My Christmas Decorations

My mom cracks me up. She sent me the following picture that had been forwarded to her, saying she was going to copy it this year. I'm sure you'll all see this as it's making the email forward rounds, but it was too good not to share.

I'm going to Disneyland!

For my birthday, my friend and I are heading down to Disneyland! Pictures when I come back!

The rural juror

I gotta say, I was actually really looking forward to my jury duty. I was very interested in the process and I was proud to be able to take part in what makes our country great.

I'm sad to say I failed miserably. For one, as soon as I heard the words "this is a criminal case" I pegged the guy as guilty. I hadn't even heard what the stupid case was about! How's that for "innocent until proven guilty"? Of that I am extremely ashamed. I'm even more ashamed that I didn't realized my negative assumption until I was already home and dismissed as a juror.

I got dismissed because I claimed "severe hardship" since I was a student. I didn't claim this before getting called into the court room because I didn't know how long the case would be. But when he explained what "severe hardship" constituted (it's a legal term, not just a descriptive one) he said if you're a student and will miss classes. Well, yep, that was me! Why didn't the paperwork explain this?!


So when it came time for anyone in my row to raise their hands, I did. I said I was a student but wasn't sure if I should be dismissed. (I wasn't going to admit, right there in front of the judge, prosecution, and defense...which included the defendant... that I really was curious and wanted to take part in deciding to fry the guy...) Then I gave a slight chuckle and said, "I have my class schedule right here..." The judge reminded me that I didn't need to show proof, I was under oath. So I got to get up and be the first to walk out of the court room.

Poor defendant! He's sitting there and here I am laughing about being a potential juror to decide his fate! To be honest, the chuckle was my way of whistling in the dark, but still. How disrespectful was that to the defendant?!

And at the beginning, I had dreams of going in there all Henry Fonda and turning the stagnant "Hang 'em high!" jury pool on their heads. I guess we all need a little humilifying every once in a while. I just wish mine hadn't occurred in a court of law.

Ugg, so now I've been postponed until this summer. Wonderful. Let's see what other kinds of trouble I can get into.

Why I didn't succeed as a physicist...

Years ago when I first started college, I was a physics major. It was fun, but I just couldn't see myself spending my entire life "imagining a spherical cow*". So I changed majors.

But remember this post? I still wish my work had a sound track sometimes. Measuring photosynthetic rates in avocado leaves isn't nearly as thrilling as it sounds. And "Eye of the Tiger" is one of my favorite songs.



*No joke, one of the problems in my physics book included imagining a spherical cow. Because, well, it was all theoretical anyway and it made the math easier.

It's my last name

Grandpa Hallows with his horse, Missy, sharing a kiss

I know of two distinct blessings I got from the Personal Progress program for the young women in my church. One of the goals challenged us to write in our journal everyday for a week. It was hard and I didn't have much to write, but I managed. Most likely because of that goal, I am now a prolific journaler and am very thankful for the memories I have preserved and for the therapeutic process that is journaling.

Papa Hallows (my dad) carrying on the tradition of handcranking ice cream with his grandsons

The second blessing was learning about my family. One of the smaller goals was to talk to your family about their last name, ask them what that names means to them, then record those thoughts in your journal. Here's my journal entry from November 7th, 1994

I ask my dad what our family name means to him and he said these are the words that come to mind: sincere, hardworking, logical, trustworthy, and fair minded. I can honor my family name by trying to be all of these!

I never realized how much of an effect this little exchange had on me until recently. I was talking to an elderly sister at church about her interesting last name and its origin. It's a very unique sound, one that I didn't think I'd heard in any of the languages I'd ever come across. She told me where in obscure Europe it was from but I still thought its pronunciation was very unique. She told me that it was actually supposed to be pronounced differently but when her husband was in college, he got tired of correcting people so he changed the pronunciation.

I didn't say anything to her but I was thinking what an effrontery to his family that was, or would seem to me. His name wasn't that complicated (it was only one syllable!). Then I remembered talking to my dad all those years ago and what my name means to me. I feel such a strong connection to my family because of my last name. I feel that in changing it, it means turning your back on all the wonderful, intangible things your family has handed down to you.

