The English Geek

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June 2014

Next month:
August 2014

losing sleep over our trip to Yosemite. I've read so many guide books, blogs, and websites! I want it to be perfect, but I've thought about it so much it is literally entering my dreams. I'm ready to just go!

running in new shoes. I didn't realize how worn out my old ones were until I put my new ones on. Oh my! Like running on clouds! (Plus: no blisters!)

worrying about Jake. Being the mom to teenagers is never easy, but right now I feel like I'm losing him. Like he's just drifting away and I can't quite grasp him anymore. Plus, since I had this dream, I have at least one bad dream about him a week. Nothing bad has happened, but it feels ominous, and I just don't know what to do.

struggling to let go of some anger. Something happened recently involving poor communication that influenced several people (one of them Jake!) and I'm just so mad about it. I usually can let go of things but this is lingering.

reading not a whole lot. I'm sort of in a reading slump. I'm trying to just be patient with it.

looking forward to fall. Not because I'm ready to send my kids back to school (I'm not, really). But because I feel like I'm finally ready to buckle down and do some real work once they're back in class.

nibbling from a bag of chocolate coconut almonds. The package was left in the car and turned into a ridiculous mess and then I had the brilliant idea of cooling it in the fridge and chopping it up. Plus, it's pretty!

adjusting to some changes at work. My boss changed jobs and it started a ripple of other people swapping positions. It doesn't feel exactly the same, and I'm hoping friendship can survive one of us becoming the other's boss.

thinking I will get tickets to the Ogden Temple open house. (Read about it HERE.) I took my kids to the Oquirrh Mountain Temple open house back in 2009 and it was one of my favorite days! (Here's a picture, just for fun...look how little they all are!)

(apparently it was sunny!)

thinking (still) about a speech I listened to on Friday, about poetry, by Paul Janeczko, at the Books for Young Readers conference. "We need to read and write poetry so our hearts don't die." I haven't been writing much poetry lately...maybe my heart is withering.

loving each of my kids for so many reasons. I have good kids and I am blessed. Here's a picture of one of them, just because he's cute (they're all cute) and will still let me take his picture (the rest of them won't, generally, without complaining or having to drive long distances):

anticipating this. Margaret Atwood. IN UTAH! I am totally going. Maybe this time I will be brave enough to get a picture with her.

wanting to write about my solo hiking adventure...the "when I'm old like you" comment...Ragnar...some Italy moments (these are, I confess, already written but now they feel like old news since I went so long ago!)...my top-ten list of 80s song remakes...my sewing projects.

peeling. I am learning about hiking with hiking poles. (Seriously: best hiking thing ever.) I learned the hard way, though, when we hiked Timp: your arms get way more sun when you're hiking with poles. My arms got fried. And now, they are peeling. I didn't notice until I was at that book conference on Friday, and was absently scratching my arm, and then I finally thought wait a second, why is my arm so itchy? And then I looked down and realized I'd left a little pile of dead skin flakes on the leg of the lady sitting next to me. Awkward...

What's happening in your world?

Posted at 09:44 PM in Randomalities | Permalink | Comments (0)

Book Note: We Were Liars by E. Lockhart

Saturday, July 19, 2014

Before I write this book note, I have to make a confession: I generally dislike books that are about wealthy people.

This feels like a confession to me because it also nearly feels like a prejudice. Like I might immediately decide I don't like a person because he or she is rich. It's not dislike, though...it is distrust. There, I said it: I don't trust rich people. It's not pretty, but I cannot write my response to this book without sharing that flaw of mine.

I understand the impulse to read books about wealthy people. It's a way of stepping into their lives and sort-of experiencing what that might feel like—to do all sorts of Fabulous Things. But my own opinions about the wealthy are too ingrained in my response that I can't enter into that fiction anymore. The entire time I'm reading, I'm thinking about how that would never happen in my life. (Whatever fabulous thing the "that" refers to.)

I know how people (usually us non-wealthy people) like to say that money doesn't buy happiness, and I suppose to a certain extent that's true. But really, it's too vague, and it depends on what you think happiness is. If happiness is only trips to exotic locations, and lots of pretty clothes, and big houses, and a summer home and expensive cars and the best schools, then yes: money can buy that. If you think happiness is only an inner sense of seeing the capacity for goodness or rightness or peacefulness or tranquility, then happiness is something you bring to whatever situation you find yourself in (poverty or wealth included). Money can't buy that.

