I don't wanna be right

I kind of love the smell of cigarette smoke. But it's only one specific kind. I do NOT love cigarette smoke when it

is being expelled near me
gets into upholstery and ruins it forever
is on someone's breath
is anywhere near children, and I think that people who smoke in kids' breathing space should be slapped around and then forced to breath gasoline fumes until they kill off their three remaining brain cells--but that's neither here nor there

The kind of cigarette smoke that I like is the faint suggestion kind. When I was little I associated it with carnivals, which were pretty much my favorite. That was back when I could ride scary rides and be upside down without prayiing for death.

Now it makes me think of London and Paris and Rome and big European cities in the summertime. One whiff and I'm there, all happy. The other day I was at the Gateway Mall and it happened. Wonderful, wonderful.

My sister Jenny thinks I'm beyond insane, but I know I'm not. Amyjane gets it. Right after we got back from Rome in 2002 she stepped into an ATM vestibule where someone had been smoking. She stayed in there, breathing deeply with her eyes closed. That's what I'm talking about.

Best birth control ever

Last night I watched the babies while Jenny and Ed spent a night at the Hines Mansion Bed & Breakfast. I was happy to help out, but by the time they came home I was SO very ready to be done. And I don't know why anyone would actually sign up to be a single parent. Ever. I mean, I realize that life happens, and nobody had ever be thinking that if my husband turns out to be a creep that I won't leave his trash because I so will, and I'll take all his money, even if I have three sets of twins and some of them are in wheelchairs. It's just that not once during those 18 hours did I think, "Hey, you know what would be cool? If EVERY DAY were just like this."

I got off relatively easy, though. The kids went to bed nicely, Ethan only woke up screaming once at 3:00am, and then he slept until 7am. For Jen that's a luxurious night. As an added treat, Amyjane & Sean stopped by (without cute Baby Patrick) and ended up staying the night rather than driving through the snow to Idaho. So they got to watch me stagger around all bleary-eyed and frog-voiced in the morning. They hid their smiles behind bowls of Life cereal and didn't even mock my parenting nonskills until they got in their car, which was good of them. There was much to mock, though, as Savannah and I went the rounds about what kind of cereal she was going to have, what kind of bowl it was going to be in, what amount of cereal was proper, which spoon to use, and which seat to sit in. Basically she wanted it to be Weirdo Opposites Day on account of feeling all abandoned by her parents. After breakfast we sat on the couch to watch Charlie & Lola and every 45 seconds she would turn to me all panic-eyed and plead, "Momma hold you? Momma hold you? Momma hold you????"

Me: "Yes, Momma will hold you as soon as she gets home."

Savvy, whimpering: "Okayokayokay!"

Now imagine that happening about 18 times. And then resist the urge to beat your head against a wall.

The Christmas with the nesting

Santa was so very good to me this year. Can anyone else tell how excited I am to be getting back into my own place where I can do things like cook and put up decorations? Here were some of my Christmas presents, which caused much gasping for joy (following by coughing and wheezing) by the tree.





Then with some Christmas money from my grandma (and my own dwindling resources) I bought myself some more presents. I think I'm going through some mad fling of financial recklessness because I know I'm going to have to knuckle down to an unforgiving budget very, very soon. Then I will at least be able to read about lovely foods while eating my ramen noodles.

For starters, these towels are quite possibly the cutest things I've ever seen and we can't be friends if you don't agree. They're part of the Martha Stewart Everyday line at Kmart. Seriously, if you have 10 bucks, go buy yourself some. They're probably not made of cotton woven by the hands of virginal convent dwellers or anything, but I don't care. They're darling. I haven't decided yet if I'm going to let people touch them.

This hardback 1997 copy of The Joy of Cooking was under $10. I realize it's not the newest edition, but I don't care. My eyes have been opened to a wonderful new world made up of hundreds and hundreds of creamy sauces. I say bring on that world.


These amazing-smelling soaps were on sale at Bath & Body Works, so I bought several. A beloved few of you may receive these as birthday gifts throughout the year, if I can bear to part with them.