Grandpa and Grandma Hallows with Grandma and Grandpa Knight

I have my Grandmother Knight's collection of wooden safari animals, a Tums tin my Grandfather Knight carried with him all through WWII, a Hummel from my Grandmother Hallows, and my Grandfather Hallows' Shakespeare book. While I love these temporal objects, I love the eternal things they gave me more.

Grandma Hallows and me

I love that I have my Grandma Knight's toes, Grandpa Knight's fair skin, Grandma Hallows' light brown hair (she told me so herself...), and Grandpa Hallows left-handedness. Again, slightly temporal things.

I love that I got Grandma Knight's tenacity, Grandpa Knight's love of gardening, Grandma Hallows' strong work ethic, and Grandpa Hallows' passion for and skill with animals.

Great-grandpa Nathan James Hallows

I would like to add to my family name the virtues of loyalty and true-ness. I see these in my cousins, too, and am so proud to carry my family name. I feel that by them giving me a name they are allowing me to carry on the honor of the Hallows name. Bestowing that honor shows that they trust me with a very precious gift and that I'm worthy of being known to the world as a Hallows.

My second (and third) pumpkin of 2009

Here's my latest pumpkin(s) for this year. I'm pretty excited the way they turned out. Anyone recognize the design??? Post your guesses and I won't publish the answers for a day or so. I know to some of you it will be obvious. At least, I hope it will be obvious.



Oh, I have so many more designs I want to do this year! It's a good thing I've got four more days before Halloween!

This commercial makes me happy cry!

You know how I feel about animals. In a drama, kill the person before you kill the dog. And I used to cry myself to sleep worrying that my cat, Whiskers, would die. (He lived for another 8 years to the ripe old age of 17.) So you can understand why this commercial makes me cry with happiness.

My first pumpkin of 2009

I love to carve pumpkins, and Kate's theme this year inspired me. So here's my first carving of the season. Hopefully at least one more to come.




Previous years' carvings.

I finally get it!

I've said before that I just don't get poetry. I try, but it doesn't make sense to me.

One of the character's in Barbara Kingsolver's book, Poisonwood Bible, Adah, loves to read poetry, especially Emily Dickinson. Since I relate quite a bit to Adah, I thought I'd check out some Emily Dickinson.

And guess what?! I like her! I understand her! So I guess that makes two poets, Emily Dickinson an Robert Service, that I understand and like.

Here's a sampling of what I've enjoyed so far.

The Fingers of the Light
Tapped soft upon the Town
With "I am great and cannot wait
So therefore let me in."

"You're soon," the Town replied,
"My Faces are asleep —
But swear, and I will let you by,
You will not wake them up."

The easy Guest complied
But once within the Town
The transport of His Countenance
Awakened Maid and Man

The Neighbor in the Pool
Upon His Hip elate
Made loud obeisance and the Gnat
Held up His Cup for Light.

********************************

When I have seen the sun emerge
From his amazing house
And leave a day at every door,
A deed in every place,

Without the incident f fame
Or accident of noise,
The earth has seemed t me a drum
Pursued of little boys.



******************************

The Sun is one — and on the Tare
He doth as punctual call
As on the conscientious Flower
And estimates them all —

My cat is a genius

I always thought Vincent was pretty smart. So either this scenario proves that he's not that smart, or he's so smart that he's secretly training me (think mice in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy).

Each room in my house (including the bathroom) has two doors so the floor plan is something of a circle. The cats enjoy darting around the house in this circle. At night, I shut my bedroom door but leave the bathroom door open. The cats can still access the entire house by leaving my bedroom through the bathroom so there should be no problem.

Except that Vincent has taken to sitting outside my bedroom door in the middle of the night and crying until I let him "in". I finally started walking into the kitchen and leading him around to my bedroom to remind him that just because the door is shut doesn't mean he can't get back into the bedroom.

He's stopped crying to be let in so I'm assuming he's finally figured it out. Thankfully.

Pure awesomeness!

Outside my house tonight I heard a cop on his loudspeaker as he drove by. He said, "Use the ashtray in your car, not the street!"

Awesome.

One of my biggest pet peeves is people, driving or not, who throw away their cigarettes anywhere but an ashtray. Just because they're chained to cigarettes and see them as everyday, normal items does not make them biodegradable. Or for that matter, normal to everyone else.

Random Briggs quote

"Daddy, I know why you have to work and earn money. So you can donate it to the economy!"

