Heather Bloghead

Conference As Usual

2011-10-05T12:25:00.000-07:00

when i log in to my blog, it tells me it wants a new look. i agree. i was just thinking myself that i need a haircut. i suppose my blog feels the similar need to switch things up or thin things out when they're getting out of control.

but before my little blog can get a new look, it needs to be more disciplined in updating itself. ahem. it's not my fault, it's the blog's.

every 6 months my church holds a General Conference where our leaders give counsel and encouragement. if you live in Utah, you know about this even if you're not Mormon, because the bullet points are reported on the news. when i came back to Utah after living away for a few years, i thought this was weird.

i love conference. i love the messages shared, i love the updates on numbers and people. i can't help it, i'm a numbers person. i especially love Temple Square. it gets very dressed up for conference and smiles at everyone.

if i were still an English teacher, i would expect my students to ask me why i keep using so much personification in this post. well, it's just my mood. "Who needs an excuse for literary elements?", i would retort.

i have a couple of friends that love conference at Temple Square as much as i.

(speaking of English teaching, the previous is a good sentence to explain when to use "I" or "me" at the end of a sentence. if i said my friends love TS as much as me, it would mean they love it as much as they love me. when i say they love it as much as I, i mean they love it as much as i love it. excuse the mood, dear readers.)

i have the confidence to say that these friends likely love conference at Temple Square also as much as they love me, so in this case it really doesn't matter how i said it. so there, Miss Bankhead.

i digress.

one of my fellow TS lovers is Camilla. when we were in college, we would drive down to SLC from Logan and sleep on the sidewalk outside Temple Square to make sure we could get a good seat. most teenagers/young adults do this for concerts and parades. we did it to see the Prophet and the flowers. i think we liked that it made us feel like pioneers. now, every conference Cam and i have some sort of communication during it. this time it was a text from her telling me one of songs reminded her of me (not I) because it's my favorite, and to see if i liked President Monson's "Hello." i had to confess that i had been cleaning the bathroom while listening, so i heard the song but missed the facial expression that came with hello. it's all bueno, she assured me. neither of us had slept on the sidewalk the night before, but we still love it.

Christy is another of my conference friends. we committed after we got back from our missions to always meet up for fall conference somehow. we are usually successful at this, even though both of us have lived in states outside of Utah for a large portion of our adult lives. this past weekend we met up Sunday afternoon. Christy picked me up and we drove down to our typical parking place. the open space that day happened to be on a hill. Christy parked and then as a second-thought asked me which direction the wheels are supposed to be turned on a hill. i told her, she already knew and did it, and we got out. as we were walking back down the hill, we heard a loud POP! and turned to see the car start rolling. there was not enough time to panic, we just both started running back to it. because the wheels had been turned toward the curb, the car backed itself right into the driveway next to it, and started heading toward the garage of the house belonging to the driveway. by this time, our purses had both been thrown into the flowers and Christy's very-cute high heels were kicked off, and we fumbled to get the door open. we both realized that cars are heavier than we'd ever imagined. my brain was trying to predict how hard the car would have to hit the garage door to seriously damage it, and was relieved that it was heading for a garage and not a bedroom. blessedly, the driveway was on a slight incline and the car lost its momentum going toward the house. it rolled back down toward the street a moment, and then stopped. it was perfect, just as if it were stopping by to pick us up. we grabbed shoes and purses and hopped back in, found a flat spot, and made it to Temple Square.

the adventure of conference never ends.

(the English teacher is back: please name the onomatopoeia in the narrative above. 10 points.)

The Curious Incident of the Dead Bird in the Bathtub

2011-08-04T23:47:00.000-07:00

The other day I found a dead bird in my bathtub. Here's what happened:

Monday my friend and I took an accidental hike up a little road in the mountains that we imagined led to a really cool house. It was accidental not because we broke down, but because we couldn't find our FHE group who must have been on a different mountain.

In the middle of the road, the friend noticed an ant-covered bird--a bird with a broken wing that had minyons of ants crawling all over it. The bird was still alive and involved in a horrific scene. We quickly decided to defy nature and save the bird. It's bad karma to let stuff die from ant suffocation. As we grabbed for it, it flapped and squawked to get away, drawing the attention of the dog that was with us. The dog was faster than we were and snatched that poor bird right up. We hesitated a moment, hoping the dog would hurry and put the bird out of its misery, but it turned out the dog just wanted to swing it around a bit. We eventually saved it again, wiped the ants off it and ourselves (but let the dog fend for herself), and took it home.

I put it in a little drawer, complete with a magazine-shredded bed, some bread and water, and a little washrag blanket and then covered the drawer with a towel. Bird tucked its little head into its shoulder and fell peacefully asleep. Relief. The next morning, I awoke to a little chirper a few feet from my bed, which I thought was cute.

The two most important things you can do for a bird with a broken wing are save it from being someone's dinner, and keep it in a place where it won't further injure itself. So I left it in the drawer and put the drawer in the bathtub as double protection. I opened the shower window nice and wide so Bird would have some fresh air and made sure some of her magazine bed could double as reading material in case she got bored in the drawer. I left for work expecting to return to a refreshed, grateful, and current-event-apprised bird (she had Time magazine, after all).

Later that night, I ran up the stairs in the dark with my newly-purchased meal worms, hoping hoping hoping the bird was still alive.

A person ignorant of what a bathroom serving three girls is like would likely think they walked into a corner store in a small country when they stepped into the girls' bathtub. In it are all varieties of shampoos, conditioners, and other things that I don't even really understand. Our unmentionables sit on the window sill. The sill of that same window that I had left wide open.

When I went in to deliver dinner, much to my horror, I found the following things lying spread-eagle in the bathtub: one ginormous bottle of super-smoothing shampoo, pomegranite dream body wash, frizz + death defying conditioner, and a dead bird.

I was sad she was gone, relieved I didn't have to open up the meal worms. I wondered how long I had to dispose of the body, but when someone said the word "carcass", I pulled out my head lamp and camping shovel and buried the bird under the bushes.

How Bird passed will forever be a mystery. It could have been old age. It could have been sustained injury. Maybe despair. It may have been death by the bottle. It could have been a heart attack caused when wind threw everything down. We will never know.

The moral of the story is this: sometimes when you're focused on little things, you forget to look at the big picture.

Determined?

2011-07-21T17:20:00.000-07:00

I'm right now reading The Chosen for the second time. It sits on the bookshelf in my living room. Sunday morning it winked at me so I picked it up with the intent to skim a few pages while waiting for church. I got hooked pretty quick and ended up taking it with me to church and had to fight not to read it during the lulls. I am now giving it the good, thorough second-read excellent books deserve.

You might think I am talking about a guy, but I swear it's just a book.

The story is about two Jewish boys and their friendship (to put it lightly). Last night I read a portion about a period of time when one of the boys, Danny, really needed to talk about some weighty things on his mind with the other, Reuven, but Reuven was too busy with school and illness and student government to take time to have more than a fleeting conversation with him. Because I've read the book already, I can anticipate the later-described struggle that Danny was going through at that time, and know how speaking with Reuven could have relieved some of his burden. This morning I was thinking about it again, and feeling very annoyed with Reuven for not taking the time out of his schedule to give his best friend the conversation he needed. I was feeling frustrated and sad about the situation and its consequences. Maybe you could say I was brooding. Eventually it occurred to me that the story is already written and no amount of feeling I have about the situation is going to change the outcome that I know is coming (I'm aware that another reason I shouldn't stress over this while driving to work on an early morning when I have lots of other things to stew upon is that it's a fictional story. I can't help it--I get into stuff).

So then I wondered if this is true about non-fiction life. I wonder if consequences/outcomes/endings already exist, and therefore worrying about them or thinking about them or planning them is pointless.

Over the past bit of time I've been settling upon an understanding of the importance (and freedom) of releasing expectations of others. This means letting people be who they are and where they are when they are. I've found that when I let people be themselves and accept them for who they are I'm able to love them better. To be clear, I feel that accepting a person for who he/she is can be concurrent to believing in their greatest potential.

I'm getting off the subject. I guess I wonder whether I actually influence outcomes in my life, or if I am just a vehicle for fate.

Ragnar Relay

2011-04-21T11:20:00.000-07:00

i'm writing about my recent Ragnar Relay experience soon. it's a long story so it's taking me a while. in the meantime, here are some pictures.

don't read this if you get grossed out easily or are afraid of flames

2011-03-16T09:42:00.000-07:00

lately i have been training to run a Ragnar Relay. over the past 2-ish years, i've given running some half-sassed attention, but the past 2 months have been serious business.

here's what'll be happening: Ragnar So Cal

i'm following this: Training Schedule

i've typically been pretty much a sissy with running, but with steady training, i'm amazed at how far i've come. with such effort, however, come some basic maladies. i really couldn't care less about sore muscles or cramps or shakey legs; the problem is the toenail issue.

i've started to develop blisters underneath most of my toenails, causing a bit of...alarm. not to mention a lot of pain. my roommates can attest to this because i tend to talk about it a lot. actually, i just recently figured out they were blisters, which is sort of a relief because i was starting to get worried that my toes were just warping. i'm a girl, ok? we don't like stuff that's not pretty.

i found out about the blisters when one popped. it was unexpected, and as i noticed a mass of bloody, gooey, serum flowing out of my toe i almost passed out. luckily my cousin, the aspiring MD, swooped in and took control of the situation. after the gore was gone, everything felt much better.

another blister has started to outgrow its shell and i noticed this morning is causing an infection. i was just trying to suck it up until this morning, at work, when i noticed i could barely walk down the hall. it was time to get the inevitable popping over with.

i asked the front desk if they happened to have a needle and a match. they referred me to the janitor. i asked him and he answered with a mischievous smile, "Yes, I have something." when you read that sentence in your mind, please attach a Hungarian accent to it, as the janitor is not only well-equipped, but also Hungarian.

5 minutes later, he came in with this:

i'm not sure what's worse: my throbbing, incapacitating toe, the blow torch, or the biggest freaking safety pin i've ever seen.

it did the job. amazing.
this running thing is obviously not the business of sissies.

Gag

2011-03-08T08:54:00.001-08:00

i loathe worms.

i was properly and thoroughly traumatized by them in about second grade, when my teacher read us How to Eat Fried Worms. i am still sicked-out by this book as an adult. one of my middle school students in Philly once had it and i warned him it was super-sick and that he couldn't read it in front of me (i'm not that ridiculous, it was just a ploy to get him to actually read it. Manipulative Reverse Psychology--a great thing to use on developing brains.)

i'm happy about Springtime, but can't walk down a sidewalk without gagging. why, why, why do the worms have to hog all walkways?

about ten minutes ago i unsuspectingly ran outside to get the mail for my school. i was halfway down the sidewalk with no escape in any direction when i noticed i was surrounded by plastered worms. i tried my best to plug my nose and ignore my plight, finish the mailbox business and run back in.

it was bad.

then i was sitting in my office and the receptionist came in to hand me stuff. she asked why i was looking so weird, and i said i was afraid to put my feet down on the floor because i didn't want worm guts to get on my carpet. she looked at me like she looks at her children and told me to show her the bottom of my shoes.

see, when i freak out about stuff, people like to try and minimalize it, acting like i'm exaggerating or something. i know she was planning on looking at my shoes and appeasing me by telling me i was worrying over nothing.

i lifted up my feet, and she says, with concern, "OK, you have some worms on there."

i only knew the shriek i let out was inappropriate because i simultaneously saw the principal cock her head down the hall. i leaped out from behind the desk in as few carpet-worm-shoe contact points as possible as the receptionist suggested--"Go wash your feet in the snow."

i did my best to scrub. it's so gross. i only stopped when she came out to get me saying, "Can you please come back in here? Someone wants to sell us a copy machine."

elchchchccchhkckck.

Anjelica Huston Has Weird Hair

2011-03-01T06:43:00.000-08:00

my poor parents. they've been waiting so long for me to give them a grandchild. since they are kind and sensitive in general, they were patient and unassuming for the first 13 of my childlessbearing years. but that didn't work and they are taking a different approach these days.

a phone conversation at Christmastime, while in a car with my pervy friend Steve:

me, unsuspecting: "Hi, Dad."
Dad: "Heather, I need a grandson."
me: "I know, Dad. I'll work on that."
Dad: "Soon. Just get it done."
me (foolishly): "I'm with Steve right now. I'll see what he can do."
Steve gets the jist of the conversation and recognizes a window of opportunity.
He attempts to get in the driver seat with me.
me: "Steve, get off. Dad, because of you Steve is trying to jump me."
Dad: "Lay back, relax, and open up."
me: "I'm hanging up now."

then, yesterday, from my mother via text:

Mom: "G'mornin. I decided what we can name your daughter. Angelica."

it was waaaay too early in the morning for such talk and i was unamused. the only response mustered was, "?"

Mom: "Yeah. I watched a movie last night with Anjelica Huston and like the name. We can nickname her Little Angel."
me: "Mom please name your own kid that."

let's review the problems here.
1. "WE"??
2. my daughter? that's called counting your chickens before they're concieved.
3. ANGELICA? any name consisting of four or more syllables is old before it gets out of your mouth.
4. she wants to name her progeny after a vampire? let's face it, at the rate i'm going she's likely not going to get very many granddaughters in the first place. you'd think she'd not want to waste names.

the conversation went on.

