i'm a mom

Ok, it's official. I know I've been pregnant for what seems like ages (it's only recently dawned on me that I will not be pregnant forever, but will, in fact, be skinny again one day), but it is now totally for real. Why? Well, because the other day I finally had some true, spontaneous, and almost overwhelming mom feelings.

I've never been the baby crazy type. I never wanted to hold my young woman advisors' babies. I didn't yearn to go out and moon over cutsey baby things the second I knew I was expecting. I didn't even fantasize about how I would decorate my baby's room. All I know is that I love my family, I've always known that I wanted one, and - as far as anyone has told me - this is how you go about getting it.

It almost makes me sound like an unfeeling automaton, doesn't it? Well, I'm happy to report that I am truly a flesh and blood, genuine, and loving mother. My proof came the other day when I was doing nothing more spectacular than pulling up to a yogurt place for lunch. As I was approching I just kind of started thinking about having a baby. I started imagining holding him and talking to him and taking him with me places. And in the middle of imagining I spontaneously started to giggle with joy and excitement. My eyes even started to well up in happy emotion (I tried to keep that under control, though, seeing how I was about to order my lunch). It was unexpected and not forced. It sprang up from some place inside of me which must be the dormant maternal instinct that I've been waiting to hear from since May, when I first knew I was pregnant. It felt very good, and made me very happy, and I'm very grateful for it. Maybe I'll be a good mom afterall.

can't help but love those happy fish

The other day I was cruzing down the road and I spotted a police car. He was parked in the suicide lane. I, of course, tapped on the breaks and looked around to be sure I was driving as safely as possible. As I passed the cop, fully expecting him to be eagerly eyeing oncoming traffic for any speeders, I noticed that he, instead, was leaned over his in-car computer.

I'm not sure how, but I just know he was taking care of his fish in Happy Aquarium on facebook. ;)

little loves

I love the smell of new tires when you walk into a tire shop.
I love the sound of the key turning in the lock that means my husband just got home.
I love the soft "plooping" thing that happens when something thick reaches boiling point on the stove.
I love books about our amazing brains and about learning to be happy.
I love how I can smell my strawberry lip gloss right after I put it on my lips.
I love getting random texts or phone messages from family (or friends).
I love noticing how beautiful the mountains are on my drive to work.
I love humongous bedrooms.
I love the smell of cold air when I'm bundled up nice and warm.
I love the feel of fur or hair, whatever texture it comes in.
I love split keyboards.
I love having my own bowls and spoons and knives and cooking with them.
I love taking short walks to get a snack in the middle of the day.
I love the smell of chlorine on my skin and wish I'd had more of that lately.
I love feeling my heart beat in my chest when I am sitting very still.
I love feeling full of love and like the world is spinning exactly as it should be.

pain shmain

So last night my adorable husband and I attended our very first birthing class. We decided to go with "Hypnobirthing" and I am so excited about it. As we sat there learning and discussing about what birth really is and how your body is made to do this and how our cultural perceptions of giving birth have gotten totally out of whack, I couldn't help but be enthralled. I also couldn't help but link it all to everything I've learned in my life about positive thinking, emotions, and their effect on the brain.

There are so many awesome stories that I wish I could tell you all! I will share at least one, told by a doctor who was called for while serving in the trenches for the British army in like WWII or something. He documented how a woman, going who-knows-where, came to the trenches, asked for a doctor, and was helped down into the trenches to give birth. He describes how she seemed to have little discomfort, made little noise or fuss (even amidst the noise of battle), and he sort of just watched as she simply gave birth. It wasn't too long after that that she wrapped up her little newborn, was helped out of the trenches, and continued on her way. Through his years he witnessed a few births like this and was always trying to figure out what the difference was between these women, and those freaked-out kind in high society London who's births he usually attended to. Can you believe that story! So stinking awesome!

Ok, just one more. Another doctor who delivered tons of babies in the usual back-in-the-day very medically orchestrated way had a pretty consistent 25% C-section rate. 25%! Are you kidding me? That is huge! Then they started having more patients who wanted to have natural birth, (these were more of the fearful and painful kinds that people usually think of when they think of doing it without drugs) and the C-section rate dropped to 5%. That is pretty amazing. Then they learned about hypnobirthing and started all mothers in the program. In the three years since starting, there have been only three C-sections, and loads of more comfortable, less stressful births. Absolutely amazing.

