Day 16

A note before we get to the goods. At last week's big wedding, I had a conversation with Melissa that feels very fitting for the preface to this post. For one reason or another, we were talking about our crying patterns. I can't say that I'm not much of a cryer--because the same things set me off every time. Stress at work, teaching a church lesson, or reality television arcs of personal inspiration or achievement. (See The Biggest Loser or The Olympics.) Some people well up at movies that move them or shed tears of joy at weddings. Apparently I'm only wired to weep when a major weight milestone is reached or Bob Costas has some insane voice over documentary about the Chinese pairs skaters.

I never said I wasn't complicated. I've been dreading today's post for quite a few days, but I've come up with that resonates for me. Try not to cry, okay?

A song that makes you cry (or nearly)

Scene: Mother's Day, 2000
Four days before I graduated a year early from High School. That last semester of school had been somewhat of a whirlwind; taking Saturday school classes to earn enough credits to graduate a year early, working part-time for work-study credit, and traveling to local, state, and national-level DECA and speech competitions (Wow, so so geeky.).

While traveling, I missed the announcement and practice sessions the Young Men and Young Women of my ward held to ready their Sacrament Meeting singing of that hit Primary classic "Love is Spoken Here" to be sung on Mother's Day. Having sung that song since before the womb, I marched up to the front with my other friends and wardmates and waited for the music to start.

I'm not really sure if I lost it before the first words, or during the first line--but I'm pretty positive I didn't even make it through the first verse before I just stood there and cried. And cried. I probably mouthed the words but no recognizable tune could have escaped my lips had I even tried.

That scene of my story happened ten years ago next month. In hindsight, I can more easily identify the feelings that song provoked in me. On the eve of my full-on launch into adulthood, that song served as one last final reminder that I'd been born of goodly parents and raised in a kind, loving home that all too soon I'd be leaving.

In the past month, I've spent a considerable time one-on-one with my parents. We played for three days in New York City while my dad was there for a conference and then I spent eight days at home in Portland last week. Coming from a family of four daughters, it isn't often we get to play that coveted game of "Only Child." How much fun we had together! Sure we had some visitors while I was in PDX (Julie + Greg for Easter and seven bridesmaids the night before the wedding), my favorite moments were the early morning (!!) moments making boutineers with my mom or driving to work with my dad. We made sure no one ever had to drink alone and spent time figuring out our new state-of-the-art phones. We talked about work, and church work, and yard work. We hiked and ate at Chevy's and found great bagels in NYC. I'm convinced the world would be a peaceful place if everyone had the kind of adult relationship with their parents that I do with mine.

So the me of 10 years ago cried during that song. I'm not altogether convinced I wouldn't cry again given a chance to "sing" it again this year.

Day 10

I haven't always been so tall you see.

A photo of you taken over ten years ago
Alternate comment: Mixing prints since 1987

Also? My mom and I totally have the same fashion sense 23 years apart.

Day 05

This is the last of the favorites, and boy howdy am I ready. I've forced myself into choosing just one of the day's category--not even mentioning others in an off-hand way. This has been deliberate and something you probably haven't even recognized my doing. Newsflash: In a (sometimes odd) attempt at self-mastery I do this--force myself to do something I don't want to (like the Half Marathon). Choosing favorites these last five days has felt like I've been painting myself into a corner: but I do it willingly, even if it clams me up inside. Masochist.

Your favorite quote

Without disclaim or apology, I present a quote that started a conversation so 19-year-old thought provoking that details of the initial conversation--and its subsequent reheashings in the last 8 years--are etched so firmly in my memory, and in my relationship with the other half of the conversation.

"Even though the moment passed you by, you still can't turn away." Goo Goo Dolls

If you only know a handful of things about me, you know that I'm a nostalgic person. I recall shared history often and am quick to shoot a two line "remember when?" email or text ot f-book wall post. My room is covered in photos of my favorite people and moments. I can get trapped into watching my screen saver, or reading old journals, or replaying moments in my head over and over again as I fall asleep. I love old timey things or traditional gifts given with purpose--a broach given to my mom as a bridesmaid gift by my aunt, the stained glass floor lamp from my parents that reminds me of home, the stacks and stacks of hand written cards rubber-banded together collected since the day I left home.

There's something so important about memories and the way we return to them. A smell, a phrase, a taste. The way a single photo can elevate every good, kind, and wonderful feeling you have about yourself or others. It's possible that looking back is easier than looking forward--because it's easier to forget the rougher edges in times gone by and concentrate on the good times.

