News and Thoughts and Stuff

It is a common misconception that the artists imagination is always producing work--constantly inventing and creating new pieces of art or filling page after page in sketchbooks. While I, as an artist, have sketchbooks filled with ideas and unfinished drawings--I am not constantly producing art as some may think.
Unfortunately.
I would like to be.
But I'm not.
I hit creative "walls" and sometimes nothing I try works out. For this reason, I don't like taking commissioned work. Some may call this a lack of confidence--I just call it being selfish. In a good way that few understand. I create for me, even though I share with others.
However, I'm also a people pleaser and sometimes have a hard time saying No. So I've taken on three commissioned works all of which I'm having a hard time completing because I've hit a "wall".
I'll get them done. And I won't give them over until I'm satisfied with the work...but they just loom over me. I'm procrastinating working on one right now by writing about how I don't want to work on it.

In other news, which I'll keep short and sweet in this nice list:

-I'm not moving for another couple of months.
-I sliced my foot open a month ago, received nine stitches and am 'lovingly' referred to as Frankenfoot.
-I'm re finishing a couple of really cool chairs. I was going to sell them but I think I'll just keep them because they're that cool.
-I got a ticket crossing the bay bridge because the ticket lady didn't enter in that I paid the toll before I crossed through. I'm ticked.
-I had a birthday and got new glasses. Two unrelated events.
-I received a slight raise at work.
-And I've taught myself to burp on command. (Probably not something I should be sharing but I've always wanted to be able to know how to command my own burps. I'm both proud and disgusted with myself.)

I don't have any photos to share. A disappointment, I know. Oh, maybe not for any readers-but for me, whenever I look back through this blog. I'll be so bored without anything to look at.

And Just Like That...

Its over. Its come and gone and months and months of planning and prep work have come and gone in just a few short days. SO much happened this last week. I know this is Girls Camp-meant for the girls, but I always come away from this experience feeling stronger and wiser and ready to be a better person.
I had a couple of experiences with these girls that I wanted to write down...but instead of the experience itself, I want to remember the lesson learned...and lessons relearned.
First, we chose to come to this earth, to follow the Savior's plan. We knew it would be hard, and that we would make mistakes and it would be very difficult. Christ offered himself as a sacrifice to atone for our sins to make our lives easier. He became our redeemer, making it possible to return to our father in heaven.
We are constantly faced with choices. Whatever circumstance we may find ourselves in, we will always have the ability to choose. Always.
Having this ability also means we have a responsibility to choose.
The adversary is always there, waiting and hoping to claim us and bring us to his side. We hear him telling us it's not worth it. "It doesn't matter" "No one even cares".
We have been given tools to help combat these false phrases. And that is prayer. It is through reading the scriptures. We have the right tools to make the correct decisions.
Courage is needed. We need to have the courage to say no. But also to yes. The " yes" can be harder to say sometimes. Yes I will go to church. Yes I will read my scriptures. Yes I will go to seminary. Yes I will live righteously. 

There are consequences to our decisions. Whether we realize it or not. We are responsible for them. We can alter our lives in an instant. We alter our own lives, and also our brothers, sisters, parents, those we love and who love us, and those who we didn't know even cared in the first place. Some choices are irreversible, unfortunately. Many are not. But even after irreversible decisions are made, we will always be able to change our course. Always. Regardless circumstance.
These girls I worked with and alongside of have an even greater responsibility than I did at their age. The world is hard, and mean, and cruel. They set the example of righteousness for the rest of us. I am in complete awe at their determination and their will to live righteously. I've seen their faith In the Savior and in His plan.
They are strong.
They are courageous.
They are smart.
And I love them and feel so blessed that was able to be able to get to know them more as individuals.
They may have looked to me as their leader all week...but I look to them as examples of faith and testimony and strength.
I hope that I can be more like them.

