part 32

Things that keep Melissa alive

Part 32: the funny (part 2)


There's a lot of different kinds of funny, I find.  I talked about funny books already.  But what about funny internet?  Or funny tv?  I rediscovered Jay Leno's Headlines yesterday.  They are both!  I might have had a hard time stifling my guffaws in my office.  There was lots of coughing... and clearing my throat.  Here's a sampling:

Does constipation make you deaf?

 Makes the colonoscopy all worth it

 Well NOW you have my attention!

 I hope they ate it before the cement hardened!

I like it when the weather channel tells me how I should feel

 There you have them.  If you're ever bored with lots of internet to spare, might I recommend heading over to Jay Leno's site and checking out the headlines!  Nothing like laughing at other people's mistakes to keep you alive.

part 31

Things that keep Melissa alive


Part 31: Hope


I don’t often get preachy on here but I’ve been studying hope lately and it has made me re-evaluate what it is that I hope for.

It’s important that “we overcome the temptation to lose hope,” as Elder Uchdorf said in his talk, The Infinite Power of Hope. So here’s my question: Why would we be tempted to lose hope?  It just doesn’t make sense. I mean, I understand why Satan would want us to be miserable, but why would we be tempted to be miserable? That’s just crazy. But yet, sometimes I actually am tempted to lose hope. And every time I do I think:  how stupid am I?!

My whole life, I’ve thought that there was no need to panic about marriage until I reach the 31 and beyond years.  So I didn’t.  I always reassured myself with things like: “It’s ok that I’m not dating anyone... I’m not 31 yet.”.  or “My older brother is still not married, the pressure is off!”.

But now that I’m actually 32, I realized that I’m supposed to start panicking. So I do - at really random moments.  This led to actually studying what it means to have hope.  And now that my hope of marriage before 31 has trundled on by, I realize that was probably not the best hope to have.  But I have still tried to replace it with other reasons why not getting married is totally fine right now:

• I want to marry someone young, so that means I have to be older when I marry, right?  But, the older I get makes me wonder: HOW young is my husband going to be?!
• I want to be financially established before I get married, anyway, so this is good....  but, what does that mean and is it ever going to happen?!
• I like to be able to travel the world anyway, so I’ll get lots of that in while I wait...Phoenix, here I come!  (Also, Lubbock and Cancun - I am a world traveler, afterall)

Sometimes I like to pretend that my husband is actually traveling with me. This is the two of us posing for silhouette pictures in south africa

• The longer I wait, the older and richer my relatives become who will be buying me wedding presents. I think this one explains its self.
• The longer I wait, the more accepting my mom will be of whoever I marry.  When she once said “Melissa, don’t marry an artist”, she now will say “he never graduated high school? Well, that’s totally fine these days!” 

I know these are not the best uses of hope in my situation, but these will hopefully keep me going until I develop true hope.

primary practice

Apparently I have not gotten married yet because I still need practice with handling children.  Specifically, other people's children.  I have already mentioned that I am the Bear Den leader in our building (it covers 2 wards).  But I am also a primary teacher.

I should probably count myself lucky that I am a primary teacher in the senior primary.  How do you begin to control a class room of 3 year olds?  Last year, I taught the 9-10 year olds.  This year, I am teaching the 8 year olds.  I'm finding out that one year makes a big difference.  But even with all the behavioral and reading differences, There are kids in each class that know more about the scriptures than I do.  I spend much of my time pretending to know what they are talking about just so I don't lose my credibility as a teacher.

Here are some of my favorite moments from last year:

• I asked the 2 kids in attendance if they could have anyone in the world over to their house who would they pick?  The first boy said David Archeletta.  The second boy named a girl that is in our class and then said... "yeah, I have a major crush on her"
• At a class party we played Telestrations.  One boy tried to draw "King Mosiah" and the 9 year old girl after him wrote as her guess: "Elijah and the priests of baal".  Another 9 year old girl after her then showed it to me and said: "I don't know what that is"; to which I said: "Neither do I".
• I use these alphabet cookies from Winco to create a word puzzle for my class every week.  After a few weeks of that, one boy saw me pull them out again and said "that's SO cool that you make those letter cookies for us every week".
• Towards the end of last year, my class gave me a run down of all their past teachers and where I rank among them. I'm proud to say that I was second best! 

I've only had 2 classes so far this year but I can tell this is going to be a good group for stories.  I already have some good ones.  I went from having 4 kids in a huge classroom to having 8 kids in a 4'x4' square.  All of the good stories so far have to do with one girl who is home schooled, very smart, and she knows it.