Other triumphs included a set of kitchen candles good enough to eat (in French Lavendar, Green Tea Wasabi, & Pink Grapefruit) from Williams-Sonoma at 75% off. And 4 beautiful silver snowflake candle holders at Bath & Body Works at 50% off. They look like this, but smaller.

Today I found myself lusting after a 17-piece set of French White Corningware at Costco. That's when I knew it was time to Calm the Heck Down. Because it's not like I'm buying my own place or getting married or anything like that.

So. Now that I have unleashed my Inner Consumer and given her a chance to play, it's time to buckle back down to my usual system of irrational frugality and erratic self-denial.

Good times, good times.

Happy Boxing Day

Here's a quick update before I go lie down and moan weakly.

Christmas Highlights:

Felt lots better on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day
Watched Savvy & Baby Ethan get all excited about their presents
Wonderful food, including macadamia nut pancakes Christmas morning, with strawberries and whipped cream
Beautiful sunny day
Everyone got along, mostly
Talked to coolboy on the phone (missionaries only call home twice a year). He sounds good, but worried us when he said he'd been living on potato chips and soda.
Drove around to look at Christmas lights
Everyone liked their Christmas presents
I especially liked my Christmas presents, because they were great. Will blog about them later.

Christmas Lowlights:

I don't feel better anymore
We missed coolboy and Uncle Dave
Air mattresses are COLD, y'all. Do not ask me why this is, but it's true.
Savvy got a red strawberry shortcake recorder in her stocking. It was very cute at first, but now I kind of want to throw it off a cliff. That thing is loud. And possibly evil.

This creature is stirring

Yay, the Internet is working! I'm on Ed's computer and it's Christmas Eve. I hope everyone is well and happy and is with family and/or friends.

This morning we drove up to Temple Square to watch Music and the Spoken Word. My Dad pretty much has to see it when he's here. Watching today I was struck by the difference between this concert and their big huge Christmas concert, which I saw on Dec 16th.

The biggest difference was Sissel. She was the guest performer and I cannot say enough about her. She was amazing--her voice, her clothes, the way she just looks like the nicest, most talented person in the world who would just come to your house and be your friend and sing to you sometimes. I kind of couldn't even breathe when she sang--her voice was like crystal drops from heaven. And she made it look absolutely effortless, as though it's just normal to sound like some sort of angel every time you open your mouth.



She was not there this morning.

The children were, though.

For some reason a whole bunch of people thought that a great idea would be to bring their toddlers in to see Music and the Spoken Word in the hopes that the shrieks of their howler monkey children would make it into the broadcast so that listeners in the farm houses of Nebraska could hear them. I could not believe it. The website clearly states that children under 8 are not invited to performances. I understand that people with really mature and well-behaved 6-yr-olds might want to stretch the rules. And, you know, whatever. But I cannot believe the people who just sat there while their kids screeched. They had a section designated for the people with kids, which maybe is out of the recording equipment's range. But I could hear them. It was pretty much constant. And it almost made me lose my Christmas spirit, I tell you.

The other funny bit was when they finished and everyone in the audience leapt to their feet to give a standing ovation. You already know how I feel about that. I gave a standing ovation at the Christmas concert, because it really was that spectacular. This was just a normal Sunday. Afterwards the announcer said, "Thank you for that generous response." Which I'm pretty sure is his version of an eye-roll.

So, bottom line: Just because something has the word "Mormon" in the title, that does NOT make it some kind of free-for-all for your kids to ruin. Not that I blame your children, because it's not their fault. It's yours.

Other bottom line: Sissel is amazing, and Sissel + Mormon Tabernacle Choir = standing ovation.

Third bottom line: Merry Christmas!!!

because it's better if these things can happen all at one

I think I have the flu. I woke up yesterday morning with knives in my throat. Also I ache everywhere. I knew I should've got a flu shot. I feel kind of like the blonde in the joke who went to visit her doctor because no matter where she touched herself it hurt. She had a broken finger. I don't, though. I'm just ill and dying.

