Expanding My Horizons

Like everyone else on Facebook, I recently came across the BBC list of top 100 books (in England, at least). I'd read about 40 of them, but most were the classics-- you know, Lord of the Rings, Pride and Prejudice, A Tale of Two Cities, etc. .. I decided to tackle the list and make myself a little more well read.

(Side note. Here's the funny thing. There are MANY copies of this list floating around-- none of which I could find on the actual BBC site. I can't even find the copy of the original list that I had on facebook, so I can't link you to it.)

Armed with my library card and a copy of the list, I headed to the public library. I checked out 4 of the books. I've read three so far and here's my review. (Because I'm sure that everyone gives a rip what I think.)

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. They recently made this one into a movie. It was rated R-- that should have given me a clue. I'm never quite sure what to do with books that cross the nasty line, you know? Do you just try to skip those parts-- be your own version of Clean Flicks? That's what I chose to do with this book-- and, quite honestly, that is pretty much my impression of it. I'm giving it a C.

The Life of Pi by Yann Martel I liked this one. It reminded me a lot of Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad and Lord of the Flies by William Golding-- kind of that "battle the beast within" thing. I learned a lot about sloths and about Hindus. These two subjects take up about the first third of the book or so-- you kind of have to slog through them to get to the real story. It's a good read, though. I'll give it a B.

The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon I liked this one a lot. This one flirted with the nasty line too, but not as badly as Cholera. However, Shadow has a much better story line. It is kind of a love story / mystery / adventure-- it's not one of those books that fits into a tight category. Everything and everyone in the book ends up connected to each other somehow-- that seemed annoying at first, but then you understand that is the point-- how things connect and stories happen time and time again. At least that's the point I got out of it. I could be blowing smoke. I gave it an A- and I'm sending it with Layne on his business trip this week.

It's been good for me to read books by authors of different nationalities. My literature experience, while probably more extensive than some, is still very heavy on the British / American side. Sometimes it's good to realize that there are many different perspectives in the world than the narrow one we hold ourselves.

The fourth book that I checked out was a second one by Marquez-- I haven't started it yet and, after the last one, I'm not sure that I'm going to. We'll see if there's anything better at the library. (And if I can talk Emalee into checking out something besides the Babysitter's Club. Seriously, did you know there's over 100 of them and she's read almost all of them? Talk about needing to expand some horizons!)

Moron Of The Day Award

If there were an award for Moron of the Day, it would be mine, hands down today. Typically, I am more than happy to point out when that award should go to others. (i.e. the old guy who almost hit me the other day.) In the interest of fairness, I'll give it to myself today. I deserve it.

I may have bitten off more than I can chew this month. I won't bore you with all of the crap I'm doing, as I'm sure that you are all shoveling loads of your own. Let's just say I've got more shovels than hands and it's not going well.

Today was a PTA council awards luncheon. We nominated a teacher and a volunteer to get a nice plaque. I got the names and bios turned in. Got the principal invited and a substitute for the teacher's class. Lunch starts at 11:30. At 10:15, I realize that I FORGOT TO INVITE THE GUEST OF HONOR.

She, of course, was at the school helping the teachers and was gracious enough to drop everything and come.

I dropped the ball.

Then I did it again.

At 3:50, I start wondering why Em and Mike aren't home from school?
Crap.
Michael.
Emalee had achievement days today and I was supposed to pick him up. The worst thing is that he tried to call me. I was tired of talking on the phone and didn't recognize the number, so I didn't answer.

I picked up the poor little dude. He was just sitting there in the wind, looking at his Star Wars book.

Yep. I graciously accept this award. Now that I am officially in the Moron Club, I'll try to be a little more tolerant of my fellow morons in the future. Or not. I am a moron, after all.

Sloppy Jose's

I've been trying a few new recipes lately, trying to relieve myself of the end-of-winter blahs. Admittedly, some are better than others. Here's an easy one that my family loved.

Note: They might have liked it because I named it something funny. (It's essentially Mexican Sloppy Joes, so I called it Sloppy Jose'.) Like the time I told them that curried chicken and rice casserole was called Jafar Chicken (from Aladdin). They ate it up.

