Today's Significance

Today is an important day. Not because it's Halloween. Frankly, I don't care much for Halloween. It's a kid's holiday if you ask me. I never know what I should be, and I usually don't dress up. This year I wore jeans, a black shirt, and an orange sweater. I was one of two people in my office who didn't wear some sort of costume. And I'm okay with that.

The real significance of today is that Eric kissed me three years ago on this very day. And, whether or not you want the story, here it is-

The night before Halloween we went on a date. Eric took me to a nice dinner, and then we went to Abravanel Hall where we watched the Utah Symphony perform selected pieces from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. It was quite fantastic. Some time during the date, Eric finally got enough nerve to hold my hand. I knew he was working toward that, so I politely left my hands on my laps. After the symphony, we went to the Malt Shoppe where we shared a root beer float malt. Then he took me home.

The next day we had church. Naturally, we sat next to one another throughout the meetings. Then we went to our respective homes. Later that night Eric picked me up for Cousins' Dinner at his aunt and uncle's house. This particular aunt and uncle hosts dinner for all the college-aged cousins and their spouses/significant others once each month during the school year. Since that time, Eric and I have NEVER missed a cousins' dinner! It's one of my favorite times of each month- to gather with Eric's cousins who are SO cool for a night of random conversation and amazing food.

After the dinner, Eric and I went back to Willard's Place (the place where Eric lived). We looked at pictures from his mission and talked with the others that were there.

Then Eric took me to my apartment. Specifically, to the back porch, which was where he usually dropped me off. According to Eric, I was "begging to be kissed." And so he kissed me.

I don't think I was "begging" for it, but I was pleased nonetheless.

And that's that.

Big News

Today, Eric and I received some very exciting news. We received word that he was accepted to the University of Otago in Dunedin, New Zealand. We'll be moving there in February.

Meanwhile, here are some pictures of the city and school for your viewing pleasure:
This is the coast.

Here is the university.

Here is Baldwin Street. They claim it's the steepest street in the world.

Here is Dunedin Cathedral.

And here are some other old buildings in Dunedin.

This will be my first time to leave the country, and I am very eager to go!

Autumn

I know I've already written about how autumn is coming, but I'm doing it again. I'm just so excited! The weather is unbelievably pleasant lately- cool in the evenings, and entirely moderate in the afternoons.

The leaves are all changing colors, which is just beautiful The canyons are oh so pleasant.

Plus, this mountain lives in my backyard. Could I be any luckier?

Google Reader Rant

I use Google Reader. It aggregates all the blogs/websites that I read regularly into one place, and it brings in the text and photos of anything new on a blog. When I'm logged into my email I can check it. I could also check it by going to the site, but since I'm logged into my email at least 8 hours a day, I usually just check it through my email. I check it about seven million times a day. The key, here, is that to view my reader, I must be logged in to my Google account.

And this is where I have a bone to pick with Google Reader. I read four private blogs. These blogs do not come into my reader because I have to log into them with my Google account. Why can't Google Reader just pull in the feeds for these blogs? I'm logged into Google Reader anyway! It's the same log-in. This thing I do not understand.

So, Almighty Google. Fix this! It makes me crazy! I use Google Reader so that I don't have to go to 25 blogs to see what's new. All of that is brought to me with Google Reader. Except for the private blogs. I still have to go to those only to find out that nothing is new.

***I understand why people keep their blogs private. My beef is not with you. It is with Google. I will continue to go to your blogs, but I will wish they just came straight to me.

Earrings

My friend, Janssen, recently posted about girls piercing their ears and what an appropriate age is to do such a thing. The rule in my house was that you had to be 8. I didn't get mine done until I was 9, though.

Throughout the years I've been inconsistent about wearing earrings. Sometimes I'll wear them for months at a a time rarely forgetting to put them in, and sometimes I'll go for months at a time rarely remembering to put them in. Since I've been married I've been really good about wearing them, primarily because Eric likes them so.

I mostly wear small earrings, but I do have one pair of big, dangly ones. Actually, make that two pairs. I wore the other pair once, didn't feel right in them, and never wore them again.