Mom: "What should we name your first son?" (again, "WE"?)
Me, giving in: "I have no idea. What do you suggest?"
Mom: "How about Lane, Layne---like Lanet (her name)? As in Heather Lanet? Huh yeah!"
i'm giving her the benefit of the doubt and assuming she was simply in a weird punk mood.
i told her the closest i'd get to either of those is "Lint."
she vetoed and the discussion is over.

if you ever need to end a crazy conversation with your mother, you just act more crazy and she will stop talking so as to not encourage you.

Differences of Opinion

2011-02-01T10:32:00.000-08:00

When you tell people that you're going on a 7-day, 7-night cruise with someone you barely know, responses will vary:

Me: "I'm going on a cruise with a man that I sort-of know."

Friend A: "Of course you are."

Friend B: "You didn't meet this guy online, did you?"

Grandmother-figure: "Please bring me back a magnet."

Mom: "Do you think you're going to fool around?" followed by my first real Birds and the Bees Talk.

Co-worker: "I'll get you the best-ever waterproof mascara."

Boss: "Are you going to end up moving somewhere? Because I just got you trained."

Friend D: "What if you get chopped up and thrown overboard? Haven't you seen Dexter?"

Guy friend: "Sweeeeeeeet."

Friend E: "Am I supposed to talk you into your senses or be supportive right now?"

Boss #2: "Exactly how funny is this guy?"

Friend D: "There are a lot of places you can go on a cruise ship to get away from someone."

Co-worker #2: Glare.

Aunt: "I have a velvety, sparkly dress for you to wear in case you have dinner with the captain."

Cousin: "What did your mother say?"

Cousin's husband: "hee hee hee..."

Parents: "Please get pregnant."

It's against my religion to get pregnant on a cruise ship, so no worries there.

I am back and unchopped; maybe a little bit sparkley, as the sun will do that to you.

the cafe´

2011-01-25T14:44:00.000-08:00

i´m sitting in a little internet cafe´ using a keyboard i don´t understand to write this. just to give an idea of what it´s like, i´m not correcting any typos from now on.

i´m in mexico, and definitely the keyboard is not the only thing i don´t understand. despite that, i am very surprised by the high amount of English-friendly signs, menus, etc. around. we just ate at a great little restaurant <(whose plants that were hanging from the ceiling were real, not fake like we are used to.) it sort of bugs me when English overtakes a country´s language, even if just for a few streets. oh my heck. in my attempt to not correct the typos, i just deleted half of this post. lame. buttons that erase that are so close to my pinky fingers are scary. i typed most of my blog posts in brazil from various internet cafes. i was better at it then because i´d had more practice. these are some of the characters i miss<<<<<<<<<<<<< i can´t find the shift key, otherwise that would have been a colon. ªº?¿ñÑçÇ okay, i have to get out of here. more stories later.

this computer just told me to ¨´ESPERE´´. my favorite Spanish and Portuguese word. please ignore my punctuation.

When It's Light

2011-01-13T10:01:00.000-08:00

dating details and experiences rarely if ever show up on my blog. i've realized lately it's a shame. my and my friends' dating lives are a breeding ground (not really) of amusement.

a story about ________ (blank pseudonym to protect the awkward).

_______ is my good friend. she is normally of classy, feminine behavior, which is why the following story is so odd, yet funny.

______ had just begun dating a particular guy, and was in the midst of the deliriousness of a great new relationship. she calls me one day, contempletive.

_____: "Heth, i'm in the middle of a funny text conversation with (New Guy). he sent me one telling me he's sick, and asking if i was, too. i responded 'why would I be sick?' (insert _____'s throaty giggle). he said he assumes i didn't get that hot a grade in biology."

me: "ha."

_____: "so then i said, 'i have explosive diahrrea and rashes.'"

me (alarmed): "did you already send that?"

_____: "yes! but i'm not really sick, i'm just kidding."

me (confused): "no, you are sick. why would you say that?"

_____: "because it SOOO funny. i know he'll laugh. but he hasn't responded yet and it's been a while now..."

me: "i have to say i'm not surprised."

i'm not a bathroom-humor appreciator. so, i could not laugh with her at her little joke. but i was definitely laughing at her.

the conversation continues, she telling me about their latest emotionally-heavy conversation and other things of serious nature i won't mention.

me: "______, i think you need to ease this up a bit. it's getting too intense too fast. keep it light, keep it light!"

______: "i know! i am trying--that's why i said the diahrrea joke."

awesome.

A Kickin' Christmas Present

2011-01-06T10:35:00.000-08:00

i'm a bad gift-giver in general, and an especially bad one when it matters most--Christmas and my Best Friends' Weddings. this is apparent in my loved ones' lives in two ways: they either get nothing or they get something they don't like. my dad, for instance, has recently told me to stick to only giving him golf balls.

he already has buckets of balls.

there is one person that i am particulary good at giving presents to. it's Rachel (this girl), and she makes me. Rach is a great gift-giver. i realized the implications this would have on my life when we were new friends and i prepared her taxes for her, in return (haha) she gave me VS lotion as a thank-you gift. since then i've come to understand that i always am supposed to give presents.

this past Christmas we met up for a little Christmas shopping. something about Old Navy made us both realize neither of us needed any more clothes. so we decided to give each other a kickboxing class instead.

oh, yes.

tonight will be our first class. to find it, i had this conversation:

"hello. this is Master Tom."
"hi. i'm looking for a kickboxing class for my friend and i to take. do you do that?"
"miss, how did you get this number?"
"from ilovekickboxing.com"
"of course we have classes."
"okay, but i just want, like, a cardio class. i don't want to beat anyone up."
pause.
"well, it just depends on what you want ultimately, miss. just come on in. you can get a free pair of boxing gloves and three intro classes for $19.99. ask for me, i'm Master Tom. i call myself Master because i got credentials."

since i don't like extra stuff laying around my house, and i am not interested in punching anyone, the free gloves almost turned me off.

but instead, we signed up.

i'm not quite sure exactly what we signed up for, but i'm sort of excited.

Happy Hallie

2010-12-10T15:05:00.001-08:00

My little niece Hallie just had her 1st birthday. Here are some pictures I've collected of her first year. I love this girl madly.

Happy Thanksgiving

2010-11-30T09:23:00.000-08:00

I held Thanksgiving this year. Basically it was because I like to cook, and I like to be in charge. So, Thanksgiving dinner is a good time to bring those two things together.

It was great.

Look at this shiney, healthy mother!

Dad Fred and Fay, all the way up from Zuni, NM!

Jeremy and Courtney. Jeremy is my friend from France, so I'd thought we'd through a little French spice into the mix. Court is my cousin and roommate--a big help cooking cooking cooking.

Get ready for the yams! They are my mom's specialty.

You just can't carve a turkey without an electric knife, as Dad Jerry pointed out.

Best stuffing ev. This recipe: Apple Sausage Stuffing

Ry and Emily. After-dinner visit with cousins. Wait--you may say, "this kid is not your cousin!" and you would be correct. He's my friend who is dating my cousin. Happy Thanksgiving, bring people together.

Welcome Back

2010-11-23T09:04:00.000-08:00

the pitiful state of my blog-keeping has been pointed out to me by numerous persons. i am succombing to pressure and updating. don't think less of me.

the months since june 22 have been quite eventful. a rundown:

I...

started a relationship
ended a relationship
had a new roommate move in
got a cat
same roommate moved out
she took the cat
continued to love love love my niece Hallie
started a new job
new-apartment searched
had a birthday
lost my grandpa
bought a great pair of boots
lost a bet due to said boots
changed my mind about numerous things
went to a fab concert
heard the miraculous news that my mother's liver function has gone from dead to 69% alive.

and, finally,

made some good decisions about how to respond to complicated situations.

i will expound on some of these things next, in less than six months.

Trip Across the South

2010-06-22T21:10:00.000-07:00

One of the great blessings of my life is to have so many friends that live in so many places. It almost seems that anywhere I need to go, I know someone in that city and I can't crash at their place. I love visiting friends and having them show me around their lives.

Hooray for being a teacher and having summers off! Free to do whatever I want. This year, I'm traveling around the South to see some of my best girlfriends.

The itinerary is this:

Meeting Mare in Atlanta, GA
Staying at her house in Athens for a bit
Meeting Nellene in Chattanooga, TN
Visiting her place in Nashville
Back to Mare's
Road trip with Mare to DC
Mare drops me off at Joy's in Richmond, VA
Meet back up with Mare in DC to visit Audrey
Travel down to Savannah, GA
Find Trishelle in that charming little town
Spend a few days with Trish and fam in Jacksonville, FL
Then...

I am yet to buy my ticket home, so who knows.

Glitter

2010-06-22T20:48:00.000-07:00

my favorite gift for my last birthday was a pink, glittery bouncy ball. it was from my sister. possibly i loved it for its sharp contrast from my then-boyfriend's gift, which revealed all too clearly that we needed to break up; possibly it was because i liked that on my 31st birthday--an "old woman" birthday--i was given a child's toy; possibly it was because i appreciated that Kaylee understood why that particular present was the perfect thing to give me.

probably it was simply something that i have left over from my childhood: a thing for bouncy balls. and, as with most things, the glitterier the better.

i also as an adult woman still love twirly skirts. i even brought two with me on my little trip.

this tendency for girly things explains why, when at dusk Nellene in Nashville said, "Heather, go look out the door. You will love it," she was right. out side her sweet little farmhouse, the fields that spread in front of it were sprinkled with twinkling fireflies. such a sight is purely delightful to me.

not to say that boys can't appreciate fireflies. but i will venture to say they don't like them for the same reasons i do.

from that night on, we went on walks in the night as often as we could, just to be in the fireflies. besides the people here, these just might be my favorite things about the South.

2010-06-22T18:38:00.000-07:00

there are many wonders to behold about modern technology. it's amazing how much convenience is added to our lives because of it.

facebook, for instance, definitely comes in handy beyond just checking up on old friends. it can also prove your identity.

one night Nellene and i went to a club in East Nashville to listen to music. much to my chagrin, i realized right before we went in that i'd left my ID back at the house. Argh! #1: listening to live music is one of the purposes to Nashville, and to do that one actually needs to get into the club; #2: who leaves their ID hanging around by itself? bad babysitter.

not willing to give up easily, we ventured into the club anyway. oddly, the "bouncer" at the door just nodded at us and let us pass. he was more concerned with his laptop and cigarette than us. besides, we look like good girls.

i was confused. what?-- no cover? what?-- no ID? seeing the large bar that took up the majority of the little room, i knew that wasn't possible. so, much to Nellene's chagrin this time, i went back and spoke up.

"um...are we going to have to show ID? because i don't have mine."

the bouncer looks at me like i'm an idiot. "of course i have to see your ID."

then ensues a conversation about how i'm not going to drink, how we are obviously over 21, how we came clear from Salt Lake City, how he wasn't going to ask us anyway, and how all of this really didn't freaking matter; i still needed my ID.

eventually, he goes and asks the manager. it was to no avail.

i think because he once played music himself at some club in SLC and Nellene started talking to him about it (even though neither of us knew what place he was talking about), he eventually agreed to at least let me through and try to sway the manager myself.

now, i know i have a certain level of skill in the use of my feminine prowless. it has come to my aid on a few choice occasions and i am positive there have been jobs i landed due to flirting. the Teach for America gig I definitely did not get based on my academic background. my final interviewer had a mini crush on me, and i definitely milked that. this is not bad, it is survival. if ya got it, use it.

so, when i walked up to the manager and saw his response to me, i knew all would be ok. a few little tricks, him sighing in feigned exasperation, and finally, the solution:

"Do you have a facebook account that will show your age?"

victory.

and that is how i got into the club in Nashville with out my ID. i knew i wore that red lipstick for a reason.

The Farm House

2010-06-22T16:12:00.000-07:00

Nellene is one of my best friends from college. she was my advisor for a service club i directed. despite her best efforts to keep her relationship with her students professional, i won by making her my friend as well. eventually we were roommates in Logan, she road-tripped to me in Denver, flew to me in Philly, and let me sleep in her SLC bed a few years ago when my mom was in the hospital down the street from her. that is a true friend: someone willing to share their bed for 6 toasty summer weeks.

i value many things in Nellene. one of the greatest is her ability to help me understand myself. she's taught me much about patience, about relationships (a piece of her advice still rings in my ears: Let go of people who are bad for you), and about who i want to be as a woman.

Nel is recently married and now living in Nashville, TN with her husband Brian. they have a charming little farmhouse that belongs in Anne of Green Gables Land. AnneLand.

Perfect little Dream House!

Sammy

2010-06-22T15:52:00.000-07:00

not only do Nellene and Brian have a perfect little home in Dreamland, TN, they also have a very pretty baby. Samuel. i know you aren't supposed to call boys pretty, but he is. he can talk to me about this adjective when he's older.

Pretty, Pretty Tennessee

2010-06-22T15:16:00.000-07:00

I can't get over how dang pretty it is here. Behold:

Don't be alarmed by the baby on the railroad tracks. We were feeling for the train. Like good, responsible people.