And I don't have a luxurious Queen-sized bed with Egyptian cotton sheets and a down comforter anymore because my parents are using it now that they're in town. So I slept (fitfully) on the couch last night. At 6:30am (also known as 15 minutes after I finally fell asleep) the children woke up and started poking their fingers into my mouth and slamming Charlie & Lola books in my face. I staggered into their vacated bedroom and slept in Savannah's bed for a couple more hours. It is sad and tragic to be me.

On a happier note, though, provided that I don't die or anything, I'll be moving up to L**** just before New Year's to take the job. We sorted out our differences and now I'm feeling really good about it. I can't wait to show up and start taking names. They're even giving me two teenage girls to torture. I think all jobs should come with that.

I've found a place to live with two other aged spinsters, which will suit me just fine. Most places I called were full of students. One place asked me if I have a problem with snakes. My answer is that I don't have so much of a problem with snakes as I do with snake owners. (The exception to this, of course, is Panini, who didn't want a snake in the first place and kept it in her classroom and never put it in my bed which would have led to its death by machete.)

The people at Dell are sending me a box so I can send my computer to them so they can take a look at the mother ship or mother board or whatever. Again. Some more. Cross fingers, everybody, cuz I can't really afford to just go buy a Mac as some kind of "I'll show them" gesture.

I want to respond to everyone who commented on the feminism post, but it will take a little bit. Lots of you managed to articulate my own thoughts much better than I did, so thank you for that!

The walls are closing in

My computer has died. Again. With the same errors as before--the ones that hiss and spit at me. I spent 2 hours on the phone today with Mark, a Dell rep, and thanks to him my computer will no longer do anything.

So now I'm supposed to wait while he sends me some stuff in the mail. And I am computerless. I hope I can cope.

Feminist Goddess of Dooooom

As lots of you probably know, I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This makes me a Mormon. I do not have horns, though, because I had them filed down in a special Mormon ceremony.

I also consider myself to be a feminist. It didn't really occur to me to think of this as a controversial thing. I thought everyone with any sense was a feminist to some degree. Even though it takes in a lot of different movements and opinions (such as ecofeminism, lesbian feminism, anarcha-feminism, and fat feminism) here is what the basic concept of feminism is:

Belief in the social, political, and economic equality of the sexes (American Heritage Dictionary)

The thought and actions of people who want to make women's (legal, political, social, etc.) rights equal to those of men (Kellerman English Dictionary)

The doctrine advocating social, political, and all other rights of women equal to those of men (Dictionary.com)

Belief in the need to secure rights and opportunities for women equal to those of men, or a commitment to securing these (MSN Encarta)

Exactly where is the problem, here? Are there people who don't think this is a good idea?

And yet. I dated someone who broke out in hives at the mention of the word feminism and secretly considered breaking up with me early on because what if we got married and I just suddenly one day decided to start burning bras and sharpening knives before a shrine to Lorena Bobbitt? Because to him, that's what the word meant. Then we have my Dad. This is the man who encourages me to aim high, get all the education I can, and always hold out for more money. If he found out I were being discriminated against in the workplace on the basis of being female he would go nuts. And yet if you drop the f-bomb in his hearing his left eye starts to twitch. If you suggest that he might, in fact, be a feminist, he has a heart attack and dies.

I'm thinking this is because people (especially men) are too quick to associate the word feminist with the 2nd-wave feminism of the 60s and 70s, which was all tied up in the Sexual Revolution and pretty much the end of the world as they knew it.

But there were also the 1st-wave feminists of the 1800s and early 1900s, who had the crazy idea that, gosh, maybe women should be allowed to vote and hold property and get a job other than that of governess or chamber maid or prostitute. Not a crazy idea, if you ask me.

And now we have the 3rd-wave feminists, whose main platform is that women should be able to choose and pursue the life that they want without getting crap about it--whether as a CEO or as a soccer mom (or both, if you have some magical source which supplies you with endless energy and time). I don't think that as a woman I should expect to be able to have it all and simultaneously succeed at everything I want to do--I know life doesn't work that way. So I pick and choose where I'm going to put my efforts, based on my goals, skills, interests, and opportunities. I frequently make these choices a matter of prayer. Right now it's just me, but once I have a family I will have to take their needs into account as well, while continuing to pray about what is best for me and my family. How is that scary or radical? It just means that I get to make these choices and decide what's worth my time and efforts rather than having other people tell me what I'm allowed to do or what I should be doing.

