February the 14th

Remember that post where I wrote about how much more awesome Valentine's Day is if celebrated in an elementary school fashion? Well, apparently my co-workers got the memo cause when I walked into work this morning this is what I saw (please ignore the hand lotion and other various messes cluttering my desk):

Just now co-worker Frank walked by and presented me with a Sponge Bob valentine and a Reese's peanut butter cup. I love Valentines Day. And don't you worry, I also did my part in spreading Valentines cheer in the office by handing out these treats:

Also making me happy this Valentines Day is the fact that I actually sort of decorated for my favorite holiday this year:

It may not seem like much to you crafty types but I thought it was quite domestic of me.

Now moving on to what is making me unhappy on this lovely holiday. It is the fact that Mike's professors are apparently Valentines Day scrooges so he has a test tonight and a paper due tomorrow. Which means that we will be spending most of the day apart, and I kind of like to have my husband around on holidays devoted to love.

But I'm going to make the most of this situation by using the alone time to cook a nice dinner while listening to the old jazz music that I love but isn't really Butch's cup of tea. So Billie Holiday and I will spend the evening together lamenting the absence of men in our lives. I don't know why but I almost think sad love songs have more of a romance to them than the happy ones, and no one does sad music better than Billie. Her voice is like the musical equivalent of dark chocolate in that even her happiest songs have a bit of melancholy longing to them. Perfect for Valentine's Day.












Not diggin Billie? Maybe Andre 3000 is more your jam (this song gets stuck in my head without fail every Valentine's Day. Hence the title of this post):


Happy Valentines Day! Hope yours is filled with love. And candy.

Say it ain't so

Of course we knew Jerry wasn't going to be around forever, but I never thought it would end like this:

http://www.ksl.com/index.php?nid=304&sid=14327951

I'm gonna miss that cranky old man.

Just some whining and Peter Pan syndrome going on over here

Sometimes I feel like the guy in this song:



Although I would be an ungrateful idiot if I didn’t recognize that, for an English major, I’ve done pretty well for myself. I have a full-time job with benefits that actually requires me to use the skills I learned in college (although no one has asked about my thoughts on Derrida or Foucault yet, thank goodness), the company I work for is awesome, and I make enough money to avoid the “living on government cheese” stereotype.

But there are still times when I get anxious about the future and this week has been one of those times. As of last week I’ve been at my job for three years and have this feeling that it’s time to move forward somehow but so far none of the options I’ve explored have panned out and it’s frustrating. More frustrating, though, is the fact that I can’t pinpoint exactly what direction it is that I want to move in.

I’ve been toying with the notion of going back to school for a Masters in rhetoric and compositon but am having a hard time getting excited about that idea. And if I’m not excited about it now, I’m sure as hell not going to be excited about it when I have to scrounge up letters of recommendation, take the GRE (again-ugh), and juggle the craziness that is full-time work and school, so what’s the point in even applying?

But I could just be thinking that way because I still have a bad taste in my mouth from my prior grad school experience, which consisted of two semesters spent trying to convince myself that I wanted to be a public school teacher while repressing the little voice in my head that kept telling otherwise. Quitting that program was one of the most liberating things I’ve ever done, yet I’m still kind of angry about the waste of time and money and can’t bring myself to repeat that experience.

I guess the underlying frustration here is that, career-wise, I have next to no idea of what I want to do with my life. All the ideas I had going into college–law school, journalism, teaching—ended up being things I was not passionate about. People always tell you to “follow your dreams” and crap like that, but what they don’t tell you is that sometimes the hard part is figuring out what that dream is. I’m not a lazy person, but I don’t like to work hard for the sake of working hard. I like to feel like I’m accomplishing something or working towards a goal, so going to grad school just for the sake of keeping busy or because I always thought I would is not too appealing. Especially since going back to school will probably leave me saddled with student loans, something that I have avoided up to this point in my life.

I really just need to figure things out one way or another though because this funk I’m in is making me do crazy things. Like the other night when I was at the grocery store and a huge bag of Marshmallow Mateys found its way into my cart. It’s like my subconscious was saying “Hey, you know how being an adult kind of sucks sometimes? Might as well take advantage of the perks by buying the sugary cereal you were denied as a kid.” So I did. And then ate two bowls for dinner. Which I can do because I’m a grownup, dammit.