I've been thinking lately, though, that I love wearing earrings. It's one of the perks to being a girl. I'm picky about what I wear, though, so I don't necessarily love shopping for earrings. And, my ears are sensitive, so I can only wear cheap ones for about 10 hours or else the skin on my ears turns red, itches, and peels off.

I look forward to getting old, accumulating earrings, and sharing them with my girls when they get their ears pierced. Eric thinks 8 is a little too young; I'll be working on that so by the time we have girls, they can get them pierced when they are 8, if they are so inclined.

New York Doll

We rented New York Doll from Netflix, and we watched it on Saturday night. Have I ever told you how I love Netflix and want to marry it? Well, I can't because I'm already married, and besides Netflix is a girl. I know this because it is organized and efficient.

But this post is about New York Doll, a documentary about Arthur "Killer" Kane, the bassist in the band the New York Dolls. After the band disbanded, Arthur went through some hard times and eventually joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This movie goes through the basic history of the band, Arthur's conversion to the church, and spends most of its time documenting the band's reunion in London.

I had heard great things about this movie, and I was very excited to see it. After all, what an interesting story. A man changes from life of drugs, sex, and rock'n'roll (literally) to a life of sexual abstinence outside of marriage, no alcohol, tobacco or illicit drugs, and church. I figured it was bound to be interesting.

It wasn't. The movie was well-made, I suppose. Many well-known artists were interviewed and the story-line itself was moderately compelling. But the movie itself just wasn't stellar.

I think it is because it's so difficult to get a sound bite from anyone who has been doing drugs for 30 years, which describes most of the interviewees.

A Mini-Rant

Ever since I've been married if ever I say I feel sick, the usual response is, "Maybe you're pregnant."

Ha. Ha. So original.

This is particularly bothersome when I am throaty-sick. When my throat feels swollen and sinus infection-y or Strepp-y. Usually, when I feel that way and say, "I feel sick." And somebody says, "Maybe you're pregnant." I want to say, "Yes, maybe there is a baby growing INSIDE MY THROAT!"

One time when I was sick I counted how many people suggested I was pregnant. I think it hit about 11 within about 4 days.

Usually now, when somebody suggests I might be pregnant, I just say, "Maybe I am. You never know." It's not as good as the line about a baby in my throat, but it will suffice.

Review: Roots by Alex Haley

I decided to read Roots because I'd heard it was good- good enough to have 24-hour-long mini-series made about it. And because there were two copies of it in the house. I figured it was probably pretty good.

Also, it was about genealogy, sort of. It begins seven generations before the author in Africa, with the author's ancestor, Kunta Kinte, born about 1750. The book is about 730 pages long, and the first 250 of that is spent in Africa or on a boat to America. Haley did an amazing job recreating village life for Kunta as well as describing the ship ride to America.

The book had an amazing flow, and I found myself completely captivated by all the characters. I wanted Kunta's life in his African village of Juffure to continue, but I knew that he had to be captured into slavery at some point.

Kunta's life as a slave is just as interesting as his life in Juffure. I found myself immensely happy for him when he finally married and had a baby. Every joy he experienced and every pain he felt were very real to me, probably more than I have ever felt in any book. This continued with all the characters, not just Kunta.

About half-way through the book, the narrative switches to Kunta's daughter, and I really began to wonder how Haley was possibly going to write about six more generations with only half the book left. As it turned out, Haley mostly focused on the major events and left the details out- perhaps because much of slave life was so redundant and was pretty well summarized within the narrative about Kunta.

The story continues through the Civil War, and from there just becomes mostly a summary. I would have liked to have learned more details about all of the ancestors, but the book is pretty long as it is.

In the final chapters Haley describes his journey to discover his ancestors. He talks of the importance of oral history and how he was able to confirm the stories that had been passed down through two hundred years of ancestors' telling and re-telling of the events. I was completely captivated with the lives of Haley's ancestors; I was enthralled with his journey to discover his past.

This book is a fantastic read. Everyone should read it. Go get it right now.

The Simpsons

As you may or may not know, Eric works with mentally handicapped people. He manages an apartment with 3 high-functioning guys. He also works as the "crisis manager." A crisis can be anything from a client freaking out and staff needing help or simply a staff shortage. Any time there is a crisis, Eric gets a phone call, and then he calls the person on call that day to go take care of the situation.

