Twas the week before Christmas...

....and I laid on the beach.

I think I made the right decision.

This post will self destruct in 5 seconds

Shhh...I'm really going to have to sensor myself here, because I work for a very important, top secret company and things I say may destroy you...and our country. But I feel like posting about my typical day here in "sunny" CA, and most of that day is used up by my employer.

5:00 am -- Wake up. What? This is even earlier than my clinically early parents.
5:45 -- Meet up with vanpool. This is a glorified bus and I have a free pass this week! Read scriptures with a head lamp while I eat dry cereal from a bag. Yum.
6:30 -- Arrive at war headquarters and settle in to my 1970s desk and chair. Begin work immediately for fear of being reported by a coworker for checking my email or yawning or something.
9:00 -- Blink. Realize I'm already hungry for lunch.
11:30 -- Decide lunch must happen. Wander downstairs amidst factory workers building jets (yes, literally building jets just yards away from me) and find a cafeteria. Eat. Lament the fact that California still has a winter and I haven't run far enough to escape feelings of coldness.
12:12 -- Back to work! Exactly 42 minutes for lunch or die.
2:00 -- Get slightly mocked by a coworker who points out that once again, I've used the wrong jet image in my layout. Weird that I've been there a week and I don't know that the current model has pointed wing tips instead of straight ones. Hold back sarcastic comments like "In Utah we don't have jets, so...my apologies."
2:15 -- Get caught singing "SAFETY DANCE" by another coworker. He's cool with it.
3:55 -- Freak out at my computer as I'm frantically trying to finish something in time to meet my vanpool.
4:05 -- Approach a disappointment-filled van and apologize for making them late on my first day. Feel like Dagwood in that stupid Blondie comic strip. Feel stupid for even remembering that character's name.
5:50 -- Arrive at home. Eat carrots. Talk on the phone. Do forbidden things on the computer like check email, blog, listen to music.
6:00 -- Wonder if I should be pursuing a social life.
6:01 -- Give up and watch something on Hulu.
9:00 -- Get ready for bed.
9:30 -- Lights out. Rinse and repeat.

It's a formidable schedule. BUT...I get Friday off, so we'll see if it's all worth it.
All that said, things are coming along nicely. I'm getting used to things I can't control, and despite my cynicism, I've been laughing a lot in the last week. When I try to swipe my badge to enter some area I've never been and the gate blocks me anyway--NO CLEARANCE!--I laugh. When I spot the most magnificent, unique mullet I've ever seen--tiny braids that curl under for the top layer, frizzy braid/dreads for the long, straight bottom layer--I laugh. When my coworker tells me a Mormon he knows is a Jack Mormon because he drinks Coke, I laugh. It's a good time.

I will post soon about my weekend. It was top notch!

Oh, Toto.

Wow.
I mean, wow.

I found a magic lamp, rubbed it, and asked the resident genie to grant me my wish of change. What a thorough genie he's proven to be!

Just so you can rest your worried heads about my whereabouts, know this: I have a roof over my head. I live with a nice hairstylist named Jenn. After my first day of new employment I am still employed, so....that's good. I, with my argyle knee socks; and they, with their name badges and security clearance and orientations and 120,000+ employees and dizzying array of buildings and traffic and cafeterias and sunrise shifts; we'll learn to co-exist.

I'm a long way from home, in more than geographical terms.
Here's to making it through to Saturday/beach/breathing/reveling in this change I chose! Huzzah!

In 11 days...

...I'll be living here:



I may be living in my car, but near my car will be a beach!

This is my formal announcement that I'M LEAVING UTAH. By way of fielding questions before they come, here's the deal:

I'm taking a job with Northrop Grumman, starting Nov. 30. I'll be a "graphic artist."
I hope to live in Huntington Beach, CA.
I don't know how I'm getting there.
I don't have a place to live yet.
Yes, I am sad to leave. Yes, I am terribly excited. Yes, it's 70º there right now.
Come and visit. There's room in my car.