Error Tonto

2010-06-18T16:46:00.000-07:00

yesterday we made a mad dash for the Athens-Clarke County Library in between play dates. Jonah, Ryanne, and Savannah each got to pick one movie to check out. as are most procedures involving three tired children, the check out was a bit hectic. we pushed the movies through with out checking them much beyond making sure they were meant for little eyes.

on the way out, Ry and Jonah were walking ahead of us having a conversation. Jonah, the Super-Reader, looked at Ryanne's movie and informed her of some bad news. she turned around, and in an exasperrated/panicky voice says, "My movie's in Spanish?!" Sure enough, Prince of Egypt was actually El Principe de Egipto. I didn't know they spoke Spanish in Egypt. I held in my chuckle and suggested to Ry that she might as well learn a new language. It's best to do it when you're young. She was appeased.

we got to the car and Ryanne showed Mary Ann the movie. finally, we both started laughing like crazy. ¡Pobrecito! Ry was confused at why this was so funny, but shrugged it off and said, "well now is a good time for me to learn Spanish. i've been wanting to anyway." this morning, much to our amazement, the kids watched the entire movie.

a few hours later Jonah said, "Mom, i really didn't get what that movie was about."
Mare: "That's because it was in Spanish. It's about Moses."
Jonah, enlightened: "Ooooh, that's why there was a burning bush!"

turns out, they really did learn some Spanish. well, they learned something. Savannah spent the day speaking to herself in tongues, and when i noticed she hid behind Mare's legs. she did, however, sing me a song in her new language as she held my face between her two little hands.

what a sweet little girl! ¡dulce niñita!

Road Kill

2010-06-17T17:52:00.000-07:00

there are many little creatures here that roam around as if unafraid. this guy was in Matt's mom's swimming pool, where we go every afternoon. it's a mole. a dead one. he should have watched his step.

the other day matt and mare and i were driving back from town. in the road ahead of us was a HuGE opossum. huge. ew. matt tried to miss it (or so he says), but to no avail. thunk, thunk.

i was distraught. matt!!! mare told me that we don't have to feel bad about hitting opossums, because they are so ugly.

matt says, "man that probably hurt. how'd it feel to get hit in the head with the bottom of the car?"

even spoken in the southern drawl, it's gross. i made matt turn around to go hit it again to make sure it was dead, so it wasn't suffering. he did, since he says he has no problem running over opposums.

much to my chagrin, when we got back it was gone. that is what i was freaking out about in the first place, that we didn't hit it hard enough and it would just crawl away and suffer. sigh. next time i'll ask him to speed up.

Jubal T.

2010-06-07T01:13:00.001-07:00

i haven't posted anything on here for about ever. i would not be good at running my own business, with my tendency of a short attention span for projects. you should see my kitchen walls.

i am grateful today for family. my Uncle Jubal died last week and this has made me realize not only how much i love my family, but especially how significant is my mom's new borrowed time for life.

Jubal was Jubal Troope Ritter. he was named after a character in a Western novel my Grandma was reading when she was preg. when he referred to himself, he called himself Jubal T. he is really tall and skinny, with very dark skin. we all wondered (though never out loud to Grandma before she died, unfortunately) if Jubal was really from the same father as the rest of our aunts and uncles. i think he is Mexican. or Native American. he also has this incredibly thick, wild hair, which he often wore in a red bandana. he recently got dentures and they were bright, bright white. he was always excited to talk about his job, and he told me recently that he got a life insurance policy and he put me as the beneficiary. then later i heard that he told my cousin Jill the same thing. basically, he just liked to make people happy, even if it didn't always make sense. today is his 51st birthday. Happy Birthday, Uncle Jube.

it is not news to anyone who reads this that my mom has been sick for the past few months. that is actually the main reason i haven't updated the blog--the illness was the only thing going on in my life and it was difficult for me to talk about. i still really dislike discussing it. 'not sure why. but, i still appreciate the love and concern and the effort of inquiry that so many people have shown.

Mom was supposed to die in April. then, she was supposed to die before Mother's Day. well, today she is still alive and kickin'. walking, actually, which is significant as there was a time that she couldn't even get out of bed, couldn't even open her eyes, couldn't even recognize me. hooray for a healing body! she is now on schedule for a transplant, as long as she can last 6 more months. fingers are crossed.

her illness has been hard on me. but, i am very grateful: 1. to be able to serve her so intimately 2. to have a chance to be a better person. i like that my mom is giving me this chance to become better. it's a chance to love someone completely selflessly. there's not a person that one should/could love more selflessly than one's own mother. i committed a while ago that despite the hardship, i will not let myself be annoyed, bitter, or regretful. but, that i'd let my mama teach me one more lesson on loving.

this morning as we were talking about Uncle Jubal, Mom said, "Maybe he took my place in dying." Sad. Maybe he did. It is his last sacrifice. i am sorry for his life ending, but will continue to be ever grateful for hers extending.

Good Question

2010-01-14T22:19:00.000-08:00

"Do you love yourself? Do you love anyone more than yourself?"

the questions were given to me for the second time, in a hurriedly-folded note, thrust into my hand my a student before she left my classroom for the last time. today was the last day of the semester, and my last day with most of my students. it was written in my student's pretty curled script.

in Tuesday's class, i asked my students to write down any hanging topics they would like to discuss in our final period. i got a range from, "How can I get over bad things that have happened in my past?" to, "I need help dealing with heartbreak," to "Do you love yourself? Do you love anyone more than yourself?" i took teacher's liberty and paraphrased 7 of the questions, put them on cards, and passed them out for class discussion. i'd changed up the above question to, "How do you know if you love yourself?"

my student who asked me is a beautiful girl who has recently moved from India. she gets frustrated with me here and there, and she and i sometimes write notes back and forth to discuss things. her last note communicated well her message to me that i had missed her point. in fact, it was even re-written on the back of my paraphrased card.

so, she gave me a second chance. the bell had rung and we had some still time. after she was sure i'd read her questions, she began shuffling through graded papers to let me know the answers needed to come now.

"Are you asking these questions specifically to me?"

A single, determined nod.

"Do I love myself? Yes."

An exhaled, ha! laugh.

"Lately, a couple of people have told me they feel that I don't love myself. Sometimes people misunderstand each other. But, I do love myself, even if sometimes I am not completely confident."

her eyes narrow, paper shuffling becomes more terse.

"I know that I love myself because I accept myself, even though I'm not perfect. And I know I am important to the world."

still no verbal response. suddenly it occurs to me that possibly she was looking for a philosophical conversation, not a confession. i feel a bit vulnerable. then, remember i am talking to the most private person i've ever met. my confession is safe.

"Do I love anyone more than myself?" hmmm. pause.

she looks up, to see why i didn't finish.

i didn't finish because i don't know.

"i don't know how to measure love for other people with love for myself. i don't know. i do love other people."

another, knowing, laugh.

"Do you love yourself?"

she answers.

"Does your mother love herself?

i don't think she'd thought of that.

"Do you love anyone more than yourself?"

another answer. i'm not sharing, because it's her private information.

i was very intrigued by this conversation. unfortunately right at this point, students began pouring in the room to discuss their sudden interest in getting good grades. it reminded me of a poster one of my teachers had on her wall back in my day, "Lack of preparedness on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine." i had to leave the conversation, and my philosopher's mother was waiting.

her question is yet unanswered. and i am not satisfied with her own answers. the semester ended too soon!

The Notebook

2010-01-07T19:55:00.000-08:00

i just found a notebook I used during my final semester of grad school at Penn. it has an empty section that i'm going to use now for study notes as i prepare to teach a sunday school class. each time i open it i find a new little treasure: contact info for the professor who kicked my intellectual butt and i admire him for it, especially since he helped me become a better academic writer; questions that led the last chunk of research i did on charter school authorization--interesting to see the thought process of the biggest project of my life; ideas for vocabulary instruction: concept circles, multiple contexts...; a sweet lesson plan Jill and i wrote to teach a short story through superstitions; chicken-scratch, shorthand notes i jotted down right after my then-boyfriend told me he loved me for the first time--it was in a parking lot outside the building my class was in, afterwards i ran to class (late) and wrote down everything. cute. and another thing, a short story i wrote during a dialect exercise for my English Methods class. it is untitled.

This is my dad. The picture shows just the two of us, 'cause it's just the two of us that's left. My mom and two brothers were in a car accident and died. I used to say they were killed, but when I used to tell people that word they thought I was being dramatic. At least that's what I think they thought of me. That was back when I cared what people thought of me. I don't, now. So I guess I can say that my mom and two brothers were killed in a car crash and it don't matter how I say it.

Before the crash, I used to help my mom with my little brothers. They were always running around and getting into trouble. I had to keep an eye on them for my mom on account of her headaches. She would just get really mad at them. I knew they didn't know any better so I just tried to keep them under control. This one time, though, I still feel really bad about it. When we came home from the store one night Matty showed me this pack of gum he stole. It was the Bubbalicious kind that you can pop bubbles with, that you can smell it clear across the room. Well he showed that to me because he was going to share it with me and Jonathan. I thought it was pretty nice of him to share. And I sort of felt bad for him because he was all nervous and too excited to eat it. But then I saw it and even though he told me to "shshshsh," I still told my mom. She was really mad and we had to take it back to the store and give it back and Matty was crying. Mom didn't care if he was crying. She just got a headache and grounded him for a week. Now I think...he was just trying to share with me. Maybe I shoulda just let that go and ate some gum with him.

So now it's just the two of us, me and my dad. Things are better now than after the accident. They're just different. But at least my dad isn't freaking out all the time. It's weird to see him crying and try to take care of things without my mom. And sometimes it's awkward with just the two of us alone, but we got to where we really like watching movies with eating popcorn and chocolate. Mom, that was her favorite mix in her mouth and so we eat that just when watch movies.

that's it. the dialect is heard better in my own handwriting. i wonder what made me pick such a sad subject. i can't recall, but i do remember that i was too timid to read it infront of the class, even though i wanted to. so there it is.

Girl Advice

2010-01-04T21:20:00.000-08:00

i couldn't fall asleep last night because i was excited to see my students. weird but true. and it's a good thing school started again, because ________ needed to have a conversation. it went like this, as he sauntered up to my desk after class:

him: "miss, have you noticed that people don't really hold hands anymore?"

me, not really paying much attention: "i have not noticed. in fact, people actually still do hold hands."

him: "i hate holding hands."

me, now only pretending to not be paying much attention: "girls like it."

him, with a manly snarl: "i feel like i am going to, like, crush the girl's hand or something."

me: "well, how exactly are you holding hands?"

him: "just holdin'. then, my hand gets all sweaty and i feel weird when i have to let go to wipe it on my pants. it's sick."

me: "don't let your palms touch. just lace your fingers together, but don't smash the hands to each other. and sometimes you can sort of change position or switch hands."

his eyes narrow in thought.

me, gently: "holding hands is something ya just should do, if you like the girl. it's nice. it's most important that you grab her hand with confidence. act like you know what you're doing."

him, shrugging: "well anyway, happy new year."

hee hee. cute.

The Red Tent

2009-11-29T18:45:00.000-08:00

My maternal grandmother is dying. She has a myriad of problems, and recently was given a month to live. Right now my mom is staying the week with her up in Pocatello, so that she can help her put up all of her Christmas decorations. My grandma loves Christmas, and I like it that my mom gets to help her set up for her last one.

Last year I read a book called The Red Tent, written by Anita Diamant. It is set in Old Testament Jacob's time, and is largely about the relationships of the women in his family. The red tent was the women's tent, and therein did each girl learn about her role as a woman and the gifts of her mothers and sisters. It's a good story, except for a few historical liberties the author took that I don't agree with. Overall, it beautifully shows how women are bound together through family, experience, and understanding.

The women in my family are now in our own Red Tent. With our matriarch leaving us, each is becoming very aware of how we are connected to her and therefore to each other. Everyone that comes to visit Grandma somehow speaks to how strong she is. With each telling all of her daughters nod, acknowledging that the visitor is correct and we know this because we too have pieces of her strength and pride that we carry. Each of us has naturally picked up a role of caregiver, making sure Grandma is as comfortable as possible. My aunt and cousins, especially, have been her constant companions physically and emotionally. When we are all together it is like bees in a hive, buzzing around the queen because we love her. I especially like to be near her, sitting next to her in the living room, or curled up with her in bed for a nap. It is pleasurable to be so close to this woman from whose blood and spirit I've come.

My grandma is dying now because she has chosen to. She has been given options to prolong her life, but has determined she is content to be finished. This has been a difficult concept for all of us to digest. But despite our own wishes, we support her because we know we'd all expect the same liberty to choose our path.

Death is an uncomfortable thought, and I push the concept to the back of my mind until I have to deal with it directly. Watching my grandmother face it with determination and sweetness makes me proud of her. My mother, aunts, and cousins all feel that though we are losing a beloved, we are doing it in a way that helps us to understand ourselves. And it is a definite blessing to be able to share these last days with her, hopefully showing such tenderness as is merited to a woman at the end of a long life. We care for her instinctively not only because she is Grandma, but also because she is a model of each of us, taking our last steps in life. One and the same.

2009-09-01T20:32:00.000-07:00

man, i should update this one of these days.

There are better places to put your cell phone than...

2009-07-27T21:52:00.001-07:00

the edge of the sink next to the toilet

the door pocket of your car, that throws everything out when slammed shut

underneath any sort of tire

the pocket of your dirty jeans headed for the wash

Dwight's jello

the dash bench in the front window (sizzle, sizzle)

your classroom desk, available to all students

a window sill, open for all to enter or exit

and

in the hip of your bathing suit. especially when wearing said bathing suit while on "loading the waverunner" duty, which requires you to be in the lake. hips included.

blast.

of course i am annoyed at the amount of money i cost myself for not thinking. i am especially regretful of the notes i had tucked away in there. like the ones i took recently while listening to an interesting 2 a.m. conversation at Huntington Beach. irretrievable.

blast.

p.s. if my drowned phone had your number in it, please send it to me.

2009-07-21T22:33:00.000-07:00

it was only 107 degrees today! woot, woot.