I love it because it paints for me a picture of human beings giving birth the way all the animals do on the nature shows. If they can go off and simply and easily give birth...without even making a sound...why can't we? That's the thing, we totally can and I am so so glad to be learning more about it. I may have been able to do it without formal instruction, but it is so nice to have this resource.

And I'm getting almost excited to respond to the overwhelmingly common reaction I get when I tell people I'm going to do it "natural." They usually say something like, "oh, well good luck with that," or "wow, well if you think you can handle it." I know that they have this vision of a stressful, painful experience where you just grit through the pain, but that's not it at all. The point is to not have pain. To not trick your body and mind out of knowing and doing what it instinctively knows how to do. To let all the natural chemicals in your body take care of the situation and make it a good one. That's the point, that's what I'm going for. And If you are sceptical it's only cause you haven't gotten to see the women giving birth that they show us in class. So cool...or cause you've never been hypnotised and don't know just how super awesome it feels.

meyers-briggs is on to something

Have you heard of the Meyers-Briggs personality test? Well, anyone who has had any amount of conversation with me has probably figured out that I am a devoted fan of The Color Code, but I did recently try the Meyers-Briggs thing. Now I have to say that I still think it's a little complicated and too in depth to ever study and get good at like I have The Color Code, but it definitely has something to it.

I turned out to be an INTJ which means Introverted iNtuitive Thinking Judging. And get this, the nickname for my type? Mastermind. Ha! I love it. The reason it's called that is because "masterminds" tend to be very good at looking at a project in full, foreseeing all the requisite parts or steps needed, and planning accordingly. And they don't get stuck on one strategy because, while they like to have a plan A, they are perfectly comfortable switching to plan B or C if needed. That is so me it cracks me up...in fact it tends to be what my boss comments on the most.

Some other zingers?

"Although they are highly capable leaders, Masterminds are not at all eager to take command, preferring to stay in the background until others demonstrate their inability to lead."
I don't know how many times I've sat around in a group waiting for someone else to take charge, but if no one else will, then I'll do it.

"efficiency is indispensable"
Poor Ty has felt the brunt of this as, in every conversation it's like I'm always asking "what's the point of this train of thought" and if I see none, I want it to stop.

"Problem-solving is highly stimulating to Masterminds"
Cough, cough.

"usually develop a very strong will"

"they are suspicious of any statement that is based on shoddy research, or that is not checked against reality"
Are you sure?

"know what they know, and perhaps still more importantly, they know what they don't know"
Ha! I love this, maybe it's why people do like to ask me about stuff they don't know. A lot of times I can help, but if I can't, I'll tell you.

"do not readily grasp the social rituals; for instance, they tend to have little patience and less understanding of such things as small talk and flirtation"
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! This is pretty much THE reason it took me so long to get a first kiss...I had no idea what was going on!

So anyway, there you have it. I guess I'm still just me.

kinda cool

Today I went to Cafe Rio for lunch. Nothing unusual. I stepped up to the counter and was close enough to hear the man in front of me give his order. He and the server spoke in seamless Spanish as the man chose between types of frijoles, whether to have queso, and asked for extra cilantro (one of the things I love about Cafe Rio is you can get extra of something without them batting an eye). I listened in, and while I missed some words I understood most of the transaction. I don't know what it was but I liked listening to such a normal thing, that I almost belonged to, being transacted in another language.

Then, as the man's order concluded and the server started to turn to me I had a moment where I wondered how he would address me and what his accent would sound like. I assumed he'd switch to English and he did...effortlessly, and with hardly a recognizable accent. Then I ordered, making all the same decisions (I asked for extra pico de gallo), but with everything taking place in English.

I'm having a hard time pinpointing why I left Cafe Rio with a little bubble of joyful satisfaction in my heart. I think it had something to do with how we (I included) seem to separate the places where different languages belong and are used. I mean, sure, I was in a Spanish style restaurant where Hispanics are heavily employed, but it's still a place that I (who am so obviously Caucasian that the server knew to use English before even looking at me) often frequent and am very comfortable with. I liked how the two languages seemed to coexist so tranquilly in the same space, under the same purpose. I liked that it was all so easy, comfortable, and almost friendly feeling. It made me wish even more that I actually spoke Spanish, but mostly it made me wish we could all feel that way, around all languages and nationalities, all the time.

doctor my eyes

I'm not sure why but I am just loving this song today. I think I heard it on the radio the other day and today I listened to it about 10 times. Thought it might be fun for some of you to remember.

moon dreams

It has been interesting, while being married, to learn so intimately about someone else's sleep patterns. One thing in particular is that my huny rarely dreams, and when we got married he seemed a little jealous that I was always dreaming. I tried to warn him, though, that dreams aren't always relaxing and wonderful...and sometimes they are down right tiring. Well, he started dreaming and, unfortunately, his weren't the "puppies and butterflies" type that I have (that's what he called my dreams one day and it made me laugh). So, good for him, in the past few nights he has stopped remembering his dreams once again. Good job huny. But he still gets to listen to mine.

