Friday, June 25, 2010


I now have a basil that is growing under my watchful eye. I've always wanted a basil.
Stay tuned.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

I'm a fan

This is the very first large format photograph I shot.


Monday, June 21, 2010

Oh, Sundays

The soothing notes of an acoustic guitar fill my ears. I slowly drift out of unconsciousness as I realize I'm not dreaming. The alarm. I pry my eyelids open and try to shake off my sleep. It's not working. The music gets louder. Or maybe I'm just getting more awake.
Ignoring the light pouring through the blinds, I drag myself over to the alarm clock and read the time. 6:47 a.m. I still have time. I hit the snooze button and fall back into bed, curling up under the quilt. It's cold. I left the window open last night. What time did I fall asleep? After midnight, surely.
At 7:04 a.m. the music starts again. I try to squirm out of the quilt and get over to the clock at the same time. It doesn't work; I fall off the bed. Once I get the blasted alarm off, I make my way to the shower. The hot water doesn't help my drowsiness. I slowly twist the knob to the cold side, trying to get the perfect temperature. Not too hot, not too cold. Lukewarm?
Twenty minutes later (okay, more like thirty), I'm back in my room. My curls are carefully sculpted with mousse and my make up is almost perfect. Just a few last minute adjustments and I'm ready. I'm almost late.
Oh, Primary. I'm grouchy and tired, my hair is still slightly damp, and I can still taste my breakfast despite my vigorous teeth-brushing. I unwrap a stick of green gum as I wonder how I'm going to pull this off. The chorister isn't here today. I'm on my own during Singing Time. Lovely. Did the parents feed their children pure caffeine and sugar for breakfast? I'm in over my head. I constantly check the clock, hoping it's 10:40. It only makes the time go slower.
Finally. As soon as the last child is out the door, I stop playing the postlude music. I just want to go back to bed. My brain is fried. Should I try to sit in the chapel today? Probably.
I pick a spot closest to the end of the pew, right next to my younger brother. He snuggles into my shoulder as the meeting begins.
Thirty minutes to go. I know I shouldn't be checking the time, but I can't help it. I'm exhausted. I take a look around as the speaker drones on. A few of my Primary kids catch my eye and wave. One little 2-year-old squeaks, "Hi Bahneeee!" earning a few chuckles from the surrounding people. I smile at him and make a face. He giggles.
Turning my attention back to the speaker, I realize that I'm enjoying the topic. It's Father's Day. This father is talking about his kids, growing up, his dad, being a parent, etc. I love hearing about parenthood. It makes me feel that I might be a little more prepared when it's my turn.
The final speaker finishes his talk early. 11:50 a.m. A new record, I think. Before I know it, the meeting is over and families are filing out of the chapel. I walk out of the building and into the beautiful, glorious sunlight. Sighhhhhhh. Now, was that so bad? Not really. My nerves are still a little crazy from the stressful Singing Time, but...that's nothing a nap can't fix. I climb into the car along with the rest of my family. It's quiet. They're probably just as tired as I am.
I'm home. I stagger into my bedroom and peel off my hot cardigan. I won't bother changing out of my undershirt and jean skirt; I don't have time. I can already feel my eyelids getting heavier. The breeze from my open window and sunlight filtering through the blinds creates the perfect climate. I'm unconscious before I hit the pillow.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010


I recently learned something new about myself.
I love word games. Scrabble, Bananagrams, word search, Hangman, you name it. For some reason I just can’t get enough of them. I’m addicted. This realization caught me completely off-guard. I’d never really thought about it, but I guess I’m a “word person.”
Discovering this little trait shouldn’t really be that big of a deal, but it is to me. I love when I discover something new about me. Even if I knew it all along and suddenly realize it. It’s amazing. That feeling I get when I can say, “Hey, this is who I am. This defines me.” Gotta love it.
I’ve spent so much time asking and wondering who I am; I never really took the time to actually just let it be. I’ll find out who I am by just letting it be. It’ll take time, and that is completely okay. The little realizations can take me by surprise. I can take it one day at a time and every day I’ll learn something new.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Irrational Fears

Sinkholes. Alien invasions. Ghosts. The boogyman. Pain. Floods. Hurricanes. Tornadoes. Snakes. Koala bears. Alligators. Spiders. Things falling from the sky. Going deaf or blind. Being kidnapped. Blood. Getting fired. Someone stealing my phone. Turning down dates. Freezing to death. Losing an arm…or leg or finger or toe. Forgetting. Chimpanzees. Knocking a tooth out. Heights. The ocean. Frizz. The crazy-psycho ex coming back. Gaining weight. Homeless people. Exploding pens. Piranhas. Fireworks. Getting hit by a car. Cancer. Fire. Drowning. Being buried alive. Caterpillars. Evil people. Guns. Movie stars. Flying in an airplane and hearing the captain mention that the engine has failed. Growing up. Rabid animals. Falling. Being late to work. Failing. Teachers. Clowns. Getting stuck in an elevator. Construction workers. Dogs. My debit card being declined. Being paralyzed after an awful accident. Baby monitors (blame Signs). E.T. College. Being a parent. Cheerleaders. Druggies. Losing my toothbrush. Infectious diseases. Global warming. Getting lost in the woods. Cliff diving. Scuba diving. Anything having to do with diving. Swimming with my face underwater. Stupid people.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Event: The Sprite Can

It was quietly sitting there in the middle of the sidewalk. A tall, empty can of Sprite, the tab popped open. I had just left my apartment for a brief walk in the sun when the shiny aluminum caught my eye. Surely the can hadn’t been sitting there for long. It looked brand new. Someone had probably ripped it from a six pack, chugged the contents, and thoughtlessly left the container behind. I was almost tempted to relocate the can to a garbage bin, but the thought of whose hands – and lips – had touched the metal stopped me. This was downtown Salt Lake City and for all I knew, the soda had belonged to some druggie, homeless person, or another less-than-clean being.
A brilliant thought entered my brain. Of course! I would just play “kick the can” until I got the can close enough to a garbage bin, and hopefully the garbage man (who would already be somewhat dirty) would take it with the rest of the trash.
I geared up for the kick, my leg back and swinging it forward with all my might. The garbage bin, after all, was still a ways up the street. Time slowed and I kept my eyes glued to the little can, excited to see the little thing fly.
As soon as my foot came in contact with the Sprite can, I became suddenly and chillingly aware that the empty can was a lot heavier than an empty can should be. A split second after that realization, the can exploded and spiraled away from me. My kick propelled the can forward. I watched in disbelief as sprite sloshed everywhere. The sweet liquid sprayed nearby cars, the windows of the closest buildings, even a passing cat.
A few seconds later the can settled just a few yards in front of me. I stood there in shock for another thirty seconds. Eventually my silent shock faded into merely horrified mortification and I quickly surveyed the scene. Luckily I found myself alone and relieved that no one had seen my little stunt.
I continued walking with my head bowed as if nothing had happened, carefully stepping around the Sprite stains and the now crushed can.
I was about 96.7% sure that the ordeal was my own embarrassing secret. However, as I was on my way home just ten minutes later, the Sprite can was gone.
Apparently someone had seen.