Hooray for change!

11/11

It's 11/11 so I'm making a wish. Lots of wishes, actually. Because I figure on 11/11 you have 24 hours/1,440 minutes worth of wishes and that warrants a wishlist.

1--I wish I could be tan without going tanning or getting cancer (or spending money)
2--I wish to go to Thailand in December, 2010
3--I wish I had a personal chef. Not because I don't like cooking, but because I don't have time. I never eat vegetables unless it's a salad from Wendy's.
4--I wish we could all wear really light-weight, unobstructive, minimal clothing every day. Not in an effort to be immodest...but just to be less encumbered by fabric.
5--I wish I had the guts to sing on Broadway. Oh, and the talent.
6--I wish I only needed 4 hours of sleep each night.
7--I wish that by the time I have a baby they'll have figured out some other way for it to happen so I don't have to experience pain or the bizareness of a freaking HUMAN coming out of me.
8--I wish Utah weren't so landlocked.
9--I wish Obama weren't so dang electable. Well played, Democrats, well played.
10--I wish hot chocolate gave me good breath.
11--I wish I could live on a beach but there would be mountains and trees and skiing and a lake for waterskiing and all of my family and friends lived there too and we would all home school our kids together (so you only have to teach them a little bit each day) and there wouldn't be a lot of pollution or lights so you could see the stars every night and it would snow just for the month of December and have an October and November just like the one we're currently having and we wouldn't have to eat unless we really wanted to and in my job I would actually help people but in a way that's enjoyable to me and everybody would join the church and...yeah. Ahem. That about covers it.

I discovered with Laura once that when I wish on a star or on an 11:11 it's formulated more like a prayer than a wish. So now I say "11:11, make a prayer!" And most of my wish/prayers are constructed something like that last one, with very specific information and lots of it. I've seen enough movies where you have to be careful what you wish for (ala "Big", "13 Going on 30") so I don't want to leave any room for misinterpretation of what I want. It's not like I'm asking for a lot, you know?

Flight of the Majestic Eagle

Since no Halloween is complete without multiple costumes, I present the following:



You may think I look frightened. Not so. This is my fierce eagle scream, which, when hoisted by my waist (thereby cutting off most of my oxygen), sounds more like...a strange eagle warble. I'm trying to get a hold of some video so you can get the full effect.

And just because it's a fun memory for me, here's a picture of how my flight started out:



And afterward, there was a request that I do a final skate. That's when the eagle scream really came to life. I'm a mighty bird of prey.





Thanks, Natty and Ryan, for the goods.

Pier 39, here we come!

Next year, please remind me of how much I hate being painted on Halloween. Seriously, remind me. I'll remember right up until about a week before and then suddenly I'll decide it will be really cool to paint myself some color, completely forgetting about how uncomfortable it is.

But we look pretty sweet, right?



And here's to the Halloween crew--5 years running!

What's better than one zombie?

Siamese zombies. Yikes.

Mayorzee dotes and dozy dotes and little lamzee divey. A kiddlee divey too, wouldn't you?

That's definitely what I've always thought the words were. Is that the point of this song?

ANOTHER SCAM!

Just call me the gatekeeper.
I received an email today from a girl I barely know who used to be in my ward, asking me to send her money because she's stranded in Europe, having lost all of her money and identification. I wrote her back asking for some info to verify that it was her, knowing it was probably one of those scams where they hack into your email and mass email everyone in your address book. The creepy thing is that I got an email back! I emailed back and forth with this character, but they wouldn't verify anything, just kept asking for help. I've since called the girl and she's aware of the problem. What is this world coming to?! I'm conversing with a hacker, in plain English, and I have no way to catch them. Well, I say bring it. Once again, world, I'm here to tell you that YOU WILL NOT GET MY MONEY, AND I WILL NOT HELP YOU ESCAPE JUVY!