• The very first 5 minutes of our very first class, I hear Jenny (that is what I will call her because she reminds me a bit of my sister) say rather impatiently to the boy next to her "Santa Claus isn't real, he's just something that people pretend."  I have to admit, I don't think I've ever been present when someone else's faith in santa has been shaken.  That boy looked as scared as I probably did.  "He is TOO!" he yelled.  But Jenny responded "how does he get down the chimney? Do you really believe that?"  to which he responded "He comes in the door!".  It was definitely time to redirect....
• Two days ago, I asked another girl in the class to read a verse that had some hard words in it. I had to help her with about 40% of the words as she read.  All the 7 other kids were staring off into space, poking their neighbor or had dropped their scriptures on the floor by the time she finished.  Jenny then said rather loudly "Can I please read it so that everyone can actually understand it?".
• The next verse came along so I let Jenny read that one.  She lamented that it was so short and proceeded to rattle it off before any of the others had even begun turning there.  I then asked her if she would read it again so we could all listen this time.  She responded with "I have my slow, medium and fast voice.  That was my fast voice.  Which would you like?"  "Uh...medium, please..."

part 30 of 356

Things that keep Melissa alive

Part 30: The Funny


I love reading funny books.  And I love books that are autobiographical in nature because these seem to be the best forum for people to display their funny.  I don't read a lot of fantasy or science fiction because these seem to be the worst forum for authors to be funny.  Actually, it's more that they are a different kind of funny (aka, weird).

Every time I read a book that I feel is funny and clever at the same time, it makes me want to be a writer like that.  It's got to be easy, right?  My journal entries suddenly become more thought through.  I do everything I can to emulate the writing of these books in my blog, scouts and primary lessons.

I think my latest find has inspired me the most of any funny book I've read:

So many other books are supposedly funny but once I actually read them, I'm not impressed.  So here's my question:  Why can't other "funny" writers actually be funny like Tina Fey?  Right before I read this, I read David Sedaris' Christmas book.  Sometimes I do find him mildly funny, but I couldn't even make it through this latest one I read.  I found it too bitter and sarcastic.  Where's the funny, David?

It's true that Tina Fey's book isn't perfection -  It has waay too much swearing for my taste but the humor in it is a clean humor that made me cry on several occasions.

I dream of her writing a second, but what are the chances of that?  I guess I'll have to go back to the authors that are almost as inspiring like:

• Haven Kimmel
• Terry Tempest Williams
• Dave Barry

But I've already read most of their books!  So they better get cracking.

Here are some other modes of Funny that I like and you should try too, if you get the chance:

• Colbert Report
• Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me (NPR radio news quiz on every saturday and available for podcast)
• Wait, Wait Don't blog me - Sandwich Monday posts.  (I look forward to reading these posts every Monday.  Here is one of my favorites)

So now I need your help.  I really had lost to the joy of reading until I picked up Tina Fey's book.  So now what do I do?  I need to fill that large hole she left in the funny ventricle of my heart.  What are your favorite funny things/authors?  I need to get filling that void fast!

part 29 of 365

Things that keep Melissa alive

Part 29: someone to care for

I know you have a hard time being shocked by this, but I have discovered that I'm a little like a man.  I like to solve people's problems.  It's hard for me to listen to someone's problem and just sympathize.  I want to fix it!  I guess I like having someone to take care of.  Enter Snakey.

Remember the small lizard I had for approximately one week before the parenting anxiety became too much for me and had to return him to the wild?  He was just a warm up for the small snake that I obtained in July this year.  Much baby-snake talking has commenced since then.  I wonder if that ever stops...  Will I still be speaking to him in high, squeaky tones when he's in college?  Will he still cuddle on my lap when he's married?  I guess we can only wait and see.

I'm like most parents in that I think he is more cute than the neighbor's snakes.  And he's not nearly as whiny in the grocery store.

But, I realized this week that I have officially become one of those annoying pet owners that tell you the most boring stories about their beloved pet.  I have even started dreaming about him.  And these dreams may reveal a little too much about how dear he actually is to me.  The other night I had several dreams about him:  That he was grown-up and moved away from home.  That he actually spoke to me and thanked me for taking care of him (seriously).  Do I really secretly wish that he was grateful for everything I do for him?

When I really think about it, I'm pretty sure all that time that he spends "exploring and playing" in his cage is actually him trying to get away from this crazy lady that is holding him hostage and doesn't feed him nearly enough and stares at him creepily through the glass.  I guess I should be glad that he can't actually speak, because I can continue on in my fairy-pretend land where my snake loves me.  And that keeps me alive.

is you a girl

I don't have a good sense of time but I believe I have had my hair grown to at least chin length for around 2 years now, maybe more?  I keep thinking that instances that people mistake me for a boy will start to lessen.  But no.  So, welcome back to another installment of "melissa gets mistaken for a boy".