Here it is:

Sloppy Jose'

1 lb. hamburger (or ground turkey for you health nuts) browned and drained
1 envelope of taco seasoning
6-8 slices of cheese (I like that monterey jack with jalepenos in it)
lettuce
tomatoes
4 oz cream cheese
1/2 c. salsa
1 loaf Italian bread

Brown the hamburger and add the taco seasoning with a little water. Cut the loaf of bread in half lengthwise and scoop out the insides-- leaving about a 1/2 inch bread shell. Mix the salsa and cream cheese and spread on each side of the bread. Place the bottom bread half on a cookie sheet and fill it with the taco meat. Place the slices of cheese on top and broil until the cheese is melted. Layer with the tomatoes and lettuce (unless you're Tina and you hate tomatoes), then put the top on. Cut into 2 inch slices and serve!

Insult to Injury

Let's make no mistake about the fact that I love to ride my bike. (I'm sure that was something that you were wondering about at this point.) However, even I have my limits.

We also have established the fact that I hate the cold. So, I've had to set my own personal threshold as to the temperature outside when it is too cold to ride. 38 degrees. That's it. Any colder, and my nose runs and snot freezes.

When I took Doug to school today at 9:15, I decided that I would ride IF the thermometer met my conditions. My car said it was 39. Off I went.

What my car doesn't tell me is windspeed / windchill. There was virtually no wind by my house. That changed about the time I got into Highland.

Suddenly, I experienced the same thing on my bike that I had in cleaning my house yesterday-- working my butt off and making VERY little progress. It's bad enough to be going uphill, but to have the wind AND gravity pushing you down is just a slap in the face.

My plan was to get into Alpine and climb the Matterhorn hill. I was lucky to get to the roundabout just past the "Welcome to Alpine" sign before giving up on my northward trek. To add insult to injury, when I climbed into Alpine, the thermostat dropped 6 degrees-- well below my Good-Riding Threshold and into booger-freezing territory. In the process of trying to remedy the situation, my tissue flew out of my hand and I was left with booger-cicles for the rest of my ride. (You're welcome for not posting a picture of that one.)

I keep trying to remind myself that riding in the wind just means that I burn more calories. There's got to be an easier way. . .

Groundhog Day

Remember that movie Groundhog Day where the guy lives the same day over and over again? I think that I got stuck in that loop.

I'll admit that I have a routine. Every Monday, I do the laundry and scrub my house. I was actually nearly excited to do it today, as it didn't get done last week (stupid PTA!) and was in SERIOUS need. So, at 8:00 am, I start.

I worked my butt off all morning mopping floors, scrubbing sinks, washing counters and the like. then I moved on to the family room. I vaccuumed out the couches. I cleaned out the coffee table drawers. The place was looking good. I headed upstairs.

Meanwhile, the groundhog struck. The groundhog's name is Doug.

While I'm scrubbing bathrooms upstairs, Doug is emptying all of the color books and video games onto the family room floor. My nice clean family room turned quickly into a pig sty. When I came down and found the mess, I got upset and made him clean it up. He did a 5 year old job, so I had to step in a clean the room-- AGAIN.

I thought that if I got him entertained with something, I could finish the upstairs in peace. I got out his water paints and set him at the table. Pretty soon, I hear suspicious noises and, you got it, the Groundhog had struck again. He decided that waterpaint looked good on the chairs and table. Then, when he tried to clean it up, he dumped his whole bucket of brackish water-paint water on my nice clean floor. For the SECOND time today, I mopped the floor, washed the counters and wiped out the sink.

It is now 3:00 and I am barely finishing. Finish is not the right word. Perhaps quitting would be better. I think that I will stay in my grungy scrubbing clothes and leave the do-rag on my head, just so that Layne knows how hard I worked today.

Guess I'd better go see what the Groundhog is into now. . .

Ode To The Old Guy Who Almost Hit Me Today

This poem is for you, crusty old guy in the Ford—
Your driving this morning just could not be ignored.
You see, miles on my bike I’ve logged more than a few
I know the rules of the road—MOST people do to.
But there’s always one moron, and to be blunt and bold,
The moron is usually on a cell phone, or old.

The cell phone types forget they’re driving their cars—
They’re speeding along with their heads in the stars.
The solution to this problem is easily known—
Get your head in the game and HANG UP THE PHONE!

