Firsts

I love first times, don't you? I've been thinking about Christmas, and how it was more exciting when I was a child, and I would wait up at night because who can sleep while they wait for Santa to come down the chimney? I think I convinced myself that heard his sleigh land on the roof and the bells jingling on his reindeer. Christmas was magical.

And firsts are sort of magical that way, don't you think? I remember the first time I got to fly. I was nineteen! So our family trips didn't include flying anywhere because who can afford tickets for seven children? Anyway, I was terrified and excited and really just so nervous since I was going by myself on the first leg of the journey, and I did not have one little clue about what to do or where to go, but when that plane took off! Wow. You just don't know what power is until you feel yourself being hurtled up into the air like that. Not to mention in was my first trip to the East where I got to see Boston, New York and D.C. all in one trip. And I'm pretty sure that trip changed my life because I just knew I wanted to live there. And I did!

I remember my first kiss and how nervous I was because I totally knew it was going to come, and I had waited for what seemed like an eternity for David Gallman to just get it over with and kiss me already. I was eighteen when that happened. What can I say? I'm a late bloomer, I suppose.

I also remember the first real teaching gig I landed. And the air conditioning was out at Annandale High School and I was wearing my brown a-line skirt from the BR with a white, button-down. I can still feel the way the sweat was trickling down my back and how I was sure I would be so nervous but when I stood up, I didn't feel any different than I did on any other day. It was so natural to be a teacher.

I remember that I wanted and wanted to go to Europe my whole life, and then I got to go, and I can still see us all piling into the Yukon, Dawn driving up to the house with all of her things right on time which was so not like my Dawn-O. I remember almost passing out when we got off the plane because I hadn't slept at all and was feeling the need for fresh air and my mom and Dawn had to grab me before I fell down. But man oh man, was England the greatest! Seeing a real live castle for the first time, crossing a moat to get inside, seeing it in all it's ruined glory. The green fields...London...the train to Edinburgh, Scotland!!! It was like my grown-up Christmas.

And I could go on forever about all those things that happen for the first time in my life and how perfect, exciting, scary and wonderful they are. And it makes me want more firsts in my life. I want to feel that excitement about something that I felt when I was small, and Christmas came around and I was sure that Santa was in by the tree, laying out all the presents and filling up all the stockings.

Parallel Lives

Sometimes when I am pondering about how my life has gone and how it has not gone, I like to kick back and think for a moment about another me. I have told you over and over and over again then things I do not have in my life and oh the great distress it causes unto my heart, so I won't do that today.

Today, I will tell you that sometimes I like to believe there actually is a parallel universe out there in the world, just like some of those super smart physicists believe...the rockety science minded people who grasp onto string theory and actually get physics and calculus and geometrical angles and how to make a universal remote actually do its job. I'm not sure my vision of a parallel universe is what they might have in mind, but whatever. This isn't some science treatise, anyways Tina! It's pretty much a made up idea of the other me and what she does.

Here's what I think. Life is unfair, man. It is. Good folks with stable lives and stable marriages can't have babies, and yet young, naive fifteen-year-old girls get preggers left and right. People do some mean stuff to nice peeps who are just your average law abiding citizenry and what not. Others get horrible diseases even though they didn't deserve those diseases. But it seems like some people get to live ultra special, happy, wonderful lives. Now I know we all have our own troubles, Charlie Brown. But I do think some people get super lucky in life, and I'm not quite sure I understand the inequality.

Anyway, so sometimes when I'm thinking of other people and their sparkly, happy lives (and just to be completely and entirely clear, I am NOT talking about celebs and the like...no I do NOT think the Kardashians live a charmed life) I think well, there is this other me out there in a parallel universe and she is living my charmed life, and I am living this hard one. And one day, when all is said and done, our lives will fuse back together, and I will know the charmed life, and she will know this one and because we are one, we will understand both.

And then it won't feel like I'm missing anything anymore. I will feel like my life is complete and whole and everything I hoped for...the husband, the babies, the white picket fence and the trips to Disneyland...all of it will be there as it has always been. I won't feel this empty hole in my life because all of that sadness will be swallowed up by a new understanding. And then it will be just as though all those charmed things, those sparkly, bright and happy things, happened, really happened.

Oh my, but this is sad. I didn't mean it to be that way. I thought it would sound happy to say it all out loud, but now that I've written it down, it seems rather morose, and it makes me feel sad.

I've Got to Read a Book

I can't imagine what's gotten into me lately. My appetite for reading has been voracious...up until about a month ago. And now I can't get myself to crack the cover of a book - any book at all. I have four or five sitting on my night stand. But there they sit...and sit...and sit. I really don't know why.

Today...to top things off, I'm not feeling great. I've had some kind of flu bug and I hurt all over. I haven't had much to eat over the last few days, so I really don't feel like writing too much. So guess what I'm doing??? I'm posting an old book review. And I'm committing to read a book this week! Or two. Because I have a goodreads goal of 54 books this year, which means I have to read ten books before the year ends! YIKES!!!

This particular review is short...but I loved this book. And I look forward to reading another Melina Marchetta since I have a particular affinity for her style and voice. This particular book is a bit confusing and deals with some very grown-up problems. Nonetheless, it was well worth the read and most certainly a favorite.

On the Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchetta

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


Finally a piece of young adult fiction I can get on board with. Well written, endearing characters...dare I even say characters with depth, a plot with tension and resolution that moves forward realistically. I could go on, but I'll spare any extensive details. I think what I loved most about it was that it was smart and the lives of the people in it felt authentic and fair. Too many YA novelists turn their teenage characters into stereotypes - sex crazed, foul mouthed, drug fiends or goody-goody two shoes without backbone or substance. That isn't to say that these things don't exist in the lives of the characters because they do. But those things don't dominate the story or the characters. I think the balance Marchetta hit was near perfect. Beyond that, the writing was fantastic. Loved her style. I highly recommend.



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Teaching

So I've been teaching R.S. for the past few months. Just once a month, mostly, although this month I taught twice...TWICE!! I love it. I do.

Anywho, so I was teaching this lesson on healing the sick from a talk Elder Oaks gave. And at first when I went to read the lesson, I thought "Ugh. I don't love this topic." I don't know why, really, but perhaps I thought it was exciting enough or glamorous or what have you. Maybe I really just thought it was boring, but I don't want to admit that because, well, it sounds horrible of me to think such things.

In any case, I was wrong. What's new?

Actually, as it turns out, the lesson answered some questions I've had about blessings. Because sometimes blessings of healing don't happen the way the words of the blessing say they will. As it turns out, the words of the blessing aren't key. Faith and God's will come first. Hmmm...so then why would the words say something contrary to God's will? Because we are human and we want what we want. I don't know why it was so comforting to me, but it was. For the first time, I felt like I got an honest answer to why certain miracles didn't happen. I can live with that.

So really, I guess when I go to prepare my next lesson, I won't have any preconceived notions about what it should or should not be about. Because usually, anyway, the lessons are for me more than anyone else anyway.