Like last night. I dreamed I was at a vacation resort on the moon! It was pretty awesome. I had a map like they always give you at those places so you can find your way around and to all the attractions. There were small lakes you could hike or drive to. My Aunt was there (we visited her last night so she must have been on the mind) and Ty was there to hike with me. There were lots of little details like seeing Earth out in the sky and how the landscape was all grey and black. All in all, it was a pretty cool vacation, and I'm ok with remembering my dreams.

learn how to cook, people, learn how to cook

So I made a comment on Facebook and I simply have to expound. In my ward we like to help each other. In particular, the Relief Society is very good about getting people to take meals to people who have just had babies and stuff like that. Well, I got a call the other day asking if I'd take a meal to a woman who recently had surgery (or something like that) on both her ankles and so is incapacitated. Sure, I'd be happy to. Well, the next day, as I was thinking about what I'd take, it occurred to me that she might have some little kids or something that I might have to make enough food for. So I called Judy (who'd called me before) to find out.

"Hi Judy, this is Adrian. I was just wondering if she has any kids or something like that that I should plan for."
"Oh yes, she has a daughter who lives with her.
(I imagine a little girl between 5 and 15)
she's 21..."

...there is a slight pause while I check my hearing, and Judy reads my mind.

"Yeah, she doesn't cook."
Me, "oh ok. Well, just wanted to know."
I hang up and start a dialog with myself.

Doesn't cook? What in the world does that mean? And what kind of spoiled kid is she that her mother is laid up for weeks and she doesn't try to learn while good people from the ward serve her free food, brought to her door, night after night? I don't even know if they ever go to church. It's like my equivalent of how Dad gets bugged when people who haven't attended church for 30 years call the Elders when they need help moving.

Guaranteed that if it was my mother and me in the same situation I would be doing the cooking and everything else. And probably still be taking meals to new mothers and such. I thought of calling back and offering to teach this unfortunate how to cook. Then I realized how mean I was sounding. Maybe there is some reason she "doesn't cook." Maybe she works crazy hours, or maybe she is mentally challenged or had her own surgery. Yes, there are a million perfectly logical explanations and I certainly hope to find out that one of them is true when I take the food over tonight. But even if I don't I've decided to not be rude or bugged about it. After all, I'm not really doing this for them, am I? I'm doing it for myself, to practice charity. I just hope they like egg rolls cause that's what I had planned for Ty and I and I don't want to go grocery shopping again for a few days.

This little situation has, though, made me ponder a lot lately about people who don't cook. Honestly, it's not that hard. Even if you don't feel comfortable in the kitchen, you can still follow instructions, can't you? Pull out a recipe and practice doing what someone else tells you. As long as you start with components that are edible for humans, chances are that the result will be edible too. You'll get more comfortable with time. It's just a place to start.

key?

So, I am thinking that maybe I am a binge blogger. I think of a bunch to write and blog a ton and then get it out of my system and forget about it for a while. Ha! I'll try to regulate that.

*Quick update: my eyebrows are getting more full and luscious as I continue to leave them alone. I have had to have moments of recommitment, but it is all worth it.*

Now to the blog at hand. About four days ago I opened my trunk. No big deal. I closed my trunk. Apparently a big deal as it banged and bounced right back up. I tried a couple more times before starting to get upset. I slammed it hard, I pushed it soft, my husband helped me try, we dented the surface slightly (dang it), we got out tools and tried to see into the catch mechanism but could only get so far...at length we gave up. My sweet hubbie went to the store for bungee cords, we strapped it shut and I've been resisting the clench in my chest that happens every time I drive over a bump and hear my poor trunk lid bang.