But I digress, Mr. Ancient Ford Driver,
Your “skills” today barely left me a survivor.
Unfortunately I can’t fix this one complication—
Your driving—it stinks! It’s no exaggeration.
Just because you’ve slowed down and the world moves right past you,
Doesn’t mean that the traffic will do the same too!

So, when you’re going to the store to get your Depends and Ben-Gay
Do me this one favor—let me know you’re on the way.
If I know that you’re coming, I won’t be so let down—
I’ll just plan to ride on the other side of town!

Waking Up

As stupid and cliche' as it sounds, I feel like I am finally waking up after this long winter. I've been on 3 good rides in the last 5 days. My legs feel tight, my face has a flushed, slightly sunburned feel and there is a perpetual smile on my face. Goodbye winter. Goodbye depression.

I know-- next week is supposed to be cold. I can accept that. I've had a few really good days to get me through it.

I've seen funny things as I've been out riding. 2 dead road kill skunks-- was it a suicide pact? A dead horse on the side of the road-- okay-- not funny. A little black calf running on the parkway trail just like a dog. Lots of pasty, tubby people in spandex riding bikes with great big grins on their faces. Man, we're a goofy looking lot.

I love spring. . .

One Thing Leads to Another. . .

One of my first blog posts-- in fact, many of the first ones-- were about my feelings toward the American Fork Pressurized Irrigation Project. To refresh your memory, they were not GOOD feelings. My experiences this week haven't changed that.

After tearing up our streets, they arbitrarily put green boxes wherever they wanted to in our yards. They told us that we had until the end of March to hook our sprinkling systems up to this new water system, otherwise we'd have to pay $250. (Does the word "blackmail" ring a bell?)

As our sprinkling system is near our house, and their green box is by the road with a sidewalk in between (Seriously-- they couldn't have put the box 10 feet to the right on the OTHER side of the walk?), we decided to pay one of the groups that came around offering to do the hook up.

They told us it would be $300 (normally $200, but it was extra far away and across a sidewalk. GRRR.) We said go. They got started right away and dug to the water main. That's where the problems started.

The valves were shot in the main box. They said another $200 to replace that. One thing led to another, and to make a long story short, 2 days later, we're up to nearly $8,000 to be able to use the city's pet project.

The sprinkler guys have been very nice. They should be. We're paying their mortgages for a few months. They tore out the crazy overgrown bushes in front of the house for free. Now the house looks naked and the yard looks like a war zone.

What I find especially ironic about the whole situation is that, between the kitchen and the yard, we've sunk nearly $25,000 into the house in the last year, but the house is probably worth about $50,000 less than it was the year before.

At least I won't have to water the yard by hand this year. Maybe my flowers and garden can last past August this summer. . .

Broken Bat Dreams

My dad loves sports. He wrestled and played football in high school. He played ward basketball when I was growing up. Most of all, my dad loves softball.

I remember one year when he played on a team with my mom's brothers, a team from his work and on the ward team. Every night was filled with softball games or practices.

Being as my poor dad had 5 daughters and no sons to pick up the sports legacy, he did the next best thing-- he bought me a baseball mitt. I think that I started to play to get his attention, but eventually I played because I loved the game. I still love it.

I've been waiting for 9 years to be a baseball family. We've done the soccer thing-- that's all right-- but what I really want is to cheer for my kids as they hit home runs and strike everyone out.

I learned this week that my dreams are probably not going to come true.

Mike had baseball tryouts yesterday for the rookie little league. We bought Mike a new mitt and I oiled it and broke it in. I worked with him and with Emalee all week. They both throw like girls. I told them that. Mike was offended. Emalee, of course, answered, "I AM a girl!" I answered just like my dad always answered me "Well, you don't have to throw like one!"

Poor Mike-- Layne and I both worked him over all week long. I thought that we had made some progress by Saturday morning. We took him to the tryout and I sat on the bleachers and waited for my superstar to perform.

He forgot everything we taught him. He was off in la-la land as balls soared past him. The try-out coach-guy had to show him how to bat. (ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? We worked on that for HOURS!) He swung at every pitch and missed them all.

I felt bad. I told him "Good Job, Pal!" but really, I was feeling let down. I could hear the sound of my dreams shattering-- they sounded like a broken bat.