What Happens When I Don't Like a Book

I used to think that if I started a book, I had to finish it, and that was what I did when I read books. I always finished them. There were only two real exceptions to this rule.

The first was Beloved by Toni Morrison. It wasn't a particular dislike for the novel, but rather, I could not get past a particular vulgar description in the book, so I put it down right away. I've heard many good things about the book, and I can't say it was boring. I can say that I was only seventeen and too immature to read the story and appreciate it for what it was. I still don't know, even at thirty-five, if I can read that novel. So I probably won't.

The second was Jane Eyre, and obviously I was wrong. Once I was able to get through the first one hundred pages, I found a beautiful story.

So what do I do when I don't like a book? If the content is questionable in the context of the story, I usually put it down. What do I mean by "in the context of the story"? I mean that the questionable content is gratuitous and hardly serves the advancement of the story. There have been times, a la The Time Traveler's Wife, when I have finished the book anyway. That book is beautifully written, but if I were a time traveler and could go back in time, I would put it down. Because the content was gratuitous even if the story was excellent...and excellently told. I put down American Gods recently. I loved the idea of the premise behind the story...an uniquely American mythology. Fantastic idea! But when, in the first ten pages, I've skipped about half of them so as not to be offended by the sex, that means it isn't worth the read to me.

If I'm bored, I give it fifty to one hundred pages, depending on length. If it goes on and I cannot get into it, I say forget it. I used to think that was "bad" because maybe I'd be missing out. But I've learned that it's the author's job to captivate me and bring me into the story. If that doesn't happen within the first one hundred pages, it probably isn't going to happen, and I'm going to be disappointed in the end. It is not, however, my job to fall in love with a story that isn't well told, and I'm not obligated to finish stories that fall flat. So I don't finish them.

Now I know that just because I can't finish a book for whatever reason, that doesn't mean it's awful. It just wasn't great for me. It's the rare book that I think deserves to be burnt. Usually that is because it's poorly written and not worth the paper it's printed on and generally, I cannot believe that a publishing company thought it was worth their resources to print it.

I say all this because I've been looking at my ratings and bookshelves on goodreads. And I think that sometimes I'm harsh on writers when I want to be one myself, and I imagine how I'll react to future criticisms of my writing. I'm pretty certain that there will be those who don't like what I write and perhaps even hate it. I see authors who write reviews, and I wonder if they are going easy on the writer. I just want to be honest about what I think because my friends read my reviews.

And now I'm rambling. So the end.

A Shirt. And Some Soda.

So I can't believe this, but I cheated and I have to give up an item of clothing. I'm pretty sure I know what I'm going to give up because I like it enough, but I don't love it, and even a few months ago when I could wear it, I didn't pull it out of the closet that often.

HOWEVER...it is not really the shirt or the cheating. Because that happens. I can live with it, and I can live with giving up the piece of clothing for it. I'm pretty proud of myself for how well I've done so far, so I really don't feel awful. I ran this morning, even after my eight mile run/walk yesterday, and that is something to be proud of.

I'm disappointed in myself because I drank Coca-Cola. The real stuff. But I have to admit to the first slip-up. That happened on Halloween. I drank it on Halloween. I sort of ignored that it happened, and I promised myself I wouldn't do it again. I haven't had it since February of 2010. Basically, that means I went for twenty months (TWENTY months!!!) without it. And then in a moment of weakness I drank it. And then I did it again. The first time isn't a big deal, and I suppose that is why I ignored it. I'm worried that the second time is something more, though.

It's why I have to give up soda completely, and that is why it is my New Year's resolution to rid it from my life. Whether diet or otherwise, I think it is all a gateway that goes back to wanting Coke. I've done super well with my goals. This week has (as long as I'm admitting to stuff) been a bit of a vacation from some of those goals, but I've really stayed focused on the way I eat and the way I exercise. I am disappointed in that choice I made on Halloween, and I'm disappointed in the choice today. But it is most certainly not the end. It might have slowed my train just a bit, but by no means did it derail me.

Gobble Gobble

Well, it's the end of Thanksgiving. For this year, anyway. And I ate three pieces of pie...cherry (my absolute favorite), pumpkin (my second favorite...and the best with whipped cream), and apple. In my defense...I ran/walked a little over eight miles. I didn't eat breakfast - just a banana when I was done running. Then I waited for our one p.m. meal. I tried a little bit of it all, but I didn't eat too much of any one thing. I did eat a lot since there are like a million dishes on Turkey Day.

But what can you do? After all, it's a chance to be thankful for everything, including the bounty that was our dinner. Yum.

And I think it will be my new tradition to always run eight miles on Thanksgiving. I did it last year, and I loved it. It's much more fun when you are part of a Turkey Trot, and your two sisters-in-law run with you and you cross the finish line holding hands, I must admit. But still, this was a good way to start my day, outside and running along the river trail. Of course then, I don't feel so bad about stuffing my face.

Oh Thanksgiving, how I do love you. So a list of things to be grateful for:

1. Good health
2. Lots of food
3. A loving family
4. A testimony of Jesus Christ
5. Living in the United States of American...even with our troubles and such I wouldn't want to live anywhere else
6. Having lived in so many places in these United States of America...I've been in some awesome places
7. The troops who serve us so loyally
8. Pie
9. Good books and lots of them
10. Abundant opportunity

Happy Thanksgiving to ALL!

The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks

I am feeling so tired today. My brother and his family are here, and while I love them dearly, I'm exhausted since I haven't been able to sleep much. The baby has been in the bathroom sleeping and she wakes up in the middle of the night and jabbers away. Since the bathroom is in my bedroom...wow, let's just say that I haven't been in a bad mood like this in a long time, and I am doing my best not to let everyone know how grumpy I am. I get emotional, but I'm hardly every grumpy. Grumpy is something I got over several years ago.

Anyway, because I'm so tired, I thought I would post another older book review. I've made no secret that I adore most of E. Lockhart's books. I think this is my favorite thus far. I hope she comes out with something new...soon! And I would love it if she wrote another Frankie novel. It is soooooooo good!!!

The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks by E. Lockhart

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


E. Lockhart is quickly becoming my hero. I love her characters and her sense of style. Her young heroines are flawed, bold, funny, and definitely unique. I like it when a character comes alive. And Lockhart's characters are just that...alive.

So Frankie is dating the most popular boy in school. She's pretty and she's smart. But she has a few things to figure out about herself (like most sophomore high school girls do). Like what to do when your super hot, popular and even nice boyfriend wants you to be just adorable, naive, fun loving, easy going? Or what if you discover that you are clever and can be brash and bold but others expect something different of you, something quieter, more predictable? How do you balance wanting that super hot, popular, nice boyfriend with wanting to be true to who you are? Can you be true to both? Can you totally care for someone but recognize that they just aren't right for you and still be happy? Sort of reminded me of The Way We Were. A girl falls in love with a guy that she thinks could be everything she wants, but he seems fine with the status quo. He doesn't want the "more" that she cannot live without.