There are some LDS people who use the word feminist when what they really mean is "rabid career-driven man-hater who doesn't wear makeup and possibly eats her own young." Or they might mean a woman who is still single at the age of 30, or who has a successful career, or who doesn't have 3 children in the first 5 years of marriage. It just sounds easier to chalk it all up to an abstract idea like feminism rather than to face the sometimes uncomfortable fact that not all women's lives are going to be identical, and that it's okay. But the thing is, those are people. That is not the Church, or its leaders.

I do think feminism can be taken too far. In an illustrative example of just how broad the opinions can get, you can take a look at Feminist Mormon Housewives. A lot of those women and men have great things to say and are normal and right-thinking. Others . . . seem a bit crazy to me.

Some people don't understand how one can be LDS and a feminist, because they think that our church is inherently sexist and descriminates against women. I don't feel that way at all. I think that there are definitely members of the church who are sexist and old and misunderstand basic principles. My friend Banana was teaching a an adult Sunday School class and corrected a gentleman on a point of doctrine. He puffed up and blustered, "You can't talk to me like that! I have the priesthood!" Thing is, that man will find no justification for that kind of attitude in any scripture or in any statement made by any authority of the Church. Because there just isn't one. The priesthood is not meant to be a "man" thing. It is specifically not about placing men higher than women. It is meant to bless everyone and to help us all move forward--and it does.

President Gordon B. Hinckley, the prophet, has probably done more to encourage women in their educational, professional, and leadership pursuits than any other Church leader. And for that I say he's a feminist. I don't know how he would react to the word, because we haven't chatted about that, but he and other Church leaders have demonstrated how much trust they have in the abilities, intelligence, and aptitude of the women in this church. They don't tell women to dumb down. They tell the men to smarten up.

So. Is the basic problem just with the f-word? Is it that people can only think of militant man-hater feminism when they think of it? I can't think of any other reason for all of these otherwise right-thinking people to get all frantic and twitchy.

Would love to have your thoughts.

Happy Birthday to Cicada!

It's Cicada's birthday today. I won't tell you how old she's turning, but I will tell you what my present to her is: I'm going get some of her eggs frozen. Shhh! Don't tell her! Now that I have a job, I can do things like that. I hope she likes it.

I would like to tell a great story about Cicada on this, the day of her birth, but there are just too many.

There was the road trip we took to California to hang out with Amyjane where we almost ran out of gas in the middle of the Mojave desert. That was not good.

Then there was the road trip we took to the Utah Shakespearean Festival. That was good, and we didn't run out of gas at all.

Also there was the time where she edited my dissertation, which I hold directly responsible for its kicking trash.

There was the time where she wore the really great outfit with the fabulous bag and kicky shoes. To be honest, though, that happens a lot.

Also there was the time when I had to send her home from work because her skirt was too short. Even though it wasn't. But the person who told me to send her home was kind of a rabid crazy pants and wouldn't listen when I tried to say that there was nothing wrong with her skirt. It's just no good trying to tell insane people that they are, in fact, insane. Because they never listen and then they decide that you're out to get them and they run you over with their car and then you're dead and can't stick up for your employees at all. So I think I told her to go home & change but not to clock out. At least I hope that's what I said. Cicada?

Anyway, happy birthday and best fertility wishes.

I have to go be a civilian now?

I spent a few hours this afternoon in the BYU Bookstore. I went to pick up my dad's Christmas gift and ended up browsing around. I love that place. I love its bargain book bins and its French editions of Harry Potter and its international chocolates. I especially love it right now when everything in the store is an additional 20% off because of Christmas. Also I love that all the actual students are stressed out over finals and I'm not. I get to glide through the panic, smiling benevolently, even at this one girl I saw today who was dressed in a long blue t-shirt, a black cow-girl-looking vest, a belt, a white knee-length peasant skirt, black leggings (curse you black leggings!!) and thick black Ugg-like boots. Despite her clothing I really felt like I want her to succeed both in her studies and as a person.