A few weeks ago, my roommate and I decided to crash the mid-singles ward fhe west of the freeway.  They were playing missionary tag but I think it should have been called dating tag or divorce tag or older couple missionary tag because in the rules it says that only a girl and guy can stand together.  Not two girls or two guys.  That must have been the first problem.  So coed groups of two stand around the field as one boy and girl chase each other.  The one being chased has a goal of hooking onto a coed couple on the arm of the one that is the opposite gender from them.  So if I were being chased, I would grab the arm of a guy that is already in a couple and then the girl that is attached to the other side of him would have to take off running and latch on to some other guy's arm (man, as I describe this it is just sounding more and more like it should be called affair tag).  If someone accidentally latches onto someone of the same gender they are automatically it and they have to start chasing whoever was previously chasing them.

After about 5 people had taken their turn being chased around, this girl ran up to me and latched onto my arm. I leaned over to her and mumbled "I'm not a boy".  And then in my mind I yelled "COME ON!"  It took her a minute of looking at me to realize that I was indeed not a boy.

People aren't the only ones mistaking me for a boy.  Apparently, even digitally I look like a boy.  What better proof can I have than from the machine?  For the second experience I point you to my friend Jeff's blog about google image searches.  I decided to try uploading a picture of me and of course the first image returned was the above picture of Brad Pitt.  The good news is that I look like a boy but I'm a good-looking boy.   Maybe I should stop combing my hair like that though.

I have learned my lesson from these experiences.  The main lesson being that a detailed analysis can make missionary tag offensive on so many different levels.

part 28 of 365

Things that keep Melissa alive

Part 28: Cheap houses


That's right, at the age of 32, I am finally nearing the final approach to the penultimate of being an adult:  Owning my own place.  You notice that I say 'nearing the final approach'.  I don't actually know if I'm really in the final approach because I just started looking, and let me tell you, it might take me a while to find exactly what I want.

Don't get me wrong, I have found plenty of houses that I like the inside of - but not the outside.  And plenty that are great outside and then horrible inside.  There have even been two that had the best of both worlds for me.  But one sold before I could even go look at the place and the other one is in Provo (need I say more...).  The best part is that since my price range is so low, I routinely come across houses that I'm not really positive actually pass for houses.  And some probably really are houses, but you'd never know it from their pictures.

Speaking of that, what is the deal with the pictures people take?  Do they not realize that the very success of the sale begins with the pictures?  I was browsing houses online this morning and copied a few of my favorite pics to show you:

Good news: Apparently this house has a floor - and it's some sort of wood substance.  Also, I hope they leave the existing curtains for me! 

This one I just like because they must have known me and my style.  This kitchen area makes me happy on so many levels.

extra bonus:  This house is in my current ward!  It was meant for me.

This house looks nice... to live next to.  That's right, this is some other house on the street.  What better way to sell your house than to deflect attention from it and focus on the others around?  (maybe these guys are smarter than I originally thought)

Apparently, this house comes with a computer and desk!  Either that, or they wanted to get a close-up of the nice paint job on the walls.

I may never find my dream roof to put over my head, but at least the searching process will keep me entertained until I do.  And that keeps me alive.

3 confessions to the spider

Dear spiders,
I know that you know how much I dislike you.  I think I have made myself very clear.  I arranged for our place to be sprayed to kill you.  I smoosh even the cutest baby spider on contact.  I will sometimes yell at you out of anger when you surprise me.  But I must confess a few instances where I have held off on my killing quest.

1 - Spiders that live in my tomato plants:  I spend quite a bit of time lately trying pick all my tiny tomatoes.  Sometimes, as I am picking, I will see that you have built your web close to the ground around some beautifully red tomatoes.  In such a case, I leave you be.  I don't really need those tomatoes, I think.  I am even so kind that if I am picking a beautiful tomato higher up and it falls to the ground beneath a shroud of tomato green, I will let it go - cause it's gone.  It is just not worth it to me to stick my hand into such a place.  I've seen enough episodes of the Deadly Dozen to know not to do that.