Finally, yesterday -- after the weekend when no mechanic in their right mind works and after Monday when my preferred mechanic was too busy to see me -- I took my dear Luka in (that is the name of my car, in case you were unaware). Scott (the mechanic) poked around and pulled and took the inside cover out of the trunk lid and had me pull the cable release by the driver seat while he pulled on the cable in the back, and we decided the cable is a little gummy inside somewhere and just got good and stuck. He disconnected the cable while we decided what more to do. It was after work so I was hungry and he was probably ready to go in (he works out of a shop in his back yard) so I was trying to think of how we could shorten things. I came up with the plan of calling it quits for now. I would let him look into it more when I brought it back to service in a month or two.

"In the meantime," I asked him, "could we just leave it disconnected? I mean, the button on my key ring still works to open the trunk, right?"

We tested it and verified that, indeed, the mechanisms that work from the button and the cable are independent. Good. This led me to thinking what might happen if for some reason my button stopped working.

"As long as your batteries (meaning the one in my car and the one in my key-ring button) work it should be fine." He told me.

I looked down at my key-ring and pondered the battery and how much time it would take to replace should it need replacing since, as the consummate planner, I was already thinking ahead to such an eventuality.

"What if this battery dies?" I ask innocently enough.
Wait a beat...like he did.

"You could always use the key."

Oh my, I totally started to laugh, and he, good-natured man that he is, laughed along. The key? No duh! And yet, when is the last time I used a key in a trunk? I don't think I've ever used a key to open Luka's trunk in our entire life together. In fact, earlier, when Scott had me pull out my key so he could test the trunk latch with it, I didn't get what he wanted me to do with it. And when I did put it in the keyhole it felt so foreign. So, in my defense, it is understandable that using the key wasn't the first thing to pop into my mind...but it did make me feel quite spoiled. At least I'm not like the girl I heard of in college who, when she didn't have a microwave in her apartment, couldn't figure out how to boil water. I will have you all know that I know perfectly well that to boil water when there is no microwave around you simply take in to your neighbor's house and use theirs.

kid thoughts

This morning I went into the office and got my cup and made my way to the water cooler, as I often do. I placed my cup beneath and pushed the cold water button until my cup was almost full. As I released the button a big bubble released and floated through the water in the tank to the top. It reminded me of how, when I was a kid, I would wonder just what combination of water volume extracted and speed of button pressing was needed to release bubbles. I must have liked the sound and sight of those big bubbles in the tank cause I remember sitting with a glass and pushing the button...short, long, again, just trying to figure out how to make it go.

I love thinking about how I thought of things as a kid. They don't really make sense now, or else I realize how off they were, but it's cool to me. I like knowing that I wondered and tried to figure things out. It's like I'm proud of my younger self for being inquisitive.

Like the times I remember watching the sun streaming in a big window so that you can see all the dust floating around in the air. I was fascinated to see little things suspended like that, seemingly only in the sunlight, and sometimes not so little. There were times I would, ever so carefully, try to capture a bigger dust glob in my hand, but when I opened my hand it would never be there. I realize now that I may have caught it but lighting would make it hard to see. Knowing that doesn't make me feel silly for trying, though, or for thinking the things I did. That's all part of learning and growing. It's gotta start somewhere and my kid thoughts served me well.

gotta blog

Alas, I apparently don't think of blogging much these days. For crying out loud, I missed all of June! Of course, to be fair, I did have mono and decide definitively that I am pregnant that month. So I may have been thinking a little more about sleeping and having a baby than blogging...so guess what you are going to get to read about should you choose to continue.

I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant...

I would have never thought it was possible to think one same exact thought so much as I have in the past couple of months. But there it is. My sister did warn me that would happen. It seems like you would know it, maybe do something about it, and then not think about it much. Maybe I think about it a lot because things (mostly my body) keep changing. Like, if you are starting a new class you are excited about you might think of it a ton leading up to and as it starts, but then it becomes normal and you don't think about it much. However, I am beginning to feel like my body is changing everyday. It makes me a little nervous because I've been taking my time when it comes to maternity wear and preventing stretch marks, and I'm a little afraid that I will wake up one day, go to get dressed and realize that nothing fits me. Then I'll have to wear a towel as a skirt as I slink into the nearest maternity shop and try to find something more suitable.

It also fascinates me to experience the feelings and thoughts I am having. I'm pretty sure they are different than what I might experience with a second child. Just a little bit of the deer-in-the-headlights sensation mingled with I've-just-won-some-money-but-don't-know-where-it's-hidden.

