America the Beautiful

Every now and then I feel moved to become an artist. It runs in my family--my mother, my grandmother, and especially my great grandmother on my dad's side are all accomplished painters. Mom use to sell her toll-painted projects, Grandma's artwork fits right in with the other beautiful watercolor pieces on display in her home, and my Great-Grandma won first prize in the state fair with her painting of the lion and the lamb. You might think, as do I, that it probably runs in my blood and though buried deep, some magical day if I hold my tongue right and am smiled on by the mystical art nymphs I too will graduate from stick figures. Once I actually made a very convincing pencil-drawing of an empty toilet paper roll I tried a full roll with less success. Not even kidding. That being said, I have had the blessing to spend the last year as a migrant, living out of my car and moving every few months. In some ways it was a little difficult or lonely but mostly it was exciting and adventurous to meet so many wonderful new people and see so much of this amazing country. One of my new friends I met on this cross-country pilgrimage asked me the other day which area I liked best, and in thinking about it I decided I should write about the beauty of the various places I have been.

Any discussion about beautiful scenery will always need to start with home--Texas, in my case. My beloved home state is characterized by unbridled skies, long flat vistas, searing muggy heat that still surprises me with its intensity, and (in spite of most people's Hollywood-inspired perceptions) large leafy trees that provide useless shade and look even bigger than they are because the aren't forced to compete with mountains for breaking up the skyline. Like most people, there is that additional ethereal  "being home" beauty that is no more imagined than it is inexpiable.

Although Utah wasn't part of my "around-the-country-tour" last year I did spend several years there in school and have visited at least once each year since my graduation in 2009. Utah is rugged and imposing, majestic and almost violent in its beauty. The view from Bryce Canyon is quite literally breathtaking.



 
After graduating in Utah I went to Spokane, Washington right up by Coeur D'alene, Idaho for grad school. Spokane was too cold in the winter for my taste, but the other seasons were lovely. There are no large mountains where I was living, though they are readily available for the many outdoor enthusiasts in the area but there are rolling hills all through the city. Many of the roads have to be closed down in the winter because even with salt and snowplows the steep hills the roads are built on make them impassable. It is very green there, but my favorite part of the city is the diversity of everything; the people, the landscape, the weather, and even the restaurants. There is one in downtown Spokane where you can get deep fried Oreos if you know to ask for them.

Medford, Oregon was full of orchards. I was able to work one day in a pear orchard and even though I was there in the winter when most of the leaves were gone pictures of what the orchard sprang into mere weeks later were bright and friendly and beautiful. Medford also has moss, foliage, wildflowers, and blackberries everywhere and frothy fog most mornings.  Even in the winter, Medford was friendly.

Vancouver, Washington was also green, but green barely begins to describe it. Who knew there could ever be so very many shades of green in one place at one time? Vancouver is perhaps one of the most gorgeously lush places I have ever been. It did rain almost every day while I was there, and the resulting carpet of luxuriant forestry is amazing. Glistening lakes and rivers accent the forests of the region.

Last, I end up in Arizona. Going from Vancouver to Arizona was a bit of a culture shock, but even Arizona has its own beauty. Mysterious and romantic, the desert rolls out as a deadly force of heat and hard-fought survival in a world of dust, painted rocks, cacti, and brilliant neon sunsets. This will be my new home.

 

And so I am left to marvel at the beauty of the country I live in and for the moment I am left to leave the artistry up to the Creator while I marvel in his skill and diversity.

Tony Horton makes me cry... I hate him, but I love him

In life, there are some things you do just because they are good for you. Eating beets, washing behind your ears, making your bed, and balancing your checkbook are just examples of this phenomenon. For me, exercise falls in this category. I like feeling strong--being able to run up a few flights of stairs without being winded, able to carry groceries and boxes, able to work all day as walking, standing, pushing and lifting people back to health and not be exhausted at the end of the day. I also enjoy the feeling at the end of a workout, like I finished something hard and now it's out of the way. Mostly though, I feel like I have to work out because I tell people every day to stay in shape and exercise, so if I don't do it too then I feel guilty. All that to say, working out is not on my list of things-to-do-for-fun or even things-to-occupy-myself-with-when-I'm-bored.

