has been held up again? This time it's the result of a potentially game-changing realization. Some things are more important that a deadline. And in the end, I will have a PhD. Neat. So what if I find it difficult to balance mom and grad student on a daily basis? I have kids - something for which many people ache desperately yet are never able to have. And not just any kids. The most amazing, talented, charming and otherwise adorable girls who have ever walked the face of the earth. I can deal with any amount of stress as long as I get them in the bargain. When all is said and done, being Ellie's buddy and Ginny's prince charming equates to a happy life. Period. As for my husband? With marriages falling apart all around us, I am profoundly grateful that Dave is my best friend. He is my refuge, my comic relief, and my sounding board. And he is a phenomenal dad. So what if our life feels like a pressure cooker sometimes? We are a team. That alone makes everything else okay.
And so I reiterate. I am a schmuck. But I hope that my willingness to admit to that fact will help me to appreciate everything I have and not let petty discouragements get me down. In the meantime, please allow me to send a virtual but sincere thank you to all of you who remind me of the kind of person I want to be - who exhibit kindness, hope, grace, compassion, consideration, generosity, and optimism. These have never been my strongest traits. I intend to make them stronger. And maybe, just maybe, one day I will be a little less of a schmuck and a little more like you.
I have been in one of those ruts lately as I have wrestled with my latest chapter while trying to maintain some semblance of balance with everything else. Needless to say it has been difficult to see the proverbial forest through the trees. But every once in a while I make the effort to climb above the timberline and look around me. Last night was one of those occasions. And that's when it hit me. I am a schmuck.
There are people - some who I know and love, some who I've never met but in whom I have become invested through the blogosphere - who are truly struggling. The difference between these resplendent people and myself? They They do it all with nary a complaint. The beautiful and talented Nie Nie was in a near fatal plane accident and now spends her days coping with the surgeries, therapies, and other traumatic challenges that go along with having severe burns over the majority of her body. Yet she soldiers on with amazing grace. My lovely uncle Bill is dying. He was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor not long after he married my Aunt Nancy and his health has been a slow descent my entire life. And yet he has always been the sweetest, kindest, and often funniest person I have known. His remarkable family is taking such great care of him in his final days and has faced the realities of his life with enviable courage and perspective. Every where I turn it seems I find more stories like these - of friends and family staring down the financial crises surrounding all of us while maintaining their faith and humor or facing familial crises with hope and optimism. I firmly believe that God gives the greatest challenges to the strongest souls. Just one look around me proves this to be true.
And so I arrived at the realization that the challenges in my life - you know, those under whose weight I regularly crumple - are not truly challenges at all. They really are opportunities that require an inordinate amount of effort and perspective. So what if Dave loses his job in the forthcoming layoffs announced by his company? He has a position waiting for him with his graduate advisor. He would have the luxury of taking a full load, and would have more academic options open to him when he's finished. Yes it would mean a huge cut in pay. But we would keep our house. That fact alone means we will be so much better off than so many. So what if my thesis has been held up again? This time it's the result of a potentially game-changing realization. Some things are more important that a deadline. And in the end, I will have a PhD. Neat. So what if I find it difficult to balance mom and grad student on a daily basis? I have kids - something for which many people ache desperately yet are never able to have. And not just any kids. The most amazing, talented, charming and otherwise adorable girls who have ever walked the face of the earth. I can deal with any amount of stress as long as I get them in the bargain. When all is said and done, being Ellie's buddy and Ginny's prince charming equates to a happy life. Period. As for my husband? With marriages falling apart all around us, I am profoundly grateful that Dave is my best friend. He is my refuge, my comic relief, and my sounding board. And he is a phenomenal dad. So what if our life feels like a pressure cooker sometimes? We are a team. That alone makes everything else okay.
And so I reiterate. I am a schmuck. But I hope that my willingness to admit to that fact will help me to appreciate everything I have and not let petty discouragements get me down. In the meantime, please allow me to send a virtual but sincere thank you to all of you who remind me of the kind of person I want to be - who exhibit kindness, hope, grace, compassion, consideration, generosity, and optimism. These have never been my strongest traits. I intend to make them stronger. And maybe, just maybe, one day I will be a little less of a schmuck and a little more like you.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
A Word From the Void....