But then, I've always been apprehensive of new adventures. So I plan and study and prepare as much as I can to help me feel more grounded before the actual event occurs. I studied the high school map before my first day so I'd be able to make my way through the halls without looking too much like a freshman. I had three possible class schedules outlined before I dialed 10 minutes early to be sure I could register in college for the things I wanted. I had my sister translate 25 useful phrases into Spanish so that I might survive my first day in Spain. And now I am reading parenting books and researching the best belly butters. At least I have learned one thing. Every adventure I try makes the next one not only easier but more enjoyable. So bring it on Motherhood, I am not afraid.

turns out, I'm not crazy

So, today I got a little bored and wondered what in the world I could google for about five minutes. Many of you will know that I have had a habit for years of pulling out my eyelashes and eyebrows which seems like such a weird thing to do, but there it is. Well, is just so happens that the other day I got to pulling and before I could stop myself had yanked a nice healthy patch out of my right eyebrow. Dang it. So just for the heck of it I googled "I pull out my eyebrows." Links actually came up and, can you believe it?! I am not alone.

Turns out there is a condition called "trichotillomania." Basically it's an impulse disorder where people compulsively PULL OUT THEIR HAIR! I am not even kidding. Often it starts when they are young and they don't really mean to, and often aren't thinking about it when they do pull. It's more common in women and is generally linked to an affinity for repetitious and minute movement. They often have other picking behaviors. Pulling behavior is often linked to depressed or stressful states like a way to cope or something.

Isn't that crazy! Can you believe how so much of that is me? If you can't I will enumerate the ways.
1. I have carried around nail clippers for years and could fiddle with my cuticles for hours (and have progressively gotten better at leaving them alone before they start to bleed). I also think it's fun to examine my hair and use my clippers to chop off any split-ends.
2. I've never really minded doing repetitive tasks (as long as I can be thinking about something else, anyway), like that job I had stuffing envelopes at Citibank. I was so good at that and actually kind of enjoyed it. Just yesterday Ty was musing at how content I was to do Sudoku-like puzzles for like ever and saying he could never cause it's just so tedious.
3. I like to peal stickers off of everything (although this is partly cause I like the clean look of packaging minus labels), and have always liked unpicking knots...especially really messy ones.
4. I was kind of anxious as a kid and have a history of physically manifesting internal angst (shingles one year, acne another, etc.) so it totally makes sense that I could have done something like pulling in response.
5. I only sometimes even notice I'm doing it, I don't usually notice until I've just pulled out like 12 hairs (which in your eyelashes is a lot). Ty has had to train me out of unconsciously rubbing his shirt or pant leg til he got annoyed enough to ask me to stop.
6. I used to pull everything: arm hair, earlobe fuzz, head and face hair, etc. I leave most of them alone these days, and will hopefully soon kick the eye-hair habit. Gratefully, I've never been extreme. Some people will pull huge chunks from their head and get wigs or else pull out all their eyebrows and end up painting them on.
7. When I was living with my Aunt Deanna she used to tell me I was gonna go bald with all the pulling I would do on my hair. I've only ever pulled already loose strands (thank goodness), but I still had a dream one night that I had pulled out all the hair from the top of my hair. That was scary.

I'm just kind of surprised right now at how good it feels to discover this. It's kind of validating and gratifying to find out that I'm not the only one on the planet who does this and that there's actually a name for it. And I feel like knowing its name will help me finally get over it. From now on when I get the urge I will not think my eyebrow itches or that I'm allergic to my mascara, I will just think, "It's only my trichotillomania acting up," then I will leave it alone and get on with life. And I'll have those fantastically full eyebrows that my husband loves and that I've really always wanted.

P.S. I super love this picture.

memories

I was thinking about my honeymoon last night, or rather, something reminded me of it. But we'll get to that.

I was thinking about how one day Ty and I found ourselves at Sunset Beach at what happened to be sunset. It was incredibly picturesque with a few surfers out on the water, glorious waves crashing, and just enough clouds to sprinkle a little bit and make the horizon that much more beautiful. I'll tell you what, though, where we were the beach did not have little rippling wavelets. It had great crashing waves and a steep enough shore to make undertow a definite possibility. But we were in Hawaii, on a beach, and were running out of days, so we decided to swim (Ok, Ty decided and I somewhat grudgingly followed. It was raining after all.). Here's what happened. The boisterous waves were a little scary looking but my burly brave husband dove in nonetheless, and dove at a very inopportune time. He totally got pummeled by a wave. I mean, seriously hammered. It took him a few more swells before he was reoriented and I was relieved I wouldn't have to call on my life guarding experience and pull him out. It was really quite the adventure.