Challenge Accepted

Girls Camp is just two weeks away. A lot of planning and prep work still needs to get done. I'm so excited to spend a week with some amazing YW  and fantastic leaders. I'm probably biased but our camp is better than anyone else's. And we're combining stakes this year so that makes us double better.
Our YCLs this year have totally stepped up and taken on more responsibility and I'm so proud of them. I remember a few of them when they were just little 12 year olds coming to camp for the first time. They've grown up so much and are pretty much running the show now. They're amazing.
Last night at our YCL sleepover the girls were issued a challenge for the next fifteen days until camp.
1. Tell themselves every day that they are a daughter of Heavenly Father who loves them.
2. Read their scriptures every day. Even if its just one verse.
3. Pray for inspiration to know how to help the other girls at camp
4. Cut out technology that's not uplifting. Turn off the TV or Facebook or certain music that keeps the Spirit from their home.
5. Show kindness to someone every day, as well as taking note of how someone is kind to them.
At camp, they'll share their experiences from this challenge with the other girls.
When we were talking about this challenge, one girl mentioned how much better our lives would be if everyone accepted this challenge every single day for forever. How much happier we would be, and grateful, and more joyful.
During the sleepover last night, I didn't see any of the YW using their phones for anything other than taking pictures. They put them away and were talking and laughing and mentioned more than once that they love camp because they're cut off from the rest of the world. (Really that's by force because there's no service up there....but still.....)
These girls are great, and they make me want to be a better person and a better example to those around me. I'm thrilled that I get to be apart of this experience with them.

Note to self:

You deleted all the photos accidentally. You don't know how or when you deleted them-but they're gone. Don't spend a million hours trying to get them back or re-uploading them. You checked your computer and they all seem to be there but you don't understand google enough to fix this. It's okay. You're still very smart and somewhat technologically savvy (even though it took you a few tries to spell 'technologically'. That's okay too. You're just not a great speller. Remember in the sixth grade spelling bee you got out on the word 'congratulations' because you couldn't remember if it was congraTulations or congraDulations?)
Anyway, the point is- the photos are gone. Whatever. Your old posts will just look boring with no photos. Also this one because you don't have any pictures to share today. Next time.

Also, your hair looked really good today. Good Job!

Today

Today was a good day. I didn't have to go to work. But that's not why it was a good day. 

I woke up, drew a little, organized my dresser, had a newborn photoshoot (where I literally sweat out 10 lbs all over their house. It was gross. And I want to publicly apologize to them and to anyone else I've ever sweat in front of. It's not pretty and I don't know why I was because it's not like I was running a marathon or anything.) edited said photos, and made lunch (where I also sweat some more because my house is blazing hot and turning on the oven made it almost unbearable) for me and my friends at work tomorrow. Last week I brought in the pot pie that I made, and they've requested it again. This time I made one that was lactose free-which I was skeptical of tasting good but it DOES. It's delicious. Instead of the cream of mushroom and sour cream and milk I use for the gravy stuff, I blended up some sautéed onions, oil, cashews and chicken stock. I'm hooked. And I'm not even a fan of pot pie. In fact...they kinda gross me out. But I'm excited to share this meal with them. 

So it was a good day. 

Tomorrow will be a good day too.

Wanderlust

Last year I took a road trip. When I said goodbye to Vegas, I packed up my truck and drove around for about a month. I drove through Utah and Idaho, spent most of my time in Washington and drove down the Oregon coast. I stopped when I wanted, met a lot of cool people, spent time at different beaches and I loved every minute of it.
Sometimes when I get into my truck to go to work in the mornings, I have an urge to keep driving. Drive to the beach, turn north and not stop.
I'm a coastal baby for sure.

One of my favorite novels is Travels With Charley by John Steinbeck. I've read it four times, and every time I pick it up I want to build my own camper on top of my truck, get a dog and hit the road. There's one part in there where Steinbeck talks about how when you've been away at sea for a long time, you can feel the land calling you home. And when you've been inland too long, you can smell the sea air miles and miles before you ever see it.
I felt that way before I reached the Oregon coast. I could tell I was close. I'd been inland for over a year and my heart raced knowing I was so close to feeling sand between my toes.
Perhaps one of these days...hopefully soon...I can be on the road again.

The Great Cookie Fiasco of 2014.

I'm not sure what happened. The dough was delicious but the first batch I baked, burnt completely. The other turned out part burnt, part mushy. On the third I felt so defeated I just dumped a bunch of dough on the cookie sheet to see what would happened.
And do you know what? It came out looking like a cow pie.
The final batch I'm not sure about because I gave up and threw it in the trash.
I took a bite of one of these "cookies" and promptly spit it out.
And I never spit out my food.
This kind of sums up that whole day. Nothing went right, and everything tasted like like a dirty sock.
I almost never want to make cookies again.
Almost.
My love for cookies might get me back in the kitchen again someday.

Probably tomorrow.