And that is what I loved about this book. Beyond the hilarious pranks that Frankie is able to pull off through the genius of her imagination and a little (or maybe a lot of) manipulation, Frankie has to make a difficult decision. She really struggles to figure out what matters most to her. I found I could totally relate to her. I think any girl who has wanted to be both - both the pretty, sweet, demure girl and the bold, smart, sassy girl - can relate. And since that is most women, I think that is what makes this a true feminist's book. It presents the dilemma honestly. Frankie isn't dating the biggest jerk on the planet, which I really appreciate. I don't like stereotypical "popular" boys who are bad and so obviously wrong for the "perfect" female protagonist. And Frankie doesn't come to the right conclusion every time. She fumbles around a bit while she's figuring it out. As a result, the conclusions Frankie comes to are a bit painful and left me feeling slightly uneasy in the end. I'm not sure I would have done the things that Frankie did. But I sure want believe I have the guts to do them.

That and I want more Frankie books :)!


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It's All About Turkey

I'm dying over here. So the night I went to see Breaking Dawn I allowed myself some treat action. And then I made the decision that I was going to work my magical powers of self-restraint really hard and I would NOT have any junk food until Turkey day. I've been trying my darndest, as I promised I would, not to eat sugar every day, and each time I stop eating it, I go one extra day.

I've never worked this hard to NOT indulge in the sugary goodness that is chocolate, cake, cookies, ice cream. I want the stuff, and it has been a trial of epic proportions to walk away from the freezer when ice cream is calling out or say no to the candy cupboard when I want to open it up and grab five handfuls.

BUT...the good news is that it is now Tuesday night, ten p.m., and I have one more day to go before Thanksgiving. Oh and then comes sweet blessed relief, I can eat some sugar.

I've never had to exercise my self control like this without giving in, and trust me, I have tried and, when the temptation is this strong, I always end up finding my way to the candy stash. So I say...I am proud. I've had times in the past where giving up junk food seemed to be so easy for me, and those are the best times. I'm grateful for the times where I can say no to indulging. I wish that I could be like that all of the time. But having these sorts of cravings and saying no to them anyway makes me feel like I can do this all the time. I don't mean giving up sweets forever. I just mean learning moderation. Because I tend to be all or nothing, I think it is good to learn that some/sometimes is better than all/all times or none/ever. You know?

I know that Thanksgiving is all about the TURKEY!!! But sometimes it's about the pumpkin pie that comes later! Happy Thanksgiving to all.

New Friends Are Silver but Old Friends Are Gold...

You can never have too many friends is what I say. I've made lots of friends over the years. There are friends from the BYU days...people I met in classes, in my wards, working at Brick Oven or even old roommates. There are friends from the Virginia years, and oh my those are some great friends. Like spending Thanksgiving week in Paris sorts of friends. There are the friends from Vegas who kept me sane in a city I did not love, and there are the friends from Jersey who helped me make it through law school. There are the lovely ladies of Texas, my Rockwall friends, who made me feel like I was a part of the club even if I wasn't married.

And all these friends mean so much to me...I am really lucky to know them.

But then there are the high school girls. I suppose when I was sixteen, and we were all starting to hang out together, I didn't know what they would come to mean to me. I didn't know when I went off to college that they would be the people I always came back to. When I hauled my booty off to Virginia, I didn't know that they would still call me, and write to me, and make dinner plans when I came to visit.

There were times that I believed we had outgrown each other. Sometimes we fought, and yes those fights even happened after we graduated from high school. Sometimes we lost track of each other along the way. At times, I think I wondered if it was worth the effort to maintain the friendships because I had so many new friends who were in my life , and I thought those new friends would be my best friends for life.

But there is something about shared history. No one gets me like these girls. Always we have the past with us, parties at Charmay's house, sleepovers at Dawn's or Adrienne's, high school football games, and weekends cruising around the hot spots in Provo (Taco Bell and Movies Eight) to find boys. There was country dancing every single weekend for about three years straight. There were road trips to Logan and the Ratrix and Village Inn. I remember going to dance performances...drill team competitions...Dawn's ballet. We've been to weddings and held new born babies and mourned with a friend who lost her husband too soon. There are thousands of memories and plenty of inside jokes.

I can't say that I wanted to come back to Utah, but if I had to, I'm so glad that I get to come back to these girls. It's amazing to me that I can sit down with any one of them...when we haven't seen each other in months or even sometimes a year or more...and yet we can talk like it was just yesterday that we were skipping classes and going out for a long lunch.

Oh yes, I am a lucky girl. I love all my friends but these girls, these girls, they are gold.

Random List...Gratitude

So, well, I'm pretty sure that I'm trying hard not to be bitter about life. And usually when I start to feel bitter, it's generally because I have tunnel vision. I can't see anything but what I do not have...and I start to think that things will never ever change. Which is generally silly because things are always changing. This particular random list is dedicated to being grateful for things that I'm trying not to be bitter about through memories of good things...things that prove that my life has not always been this way.

1. A really great job...
I wanted to teach when I graduated, a whole lot. And I was motivated to find a job doing just that, even if it meant that I had to make some scary sacrifices. I had to quit a good job for a temporary summer school teaching position, and then I had to cross my fingers and hope that it turned into something permanent. It didn't, but I was really blessed, anyway, because I got a job teaching at Annandale, and that was a blessing for a million reasons. So I am grateful because I did get my dream job, once upon a time.

2. A really nice guy...
When I was working at Brick Oven, I met this really nice guy. I can't remember much about him. I don't recall his name, even. And I don't know why it is that I think of this particular memory when it comes to guys since I can't remember much. I think it is because I remember how he treated me. He was so kind. He took me to the Olive Garden on our first date, and I remember feeling so comfortable with him. He was going to take me to Park City on our second date, but I got the flu and this bug was terrible. So he surprised me and came over with some soup and a note, and he spent the evening with me anyway, even though I must have looked terrible. I'm grateful for the nice guys of the world who think of ways to serve others.

3. A Car...
This might not have been the wisest choice in my life, but when I left Virginia, I wanted to sell my car. I thought that was the sign I needed that I was on the right track, and so I posted my car on Auto Trader. The car sold within two days. So then I got to Utah and got a job in Vegas, so I set out to find a new vehicle. I knew what I wanted, and I got it. I'm grateful that I had a car and the one I wanted. But I am more grateful that we get to make our own choices and that we aren't sheltered from our mistakes. It was not smart to sell the car in the first place, and it wasn't smart to buy a brand new car. But I think as mistakes go, it was a good way for me to learn about the choices I make. That and I am grateful that I could afford a car in the first place, I'm grateful I had the freedom to go where I wanted to go, and I'm grateful I had a job to pay for gas.

4. An apartment...
I loved my apartment in New Jersey. It was my own space. The other day I was looking through old pictures I took during finals one semester. And I didn't remember the stress of studying for countless hours. Instead, I remembered how much I loved coming home. My apartment was small, but it was cozy. I had a very comfortable couch, nice pictures on the walls, bookshelves full of novels and nick knacks. Mostly I just appreciate that it was mine. I am grateful for having such a nice roof over my head.