Open Culture

2009-07-19T12:06:00.000-07:00

i just found a great new site:

www.openculture.com

from this you can access many different FREE university lectures from some of the top schools around the country. click on some of the samples below:

African American History: The Modern Freedom Struggle

Historical Jesus

Introduction to Non-violence

Man, God and Society in Western Literature

Death

Justice, A Journey in Moral Reasoning

Biology

Introduction to Human Nutrition

i am going to first go through The American Novel Since 1945

yum.

you can also download educational podcasts and learn Spanish.

it's my new favorite site.

I Got Dumped

2009-07-04T22:48:00.000-07:00

last Saturday i went kayaking with my roommate and friends down some river that is pretty calm. it was my first time. i loved it. i love water. i love boats. i loved my rowing class in Philadelphia, so i figured this was just a rougher extension.

mandy the roommate (my second roommate named Amanda, both of similar looks, come to think of it) put me in the lightest kayak. i guess this means it naturally goes the fastest. a mile or so down the river, i ended up significantly ahead of the rest. just around the river bend, i noticed rapids and the river forking around a chunk of land. i was unconcerned, as i'd already gone over a bit of roughness before when i was still with everyone, and it was all smooth sailin'. since i'd noticed the others a bit worried about me making it over the first ones, i was sort of excited to go at these alone and have to figure out how to balance and steer. i was pocahontasly confident that such dexterity would come naturally.

the elements of nature like to find ways to humble us when we consider them so lightly.

i did well over the first half of the stuff, adding to my pompousness. then my kayak stopped heeding my direction, and began following a current that was headed for a big ol' bunch of trees hanging down over the river. no biggie. i made it past one branch. then the next. and i never had to deal with the third. that's because somehow i was suddenly under the kayak instead of in it. it was like someone had picked the kayak up like a cup of water and dumped me in the sink. glass of heather on the rocks. i thought at that moment that now would have been a good time for a life jacket, but i didn't dwell on that much. nor did i mourn more than an "argh" at my suddenly bare feet. i was more concerned about keeping the kayak. i grabbed it and snagged the oars. realizing it wasn't going to flip back over (i'd forgotten to ask what to do if i got dumped) i just did my best to hop on top and ride it out.

so, i lost my shoes by kept the boat. fair trade. i'd do it again. that silly river, it was nothin'.

I Didn't Mean Anything By That

2009-07-02T22:30:00.000-07:00

a man answered a particular door i knocked on tonight, surrounded by little kids. he said he was interested in the service, but could i come back in a month?

then the following conversation really happened:

me: "no problem. what's your name, sir?"

the man surrounded by kids: "(klfjeiojvklm)ike." this was inaudible.

me: "hm? Dike?"

no joke. of all letters to chose to throw before ike, i pulled out a D. so, like, Dyke.

the man surrounded by kids: cocks his head to the side--"Mike."

me: half gasp, half shriek--"i can't believe i just asked if your name is Dyke."

both of us start laughing. i am also grimacing.

me: "i'm really glad you have a sense of humor."

the man surrounded by kids: "i have to, look at all these kids."

me: "so can i still come back in a month?"

the man: "yes."

a few hours pass by. i am going back through the neighborhood, running to some houses that asked me to return that night.

i see a man out on his lawn talking to some blonde girl. i fail to make any connection to my earlier horror moment.

me: "hey! how's it going? do you have p----"

the man on the lawn with the blonde: "you were already here. you're coming back in a month. you called me Dyke."

blonde girl, laughing: "she called you what? how did she know?"

me, escaping: "i'll see you in august."

Dyke: "can't wait."

It's Not Hot

2009-06-30T22:25:00.000-07:00

these are the things i try not to let myself think while i am walking around in the 109 degree death heat:

"I am going to die."

"I can't breathe."

"My car is sitting in the sun and will be 130 degrees when I get to it, but who cares because I am going to die before then."

"My clothes are sopping wet."

"If I worked at McDonald's, I could be in air conditioning."

"Michael Jackson never had to do something like this."

thought like these, or my internal scheming about what i could go back and say to the huge scary man who yelled at me, only make me cranky. so i try not to do it.

but i am sure i will think of the perfect retort tomorrow.

It's like rain on your wedding day...a free ride when you've already paid.

2009-06-26T22:02:00.000-07:00

ironic is this:

the day i moved into my apartment as a college freshman i met my across-the-way neighbors, two girls who were quite old. one was 21 and the other, a returned missionary from Oklahoma, 23. both single and completely normal. neither realized the level of her life's despondency.

i thought then that if i got to 21 and was unmarried, i'd be embarrassed and die. and, by the way SICK! who goes to Oklahoma on a mission? that girl should've stayed home.

three years later, as i opened my own mission call to Oklahoma City, my friend Jeff shrugged and voiced a similar sentiment: "you don't have to go, you know." i knew that my attitude to the old girl across the hall had come back to bite me in the butt.

to top off the irony of my 18-year-old know-it-all self, i am thirty and unmarried. and remarkably unembarrassed.

fast forward a few years and a few singles wards: Edmond, Philadelphia, Denver, Philadelphia again. around late-April, early-May enter the Bug Boys into the ward dynamics. they come in packs of 12, twenty minutes late to sacrament meeting souped up in their flashy ties, flip flops and bleached tips. you know what i'm talking about. they're halfway through their summer in your ward right now. awesome. i've always been, ahem, bugged by these people.

in the typical pride cycle of my life, i am now the Bug Girl. i'm selling pest control for my cousin's company in Phoenix. awesome.

this is why it's a good job for me: i like walking all over the place, i get to wear a skirt, i talk to interesting people all day, i have a basically undeterrable demeanor, i am learning the names of all sorts of Arizona flowers, and i only have to commit to the job for two months. perfect. isn't it ironic?

Yesterday I Drove to Phoenix

2009-06-18T16:25:00.000-07:00

the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. which is why i chose to drive on highway 89 to get to Phoenix, where i am living for the summer. it's also an exceptionally pretty route. driving through my entire state in one day, from Cache to Kane County made me appreciate my roots.

i am guilty of only listening to favorites on my iPod, so i tried to get through as many songs as possible on the trip. i made it to track 289. the iPod seemed to favor Cat Power, Griffin House, Dave Matthews, and The Chipmunks. pretty good taste, with some room for improvement.

65 miles an hour doesn't mean much to me. this is because i don't have a working speedometer. this is my lot, as none of my past three vehicles has had one. so, i read my speed by gauging the environment around me. if i am being blown away by semi trucks, i'm going too slow. too fast when the car starts shaking.

i was quite surprised to get pulled over, since there was no shaking. the cop was very amused at my quick document-retrieval skills, and the flower elastic and catholic bracelet in my glove box. he wrote me up for 6 miles over the limit instead of the deserved 20 (not that i could verify the accuracy of this good deed). i think it's cause he liked my music.

ninety-two bucks of thanks, man.

because i'd only gotten a tad over 5 hours of sleep the night before, i was pretty tired. toward the end of the trip i had a solo car dance party to keep myself awake. my brother Myles continued to poke me the last few hours with phone calls and text messages, and Fred decided to drive up and meet me about an hour out of Phoenix to make sure i made it. in the perfect humor of the universe, right as i FINALLY saw the exit i needed, the Hallelujah Chorus took over the dance party.

Hallelujah! now i need to find a place to live.

Hip Hop

2009-05-28T19:50:00.000-07:00

about six weeks ago, i got a student straight from M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i.

well, not straight from Mississippi. he caught a few rides with some semi-trucks with people he semi-knew and came semi-straight here--just a slight detour through North Dakota.

sort of like a Southwest flight.

i can semi-understand him. but thanks to my Philly language training plus my many conversations with Dawgs fan Matt Murray, i figured Girek out pretty quick.

another student of mine, David, who is White Hispanic, often quips to me, "you don't like me cuz i'm Black." it is usually easily ignored.

except that he said it to me on Girek's second day.

David: "you don't like me cuz i'm Black."
Miss Bankhead: "you're not Black."
Girek: (to David) "who you callin' Black?"
David: (with chin buried in chest) "me. sometimes i say i'm Black."
Girek: (confused) "but you not Black."
Miss Bankhead is getting uncomfortable.
David: "but i want those bunnies."
Girek: "what? you think all black people got bunyons?"
David: "bunnies."
Girek: "cuz i don't got bunyons! my grandma--she got bunyons."
Miss Bankhead: "David, what the crap are you talking about?"
Girek: "don't go around saying all Black people got bunyons."
Miss Bankhead: "david are you talking about legs?"
Girek: "you don't get bunyons on your legs! you get 'em on your feet! it's that bone that sticks out."
David: "bunnies."
Miss Bankhead: (who is deducing from the students around that "bunnies" means calf muscles somehow) "no, Girek, calf muscles."
David: "yeah. bunnies. for jumpin'."
Girek: "oh yeah. white boys don't jump. I can jump."
David: "bunnies."

translation successful. problem solved.

*special thanks to Kaylee for the Mississippi spell check

business

2009-05-04T15:49:00.000-07:00

these are a few of the things that have been going on lately: zach is getting really good at spitting in a straight line and hitting the garbage can. mani was in a car accident. cutting the left side of her face up pretty badly. she still has her sight, but quite a few deep scars. _____ lost a baby. ______had an abortion. _______fell of the wagon, which she has been on since she was 14, after being an alcoholic for two years before that. anna has a new boyfriend and is quite excited. _____ was hospitalized for depression. _______'s father was deported. raymond dropped out, but then came back, much to my delight!

keanu has been finishing his assignments lately, and now has a C+ in my classes; i am taking ben out of his world civ class, in which he has a 10%, and making him do the work in my class, since i can command him and he obeys. until he reads this. my blog is really ugly. the soccer team is playing Highland tomorrow. they whipped Cottonwood last week. receipts are due for any expenses we've spent on the classroom. we get reimbursed here--can you believe it?! whoop for Utah.

a Cottonwood Heights cop was in the parking lot today, causing quite the stir. Camille won a car from Ken Garff, it was most deserved. Manases and i got into an debate about the reality of zombies, he won due to his proof via Wikipedia of the toxoplasma gondii parasite. blast. ritchie rarely comes to school anymore, so i sent him a note on a hot-pink piece of paper. the next day as i was practically tripping down the stairs carrying a box of books, he was at the bottom waving it at me. awesome. _____ just found out he's going to daddy. he's 16.

meanwhile, we are learning about commonly confused words. behold:

Name____________________________________

Commonly Confused Vocabulary Words

affect/effect

affect—verb, to influence something else. The bad weather will affect her illness.

effect—noun, a result of something. The effect of the bad weather is that she got sick.

between/among

between—use it when you are talking about two things. I am choosing between a Toyota or a Ford.

among—use it when you are talking about three or more things. I am deciding from among all the cars in the lot.

either/neither

neither—use it to reject only two things. Neither of those shoes gives me blisters.

OR—use it to agree with a negative statement. She doesn’t want any soup and neither do I.

either—use it to mention only two things. I have a blister from either my flipflop or my sandal.

OR—use it to agree with a negative statement in a different way. She doesn’t want any soup. I don’t, either.

fewer/less

less—use when you are talking about one item. I would like less cheese.

fewer—use when you are talking about two or more items. I would like fewer onions and tomatoes.

good/well

good—use when you are describing an object. That burger is good!

well—use when you are describing an action. She swims well.

irregardless/regardless

irregardless—no such word! Don’t use it! It’s like saying “I could care less.” It doesn’t work.

regardless—not paying attention to a possible problem. He is not going to do his homework, regardless of his grade.

waste/waist

waste—lots of meanings. Stuff you throw away. Stuff you needlessly use up. Slang for kill. You got it. Don’t waste your talent.

waist—that body part that girls want to be small and boys don’t really have. When a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist and a….

NOW:

Write a sentence, using each word correctly.

The Flag

2009-04-19T14:01:00.001-07:00

my first monday morning at my current school, a student giving the announcements began to lead the Pledge of Allegiance. this was unexpected to me and as it began i panicked for a moment, looking around the room for students who cannot stand for the Pledge due to religious or other issues. i needn't have worried. since i started in February, and i'm teaching high school instead of middle school, students who are uncomfortable with the Pledge already know their rights. the entire class stood.

today as i was walking into church, two 12-year-old boys were raising the flag. a grandpa was walking ahead of me. when he saw the boys and their process, he set down his briefcase and put his hand over his heart until it was complete.

perfect example of reverence.

The Beauty Pageant

2009-04-16T19:13:00.000-07:00

wasn't really a beauty pageant. but i failed to inform my friend Trishelle of this when i invited her to go with me to see one of my students compete in the Mr. Utah pageant. so when we saw the contestants through an outside window, and they were wearing just about nothin', she was delicately surprised.

whoops. i was likewise surprised when i saw, through described window, my student Eedee wearing only a little black somethin'. i think i am not supposed to see students like that, so it was a bit embarrassing. i slid back quickly instead of waving.

Eedee is the third from the right. anyone think the guy on the far right is worth a chuckle?

here is Eedee, later, clothed.

everyone was surprised to see each other on all levels.

the note

2009-04-08T14:13:00.000-07:00

the other day, lucy came to class dead. she was representing a life taken by gang violence, so was going throughout the day wearing all black with her face painted white. she could not speak to anyone, including teachers.

she also came in with a new hair-do. her waist-length black hair was bleached up to about 8-inches of the ends. imagine a paint brush dipped in orange paint. yeah, it's bad.

i was happily ignoring her. eventually she passed me a note.