Yes, I am living in a thesis-induced stupor right now. Thank you very much for asking. I should be writing. Really. It is time. I went through all of my documents twice over and had a game plan. I even wrote it down. On paper. In outline form and everything. I was ready. But a funny thing happened on the way to my deadline. I made a discovery. Something cool. I even think it will make my project better. At the very least it will make the finished product a little more interesting. So herein lies the trouble. This thing that will improve my project is something that I had not noticed before. In any of my readings of my documents. At all. And so, once more into the breech I go. Hundreds of pages of barely legible documents captured in photograph upon photograph of marginal quality (I was pregnant and on the other side of the Atlantic for crying out loud!) have wriggled their way back into my life. And while I am excited about what this all might mean for the ultimate result, in the short term this means I will not have my chapter finished by my goal, the most hallowed of all hallowed days, Selection Sunday. I will not have the luxury of indiscriminately watching game after game for days on end. In short, basketball gluttony will have to wait until next year. Ah well. There's always the Masters.....
P.S. On a completely random and otherwise unrelated note, I am willing to offer a significant reward (payable in M&Ms) to anyone who can explain to me why "Blame it on the Bossanova" is going through my head incessantly and how I can get it to stop.
P.S. On a completely random and otherwise unrelated note, I am willing to offer a significant reward (payable in M&Ms) to anyone who can explain to me why "Blame it on the Bossanova" is going through my head incessantly and how I can get it to stop.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Joy to the World!
Oh how lovely were the holidays! We had Dave home for the entire week between Christmas and New Year's Day, the girls thoroughly enjoyed their descent into the cornucopia of greed (as Ralphie so eloquently put it), Gramma and Poppy spent a few days with us, and we had a perfectly fabulous time making very merry. So as the dust settles, I cannot seem to extricate myself from one particular facet of the joyous season just past - the Utes' unbelievable, indescribable, and downright poetic victory in the Sugar Bowl last Friday. It was a thing of beauty. A transcendent moment. And it was a long time coming.
Now, as most of you know, I am a proud Alum of Utah State and bleed Aggie blue through and through. But I was not raised an Aggie. Growing up, I was only vaguely aware that a university existed in the northern climbs of Utah. USU only came into my field of vision when I announced that I wanted to go away to school rather than commute to the nearby "U" and live at home. My father's reaction I will never forget. He simply said the following. "That's great. But you are going north NOT south." You see, in my family we live, eat, and breathe the "U". We have endured cold November afternoons huddled together on frozen benches in the old Rice Stadium (during the bleak 1980s) watching the Utes take yet another pounding from their rival which shall not be named but which we shall refer to as "tds". We have fought back bitter tears as the Utes squandered a half-time lead to fall yet again to the University of Kentucky in the NCAA basketball championship game. (My poor dad has yet to recover from that one. Although it must be said that the run in the tournament up to that point was the kind of dream that only becomes reality in fairy tales!) It's safe to say that as the "U" goes, so go the emotional and psychological well being of our family. (In a mildly ironic sidenote, Dave will be the only one in my family to follow in my parents' footsteps and earn a degree from the "U"....at least in our generation. Ellie seems pretty excited to be a "go Ute!", however. We will keep you posted!)
So as we sat watching the Sugar Bowl - a fitting if daunting reward for an incredible football season - we tried to fight back our hopes for the kind of outcome that would make this season the stuff of legend. My brother Matty braved the gauntlet of the bowl game armed with beer and lil smokies. My father no doubt was pacing the entirety of his home (as has been his usual practice for as long as I can remember.) As for me, I engaged in some nervous cleaning for most of the first half, sprinting downstairs to the family room every time hoots and cheers wafted up the stairwell. By the end of the evening, our family stood united in euphoric shock. The Utes had done what most thought impossible. They had taken the advice of the inimitable Eleanor Roosevelt when she insisted that "you must do the thing you think you cannot do." The Utes had beaten the dog out of the Tide, disproved all of the pundits, took the legs out from under the BCS, and emerged as the ONLY undefeated team in Division I football. (I shall not ascribe to the FBS nonsense.)