Lately I've been reading the story of Helaman's 2,000 Stripling warriors, or his "sons" as he called them. It's been a great source of strength to me. I used to actually dislike the story because I felt that I had failed and was not as faithful as these young men because I suffer so much in my life.

Just to recap, the Nephites are drawn into a war with the wicked Lamanites. The Nephites are also protecting a group of people called the people of Ammon. The people of Ammon had once been wicked, and when they repented, they made an oath to God never to war again. So years later, when war breaks out, they want to fight to help their protectors, but don't want to break their oath. So they send their young men who were too young at the time the oath was made.

These 2,000 young men, stripling warriors ("stripling" means young) were exceedingly faithful, valiant, courageous, and true because of the way their mothers' raised them. After the first serious battle, their leader, Helaman, feared that his "sons" had suffered great losses because they had never fought before.

Alma 56:56 But behold, to my great joy, there had ^anot one soul of them fallen to the earth; yea, and they had fought as if with the ^bstrength of God; yea, never were men known to have fought with such miraculous strength; and with such mighty power did they fall upon the Lamanites, that they did frighten them; and for this cause did the Lamanites deliver themselves up as prisoners of war.

This is the part that always made me feel inferior. Not one of these boys fell. So all these times that I stumble in my life, sometimes very seriously, I feel like a failure.

However, a couple years ago I found a passage that was very powerful to me. (60 more sons were added to the army by this point)

Alma 57:25 And it came to pass that there were two hundred, out of my two thousand and sixty, who had fainted because of the loss of blood; nevertheless, according to the goodness of God, and to our great astonishment, and also the joy of our whole army, there was ^anot one soul of them who did perish; yea, and neither was there one soul among them who had not received many wounds.

So while they were incredibly faithful, valiant, and courageous, not a single one of them survived the battle without many wounds. So I am allowed to stumble. But as long as I pick back up and keep fighting, I am every bit as worthy as these humble young men.

Read below to see what they attributed their survival to, when so many from the surrounding armies perished.

Alma 57:26 And now, their ^apreservation was astonishing to our whole army, yea, that they should be spared while there was a thousand of our brethren who were slain. And we do justly ascribe it to the miraculous ^bpower of God, because of their exceeding ^cfaith in that which they had been taught to believe—that there was a just God, and whosoever did not doubt, that they should be preserved by his marvelous power.

27 Now this was the ^afaith of these of whom I have spoken; they are young, and their minds are ^bfirm, and they do put their trust in God continually.

I hope it can be said of me that I put my trust in God as continually. I know I am far from perfect, and I'm slowly getting better at accepting that. And in accepting that, I am able to allow the Savior to make changes in me and make me greater than I ever could be alone.

I wish my life were a montage

Do you sometimes wish life was a montage? I do. Well, parts at least. I watch movies and see these romantic montages where emo music plays and the character gets through difficult things, like studying, working, cleaning a house, etc. And by romantic, I mean "marked by the imaginative or emotional appeal of what is heroic, adventurous, remote, mysterious, or idealized".

Because, in a montage, while you may be arduously studying or cleaning up a house or disaster, the arduousness only lasts a few minutes. All the while sound-tracked by a really good song.

Yes, some moments of life I wish were a montage. Like right now. I'm sitting in the library again for another late night of studying. But that's ok, I'm actually kind of enjoying myself wrapped in my little, isolated carrel listening to Brandi Carlisle.

Don't ever change your address...

Ever. Just don't do it.

Each time I move here in SLO county and change my address, I get called up for Jury duty. You might think my moves just happen to coincide with when my name gets picked, but I have not moved in any routine pattern. When I moved to Pismo I got called. Almost 12 months later, when I moved to AG, I got called. Then, for three years, I never got called.

And now, less than a month after moving and changing my address and voter registration, I get called for Jury duty. Blech.

Oh well, I'm young and I've been told they never want young people as jurors. But sometimes I'd like to be called onto a jury because it seems that the average American is frighteningly uneducated. And that just annoys me.

Yeah, I know I'm a self-righteous, know-it-all snob, but hey, the majority of people my age couldn't even tell you what century the Civil war was fought in. Oy.

I hate funerals

I think I need to see a therapist about this rather than blogging about it, but at the moment, I'm waiting for my stupid cat to come back home so I'm trying to kill time.