Stef=2
Criminals=0

Ghost of Me Past

I have a stack of CDs in my office, some of which are unmarked discs I've found when spring cleaning or something. Today I put in a blank CD and expected some forgotten music mix....but imagine my surprise when it came up titled "June 16, 2005" and contained only 10 files, all of which are pictures of me. All in the same setting, same clothes, etc. Just me. They look self-timed and probably had a purpose to them, but I don't remember doing that at all, nor do I know how they ended up on a CD in my office. I'm so freaked out.

So, apparently this is what was going on in June, 2005 (you may need to click the picture to see these fascinating details):
--This was 6 months after returning from a 4-month eating binge in Italy, so I look rather chubby here. It's nice to know that my wrists don't have dimples anymore
--I was still wearing lip liner
--My Dad's office was in serious need of a remodel
--Acne. That must have been when my acne started, and it hasn't let up
--A strange, little girl-ish hairstyle. But I had a great hair color I don't remember having. I might have to get that back.



My next unfamiliar CD is called "Road to Self-Discovery." I'm terrified to see what's on it.

Nara

To answer questions from my previous post, I will just simply say that the yogurt marination happened that day and I was so sicked out by it, for some reason. I still ate the yogurt but couldn't shake the feeling that I was eating hints of puppy waste...and that got me thinking about other things I've been grossed out by, or should have been grossed out by. I've decided germs are 98% mental, because none of us are consistent in what we're averse to.

Anyway! Ready for another Japan story?! I know I am! Roll the tape!!!!

In fair Japan lies a city named Nara, famed for only 2 things: A giant Buddha, and lots of deer. I don't know about you, but when I picture(d) Japan, deer had nothing to do with it. But...proud citizens always capitalize on whatever they can, so Nara has become Deer Town. Many signs, trinkets, and mascots lined the path to the park where Big Buddha is enshrined, promising us many delights to be had with mostly-domesticated deer.



I had been fed full of deer tales on our way, including one in which Chizu's friend was supposedly punched by a deer, right in the face. No, I thought, Bambi? I resolved inwardly that she must be mistaken. My experience with deer has placed them in the fantastical realm of myth up to this point--I 've seen them as elusive, docile, meadow-frolicking creatures who occasionally demonstrate roadside paralysis, or...mystical powers of flight and/or bewitchment (There's a story there, but it's not this one).
So I was ready to be enchanted.

Do you think this deterred me?



Heavens, no. If anything, the red lightning bolts only served to further entrench my fantastical notions about them. Besides, the sign was in Japanese.

And there we were! In the Land of Plentiful Deer! It was everything I'd ever imagined but hadn't ever imagined because who freaking thinks about deer, ever?!



Oh, it was magical. They were so kind, and gentle, walking right up to you and giving you a friendly nudge! I felt like Snow White, or Sleeping Beauty or whatever.

And then I saw this:


Deer fight. This unnerved me a little, I suppose. I made a mental note to steer clear of the big, mean-looking ones. They probably weren't deer anyway, since everyone knows deer are peace-loving animals.

I purchased packs of rice crackers and strolled to a slightly wooded area to begin some new friendships. My senses were buzzing, all six of them. One pretty little fawn came my way and pushed her nose into my hand for a treat. I happily obliged, giggling with delight at the human/deer physical contact. Then, to my surprise and slight unease, I noticed several deer trotting my way. Many, in fact. Trotting sort of fast. Snow White started feeling a bit, um, outnumbered.

And then, far too late, I saw one of the "mean-looking" ones approaching. And by approaching, I mean right next to me, snarling and staring at my bag of crackers with fire coming out of his eyes. I realized with horror that this was one of the "mean-looking" ones I had seen fighting earlier. Remember them?

Several things happened then. 1) I tried to convince myself that this, though angry, was still just a deer. Peace-loving, docile, enchanting, right? Right. 2) I contemplated running. But I never can keep the animal rules straight: Is it run when you see a bear and play dead when you see a skunk, or the other way around? I envisioned myself running and an angry deer chasing me, and we all know who would win that little footrace (Hint: Deer have 4 feet. Simple math). 3) In the absence of an escape plan, I instinctively withheld my bag of crackers from the approaching deer. You know, that whole give-a-mouse-a-cookie thing. Apparently I think I can subdue nature with tough love. BAD. IDEA.