5. Today...
It isn't just things that I had in the past that I'm grateful for. I'm grateful for things I have now. I am grateful for a place to live and family members who take care of me. I am grateful for savings accounts, even if I didn't plan to use them before I retired. I am grateful for friends in Utah: for Leyah who is introducing me to a new circle of friends; for my girls from high school who are truly the best friends in the world...post about them tomorrow; for my friends from all the many places I've lived who are still my friends and who still call and write and look after me. I'm grateful for the ward I'm in now...my childhood ward. I honestly love these people. They are good and kind, and they love me. I am grateful for my medication because I'm starting to feel normal again. I'm grateful for exercise exercise exercise. I'm grateful for the people who have met with me about finding a job, those who have asked me to send on my resume, those who have found jobs that I can apply to, and all those who pray for me to find something. I'm grateful for the encouragement from Carol, Dawn, Leah and others who've been encouraging me and my goals. I'm grateful to teach Relief Society, and I love the sisters in the Leland Ward.

See, lots to be grateful for...lots!

Romancing Miss Bronte

Lately when people have been asking for recommendations, I've been telling them to read Romancing Miss Bronte. I love this book for so many reasons, mostly because I feel a kinship to Charlotte. What a lovely human being she was. So since I have not posted a book review in quite some time, I thought perhaps I would post an old one, one I wrote before I started this blog, and one that I love! Happy reading!

Romancing Miss Bronte by Juliet Gael

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


A long admirer of Charlotte Bronte, and all the Bronte authors, I picked up this book at the library purely out of curiosity. It left me in tears. Years ago, when I was thirteen or fourteen, my mother insisted over and over that I read Jane Eyre. I kept trying, but I just couldn't get past the first 100 pages. I couldn't see how it would improve. It felt depressing and morose. Finally, when I was fifteen, I committed to it. I don't think any novel has had a greater impact on me since. I fell in love with Jane and with Mr. Rochester. I cried when the could no longer be together. It was the first classical "adult" novel I had read. My mother was right. And I've never quite gotten over it. It was, after all, my first love.

This book in some ways was much the same. Charlotte's life seemed so provincial, ordinary and much of the time, morose and sad. So I wasn't sure I wanted to know. I wondered if anything happy and good, beyond the publication and vast success of her novels, would happen to her. But it did. For a brief moment, Charlotte experienced all the happiness and all the goodness her life deserved. She was a noble, good woman. She was extremely intelligent. She formed deep and lasting friendships with a broad array of people.

Although the book is fiction, at first I thought it read a little too much like a biography. Now I appreciate the way the author wrote the story to so closely mirror Charlotte's real life. Because of that, I got a glimpse of an extraordinary woman. I was extremely happy to find her married to a man worthy of her. While at first she didn't see it, she came discover what a truly great man he was. He was of constant service to others and to her. All the while she had been looking for some exotic Mr. Rochester when what she really wanted had been in front of her for eight years. I think what I loved best was watching Charlotte finally fall in love with Arthur Nicholls, the constant curate who had served her father's parish so well. My hat goes off to Juliet Gael. What a beautiful story of a very beautiful woman's life.


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Books...

Oh there should be more posts about books, I know. I should be reading more and saying lots and lots about those books that I am reading. I haven't been in the mood to read. And maybe with all my goals and my focus upon writing my own story, I've just let the reading go. A time and a season, I suppose, a time and a season.

So last night, speaking of books, I went to see Breaking Dawn with my girls. It was so hokey! And really actually kind of inappropriate.

But I've been thinking a lot about the Twilight series, and wondering why it is that I like it so much. There is a small piece of me that thinks I shouldn't like it because it glorifies a romantic fantasy that is not only unreal but dangerous. It isn't healthy to be soooo uber obsessive about love. And really what Edward and Bella have is lust, not love.

Then there is that other side of me...the one that says "Shut up! Who are you, anyway? Gloria Steinem." No disrespect, Ms. Steinem. You're amazing and, in my humble opinion, a real humanitarian. No, it's just this other side of me remembers what it is to be in loooooooove with someone. The first stages of crushing and finding yourself twitterpated are, well quite frankly, divine. And that's the only way I can describe it.

It feels like a conflict of interest is what it does. The one side telling me that it's entirely ri.dic.u.lous. The other side singing "Isn't it romantic!"

But the movie is another story, and I'm going to say that I didn't love it at all. And in fact, it was poorly made, and I think they could have done better.

The end.

Less Than 100

Guess what? I am getting close to the end with this blog. There are less than 100 entries to go, and then I can say that I have kept a blog for an entire year. An entire year! That is commitment. I'm not done, but I'm pretty proud of myself.

You see, I've needed to see something through to the end.

I didn't finish my diet through to the end, and that's been bothering me. A lot. Especially since I gained so much weight back.

I set goals to stop eating sugar, and I don't follow through.

I set a goal to find a job within six months of graduating, and it didn't happen.

I set goals to get up at a decent hour and to go to bed early, but I end up staying up until one and sleeping late.

I have two pairs of pants that I bought last year. It was my goal to get into them this year. I might get into them early next year, but it's unlikely to happen this year.

You can see where this is all going, so I won't belabor the point anymore than I have.

And now I have a new set of goals, and I'm off to a good start, and this blog is helping me. Because I'm finishing the task here, I know I can finish other tasks as well. So here it is, just about three months to go, and I'm finishing this task. That way, I'll know I can finish the other goals I set out to complete.

Sparkle and Shine

Oh but how I want my life to be glittering and pretty like I see it in my head. What's that supposed to mean, you say? It means that I see things all glowing and essentially perfect in my future, but my day to day is not anything like that.

A few days ago I got an offer to start my own little practice of sorts. I could do some estate planning and it might make me a little cash. I then start into the fantasy. It goes something like this. Right away I get ten clients and make some wills and such, and then I have enough cash in a month so that I can open up a cute little office, with hardwood floors and a fluffy white rug whereupon sits my desk. And my desk, oh it is amazing, is a large piece of glass or maybe an old, retooled and antiqued door that sits on silver saw horses. My chair is a big, comfy, white leather high back, and it sits on rollers and rolls all around. Or maybe it is more traditional and just has four legs and big cushy arm rests. Behind me are my bookshelves, the square six-by-six kind from Ikea, and they come together at the corner. I think they are white, too. Yes, I think that is best. Oh, and did I tell you how the walls are exposed brick? Because they are, and I have lots and lots of really cool photos taken by Kevin Miller. They are bright and colorful and frameless. But most importantly, I have a Mac sitting on my desk because I'm a Mac, make no mistake about it.