I hate funerals. For me, at least, I don't know if I'm ready to grieve at them, so I'm not sure they serve a useful purpose (again, for me at least).

I hate Amazing Grace, especially when played on the bag pipes. I have nothing against well-played bagpipes, just Amazing Grace played on said instrument. (Thanks to the deaths of three high school students my Freshman year of high school.)

I hate a 21 gun salute.

And I especially hate the saccharin oval photos of a peaceful, gently smiling person on the front of the memorial programs. I saw one on a TV show and almost burst out crying (even though I knew the character wasn't even dead).

When I die, if any of my blog readers is still alive, make sure none of these things are present at my funeral. My best friend's dad wants his family to go to Disney Land instead. I think that's an awesome idea.

Please gather and tell stories of the stupid and funny things I did. Not the nice, sweet stuff. At funerals, people seem to focus so much on the perfect things that the deceased did that I start to forget that we're talking about a real person that I knew and loved. I want to hear the silly and funny stuff that truly defined that person.

I used to think I wanted "Abide with me, 'Tis even tide" sung at my funeral, but that's just too solemn. My life isn't about solemnity. It's about laughing and having fun, believe it or not. I'm not a party animal, but I do love to have fun and laugh and look for humor in every situation.

At my grandpa's funeral, my cousin read a comic strip. I like that idea. And maybe play something from Simon and Garfunkel like "Cecelia" or "59th Street Bridge Song". And something from Queen, like "We Are the Champions" or even, if you're feeling feisty, "Another One Bites the Dust". I promise you I won't feel dishonored.

And I don't want any somber pictures. I want photos of me that show how much fun I had (am having) in life. I've posted a few I would find acceptable.

Here's a scene from "Love Actually" that is sort of what I would like.


And remember, I want to be buried in Corning or Chico where my ancestors are all buried.

And God willing, maybe I won't have to die until death has passed from this world and funerals become a moot point. That would be awesome!

PS: The cat just came waltzing in my front door. Stinker. Must sign off now so I can get on my knees in prayers of thanks that my horrifying visions of roadkill have not come true.

Oh, Etymology, you make me so happy!

The scientific name for Tumble weed is Salsola tragus.

In Latin, roughly translated, this means Salty goat.

That just gives me the chuckles.

My ideal study space

Suzzallo Reading Room that I used to study in at UW

Right now I'm sitting on the fourth floor of the library and finally all the non-serious studiers have gone home. (You know, those who feel the need to chat or listen to music that the entire room can hear...)

One of my favorite places at the University of Washington was the Suzzallo Library's Graduate Reading Room. You just felt smarter studying there. And it was SOOO quiet. There were always lots of people in there, but you could hear a pin drop it was so quiet. And the air was just thick with learning. Mmmm, gives me the good shivers.

I was thinking about my ideal study space. I love being in the main part of the library because the large room and all the books muffle noises such as pages being turned and the occasional whisper. The "Quiet" study room was a bust because when the idiots weren't talking, you could hear ever pencil scratch and paper shuffle. (Can you tell I take my quiet time seriously?!)



I would love to have my own library carrel at home for a desk. I think I'm one of the few people who actually enjoyed having a cubicle at work. I loved having the high walls visually block out distractions so I could focus. I love going to the library and hunkering down in a carrel and blocking out the world. I think visual distractions are more of a detriment to me than audible ones.



I also like the close space. This photo I found online, of a carrel built into a cove in the wall of a library, would be my ideal study space. For some reason, the closer the space, the more focused I can be. I guess it's because there is less to distract me. And I feel safe for some reason. Must be the Aspie in me. I feel I can let my guard down and focus all my energy on learning rather than putting of my defenses because people can see and judge me. (Hmmm, must tell therapist about that...)

Do you know how much productivity I could get done in here?!

Sadly, I can't find any library carrels for sale online. But if you happen to find some on sale (with high walls that wrap around you) and you're looking to buy me a present, I would happily accept. Actually, on second thought, a whole cubicle would be awesome! I love the tiny space.

Ok, back to studying genetics.

Yay! It's cloudy!

I love cloudy days. Well, as long as they only happen every once in a while. It's cloudy and cool today and it makes me just want to cuddle up in the library and study. And keep on studying.