2 - Dear spider that is taking over the 4th step outside my door: I don't know why I have let you continue to expand your web across my stairwell.  I have seen you jump back into the corner of your web when I step outside and slam my door behind me.  I'm sorry to disappoint you, as you probably thought you were successfully hiding from me.  Be assured that I know you are there.  I also suspect that you are black widow.  You are different from the spiders that enter my house.  You stay in your web and you are jet black and spindly.  Maybe I left you because I wasn't sure how best to kill you.  Or maybe I figured you would meet your end when the spider spray man waved his wand at you.  And sure enough, ever since then, your web has been empty.  RIP, little one.

3 - To the basketball playing spider:  I wish you had just stayed in Australia where you belong.  What are the chances that you would be on the very pair of basketball shorts that I picked up at the athletic store yesterday?  I saw you quickly and put the shorts back but then had to take a closer look at you to see if you were a black widow.  But your red was a stripe on top of your abdomen instead of an hourglass shape on the underside.  I am ashamed to say that I left you there on that pair of shorts on the rack for the next unsuspecting person to find.  When I discovered that you are a poisonous spider in Australia, I called the store to let them know what I had seen.  The girl responded with: "what do you want me to do about it?".  I should warn you that they may be coming for you - but it doesn't seem likely.

part 27 of 365

Things that keep Melissa alive

Part 27:  The Style Fail

Welcome back to what I like to call the: 'Melissa has time to blog at work era'.  Today's topic is something I always secretly wanted when I was a little girl but now that I have it, I don't know how to handle it.  You may have figured out by now that I have been called as a Den Leader in my ward.  When I was 5-10 years old and had 3 older brothers all in scouts, I just knew I would look amazing and cool in a scout shirt... if only I could have one.  Basically, I was picturing the above picture.  Doesn't she look super cute?  To be fair to myself, I don't own a scout hat yet but let me tell you, things are not looking promising.

I was actually called back in March but it took me a while to get my shirt because I wanted one of the really really cute yellow ones.  It turns out they just discontinued those so I couldn't find one smaller than a size 52 (yeah, I don't know either) so I had to just settle for a really cute tan one.  I got word about a month ago that there was going to be a cub scout leader pow wow at the end of August and in the instructions, it said I needed to wear my uniform because some of the classes were going to be in the chapel.  That's when I finally knuckled down and bought their smallest shirt that came just in time for me to wear it.

I don't think I can adequately describe my disappointment when I put it on and realized that I look superbly lame in it.  No problem, I thought, I can just put on my army pants and army belt and tuck in the shirt and that will solve everything!  But, do you see how the ladies above look like cute den leaders with their outfits on?  I do not look like that with my 'outfit' on.  But I think I've figured out the problem.  I don't have a chest.  See how their shirt is appropriately tight in that area?  Mine doesn't do that.  I even sewed up the sides to make it smaller and it still doesn't even begin to look like them.  I just look like a boy with a chin-length bob cut.

That was not a good start to my day.  But when I got there, I realized that only the older den leaders were wearing their uniform.  All the girls that were 45 or younger were wearing their normal cute jeans or shorts and flip flops.  The obedient molly in me wanted to feel self-righteous that I had followed instructions, but I really just knew that I was officially a scouting nerd.  Can anyone help me?  How do I make my outfit cute?  You don't want to know all the different ideas that have gone through my head but I think chances are low that any of them would look good.  But that's ok because this is a challenge and it's the challenges that keep me alive.

R.I.P. my mom's metabolism

Here's a classic Melissa story from right before my mission:

My single's ward relief society had its retreat and all the single ladies met to go camping. Around the fire that night, I sat with all the rest playing get to know you activities. This particular activity was: Tell us your favorite thing about your body. Well, let's just say I didn't have a very good opinion of my body at that time (acne, gangly, big nosy and long toesies). All the other girls were saying things like: "my cuticles", "my nose", "my cute feet", "my smooth skin". As I looked around the fire at the other girls; a lot of whom were overweight, all I could think of to say was: "I'm grateful I got my mom's metabolism instead of my dad's" (cause see: my mom is skinny and my dad was bigger). Many years of heckling and persecution followed such an insensitive comment.

10 years later, I am finally saying goodbye to eating whatever I want, whenever I want. I feel like my life is over. I know, you all feel SO sorry for me, but I hope you will support me during this traumatic time. I'm not sure how my mom's metabolism's death was brought on. It could be the 5lb bag of candy bars that I ate in a week's period of time at work. Or could it be that I suddenly crave food ALL the time instead of just when I'm hungry? (What is that about?!)

Speaking of awkward Melissa moments. I had another one just yesterday:
I don't know how many of you knew that I was dating someone for a few months (pick yourself up off the floor). We broke up about a month ago. Yesterday, at church, these two older ladies that I love greeted me and asked if my special friend was still in my life. I said: "Oh, we broke up". To which, one of them said: "oh, good... good!.... will we be getting an announcement soon?"