It has just hit me that for the first time in 9 years I will no longer be affiliated with a university. I was a student for 4 years, worked at a university for another 4 years, and then went back to school for 1. This makes me feel a bit sad. I like universities. I like how there's always something going on. I love all the great cheap cultural events that are actually of very high quality. I didn't take enough advantage of Lboro's events, but possibly that's because most of them involved copious amounts of alcohol and 17-yr-olds. I love that BYU will just cook free hot dogs for people in the quad on a sunny day (or sometimes in the snow) in the hopes that somehow free hot dogs will encourage people to stop dressing like trashy hos.

And now it feels like I'm being kicked out to the World of Learning and Creativity to join the World of Capitalists. Of course, technically I'm joining a public library, which is not exactly a "Down with Learning" kind of place. There will be books there. But still. It'll be an adjustment.

I scream, you scream

Yesterday I took Savannah for a girl's afternoon out. We went to the library, ran errands, and then got ice cream at the Creamery on 9th. She picked green ice cream. Lucky for me, she was not in her Kill Everyone with Her Mind Powers and then Cry and Moan Because they Didn't Die the Exact Right Way She Wanted mood. She was in a good mood, the kind where she walks around saying things like "Thank you so much" and "Your shoes are very beautiful."




I caught the girl in the background with the laptop smiling/chuckling a few times, like when Savannah gave out her trademarked banshee shriek, and when she started monitoring the soda fountain in order to inform me that pretty much everyone but her was allowed to get soda. "Look! She's getting soda too!" I told her that was because Savannah is smarter and makes good choices and will likely keep all her teeth. Also the girl chuckled when Savannah got ice cream on my blue Banana Republic cardigan, which I did not find quite as funny as she did.

All in all, it was a good time and I'm still the favorite. Which is what it's all about, really.

At a loss

Sometimes I wish I had kids, so then I could just post pictures of them when I don't know what to blog about. And people would just be awed by their beauty and that could be it. Of course, if I had kids then I wouldn't have the time or sanity to post regularly. Also there would be the religious and medical questions that would surely accompany a Virgin Birth. So yeah, that's probably not my answer.

At some point I'm sure I'll write a post about things I'm grateful for, but right now I'd rather talk about things I want.

I want this CD.

The music on it sounds absolutely beautiful, and I've loved "Song for a Winter's Night" for years. The cover makes me wonder when Sarah McLachlan decided to start dressing like Marilyn Monroe, and why she chose winter to start baring the skin, but whatever. Want it.

I want sushi. Lots of it. I want to eat sushi until I start growing gills. I especially want the fattening kind of sushi rolls that have been tempura-dipped and have cream cheese inside. Lucky for me, Cicada is going to come feast with me this weekend.


I want Ioan Gruffudd. As always. So handsome. Sigh . . .


I want feet that don't hurt. I don't know what the deal is, but I'm getting these awful things on my feet that are probably corns or something gross like that. It's getting to the point where none of my shoes are comfortable. Problem is, I won't have health insurance for at least another month. I bet I would be more motivated to exercise if my friggin' feet didn't hurt. So yeah. They're making me fat, too. Stupid feet.

(note: not my feet. I only have two, even if they are gross looking. And one of mine is a left foot.)

I want health insurance. And dental insurance. Because I now have funky toes which are causing obesity, a wart on my arm, and teeth that are about to fall out. Sounds hot, non? Like Ioan's going to pick me when I'm like this. It's times like these when I can get behind the socialized health care system.

Come away to Sabbath School

Good things about going to church with my niece & nephew rather than going to the Geriatric Singles Ward

1. Goldfish crackers
2. Cheese twists
3. Crayons
4. I look reverent and quiet by comparison
5. Listening to Savvy pretend to sing "Angels We Have Heard on High" with the rest of the congregations. Cutest. Thing. Ever.