Gray skies are good for my GPA. Again, as long as they don't happen too often.

Quick, get the glue gun, Martha!

(I don't know where the Martha part came from, it was just funny...to me anyway.)



While serving Ty dinner one night, he was quite incensed that his plastic fruit cup would not stay upright when a spoon was put in it. He would set cut and spoon on the counter, and it would tip over.

He was quite upset about the mess. I tell you, this boy chooses the oddest times to find messes disagreeable. I wiped it up, assuring him he wasn't in trouble because it was an accident, and fruit cups were notorious for not standing up to the weight of a spoon resting on the rim.

Then out of the blue, he hopped down from his stool and started marching off. Utterly bewildered, I said, "Ty! Come sit back down and finish dinner!"

After a minute of verbal wrangling with him, he finally shouted, "I'm going to get a glue-stick to glue my fruit cup to the counter so it won't keep spilling!"

That plan was nixed, much to his dismay.

"Do I look like your mother???"

Thursday night the kids asked me for something ridiculous. They shocked me by saying, "Mom let's us do it!" (Surprisingly, they've never pulled this or the "you-can't-make-me-you're-not-my-mother" routine with me...)

I retorted back (probably because I was surprise...) "Do I look like your mother?!"

After a second of heavy silence I acquiesced, "Ok, yes, I DO look like your mother, but I'm not her." This was met with giggles and the subject changed.

(Just tonight, someone at Farmer's confused me for Kate. It's nice to be confused with someone so gorgeous...)

And because I keep forgetting to share this story, now seems like just as good a time.

In August I was babysitting Briggs and Ty when Ty asked for a popsicle. I told Ty no, he'd already had one.

"But Bwiggs said I could have one!"
"Briggs isn't in charge. I am."
"Well I like to be in charge," Ty said firmly as he marched off.

Truer words were never said.

Historic gas receipt

Have I mentioned that I love living in town? More specifically, I love living on the college side of town because I'm so freaking close to everything. And I haven't been bothered by parties keeping me awake or loud noises, thankfully enough.

The other thing I love about where I live is that I put maybe 4 miles a day on my car. So, on September 29th, I filled up my car with gas. (I have about an 11 gallon tank.) And I am so looking forward to seeing exactly how long it takes me before I have to finally fill my tank up.

The funny thing is that Kate lives 4.7 miles from my house, and now I feel like that's sooo far away! I think, hmmm, I really want to visit, but do I want to drive that far? I guess Kate was right, as soon as I moved into town, she knew she would see less of me. But I'm still totally stoked for Farmers each week.

This being a gas-miser promises to be as much fun as watching Mom single-handedly defeat PG&E (her electric company).

Morning has NOT broken

There seems to be a bird outside my house with my same propensity to utterly disregard day/night and light/dark paradigms.

At all times of the night, I hear a bird call that sounds for all the world like the ones you hear at dawn. And then I look frantically at the clock, thinking, Surely it can't be 7am already?! Because, you know, that has happened to me. I look at the clock at 11pm and suddenly realize that it's 7am and I still haven't gone to sleep.

This bird doesn't chirp constantly (it's not really a chirp, more of a warble), just once or twice a night at very random times. And then I feel compelled to sing Cat Stevens. Because I'm up anyway...

A Sheldon moment

I think I might have troubles trusting my education to this professor after hearing this slip up. And I might have spoken up in class were this my own instructor.

I was trolling the internet for help in solving a genetics problem (stupid dyhybrid crosses). I found this example, and believe me, you all should be able to tell me the answer to this problem. (Come on, Ej, I'm really depending on you here to answer this one...)

• A farmer just bought a black cow.

• Black (B) is a dominant color. White (b) is recessive.

• The black cow mates with a white steer on several occasions.

• 2 of the offspring are white & one is black.

• Create a chart or Punnett Square that shows what the black cow’s genotype must be.

Um, the answer should be NO OFFSPRING! One of the cows was a steer! I tell ya, sometimes academics are idiots! But it gave me a good laugh.

Unfortunately, I still need help with the assignment.

Definition of a cow

Years ago, my good friend, Reed Bird, gave EJ and I this definition of a cow which has stuck with me. And seeing as I'm going to be writing a cow-centric post in the next few minutes, I wanted to share this with you.