I paused to study her face and bent closer to her ear and said: "WE BROKE UP". They then had a look of comprehension come over them but still said: "oh good... good!".

I just nodded my head in confusion for a while until the other one said: "so...did he move out then?"

No wonder they thought it was good!

part 26 of 365

Things that keep Melissa alive

Part 26: Butter, Spreadable Butter, Garlic Butter, and Margarine

Do you remember that part of the movie Elf where he tells elves 4 main food groups? (Candy, Candy Canes, Candy Corns, and Syrup) Well, I am the same way with butter. As an example, I have taken a picture of my fridge, as it is today:

Don't worry, the cheese is in the door. And that carton of eggs in the bottom right corner has one egg left in it. Everything needed to sustain Melissa's life!

Butter is pretty much good on anything - except maybe jello, though I'm not sure.

My friend Carla makes these yummy biscuits that she claims have enough butter in them, that you don't need to put any butter on them. My pardons to Carla, but her words don't even make sense. Everything is better with butter on it!

For proof, I would point you to this article I found a couple years ago, written by Matthew in North Salt Lake. He is also a true believer. I wonder if he's married....

If you are too lazy to read the entire article, let me quote the highlights for you:

"Some of my earliest and most fond memories are of me and my family sitting around spreading butter on stuff. Toast, baked potatoes, corn on the cob, hot dinner rolls, you name it – we spread butter on it. I remember when I was in Cub Scouts and my dad and I spread butter on my first Pinewood Derby car. I remember the time I came home after dropping off Stacy Peacock at her house on prom night. My dad was waiting up for me. He saw the tears in my eyes and before I could even tell him what was wrong, he was spreading butter on my face.

I love my dad for the butter he gave me and I hope that I can give that same gift to my children. It’s a hard world to live in these days, but if we just remember to believe in butter, i know that it can give us the strength to make it through anything."

So, apparently, even faces are better with butter on them. I can't wait to try it.

Amen, Matthew... A-MEN

my life just got 3.14 times better

Yesterday we all celebrated one of the fastest growing holidays on the planet (determined with statistics from a dow melissa poll). If I knew more about pi, I imagine would be able to make a lot of intelligent quips right now about the circumference of my waist the day after Pi Day. I do believe I am at least 3.14 times larger around today than I was yesterday pre pie ingestion.

Other ways I celebrated this important day:

• I hit my snooze bar 3.14 times
• Was 3.14 minutes late for work
• Had 3.14 for customers get mad at me
• Attended 3.14 Pi/Pie parties (3 parties plus a piece of pie in bed before I went to sleep)
• Met 3.14 new nerdy friends at each party - 10 total, but one was really small.
• Got stuck in the far left hand turn lane at a malfunctioning stop light long enough to bake a pie and eat it
• Successfully avoided making a pie for the 3.14th year in a row.

Thank you to all you people who did make pies so that I could eat them. Officially, I tried 6 different pies last night. I think that's a record for a girl with a body that would rather take a good soak in the great salt lake than eat too much sugar.

Part 25 of 365

Things that keep Melissa Alive

Part 25: Growing old with the old


As you know, I recently moved and started a new job. I also stopped working at the temple. Even though I continue to age, I thought that no longer working at the temple would make me less of an old lady; although I continue to play bridge (ok I played it once), eat poached eggs, avoid wearing heeled shoes, and enjoy family history.

I started going to a family ward and I love it! It is riddled with old people which makes for much entertainment. I find that the elderly are often like young children in that way.

For example: This last sunday, in RS, we had the last few minutes for testimonies. A sister with a walker stood up at the back to share her testimony from there. She was talking a little quietly but I didn't think much of it. About 5 minutes into her testimony, another older sister at the front of the room stood up (also where she was) and said rather loudly: "SISTERS, I'D LIKE TO SHARE MY TESTIMONY..." Across the room someone yelled "SHARON IS ALREADY GIVING HER TESTIMONY, SISTER!" At which point, the second sister apologized because she hadn't heard the first sister talking for that entire 5 minutes. Everyone then went back to their glazed looks like nothing had happened.

On Monday night, we had 3 older single ladies in our ward over so they could tell us about their month-long trip to Antarctica! We want to invite different people over like this but for some reason, we (maybe it's just me) are drawn more to the older ladies than the young families. Or maybe it's that the older ladies are more approachable and easier to be friends with!