"does my bottom hair look funny?"

"it looks artistic. what did you do to it?"

"i just mix some stuff and then i bleach it and then i foil it for 25 minutes."

oh, that's how you do it!

dolls are OK

2009-03-31T15:11:00.000-07:00

a steady rhythm is developing in my classroom. i am very pleased with the relationships i'm developing with my students and how well they respond to lessons that i sometimes fear to teach. i finally know the ticks of most of my kids and how to best respond to them, encourage them, and whose parents i once in a while need to ring up.

i am beginning a unit on Tolerance. tolerance toward others in all forms. i am going to start out big: Holocaust, Mexican American unions, a bit of the Civil Rights Movement; and end small: respect toward homosexuals, peers, the girl with the weird earring, etc. i include sexual orientation in the "small" category because i want to address some discriminatory situations i've noticed around the school.

so today we started talking about Gender Differences. Zack is a big tough kid, who is covered in tattoos and is the one who told me the current prices of a pack of smokes and a 6-pack. i heart him. i also owe him $20 for a coupon book. in the lesson i asked various questions: is it okay for girls to tickle each others' backs? is it okay for guys to? is it okay for 2 girls to sleep in the same bed on vacation? for 2 guys? i was trying to get to the point that standards are quite different for men and women. Zack responded immediately to my question of, "is it okay for little boys to play with baby dolls?" with a "hell yes. i played with dolls until i was ten."

awesome.

same class, Samir was standing by the door right before the bell rang. he is from Bosnia. a girl came in to ask me something, and after she left he said, "i came to America with her."

i love the diversity in my classroom!

Whoa Tarzan

2009-03-26T22:17:00.000-07:00

my new friend Trisha called me up this afternoon and asked me to go country dancing with her. i love to dance, but not usually with people since i can find no one's rhythm but my own. it sounded fun though so i said yes. the place had this sign posted, which i thought was quite funny.

i haven't been in Utah Mormondom for quite a while. i'd forgotten what the mass social dance scene was like since i outgrew institute dances when i was like 19. in the country dance realm, it's full of lots of early-twenty-somethings excited to show off their muscles.

one kid was swinging me around with particular intensity. i think he felt hot in his tight Hollister t-shirt. and he was quite excited about the speed with which he was able to twirl himself around.

after i guess he was satisfied that i wasn't going to let go, he asks me,

"How strong are your stomach muscles?"

"Uh...they work."

"Well, like, can you hold yourself up in a lift? 'cause, see, i wanna do this lift."

"what kind of lift?"

"how about this, how stiff can you hold your body?"

"WHAT are you trying to do?"

then he just lifted his two arms as if they were pushing up a barbell far above his head.

"No."

dude. who are you? do you seriously think i trust you enough to let you put me up in the air like that? right.

that's like kissing on the first date. you need to do a little more to get that than flexing your biceps. in fact, you have to be really good. and probably foreign.

big biceps are nast.

side note: speaking of dancing and foreigners, in Brasil i was told, "you're a really good dancer. except you dance like an American girl."

I need to branch out.

2009-03-24T21:19:00.000-07:00

i just painted a wall in my living room the exact color of this blog.

Moving Out

2009-03-23T20:13:00.000-07:00

i have an advisory class of seniors. i see them every thursday for half an hour, and can use the time for whatever i want. i've decided to teach a series of lessons about moving out of the house for the first time.

here is a list of topics i brainstormed. does anyone have any other ideas for things they wish someone would have talked to them about before they took off on their own?

finding an apartment: planning and seeking
unpacking the apartment contract
legal issues around eviction, landlord/tenant responsibilities, deposits
stuff you need for your new apartment
documents you need to have and how to get them: birth certificate, social security card, passport, insurance info, tax info, etc; be aware of what's in your wallet (in case of loss)
travel/studying abroad/learning languages
budgeting
credit: credit cards, credit history, student loan maintenance
paying for school
paying for life in general
finding cheap groceries and planning healthy meals; easy recipes
getting and maintaining reliable transportation
manage time, stress, etc.; depression, eating disorders, other emotional health issues?
roommate issues
volunteer work
insurance: car, renters, health
laundry

what else did we learn via hard knocks about being adults?

ps-why is it still snowing?

The Thing about Living in Utah

2009-03-19T20:54:00.000-07:00

is this: i have family around.

i've been the one that lived far away for the past 12 years of my life. despite this, i just realized i've been on my own for a long time.

until recently, i didn't know i didn't know this.

Sunday night i cooked meatless chili for my vegetarian cousins. it was pretty gross, but that's okay because vegetarians are used to eating gross things. scott and annalyn gave me advice on paint, getting furniture upholstered, and talked with me about my classroom. today, scott gave me two versions of the audio book of the next novel i'm teaching at school. i needed it and was going to have to buy it for $25.

a couple of weeks ago, i finally went and got new license plates for my car. of course i didn't put them on right away. when my dad noticed, he took my keys and went out in the ice and put them on.

despite the fact that i am trying hard to be especially frugal, i couldn't stand to buy my needed pots and pans at the DI. it was just too gross and rusty a day for me. i told my parents the story. a week later, i had a huge box of pans.

i moved into my sort-of grandma's apartment. she told me i didn't have to pay rent until i got my first paycheck from the district.

when i moved into said apartment, my mom and best friends spent a Saturday helping me clean it.

i hadn't know how nice it is to be helped. living away family, i've either forged things out on my own (experience i value) or asked for help when needed from friends. i hate asking, though, so it was always uncomfortable. but, here, with my fam, it's normal. and it's incredibly relieving.

i also love being so close. usually my family visits are a big deal because they involve a plane ride. now, i can run out to my parent's house for dinner on a Tuesday, go see my grandma for a weekend, and go running with my cousin. i know these things seem so simple to most people. but the fact that i have missed such a life during my adulthood makes me quite appreciative of it now. it is very fulfilling to be an active dynamic in the lives of the people i love.

my dad recently told me that i should settle down. "a rolling stone gathers no moss," he reminded me. coincidentally, an old boyfriend used this exact phrase the other night at dinner. except from the other view, "you're a rolling stone. you can't stay in one place. it's not who you are."

two men that know me best, each understands a different side of me. i am tempted to stay because i am happy here. but i am tempted to go because i always curious and restless.

who knows.

Chats

2009-03-04T20:01:00.001-08:00

tonight was night 1 of parent teacher conferences. i had a table amongst all the A-B named teachers and was the only one that ate her own welcoming candy. no one really knows me yet so i happily sat there alone munching on Swedish Fish and reading Consumer Report. 9 people did stop by my table. two of those were Zack and Ben, who were on their way back from the mall. these boys were mentioned before.

Zack began the conversation with, "Miss, you voted for Obama, huh?"

"Yes."

"I knew it by the way you say stuff. You know he smokes, right?"

"Yeah. Lots of people smoke."

Long pause.

"Well, just so you know, I was for McCain all the way. He woulda had my vote if I coulda."

interesting. i've never said a word about my political preferences, yet i guess they're pretty transparent. at least to those who would recognize them. a concept brought to my attention in grad school is that teachers are always in danger of pushing an agenda. even indirectly. it comes out through pedagogy and book choice and descriptions. and, as in my case, "the way i say stuff." somehow, this particular manner reveals my Choice. being in a position of influence over children, this passes an agenda. possibly this is unavoidable.

curious, also, that Zack wanted to clear up his stance on the issue. i'm impressed.

i decided then that since we'd opened up about the president, i could broach the acne problem. i know it's a touchy subject, but is still one that needs to be done if the opportunity permits. i told them about my sure cure. it's this: Aqua Glycolic toner and Rosac cream. the toner doesn't require a prescription, but it is purchased in the pharmacy. it's blue. maybe it's green, i can't really tell those colors apart. Rosac is only prescribed. once one has those things, they should use the toner morning and night in place of any other cleanser, and rinse it off. nothing else. then, the cream. a new face is on the way.

again, an agenda.

Fitting In

2009-02-27T17:52:00.000-08:00

today was a small victory in my two week teaching life at this new school.

my students played a game with out anyone getting in trouble. this would not have happened in Philly.

sophomores Zach and Ben teased me after class about my big fish/small fish analogy. then i later heard them discussing it in the hallway. these are two boys who, on my first day as their teacher, gave me the "Who The Hell Are You" look and put in their earphones as soon as i started talking. they take them out now when i raise my eyebrow. and they participate.

also on my first day with the sophomores, Cecelia got mad that i wouldn't let her talk to Tangi during the assignment. she sat in the back of the room repeating over and over: "i hate her." today Cecelia asked for my help.

the second day of teaching said sophomore class, i felt sick before school and i had to stop writing on the board in class because my hands were shaking. i laughed inside at that today as i distinctly noticed the return of my confident and strict tone and saw positive responses in the students. phew.

i handed out an essay assignment and no one grumbled. it even has to be typed.

Matthew, who three days ago whined about not watching any movies, exhaled in excitement when i told him the next book we're reading. you know that, "hoooooooa!"

Bryan was new to our school last week. his English transfer grade was an F. when he turned in a half-completed assignment, i gave it back with a "No way, man. You finish that thing or it's unacceptable." he has done extra on every assignment since and still waves at me in the hallway.

these may seem like small things, and they are. but any teacher out there will understand each one's significance.

Janitorial Assistance

2009-02-26T17:09:00.000-08:00

the toothless janitor in my building comes in every afternoon around 2:35 to empty the trash and remind me to recycle.

today, he gave me some ideas of jokes i could use on my students.

there was a woman taking a bath in milk. the man came in and asked if it was pasteurized. she said, "nope, it is just up to my waist."

2. (placing two pennies in my palm)

"do ya see two snakes there?"

"no."

"ya sure?"

"sure."

"look again. there're two copper heads."

3. (this time taking the pennies back)

"there are two uses for these:

a) a penny for your thoughts

b) talk is cheap

thanks, sir. where did you say is the recycling bin?

"I'd buy a $1,000 worth of spicy chicken."

2009-02-25T15:07:00.000-08:00

my Sophomore English class is reading Steinbeck's The Pearl. i didn't like the book back when i read it in 8th grade, so i was annoyed when i found out that the class was already a chapter in when i joined the staff. however, my mind has been opened. i now really like the story and love teaching it. my students seem to feel likewise.

today we did an assignment (to connect the story to their lives) about purchasing power and values. Kino, the main character, comes upon a potential fortune with his discovery of a valuable pearl. he tells his neighbors and family that with the money he will pay for him and his wife to be married in a church, he will educate his son, buy new clothes for the family, and then get a new harpoon and rifle for himself. his desires here show that he values family, independence, societal recognition, the release from ignorance, among other things.

my students listed a few things they would do with $200,00, and what their choices reveal about what they value most.

if I had a sudden $200,000 i'd get rid of student loans and buy a plot of land. where would I buy the land? Denver, probably. then i'd make plans to build small little houses on it that everyone i love could live in. these houses would be sort of far apart, so that no one would kill each other. we'd have a garden in the middle. lots of flowers. and, why not? how 'bout some Easter egg chickens.

this shows i value being debt-free, living in a place i love, being able to help fam and friends, comfort, beauty, and cute eggs. and, the fact that i did an assignment about money shows that i value people thinking about how they use theirs.

Babies

2009-02-24T14:26:00.000-08:00

I just overheard in my last class that one of my 15 year-old students is pregnant. She told a group of girls that she was sitting with, and they all looked at her in sympathy. One said, "Well, your baby will be pretty!..." and another, "Man I am not going there until I am 26!" This comment made me sad for the little doe-eyed girl sitting there with an expressionless face. She suddenly seems a lot tinier to me than she did before.

She has not yet told her parents. She is afraid to.

I tried to find a way conveniently pull her away from the group to chat, but to no avail. After class a herd of students needed help.

I am dying to talk to her, though I am afraid I don't know how. Unsolicited help doesn't always go over well with teens, and I don't have a relationship with her yet that would merit my barge. I don't have her class again until Thursday, and what if she needs someone now? Almost everything I think of to do seems a bit too overwhelming. Maybe I can sneak her out of another class tomorrow--but then say what? I could always write her a note and vicariously talk to her, but that almost seems insincere.

I wish I had snagged her today! No matter how uncertain I am about talking to her, I know that doing nothing because I don't know what to do would be the bigger mistake. It's my job, right? Is it presumptuous of me to assume she even needs or wants anything?

Even if so, I can't help it. I'll find a way to talk to her tomorrow.

She is a sweet little girl that needs help.

I hope I'm not belittling her.

Cute Cute Cute

2009-02-22T11:50:00.000-08:00

this is my cousin Selena's new baby, Lily. pretty girl!

i love this, the dog licking her toes.

Savannah

2009-02-20T11:41:00.000-08:00

this is my two-year old kindred spirit. we both love babies and flowers, and

are quite vocal about getting what we want.

Nail Tech

2009-02-18T11:22:00.000-08:00

my little sister is apprenticing to be a nail technician. the can't-live-without manicure girl. let me tell you, she is talented. you should see my toes.

nails might run in the family, as one of my favorite chores is cutting fingernails. not sure why, it just is.

Jonah and Ryanne recently let me tackle their's.

Thanks but...