Large angry deer circles me. Snorts. Nudges, real unfriendly-like, at my crackers. And then he freaking tries to gore me in the pelvic region. Remember this?



Yeah, more like this:



The evil deer threatened my loins, broke my favorite lens, bruised my inner/upper thigh, smudged weird deer goo all over that region, and left me with a mortal fear of the gentlest of God's creatures. Hit it and quit it. If that sucker had horns, he would have taken my unborn children.

Shudder.
So, yeah. That was Nara. We saw a really big Buddha there. And somehow, at the end of the day, I still felt a little bit like Snow White.

Germs

If your yogurt fell into a dirty gutter and marinated in sprinkler runoff for awhile before you noticed it, would you still eat it? Even if it's one of those Activia yogurts where the packaging seems alarmingly permeable? Would you?!

Would you rather walk barefoot through a mile of poop or lick a toilet clean?

Do you believe in the 10-second rule? Really and truly, do you think that when your food falls on the ground you have a quantifiable window of time before the army of germs finds out about it and swarms?

How often do you wash your sheets?

Do you set your purse on the ground everywhere you go? And then set it on your kitchen counter when you get home?

If you and your friends were on a train in Germany and found half-eaten candy bar (this is amazing German chocolate, remember), would you, under any circumstances, eat the remaining half, starting from the unopened end?

Chizu hoops

I taught the Big Cheeze how to jump rope with a hula hoop. She adds a decidedly gazelle-esque quality to it that I can't stop laughing at.

It seems I am slated for Asian relations in this life. I haven't really sought them out (not that I wouldn't...um, I love Asians...I love all people...), but I have found many delightful people of Asian descent in my path through life. First, there were various exchange students my parents brought into the home. One of them, named Sei, is still the scapegoat for anything that goes wrong in the house ("Sei did it!"). I guess he wasn't a favorite. Then, there was Ai. She lived with me for a semester of my freshman year. My interactions with her consisted of witnessing hangovers (hers) and smelling strange stir fry in the morning (also hers). She was a good time. The real Asian influence started happening in Italy, of all places. My roommates were Chizu (Japan), Ko Ko (Taiwan), and Cindy (American, for good measure...but she also had really dark hair). Later I dated The Asian (Korean), who my nephew mistakenly called The African. He served as the pied piper in bringing many Asians into my acquaintance.

I tell you this as a way to laboriously introduce my latest adventure, which was, of course, a trip to Asia. Most people who heard I booked a trip to Japan asked me one question: Why? I'm here to show and tell you why. And hopefully you'll see why you should go there too!

First of all, the Chizu. This girl is probably my favorite person alive at the moment. She moved into my bedroom in Florence, when I foolishly thought that I didn't want a roommate. She's me if I were Japanese, but about 18 times cooler. I say we are soul mates and I mean that in the least gay way possible. Gay way. Pei Wei. See, Asia again. It's everywhere.
Anyway, I love her and haven't seen her in about 3 years, so it was time for a visit. Cheap flight + half-Japanese traveling companion = Tokyo!

This is Chizu and the crew. They were a blast to hang out with. Also below are pictures of Koenji, the city where Chizu lives and where we stayed and enjoyed karaoke. Karaoke was one of my only requests of the entire trip.





Karaoke bonded us. We spent a lot of time in Koenji with these friends, and I loved how entertained they were by my attempts at speaking Japanese. I felt like their puppet and happily danced on command. I like that kind of attention, you know. Brayden, my travel mate, spoke Japanese so I don't know if he was nearly so entertaining to them, but he entertained me thoroughly 24/7, so I shall call him my puppet from here on out.

I'm tired of uploading photos already....but I shall persevere. I think I have one story in me for today, and it's a good one.