My new job also finds me on the phone all day with many older people. From them, I also find entertainment, but mainly frustration. They don't know how to attach files, close a browser window, open a new browser tab, turn on their computer, or put their phone on speaker phone. It made me wonder if the older ladies in my ward that I love are also lacking these skills? I wondered how I can love these customers as much as I love my ward members? The solution is obvious: I need to go to church with all of them. Anybody want to join me on a road trip?

If I do the math, I'm not really as old as 'old people', but according to the cartoon at the top of this post, I am one.

I'm glad I have joined my people.

Parts 22, 23 & 24 of 365

Things that Keep Melissa Alive

Part 22: New Digs!

Part 23: Cool Ocean!

Part 24: New Job!

You know when people ask you what's new and you very lamely respond..."not much, you?" I got to the point where I thought I would never ever have anything new to tell anyone. Well guess what? New is now my middle name. I can talk for hours about New. Unfortunately, I don't have time to talk for hours about it on here and that's what this post is about.

Here's how it played out:

New Digs! - On Saturday, Nov 19th, I moved into my sweet new basement living quarters. I seriously love pretty much everything about the place. Here's the positives and negatives:

Positives:

1. Close proximity to the home I grew up in
2. Close proximity to Burger King
3. Continuing close proximity to McDonalds and Ridleys (they're everywhere!)

Negatives:

1. Close proximity to the home I grew up in
2. Lack of close proximity to Home Depot
3. Lack of close proximity to Del Taco

Obviously, I have made some big sacrifices to move here by giving up having del taco and home depot just around the corner.

Cool Ocean! - On Sunday, Nov 21st at 6am, I flew to Hawaii with my family for thanksgiving!

I'm pretty sure I have the distinction of being the first person to throw up in the newly dedicated Hawaii temple. The honor is mine, really.

I want to know who doesn't feel like this when standing in front of forsythia?

New Job! - Monday the 29th of November, I started my new job! We arrived home from Hawaii that same morning at about 2am, I slept for 4 hours and then got up to start my first day!

This is really the reason I am posting today. My new job is actually a JOB, it turns out. I am busy from the moment I sit down until 9-10 hours later when I finally pry my sweaty wrists from the formica desktop. This is very disappointing for me because it takes away from my usual job-type activities like: checking my email, IMing with friends, watching the occasional tv show on hulu, arranging my life via google docs...and blogging. Yes, blogging. It turns out, if I don't have time to do it at work, I don't really want to do it. Just so you know, I'm going to try to keep it up, but my goal is somewhat diminished. My new goal is once a month.

----

It seems like my life is crazy and stressful but I guess that's part of being alive! ...and that er... keeps me alive.

part 21 of 365

Things that keep Melissa alive

Part 21: Family History

Ok, yesterday was one of the best days of my life. Nope... no job yet. And nope, I'm not talking about the huge victory at the polls for republicans. It's a different kind of 'best'. The source of this jubilation lies behind reason number 31 that I am an old lady: I love family history. But let me tell you, this is not your gramma's shoe box of pictures-family group sheet-Gedcom file-searching for film in the BYU library-Family History (not that I have anything against that). This family history involves cloak and dagger research skills, breaking laws, battling stickers in your socks, hiking for 30 minutes in unknown territory, and driving for 6 or more hours for hands on discovery.

Tour de Fort

Here are the basics: I have an ancestor who started the tiny bustling town of Hamilton Fort, UT just south of Cedar City. Online, it says he was buried there in Hamilton Fort but as I talked with relatives about it, no one was really sure where the cemetery was or if it even existed anymore. I was directed to a hand-drawn map by a great-uncle years and years previous. This map showed I-15 and highway 91 and a basic location of the cemetery in relation to those landmarks.

My sister and I packed our gps and water bottles and headed down to cedar city for the day to check it out. Wire fences surrounded the general area we thought the location should be and inside those fences, a saw mill. After hiking along a wash and climbing over and under 2 different fences, we spotted a small picket-fenced area. The closer we got to it, the more we allowed ourselves to believe this is exactly what we were seeking!

Inside the fence were about 9 grave areas. Some of the headstones were in quite good shape considering they were about 150 years old. All of the legible stones bore the name of Hamilton.

Suddenly my sister wasn't complaining so much about the legality of the trespassing we were doing. "Let the cops come!" we announced to the sky, "Any fine is worth this!"

We made sure to take our time documenting the location and contents of each headstone. Then, soaking in revelry, we started the 20 min walk back. Even the jack rabbit and deer we saw bouncing around us seemed to be celebrating. I hope so, because we're trusting them that they won't tell on us.

part 20 of 365

Things that no longer keep Melissa alive

Part 20: BYU Football

Oh hi. Has it been a month already? It's amazing how times flies when you're not doing anything of substance....