Bad things about going to church with little kids (not that these things can't happen in a singles ward--they just happen less frequently)

1. Shrieking
2. Crying
3. Mad dashes for freedom
4. Spilling of water bottles all over carpet and clothes
5. Sudden stripping off of clothes (theirs, not mine, although that would be quite eventful too)

Yeah, no thanks

I've asked a for book called No One Cares What You Had for Lunch: 100 Ideas for your Blog for Christmas. I'm pretty sure it could change my life forever and take me to new blogging heights. But until I get the real one, here's idea #32:

“What are your relationship deal breakers? Some folks are annoyed if a date shows up ten minutes late. Others look for something weightier, like a felony record. Have you ever rejected someone over something that seems insignificant to your friends? Or do you have selective blindness for red flags?”

I've thought about this, and some things that I used to think were really important back when I was 19 and expecting to get married at, like, any second, aren't so important now. Or, to hear my Mom tell it, I've lowered my standards.

I don't think I've ever rejected anyone over insignificant things before. Having a Fu Manchu is very, very significant thing. Everyone knows this. And I still went out with him once. If anything, I hang on to relationships way, way longer than I should.

Here is the list I've finally come up with. It is by no means the absolute final list. And it kind of goes without saying that he needs to be a good Mormon boy, first of all. Might as well be honest here.

1. Anger management issues--I really hate yelling. If some guy were to yell at me or become abusive I think I would ask my dad to get out his purely decorative Franklin Mint hunting knives and kill him. Or at least carve him up real bad to teach him a lesson about Why We Control Our Tempers.

2. Reckless driving--you know how I feel about that. No way am I strapping my babies into that car.

3. Rudeness--whether to me or my family or pretty much anyone.

4. Thinking that it's okay to miss church to watch football. Trust me, it isn't. Also, football? If you're going to miss church, miss it for something good.

5. Not liking dogs--yes, I have decided, and it's a deal-breaker. We don't necessarily have to own a dog, but he still has to like them. Unless maybe he was mauled by a dog as a small boy and therefore has a phobia. That wouldn't be his fault.

6. Telling jokes that bash women, people of color, the elderly, starving Ethiopians, or homosexuals.

7. Not wanting kids

8. Pronouncing it lie-berry. I'm sorry, I just can't.

I'd love to hear yours, just in cased I've missed any important ones!

scarred for life

I have a little scar on my chin. I'm not sure how visible it is to other people. I usually don't notice it because I'm busy crying in despair over the huge zit that has cropped up somewhere near it.

I got this scar the day after Christmas 1990. I was riding my bike to the BX (Base Exchange) to buy the movie Ghost, since I didn't get it for Christmas. Note to Mom and Dad: good call on not buying me such a dumb movie. My gift that year was Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. Because that was my other favorite movie in 1990. I liked the footage of England, I thought Alan Rickman and Morgan Freeman were cool, and I had a mad hot crush on Christian Slater.

England = still beautiful
Alan Rickman = still cool
Morgan Freeman = still cool
Christian Slater = now resembles a rodent. And he has anger management problems. At least I can pick 3 out of 4. And I get points for knowing even then that Kevin Costner's accent was crap.

I stopped by the library on my way to the BX and as I pulled away I ran through some sand. Both the bike and I slammed into the ground, with me landing on the bottom. I then skidded on my face for a few feet and stopped just short of a parked car. I crawled out from under the bike and hobbled into the library to call my parents. Both librarians jumped about a foot in the air when they saw me, and when they sent me to the bathroom to clean up I saw why: The entire right side of my face was scraped up and covered with gravel. Lucky for me I only ended up with a little scar, but that mess looked gross for a long time.

We couldn't get through to my parents, so one of the librarians drove me home. Which is just one more story about why librarians are good people who deserve millions of dollars. Which they would then use to help the poor and mangled.

So. Best scar stories. Let's hear 'em! I should say now that if anyone's story involves a shark then they will probably win.