We traveled south to Kyoto, which is old world Japanese. Think pointy temples, scary demon statues, paper lanterns....and geishas.

That's right, I saw geishas. What's more, I became one.

Not in every sense of the word, mind you. I'm not sure geishas still exist in every sense of the word, but there is a geisha district called Gion where Chizu surprised me with a special appointment. We selected kimonos and wigs and were subjected to a startling transformation that resulted in each of us falling on the floor from laughing so hard. I present to you my female-escort alter-ego, Kiki:



What? You want to see my face?



This look is scary on all human beings, but considerably scarier on those humans not Asian. Stupid round eyes.

Anyway, we danced around and passed out from heatstroke due to the many layers of fabric and paint on us. And we laughed. Chizu probably pulled muscles from laughing so hard at me.

Here are a few more pictures of Gion and surrounding areas--Really cool. This is how I imagine Japan. Sadly, I don't really know what any of these things are. Welcome to how I travel.



More to come!

Coming soon...

Stay tuned for a story about why this:



And this:



...are responsible for one of the best times I've ever had.
The Japan report is forthcoming!

The hood

*Note: This is the picture that comes up when you Google "Juvenile delinquent"

Today is my work anniversary. 2 years! Huzzah. I knew it would be a special day, but I was none too prepared for its very exciting beginning. Observe:

There I was at 8:30, basking in my suburban bliss at my kitchen table and so spiritually studying my scriptures when I heard a ding dong dingg dong BAM BAM BAM sound at my front door. Anyone who comes calling that way is either up to no good, or is the UPS man. I opened the front door, expecting the latter, and was greeted by three teenage girls, panting and sweating and asking to come in and use my phone because they were under attack. ATTACK! So of course I let them in, told them to lock the door, and ran to get my phone. While they made some calls, I asked what happened and they told me they were walking to Trax when a man tried to pull one of them into his car. So they ran away as fast as they could. To my front door. It's a really welcoming front door, so I don't blame them. Now informed, I suggest we call the police as they call for a ride, and one girl says her uncle is in the police department so she'll tell him. Meanwhile, she calls a boy named "Babe" and asks him to pick her and "two chicks" up at the "some lady's" house because "something happened that I'll tell you about later." She then directs Babe to the area by telling him it's by Trax and Youth Services.

Hmmm.

Do you, the average blog reader, know about Youth Services? Yeah, I wouldn't either if I didn't live near it. Strange that these teenagers--aka YOUTH--know right where it is. Apparently Babe knows all about it too.

Hmmm. I may be just some old lady whose house they randomly chose, but I'm no dummy. My Sherlock sense was kicking in....albeit slowly.

So I ask questions. Where were you going? Where were you walking from? Who is this picking you up? How about that call to the police?

Things suddenly got less threatening outside. The girls realized they had an abundance of resources to call upon, namely friends' houses nearby, various rides who could pick them up at various locations, etc. And the scary man who tried to abduct them? No worries, he didn't follow them. For sure.

So....I let them go. Don't criticize me for my bad Samaritanism. My instincts told me that if the girls didn't feel any danger in returning to the streets of SoSaLa, then I didn't need to either. So I gave them water and sent them on their way. And then I made a call to my friend who works for Youth Services.

"Yes, indeed we are missing 3 girls. They ran away this morning."

I aided and abetted, with water and a phone.
I feel so used.
Youth of America, I'm sorry to tell you that this lady is totally going to rat you out if you come knocking on my door. It's for your own good.

Early Alzheimers

I'm worried about my memory. There are many signs that within 20 years I will be the Crazy Cat Lady down the street. For example:

* I've had a bag of pretzels at work that has been substituting for many meals. I went to reach for the bag yesterday and was dismayed to find them missing. Pretzel stealing, really? I found myself angry and disappointed in whatever desperate co-worker had committed such a crime. I went back to work, and as a couple of hours later I again wished for some pretzels to eat, into my mind flashed an image of me, polishing off the last of the pretzels and almost licking the bag to make sure I got every crumb...and then throwing the bag away. I ate all the pretzels myself, turns out. Heh heh....oops.