This weekend, I marry off one of my very best friends. The bride is one of those kinds every one wants to be near; so friends from the last decade will gather together in celebration. So many people with a shared history will have plenty of shared memories to tell; I'm excited to get together and remember our shared joy and think back on when life seemed easier and less complicated.

Isn't that also the beauty of looking backward? Absence makes the hard grow easier. Yes, I made that up. But if you want it to be your Day 05 in the future, it's all up to you. Wiiiiiiiiink.

Also: this post will undoubtedly bring in the 100,000 page view. Are you she?

Tonight? Photos of yesteryear that are going to make this post really long and hard to scroll. Good luck.

Lesson learned? My hard drive is in terrible disarray. You'll notice by the random collection of times and places and ordering. My logistical side is fighting the urge to leave as is (and comment on every photo), but my WILD side is telling everyone to shut up and have another Starburst. Why thank you self, I think I'll have two.

The one similarity in all these photos is that they were taken before the birth of this here blogging location. (Baby turns four next month! And siiiiiiiiiick. I just called my blog Baby. I'm gross.) And have yet to be posted. Good times. (Also? Aren't you glad I'm posting? I felt the urge tonight but decided to hold the "OMG, I luuuuuuuurve the Olympics" for an evening. Old timey photos it is!

Hit it:

Wms. and Otherwise

I'm not even kidding when I say this picture makes me happy to be alive. If I can't be in Utah where my sisters and besties are, I'll settle for them getting together without me. And they do it willingly, I don't even have to push! There are a ton of really cheesy statements I could make here, but I'll limit it to one big SQUEE.

On the first weekend of Christmas...

My face is kind of a wreck. To put it mildly, I've been weeping from two of the three holes in the left side of my face for two days now. (I paid for fully branded lasik eye surgery, so no Liz Lemon mouth drain for me.) The good news is, I'm not letting this stand in the way of the most wonderful time of the year. You've heard about it, right? My obsession with December?

In years past I've let Christmas sneak up on me. I've vowed for this year to be different. I've been listening to (and enjoying!) Christmas music, the soft glow of the twinkle lights set up in our living room, and finding the perfect gifts. And it snowed for the first time yesterday. A lot!

Tonight, I attended the most festive party of my Boston existence. The spread of food was mind boggling for one person to put together (rockstar!), but we ate and ate and ate some more. Everyone was festively attired, and we gathered around the piano to sing Christmas songs four separate times. Two things we learned: 1) "O Holy Night" is a very, very high song and 2) "We Three Kings" sounds an awful lot like a pirates' song. But that might have been the homemade egg nog talking.

My grandmother collects nativities from every place she visits. In my continued quest to a) be more like my grandparents and b) revel in nostalgic traditions, I decided to take on the same challenge. I'm not at 100 percent, but I'm trying. And let's be honest, some locations facilitate easier procurement than others alright? So my home is now hosting the truest Spirit of Christmas! Let's take a tour shall we?

This is perhaps my favorite purchase of this Thanksgiving trip. I saw this Nativity in Mexico City our first day at an outdoor market. By the time we went back that afternoon (as I didn't want to haul it around), the entire market had been taken down. Somewhat devastated, we vowed to spend time the next day looking. Que suerte to have found it again from a different vendor, huh? The pieces are probably 9 inches tall and somehow I didn't get the shepherd photoed:

The set is tiny! I feel like a giant trying to set these pieces in their proper place. The woman who sold both Colleen and I this set in Mexico City (yep, I bought two) was too adorable. She saw us looking at nativities and unearthed these sets. She unwrapped the baby Jesus and in her sweet Spanish (that I understood! holy gift of tongues!) told us how cute he was. Agreeing, we immediately bought without even seeing the other pieces. When the price is right... Colleen aptly named this set "The Grab Bag Nativity." Los Gauchos de Argentina:
My final nativity piece was purchased last year in Italy. The snow globe plays Silent Night and I'm still ecstatic that it didn't break in my suitcase:
I hope you're each enjoying the most wonderful time of the year. Take the time to enjoy it! President Monson reminded us in tonight's Christmas Devotional that Christmas shouldn't be a time of pressure and fatigue, but rather we should relax and enjoy the Spirit of the Season. Join me, the weather is nice.