But I confess: some of the things that money has bought me have made me feel happiness. Obviously I don't do Fabulous...well, ever. But I felt a specific sort of happiness in, say, Italy when I sat on the roof of my hotel room with my sister. I feel a little jolt of happiness when I wear the silver bead necklace I bought in Mexico this summer (scrimped and saved for, in fact, because I knew it would be expensive to get just what I wanted, and it was, but I bought it anyway and probably I still feel a little bit guilty). I imagine I'd feel an intense amount of happiness if I ever managed to have one of my longest-held wishes, which is a cabin in the woods by a lake.

But I also feel happiness in simple things that don't require much wealth. Reading a library book. Walking underneath threes next to the river. Sitting in the grass talking to my kids.

Maybe it's not so much that money doesn't buy happiness as easiness. Pick a bad thing, nearly any imaginable bad thing, and sure: money won't inure you to cancer, divorce, Alzheimer's, depression, random violence, miserable teenagers, birth defects, infertility, loneliness, disappointment, unemployment, discouragement, ugly family dynamics, or any other troubling thing you can think of. But it generally makes those things easier to cope with. What if, for example, we had been wealthy enough to have my dad in a better care center than the almost-squalid one where he lived out the last years of his life? He still would've suffered from dementia. But at least it would've smelled better, and he would have received better care, and all of us would maybe feel less guilt. My mom wouldn't have worried so much during those years about how she would pay for the care he needed, which would mean her health wouldn't have been as stressed.

Or, consider a friend of a friend, who is fairly wealthy. She struggles with depression quite a bit, and when things get especially rough and she is in a dark place, her husband takes her to Hawaii. Does it make the depression easier to deal with when you are sitting on a private beach on Maui? I don't know, but I confess: when I am in a dark place, I wish I could find out.

All of which is a long segue to expose you to my hard feelings toward the wealthy so as to introduce you to a central fact of E. Lockhart's book We Were Liars: It's about wealthy people. And not just well-to-do, but extravagantly, old-American, owns-multiple-homes-with-hired-help wealthy. The Sinclair family, specifically, denizens of the east coast who arrive every summer at their private island off the coast of Martha's Vineyard. The grandparents had three daughters, and they and their families spend the entire summer at Beechwood Island, in houses named ridiculous things like "Windemere" and "Cuddledown."

The three oldest grandchildren, Cadence, Johnny, and Mirren, are inseparable during the summers. When they are eight, Johnny's mother (who has divorced her husband) brings along her new boyfriend and his nephew, the unforgivably non-white, non-wealthy Gat. He becomes an essential part of their little group; when he arrives, the four of them become the Liars.

Told from Cady's perspective, the story first describes their idyllic, golden summers, and then it crashes into the summer 15, when Cady and Gat fell in love and then an accident of some sort left her with painful headaches and not much memory of what happened to cause her to wake up, half-drowned and nearly naked, on a beach in the middle of the night.

Another confession: I should have trusted E. Lockhart more than I did. Because while this is a book about wealthy people, and all the Fabulous Things they do with their lives, it isn't a book that's mean to immerse you in the Wealthy Way of Living. It is, in fact, intensely aware of the wealth within it. Instead, it strives to point out how unbelievably lucky they are, and how they take it all for granted, and how it twists their way of thinking. How insular and completely unreal their realities are.

Central to the story is the grandfather's inability to state how he will divide his assets when he has died. Perhaps he'll just will everything over to Yale. He's power hungry and plays his three daughters against each other, all while putting on the "don't we have a lovely family" facade. But he also has a point: why should he pass along his fortune to his three daughters who've never really tried to live their own, independent lives but have instead mostly lived on their trust funds?

Plus, it's twisty and dark and has an entirely believable romance, and self-realization and bad choices and irredeemable characters who you still love anyway. It has a twist at the end that I figured out but then, I accidentally read the last page and sort of ruined it for myself, so I'm not sure if it's easy to figure out otherwise.

But what really made me able to enjoy this, despite all the wealth and the Fabulous Things was the writing style. When Cady feels something strongly, the structure (literally—the words on the page) starts to break apart, and I like that. I like the edgy style and how it feels to be inside of Cady's head. I especially liked the description of her headaches.

So, I confess: I am glad I put my prejudice aside and read We were Liars.

I just hope you'll all forgive me for my feelings about wealthy people.

Posted at 08:18 PM in Book Notes | Permalink | Comments (1)

Timp 2014

Thursday, July 17, 2014

We always have at least one argument, and usually it's over something stupid. (This day it was because he wanted to get started and I still had to stop at the bathroom and adjust my cords and retie my boots and start my Strava app. And put some sunscreen on.)

I hike fast when we're going uphill.