This summer me and my sister have been trying to do P90X; an exercise program designed to either kill you or make you really strong after 13 weeks of difficult daily workouts that last between 60 and 90 minutes each. Disgusting, crazy, painful, and stupid can all be used to describe this behavior, but still we persist. I suppose if you piled up all the time people spend making their beds (not necessarily me, as my time may not add up to much) that may be seen as overboard too, right? Bottom line is that it is hard and difficult. We are sore every day after the previous day's work out, and it seems like we switch daily which of us has to work to diligently persuade the other to work out that day. Still, we can't stop because we've already put so much time and effort into what we've dune thus far that it seems wasteful at this point to not just go ahead and finish the program to see if at the end we are indeed either dead or fit. We are on week 6 and the jury is still out on which  if either state is the case.

Perhaps the worst part of the workout, however, is Tony Horton--the man who runs each workout.  He is super muscular (perhaps proving that bronze and brains don't always go together?) and he is cheerful and consistent, but somehow listening to him every day trying to be funny with the same jokes over and over again is more than a little exhausting. The following are all actual quotes from the workout videos.

"Don’t stop breathin’. You stop, you die." wonderful advice, really. "Tip of the day-don’t smash your face." again with the helpful advice. "Like a pterodactyl backing out of trouble. Kah!" this one, wouldn't be so bad if he didn't use it on several workouts, which means by the end of the 13 weeks you have  heard it over 30 times. "Go ahead and laugh, these are excellent jokes." His quote, not mine. "He makes Gumbie look like the Tin Man!" This one is during a stretch and is actually a little bit funny. "Don’t bite your toes, Aarg. I recommend foot spray." This is during a cobbler stretch, and yes, he actually says that. “Let the weight of your head do the work. Mine weighs 600 lbs; there’s nothing in it." Truer words, friend. Truer words. “Lets make it x like… not exlax thats somethin different” I'm telling you, you can't make this stuff up.

I could go on, but hopefully you get the picture. Perhaps not the brightest crayon in the box. Still, he is cheerful and works hard. That being said, sometimes after walking around observing and commenting on everyone sweating their faces off he likes to jump in at the very end and brag about his superior form and speed, sometimes even making fun of his less-effective work out buddies. This wins no love from me, as my form and speed definitely leaves much to be desired, even compared to the less-than-perfect participants behind the self-proclaimed perfectionist.

I wish I could go on, but the dreaded Tony time has come again and today it's my turn to encourage my sister that yes, we do want to exercise. Bottom line, I had better look awesome in seven weeks or I will be left to bemoan the loss of perfectly healthy brain cells.

You've Got Mail... Now What?

I am throwing my dignity on the symbolic alter of full disclosure in an effort to vent out my snarkiness here rather than somewhere it might wreak more damage. I've always thought public humiliation, like bandaids, are best taken care of in one swift pull--rip it off. Here it goes: I have joined the world of online dating. It's true. The how and the why is a complicated and mortifying tale that I have absolutely no intention of disclosing unprotected here, but long and short of it is that I am officially an online dater.

Anyone who knows me at all knows that while I certainly have talents and good points dating and dealing with men in general is absolutely not one of them. I'm not sure what made me think that dealing with them in the cyber world would be more successful than dealing with them in the flesh, but somehow I did. In reality, I suppose I am a better conversationalist when I can edit and spell-check them before they are sent into the world. There are also obvious benefits when people can only see cute pictures of me. However, there are also some pretty serious pitfalls.

One obvious problem is the premise: you are waiting for an e-mail which is somehow even more pathetic than waiting for a phone call. The frequency is an issue--you don't want to write so frequently that you seem desperate but you don't want to wait so long between e-mails that he looses interest. Also, lots of guys don't put up a picture at all. At the risk of exposing even more of my shallow self while appearance isn't everything not showing a picture at all still makes me curious. Does he have an unsightly mole on his left eyelid that prevents him from opening it? Does he have tattoos covering his face? Maybe he french braids his nostril hairs? What does it mean? Or what about the guy who uses "lol", "hee hee", an inordinate amount of explanation points and no capital letters in his e-mails? Is that how he talks in real life? With no capital letters? Then there is the question of how to stop a web-based non-relationship. Do you send an "it's not you it's me" e-mail? Do you just stop reading his? Do you tell him you want to try and be facebook friends? And how long do you exchange e-mails until you expect him to "make a move" to the next step? (On that note, what should the next step be? Do we exchange numbers--usually the first step so it kind of feels like going backwards? Do we actually try and meet? How does this work anyway?)