Last Thanksgiving

I'm kind of obsessed with Taylor Swift's cover of "Last Christmas." (I'm happy to send it to you should you be so interested.) Consta-repeat over here. But that's not what this blog is about. This blog was supposed to be about Turkey Day in Buenos Aires, but it's not about that either. (I keep distracting myself.) Instead? It's about last Thanksgiving.

You see, I started what was supposed to be today's blog by comparing and contrasting this and last year's grand events--both which took place overseas but which had very different experiences. I got to reviewing the photos from the cruise with my cute grandparents and my gorg sister Alaina, and I got sucked into the photos. And then I was sorry (again) for not being a better blogger last year. (How can I remember my life if I don't publish it? It's like that tree that fell in the forest but no one heard about it.) But Thanksgiving on floating city with tuxedos, formalwear, an ice turkey sculpture, and an on-board casino? That stuff can't be left alone.

And how can I live a complete life if this photo isn't posted? Really. How could I? Hello new desktop background.

Not going to lie, I love the slots. And I may have corrupted Alaina--she was the big winner of the trip. A one-night addict! I can't complain though, she was kind enough to share her quarters with me.

Where they tried their best for a turkey dinner, it left something to be desired. I may or may not have had a shrimp cocktail (or two) and a hamburger instead. But on holidays (and cruises) you do what you want, right? And per tradition, we followed up our nightly three course meal with a piece (or two) of pizza and a cherry coke on the way back to the room. Happy Thanksgiving indeed.

So this blog isn't what it was supposed to be about. Big deal, I'm the sheriff of these parts. If you aren't ready to put me in blog jail yet, I'll tie this blog post into a nice neat package and give you the T.Swift version of Last Christmas. Because this blog isn't supposed to be about that either. Oh well. Happy Thanksgiving 2008.

Dear Mallory

We've watched enough Dance shows since 2007... My lines could be much cleaner and body could have better extension. You however, bring a great personality to your performance, and you were really there for your partner, every step of the way! Yes you were! I think we'd be much more graceful should we give it another go when you come visit again.
PS--Thanks for the Cinnamon Satans. I'm embarrassed to say I ate all but four and am paying for it in el estomago. The Devil made me do it.
PPS--Come visit again.

I once was a baby that looked like a dude

But really, is that a face only a mother could love or what?
Also, isn't it fun to see that I started as a natural redhead? Perhaps the year I spent dark was taking it back to my roots.

Uppers

Dear Internet,

I had a rough 48 hours. Crummy for a host of reasons not even worth mentioning. And the good news is, I think the universe didn't want me to be unhappy any longer.

A few hours ago I received the sweetest text of my whole life from my lovely (and now married!) sister Kendall:

"I love you so much. I seriously think about you every day and how I could be more like you. Have a good day!"

I got home from work and was reminded of the sweetest post-it note of my whole life from my lovely (and now college freshman!) sister Mallory:

And then, I had the thought that's completely recaptured my good attitude. Nat, says the thought, Remember when you used to listen to Hairspray! all the time? Maybe it's time to resurrect the beat.

Woot. I'd forgotten how obsessed I was with Hairspray! It also brought back so many good memories. I saw Hairspray for the first time on Broadway with the SLC Holla House and then again with Julie last last Memorial Day. I'm now having a literal dance party with myself. But seriously, you should see my moves. I think I missed my calling in life.




So maybe I let the beat stop for a bit this weekend, but you'd better believe I won't any longer!

Christmas in July!

As far as decorating goes, the Wms. women don't know how to hold back. Visit any of our homes or attend any of our parties for a not-so-subtle reminder. Christmas ornaments are no exception.

I think it was my great-grandma Zella (my mom's dad's mom) who started the tradition of hand beading and sequining ornaments--and it's become quite a passion for our family. I grew up thinking everyone's tree ornaments must be as beautiful as ours. The ornaments typically have a theme and are placed near each other on the tree--The Wizard of Oz (Dorothy, Tin Man, Scarecrow, Lion), Cinderella (Prince, Fairy Godmother, Pumpkin,), Raggedy Ann and Andy, Twas the Night Before Christmas, etc...

In the last few years, as my sisters and I have gotten older, my mom's been in an ornament frenzy! And that zest has passed to each of us. I've learned to bead and sequin, and our Christmas gifts to each other in the last few years have been peppered with ornaments created by hand. Let me tell you, those gifts are my favorite--because they're long lasting and I know how much painstaking detail and time went into each one.

Last Christmas, I sorted the ornaments in my cedar chest (Christmas '07. Gosh it's great being from a family of girls) and I'm amassing quite the collection!