Turns out that every wave on that tummultuous beach was loaded with sand and that night Ty could feel he had sand in his ear and tried and tried to get it out, but there is really only so much you can do. I think we got a few grains out. Oh, and they are really really big grains too. About four times in the intervening months Ty has turned to me and said, "Look at what just came out of my ear!" and he has another huge grain on the tip of his little finger. Every time this happens I think it will be the last time. I mean, we've been home for a good six months!

Well, the other day Ty got sick. So sad, but so nice that I can be there to take care of him. We've decided that that is another definite bonus to being married. No more wondering if you have the strength to get out of bed and visit the doctor or make yourself some food or tea. We get to have someone there to help and keep us company! So great. But anyway. Ty was sick enough that we decided to go to a doctor. We went last night and after sending a nose swab to check for the flu, the doctor was doing some other routine checks and happened to look inside Ty's right ear.

"Do you put things in your ear?"
Out comes the story of Sunset Beach, after which the doctor gets a little tool and proceeds to extract approximately 13 big grains of sand from Tyrone's ear canal. Can you believe it! And she didn't even take them all out since some were so close to his ear drum that she didn't want to risk it. Oh man, we and she and the intern who was there had a pretty good laugh over that. What a souvenir to bring home from Hawaii. They certainly didn't check for that at customs.

This is about how much sand got hammered into Ty's ear that day. :)

going to bed

It is interesting the things you learn while being married. Particularly things about preference. The simple fact is that the way we do most things really has very little to no reference to whether that way is better or faster or whatever than any other way, we just do it like that because we like to...it is our preference. And it's amazing how many things don't really make any logical sense, you just like it like that.

For example, my husband and I have found that I like small cups, but big spoons while he likes big cups and small spoons. He gets hot more easily than me, yet I tend to take colder showers (he can turn it hot enough to scald a small child). I am somewhat picky about the water I drink and can taste differences, while he rarely gives it a second thought. I look forward to going to bed and he dreads it.

This brings me to another thought. It fascinates me how some people think of sleep as a waste of time. Some time ago I noticed this and started asking people, "If you had to give up either eating or sleeping, which would you choose." (Feel free to comment and tell me your answer, I'd love to hear.) I am surprised whenever anyone says sleep cause I would pick food hands down. In follow up questions it seems to be almost unanimous that people who would give up sleep love the idea of having that much more time to do things or get things done. However, that is just what I love about sleep! It is eight hours in everyday when no one can bug you about getting anything done, eight full hours of non-accountability and even commendable idleness. Fantastic! Why on earth would you want to give that up?

Maybe I can understand the sentiment a little, cause one reason I sometimes wish I didn't have to eat is because I could use that time doing other things. To me, eating is a waste of time...and those are hours I am accountable for and I actually need to be getting things done. I mean, I enjoy food by and large, it's just that I think eating should be a leisure activity, like reading or snowshoeing. It doesn't have to be done everyday or even on a schedule, but just when it's convenient and you want to. I could totally go for an arrangement like that. Yeah, that's it, I've decided. If I ever make a world, eating will be a leisure activity...and I'll still look forward to going to bed.

you are never too tired to dance

So, we went and saw MC Hammer! If nothing else, I love saying that. My sister, some of her friends, my husband and I went to the concert at a little after 8. The first band on was a local band of pretty young people doing an 80's rock thing. I love their name, "Love You Long Time." They were fun.

Then there was about two hours of down time while Vanilla Ice's crew decked the stage out in all kinds of death or wacko paraphernalia. Seriously Ice, I think you could have been just as well received without the Grim Reaper in red. Not that it was totally wasted time. They played music throughout and I got tired trying to keep my stomach engaged so that my back wouldn't be sore the next day (I'm happy to report that it wasn't). I wasn't too surprised that I didn't like his stuff, Vanilla Ice was never my cup of tea. He seemed to have a good time, though, and lots of people were screaming for him, and I'm happy that he's been able to kick his drug habit and the only beverages on stage appeared to be bottled water. Then, he was performing in Orem, UT...he could just have a well-informed manager. My husband and I spent most of his set resting up and re-hydrating in preparation for Hammer (except, of course, for during "Ice Ice Baby").