So meanwhile I will keep looking for an "online dating book for dummies" book and falling all over myself online and in person... at least until my subscription runs out.

Me and my Daddy

Normally I am just to a fault--fairness is one of the most important virtues to me. Certainly I know that life is not fair and all that, but I can certainly try and be fair. All that to say, after writing about mom for Mother's Day I have long been intending to write about dad too. Below you will find my top 5 favorite memories of my father.

I grew up in a family with 5 younger siblings. My home was almost always busy, happy, and exciting, but I learned early that time alone with daddy was valuable and worth seeking out. Dad started out with 2 daughters before he finally got his son, so my earliest happy memory with him is learning all about football--rules, penalties, positions, and scoring. That of course led to many happy memories watching football with dad.

Dad also taught me about fishing as a young girl, and to this day I love to fish. My favorite fishing memory with my dad was when we were camping one day. Me and dad got up earlier than everyone else and went trout fishing for a few hours. We had been waiting for two old men to vacate a lucrative fishing hole for most of that time and we finally started catching stuff when they left. Unfortunately a thunder storm started right about then and we had to take the boat to shore and seek emergency shelter under a tree. I don't remember what we talked about but I do remember feeling special and important and loved.

My next memory is not nearly as specific. I was a typical teenager, sure that my world was tumbling down around my ears at the slightest provocation and one day when I was crying over some reason that I'm sure I would twinge over now dad gave me a hug and wiped away my tears. His thumb was large and calloused and I felt like everything would be alright--I will never forget the love behind that gesture.

Next happened recently. In 2011 I ran a marathon in Kansas. Don't ask me where this crazy idea came from cause I still don't know, but mom, dad, and one of my sisters all came to support me. As I crossed the finish line they were all there to greet me and dad didn't seem to mind that I was sweaty and disgusting he just held open his arms and hugged me to him. He still thinks it was a wildly crazy idea (rightly so, I guess) but he still supported me.

My favorite favorite memory though was when he sent me off on my mission. I will never forget the way he hugged me and the feelings we shared then.

I love my dad! I am so lucky in the parents that I was given.

Finished

I can’t believe I am done. I have been on this journey so long that I almost don’t know how to feel now that it is over. The ceremony itself was a bit of a blur. It didn’t help that I was running a fever and my whole body was aching, but as I gave my professors and classmates a hug at the end my hoarse voice said “goodbye” somehow I felt like I was rehearsing a line. I have said more than a few goodbyes during this year of moving every 3 months for a new internship but somehow these are partings I wasn’t prepared for. How does it make sense to say goodbye when of course I would see them all again in class—the same way I had seen them every week day for the last 2 years… except I won’t see them again. This is the end of school. The class of 2012 is disbanded and we are all officially physical therapists now. I sat by Christine and Ansley, Jenny cried a little, Jason laughed at me for sleeping during the ceremony, Elias skipped the whole thing, and minus one other palpable absence the whole gang was there. It was refreshing to see everyone, but even better was the feeling of standing on the stage, listening to my name being read, and having Dr. Anton place a hood over my head. That is a feeling I will never forget—a warmness not quite from my fever or the sun that left me grinning like a fool and prancing across the platform to retrieve an empty diploma cover. After seven years, an embarrassingly large sum of student loans, a river of tears, an untold number of late nights, and more stress than I ever thought I could endure, I am finished. An army of teachers, friends, family, and mentors have led me to this moment and there is no way I could have gotten here any other way. Even with that, it was also a lot of work. A mountain of really really exhaustingly hard work, and I did it.

You can call me doctor if you want.

Hair: 1 Me: 0

I lost yet another epic battle to my hair earlier this week. Not good. This is a fairly common occurrence and I will take this opportunity to outline the various strategies of the opposing sides in all their hairy glory:

My strategies

Bio-warfare: I literally drown my poor hair in a barrage of product. Shampoo, conditioner, curling moose or gel, frizz control as needed, and whatever else I can use to try and control the opposing forces.

Capture and Torture: Tying up, pinning back, braiding, twisting around, and whatever other strategy I can think of to force my hair into whatever socially-acceptable shape I can manage, whether it wants to be there or not!

Suffocation: technique utilizing hat, scarf, bandanna, or paper bag if that is all that is available.

Negligence: Sometimes when all else fails all I can do is do my best to ignore what a mess my hair is. I have gotten pretty good at pretending not to know it is such a disaster.