He hikes so fast going downhill I swear he is running. Then I point out that he's not going downhill on feet, but on skis. Then I get frustrated with my stumbling attempts to go faster, but my fear of falling is larger than the frustration.

He hikes with a goal in mind: get to the saddle, get to the summit, get to the waterfall or the cave or the scenic vista.

I hike to see what the trail will show me; I like the destination, of course, but I like the vignettes along the way, too.

He wants to get where we're going, then turn around and come home.

I like to stop along the way to admire flowers or cliffs or the way the exposed stones are like the scattered bones of a giant. Then I want to stop and take a picture. Or seven.

I need to eat a few small bites on a long hike—some trail mix, a banana, a handful of crackers.

He hardly eats anything except for beef jerky.

(We both like the Clif Bloks.)

He drinks every bit of his water and then I share mine.

I generally forget to drink my water and then I get a little bit dehydrated. When we share I end up drinking more because he reminds me.

At the top, I like to sit for a good long while, admiring the view, wondering about the names of the peaks I can see but haven't climbed yet. I imagine stories. I stand at the edge and feel my pulse rise at the drop, exhilarated. I try to find a place away from everyone else and just be right here. And eat a peanut butter and honey sandwich.

At the top, he stays away from sheer edges. He likes to talk to whomever else is up there. He finds out where they're from and swaps stories in his easy, friendly way. But he doesn't like to stay for very long, and there is no sandwich for him because it would make his stomach hurt.

We both eat grapes though. There at the top of Timp. Even when it is cold, and the sweat that has bloomed between our backs and our backpacks starts to dry and chill us in the wind, a bag of grapes—cold, sweet, crisp—at the apogee of a hike is the ultimate in delicious refreshment. Refreshment in the most literal of meanings, the body made fresh again.

Our hiking styles are antitheses. He gets annoyed by my picture taking and I get annoyed by his refusal to savor the journey.

But I confess: I love that we share this. I love looking back and seeing him come up a hill I've just crested and knowing before I can hear him how his breath will sound. I love come down a curve and spotting him in the distance, with his confident stride and his floppy hat.

I love that when our strides match or one of us catches the other, we talk. We discuss the kids and the house and God and faith. We laugh. I am more open and I share what I am thinking instead of keeping it in my head, and while sometimes what is in my head is weird or fantastic or silly, I like that I am able to share it anyway.

His slower uphill hiking gives me time to take pictures without annoying him.

My slower downhill gives him time to stop and breathe when he waits for me.

We've hiked hundreds of miles. Together. Even if we're not side by side, but still on the same mountain. Still in the same beauty.

I spot him off in the distance and maybe I'm mad or maybe he's annoyed or maybe we are both perfectly blissful or thoroughly exhausted, but definitely sweaty and maybe a little bit smelly and I can only be reminded, once I am stripped of everyday banality the way that the mountains and a trail strip me, that he is mine and I love him.

Posted at 08:02 AM in Great Outdoors | Permalink | Comments (5)

Happy Summer Running: a Top-Ten List

Tuesday, July 08, 2014

I ran this morning for the first time since Ragnar. I've mostly been hiking for exercise ("sitting around eating cookies while complaining about being sore” doesn’t really count as exercise does it?), mostly because of our upcoming Yosemite hike, but also because I was a little bit afraid, after hitting the wall so hard, to put my running shoes on and go.

(Also because I need new running shoes! No more blisters! But the shipping of the new running shoes from Dick’s is taking for.ev.er.)

But when I started running this morning I realized: hmmm. I’m ok. No, wait. I’m happy! And I wrote this list of ten things that make me happy when I’m running. Well, “wrote” it in my head, while I was running.

1. Getting started. There's something so joyful in the first ten yards or so. The sky is so blue! And look at those little fluffy clouds! And is that some sort of falcon or hawk circling that tree? Nope, just a seagull. (Of course, then you get to that phase when you think have I ever run a step in my life? And then you start reminding yourself that it won't hurt like this forever.) I like that I remember every single time I start running that I love running.

2. Hitting lights green. Especially on big, busy intersections. When I know a light is coming up, I start speeding up as I get closer, but that doesn’t always work with the timing. Getting to the cross walk just as the light turns green? Running nirvana.

3. The sprinkler-challenged. Utah is a desert, but people forget that sometimes. And water their sidewalks at 10:00 in the morning. This generally annoys me to no end, but when I’m running? Ahhh. A sprinkler hitting the sidewalk = instant coolness. I ran along one entire solid block this morning of sprinkled sidewalk, and I wasn’t annoyed one bit. (I am a running hyprocrite I suppose. I’ll claim that title if it means my legs get to cool down for a few minutes!)