Then MC Hammer took about 20 minutes to set up. More like un-set up, since really he didn't have a lot of stage accouterments...or any, they basically took down everything that had been put up by Ice which left a whole lot of dance space...ooooooh yeah.

Just a side note: I find that some people are unimpressed when an entertainment has minimal props. Maybe it's that I grew up in Vegas where every show is engorged with embellishments that has taught me to be jaded when it comes to stage decoration, or perhaps I have more refined taste, either way I tend to really like shows or plays or whatever that don't have tons of props. I think it creates focus on the performers and brings out their performance in a way that is typically pleasing. But that's just me.

Then Hammer and company danced their way through a whole fun set of mostly old hits and a few recent things. I'm not gonna lie, I was jumping up and down and doing the hand motions to "2 Legit 2 Quit" right along with the best of them. I love dancing! And I really did dance to MC Hammer a lot back in the day. And it's been sooooooo long since I have really gotten to do it, so I was all over the place and had a great old time pointing out to all the company any dance moves that were still used from his original videos. And I was thrilled to see all his company were FULLY clothed. Hallelujah!

The only thing that wasn't all that great was the down time between numbers, but I wouldn't blame the performers for just needing a second or two to rest in between each song. Even the down time ended up being kind of fun, though, when Hammer would start into some intro that would kind of hint at what the next song was going to be. Of course "You Got to Pray" was the easiest to guess.

My only regret is that he didn't sing "Have You Seen Her." I loved that one, but it is all slow and romantic and this was not a slow and romantic concert.

In the end I had a really great time and am glad I went. We drove home tired and were happy to get to bed...and I think I danced to Hammer all night in my dreams.

hammer time

This very weekend I will revisit a golden era in my childhood...the era of MC Hammer. Some of you may not be fully aware, but I was addicted to Hammer for at least two weeks. We had a VHS video of a bunch of his music videos and, not only would I watch it, I danced along. I learned most of my dance moves from those hours spent hopping around in the living room with Hammer and his voluptuous backup dancers bouncing around on the TV screen. And this weekend I get to relive it all again because we, my sister, husband, and I will be attending a concert with MC Hammer and Vanilla Ice at UVU in Provo, UT. Yes, life really can be this good.

footprints in the snow

Snow makes the world just a little more interesting. Like the other day. I'd been to the grocery store, had purchased my items and bundled up before starting the cold trek across the parking lot. There was about an inch and a half of fresh snow on the ground. It's newness in the dark lot, with pools of light from the pre-meditatively placed light poles, gave a clean and mystical feel to the place. I strode purposely toward my car, but pulled up within sight of it...there were footprints in the snow. They seemed to waffle around my car's trunk a bit and then move off toward the door to the store from which I had not just come. A moments flash of self defense techniques flew through my mind, and I felt my chest cinch as my breath was held for the merest of moments. Those moments lasted only as long as it took me to recall that I had put those footprints there. I had, in fact, gotten out of my car, and put some things in my trunk before walking off to just the door toward which those footsteps were bound. I took a breath and grinned at myself. Shaking off the moment's panic I continued toward my car, and at the same time, got a better look at those footprints. I knew they were mine, yet something still told me they weren't. Perhaps it was how beautifully they were placed, the slight but graceful turn out of the toes, or just a residual effect from my instant of fear. Whatever it was, something between my rib cage and my belly button told me that those footprints, so surprisingly elegant, weren't mine at all. Maybe they were put there by some little winter sprite who artfully placed them just so before hiding behind another car to watch. Watch for me as I came across the lot. Watch my face for the moment I would look up and notice his handiwork. The moment in which I would see the simple beauty, even in a mundane parking lot, of a trail of size 8 footprints meandering through the snow.

married valentines

Ok, first, I'm sorry that I soooo have not been keeping this blog up. What can I say? Facebook Scrabble has had me a little preoccupied. Second, sorry to keep bringing up the whole "I'm married" thing, but I just really love it and find that that is what I think about a lot these days. Don't worry, I'm sure I'll normalize someday.

In the meantime it is really fun to anticipate Valentine's Day with a husband, it's the first time for me and I am excited. Not that I think it's gonna be fantastically revealing or monumentally exciting or super out of the ordinary...I just love knowing that I have a Valentine. :)