* I once forgot to wear a bra in 8th grade (um, because I didn't need one then) and it happened to be the day they do the scoliosis check, which, if you don't know, requires you to be shirtless.

* I shamelessly flirted once with a boy who, apparently, my friend had just declared her interest in. I was there, apparently, when she did so. To this day I have no recollection of that declaration, but enough witnesses have attested to my presence that I believe I was there and just completely forgot it.

* Sometimes I forget that the youngest children of my siblings exist. Sorry, siblings, but it happens. I remember distinctly that one time I looked at my niece Katie and couldn't figure out why Karly (her older sister) was so small.

* I forgot about a final in one of my last semester's classes. Just plain forgot about it. I mean, how this happens is beyond me, as there are many reminders about finals, like...calling it Finals Week. And studying. And taking lots of other finals.

The annoying thing is that I have a gift for remembering things that don't matter, i.e. my 8th grade crush's phone number/birthday/middle name/siblings' middle names/the first song I ever heard him play on the guitar. Also, hours and hours of movie lines and song lyrics are constantly playing through my mind, even when they are movies and songs I don't like. Once I memorize a phone number, it never leaves me....but I'll probably tell you a story 6 times before I remember that you've heard it before. Come to think of it, maybe I'm Rainman.

The other annoying thing is that it's the poorest excuse in the book. I know what it's like to have someone tell you they forgot something and to have absolutely no sympathy for that claim. I've always believed that if you forget something you probably don't care about it much. I no longer believe that. I think if you forget something you a) simply aren't obsessing about it; b) were trying to remember 50 things at exactly the same time and it just lost the battle of wits; and/or c) have a mind with the capacity for only so much, and at this time seems to be rather full of useless information. So....sorry. Sorry for the things I forget. I'm not sure what it will take to get your birthday to take the place of Paul's phone number in my brain.

Looking for a way to drop those extra pounds?

Look no further.
Total Sauna

This just in

I'm in the mood to be in love. I'm just not that willing to do what it takes to get there. Any ideas?

PS Hooray for Jeanine.

So I Think I Can Dance

Well, check this one off the list: 5 years of really big talk and not-so-secret longings culminated in one heck of a day this July 24th. As any true pioneer descendent would, I chose to spend Utah's holiday seeking out fame, fortune, and the Hot Tamale Train. I officially auditioned for So You Think You Can Dance, Season 6.

A timeline:
11:00 am -- Lining up



12:00 p.m. -- Spirits are still up. These are the same clothes I wore while running a 10k at 6am that same morning. This turned out to be a really bad idea...



1:00 p.m. -- Sleep?


No way. Not when Cat Deeley is around! For the record, I did see her in person. She's very pretty. No pictures because I was threatened with death if my camera were to make an appearance.

1:30 pm -- Break dance fighting? Stretching? It's a little too early for that. The children are getting restless. We eat granola bars and carrots.



2:00 pm -- DIVA. Yes, her costume includes a tail.



3:00 pm and still waiting outside -- Is this worth it?



4:00 pm -- More waiting inside, still not in the actual theater. Rachel starts warming up. Still too early for that.



5:00, 6:00, 7:00 pm -- Finally get inside the theater and see some amazing dancing. And sort of make friends with this guy:


(Shortly after this picture, I am told to put away camera. And cell phone.)

8:00 pm -- Granola bar and carrots no longer holding us over, we prison break for some food. Share said food with starving hip hop girl behind us.

9:00, 10:00, 11:00 pm-- The lost hours. In a coma of no sleep and no movement for 12 hours. Realize, in a strangely liberating way, that I don't have the heart to be a dancer (you didn't have the feet; I don't have the heart). It becomes clear that I am different than these people. And I am not in fact willing to do this sort of thing ever again because...I'd rather watch fireworks. Or sit by a pool. Or watch dance shows on TV. Heart is what motivates people to do ridiculous, torturous things to advance themselves. Well, that and talent. This realization (and, let's be honest, intense physical discomfort and an impatient nature) makes me suddenly very apathetic to the whole thing. Nervous no longer, I long for my bed.