I have about twenty clients on average a month, and I'm doing so well that soon I can afford a little apartment for myself, my car is paid off in six months, and I'm saving for a down payment on a house. And the wonder of it all...I still have time to write my novel. So when I'm done planning estates, I'm writing and writing. I slip off my shoes and curl up on the white leather sofa...the one that my heart has been longing for from Restoration Hardware...and pull out my lap top. I look up at my funky Ikea lighting and smile to myself at my clever taste in design, and I write to my little heart's content.

Yes that is my sparkly, shiny little day dream. When in reality I know that I'd have to go out and drum up business and really and truly I am no salesperson and not at all entrepreneurial. I mean, it could go off like gang busters, and I could find myself happily ensconced in my ideal little office. Maybe I could find a partner and an assistant so that I didn't get too lonely, and we'd have lunch and laugh and laugh about all sorts of things.

Why can't my life look like it does in my daydreams?

Gratitude Time

I'm rather sad and mopey of late...trying pretty hard, I must say, not to feel sorry for myself. Trying really hard not to get bitter. Once, in law school, when I was feeling sad because I was not dating or meeting anyone, I tried to show gratitude, instead of feeling sorry for myself. Every night when I said my prayers I would try to think of one man in my life that I was grateful for and then express my feelings of thankfulness for that person's presence in my life. It helped a lot, and even thought I wasn't dating, I did make a friend. It was something I needed...desperately. Right now I'm just trying to keep my head above water because it feels like there are several areas of my life where I am in need.

Here is my list...of things I am thankful for:

1. I do have lots of friends. I've been very blessed to know many many very good people.
2. I get to teach Relief society, and I enjoy doing it.
3. I have seriously awesome hair. And I have a really nice friend who does it for less than what she should. I love her.
4. I have a friend who was willing, last minute, to write a letter of recommendation for me. It was really kind of her.
5. My mom makes dinner for me every night. Do you know how nice it is to have someone else cook for you? I really do not love to cook. Really really don't. So it's been nice to have someone do it for me. And that includes Leah. She did it all that time I lived in Texas.
6. Cleanliness. I like to clean, it's no secret. Adn I like clean environments. I'm glad to live in one.
7. Goals and keeping them. This week has been a little bit tough as I have not wanted to stick with it. But then I think of the clothes I have sitting upstairs in piles, and I do not want to give them away.
8. I had retirement savings. I wish I did not have to use it, but I'm grateful that I have it to use. Otherwise I would be in trouble.
9. My mom and dad took me to My Fair Lady. FUN! I love plays. And seriously the HCT is really nice, you can see the entire show from wherever you sit, and the production is very professional.
10. There is medication to help me feel better when my thyroid won't work properly.
11. I'm grateful that even though I've been struggling to lose weight that I haven't given up on exercise. In the past, I've wanted to quit and say "whatever." But I'm trying really hard not to think that way. I'm trying really hard not to think anything at all. I'm just trying to do it because it is good for me. Period.
12. I've been a writing machine. I've written thousands of words these past two weeks. And that all adds up to finishing this sooner rather than later. I am going to write a novel, regardless of what happens with it.

So that's about it. It's almost Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving. I can't wait to eat lots of turkey and cranberries and pie and potatoes. I can't wait to see my brother and his wife and kids. I can't wait to celebrate all the reasons we have to be grateful.

Life as I Know It

When I made the choice to go to law school, I didn't ponder the end result very much. Actually, I don't think I pondered it at all.

Which is strange. I always plan and ponder and plan some more.

I won't lie, though. I think that maybe I just wanted a degree. The law degree, that is. I thought it would open up doors and be a good fit for me, but I'm not entirely sure of that now. I should have pondered the end result. I know that now, but there are a lot of woulda, shoulda, couldas out there, and I am not about to go down that road. It won't change a thing.

And besides, it isn't like I hated law school.

Right now I'm just confused. I want to be a writer, but an offer, of sorts, has come along. I want to get into writing and editing. I'm thinking about taking my blog to the public, writing book reviews, and attempting to make it profitable. I'd like, of course, to write books. Lots and lots of books. And I wonder if this move, this offer, will take me off course and lead me down a different road.

But then I wonder about my own ability to write a book, too, or to make a living blogging about books. This offer would require me to drum up business for myself, and it wouldn't take up all my time, but then...it could. And I have to make some real, honest decisions. I can't just think about what I hope will happen, but I have to get out and do something. Really really really do something.

It's scary.

Little did I know that life as I knew it would change so much when I made that decision to go to law school.

Sunday Night Surprises

So here are five random events from the week.

1. Carol came home! What a great surprise. Much like seeing Leah, she just walked in the door. She came to Utah for her grandpa's funeral, but she got to come over for dinner tonight. I love her. I begged her to bring Emmett with her next time.

2. My hair is, once again, fantastic. Seriously, every time I get it done, I am reminded of how much I love having my hair colored and cut. I was looking pretty raggedy there.

3. I wrote well over my 10,000 word goal for the week. I even wrote on Saturday. I think I might have a completed novel by the end of the year if I keep this up. Which I will. Otherwise I will have to give up clothing. I do not want to do that.

4. In the future, if I think that it is okay to skip out on my thyroid medication for a few weeks, I want to warn my future self that this is a terrible idea. Unless I enjoyed the past week of crying on a daily basis and freaking out, to myself, mind you, about everything. I need that medicine. I can wish it that I did not need it all I want. Maybe some day they will find a way to cure the thyroid. In the mean time, I don't care what sacrifices I have to make. I'm staying current on my medication.

5. Remember how I went to Hale Center Theater last night to see My Fair Lady? Well my friend Summer's younger brother Logan was in it. What a nice little surprise!

Alllllrighty! Off to bed. Goodnight.

My Fair Lady

When I was young, and my dad would take my brothers to the father son camp out, my mom would take Laura Lee and me to McDonalds. After that we would go to rent movies, always musicals. It was probably then that I saw My Fair Lady for the first time.

Tonight we went to Hale Center Theater in Salt Lake to see a production of the play. I loved it. I'd forgotten how much I loved the story and the music.

Mostly it was just a good memory for me, of childhood, of my mother and her love for all things musical. I remember that we would stay up late watching these shows. I'm sure that Laura Lee and I probably fell asleep on the couch and that my mom probably had to carry us up to bed. But those are some good memories.

And Hale Center Theater in Salt Lake is a really nice venue. It's theater in the round, and the staging was very professional. So were the actors. I had no idea...but near Broadway quality. Good times.

Grown Ups

That's what we are, me and my friends. And how do I know? Well, we have grown-up problems, that is how I know.

We have financial problems. One friend's husband is in real estate, so I don't have to say much about that. One friend started a pre-school so they could make ends meet. One friend had to refinance her home to ease up on her tight budget. I don't have a job and have to access retirement savings.

We have family problems. More than one of my friends has gotten divorced. Some of my friends have rebellious children, children who have learning disabilities, children who are sick or parents who have died.

We have mental and emotional issues. I've had trouble with my thyroid for several years now, and it has caused depression and other problems with my health. One friend has anxiety issues. More than one friend has depression.

We have health problems. Many of my friends are infertile. Some friends have had diseases, including cancer.