2009-02-16T11:04:00.000-08:00

i've started my new job at a high school in Salt Lake. i'm teaching Sophomore English and Skills for Success, a class to support students who are struggling in school.
i'm really excited about this position, because i've been wanting to try out high school (over middle school) to see how it's different.

this is how it's different:

friday the students were divided up into 4 groups, 2 making a list on a poster about the reasons why people use certain drugs, and the other 2 describing the consequences of such use. Tyler was the scribe for his group, listing why some people choose to smoke marijuana. when i called for all lists to be posted on the board, his was the last to go up. his last bullet for why people smoke marijuana was "F%$* that Sh@#&."

this was of course written bigger than any thing else on the paper, so it was easily detected. i took it off the board and put it back on his desk. "I like that you're so against marijuana use. Please make this classroom appropriate." without a grumble he drew some pictures over it and it was ready to go up. looked pretty good, actually.

he also had on the reasons poster: "Because you know you're going to get some from your girl." to which a teacher can only reply: "Oh yeah, because a guy is so HOT when he is high!"

so, here we go.

Happy Valentine's Day!

2009-02-14T09:06:00.001-08:00

Valentine

Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.

Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or kissogram.

I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.

Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding ring,
if you like.
Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.

--Carol Ann Duffy

i found this poem while teaching poetry last year. it is one of my favorites.

check out Mary Ann's Valentine surprise. it sort of makes me want a husband.

Ronaldinho

2009-02-13T12:00:00.000-08:00

i saw this jersey hung up in a random hotdog store in LA a few weekends ago. these are usually on the backs of Brasilians.

different world

2009-02-08T20:55:00.001-08:00

there are some things that never cross a single girl's mind.

a potty chart is one of those things i've never thought about exisiting. this is the chart of cute little Ellie, my friend Angie's little girl.

i think the first catergory is especially amusing. when i told her this, my friend responded that i won't think it is so funny when i actually have to remember to teach such an imperative step.

i learned with my seventh graders, and myself, that stickers can be amazingly motivating.

APO is better

2009-01-27T13:22:00.000-08:00

I sent out some Christmas cards from Brazil over a month ago. They ended up being a bigger hassle than Christmas cards are worth. For instance, the day before Rachel and I left Brasilia we walked a couple miles to the post office in the rain to mail them, only to find out the post office was closed. Then I carried them around with me in my backpack on the trip for a while, and finally mailed them in Curitiba, mostly due to Rachel's brainstorming for something to do during our first few days there when we wanted to die.

Finally today on January 27, I've seen one arrive. I could have mailed them APO and had them arrive within two weeks, but I wanted them to have Brasilian postage and stampings. Now that I see one, it doesn't look that exciting at all. So the extra huge expense and time wasn't worth the cuteness.

Go APO.

If you didn't receive a card from me and you know that usually you would, don't be sad. Maybe I didn't send you one because of the above-explained situation, or maybe I did and yours just didn't make it. I'll tell you Merry Christmas next time I see you.

soon

2009-01-12T13:36:00.000-08:00

i shouldn´t be as excited as i am to get back, being that i´m returning to no home, no job, no car...
but i am!

Fala Portugues?

2009-01-07T17:02:00.000-08:00

we picked up Chad the other day. so far, he is the only person who has been impressed by my Portuguese. and that was only for about five minutes.

you know the song that you really love the rhythm to, but can´t quite make out the lyrics, and since you love that particular song so much you just sort of make up words so that you can sing it?

this is a good way to get made fun of.

such is my Portuguese-speaking experience. i love this language. it is beautiful. i love the smooth purr of it being spoken so quickly. i love that words pop out of mouths at their beginnings, but are softened at the end by gentle ch´s or gg´s or rrrr´s. it´s good on the ears.

hearing it contstantly all around me is no longer a novelty, but i still enjoy listening to it. however, since i can´t speak it and need to, i am usually just making things up. i´ve learned to turn my 30 use-able vocab words into sentences with some Heather-gibberish added in to compensate for everything else. i´m surprised by how often this seems to get things done. or at least at how often the Brasilians just humor me.

it has been a good smacking experience for me to be so daft with a language, especially being one who love the intricacies of English so much.

Argentines are Meat Snobs

2009-01-04T12:49:00.000-08:00

four huge Argentines towering over one cute little Brasilian butcher arguing over standards and cuts of meat is a sight to behold. i chuckled to see my new friends who i´d thus far only known to be pretty laid back getting worked up.

they were right, though. they did know what they were talking about, and their efforts gave us a Christmas Eve feast. it was a bit Bob Cratchitt, with a bunch of random travelers all meeting in our little hostel to have Christmas dinner.

Everyone from Argentina, Brasil, Venezuela, and of course the Americans.

Valentin, Federico, Rach, me, Javier. i guess Argentines don´t cook with clothes on.

Rach and Lucas

The Meat

before dinner, we asked to give a Christmas prayer. everyone was cool with that, and so Rachel prayed and Valentin translated. one of the boys tried to tape it, because he said his mother would never believe that he prayed over dinner.

Lucas said, "You are eating our food, and we are praying your praise. It is the perfect mix of cultures."

the Merry Christmas, Feliz Natal, Feliz Navidad toast. the boys bought Rach and i our own alcohol free treats.

Patience

2009-01-03T06:49:00.000-08:00

the Portuguese word for "to wait" is the same as "to hope".

Esperar.

i kept this in mind today as i was waiting in the intense heat to cross two insane streets to get drinking water from the store.

Plumeria

2008-12-31T05:52:00.000-08:00

this is what Brasil smells like: heat and salt, plumeria, a different, richer tobacco, aftershave and sunscreen. the sunscreen comes from us, we are trying not to get burned. it is to no avail, however.

The Baldwins

2008-12-23T20:00:00.000-08:00

i told you about our lame first day in Curitiba. After that, we went here

and here we met

Elder and Sister Baldwin

and that made us

rach and i are constantly noticing how blessed we are on our little adventure around Brasil. it is turning into something better than we imagined by doings not our own. somehow, we´ve met the choicest of people, been safe everywhere, gotten to places we´ve had no idea how, etc.

one of those blessings has been the sweet missionary couple that we ran into at the Curitiba Temple. they are from Clinton, UT and have been in Brasil for the past 5 months. they are here without Portuguese training, and they are running merely on faith. they are so happy to be experiencing Brasil, and every little thing is an adventure to them. they are completely submissive to the trials of a new and uncharted country.

i was particularly touched by their faith in sacrament meeting last sunday. they both gave talks for the first time in the meeting. their words had to be translated into Portuguese as they spoke. both were nervous and didn´t quite know how things would work. Sister Baldwin got up to the podium and was obviously feeling awkward and unsure of herself. however, as she began her talk and got into the swing of it, she spoke with an amazing dignity that demanded everyone´s attention. her message got through loud and clear. Brother Baldwin´s love for the Brasilian people was so obvious as he spoke of the Savior´s life and his desire for all to Come Unto Him. everyone in the room was very touched. rachel and i were incredibly proud of them, as we felt we´d seen the process from the beginning and were watching our already dear friends do something that was difficult.

seeing their sweet life is a testament to the blessings of serving the Lord. we got to know them quite well. their pure hearts and and trust in the Lord made us miss our own missions.

we love you Elder and Sister Baldwin!

I Love to See the Temple

2008-12-23T19:15:00.000-08:00

this big tree right in back of the temple is particular to the Curitiba area. when the temple site was picked, President Hinckley requested the temple be built around this tree.

wish i could remember the name of this. Eduardo?

Enormous

2008-12-23T19:00:00.000-08:00

Foz do Iguaçu=Big Water. Understatement. See here:

Everything was so beautiful. We could not believe what we were seeing. Each independent waterfall was amazing, and there were hundreds of them. 294 to be exact. I am sort of depressed looking at these pictures, because none capture what the falls really were like.

Iguaçu was definitely worth the trip. It was worth being the only trip, if we only had one to choose. We met a guy today who rode a bus 18 hours from Buenos Aires, and is turning around tomorrow to take the same trip back. He was happy he did it. By the way, this particular guy was recently laid off from Lehman Bros, so he took off to South America. I laughed when I found that out. Shouldn´t have, but sometimes I can´t help it.

We also loved the little town we were in. Our hostel was clean and pretty, the manager helped us with everything. There is a run-around man that has driven us a few places. He goes through the neighborhoods and honks at all his friends.

Here are some some pictures. I will be posting all of what we took on facebook, so watch there for them. They are amazing. xo

Little

2008-12-23T13:06:00.001-08:00

The cute little town of Foz do Iguaçu.

the horse and wagon in the background is the recycling service.

this is the pool bar that saved us with cheeseburgers our first day. wrote about that before.

so many different currencies around here!

my argentinian plate. this green pear was nast.

Curitiba

2008-12-19T15:32:00.000-08:00

I have so many good pictures that need to be posted from Iguaçu, just no time. Access to computers is rare.

We are now in Curitiba. We arrived at the city after a 10 hour bus ride from Foz do Iguaçu. It was a good little ride. We were on a sleeper bus that gave us treats and left right on time. We met a cool guy on the bus, Tomatiho, who helped us open the bathroom door. He has his hair in a braid all the way down to his rear. He has a coffee shop somewhere in Curitiba that we~ll probably stop by and say hey to him again.

We got to the city at 7 am, and it was freezing freezing freezing. We walked about a kilometer to our hostel. When I saw it from down the street, I immediately got concerned. It was sick. But, don~t judge a book by it~s cover, right? So we went in and the lobby was nice. We were then taken to our room. It was small, dirty, and smelled like urine. I asked for a different room, but none was available immediately. We were still tired and Rach is pretty sick (poor girl) so we decided to just sleep for a while. We were wet from the mist in the air walking, our room was freezing and stinky, we didn~t want to touch anything yet we were so tired...ugh it wasn~t a pretty picture. Also, the shower water was only cold. Ahhh...we were so spoiled in Iguaçu! We finally got another room, which still smelled like pee but not as bad. When I realized things weren~t getting any better, I found us another hostel and we checked out as soon as possible.

Our new hostel is beautiful and clean and smells good. The maid cleaned our walls even before we got in. It is like a little cabin resort back here. We~re out of the main city, so that helps things. Any Wilbur Family reading this: remember that little cabin place we went to a few times for reunions? It~s like that but prettier because it~s Brazil.

We made it to the temple today! Hooray! We found a bus that goes directly to it. There we met a missionary couple from Ogden who don~t speak Portuguese, Elder and Sister Bljiueirjka (can~t remember right now). When they found us to be English speakers, they were beyond excited. We are staying with them for the rest of the weekend and they are taking us all over the city and to church, etc. There is another little man at the temple that speaks English, Elder Nakuto, who is so so cute. He is Japanese Brasilian and speaks moderate Eng. We are spending the day in the templar tomorrow, so I am sure we will be bff with him and his lovely espousa by nightfall.

Bus ride today: at the bus stop, I asked a man standing there too if we were going the right direction. He asked me if I spoke English, but then continued to speak to me in some sort of weird Portuguese (I may not be able to speak Portuguese, but I can tell when something is off). I left him after getting my answer, and he came up to us a few seconds later to start up a conversation. He said he spoke Italian and English, but never actually spoke English. I think he thought Italian was English. Who knows. Anyway, he told us he was a policeman and showed us his badge. That didn~t do much for me because I could smell alcohol on his breath. Dude, your flashy little badge doesn~t make up for your bad breath. So he kept talking to us despite the fact that we were ignoring him. I was getting so annoyed that I finally started talking to him in English really fast, just to slow him down. I told him all about the run I went on this morning during which I got totally lost in downtown Curitiba, but found my way back because I recognized a building labeled Philadelphia and a weird manican (how to you spell?) shop. He didn~t understand me and finally left us alone. So, we finally got on the bus and got to our stop. The Policeman got off before us, and I darted away from him as quickly as I could. When I looked back to make sure Rachel was behind me, I inadvertently stepped right into someone~s pirated DVD loot that they had spread out on a blanket. This big man with a cigarette yelled at me to stop. So I did, and when I realized where I was I had no time to change my course. The big cigaretted guy just came and grabbed me from the middle of his pile in a bear hug, got me off his stuff and put me back down. He was obviously amused by his strength. I was laughing and choked out Descupla!! and ran away toward Rachel. (I would use quotation marks for this story, except that I can~t find them, nor the apostrophe key, because I~m on a Brasilian keyboard and it~s different.)

At least we got away from The Policeman.

So that is it for now. I still need to write about Iguaçu. Dang. Just prepare for me to be telling everyone that you HAVE to go there!

First Stop

2008-12-16T16:07:00.000-08:00

we arrived at Iguaçu safe and sound yesterday afternoon. this place is as different as night and day from Brasilia. for starters, the Portuguese is not only spoken with a few different pronunciations, it is shared with Spanish. this is because we are in Argentina~s back yard. every other person speaks something different, or a mix of both. i kinda like it, since i can pull vocab from both languages and manage to put together a sentence. it gets confusing, though, and since my language is already pretty screwey, it is now just a disaster. blah.

the first thing we did after checking into our hostel, which, by the way, is beautiful, is set off in search of food. i was starving and therefore cranky, and we could find nothing. every place we tried was closed or not cooking for some reason. finally, Rachel noticed a little counter poking out of a run down looking building. we stumbled in and discovered an outdoor pool hall filled with rusty old men drinking cerveza. a younger guy in dreadlocks ran over and we asked if he had any food. he said no, but that he could make us some cheese burgers for three haies (this isn~t spelled right, but the Spanish issue is messing me up and i can~t sound it out for the life of me). Brasilian burgers have much to be desired but since starvation was the alternative, we took him up on it. turns out they were the best dang food we have ordered. loved them. and loved the little bar. we watched the grandpas play pool for a while, it was pretty intense.

we went to Foz do Iguaçu today. it was the most breathtaking thing we have either ever seen. prepare for some sweet footage.