11:50 pm -- Rachel auditions. Captivates judges and secures only gold advancement ticket* in her whole group! So proud, so proud.

11:51 pm -- After much contemplation, I officially declare myself a "broadway" style dancer...and head backstage.

11:55 pm -- Take the stage with Superman pictured above and 8 other hip hoppers. Make eyes at Pasha and Anya from Season 3. Am denied the chance to audition because very weary British judge forgets I'm there.

11:59 pm -- Remain on stage, this time with a group of contemporary dancers. Continue making eyes so the judges will love me and, ahem, remember that I'm there.

12:00 am -- Saunter to center stage for my Broadway debut....strike a dramatic, saucy pose..."All That Jazz" music starts.....and I blank out. The world may never know what happened in those 30 seconds because they were a blur and a fog and a whirlwind of snapping, prancing about, and undoubtedly several 'huzzah' type moves. I honestly don't remember much of what happened. But it was sure fun!

12:01:55 am -- I am unceremoniously dismissed from the competition (what?! No ticket to Vegas?!) when the yellow ticket train passes me by. I am very relieved, because I'd like to sleep and have a real weekend.

12:05 am -- Mad dash of pure fear-induced adrenaline as I sprint to my car, which is parked by Pioneer Park.

12:15 am -- Arrive home and realize said car was unlocked, by Pioneer Park, for 13 hours. With my purse inside. Shrug it off. Also realize that 6am sweat, followed by 11am - 4pm sweat, followed by 5pm-12am sweat results in severe chaffing, among other things. Gross.

12:30 am -- Shower and fall into bed. The end.

*By way of answering your burning questions, Rachel was called back for tryouts on Sunday, where she did a quick improv dance in front of Mary, Nigel, Mia Michaels, and Cat. She didn't make it past that round, but I'm almost guaranteeing some camera time.

Wanderlust

Dear BlogFans:
I know I haven't been good to you. Summer finds me anywhere but in front of a computer if I can help it, so I've been negligent. I ask forgiveness. I also ask a giant favor:

Please help me totally revamp my life.

I'm talking change. Specifically, change in locale. I love Utah, but this itch to go somewhere new has reached fever status and my skin is starting to get all red and welty. So what I need from you is a hook-up. Please call in any resources you have to find me a new situation somewhere. I know the job market is bad. I know the cost of living anywhere awesome is much higher. I DON'T CARE. Operation Get Stef Out of Dodge begins now. Here is my criteria:

1) I must get paid. Or at least break even (I can't afford to go on a humantarian aid thing that costs thousands, sadly).
2) First priority goes to any opportunities out of the country.
3) I'm a little too sensible to pick up and move somewhere without a viable plan. So if you know of a job or internship somewhere, that would fit better than just a friggin sweet place to live.
4) I would like to leave tomorrow. AKA ASAP.
5) I'm a graphic designer, so if you hear of anything in that field, let me know. But I can also do flowers, write, work in the event industry, dance on hit television shows, I'm interested in non-profit companies, and lately I want to become a teacher. I know, what?
6) Um...please don't tell my boss about this post. I'm grateful for my current job, really....

That's pretty much it. So really, if you've heard of anything cool that's available, or if you have contact information for somebody who would know, send it all my way.

And here's a creepy little picture to help you understand how I'm feeling right now:

Inspiring

From our hike to Bell Canyon on Saturday.

Olan Mills Puppy

Summer Project

Allow me to introduce Buttercup. She and I are going to be great friends this summer.



I found her, forlorn, on top of a mattress is somebody's junk pile. She just needs a little love and a ride into the sunset to be restored to her former glory. Stay tuned for the fix up progress.



....and sometimes I find other things on the street.