I've hesitated in bringing them East because I typically spend half of December in Portland, but maybe this is the year to bring them out to Boston!

"streetlight people; living just to find emotion"

I'm not quite sure how, but the song "Don't Stop Believin" has become a song I'll always associate with my time in Boston. I have countless memories with this song--from Christmas Galas to secular outings at the bar, to a recent going away dinner for one of my besties. This song always makes people happy.

How can I not be completely enamored with the version below? A song I love--the memories and feelings it provokes complete with a High School Musical-ness setting? (For the record, this is from the show Glee on Fox) I can't get enough. This song makes me feel like anything is possible.

{{UPDATE: Video removed. Go to YouTube and search it. You won't be sorry!}}

Now whoooooooooo has a "Don't Stop Believin" story they'd like to share?

A chance to rebuild

I know it's just a building, but the Longfellow Park Chapel was one of the reasons I knew Boston was my home. For at least the first six months I lived in Boston, my heart was full of comfort and a general feeling of "rightness" when I entered that building every Sunday.

Far from the hub of church activity out West, chapels in this area are hard to come by. The Longfellow Park chapel was the oldest in Massachusetts, boasting a rather unusual history and design. All of that's gone now -- the roof collapsed, windows broken, and a charred brick shell a ghost of the lively activity historically housed within the walls. So many many unknowns for the members of our wards--where we'll meet, if our wards can stay together, if we'll be disbanded during the rebuilding--and the magnitude of the situation is still surreal and hard to fathom.

The fire today has destroyed the physical facade, but for hundreds of members of the Church, the Spirit of what we felt within those walls will now be spiritually housed within each of us, as a physical facility no longer exists. Maybe this is the chance for us individually to help rebuild the building that rebuilt so many of us.

I'm not a DVD purchaser

But when these three films were on the $5 rack at Target, it was a chance for me to reclaim my childhood summers. Late 80's viewing party at my house this weekend. Who's in?

Now fess up

Someone left me a voicemail Tuesday night while I was en route to Portland. My phone was off, ergo I (sadly) can't tell who left the VM. Hands down one of the best voicemails of the year -- 45 seconds of my birthday/favorite Christmas song, and some kind of hard to hear best travel wishes message.

Honestly, I have no idea who it came from--and I wish I did. Reveal yourself!

And for the rest of you, check out what's become into quite the birthday tradition...

Home Sweet

Howdy folks! Can you believe it's October already? I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that August is long gone. I feel like I lost two months of my life moving across town--one month in prep work, the other in unpack work. To a degree, I feel I've dropped off the map. Time to reinsert myself in both the cyber and brick-and-mortar world.

I don't know that I've adequately expressed how much I love my new place and situation. It's a win on pretty much every front. In fact, I'm hard pressed to find a con to my new arrangement! I could start the list, but your eyes would probably glaze over. So we'll keep it moving...

My parents love a lot of things, but three lucky motives combined in my favor a few weeks ago--their love of Boston, redecorating/handy-man work, and me. In just more than two days, my loving parents transformed a cold, white-walled, furniture-heavy apartment into a custom pillows-sewn, pictures-hung, shelves-leveled, curtained, planted, wall-papered wonderland. Not enough can be said about the grand change--I love it because it makes me feel like I'm at home; both in the literal sense, but also in my parent's home. It's a wonderful feeling. Come see it for yourself!

How lucky am I to have already received my Christmas gift too? Check out my gorgeous lamp below. That antique floor lamp was dismantled and oh-so-carefully packed into a box, checked on the airplane, and then lovingly reassembled in the 617. It's even more beautiful in person.

It's okay if you want to come live here. I do too.

red, white and blue.

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to have my blonde hair back.

But I'm not going to lie. Today I'm kind of missing my red. This was the day I channeled my inner Mary Jane for the very first time. It was a pretty color.

That red and I had a good year.

by the time i grab my books, and i give myself the look

Tonight, I can cross another thing of my life's "To Do" list.

That's right. I have neer seen "Zach and Kelly's Las Vegas Wedding." I love Saved by the Bell. Of course I would; I'm a female in her 20's. Howeer, somehow, I escaped the 1990's without the capstone to my SBtB watching. And for the last 15 years, I've wanted to see the closing to an epic tale.

I decided to comment upon the movie as I sunk my teeth into this meaty 30-minute installment. Warning: there are some spoilers.