Slightly Green Thumb

Every summer, our little family would pack up the car and head to Nibley, Utah to see our grandparents and cousins and aunts and uncles and have a grand time. We would pull up to our grandparents house after dark, walk in through the garage, have some bread and butter and go to bed. Lyndsey and I would trade off sleeping on the narrow settee and the twin mattress we'd lay out in the living room. Sometimes we would cram on the mattress and fall asleep to the deep melodic snores coming from our grandma, who always slept in her chair. She stopped sleeping in with grandpa because....he snored. Haha.
Everyday I'd play outside with my sister in the irrigation ditch that ran alongside the yard. I'd watch my grandpa garden in the back of the house. He'd tell me which were the peas and which were the carrots because a little city kid like me surely couldn't tell the difference. Grandma would help us shell the peas or I'd help water the yard, which usually ended with me just laying on the ground with the hose on me because it was so hot. A kid born and raised in the bay area is a pansy in anything over 71°.
My favorite part was watching the plants grow.
When my grandpa was done with his work, he'd come inside, share some squeaky cheese and force me to eat sweet onions like an apple. He'd walk back into the laundry room and stare at his garden.
"Can't you see the carrots growing?"
I swore I saw them sprout out of the ground.
I love gardening.
I love getting dirt on my hands.
I love being outside and watching the plants grow.
Someday, I'll have my very own yard and won't be so limited as to what I can do.
I will grow carrots and peas and I will sit the middle of my yard and watch them grow.

You get a muffin...

And you get a muffin, and YOU get a muffin...

Today I thought I would make some muffins. I wanted to try out a new recipe. Blackberry Banana Oatmeal Muffins. Delicious.
They turned out pretty good-although they looked a little flat and weird.
It's what's on the inside that counts, right?

Today I learned that pouring flour into your measuring cup is a bad idea. Sometimes you lose control of the flour bag and drop in-basically the whole thing. And then, instead of wasting all that good flour, you have to add in a ton more ingredients...which will give you dozens upon dozens of muffins.
Good things I have friends to force my wares on.

I should have taken a picture. But I didn't. I was a little preoccupied with my armfuls of muffins.
Instead, here's a photo I took just a bit ago.
I love this photo.

7/7

Every day this week, I've come home from work, turned on Frozen, sprawled out on my floor and painted. When Frozen is over, sometimes I'll wait until it just starts playing again. Or I'll put on Freaks and Geeks or Northern Exposure.
So far this week, I've painted seven nursery rhymes, watched Frozen five times (its to the point where whenever Let It Go comes on, I've stopped pointing and waving like magic will come from my fingers. But aside from lack of character development- not bad Disney), and a whole season of Northern Exposure.
Productive?
Some would say no.
I say YES!
Definitely.
And I've showered every day...so double productive.

I'll probably be putting Frozen on for the sixth time tomorrow.
I'm going for seven out of seven days.

Pop and Lock

I'm getting really good at it. Only I do less locking and a whole lot of popping.
I've been doing yoga for the past month now and everything seems to be loosening up, which is good. My neck feels good and my back doesn't feel as tight and I can put my whole hand on the floor when I stretch...well...kinda.
Having any kind of chest makes it hard to bend and fold.
But I still count it.
However, all my joints have been popping.
Like, to the point that when I get up at work, my coworkers ask if I'm okay.
Is this normal?

Puke Chair

There's no point to this post other than to show you my puke chair. 

It's not literally a puke chair.

Well, it could be...I bought it for $15 dollars at a DI. The previous owners could have thrown up in it and I would have never known.

It's just the color of puke, so that's what I named it.

It's also the most comfortable chair I've ever sat in- even if it was broken and leaned/creaked when you rocked in it. I had it for my whole college career. One semester I lost my ipod...and two semesters and one move later-I found it in my chair.

Also, I came across this picture of my friend Tami.
I think this is funny only because I know that pie is frozen.

And I have now successfully blogged about a chair.

Ladders and Walls and Things

I've been wondering lately if I'm too picky.

My sister works really hard and deals with unpleasant things at her job because she knows it will benefit in the long run. 

If I'm not happy with what I'm doing or where I'm working...I stop and do something else that I consider to be more fun. Sometimes (most of the time) the pay is less, and it takes me a little longer to get back on track.

Basically I'm poor. All the time.

I've turned down two jobs, two opportunities to have my own classroom, because they didn't feel right. 

Is that me being picky? 