Monday is Eric's night on call. He had to take care of a guy named Jeff. For some reason, Jeff does not live in an apartment with other guys; he lives with his mom, and a few nights a week somebody from Chrysalis (the company that Eric works for) takes care of Jeff to give his mom some time off. Jeff is really easy to get along with. He loves to go to stores and wander around looking at everything. His verbal skills are very limited, so it's usually best to ask him yes or no questions. This particular night Eric was assigned to keep Jeff occupied out of the house all evening.

Following an afternoon of taking Jeff to his job as a custodian at a local school, then going on a hike, Eric decided to take Jeff for a quick bite to eat and to see the Simpsons Movie at the local dollar theater. Eric called me as I was leaving for work and asked me if I wanted to join them. I agreed that that would be a fun thing to do. Eric bought the tickets, and told me to meet him at a restaurant by the theater.

When I found Eric at the restaurant, he was sitting in the car with Jeff, so I got in as well. Eric informed that they had sat down, and the waitress was just about to bring the chips and salsa when Jeff inexplicably got up and left. He refused to go back inside.

So, I suggested we go to Sonic instead. "Jeff, do you want a hamburger?" "YUM!" Jeff shouted in reply. (Jeff doesn't really talk. He shouts. Sort of like some of my old roommates. No concept of volume control.)

We went to Sonic where Jeff rushed to the bathroom and remained. For a good five minutes at least. When Jeff emerged from the bathroom we noticed there had definitely been an accident.

Eric wasn't really sure what to do, so we finished eating and headed to the movie theater. And Jeff went straight for the bathroom again. I went and found us seats, since the previews were already playing. A few minutes later, Eric came in and informed me that Jeff wouldn't come into the movie.

I had the choice of watching the movie by myself or going with Eric to take Jeff home. I opted for watching the movie alone.

I had never done that before. It was quite an enjoyable experience. I'd like to do it again sometime. The movie was funny, but I'm glad I only paid a dollar for it.

Eric came back for the last 15 minutes or so, and then we went home.

When Eric told his boss about the whole ordeal, the boss said the company would pay to clean the car since the seat had gotten spoiled. Eric readily agreed.

Now our car is cleaner than it has probably ever been- detailed and all. But it smells like pine. Not like real pine. But like cleaner that wants to smell like pine.

It makes me ill.

And that is the rambling story of how I watched a movie in the theater alone for the first time.

Winning Counts

Each week the folks in our office guess the score for the upcoming BYU football game. After each game, one guy tallies up everybody's guesses and sends an email giving us the standings. We didn't start guessing until the third season of the game. That game happened to be against Tulsa, and both teams scored a lot of points. I tied two girls who don't care about football for last place. I was bummed.

Since then I have done much better. Twice my guess has been only 3 points off. I am currently ranked in the top five, and this makes me happy. To my knowledge, there is no prize to be won, just pride. And pride is good enough for me.

The funny thing is, though, that when I watch the BYU games, sometimes I end up hoping the other team will score just a little bit more, to put their score closer to my guess. On Saturday while watching the BYU vs. UNLV game I was pleased as punch when UNLV scored a touchdown with the extra point in the last quarter, bringing them to 14 points, which was my prediction for them. It's not that I really want the other team to score, it's just that I want to beat my co-workers. Ultimately, I'm sure I would be happy as a lark to have BYU shut out another team, but I would feel a little pang of remorse that they hadn't scored closer to my estimate.

Two Worst Parts of my Day

1. Getting out of the shower. I hate stepping out of the hot shower into the cold bathroom, which actually isn't cold but feels like it is because I'm completely wet. I like bathrooms with heat lamps for this reason. Or else bathrooms that are also laundry rooms. That way I can put my towel in the dryer and then pull it out when I hop out of the shower. I usually prolong my shower just so I don't have to get out of it. That's how much I dread the stepping out of the shower.

2. Getting out of bed. My bed is warm and cozy. Being awake is not. I rarely get enough sleep, so getting up is even worse. On the weekends when I sleep in, I usually stay in bed reading as long as my bladder will allow. And then I go back to bed. Because I LOVE my bed. So soft. And cozy.

