Weighing in on current events

I found out via a link my friend Nichole posted on facebook today that Jennifer Lawrence has been cast for the role of Katniss in the Hunger Games movies. My first reaction wasn’t positive, since this is the photo that ran with the article:

And last time I checked Katniss wasn’t really the blonde, pretty type. But then I read that Jennifer was nominated for an Oscar this year for Winter’s Bone, so I looked up that trailer:


And judging by what I saw, homegirl is gonna rock it. I’m not going to watch Winter’s Bone in its entirety because it seems like the sort of thing that would give me nightmares until the end of time, but it looks like this actress uglies up quite nicely and plays a tough, gritty part with real depth. I think her Katniss will be a complex, emotional character whereas in less capable hands the role could easily turn into the stereotypical “I’m a girl but I'm so hard core you can't even handle it” type of thing.

True, Jennifer Lawrence is kind of old but casting thirty-year-olds to play teenagers is par for the course in Hollywood so 20 isn’t that big of a stretch. Plus I think that if they had actual fourteen-year-olds playing characters that kill each other I for one would leave the theater slightly traumatized (or maybe that’s just because kids that age look like babies to me these days). Mostly I’m just glad that they picked someone with real acting chops to play Katniss rather than Disney Channel’s latest and greatest tween star.

And while we’re on the subject, wasn’t Mockingjay pretty freaking terrible?

More pages I've been turning

A few months ago I joined goodreads. I created an account, asked a bunch of people to be my friends, wrote a review of one book, and then never visited the site again. Looks like my tolerance for social networking is maxxed out at a facebook account and this little ole blog. But I still love to talk about books, so here are some unsolicited reviews of what I’ve read lately:

This is the book that I reviewed on Goodreads, so I actually read it quite a while ago but it’s worth mentioning here because I absolutely loved it. I first got acquainted with Kazuo Ishiguro when I read Remains of the Day and there’s just something about his writing that kills me. It’s so distinctively aloof and cool and it worked particularly well in telling this story of three characters raised to be organ donors in a fictional 1990s England. I hear they made a movie of it recently but Keira McNast Knightly is in it so I refuse to go there (She was also in the film version of Atonement, which makes me think she is hell-bent on tainting my favorite books).

When I told people I was reading this book, their reactions were more or less the same. My boss said “so is it going to make us all want to be vegetarians?” and a friend told me that she didn’t want to read it because she wasn’t ready to change her eating habits. So I’m guessing you probably already know what’s in this book: an account of how modern factory farming mistreats animals, destroys the environment, and puts all kind of scary things into our bodies. But the way Jonathan Safran Foer tells this story—through a mix of memoir, interviews, and good old-fashioned investigative reporting—makes this a particularly interesting read. His approach to this issue is also more philosophical than most (sometimes pretentiously so).

That said, this book did not compel me to be a vegetarian. Foer makes it seem like it’s impossible to be a true “selective omnivore” but I’ve found that you can eat meat without buying into the factory system. You can purchase your meat from a local farm like this one, and stores/restuarants like Whole Foods and Chipotle are becoming more committed to providing ethically raised meat to their customers. So there are definitely options out there if you are like me and not opposed to eating meat on principle but don’t agree with what the meat industry has become.

This is one of the most unique books I’ve read in a long time. Although it’s labeled as a novel, The Imperfectionists reads more like a series of intertwined short stories told from the perspective of various staffers at an international newspaper in Rome. Some chapters are humorous and some are sad, but all are masterfully crafted. I first heard about this book on NPR, and the commentator said that it was one of the best-reviewed books of the year. After reading it I can’t say I’m surprised.

With the likes of Lauren Conrad (LC if you know her from Laguna Beach) claiming to be an author these days, picking up a book by a celebrity can be a risky venture. But aside from a slight tell-all feel in describing what went down on the Ally McBeal set, Portia de Rossi’s account of life with an eating disorder reads more or less like a gritty memoir by a legit author or journalist. It’s a really interesting look at how a behavior our society praises (exercising, eating right) can develop into something ugly in its extreme form.

My older sister recommended this book to me when I was looking for a light, guilty pleasure-type read. It’s about a teenage girl whose sister dies and she copes with this loss by writing some truly crappy poetry and hooking up with both the dead sister’s boyfriend and a fellow band geek. Classy stuff. I read this book in much the same way that I read Twilight, meaning that I had to periodically slam the book shut in order to shake off the awkwardness of the passage I had just read. Young adult literature and I have quite the tortured relationship.

So, in keeping with the whole blog-as-goodreads-account thing, I would love to hear some recommendations on what to read next. My life is kind of sad right now because all the books I want to read have waiting lists a mile long at the library. Truly a nerd’s worst nightmare.

Forget the Irish. Today it's all about the luck of the Russians

I have been having quite the stroke of good fortune over the past 48 hours. It all started with my gem of a husband insisting that I go skiing yesterday even though he couldn't come on account of his knee being injured. So I went skiing and it ended up being one of the most magical days in the history of the greatest snow on earth (described in detail by my sister here).

After I came home Butch and I went to run errands together and neither one of us got bored, irritated, or impatient even though we had to stop at both Michael's (which Butch hates) and Sam's Club (which I hate). For two people who dislike shopping as much as we do it was quite the miracle.

Then we went to dinner with the Cassitys and the two options everyone got to vote on were Famous Dave's and Morelia and in my head I was thinking "please not Famous Dave's" even though what I said was "I'm good with whatever Butch wants" because I know of the fondness he has for Famous Dave's and I am a fantastic wife like that. And guess which one everyone picked? I'll give you a clue: I ate a chile relleno with rice and beans for dinner and there were no bottles of barbecue sauce in sight.

Then through a course of events that is too boring to get into right now I ended up going to bed at 9:00 last night. Which I haven't done in years and oh was it ever a dream come true for a grandma like myself. It's amazing what going into work feels like when you've slept for a solid ten hours hours. Too bad I know I won't experience it too often.

So could all these events be coincidence, or maybe just a result of a sunny outlook on life? I would totally think that if it weren't for what I picked up on my stroll past the office candy dish today:

DOUBLE PINKS!!!!!!!!! Which makes it official. I am on a legit lucky streak and need to get myself to Idaho to buy a lottery ticket stat. Unless of course I just jinxed myself by writing this blog post. Which is fine by me cause I'd much rather spend tonight eating curry and watching Waiting for Superman than driving up to Idaho (although the true test of this lucky streak will be if Butch agrees to watch that movie with me. I'll keep you posted).

In a related note, can someone tell me why Starburst doesn't wise up in the manner of Mentos and start making packages of all pinks? I mean, if they did any kind of market research they would know that's what people want. And instead they keep messing with us by throwing in all the nasty yellows and oranges. If it didn't make me look like a loon with too much time on my hands I would probably write them a strongly worded letter.

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.