Should I be sacrificing my happiness now and take a job (the kind that I want), even though it's not a fun as I know it can be, because it will help me professionally further down the line?

Does this even make sense to anyone?

Today in church our Bishop was talking about how each of us are climbing some kind of ladder to get to the top of whatever wall we hope to get over. We climb higher and higher, sometimes going where none have gone before, achieving different things professionally, personally etc. 

Unfortunately, sometimes when we reach the top of the ladder, we realize that it was leaning against the wrong wall. 

What kind of wall is my ladder leaning against? I'm a big believer in following my gut and doing what makes me happy. But has climbing up the "happy ladder" made me lazy?

I'm just going to answer my own question here and say no. 

I think my ladder is on the right wall. 

Even though it may take me longer to get to where I want to be professionally, I know I'm going to be happy the whole way up. 

Good talk you guys!

Here's a totally unrelated photo for this post.

(I took this photo on my road trip last summer...somewhere in Oregon. That day I checked out of the gross motel I stayed in and stopped at almost every beach on my drive down the coast. At this particular beach, I felt a like I was going to be sick. And not the throw up kind.
I literally had to sit on a rock to keep from messing my pants. TMI? Probably. Let's just say I'm grateful I had a couple tissues and that part of that beach was secluded that morning.
It took me a half hour to make my way back up the path to my truck. Maybe next time I drive down the Oregon Coast, I'll skip this particular beach.)

My Cousin Ate A Bee

But doesn't remember.

We were eating pizza outside on our grandparents lawn. Morgan started freaking out, threw her slice on the ground and ran inside. I looked over and there was a bee on her pizza right where she took a bite. She didn't come back outside for the rest of the night. 

She says that never happened. 

But it did. 

She ate a bee.

I don't like bees. I'm afraid of them.

It's one of my biggest fears.

Along with really strong wind when it's dark outside. I think I might be alone in that one though...

So it's super cool that we discovered a hive on the palm tree in our backyard. I think a bird flew into it or something and disrupted them because there were THOUSANDS of bees buzzing around. 

I had a hard time leaving my house. 

I knew once I stepped foot outside they would be able to sense my fear and buzz straight for my face.

One summer, my mom had us rake the leaves outside. Instead of putting them in the garden bin, my sister and I decided to throw them up in the air and make it rain. We were fully enjoying the leaves falling all around us when I felt something on the palm of my hand. I brushed it off on my pants, but I felt like it was still there. I looked down at my hand and there was a GIANT bee clinging on for dear life. I just stood there...staring at it....and then I watched it sting me and fly off.
My mom had zero sympathy. I think it's because she had to comb all the twigs and leaves that were ratted up in my hair.

One time I stepped on a bee and it stung me between my toes. I let out a yelp and fell to the ground in the fetal position, clutching my foot.
There were a lot of people around. Probably wondering why that girl is making crazy eyes at her foot.
Tears were shed.
I don't think I got the whole stinger out because my toe swelled up and itched like crazy for a whole two months.

I think I might be allergic.

Even If You Fall On Your Face

"Even if you fall on your face, at least you're still moving forward"-Victor Kiam

Unless you're me...and your face gets stuck in the mud.

Today I was recounting all the different times I've fallen.
Just last saturday, my friend was picking me up and as I was walking over to her car, I cut across a corner on my lawn and fell in the biggest gopher hole known to man.
The devil rats are back and have burrowed their way all across my yard.
My foot got stuck and I'm convinced my favorite pair of shoes are ruined. (Although I think I just need to take a wet rag to it. I might be overreacting. But probably not.)
So while my friend is waiting for me to get my leg out of this hole, I slip out of my shoe and dig it out of the ground and run back inside to grab a new pair of shoes.
I had dirt all over my dress the rest of the day.

When I was in fifth grade, I was walking back to class from the playground. I had on my favorite red and white striped one piece jumper playsuit/romper.
I think at this point I was getting too tall for it.
I'll leave it at that.
This has nothing to do with the story.
I was walking backward talking to my friend and backed right into a pole from the basketball hoop so hard that I stumbled forward and fell on my face. My friend stood there and laughed at me.
I have cool friends.

In college, I was a janitor. One of my jobs was to salt the entryways. As I was salting, and debating any side effects of licking the salt from the bucket, I slipped.
I wasn't walking or anything. I stood up from a bended position, and fell. Like someone came and knocked my feet out from under me. One second I was up...the next...out.
Good thing I salted the entryway?