Succesfully avoiding the post-Christmas blues

The first week of January is usually a rough one for me. I get used to the holidays and all the good times that go along with them, so when real life gets back into full swing I lose my mind a little. However, I'm happy to report that this year's transition has gone better than most, thanks largely to the following:

1) Jazz game with our good friends Hansol and Morgan.
An outing to Crown Burger and the good old ESA was exactly what I needed after my first Monday back at work. Thanks for hooking us up with tickets, Hansol. We like you.




2) A new Netflix addiction.
It's taken us over a year to get through three seasons of 30 Rock, but I'm happy to announce that husband and I now have a new show to watch together:

Yep, we love us some FNL. Something about the mixture of sports and dramatic plotlines has got us hooked to the point where we've watched at least one episode every night this week, eager to find out what kind of shenanigans those Texans have gotten themselves into this time. Mostly I just like it when the players screw up and the coach gives them a "You've gotta (insert reprimand here), son!" speech. It's strangely exhilirating.

Add a bowl of Farrs peppermint stick ice cream topped with crushed oreos to the equation, and this nightly ritual is becoming something I look forward to with the kind of anticipation usually reserved for Christmas morning.

3) "Out with the old, in with the new." (Furniture, that is).
Mike and I have had hand-me-down furniture in our living room ever since we got married. It was nice furniture and we were happy to have it, but it wasn't really my style. We've been wanting to replace it for a while but haven't been able to justify the expense of new furniture. Then last week a New Year's miracle occurred in the form of a KSL listing for the couch, oversized chair, and ottoman pictured below for a measly $100. Done and done.

Now I just need to get some fun throw pillows and figure out what to do with that red plaid armchair that is the last remnant of the old furniture. I'm toying with the notion of re-upholstering it with a more modern fabric instead of getting a new one but have no idea where to get it done and I've heard that it can get pretty pricey. Anyone have any advice on the matter? I wish I could just do it myself like some crafty folk out there, but I am hopelessly handicapped in the sewing department. My junior high home ec teacher Mrs. Bridge even told me so.

Internet, meet John

Thanks to the Christmas gift Smeegs got Butch this year, a corner of our basement now looks like this:
My husband is currently debating over whether a Karl Malone or D-Will fathead would best complete his shrine. Heaven help me.

I'm guessing this present was a large factor in Butch declaring this year's Christmas the best one of the four we have spent together. I would have to agree with his assesment, but not so much because of John as the fact that we got to spend lots of time hanging out with family, hitting the slopes, and, in my case, eating about ten pounds of baked brie. Hope your holidays were equally magical.

Christmas came early this year

When we bought our house the upstairs bathroom looked like this:

Pretty disgusting, eh? So Megan and I ripped everything out:
And Butch and his awesome Dad and brother rebuilt it to look like this:

Most of you are probably thinking "is that a shower cap hanging on the shelf?" Yes, yes it is. Don't judge me.

You're also probably thinking "Dang, that's some bright freaking paint." Exactly. When we were choosing paint for the bathroom the color I settled on was demurely named "English Apple" and appeared to be a lovely true green. Then we applied the paint to the walls and the result was quite different. To be honest I actually don't mind the way it looks in these photos all that much, but if you've been over to our house at night you probably remember that the bathroom walls gave off an eerie glow that resembled a nuclear plant or something. Not really the look I was going for.

I've been wanting to repaint the bathroom for some time now, but with all the other house projects we've had going on it was kind of low on the priority list. Plus I was not looking forward to taping off all the nooks and crannies and whatnot. I had mentioned to Mike that I wanted to repaint the bathroom as a Christmas project and even went so far as to pick out a swatch and sample can at Home Depot but didn't think we could really manage it during the Holiday break.

But then I came home from an annual "girls weekend" in Park City with Mike's mom and sisters on Saturday morning to find this sign posted on the bathroom door:

If you don't watch Arrested Development you're not going to get that particular joke, but the point is that I walked into the bathroom to see a Merry Christmas banner and the walls transformed into a lovely shade of robin's egg blue ("Zen" by Behr):

Turns out Butch and his friend Hansol had stayed up until 5 in the morning on Friday creating this Christmas miracle. As cliched as this sounds, I truly think this is the most thoughtful and unexpected gift I've ever received. My husband is awesome.