Charmed

2008-12-14T16:10:00.000-08:00

we've so far experienced Brazil through the friendships of 5 amazing people. almost as soon as we arrived here, we were swept into a circle of very close, long-time friends that we have grown to love. Fernando and Gabriela, Érico, Taíza, and Mindú. you've seen lots of pictures and read stories, and i wish you could come to dinner with all of us one night to really experience them.

they take care of each other. they communicate with ease in their words and big gestures and touch. they live side by side with full expectation that they will all be around for a long time. i love how they express fondness for each other just as easily as they brazenly chasten. not much seems to offend, probably because all are confident in their good relationships.

everything is topped with their physical comfort with one another. i love seeing Fernando and Mindu greet each other after a day apart as if they were long-lost friends, Érico kiss his sister Taíza in greeting, Gabi scolding Mindu for who-knows-what as she concurrently has her arm draped around his shoulder. Taíza and Gabi both grab my hand when they are telling me something important. one night at dinner, Érico and his married sister Tainà were sitting side by side. they were in separate conversations, and i saw Érico naturally reach over and rest his hand on Tainà's newly swelling, pregnant belly. it was beatiful. i wish i had a picture.

while my brother is very loving himself with words, he's only kissed me once. it was a long time ago. we were arguing about something, and i remember telling him to "kiss my butt." so, he grabbed my face and kissed me on the forehead. i have to admit, it was very funny.

(Myles--i'm totally not saying you get to kiss me hello now.)

we met our friends due to a chance encounter at institute (religion class) one of the first nights after we arrived here. there we met Taíza, and were very relieved that she spoke English. we immediately loved her. that one little meeting has made all the difference for us here in Brazil, as we were then introduced to the rest of the group. we have been to their homes and met parents and grandparents and looked at pictures and tasted new food. we've been taken all over the area on little adventures. they've included us in their circle and taken care of us as well. Rachel and i are contstantly amazed at the luck we've had here. we are so grateful to them!

we love our Brasilians. we'll miss you!

Hi Mare

2008-12-14T09:02:00.000-08:00

This picture makes me think of Mary Ann.

The Yard

2008-12-14T08:10:00.000-08:00

Cara and Randy have a some pretty sweet fruit trees in their yard: lemon, papaya, starfruit, banana, cashew fruit, orange, mango, and avocado. can you imagine the dreamland that is the backyard full of mangoes and avocados? here are some pics of the yard, house, and lemonade.

so far, every Brasilian yard i've seen has a hammock or two. usually matching.

it's a mystery to me how Brasilia has all in the same soil pine trees, palm trees, and cacti. but, behold.

Cara's pretty painted windows.

the house

manga

banana

avocado

orange

trees trees trees

backyard

Sunday Dinner at Gab's

2008-12-14T07:52:00.000-08:00

This is feijoada (fay zho aa da), the national dish of Brazil. It's pork and black bean stew served with rice. Yum! We had it at Gabi's grandmother's home. Everyone there said it is good we had our first feijoada there, because her grandma makes the best.

Last Day

2008-12-13T21:51:00.000-08:00

at the school. so sad.
here are my lovelies. Luiza was absent Friday for a birthday party. hmmm.

Lucas and Vinicius

José and Victór

afterwards, Miss Denise took Rach and i out for Brasilian Tapioca. Tapioca is a thing made from the raw tapioca flour, into a tortilla sort of thing. it is filled with meat, cheese, eggs, bananas, creme de leite, sweetness on and on. it's the flourescently bright thing there on the plates. in the bowl are biscoitos. cookies.

we both look like we're 5 in these.

Miss Denise, in her true teacher fashion, did not let us only taste tapioca, but asked for us to see it being made in the kitchen. then, she bought us tapioca ice cream. this was like a cold form of the pudding. yum.

i will really miss the kids. especially Lucas i think.

No Winter Wonderland

2008-12-13T21:43:00.000-08:00

i really have no appetite for Christmas music. it's because it's too hot. i tried listening to Wintersong by Sarah the other day while waiting for a bus, but the sweat rolling down my back killed it for me.

however, the fifth grade put on an excellent Christmas play last week. it was good because the auditorium was dark inside so i forgot about the blaring sun and could enjoy the seasonal music.

here is a little song and dance for you.

and check the too-cute little embrace. i love Brasilians.

Girls' Night Out

2008-12-13T21:38:00.000-08:00

with Cara. we went to the cutest little empanada restaurant. i notice restaurants where the servers are patient with very-beginning Portuguese. this was a good one. and let me tell you, coconut empanadas are heavenly.

Around Brasilia

2008-12-13T21:02:00.000-08:00

Fotos Tororó

2008-12-11T17:40:00.000-08:00

we like waterfalls here in Brazil

getting ready for the hike into the waterfall

here are our autumn leaves! actually, this area has recently been burnt. there are flowers that grow here that only grow after a fire.

it was beautiful

awww

Rach was very impressed that no one fell off the slimy rocks

i think this picture is very funny

this was a process, but Érico managed to drag me underneath the waterfall. it was loud.

check the storm clouds. we hit it just in time.

thanks to Fernando, as always, for the fab pictures.

The Trip

2008-12-09T13:46:00.000-08:00

i've lately been pouring pictures and last-minute stories onto the blog. it's because i need to get our Brasilia life all journaled-up before we head off on our next excursion. on monday at 5am we leave for a four-week adventure around some of the south of Brazil. with backpacks only. oh, and some malaria pills and peanut butter that we very happily found today at some wal-mart-esque store.

here is where we're going.

1st: Iguaçu Falls.

2nd: Curitiba (Curichiba) to go here

3rd: Florianopolis, a beautiful little island off the coast

4th: Rio de Janeiro

5th: Cabo Frio, where we are meeting Gab and Fernando and fams
6th: back to Rio to get Chad, then back to Cabo Frio
7th: Copacabana. Look, here's Rach!

8th: Denver, maybe like this

Tuesday Thanksgiving

2008-12-08T05:12:00.000-08:00

our best Thanksgiving was the one with our Brasilians.

Some of my favorite phrases--

Gabi: "things look good, and then you start adding stuff to it and everything just gets weird."
Taiza: "i will be sick if i eat that."
Erico: "it smells like an American house in here!"
Patu: "i'm carving the turkey, i'm carving the turkey!"
and Mindu ate enough Thanksgiving to equal an American man getting ready for some football.

everyone tried everything but the yams. i tried them first and they were really gross so i let them out of that. except, i think that was the only dish Gabi actually liked, and Taiza ate all the marshmallows off the top.

it was great.

From Scratch Scratch Scratch

2008-12-07T14:35:00.000-08:00

i love to cook, and here during my two months so far of having zero responsibility in Brasilia, i've finally had time. in order to get some of the things i'm used to back home, i've had to do a lot of it from scratch.

for instance, i am now a master at making stewed tomatoes.

the biggest from scratch project was preparing pumpkin. i had to do it twice, and hopefully never again.

first, you get the meat man at the grocery story to cut up the pumpkins for you. hopefully you speak enough Portuguese to at least say, Please, Cut, Can you, Half, Thank You Thank You Thank You.

there are three kinds of pumpkin (abobora--great word) that i've found. green-skinned, which has the best flavor, squatty orange, which are fine, and long skinny ones, which are gross. one of the pics below shows all three.

next, you bake them all flesh-side down in the oven at 325 degrees for an hour and a half. do this on a semi-cool day, because otherwise your Brasilian kitchen is going to be toasty. at least do it in the morning so that your bedroom, which is right next to the kitchen, doesn't get the punishment. all of these good things i've learned.

once they're soft and yummy, you scrape all the flesh out and puree still smooth and creamy. Next, put all pumpkin in coffee filters. it sits like this for at least four hours for all the water to drain. it's surprising how much soaks off.

then, you have it! i have to say, it is quite satisfying to really make things from the ground up. i'm like just a bonnet and 6 babies shy of a pioneer.

Thursday Thanksgiving

2008-12-07T13:21:00.000-08:00

we had a very traditional Thanksgiving with the fam at another Embassy family's house.

notice Rachel's Thanksgiving turkey feather earrings.

Wednesday Thanksgiving

2008-12-05T19:32:00.001-08:00

at the EAB.

the kids helping to prepare all the food:

cleaning the fish

José making the zucchini bread

Vinicius prepping the chicken

this is the woman who thought i spoke Portuguese

our Brazilian/American Thanksgiving menu:

mashed potatoes and gravy

corn

zucchini bread

pancakes

big pumpkin pie made by me

cream for the pumpkin pie. i failed to mention it was supposed to be whipped.

your guess is as good as mine

BBQ
Coke

juice, which is on every Brasilian table
rice

salad

fish

and, thanks to José's maid who doesn't mind cooking big things up last-second, turkey

Victór and José eating too soon! BTW, José is pronounced "jghosay", so don't say it in your head with an H at the beginning.

saying thanks around the table

the crew
and, my favorite, Lucas trying my pumpkin pie. most of the Brasilians thought it looked really gross and weird, so they wouldn't eat it. but the ones who were brave and bucked up loved it. so did the teachers. they better have--it was from scratch scratch scratch.

Escola Americana de Brasilia

2008-12-05T18:28:00.000-08:00

Or, The American School of Brasilia. Rachel and i have been volunteering here during our stay.

this school is unlike any one i've seen. before we started working at the school, we had an "interview" with the headmaster. he gave us some basic facts: it's a K-12 private, non-profit school that has been around as long as Brasilia. it serves the U.S. Embassy, though its population is 60% Brasilian. students from many other countries also attend. the registration fee is a mere $5,000. i don't even want to know what tuition is. that said, the 60% Brasilian population comes from Brasilia's elite. and accomplished. the school is quite difficult to get into, and one's English must be excellent by eighth grade to hack it. all classes are taught in English, except for Portuguese social studies and Portuguese. the school teaches on three systems leading to separate diplomas: American (which is the easiest), Brasilian (quite heavy) and International Baccalaureate. beginning this year, a new program has been introduced. the children of the maintenance workers are invited to attend the school for free. i'll talk more about the education system and the relationship to social class of Brazil later. for now, understand that this affords children of poor families an incredibly rare opportunity.

here is a map of countries represented

after our interview, we took a tour of the campus. i was blown away by class size (student teacher ratio: 7:1), the classroom assistants, the art on the walls, the gym, the soccer fields, the slides and swings, the systemic order, the music rooms, the auditorium.

we walked into said auditorium and came upon an assembly rehearsal. a row of students was on stage, wearing ridiculous animal hats. teachers were directing a hord of other kids in a little skit. sound technicians were checking equipment.

right there, in front of all those kids and headmaster, i started bawling.

i wasn't crying for the pitiful kids dressed as zebras. i was overwhelmed by the plentitude of resources i realized with sickness that my Philadelphia students will never have. resources that are so beneficial not only to formative education, but also to childhood happiness. and pleasure. like playgrounds.

the headmaster suggested i put my sunglasses on for the rest of the tour.

so, we spend a lot of time at the school. Rachel works with a child on physical therapy. i work with 5 ESL fifth graders--three of whom are maintenance crew staff. they wake up each morning at 4am to ride into school and help their parents before the rest of the student body arrives. one of them lives down the street from us now, in the biggest house anyone i've ever know has lived in. my kids' names are: Luiza, Lucas, Vinicius, Victór, and José. they are beautiful and i love them.

José is likely my favorite thing in this world. his energy is insane. he speaks so quickly that he spits out his English tied up in knots at my feet. he is impatient with his vocabulary and resorts to drawing pictures on the board to explain himself.

and so it is that my favorite part of this vacation has been working with my 5 Brasilians. this coming week is my last with them, and i am very sad to think of saying goodbye.

Rachel and Jacob. J has quite the crush on Rach. His mother recently told her that he has a "thing" for blonde girls.

look at this diligent paperwork complete-er!

here are mine. can you handle the cuteness? this was at an assembly. front to back: Lucas, Vinicius, Luiza, José and Victór.

Raquel and Hech

2008-12-05T18:22:00.000-08:00

"Rachel" translates well into Portuguese: Raquel. "Heather" on the other hand, is a different story. Brasilians have a very difficult time pronouncing it. i'm constantly repeating it to embarrassed listeners. i used to spell it, then realized that just made things worse. i'm thinking of giving myself a new name. ideas?

once, i was introduced in Relief Society as "Hech". it was awesome.

The Girls

2008-12-05T18:20:00.000-08:00

Can't Escape McDonalds

2008-12-05T18:14:00.000-08:00

it's just as busy as you'd expect.

right next door, same time and place: Brazil's version of McDonalds, Giraffas. still, not cutting the competition.

mistaken

2008-12-03T17:19:00.000-08:00

last week i helped prepare Thanksgiving dinner at the school we volunteer for. i was cutting tomatoes, and a woman i didn't know asked me if i wanted a cutting board. i didn't repond immediately, and then she repeated the question to me in Portuguese.

i was pleased.

blast

2008-12-02T15:48:00.000-08:00

third watch down. i'm going through watches faster than i go through cell phones.