Today was a bad morning. I hardly slept last night. I woke up repeatedly for absolutely no known reason- not the kind of waking up where I roll over and go back to sleep, but the kind where I wake up and lie there wondering why the heck I'm awake. Bah! THEN Eric got called into work at 6:00 this morning which made me want to hurl his stupid phone at the wall. So when 7:20 rolled around, I spent 10 minutes hem-hawing about whether or not I was going to go into work on time. At 7:30 I decided I may as well just get up because I wasn't sleeping anyway, and I was out the door by 7:45.

I hate mornings.

Moody Weather

It's autumn.

I know this because the leaves are changing colors. The mountains are turning red toward the bottom, and the tops are becoming white with snow.

In the mornings it is chilly enough to merit a sweater, but in the afternoons it it is warm enough to merit flip-flops. Sweaters make me feel cozy and smug. Yes, I mean smug, like a rich person wearing her turtleneck while drinking hot chocolate and cozying up with a book in front of a fire. Flip-flops make me feel care-free and relaxed. I like both of these feelings, and I get both of them during this time of year.

The weather is cool enough in the middle of the day to be running weather, if I liked to run, which I do not. I think about, and sometimes actually do, go on walks.

On Sunday we took a walk up Provo Canyon. The leaves were a great array of colors, bright yellows, mellow oranges and deep reds. Plus the occasional bland browns. The browns I know will be here all winter. And I dread the browns.

But, I do look forward to the sweaters. And the flip-flops after that.

Road Rage

Just a few points about driving-

You are supposed to pass on the left.

If people on your right are passing you, then you are going too slow, and you need to move over to the right lane.

The point of the HOV lane is for you and your car-mates to whiz past the other drivers while pointing at them and saying, "HA HA! We are going faster than you AND we're saving the environment. So long, suckers!" If you are in the HOV lane, and people in the lane next to you are passing you, then you are going too slow. You are defeating the above-mentioned purpose of the HOV lane.

Are We Related?

An exciting thing is happening soon with FamilyLink. FamilyLink is a social networking tool for genealogists, and it is owned by World Vital Records. The people who are in the World Vital Records demographic generally have no idea what "social networking tool" means, even if we try to explain it as "Facebook for genealogists." For most of the people who do genealogy, Facebook is something their kids and grandkids use. We usually end up explaining FamilyLink as "a way to connect with other genealogists. You can find people searching the same surnames or localities as you, and you can find people who live in the areas where you are researching. You can also upload GedComs and pictures and share them with your families and friends."

To help promote FamilyLink, our CEO, Paul Allen, has really been pushing for the development of Facebook applications. Some time last week we launched the MyWill app which is really just a fun application where you can bequeath your belongings to your friends.

The app we're launching this week is much more exciting. It has a couple of major features. One is that it will allow you to go through all your friends and select the ones you are related to. You indicate how you are related. If they are using the app, then it will show you images of their family members and suggest that you might be related to them as well. This is a great feature because you may have cousins on Facebook that aren't on your "Facebook friends" yet. I started using the app on Wednesday, and then Eric added it on Thursday. As soon as he added me as a family member, he could see all the people I had added as my family members. He found about three cousins that he didn't have has friends. It was really cool!

The really cool, but rather complicated feature is that it will allow you to upload your family tree (in digital format, this is called a GedCom) and compare it with your friends to see if you are related. This will be especially cool among BYU students where so many people's ancestors can be traced to the early Mormon pioneers. I'm sure there are oodles of people who are distant cousins and don't even know it.

The biggest problem we can see is that most people won't have any idea where to get a GedCom that has their name in it. The process of creating a GedCom is rather tedious, and it's doubtful that very many people will want to go through the hassle. In helping Eric do the usability testing, we realized how difficult it would be.

If the Facebook user does not have a grandmother or somebody who can email them a GedCom with his/her name in it, the user will have to go to a deal of trouble to create one.