4. Drivers who look right before they turn right. Think about it: when you’re turning right, you look left to make sure the road is clear. But so many drivers don’t look right again, to watch for those pesky pedestrians. Drivers who do it right make me happy.

5. Courteous drivers, period. There are a lot of rude, bad drivers on the road. But oh! When someone doesn’t run a stop sign, but actually stops and lets you cross? So nice! I tend to wave at the good drivers who make my run easier, although sometimes I wonder if they interpret my run as a “holy cow, you’d better stop right there” gesture.

6. Trees. Sure, there are all those environmental reasons that trees are good. But the best reason? They give shade to runners.

7. and Flowers. Today I ran past someone’s rosebush that almost needed to be deadheaded, the roses were so blowsy. But they still were fragrant, and that little psychological boost of smelling something good sometimes is just the thing to keep me moving. It’s not just the scent though…just seeing a patch of happy flowers makes me a happier runner.

8. Street lights. They are perfectly spaced for a mile or two of fartleks.

9. Running clothes that work properly. A headband that stays in place, those grippy rubber things on shorts that actually grip, “anti-chafing” seams that don’t chafe. Socks that wick. And cuteness!

10. Finishing. I love when the last block is finally here. I try to finish with a little kick, giving whatever energy I have left to the last bit. It’s always good to start…but if I’ve run hard enough, it’s pretty good to stop, too!

What do you love about running?

Posted at 06:10 PM in Running | Permalink | Comments (3)

Why I am Ashamed of my Religion

Wednesday, July 02, 2014

“What do you think about the Kate Kelly excommunication thing?” one of my friends asked me recently.

I didn’t exactly know how to answer her, because the truth is I haven’t followed it completely. I have the general gist of what happened: she started a website focused on women obtaining the priesthood, the church felt like this was campaigning, and she was excommunicated. But I don’t know enough of the details to have an opinion, really. (Except, I do think it is ridiculous that they scheduled the meeting when she had already moved.)

That’s not entirely true, to be honest. I mean, I don’t know all of the details, but I do have an opinion on women having the priesthood. It is still evolving and I don’t have the right words for it yet, but I do think this: there can be a difference between women having the priesthood in the LDS church and women having equality in the LDS church. We can and should be able to achieve a more equal representation. Whatever is said about the brethren caring for the sisters, the fact is that until we are allowed to be present and to make decisions, it doesn’t matter.

(This is the root of my current troubled heart regarding my faith.)

But what really, really makes me ashamed of my church and its members is how we are treating each other. Part of why I haven’t read all of the newspaper articles and the blog posts and the web pages about the topic is how virulently righteous so many of the comments are. There is mudslinging and name calling, all in the name of “I’m right and you are so fetchin’ stupid for being so wrong.” There is an abundant overflow of judgment.

And I cannot stand it.

We (They?) are so quick to judge. To assume that motivations are known, that hearts are understood, that knowledge of other people’s behavior is good or bad, right or wrong, is the dominion of someone else. There is the casual cruelty of condescension and then the outright mean statements.

I don’t think we (they?) are acting like disciples of Christ. “By this shall men know that ye are my disciples: if ye have love one to another.”

But I’m not either, if I’m honest. Because, you know? I love Kate Kelly, whether she's right or wrong, for taking a stand. For being courageous enough to make her voice heard. For being confident enough in God’s love for her that she dares give voice to her ideas, questions, concerns, and hopes.

But I hold a corresponding scoop of disgust in my heart for the judgmental. For the mean, rude, derisive. For the ones who think they know better than everyone else, have all the answers, and know why everybody else is wrong. I don’t love them.

One of the reasons given for excommunicating Kate Kelly is that her actions have contributed to other people questioning their faith.

But those people making their high-handed comments? They shake my testimony more than anything else. Because they make me question whether I want to be associated with that kind of people. The kind that think, narrow mindedly, that their answer is the only right answer. The kind that think a little awfulness in the name of defending the faith is ok. The kind that refuse to look at anything with an open mind. I know that the church is not built up with only these types of people. But right now, their voices and actions are louder than anything else for me.

Posted at 06:38 PM in Blessings of Faith | Permalink | Comments (5)

June Recap

Tuesday, July 01, 2014

I meant to get up early and start working in the yard before I got ready for work. It is a disaster! Morning glory and ivy everywhere, choking out everything. Plus I need to go to the nursery.

Instead I slept until 8:45 and then ate some chocolate and putzed around. I did put some fresh bandaids on my Ragnar blisters. And clean out my email box.