Definition of a Cow

A big city school boy describes a cow something like this:

A cow is a completely automatic milk manufacturing machine encased in untanned leather and mounted on four vertical, movable supports, one on each corner.

The front end contains the cutting and grinding mechanism, as well as the headlights, air inlet and exhaust, a bumper and foghorn.

At the rear is the dispensing apparatus and an automatic fly swatter.

The central portion houses a hydrochemical conversion plant. This consists of four fermentation and storage tanks connected in series by an intricate network of flexible plumbing. This section also contains the heating plant complete with automatic temperature controls, pumping station and main ventilating system. The waste disposal apparatus is located at the rear of this central section.

In brief, the externally visible features are: two lookers, two hookers, four stand-uppers, four hanger-downers and a swishy-wishy.

There is a similar machine known as a bull, which should not be confused with a cow. It produces no milk, but has other interesting uses.

These were taken from September Issue of The 1966 American Red Angus by George Dobesh.

Suffering?

I have depression and anxiety. I also have dry skin, brown eyes, 2 cats, and, according to a lot of people, nice hair and skin.

I just read an article where the author described a person that "suffered from" Asperger's. The term "suffer" really bothers me, for some reason.

No, depression and anxiety is not fun. And yes, I guess you could say that it causes me to suffer sometimes. But it's who I am. Everyone suffers from something or other.

And I feel that by saying that I "suffer from" depression somehow seems to lessen my own power while strengthening the depression. I'd rather say I "fight with" depression rather than passively suffer from it.

In 2 Corinthians, Paul talks about begging the Lord to remove his weakness, which he likens to a thorn in his side. But the Lord tells him no, he will not remove his infirmity.

9 And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.
10 Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.

I found this recently and it's really stuck with me. If my depression is the reason that I can have a close relationship with my Heavenly Father, then so be it. I'll continue to fight my depression. But I won't hate it and weakly give up. I will depend on the Lord to strengthen me in my fight, a fight that will likely last my entire life.

A botanist's rant

I realized that I am calling out a fantasy comic book for being inaccurate. But there are just some things that bother me. A lot.

Take for example Rapunzel’s Revenge by Shannon and Dean Hale, illustrated by Nathan Hale (no relation). The evil witch has the magical power of making things grow. So when Rapunzel is going to be stuck in the tower, the henchman steps onto a vine, applies a growth magic, and rides a section of the vine up as it grows all the way to the top of the tower. Then he chops it down so Rapunzel can’t get back down.

Now, that’s actually a neat explanation for how she got up there. However, anatomically (or physiologically) it’s wrong. Oh so wrong.

Let’s look at a tree. If you plant a 3 foot tall tree that has one branch sticking out the side at the height of 2 feet, no matter how tall that tree grows, that one branch will always be at the height of 2 feet. Trees have their main growing point at the top, the apex. Yes, they do have other centers of growth, which is why you get sprouts growing from the bottom of the trunk of the tree, but the main center of growth, or meristem, is at the top, a phenomenon known as “apical dominance”. This “apical dominance” is true of all dicots, a class of plants that most trees fit into (almost all, in fact).

So if you whack off the top of a tree, it will not grow any higher unless it grows a branch out of the side and that particular branch angles upward and grows from its tip. Thank you apical dominance.

Now, there are some plants, such as grasses and palm trees that are monocots. These have their centers of growth at their base. Hence the reason that palms are always getting taller and the small clump of fronds at the top is also always getting higher in the air. Having a basal meristem (ie: the center of growth at the base, or bottom, of the plant) is also the reason grass can have its top cut off and still continue to grow after being mowed. (Kind of like hair - it grows from the head end. So if you cut off the tip of the hair, it still continues to grow.)

The tree may be getting taller, but that hollow room thingy would always stay the same height above the ground, no matter how tall the tree gets.

You might think I am confused, and the vine in the book must be a monocot. However, there are key anatomical structures that help someone with a basic understand of botany identify monocots from dicots. And the vine in Rapunzel’s revenge? It’s clearly a dicot.

So Mr. Henchmen and poor Miss Rapunzel could not ride a section of the vine all the way to the top. That section of the vine will always be at a stationary height. Now, had they somehow mounted themselves on the very top tip of the vine, it would indeed push them higher and higher as it added more plant material to the apex of the plant. But this is not how they are depicted. They are clearly shown standing on a section of vine that, for all botanical intents and purposes should remain stationary.