I know, I know-- he's only 7. But so were the other kids who were rocking it up on the field. I guess I'm just going to have to hope that he has fun and that I learn to bite my tongue a little.

At least he was cuter than all those really good kids. ;-)

Social Armpit Injustice

Layne and I had an interesting conversation the other night that has been on my mind. The gist of it is this-- why is it socially acceptable for men to have hairy armpits but not women?

Lest you misunderstand my point, I am NOT advocating the picture on the right. We all know that is gross. (Sorry for posting something so revolting, but I have to make the statement.) What I want to know is why men don't have to shave their armpits too?

Hairy armpits are not useful and are not attractive. On anyone. Men shave their faces-- they could just as easily shave their pits. They obviously know HOW to use razors. It's not a big stretch.

When I suggested that to Layne, he seemed to think that a man shaving his armpits was as gross as a woman not shaving hers. Why is that? Who made that rule?

When I am Queen of the World, one of my first acts will be a Hairless Armpit Mandate. Especially for those crude construction workers who insist on wearing dirty tank tops to work. Maybe the second mandate will ban those. . .

Sunshine Fix

I've been feeling down for days and days. By down, I mean down-right pissed off and grouchy. I couldn't figure out what the problem was-- timing's wrong for PMS and there were no other peripheral reasons that I could establish. Seriously-- I didn't want to leave my Lazy-Boy today.

Somehow, I talked myself out of the house and onto my bike. It took me until 1:30 to get myself out. However, once I finally got out and going, I miraculously started feeling better. I actually came home with a smile on my face.

I think that I just needed a fix. Some sunshine, wind in my face, a little speed-- I think it does the same thing for me as a hit of meth does for a junkie. I don't get the same buzz riding the trainer inside-- and that's all I've been doing for over a week-- and for months before then.

Winter and I are in a duel to the death, I'm afraid. Spring's got to get here soon or I may rot in my beloved chair. Either that or move to San Diego. . .

The Carbon Line

My padawan Calli made mistake number one in the bike universe today. She rode carbon.

When she went to buy a bike, I told her not to test drive anything that she wasn't willing to buy. Accordingly, she tried a cute little aluminum frame Trek, loved it and bought it. She has loved that bike for 9 months now. Until tonight.

Like a new convert, she's converting everyone around her to cycling-- including her mom. Calli found a bike on KSL.com for her mom and went with her to buy it. Then, without thinking, she jumped on the bike to try it out.

She only rode it around a parking lot, but it was enough to incite adulterous feelings in her. She called me immediately, and all I could do was empathize. You see, the same thing happened to me.

I had a perfectly good FX myself. Then Layne upgraded to a Madone and got me to try a full carbon bike. I bought it the next day.

What makes a carbon bike $2000 better than an aluminum one? I can't explain it. It's like the difference between eating store brand chocolate chips (which aren't that bad), then tasting a Lindor truffle. You can't really describe why one is so much better-- it just is.

It will be interesting to see what Calli does. She has more self-control than I do-- perhaps she can make herself forget. Maybe she'll talk her mom into a trade. Either way, she can't undo what she did tonight-- once you've crossed the carbon line, it's impossible to go back!

Now Hiring Guys Named Doug

There are funny signs like this all up and down I-15. This one is right across from one that says "We have too many Mikes." I've been trying to get a picture of it too, but I haven't captured it yet. (Yes, I did take this one WHILE I was driving.) They are particularly funny to me, as I have sons named both Doug and Mike.



I posted this one today, though, because Doug really is an awesome little kid. I took him to the doctor the other day to get his kindergarten check up and 4 shots. Ouch! While we were waiting for his turn, about every 5 minutes, some kid would start screaming bloody murder. Doug started to look scared.



He went through all of the check-up stuff and then came the dreaded shot time. He was so awesome. He layed there on the table, somewhat offended that he had to pull his pants down and the nurses could see his Power Ranger Underoos. They pulled out the needles and waited for him to scream, but he didn't-- they were amazed.



They did the first two shots and he said "OUCH" and gave them a dirty look. They told him that he was the bravest kid all day. Of course he had to tough it out after that, so they gave him two more and he didn't make a peep. They said he was the coolest kid they'd ever seen.