I'm so productive!

In an effort to actually do something, here is a June recap.

All of my kids were out of school by the beginning of June. Kaleb and I went on a few walks in the first week of June, in the morning. That was lovely and I'd like to start it up again! Jake started working four days a week. He also started driving more, as he got his license in May. Cue a few arguments over the you-can't-drive-with-friends-for-six-months law. (I am a stickler as I think anything that helps them be more safe while they're driving is a good thing. If I look right at it, I am TERRIFIED every single time one of my kids gets behind the wheel. It's a sort of underlying ribbon of terror I don't know how to cut away.) Nathan had basketball camp and Kaleb had soccer camp.

The day before we left for Mexico, Haley drove home. We did a lot of Utah-County-type errands that she can't do in Logan and made sure we were ready.

(At one of our favorite restaurants in San Jose del Cabo)

One of my favorite things about our trip was speaking Spanish together. She is getting a minor in Spanish and is really getting good at it! I'm surprised at how much I can remember from my high school and college Spanish classes...I could understand more if people would speak more slowly! But she understands them. I liked sharing words and phrases with her.

The day that we flew home (June 17) there was a snow storm. Not in the valleys...but in the mountains. This does happen every once in awhile, but it's still a strange sight seeing fresh snow in June.

The. Best. Thing. Ever. for June, especially for Jake, is that after months of looking for just the right one (when your husband is picky and a little OCD and really likes things to be clean and well-cared for and as dent- and-scratch-free as possible, plus has PTSD from buying one used car and then having its engine die three weeks later, it takes a while to find just the right one), we finally found just the right one. Car, that is:

(This is right after we bought the car. I sent this picture to Jake to give him the good news!)

It is pretty much exactly what we were looking for, a Prism with less than 100,000 miles on it. The fact that it is the model with cruise control AND a lock button (you still have to roll down the windows with a handle though), AND it is in awesome condition….well. Everyone is pretty happy.

(Except yeah: we still are having the you-can’t-drive-your-friends-around-yet argument.)

Anyway.

Jake’s other cool thing for June was that he got to go to Florida. His Parli team (a HOSA thing) won the state competition, so he got to go to the National competition. They finished in the top ten (I still haven’t heard exactly which place) out of 45 teams. Plus he got to go to Universal Studios and Disneyworld. (He likes Disneyland better…less humidity!) He brought me back a chocolate frog! I am so proud of him for finding something he likes to do, being involved, and having some success.

Another fun June thing: Nathan sprained his ankle playing basketball in our neighbor’s yard. I’ve never seen an ankle swell like his did: the big swelling on the joint, of course, but then another lump of swelling on the muscle right underneath it. So he had two lumps of swelling, with a divet in between. He was on crutches for a few days, but now he’s walking again and trying to work out the swelling. He was brave…it was a pretty ugly sprain. (No break though. We had it x-rayed just in case.)

His ankle sprain gave me some SERIOUS sympathy ankle pains. I’m not joking. As soon as I saw his injury, my ankle started throbbing and aching and twinging. Not good right before a long relay race!

Ragnar was the last weekend of June (usually it’s the third weekend), and I was afraid it would be hot. But it rained the day before (and also the morning of the race, but since I was in van 2 I didn’t see it) and there were still clouds. I didn’t start my first run until about 4:00, and as soon as I got around the first curve and just onto the base of the mountain, it was cool. (Not chilly…but not unbearably hot.) One of my favorite Ragnar moments this year came at the top of the first long (3+ mile) uphill section of my first leg. You come around a curve and then you’re at the top, and you can look both down into the green, glistening valley and up at towering, craggy peaks (I think it is Mt. Ogden).

It’s like a psychic payoff for all those hard uphill steps, running down into that beautiful valley in view of the cliffs. When I came around the curve, there was a gust of wind (cooled me right off!) and, for about three or four minutes, a light spattering of rain. Just enough to take all of my discomfort away. It was perfect!

Yesterday was the last day of June, and I loved it! All of the projects and stuff that kept me busy all month were over. I cleaned off my scrapbooking table (somehow between everything I managed to make about 10 layouts this month; you can see some here and here) and then I deep-cleaned the kitchen. Nathan and Kaleb hung out with me, talking and helping. Then I went outside and started working on the wild jungle my yard’s become.

You know…the yard I won’t get to today. I wonder if I could call in “my yard needs help” today?

I don’t think I have that kind of time off.

How was your June?

Posted at 10:17 AM in Monthly Summary, Randomalities, Running, The Rare Vacation Post | Permalink | Comments (0)