Alert

2008-11-30T13:38:00.001-08:00

a couple of nights ago, Rach and i decided we were sick of the brasilian food we tried to make ourselves, so we went out to get crepes. our fav crepe place is in a mall not too far from our house. as we walked in the mall, Rachel commented, "sometimes when we sit in the house all day watching Gilmore Girls, i forget that when i go outside, i am going into a Portuguese-speaking world and i won't know anything that is going on." i agreed (Gilmore Girls is really messing up our perception) and we decided that even though we still don't understand anything, at least we expect it and don't feel weird about it anymore.

so we go up to the crepe counter and start ordering. we've done it a couple of times at this place, so it shouldn't be that hard. Rach ordered some pepperoni-cheese extravaganza and i ordered a yummy chicken-corn salad with some sort of crunchy-thing crepe. we noticed before we paid that there was a little side of a dessert crepe you could order for only R$3.90 (~$2). good deal. so, we thought we ordered a chocolate strawberry (morengo e chocolate) dessert crepe to go along. the order girl went back and forth with us a couple of times, making sure our order was right. we appreciated her double-checking since, you know, our Portuguese is sketchy. we sat down to wait for our order, pleased. i said, "we are really getting better at least with the simple things."

a couple minutes later a girl brings out the crepes. mine was a big thing covered in strawberry syrup with a couple scoops of chocolate ice cream. Rach asks where my meal crepe is. i say that surely it is coming, maybe they had to make the salad so they brought the ice cream out first so it wouldn't melt. and, by they way, did i order ice cream? Rachel, unconvinced, turns the crepe around with bad news. the chicken salad crepe was what was infront of me, just topped with dessert. actually, covered in the dessert.

so we're not quite as good at the simple things as we'd given ourselves credit for.

we've got a ways to go.

by the way, the strawberry sauce-covered chicken corn salad crepe wasn't too bad. i just pretended it was strawberry chicken from the Blue Bird in Logan. the chocolate ice cream melted in sort of killed it, though.

speaking of the Gilmore Girls, watching it makes us crave all this American junk food. list below. most of these things would make me gag in real life.

macaroni and cheese
real American cheeseburger
chili cheese fries
pop tarts
licorice
mallow mars
marshmallows
pancakes and eggs (all of the time)
omelets
butter nut squash soup (i could actually make this, but am sick of dealing with squash, as will be understood from a post forthcoming)
lots of pizza
chocolate muffin
chocolate chips
chocolate in general

Drenched

2008-11-29T06:27:00.000-08:00

It's the rainy season here in Brazil.

Procrastination

2008-11-24T14:40:00.001-08:00

I am starting to lose my good habits of blogging. I can already feel it, and I've only been a consistent blogger for about a month.

I keep putting it off because there are so many things that I need to post, that I think too much about what's next instead of just doing it. The times I can actually wait for things to load are pretty few and far between as well, since the computer I use is shared by many.

But a few things from lately: I accidentally contributed to Brazilian crime today, as my friends Fernando and Gabi made sure I was aware. I needed yet another watch because the last one I bought at the Paraguayan market stopped working after being immersed in water one too many times. When I told this to Taiza, she had no sympathy and chastised me for thinking I could by any sort of electronic item in Brazil. She said that everyone knows you get these kinds of things in the States. Today, Rach and I took a new route downtown and walked by this little old man selling watches. I had no intention of buying but peeked just because, well, ya never know. I found one that was obviously used, but it was sort of cute, looked like it worked, said it was water proof, and was only ten reais. So, I got it. Rachel said it was probably stolen, but I could feel good about it because the money would probably feed the man dinner. Later, Gabi and Fernando were both quite stern about how not good it was to buy anything from little old men on the street, even cute and hungry-looking ones, because it was supporting theft and enabling the problem.

After buying the watch, I hurried and washed it to get the second-hand grime off. I was doing this happily thinking I could soak it and it would be fine because it is water resistant. Well, it is obviously not water-proof, as the face has been foggy ever since.

I just can't win!

We watched our first Brazilian futebol game last night with Erico and Mindu, both of whom are quite fanatics about the Flamencos. Anyone know of this team?

We had stake conference this past Sunday, and it was really nice to be there. We sat toward the back (when do you ever sit anywhere else for stake conference?) and I liked seeing the sea of dark hair. Excepting, of course Rachel and the occiasional fake blonde. I wish I could adequately describe the social mannerisms of the Brasilians. I love watching them. They are so full of open affection for each other. Best displayed in big groups. Elder Didier and his wife came, and I tried to listen for Elder Didier's French accent in his Portuguese. He definitely sounded more like a true speaker than the Americans do. Despite his great accent, I lost concentration about halfway through and ended up playing dots with Erico and having him point out to me what kinds of girls are pretty in Brazil. Rachel, however, got a lot out of the conference because she is more attentive to spiritual things in general, and she is getting really good and detecting Portuguese words in church like, Yes, no, and very good. She actually is quite good and understanding phrases, which is helpful to both of us. For once, I am not the one doing all the talking.

On the way home, I drove for my first time in Brazil and got a ticket. Blast. What are the odds? There is basically no speed limit enforcement here, except at the one place I happened to go through a bit too fast. I hope the ticket arrives before I leave so that I can keep it.

We are both starting to look for jobs for when we have to come back and start our real lives again. Keep us in mind if you see anything you think we'd like!

Social Graces

2008-11-21T04:52:00.000-08:00

here in Brazil, the simple kiss given to say hello can be complex. while merely a greeting, there are rules behind it that are important to understand.

i learned this during our first week here in Brasilia. we went to a show at a club with Taiza, whom we'd met at institute. there we met her brother, Erico, who'd taught us Sunday school a few days before, and then all of his friends, who are now ours. in greeting Erico, he kissed us each on one cheek and gave a hug. then we were introduced to the drummer of the band we were there to see. the greeting with him was quite different. at first i just kissed him on one cheek. after that there was this weird awkwardness as this very tall man was obviously doing something different than i was doing. i realized he was going in for the other cheek, but since i was expecting Erico-style, i was confused. so, the tall guy snippet-kissed me on the other cheek, and suddenly people around us were chuckling. i am socially astute enough to at least know i'd left something out, so in effort to not be rude i kissed him back. except somehow it didn't end up being the cute little greeting kiss, but a full fleged kiss (on the cheek). right after that he got a weird look on his face and went immediately over to his girlfriend and grabbed her hand. it was embarrassing. rachel and i seriously laughed in the corner by ourselves for about five minutes. i blame it on the techno blasting in my ear, the strobe light, and the height.

here is a pic of all of us from that night. L-R: the drummer and girlfriend, Gabi, Fernando, Erico, Taiza, Mindu, me, Rach.

so here is what was going on. since i'd already met Erico, his greeting was a one kiss and a hug. upon meeting someone new, the greeting is the two snippet kisses on either cheek. i've noticed that greeting someone's mother also involves the two kisses, no matter how well you already know them. which i like, because moms are always cute.

i really like the kissing-greetings of most of the rest of the world besides the U.S. Cami and i started discussing the issues around this a couple years ago after watching the movie, Keeping the Faith. in it, friends greeted each other with kisses. it was not big deal, and we liked it. Cam served her mission in the Netherlands, so she got accustomed to kissing as well, though there one is greeted with three kisses on alternate cheeks. we decided that even though we liked it, we couldn't really keep up such a custom here, likely because such things seem to freak out Mormon boys. they tend to get the wrong idea about one's intentions when physical interaction occurs. probably because it is just not common enough.

no offense to all of my Mormon guy friends. but you have to admit that i am right.

case in point: one time a friend of mine and i decided we would defy our own cultural customs and kiss-greet each other. this friend served his mission somewhere in South America and is a pretty reasonable, astute person. he basically knows what is meant behind such actions. so, for a while we would give the quick cheek kiss when we'd say good-bye or hello. it was cool. eventually i started dating someone. one night as we were saying bye, my friend stiffened and said, "Uh, do you think the new boyfriend would appreciate it if he knew you were kissing another guy?"

it was then that i realized that ya just can't kiss-greet in the States with out it being taken the wrong way. sigh.

here are some other pics from that night:

Come-a-what?

2008-11-17T22:00:00.000-08:00

this video is dedicated to Juan Perez, Dugway High School mid-nineties. Yeah Baby!

along with teaching me the words to this song, Juan played a few other vital roles in my growing up.

the night i got my driver's license, i took my very own car, a 1978 red Ford Torino (sweet) to our town's Teen Center. i was scared about backing out in front of people, so two of my friends, Laura Dawn and Camilla, and i left fifteen minutes before the TC closed so that no one would see. well, my wish for inconspicuousness failed as i flooded the engine and got the car stuck in the middle of the parking lot so that no one get out. i remember Lar and Cam and i in a panic, trying to push the boat, as everyone started spilling out of the building at 11. Juan got control of the situation as he told me to put the car in neutral and pushed me home with his mom's mini-van. the rest of the TC peeps were running along side of the car holding on to the the open doors on each side. LD and Cam and i were all on the bench seat stifling hysterical laughter. my dad was very amused when i got home and told him i'd already ruined the car and a mini-van had to push me home.

fast forward a few years to my freshman year at USU, springtime. one day, The Boy I Loved came to me and said that some girl had just told him she had feelings for him, wanted to be his girlfriend, and he asked if i had anything to say about that. i said No. later that night Juan came over to visit Mary Ann and I after he got off work at Matrix. we used to sit around talking on our used couch in our little Bridgerland apartment until odd hours of the night. when i told him the news of the day, Juan was horrified at my sissy-ness and he kicked my butt out the door in the middle of the night to go and tell The Boy how i really felt.
it was a good night.

here is a picture of a car just like mine. it was voted the ugliest car in the school. but it didn't matter, because man could we pack a lot of people in there!

Update

2008-11-17T06:24:00.000-08:00

I need a serious update on The Office.

Anyone?

How did Angela break up with Andy? Is Pam falling for some guy in NYC and screwing up her thing with Jim? Did Jan's baby end up looking like Michael? I haven't seen anything since the Thursday before October 14. I don't mind knowing the end of things before I watch them, so you aren't going to blow anything for me.

Kaylee? Tiff? Stanley? Kyle? Meg? Info!

no one appreciates my taste in sunglasses.

2008-11-14T05:23:00.001-08:00

they were kidding, i was not.

more evidence, this note from a friend who i once bought some sweet sunglasses for:

"You will be pleased to know that I plan on using your sunglasses tonight for Halloween. Or maybe you will be angry to think I am using them for Halloween, and not for everyday use. I am going as Kever Federline, or something like that. I'll post a pic on facebook."

such a shame, such a shame.

A Few Sights Around Brasilia

2008-11-10T15:57:00.000-08:00

pretty flowers everywhere.

this is a fruit called Açai, made into a sort of pudding. it comes from palm trees, or from the center of palm trees, or from plants that grow by palm trees, something. it's a very new taste. the teacher i help, Miss Denise (pronounced Denizee), brought me some the other day to class. true to the form of a multiple-intelligence teacher, she not only gave it to me to eat, she wrote the word and pronunciation on the board, and then looked up some facts on Wikipedia about the fruit. i obviously didn't read the article she brought up, 'else i'd be able to tell you more about this interesting little gritty purple thing. don't tell her.
here it is with granola.

bridges are my favorite architectural structures. this is seriously the most beautiful i've ever seen. more pics to come of this, as soon as we ride our bikes there to take some.

futbol at the school. the principal asked us to watch third grade recess to see if we could figure out why the kids were fighting. then she suggested we give the teachers some tips on discipline. yeah, right. the last thing i'd ever do is come prancing in to a new school and tell the teachers how to keep their kids in check. that is like going into a woman's kitchen and telling here where to put the dishes. you just don't do it.

payphone. these are everywhere, residential and commercial streets. kind of like Starbucks in the States, but cheaper.

Gabi and her lovely mother.

strong opinions of foreign leaders.

street entertainment.

check all the kinds of mangoes!

Romeo and Juliet

2008-11-10T15:50:00.000-08:00

we recently attended the Romeo and Juliet Ballet. not sure who put it on, a Brazilian national dance theater group of some sort with kids.

it actually wasn't that great. but it's easier to understand Shakespearean dance than it is Portuguese, so that was nice.

the best was the Latin flair to some of the costumes.

Cara, me, Rach, Gab

Earrings

2008-11-10T15:09:00.000-08:00

(picture forthcoming. we decided the original is gross.)

here are Rach and I with our new earrings we found in a little shop downtown one day after visiting Gab at work. these are worth mentioning because shopping for them involved an important lesson on Brazilian culture.

one day, we were with Gabi visiting the Paraguayan Market and we found these sweet hoop earrings that we both liked. they were on the big side. Gabi sternly informed us that we could only buy and wear such earrings if we were planning on implying that we were not interested in our chastity. whoa. okay. so we passed on the earrings. such little Brazilian between-the-lines facts are important for us to know.

another way one could imply they were interested in being more than just friends with a guy is waving at them. yeah, that's right. waving.

again, we were with Gabi. the three of us had been swimming at a lake and as we were leaving i noticed three guys also heading out. when we were pulling off in the car, i saw that they were watching us, so i just gave them a little wave. not even like a flirtatious wave; merely one that acknowledged that i saw three guys staring at three girls. it just seemed socially appropriate.

little did i know the gesture is a green light.

Gabi said, "Heather, did you wave at them?"

"yeah."

"oh great. here we go."

then ensued a game of bumper cars/chase/please-let-me-swerve-around-on-the-road-to-show-the-girls-how-cool-we-are game. i guess this is the way two parties meet up and exchange digits. luckily Gabi kept her cool and it ended without incident and without any phone numbers given out. as if i knew my phone number, anyway.

so, i'm not too pleased with the fact that left to my own devices, i could be a Brazilian hooch. luckily Gabi is around to keep everyone in line.