Lest you be offended that I haven't taken the time to blog, consider this for a moment: I have only watched one BYU football game this year. And that wasn't even the whole thing. I know, CrAzY!

Actually, most of you are probably saying the same thing with the kind of season they are having. You're thinking that I'm one of those fair weather fans. But, my history would show I am kind of the opposite, really.

For proof, I would direct you to:

• The BYU trading cards I collected in 6th grade from the D.A.R.E. program.
• There's also that time in 7th grade that my next door neighbor and I rode the UTA down to BYU to attend a football practice and get such autographs as: Eric Drage, Derwin Gray, and Ty Detmer. How many of you remember Derwin Gray?.. I rest my case. He is still my all-time favorite byu football player. If you don't know who Ty Detmer is you shouldn't even be reading this post.
• I had every season's schedule poster hanging in my room.
• I bought Ty Detmer's autobiography that he wrote right after he left BYU.
• I drew picture after picture of byu football players (including the one of Ty Detmer above).
• I made deals with God that if BYU could just win this one game against Utah that it would be ok if I never found my cat, Cougar that went missing.
• I named my black cat: Cougar.

I was reminded about my dying love this morning as I remembered one halloween when I was about 12 that BYU played Colorado State on Halloween night. I could not choose between the two events so I put on my costume over a radio headset and listened to the game while walking around the neighborhood holding a pillowcase and saying 'Trick or Treat' quite a bit louder than was necessary.

I ate, slept, breathed and vomited byu football from about the ages of 8-21. I add vomit in there because byu football games often gave me headaches which got so bad they would make me vomit.

My parent's coping mechanism for me was this: the moment a game made me cry, it was turned off.

Over the years, I developed my own coping mechanisms:

• The machete anger release. After a particularly bad game, I would take my dad's machete and head out back to vent my frustrations on the dying corn stalks.
• Watch with other (normal) people. This would encourage me to control my anger a little more.
• Don't watch at all. That's where this season comes in. Utah, anyone?

things learned from Mozzie

Not this Mozzie:

This Mozzie:

I am not referring to the quirky side-kick on the USA network show, White Collar. I am referring to the newest member of my family that I named after said TV show character.

I found Mozzie here on my search for fall leaves:

I have always wanted a horned lizard as a pet, let's just get that out in the open right now. So hiking along this trail and seeing dozens of Mozzie's running around at my feet was a dream come true.

Some ways I have discovered that I am like Mozzie:

• I, too, must be cold blooded because I, too, need a heat rock at the bottom of my bed every night to warm up my feet.
• I find that I can live on very little water, just like Mozzie
• I, too, can be hypnotized by a good back rub (ok... he likes belly rubs):

I know, I know.. he looks dead, but he's really just hypnotized by my huge finger rubbing his tiny belly.

And in the category of: Most startling realization I made about myself - The award goes to:

I will never sleep as a parent. The first day I had him, I looked up how to care for a horned lizard and read website after website that strongly urged not to try and care for a horned lizard because they are too delicate and complicated to care for.

So the first night I had him, I put some crickets in his cage and set it in the window sill by my bed. I lay there for hours anxiously worrying that he wouldn't even make it through the night.

I finally fell asleep and when I awoke early the next morning, I nervously peeked in the cage and to my joy saw him skittering around all lively. Two of the crickets were even gone! And the next morning another cricket was gone! Then... that day, as I cleaned my room, I found two tiny crickets bouncing around my shoes in my closet. The realization hit me that he was not eating the crickets afterall.. I can't even keep a lizard alive!

So today, I make the trip back up to buffalo peak to set him free. Maybe it really is better not to have a child then to be constantly worrying about one.

part 19 of 364

Things that keep Melissa alive

Part 19: Facebook

Does anybody else have a love-hate relationship with facebook?

Loves:

• Being able to stalk a guy I'm interested in as far as his privacy settings will let me
• Reading minute by minute updates from all my facebook friends that I went to high school with but never really talked to who are sitting at home with their 6 children.
• I have 268 friends!
  
• When I have thoroughly checked all 3 of my email accounts then the next logical step is to kill time by reading everyone's statii (plural). Thank you facebook.
• That feature that allows you to de-tag yourself in any photo you choose. Why did it take me so long to discover that?
  