First, he will have to download Personal Ancestral File (PAF). It is free from FamilySearch.org. (There are much better programs available, but they cost money). Then he will have to do some searches for his grandparents or great-grandparents on FamilySearch, download those GedComs, and import them into PAF. Then he'll need to add the people up to the point where he has downloaded the files. For example, if Eric downloads GedComs with each of his grandparents as the root persons, he will still need to add his parents and himself. That really isn't that difficult, but for somebody who has just barely downloaded PAF, it can be pretty tricky! Then the users would save the compiled GedCom he has just created and upload it to the Facebook app.

I'm pretty sure most people won't want to bother.

And so, my friends, I am offering this service to you. If you want to use the Facebook app, but you don't know how to download (or don't want to bother downloading) GedComs, importing them into PAF and so forth, I WILL DO IT FOR YOU!!! Shoot me an email or comment on my blog, and I will send you the appropriate questions so I can see what I can find for you that is already online.

Folks, I'm offering free research here. I really want this application to succeed.

The application will be launched some time this week, but the ability to compare GedComs may not be available for a few more weeks. Wouldn't it be sweet if you could compare your GedCom with your friends' GedComs as soon as that features is available? (The correct answer is "Yes.")

If you're my friend on Facebook, I'll invite you to the app as soon as I'm allowed to.

My Personal Battle with War and Peace

The summer before my senior year of high school I happened to wake up rather early one morning, like 8 o'clock. Being the teenager that I was, I went immediately to the living room to find something to watch on television. Thankfully, by this point in my life I was completely finished watching MTV day in and day out during my summers. As I flipped through the channels I happened upon the American version of War and Peace with Audrey Hepburne. It was just beginning. I had seen bits of it before when my mom was watching it. I didn't see much though, because I detest watching movies in bits and pieces. I want to see the whole movie or no movie. If I've seen the movie before, I don't mind jumping in and out, but otherwise I don't want to even miss 15 minutes of a movie.

So, I sat down to watch the long film. I remember sitting on the couch waiting for a good time when I could run to the bathroom or run to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal, but there were no commercials, and I just couldn't bear to leave. The film had completely captured me. Eventually there was an intermission, so I had time to run around and take care of things and then return to my movie. I was completely enraptured. I knew by the time the movie was over that I needed to read War and Peace.

That opportunity came very soon thereafter. My senior English teacher assigned us to choose a classic novel and write a literary analysis of it. As our class wandered through our insufficient library, I found a few books that looked good. One of them was War and Peace. I hesitated only because of its length. (I don't remember how many pages, but it's loooooooong). Eventually, I convinced myself that I could do it, and I selected the book as my topic.

I really enjoyed reading the book, but wow! it took a long time. I read voraciously, but I didn't quite finish it in time. My rough draft was due. I was not even close to finishing the book. For my first three years of high school I had the same English teacher, and she was content to let us turn in pretty much anything for a rough draft. She said an outline was sufficient, but it was really to our own detriment that we didn't write our papers sooner. I was a procrastinator then (I still am sometimes), so I rarely actually wrote a rough draft. It was almost always just a detailed outline. Besides, that's just the way I write papers. I think and think and think. Then I sit down and write. But, I digress.

I turned in my "rough draft" which was actually a sketchy outline. When I got it back, it had a big, red "F" on it. "Oh dear," I thought. "I'm going to have to get an "A" on my real paper if I want to not get a "C" this six weeks."

I continued to voraciously read the book. The paper was due the Monday after Thanksgiving break. I spent Wednesday and Thursday of the break working at the grocery store. I took my book with me so I could read it on my breaks. On Friday and Saturday I went out of town with my family. I took my book and read, read, read. I finished the book Sunday afternoon.

Then I began making the outline a paper. I worked all night. Literally. I didn't go to bed. I wrote until 5:40 when I realized I needed to wake up my brother to take me to early-morning seminary. After seminary I cleaned up the paper a bit and printed it. My friend picked me up for school at about 8:10, and we were off to school. My paper was complete, and I was completely exhausted.

I can count on one hand how many high school classes I NEVER slept in. And yet, that Monday, I couldn't sleep in any of my classes. I was so exhausted, and yet I could not get to sleep for the life of me. I went all day with no naps whatsoever.

Then I went home and went to work. I was scheduled to work until 10:30, but I got a friend to switch with me so I could leave at 10. I didn't make it to seminary on Tuesday morning.