When I was young, I wanted to grow up. I wanted to take care of myself and I thought that being a grown-up meant a certain sense of freedom to do what I wanted to do. I didn't realize that as an adult, you have to pay bills, keep jobs, and attend to your health. It's a little shocking to think that this is real life.

It isn't that life is bad or that I'm not happy or grateful. Some days are hard, for sure, but I'm not unhappy. It's just because sometimes, all of the trouble catches you by surprise. And you realize that you are a grown-up, and it isn't all fun and games.

Nothing in Particular

I went running today. I wrote for two or three hours. I started an application for a job at BYU, contacted my previous investment broker, filed a request for my transcripts from Seton Hall. I looked for jobs. I made a hair appointment. I listened to some of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader while I was out running.

And that's a typical day, I suppose. You know...nothing going on in particular. And I guess that is why some days it's hard to find much to say. I mean, who really cares about the minutiae of my day to day life or anyone else's?

Maybe I used up ALL my creative juices working on my novel, and so now I am tired and I do not want to write about anything. I just want to finish my crossword, and eat some popcorn. So it's days like this when I wonder why I'm doing this, and if it is something I want to dedicate my time to day after day. But then I think of habits, and I believe that I have to. I made the commitment to it, and so I am going to keep writing every day. Maybe next February, when I've proven myself to myself...terrible grammatically, I know...then and only then I can consider giving it a rest.

Best Friends and Birthdays

Sometimes I wish I had learned to be a photographer. Or that at least I remembered to take pictures of important things and events, like my best friend on her birthday. Today is a post all about her!

She is amazing for several billions of reasons. We've known each other since 9th grade home economics. I remember we were at the same sewing table. She was infinitely better at sewing than I ever was. Oh that crafty jean...it's said to skip a generation. Or maybe it's just because I really could care less about crafts, what with me being so cerebral and all. Ha! That's funny.

But where was I? Oh, so my bestie and I, we met in the 9th grade, as I recall. But we weren't besties then. We didn't start to really hang out until we were sophomores. And only then when I realized that the girls I was hanging with were trouble. I still love those girls, let me tell you, but they were getting into a lot of trouble, and what is a goody-goody two shoes (what does that mean, by the way, goody-goody two shoes, anyway?) like me to do when that happens. I mean I had not even kissed a boy! No, not even one. So I became friends with Candace, and once that happened, boy I was one lucky girl, because suddenly I was surrounded by these super awesome and really good people to hang with on the weekends.

And Dawn, that talented home economics genius was amongst them. Now I tell you, she was a genius at many things...things like English objective and subjective tenses. Things like le francais. Oui oui, madame! Things like being a super good friend. That Dawn, she was just destined to be my best friend.

We even share some common ancestry. My great-great-great? grandfather is her great-great-great? grandfather. One Mr. Milo Andrus, who, it turns out, had twelve wives. What can I say? Polygamy runs strong through the Andrus side. So she's an Andrus, and my mom is an Andrus. And so we are extremely distantly far far away related through Milo. Although we came through different wives. And isn't that a strange thing to say? But sometimes I think that indeed our common ancestors were plotting and planning how we would become besties.

And so when you've known a girl for over two decades...and let's not get too excited about two decades, okay...you really know her. We were roomies freshman year at the BY. And then we were roomies at The Clave and Ye Olde Mille. Oh those good old Provo days when we hung out with Brig and Nate and Allie in the tree streets. Those were good times.

As were the times we spent together in high school French...where boys would flirt with her nonstop and Madame Nelson would get mad on a daily basis about the constant chattering. So much so, and I don't think I ever confessed this to Dawn, I asked to be moved so I wouldn't be in trouble any more. What? I told you I was a goody-goody two shoes! I was serious.

So today is Miss Dawn's birthday, and a HAPPY BIRTHDAY to her! Indeed...thanks for being such a perfect and awesome and wonderful bestie! I love you, Dawn-O!

2,000 Words a Day

This month is National Novel Writing Month. It's just a coincidence that I made my goal list this month and that it included writing 2,000 words a day. I had no idea until a few days ago. I don't even remember how I found out about it.

But I'm working on my novel. I'm writing 2,000 words a day...or more. But the minimum is 2,000 and that does not include anything else I may write, including this blog. The 2,000 is all part of the book.

And can I tell you something? 2,000 words a day takes about an hour and a half to two hours. Total. That is it. So imagine the sort of output I'd have if I doubled or tripled that? I never really considered, until recently reading On Writing, how long it would take to finish a writing a book. But if you write 2,000 words a, five days a week, you have 10,000 words a week. In a month...over 40,000 words. In two months...over 80,000. And if you write 4,000 words a day? Well, let's just say that when you look at the task in terms of words, daily writing to a goal, the idea of writing a novel in a month is completely possible. In fact, it isn't nearly as hard as one might think.

So here's to 2,000 words a day. Maybe even more. And maybe I need to take on this challenge and get serious and write my novel in the month of November.

I Am My Brother's Keeper

I lived in Newark long enough to become jaded about the homeless. It started out the first week I lived there when a woman came up to me asking for money. I found a few dollars in my wallet and handed them to her. At that point, it had not yet occurred to me that there were many homeless people in Newark, New Jersey. I said something, in passing, to another law student in the building. Only he was a second year student; he'd been around the block a few times, so he had something to say about it.

"Look," he told me, "you'll be giving away all your money if you do that. There are so many homeless people in Newark that you can't just hand out the money every time someone asks." He was right. Of course, I couldn't give money to every person who came along. There were a lot of people who came a long, let me tell you.

And you start to see the same folks...over and over.

Take, for example, the woman I saw at least once a month while I walked to church. She always had her crutches and she always had her leg wrapped up in ace bandages. All three years that I lived in Newark, I saw this lady in the same condition. I don't know of any leg injury that takes three years to heal.

The woman who had asked me for money that first week, the one whom I had given a few dollars two, well she showed up every few months, wandering the blocks around the Prudential building, looking for folks to give her a handout. She asked me for money on at least two occasions.

There was the woman missing the lower half of her legs, who sat in her wheel chair at various locations near the Prudential Center, probably hoping that nice folks attending games or concerts would help her out. There was the man who raved a little to loudly in the entry to the train station. I once saw him take his pants down. Thank heavens he had on a pair of athletic shorts.

I was asked for money or food by all types, too. There were, of course, the more obviously homeless. But once, a woman asked me to take her to McDonald's. She was wearing several nice rings and a leather jacket. She was clean and well kept, and I told her no. It actually surprised me that she asked for food, and maybe I should have done it. I don't know. Then there was the man who told me the same story your hear all the time near the train station. "My [insert some important relative here...mom, grandma, cousin, Uncle Joe] is dying and I need to go see him. Could I have money for a train ticket?" I was coming home from church, and perhaps that explains my more benevolent mood. I pulled out my wallet and handed him a dollar. And he said, "That's all?"