Hates:

• When someone doesn't use their facebook nearly as much as I do so it takes them 3 weeks to confirm my friend request. Meanwhile, I am left in agony wondering if they secretly hate me and it just took them 3 weeks to get up enough charity to add me.
• When facebook randomly decides not to notify me of life or death messages I have been waiting for.
  
• Farmville. And every other 'ville (except Springville... I mean, it's Art City!)
  
• The pressure to have every word I type on facebook be the height of wittiness. So instead, I type nothing.
• That you can't "appear" offline on facebook but still see everyone else that is online. Gmail totally lets you do that (next blog post: Why Gmail Keeps Me Alive and is Better than Facebook).

Today I saw an article on MSN: Facebook users are jerks, another study confirms.

Apparently studies show that "Facebook users are either totally conceited or serious self-haters." To which I say: Hey! I resemble that! Are they saying that no rational middle-of-the-road individuals are on facebook? So: Grandma and My Mom, I guess. And maybe 2 people my age that I know of. Or it could be that the normal people are those ones I hate that only log in once a month.

Speaking of Hating: "hating Facebook is a popular topic on Facebook". I almost posted the link to this article on my facebook status, but then I'd just be shooting for popularity.

part 18 of 364

Things that keep Melissa alive

Part 18: Air + Pillow = best $5 ever spent

Have I ever mentioned the words Headache, Neck, Spine, or Smash-my-head-with-a-cinder-block on here? Let me give you a hint: Yes, I have.

I have a spine that was not made to do somersaults, sit-ups or sit on airplanes. But to be fair, was anybody's spine made to sit on airplanes? Do any of you out there find airline seats comfy? I can't figure out if they were made for super short, or super tall people because no one with an average height has the head rest hit them in the right place. While I'm on the subject, is there someone we can petition about this? What if I sent out a massive email forwarding campaign where people could add their name to a list petitioning to make airline seats fit human bodies, instead of aliens? I wonder who we send such a petition to...

Anyway, back to the survival of Melissa on airplanes: A couple years ago I borrowed my friend Julie's blow-up neck pillow and immediately decided they are pointless to use as they were made. But, I was so desperate for something to ease my discomfort that I just shoved it behind my shoulder blades and gasped in disbelief. I was comfortable! I found that if I don't blow it up all the way, it can be used more universally like on my lower back if I prefer, or wherever. I've even sat on it before when my sit bones were feeling airline-seat bruised.

It took me a while to realize that if it's great on airplanes, it's stupendous on a long car ride! But what about those foreign hotels that think a 1/4 inch slab of fluff = a pillow for a bed? No problem! Blow up the neck pillow as high or low as you need to make the tortilla pillow just the right height for your neck and shoulders. Then stick it underneath!

Forget Obama's health care plan. I'm trusting my well-being to my $5 velveteen neck pillow. Don't leave home without it!

the font of my mind

I've had fonts on my mind lately. I think it's because of my trip to California last week, and I'll explain why a bit later.

Have you ever noticed the font trends? Like clothing, fonts go through trends, as well. I think the first time I realized that the font world consisted of more than Times New Roman was in High School. Enter Comic Sans.


Every time I see this font, I think of my 10th and 11th grade math class. My teacher had apparently just discovered the fonts in wordperfect and decided that this was her favorite. She used Comic Sans on every math test, disclosure document, and bulletin board item. She must have been a trend setter because I then saw Comic Sans everywhere.

By now, the trend has mostly passed. The one exception is the lower grade school teacher (who I believe the font was made for anyway).

_____________________

Follow me to college in the late 90's and early 2000's when every wedding invitation used Papyrus:


This font was so overused in fact, that people began making fun of it

But, can you blame people for liking it? Wouldn't you feel more important receiving an invitation that looked like it was from the emperor of Rome?

_____________________

Enter the 2000's, and the stay-at-home-mormon-mother-photographer-and-blogger phase. Does this look familiar?


That's right: Scriptina. It started showing up EVERYWHERE. And I mean that. Blogs, wedding invitations (the new papyrus), billboards, company logos, and just basically anything that you wanted to attach heartfelt meaning to. It's still around, sadly. Because once you design permanently in Scriptina, you are stuck with a logo that is so heartfelt that no one can actually read it.

_____________________

I'd like now, to submit to you the future trendy font. As we know, California trends trickle west.

Let me introduce you to Copperplate Gothic Bold. Every grocery store in California had a store front that looked like this:


I even saw road signs in this font. I suppose that it could be that this font trend will stay isolated to the middle California coastal region but my bet is that we will eventually see it in the highly font-trendy Utah region. And with your help, we can make it happen. Copperplate Gothic Bold: First California, then Utah... Then THE WORLD!