And that is the story of my reading War and Peace. Also, it is the story of my first and only (to this point in my life) true all-nighter.

By the way, I LOVED the book, and I got an "A" on the paper, and "A" for the six weeks grading period.

At least we have a car

Today, somebody accidentally didn't shut his/her (his) door as he/she (he) exited the car. This caused the overhead light to remain on all day. And the battery died.

The car was in my work parking lot (which is conveniently across the street from where Eric spent his entire day). When Eric came to get me from work I asked around the office to see if anybody has jumper cables. Even though I say we need to buy some every time our car battery dies because somebody (usually me) leaves the lights on, we still do not have jumper cables. One guy suggested that we just pop the clutch. Eric had never heard of that, and I had only witnessed my mother doing it once when I was about 14. My co-worker came downstairs and helped Eric push the car into position. He and another guy gave the car a good push, and we were off.

One problem: the warning bell would not stop its incessant dinging.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. The whole way to the mall.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Even after we had stopped the car and made sure there were no lights on and such.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. The whole way home from the mall.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. The whole way over to Eric's friend's house, where we watched Episode 2 of this season of "The Office." Also, as we approached our friend's house we heard a noise that sounded like a flat tire. Eric got out and checked, but surprisingly, no flat tire. "Interesting," we thought.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. The whole time we watched the show (which was great for the first 45 minutes and completely ridiculous the last 15 or so).

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Weird noises. Thud. Yes, and that would be the tire officially going flat.

We put on our warning lights, pulled over and proceeded to change the tire. It took a while. When the professionals put on those bolts, they are too tight. Always. So tight that if I were by myself I would not be able to change the tire. Other than those tight bolts, I wouldn't have much of a problem. Those bolts are impossible for a tiny girl like me!

Eventually, the tire was replaced, and we got back into the car to find that the battery was dead again. The blinking of the lights and the dinging of the warning bell had exhausted the battery.

We used our new trick and popped the clutch for the second time today.

And you know what we didn't hear? Dinging. It's gone. Hooray!

Instead of taking the car in to get the dinging to stop, Eric will take it in to get new tires.

Who are you?

Apparently, today is de-lurking day in the blogosphere. At least, that's what Janssen says. And she's probably right. She used to be my roommate, and she is right about many, many things. Except mayonnaise. She's wrong about that. It is gross.

Lurking is what you are doing. Yes, you. You, the person who reads my blog and never comments. Now, I'm not expecting everybody to comment every time. But if you read my blog regularly, you should at least comment once or twice. I check my site meter, and there are people out there reading my blog, and I have no idea who they are. Somebody is in Turkey. Somebody else is in Idaho Falls. Somebody else is in Meridian, Idaho. I don't know who you are, and I want to know. A simple name will suffice. I realize that by having a blog I am opening myself up for anybody in the whole world to read my words, but please satisfy me and just tell me who you are.

If you feel dumb putting a comment that says, "I read your blog." You can answer one of these two questions:

• Where are your ancestors from, primarily?
• Do you have any ancestors who did cool things? (Not that they had to be famous, but that they did something cool, or had something cool happen to them).

The end. Stop lurking.

Mail

Yesterday I went and got my mail from our last place of residence.

We got lots of junk, of course. Credit card offers. More credit card offers. Last chance credit card offers. The usual.

We also got our copy of the October 2007 Ensign. And one other really cool thing. . .


My diploma. The real, bona fide, true-blue diploma certifying that I have received a B.A. from Brigham Young University.

It just may be the coolest piece of paper I have ever gotten.

After I admired it for about thirty seconds, I put it back in its cardboard envelope and put it away somewhere. I wonder when I will look at it next. Maybe one day when we have an office and I feel like framing it. But for now, it's nice just to know I've got it.

Official Utahn

Today was a big day. I went to the Orem DMV and got a Utah Driver License. I'm officially a Utah resident. And I changed my voter registration to Utah. (Democrat, in case you were wondering).

My picture wasn't as good as my Texas DL picture, but it's good enough. Probably most importantly is that I know have the correct name on my driver license. Now when I buy a plane ticket I can purchase it with my married name instead of my maiden name.

And now I can go get a passport. I wonder how long it will take me to get around to doing that.