Ever since Friday night, I cannot seem to tear myself away from the major sports media outlets. ESPN, SI, Fox Sports - I am glued to them all. The talk around the nation surrounding our beloved Utes is remarkable, and has been a long time coming. While one game remains to be played this season (some nonsense about a BCS championship), the Utes, our Utes, MY DAD'S UTES, have become the focus of a national debate over who is most deserving of the title national champion. And more phenomenal than that - the "U" seems to be coming out on top. Yes, our little team that could has become the center of a rallying cry for greater parity in college football; for a just system that rewards talent and hard work, rather than the name on the jersey; for a championship that is indeed a championship, and not yet another political debacle.
Regardless of what the final polls say on Friday, this past week has been one to remember. My dad and I have spent an inordinate amount of time trading phone calls and emails, relishing the support for the cause of the "U" that is growing across the country. No matter where they finish, our Utes are seen by many throughout the country as the team most deserving of a national title. For a family who has weathered the good, the bad, and (particularly during the aforementioned 1980s) the ugly in University of Utah sports, our time has finally come. Our team has finally arrived. My dad finally has his moment to see his Utes stand at the apex of college football. Joy to the whole darn world!
Now, as most of you know, I am a proud Alum of Utah State and bleed Aggie blue through and through. But I was not raised an Aggie. Growing up, I was only vaguely aware that a university existed in the northern climbs of Utah. USU only came into my field of vision when I announced that I wanted to go away to school rather than commute to the nearby "U" and live at home. My father's reaction I will never forget. He simply said the following. "That's great. But you are going north NOT south." You see, in my family we live, eat, and breathe the "U". We have endured cold November afternoons huddled together on frozen benches in the old Rice Stadium (during the bleak 1980s) watching the Utes take yet another pounding from their rival which shall not be named but which we shall refer to as "tds". We have fought back bitter tears as the Utes squandered a half-time lead to fall yet again to the University of Kentucky in the NCAA basketball championship game. (My poor dad has yet to recover from that one. Although it must be said that the run in the tournament up to that point was the kind of dream that only becomes reality in fairy tales!) It's safe to say that as the "U" goes, so go the emotional and psychological well being of our family. (In a mildly ironic sidenote, Dave will be the only one in my family to follow in my parents' footsteps and earn a degree from the "U"....at least in our generation. Ellie seems pretty excited to be a "go Ute!", however. We will keep you posted!)
So as we sat watching the Sugar Bowl - a fitting if daunting reward for an incredible football season - we tried to fight back our hopes for the kind of outcome that would make this season the stuff of legend. My brother Matty braved the gauntlet of the bowl game armed with beer and lil smokies. My father no doubt was pacing the entirety of his home (as has been his usual practice for as long as I can remember.) As for me, I engaged in some nervous cleaning for most of the first half, sprinting downstairs to the family room every time hoots and cheers wafted up the stairwell. By the end of the evening, our family stood united in euphoric shock. The Utes had done what most thought impossible. They had taken the advice of the inimitable Eleanor Roosevelt when she insisted that "you must do the thing you think you cannot do." The Utes had beaten the dog out of the Tide, disproved all of the pundits, took the legs out from under the BCS, and emerged as the ONLY undefeated team in Division I football. (I shall not ascribe to the FBS nonsense.)
Ever since Friday night, I cannot seem to tear myself away from the major sports media outlets. ESPN, SI, Fox Sports - I am glued to them all. The talk around the nation surrounding our beloved Utes is remarkable, and has been a long time coming. While one game remains to be played this season (some nonsense about a BCS championship), the Utes, our Utes, MY DAD'S UTES, have become the focus of a national debate over who is most deserving of the title national champion. And more phenomenal than that - the "U" seems to be coming out on top. Yes, our little team that could has become the center of a rallying cry for greater parity in college football; for a just system that rewards talent and hard work, rather than the name on the jersey; for a championship that is indeed a championship, and not yet another political debacle.
Regardless of what the final polls say on Friday, this past week has been one to remember. My dad and I have spent an inordinate amount of time trading phone calls and emails, relishing the support for the cause of the "U" that is growing across the country. No matter where they finish, our Utes are seen by many throughout the country as the team most deserving of a national title. For a family who has weathered the good, the bad, and (particularly during the aforementioned 1980s) the ugly in University of Utah sports, our time has finally come. Our team has finally arrived. My dad finally has his moment to see his Utes stand at the apex of college football. Joy to the whole darn world!
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