Staving off skin cancer

I've been thinking about skin lately--specifically about mine, and how I've pretty much resigned myself to being One Who Is Even Whiter Than English People. I realize this may disappoint my mother, who spends her brief escapes from Alaska trying to get all the UV rays that she possibly can without being hospitalized. And don't get me started on my dad. I can't believe he just went to the doctor and was told he had great skin. That doctor needs to shut his face.

I say that tan does not necessarily mean beautiful, especially if you look orange. Or wrinkly. So here is a list of ladies whom I find very attractive and who are also quite pale. I think Nicole Kidman is the overall winner--that girl must live in a crypt or something.

Nicole Kidman

Scarlett Johansson

Reese Witherspoon

Naomi Watts

Kate Winslet

Gwyneth Paltrow

Bryce Dallas Howard

Anne Hathaway

Cate Blanchett

I would like to point out that there are several Academy Award wins and nominations among this group. This, to me, says that pale people get taken more seriously than Oompa Loompas like that Jessica Simpson.

Also, I didn't include the pale people that I'm afraid of, like Bebe Neuwirth. She scares me.

Seriously, people

So I'm thinking it would be a LOT better if life could just be normal and uncomplicated. There are some things happening with the job and I'm not sure what the outcome will be. And there's another job opening now nearby that would pay me loads more and is at a library that I already love. So, yeah. No idea what I'm meant to do there. I did apply for the nearby job, though. Because who knows.

On a happier note, I had a good weekend. I went out with BDG (blind date guy) and had a great time. We accidentally ended up eating at a really, really nice restaurant on Main Street in Park City. It was so cold outside that we sort of ran into the first place we came to. Not a good idea in Park City, turns out. But when you're freezing to death you don't think straight. I almost died when I opened the menu and saw the prices. I'm sure BDG was a bit stunned as well but he was cool about it.

I have to say, though. That was some of the best food I've ever had. Ever. Here's an example menu, but be warned that those prices are lower than the real ones. So add a bit more volume to the "Gahh!!" and you'll have it.

Everything was beautiful. We sat in this booth that had curtains you can pull closed if you want. The server came out with steaming hand towels. They brought us fried wonton-wrapper chips to dip in a mustard curry sauce, and then after we ordered they brought us each a nibble of skate in a Thai basil-coconut sauce, compliments of the chef. I wanted to close the curtains so I could lick the sauce off the little dish, it was that good. But I was trying really hard to be couth. I ordered these huge scallops with tarragon and garlic and I don't even remember what, but they were set along the border of a circle of marinated shittake mushroom and a center of this creamy cauliflower puree. They were amazing. I really wanted to to take a picture to show you, but didn't have my camera with me. Also, the couth thing.

Seriously, it was so, so great. I think BDG really enjoyed it too (that or he's good at disguising an impending heart attack and/or sobbing). This helped keep me from feeling bad about bankrupting him with my dinner. Not that it was my fault. But you know. Next time we go out I think I'll suggest something a bit easier on the wallet--like free hot chocolate in bank lobbies. Or free hot dogs at RC Willey.

Shut. Your. Mouth.

This is the other piece of good news for the day.

So the blind date called last night and asked me out for this weekend. Yay for dates!

ALSO, as soon as I got off the phone, Ed came in with the mail and there was a card addressed to me from Blind Date Guy. It was a thank-you card, thanking me for last weekend and wishing me luck on my job interview.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Who even does that?

That was when I said the words of "SHUT. YOUR. MOUTH," which Savannah heard and then kept repeating, which resulted in a Time Out for her. And I felt really bad about that part because she was all standing in the corner crying and stuff.

And now Jenny is rethinking her past and saying stuff like, "You know, if I hadn't gotten engaged when I was twelve I bet someone would have eventually written me a card like that. And that would've been awesome."

That's right

I am officially about-to-be employed. There are still a few negotiations that need to happen, on account of I am now One Who Plays Hardball, but I've accepted the job.

What really cinched it for me was when I saw the Horatio Hornblower DVDs in the stacks. This, to me, says that they know what is really important.

We're still working out the details of when I can get up there and get started, and I'll probably need to register for food stamps given how low the salary is, but that's okay.

Yay for being among the employed!