We continued our early Christmas celebration by heading up to Alta to test out the new ski gear we bought this season. Mike's parents were kind enough to give us money for new ski boots (me) and new skis (Butch) for Christmas and we wanted to try them out before our full ski day at Snowbird next week. So up to Alta we went, accompanied by Smash, Matt, and Smeaglett.

If anything could have made me love Butch more that day, it would be watching him ski. This is only his second season on skis after boarding for most of his life, but homeboy is already dropping cliffs and taking crazy tree runs with the rest of us. I hope our kids inherit his athleticism cause they sure aren't going to get it from me.

Of course we had to make a run to Molca Salsa afterward. Nothing tastes better after skiing than greasy Mexican food.
It's funny how, back in my high school and college days when I had a season pass and a schedule that allowed me to ski at my leisure, I totally took the experience for granted and only got truly thrilled about skiing on the most powderlicious of days. Now something as simple as an hour and a half of skiing (for free!) makes me feel positively giddy. I guess absence does make the heart grow fonder.

Hope all of you are having a wonderful holiday season!

Apparently all I want to write about is sports

Last night I was talking to Smash and she reminded me that the Patriots were playing the Jets on Monday Night Football. Of course I was out running errands all night so I couldn’t watch the game, and when Butch got home I told him that I really need to renew my former Patriots enthusiasm. To which he responded (in a lovely sarcastic tone) “oh, cause they’re 9 and 2 now?” And right then and there I was reminded of why I kind of hate being a Patriots fan in the first place.

See, my family lived in Boston when I was a kid and we more or less maintained loyalty to that region’s sports teams (or, more accurately, we cheered for whatever teams my jock older brother rooted for, and he remained loyal so the rest of us did too). I can’t stand watching baseball but I hate the Yankees on principle, cheer for the Celtics as soon as the Jazz make their exit from the NBA playoffs, and, when it comes to the NFL, the Pats are my team.

However, as mentioned above, I haven’t really been too invested in them for the past couple of years. This is mostly because I married someone whose loyalties lie more with the NBA than the NFL, and, with the Jazz schedule being as packed as it is, my weekly sports-watching quota is usually met long before the Sunday football games air. But it’s also because being a Patriots fan has kind of sucked ever since they beat the Rams in the Superbowl and went on to dominate the NFL for the next couple of years. During that era I dreaded telling anyone I was a Patriots fan, as I could see the word “bandwagon” forming on their lips before I could even finish a sentence. Superbowl parties also became bittersweet, as my siblings and I were usually the only ones cheering for New England while everyone else was pulling for the underdog. It was indeed lonely at the top.

Then came the Patriots’ inevitable fall from grace, with the whole Belichick cheating scandal, the disastrous Superbowl of ’07 (even my Benedict Arnold of a husband cheered for the Giants), and the tabloid spectacle created by Tom Brady ditching his Baby Mama for Giselle “my body is ridiculously hot” Bundchen. Hoo boy. Rough times indeed.

But the Pats have pulled through it and, after owning the Jets’ trash last night, are 10-2 and looking like the football team that I know and love. So by returning from my NFL-watching hiatus it looks like I might once again find myself cheering for the “bandwagon” team that everybody wants to see lose; the team that has nowhere to go but downhill. As much as I hate to make this comparison, it kind of makes me feel like a Lakers fan (except not really, cause the Lakers suck). But hey, it could be worse. I could be a Cincinnati Bengals fan. Am I right, Phil?

One thing’s for sure. I would have an easier time cheering for my beloved Patriots if the quarterback didn’t resemble a mulleted, post-pubescent Justin Beiber. Tom Brady, please cut your freaking hair. I don’t care if you’re balding, you look like an idiot.

I consider it a late birthday gift.

Halftime Score
Miami Heat: 51
Utah Jazz: 32

Final Score
Heat: 114
Jazz: 116

What could account for such a miracle, you ask? Oh, just my boy Paul Millsap scoring 46 freaking points. Nine of which came from back-to-back-to-back three pointers. Holy shiz. My head is still spinning from the magic of it all.