1. Zach, Slater, and Screech pull up to a curb and exit a Ford Explorer. This is the first time I have ever, and I repeat ever seen any of the SBtB kids outside. Think about it.
2. This is also the first time I have seen Slater in jean shorts. Double pleated acid-washed black jeans? Plenty of times. Run of the mill jean shorts? How early 90's.
3. Zach is sporting the Tim Riggins hair, but it's not nearly as sexy.
4. The soundtrack for this made-for-tv movie feels like a bad cruise playlist. Minus the steel drums.
5. Zach has a mom! And a new dad. Newer since high school anyway. (Dad is very, very tan.) If this movie were made in 2008, Zach might have had two dads. It is California, right?
6. Six minutes in and no sign of Mr. Belding. How good do you think my odds are that he'll stay hidden?
7. Zach's mom just gave him vouchers for a free room at the Stardust casino for their wedding night. She won them at her church's poker night. Raise your hand if you think Zach might have had a little smoother life with some church in his up-bringing?
8. Also missing? Jessie. I hear she's also in Vegas but was too busy working to attend the wedding.
9. Kelly and Lisa. Outside. Driving. Discussing the merits of curtains in the kitchen and lace tablecloths.
10. Zach and Slater, driving, outside, are arguing the merits of Steven Segal and Jean Claude Van Damm. (Who would today's debate be? Christian vs. Jason?)
11. CAR PHONE. CAR PHONE ALERT. And the classic Zach Morris cell phone!
12. Slater is now wearing a sleeveless, collared, button-up shirt. Zach borrowed his shirt from Corey in Boy Meets World, I'm sure of it. Short-sleeved, plaid, unbuttoned all the way.
13. Seventeen minutes in. I kind of miss the studio audience of the high school/college years outrageously laughing, groaning, and swooning at anything that happens on screen. And the pink fuzzy borders that indicate a dream sequence.
14. BLOSSOM REFERENCES. That girl Blossom and her stupid hats. BLOSSOM. That's the problem of putting pop culture references in recorded media. Will we watch 30 Rock, The Office, and Gilmore Girls with the same disdain?
15. Once upon a time, Krista and I made a list of people we'd vote off the universe. Ironically, we voted both Screech Samuel Powers and Blossom (and her stupid hats) off the universe.

Oh snap. The first quarter of the Zach and Kelly Vegas Wedding Spectacular is over. The boys are in jail, Lisa and Kelly picked up a bronzed and muscled hitchhiker, and some smart part of me died inside.

Here's the problem I've decided. The Saved by the Bell high school set is familiar. The Max is familiar. Zach's, Jessie's, Kelly's rooms. Mr. Belding's office, the gym, and that classroom right off the locker hall. They're all familiar. You know the show is cheesy, but you still love it anyway--it's nostalgic. In the blaring light of day, outside! driving!, and removed from the typical sets and scenarios we're used to seeing, the antics of our old crew feel grossly exaggerated and embarrassing.

Three questions. You can choose to answer one of them, multiples of them, or one of your own choosing:

1. Did I miss any other staple set locations in the classic SBtB series? I'll add the park bench outside the gym (see: Zach & Kelly's senior prom/break up)
2. Which do you think is more referenced/discussed/alluded to: SBtB or Full House?
3. Should I keep watching the made-for-TV wedding craptacular?

Ding Dong

Growing up, Alaina and I shared a room. I can still remember our light brown bunk beds. You could trace the knots in the wood with your finger. I’m not sure if I always slept on the top bunk, but I’m sure I did for at least awhile. If my memory serves me right, we started “Ding Dong” close to twenty years ago.

Sometimes it took us awhile to fall asleep (this may have been due to the 7:30 bedtime we had. Yes. 7:30. Another blog for another day.). We must have gotten tired of asking, “Are you still awake?,” so we devised a little method of asking and telling how close to sleep you were. “Ding Dong” was born.

The person—wanting to know if the other sister were still awake—would make say “Ding dong” (just like a doorbell might sound).

The other sister—in reply—had two options. If she were still awake, and welcome to conversation, she would say, “Ding ding.” If she were close to sleep and didn’t want to be disturbed, she could say, “Dong,” in a really low voice. Conversation would cease after that.

It may seem like a really easy, simple thing that would eventually fade in time, but surprisingly, “Ding Dong” has spanned the years. Though we haven't lived together in quite some time, it isn’t alltogether uncommon for either of us to call “Ding Dong” during the night—even fifteen years later. We’re both college-educated and moving on with our lives—but Ding Dings and Dongs can still be heard every once in awhile.