I was so dang proud! (Especially considering that when I took Emalee in for her shots at that age, she wrapped herself around the legs of the exam table and started yelling, "Grandma, SAVE ME!!!" It took 3 nurses and me to hold her still for her shots.)



I told Doug he could have a reward-- what did he want? A nice hot, steamy bath.



No wonder Omniture is hiring guys named Doug. Everyone should.

Now I'm the TV Star

I can't let Layne have all the fun. My mom, two of my sisters and I went to a live taping of Good Things Utah today for Mom and Colette's birthday. (Yes, they do have the same birthday, in spite of my mom's best efforts to keep that from happening.)

It was really interesting to see how things work from behind the scenes. I don't watch the show all that often-- every once in a while when I'm folding clothes or something-- but it was really fun to see how a live show is made.

It was funny to see how they all talk amongst themselves about anything (like the rest of us), up to about 2 seconds before they go live. Then, they all stop mid-sentence, put on their game faces, smile for the camera and start the tv shpeel. It would be an interesting job.

Today's guest announcer was Thurl Bailey-- former Utah Jazz player turned singer / sports commentator/guest speaker/etc. Man, that guy is huge.

If you're wondering, I did get to be on tv for about .5 seconds at the very end.

Yep. Now I'm waiting for the agents to start calling. "Who was that girl?"

One more thing. Here's my little video of the GTU girls taping their promo for the next day. Just for fun.

Married to a TV Star

Layne's going to be a tv star. Comcast convinced him to do some television ads, so we went up to their studio to tape him. It was really interesting to see how they do the taping and everything. More importantly, I have pictures of Layne being made-up.

He had to read his lines about 20 times until he couldn't hardly remember what the words meant anymore. It was a little bit tricky to keep Doug silent for all that time, but he did a pretty good job.

The bummer is that we don't have Comcast-- we have direct tv, so we'll never see the commercial. Y'all will have to let me know if you see him on.

Private Parts (of a bike)

What a gorgeous day! I had to waste a little bit of it to have an MRI done on my knee (finally, after 10 weeks), but at 10:30, I set out on my newly tuned bike.

Picking up where we left off in the fall, Calli and I hopped on our sleek beauties and pedaled south. The wind was coming from the south, and we figured it would be better to take a headwind while traveling down hill on the first half, than to hit it on the way back. Down to the lake we went.

We got to the Lindon Marina and most of the way down the beautiful new trail that starts from there, when Calli started to hear that tell-tale hiss from her front tire. It was a slow leak, so we left it until we were in a more convenient place to change a tire.

The actual tire change went well, until we had to remount the tire and we found that Calli's brakes and quick release system were all kinds of screwed up. We could get the wheel set, but then it would make sounds like a killer whale when it spun. That's not good.

I say "we", but I mean "me", as the whole time, Calli was mostly observing my labors. You see, Calli has a policy against touching the "private parts" of her bike. I guess it's a matter of privacy or something. Apparently her policy doesn't extend to me.

In the end, my wonderful husband had to come rescue us, as we had run out of time. (I was late to pick up Doug and her husband had to get to work.) We took the bike to the shop, where Wayne (the best bike mechanic in the state) laughed at Calli and told her to sign up for their maintenance 101 class. I guess that's where you learn about private parts.

I think it's like babies. When I had my first son, I was all kinds of nervous about diaper changes, as he had equipment that I didn't have. Soon, however, it was old hat and by the second boy, I could change a diaper, drive, and talk on the phone at the same time. Maybe with enough practice, Calli and I can get that good at fixing our bikes too.

A Tune-Up

Saturday was perfect riding weather. The only problem (and a major one at that), was that I had obligations all day and was unable to take advantage of said weather. They were great obligations-- a baptism for a nephew and a birthday celebration for my son, but I was still tempted to blow them off and ride.

Partly to avoid temptation and partly because my bike needed it, I removed temptation altogether and took my bike to the shop for a tune up.

You should see it now. It needed a new chain (and don't think that I don't feel cool for riding my bike so much in the last year that I WORE OUT a chain!) and a good cleaning. It got new cables and brake pads. My bike looks and rides like new.

Got me thinking. Where can I go to get a tune-up? I want to go somewhere and spend $150 and come out like new. I would like new hair, new make up, the broken parts replaced or fixed, and everything bright and shiny. Anybody got that phone number?