So Paul, you are officially forgiven for ruining my birthday party by playing like crap against the Lakers. Let's be friends again:

And Jazz? Please have more games like the one last night. They make me a happy girl.

3

November 7, 1874: The Republican Party was first symbolized as an elephant in a cartoon drawn by Thomas Nast in Harper's Weekly magazine.

November 7, 1917: Lenin's forces overthrow Alexander's Kerensky's government in Russia's Bolshevik Revolution.

November 7, 1929: Museum of Modern Art opens (NYC).

November 7, 1931: Chinese People's Republic proclaimed by Mao Tse Tung (Looks like it's a good day for the Communists).

November 7, 1944: President Franklin D. Roosevelt wins a fourth term in office.

November 7, 2007: This date may never be remembered for anything in history books, but it was on this gorgeous fall day that I made the best decision of my life:

Three years later I still can't believe I'm married to the cute boy whose smile made me weak at the knees. Even though we spend 90% of our time goofing off and teasing each other, I am fully aware of how lucky I am to be married to someone who I not only love, but admire so much. In my dad's speech at our wedding dinner, he said that Mike impressed him with both his strength and humility. Couldn't have put it better myself.

Mike is one of those amazing people for whom no challenge is too great, yet he is the least egotistical person I have ever met. He is currently juggling full-time work and school, plus a demanding church calling (this means he usually leaves the house sometime around 6 a.m. and comes home around 9 p.m. on weekdays), yet the phrase I hear from him most often is "Is there anything I can do for you?"

I could go on and on about the things I love about my husband--his optimism, his sense of humor, his kindness--but in the interest of keeping this post from being completely cheesed-out I'll restrain myself. It does need to be mentioned, however, that Mike might just have ESP. When I suggested splurging on tickets to the blackout game for our anniversary (thinking he'd jump at the chance), Butch said that he didn't think it was a good idea to stick all our proverbial eggs in the Utes' basket. So instead of watching that train wreck in person we got to view it from the comfort of a couch. For free.

So thanks, husband, for making these three years of marriage amazing, keeping us from Rice-Eccles stadium on one of its darkest days, and maintaining your excellent dental hygiene habits. I'm still a sucker for those pearly whites:

Love you, Butch. Happy 'versary.

A very Half-y Halloween

Did the awfulness of that pun make you cringe or what? Or maybe if you took Mr. Felt’s class at Olympus High it just made you feel nostalgic. Anywho, the point of this awkward title is that I ran my first half marathon on the day before Halloween. I have always been hesitant about doing this because I prefer to view running as a simple form of exercise rather than a sport in itself, so I didn’t really know if I’d like the experience of running competitively.

I’m happy to report that I ended up really enjoying the race. It was a beautiful course with perfect weather, and because people were all festive in their costumes and whatnot, the atmosphere was decidedly laid back. Here are some photos:

My friend and running partner Marianne. We spent many a Saturday trucking around the Salt Lake valley together:

My costume. I put white duct tape on my running clothes to transform myself into a skeleton. Sadly, only one lone femur survived the 13.1 miles. It’s a shame that you can’t see the beautiful kneecaps or shinbones that Smash created. They were lovely.
Butch was a supportive husband and cheered me on at the finish line. This face means that he’s proud of me:

The rest of our Halloween weekend was filled with festive activities like making caramel apples, watching scary X-Files episodes (thank you, Netflix Instant Streaming), seeing the Utes beat Air Force, and just hanging out with friends and family. Thanks to my little sister’s facebook page, I even have photos to prove it:

Is baby Anna not the cutest gnome you've ever seen?

Since we’re talking about Halloween, I have to post some pictures of the Cassity’s annual pumpkin carving night last weekend. My in-laws are pretty much master pumpkin carvers and every year we all get together to show off our skills. My pumpkin usually ends up being the “special” one of the bunch, since I don’t use stencils anymore after this mishap, but that’s OK cause everyone is nice to me about it anyway. Here are this year’s pumpkins:

And my special little owl:
Hope everyone had a happy Halloween!