Decapitation: Not used quite as frequently but occasionally there is nothing else for it but to cut off the fuzzy mess and dispose of the casualties.

Hair Strategies


Explosives: This seems to be my hair's weapon of choice--expanding from seemingly harmless strands into a mini tree. Nice.

Kamikaze sacrifice: I lose lots of hair... lots and lots. So desperate to be separated from me it seems to leap out of my head.

Sneak Attack: Another favorite: after painstakingly exerting my best efforts to control the mop perched atop my head it delights in escaping said style, bushing into wildness, and corkscrewing into chaos.

Indecent Exposure: I'm half embarrassed to mention this one,but my hair likes to show looks that are absolutely not meant for public eyes.

And so the battle rages on. Eventually, of course I will win, cause I have the ultimate weapon at my disposal; raze and destroy. I haven't yet pulled the "shave off the offending forces" move, but as it is always in my power to do so my hair will never be able to fully defeat me!

Happy Mother's Day!

For Mother's Day I have thought about what tribute would be good to share here since I am pretty sure she is really the only one who reads this... stuff. (I wanted to use a different word, but as this is a post for her I don't think she would have liked the one I was thinking of). I decided on a collection of her common quotes-ones I do not always like because I am not always smart enough to listen to my mother, but ones she uses a lot.

"Don't Should on Yourself"
Mom doesn't like the word should--it usually is used in a send-yourself-on-a-guilt trip way after all.


"You are on Thin Water!"
This started as a family joke, though it was a dangerous funny at the time. I was just a little girl but still remember the situation. Dad had done something to make mom mad and even though we all knew her irritation was rising (the steam was coming out of her ears in little puffs, her eyes were slowly starting to glow red) whatever dad was doing he continued, much to mom's irritation. Finally she blurted this quote out in frustration--an unsuccessful unconscious effort to combine the "in hot water" and "on thin ice" threats. This is definitely a you-had-to-be-there moment but I will not soon forget the way mom's palpable irritation slowly melted away as my father (who has a special talent for making people laugh at themselves) got us giggling and mom allowed her grumpiness to wash it away. Now when she uses it I feel like she is reminding me not to take myself too seriously.


"It's going to be okay."
I will not embarrass myself by disclosing how frequently I need this assurance, but I will say that mom is always able and willing to give it, no matter what time I call her. : )


"I don't need it..."
This one makes me smile and shake my head in exasperation. Mom, who is often encouraging me to splurge a little and get something new--shoes, a dress, a top, or whatever (not that I usually do, haha) never ever seems to get one for herself even when dad tells her to. He almost always has to take her to the store and make her get something. Such is the selflessness of motherhood--always putting everyone's needs above her own.

 

"Well President Eyering says:"
Mom likes all the church leaders, but for whatever reason President Eyering seems to be her favorite. Whatever follows is usually wise and wonderful but we still like to give her a hard time.


"A person all wrapped up in themselves makes a very small package"
Think about it.

"I'm cold."
Mom is a frugal machine who also suffers from significantly low blood pressure. Consequently in the middle of Texas winter (and I know those words don't really go together, but humor me--it's Mother's Day) she keeps the house in the 60s before she turns on the heater. When she was still working at home this meant that she would sit on the couch with her computer with a sweatshirt, at least 1 coat, and at least 1 pair of gloves or socks on her hands to try and get her work done. The ironic part of this whole story is that while I complain here I will probably end up keeping my house at the extreme temperature ends too because that's how I grew up--you save money by suffering a little.

"Have you prayed about it?"
This is her answer to every problem I bring to her (and let's just say I probably bring more than my fair share and most of them I bring more than once). Excellent advice--the kind that sometimes makes me laugh and say, "do you really always have to be right?"

"I don't know what I'm doing"
Strange for her to say that to me, as I am a firm believer that she does have it all figured out, but also somehow comforting because I absolutely have no clue what I'm doing, so if that is true at least I'm in good company!

"I'm doing laundry"
It seems like mom is always always always doing laundry. I don't mind laundry personally but I happen to know it is her least favorite job. Sorry mom. : (

and last but not least....

"I love you!"
 I love you too mom. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. I am a pretty lucky kiddo to have a laundry-master, prophet quoting, reassuring, mother Sensei  in my forever future. Happy Mother's Day!