That's all???!!! My look was more than incredulous. I almost wanted to snatch it back from him, and tell him that I didn't buy his story, no not one little tiny bit, thank you very much, and I'll take my money back and you can go hang for all I care. And then he quickly corrected himself, stammered out an apology and thanked me for the money. I rolled my eyes and kept walking.

Once a friend told me that she was coming home from school when she saw someone with a "Hungry. Need food." sign. So she pulled her sandwich from her lunch bag, a sandwich she hadn't touched, mind you, and handed it to the woman. She said, "Oh, I don't want that. I want money." My friend sighed and walked away.

All I am saying is that you get jaded, right? And you realize that when every bit of money to your name isn't really your money at all but that it all has to be paid back, with interest, you have to be careful. And then you see this wide-spread, chronic problem and you forget the humanity behind the person who is asking for your help. Yes, even the man who says, "That's all?" He's human, and you know it, but you sort of turn a blind eye, ignoring it like it isn't there, even when someone walks right by you and asks you for money. You just keep walking and somehow act like you didn't even hear the person.

But today that all sort of changed. I drove into the Walmart parking lot to get a few items when I saw a man standing right next to the parking lot exit. I thought something about how that was too bad and about the cold temperature. I parked the truck, and I didn't think about it any more. I had stuff to do, I guess. Then I was pulling out, and I saw him again, right there next to the exit, just where he had been before.

And the Spirit said to me, give that man a few dollars.

Now, I don't have a job. I have very little loan money left, and I've just started the process to drain my last retirement account. But I felt like I should do it, so I reached over to my purse and pulled out a few dollars, and I motioned the man to come over. I rolled down the window, smiled, and handed him the money. He smiled and said, "God bless you."

"God bless you," I said in return. You know when you mean something. You mean it deep down in the very depths of your heart. I cannot remember the last time I said something that I meant the way I meant that "God bless you." We made eye contact, and for a brief moment, I could see just a man in need. I didn't see a stranger begging. I saw someone who was alone, and obviously, something had driven him to desperation. Desperation enough that he was standing by himself, on a cold day in November, asking for some help.

Tears filled my eyes as I drove away. And I felt a voice say to me, "I love that man. He is my child." I kept driving, tears flowing as I thought of how much God loved him. Then I heard, "I have not forgotten him, and I have not forgotten you."

Yes, I know. I don't have much money. However, who is to say that I couldn't become like that man? There but for the Grace of God go I. I mean, I have a family and friends who take care of me. I wouldn't be homeless because my parents and siblings wouldn't stand for it. I know that I have someone and somewhere to go to when I need help. And of course, I wondered where that man's family was? Did he have one? Could they or would they help?

Oh how easy it is for us to forget that those people who are down trodden and in need are God's children, His lost and needy children. And what did Christ ask of me? Christ asked me love Him enough to see those who have less than me and to show compassion and most especially to open my eyes to see, really see them. I swear to you that when we made eye contact and shared our "God bless yous" that I felt Christ with me and in that poor man. I saw his humanity.

I guess it really comes down to this. Am I my brother's keeper? Why, yes. Yes I am. And I am grateful to be called such. It is a blessing and a privilege. Yes, I am my brother's keeper.

Reasons Jobs Rock

So I was going to write a list of all the reasons that being jobless stinks and such...but wow that would be a bummer of a list, and I didn't think I should go there. Not when I'm already fighting off the negative nellies (is that a thing? I just made that up...). So here is an alternative list of reasons why having a JOB is AWESOME.

1. When your friends get married, you have money to buy plane tickets and go to the wedding.

2. When you need to see a doctor or a dentist, you have medical coverage and can do so.

3. When you have bills piling up...well, the bills don't pile up so much because you have a job.

4. When you want to get away to visit your pals in Vegas, you hit the road.

5. When you want to get away, period, whether to the mall or Vegas, you have a car. That you can drive. And get out with.

6. When you want to buy a gift for a friend or family member for a birthday, wedding or other exciting event, you can go buy it without concern about breaking the bank.

7. When you realize that your phone is on it's last leg, or your computer (don't worry five year old MacBook, you will always be my first love and please pretty pretty please don't die on me) for that matter, you know you don't have to worry about replacing it.

8. When you need some good running shoes because yours are ripped and torn and really you know you shouldn't be running on them, you just go out and get a new pair.

9. When you want to help out with a good cause...like donating money to a charity...you don't think twice about it. You just do it.

10. When you want to go to Sephora for some new perfume, or to Downeast Basics for a shirt, or Barnes & Noble for a book, you don't stress yourself out thinking about whether you can afford it.

11. When you finish out the day, you feel like you've contributed something to humanity.

There are reasons to be grateful, and I know that. I'm not suggesting otherwise. I'm just saying that these are the reasons that I enjoy being employed.

Five More Random Things...

Struggling for a topic. So here goes...

1. I really need to get my roots done and a good trim. This is one of the many reasons I hate not having a job. My hair isn't looking so hot.

2. It's good to have goals and it's good to have some wiggle room. I wrote my list at the beginning of the week, complete with punishments and rewards. And then it occurred to me yesterday that maybe being too rigid might be a quick road to failure. So I decided that I can have a day where I don't work out or get up at seven a.m. or go to bed at eleven p.m. I just have to remember that not every day is a free day.

3. I'm in love with Riley Nelson! Hah! Just kidding, but I love seeing him play for BYU, and I love the turnaround after he started playing this fall. It sort of makes up for the slaughter that was the U of U game.

4. When you drink a lot of water, you have to use the restroom. A lot. And that is how I know I'm drinking enough. I think I'd sort of forgotten that. I admit I was careless about it, and I really don't know why. In fact, I think I sort of avoided it, really, because I didn't want to be bothered with making sure I was getting enough. Silly.

5. This random list is really the worst entry I've had since I started this blog. Oh well, don't care. Some days you really don't feel like doing something but you do it anyway. Because you are supposed to. And here is to tomorrow and hopefully a better, more interesting topic.

A Rant...or Moral Dilemmas

I was just reading President Monson's address during the Priesthood Session of General Conference, and something surprised me. In a recent study, 230 young adults were asked open ended questions about moral dilemmas, right and wrong, and so forth. Most young adults did not understand what a moral dilemma was. In fact, they thought that affording an apartment was a moral dilemma.

What? Finding or affording an apartment is an issue, a problem, but not a moral dilemma. Deciding whether to falsify information so you can get an apartment even though you won't be able to pay rent is a moral dilemma.

I had no idea people were unaware of what it means to have a moral dilemma. And then it got a little more disturbing. When asked about a moral right and wrong, many said that moral choices were individual or personal choices. This is dangerous and quite troublesome. While it is certainly true that others have the same God given agency that I have, that does mean that morality is up to us to decide upon.