Last year I was walking along a sidewalk and tripped.
Now, usually when you see people walking and they trip, they just stumble a little, and break into a slow jog to keep from falling. And they usually look back at whatever they tripped on. How dare that crack be there.
When I tripped, I stumbled, and broke into a slow jog...but that jog did not help me catch my balance.
I was jogging parallel to the ground. Then I was running. Then my arms were flailing.
This story has a happy ending though.
My face broke my fall and skidded into the one little patch of muddy water for blocks.
I just stayed there...assessing the situation. Am I broke? How long was that fall? What time is it?

Mostly I just have horrible balance and am constantly run into things: walls, doors, furniture, and have 'accidentally' touched a lot of butts running into people.

Sometimes when I'm telling my friends funny stories I get caught up in my own humor and I laugh hysterically and can't actually tell the story through gasping for air between laughs.
And then when I really think about it--the story isn't all that funny. It's usually one of those "had to be there" moments.
I think most of my stories might be those kinds of stories, but whatever.
No one reads this blog anyway.

Idaho

A few years ago, my sister and I were driving back to school in Idaho from a weekend in Utah. We somehow ended up on some back roads instead of the highway. We had no clue where we were but the drive was nice and the weather was beautiful. 

As we drove on, we both started to get tired and hungry. We passed some old buildings that were run down and looked like they were going to be bulldozed soon. 

I thought about how cool they must have looked inside and I told Lyndsey that I should have stopped to get some photos. 

The thought that I had missed a potentially good photo opportunity was eating away at me. However, it was hot outside and I just wanted to get back to my apartment to shower. 

I'm really glad that I turned the car around.

That day I learned that sometimes you have to do things that aren't ideal...but if you put in the effort, the pay off is beautiful.

This Valentine's Day

I read five stories, shared four strawberries, changed three diapers, tickled two bellies and watched one garbage truck.

 Happy Valentine's Day!

February 14th 1999

I was sitting in Mr. Berwick's class at Rollingwood Elementary School at my desk getting ready to go to the Library with the rest of my class.
My little heart raced as I slipped a piece a paper, folded into fourths, into my pocket before we lined up at the door.
We walked across the courtyard to the library, and while everyone was busy looking at books, I asked Mr. Berwick if I could go back to the classroom because I forgot a book that I needed to return.
He let me go.
I raced back to the classroom, made my way up the rows to the very front of the classroom, opened the desk and laid the folded piece of paper neatly on top of the jumbled mess inside.
This was not my desk.
It was a boy's desk.
It was THE boy's desk.
The boy that I had a super crush on.
I wrote him a little love note from a "secret admirer" for valentines day.
I didn't want to slip in the brown paper bags we had decorated for the exchange later that day. I wanted it to be separate...it was more romantic that way.
I closed the desk, ran to mine and grabbed the book I purposefully left behind and raced back to the library.
When we returned back to our classroom, I watched nervously as he opened his desk, found the note, read it, and then looked around the classroom. Our eyes met but he had no clue.
He asked my best friends about it on the playground at recess, and through many secret exchanges of letters, I finally told him that it was me.
I wrote his love letter.
I was so nervous now that he knew, but he said, "I like you too".
And he asked me out.
I said yes.
We played tetherball together at recess, and he showed me his new Adidas that made him run faster. We would split sticks of gum over by the fence so the yard supervisors wouldn't see our contraband Doublemint.
For two days, we were a happy couple.
But as most 6th grade romances go, it wasn't meant to be and we broke up.
He went back to running around, playing soccer with his friends, and I returned to the basketball courts with mine.
We graduated from the 6th grade and ended up going to different middle schools.
Occasionally we'd see each other when our school teams played each other and we would smile and wave at each other.
Now, whenever I see a pair of Adidas, I just grin.

S is for Sunday

S is also for Sugar

I made a rookie mistake today in primary by giving my kids candy at the beginning of class.

And while we were waiting in the hall with the other classes for junior primary to let out, I gave them more candy. 

I'm a genius, I know.

Next week they get treats after church is over...on their way out the door....so they can be on sugar highs at home.

After lunch today, I was reading through some conference talks from last October. I love this talk by Elder Edward Dube. I also love this quote:

Happy Sunday!

Fridays

Today I spent the morning with Strega Nona and Big Anthony. I played with puzzles, rolled on the floor and rocked a baby to sleep.