It is dangerous to think that you can make up the rules. This is simply not true. Taken to it's extreme, that would mean that it is okay to kill someone if it is what you want to do and it fits into your needs. Like, I need that person's money or that person's valuables, so it is okay for me to steal from them, or even kill them, if necessary. Of course, I doubt that anyone taking the survey considered that extreme. But if "do what is right for you" is correct, then I can justify any sort of behavior based on that logic. It's okay for me to drink and drive because "It's right for me." It's okay for me to mistreat others because "It's right for me." Whether small or big - littering on the sidewalk because I can't be bothered to find a trashcan or illegally selling drugs because I'm out of a job and need money - my decisions are simply up to me. If it feels right, I am justified in doing it.

Hello! Is anyone else as disturbed by that line of thinking? At minimum, we should be able to recognize that life isn't about doing whatever you want to do whenever you want to do it.

The Little Things

Life is made up of little things, little moments. little victories. There are the big things, of course, but sometimes it seems that they come around so infrequently.

Elder Uchtdorf, when speaking at the General Relief Society Meeting this fall said, "In the meantime, be thankful for all the small successes in your home, your family relationships, your education and livelihood, your Church participation and personal improvement. Like the forget-me-nots, these successes may seem tiny to you and they may go unnoticed by others, but God notices them and they are not small to Him. If you consider success to be only the most perfect rose or dazzling orchid, you may miss some of life's sweetest experiences."

I think I fall prey to a specific mistake. That is that the end result is to be celebrated but that the day to day sacrifices, the small things I do to reach a goal, are no big deal. I specifically remember two moments in law school where the excitement of getting two really good grades my first semester caused me a feeling of celebration and euphoria. The first happened when I found out I got a B+ in civil procedures. A B+ was much better than I had expected. I had hoped for a C or better, but it was a hard course, and I just didn't know how well I would do. I remember standing up from my computer and jumping around my apartment. I was ecstatic. And then I got my grade for contracts. It was an A. An A!!! I was in class when I found out, and so I didn't jump up and dance, but I could not stop smiling about it. I was quite certain that I had failed that exam.

But what about the day to day of that first semester? Did I celebrate when I finished a particularly difficult reading assignment? Did I celebrate when I finished a section of my outlines? Did I celebrate the forty-five hours I spend preparing for my civil procedures final? Not to mention the countless hours before finals came when I studied and worked to understand the material? Those grades were something big to me. But I didn't pat myself on the back during all those months before I got those grades.

And so today I am going to give myself a little praise. I set a goal to get up at seven a.m. I've now done it two days in a row! It's the start of a new habit, and I'm proud of myself for doing it even when it is dark outside and all I want to do is crawl back into bed and sleep some more. I exercised for two hours both yesterday and today. It's not exactly warm out, and I have to make an effort to bundle up and brave the cold. My joints have been aching since Tuesday, but I'm doing it because I made the promise. In fact, I've been diligently exercising for most of the past five months. I'm proud of my efforts to improve my health. There are more goals, and so far, I'm keeping those goals. I'm working to build habits. And in three months time, maybe there will be that big victory moment, the day that I say "Hallelujah! I lost fifteen pounds!" Or, "Sweet! I am working full time!"

But for today and each day after, I am going to be proud of the little victories that are leading to better habits and greater success.

Goals...

I got up at seven a.m. this morning, and it was dark outside. And I was tired. I wanted to crawl back into bed and go back to sleep. Several times throughout the day, I thought about nodding off to take a nap. But I had set some goals, and I had to finish a project, and if I went to bed, something on the list was going to have to go out the window.

Isn't it funny how when you think, the days before you start your goals, that it is going to be so awesome, and you are going to love getting your act together and making those changes for the better?

We'll think about January 1st for a moment, shall we? Or rather, we will think about the days leading up to January 1st. You've got your list of new year's resolutions. You've been thinking about goals and the things you want to change, do better, and so forth. So you are ready for that day, and you feel great about the list you've made. You are actually sort of excited about this new life you are going to be living, all these amazing things you are going to accomplish, all the discipline you will muster because this year is the year.

And then January 1st actually comes. You've promised yourself that you will get out of bed by six a.m. Six a.m. is no fun for you. You hate the morning. You are a night owl. And then the healthy eating habits begin and you realize that those left-over cakes, cookies and pastries have to be thrown out, or you will succumb to temptation, and you want to cry as you think of all the sugary goodness you won't be enjoying. The exercise goal you set now seems impossible, and you huff and puff your way through it. And by the end of the day, you wish you could fish those goodies out of the trash and sit down and forget all about goals and change and whatnot. The old life was just fine, you say to yourself. Nothing wrong with the way things were going before you decided on that list of self-improvements.

But you know, deep down, that isn't true, that there was something wrong with eating your weight in sugar on a regular basis or skipping the work outs or forgetting about your spiritual health. There was something wrong with spending hours in front of the t.v. instead of reading a good book or cleaning your house. Still, what you know about what is "best" for you doesn't make it "fun" or "thrilling" or any number of things you thought it would be when you were making up that list of goals.

So why is it that we anticipate this change, these new goals, as exciting? Why do we sit down with glee and think about how awesome it is going to be when we set out to improve our lives? Maybe it is because we are anticipating the end goal...which is to feel better about our lives in general. Maybe, like me, you see yourself fitting into that one pair of jeans that you haven't been able to get into for several years. Maybe, like me, you see yourself with your finished...and published...book in hand.

But like me, you didn't really think about the in between. You didn't think about what it would feel like to go to bed at an early-ish hour so that you could get up at a decent one in the morning. You didn't think about the aches that would come from a work-out long neglected or the cravings that would come when you gave up a bad habit. Oh those darned cravings!

I made my list this weekend and contemplated how I was going to make it work. I came up with a reward/consequence program. I made up a contract and sent it to my sister-in-law. And now is the time. I have to live up to what I promised myself I would do. I have to write 2,000 words a day when I think what I am writing is junk. I have to exercise for two hours when I feel like the scale is my enemy and I'm frustrated that the week before, after sixteen hours of exercise and good eating, I lost half a pound. I have to count the ounces of water I am drinking and cut back, seriously cut back, on sugar when all I want is a diet coke and some watermelon candies.

One day in, people, one day in. And guess what? I have to keep going. Maybe next week or next month or in three months, I will look back and say it was worth it. But oh how I tricked myself this weekend. Because today was not anything to be excited about. At least I can say I did what I said I would. And that does feel good.

We Can't All Be the Same

I was just thinking about the scriptures that describe how those who follow Christ, and in particular those members of His church, are like the body of Christ. And the foot has need of the hand. The hand has need of the head. But each part, although different, is needed.

I always thought of those scriptures in relation to gifts of God. Each person is given gifts, each gift being unique. And those gifts work together to make up the body of Christ's church, the point of the body being to work together to bring salvation to humanity.

But I never thought about the metaphor having any relationship to our individual lives. I mean, my life is so different from the lives of many of my family and friends. But then, I imagine that we all see our lives that way. So very different. What use would life be if it was all the same, anyway?

That doesn't change that I would like some parts of my life to be the same. But it does make it a little easier because I don't feel so much like my life is useless. I admit that at times I think that. I don't understand all of God's reasons or His timing. But I do see that we cannot all be the same.