And now that I’ve ruined your fantasy, please, continue what you were doing (if you haven’t already after dozing off during this botany lesson). Thank you for allowing a mad scientist to vent.

Who am I?

What I do for work: fight with this beast of a machine in an avocado orchard...and LOVE it!

Remember my existential ice cream crisis? Well, I realized I've been having a slightly more serious problem for the last several years. (Yes, I'm so not in tuned with my feelings that it takes me several years to realize I'm not happy.)

I realized that I'm trying to be everything that I'm not. And it doesn't make me happy. It's good to try to improve yourself, yes. But it's not good to chase after things that aren't really important and don't make you happy.

I realized that I love learning. I am smart and good at learning and being a scientist. And at being an aunt. And working with animals. And I love being these things. I should focus my attentions on these.


Here are some other things that I've been trying to be, but in reality, don't actually like being. (That was the kicker, realizing that it's not that I can't be these things, I just really don't want to be these things. They don't make me happy.)

I can't dress stylishly, and I don't' really even like to dress stylishly. Give me jeans and a T-shirt, hair in a pony tail with unruly wisps freaking out all over my head. And this facilitates my passion of trudging around in an orchard collecting data. I don't want to have to worry about my clothes, or feel uncomfortable that my hair is in my way.

My house doesn't look like a Martha Stewart magazine. And I finally realized - I don't care. I don't enjoy trying to make it look well-decorated, so why worry so much that it isn't???

I am not crafty. And I don't really like being crafty. I read all these blogs where amazing women are always making something wonderful. (I really love how my sisters are crafty but make useful things...THAT is a talent in my mind) But guess what. I don't enjoy myself doing that. I enjoy cross-stitching and making ping pongs. And I enjoy solving random equations in my spare time.

I am not a social butterfly. I enjoy going to social activities, but I don't like hosting them. I don't like having to come up with cute party themes and games, or designing the perfect invitation.

I do enjoy seeing beautifully landscaped gardens. But I don't enjoy creating said gardens. I've felt a lot of guilt over being a plant person and not having a beautiful yard. But now I'm just going to enjoy myself with my garden experiments and be happy with that.

Binding DNA to a column at Stanford's biology lab.

During one episode of "Gilmore Girls", Lorelei has an existential crisis over Pop-tarts. "Do I really like Pop-tarts because I like them? Or because my mother doesn't like them???"

So it's a slow process, but I've been asking myself lately, "Do I want to dress fancy, in uncomfortable clothes because I enjoy it? Or because I feel like I should because everyone around me is???" And more often than not, I realize, I don't want to. It's simply because "everyone else is doing it" that I feel I should.

Oh, that Should. It is a DIRTY word that I would love to hurl over a cliff and never hear from again. And all my therapists agree. Don't Should on yourself.

And since I've let go of all (ok, most) of my should-anxieties ("I should wear panty hose! I should put on make up!! I should decorate my house to celebrate the season!!!) I've been a much happier person. And a better student and scientist. I can focus what energies I have on what I am good at and what I enjoy doing. And guess what...my friends still like me!

And those crafty, cute, homemakers probably aren't as good at being scientists as I am. So we can all just stick to our talents and joys and make the world amazing by being so varied in our abilities!

And is making it to the Celestial kingdom dependent upon panty hose, crafty parties, and cute houses? Nope. So go ahead, put down all your own "Should" guilt. And do what makes you (and the Lord) happy.

Hyper plants

Tonight Ashlynn, Maggie, and I were enjoying strawberries from Farmer's Market and Ashlynn commented that the strawberries weren't as good as they usually were.

I mentioned that late July is when we get the best strawberries. She asked why this was. I explained how plant leaves take the sun light and use it to make sugars. And in July, we have the longest days so the plant can make more sugar, plus just the right temperatures.

And of course only Ashlynn would make the following leap: "So, if I laid out in the sun for a long time, I'd get really hyper, huh?"

Um, no, sorry child. You're not an autotroph. I told her no, and Maggie astutely pointed out, "No, because you're not a leaf."

Needless to say I had a blast with these two funny girls tonight.

The tender mercies for an anosmic

I have been blessed. And this blessing is one that makes me eternally grateful. And I know that God is good.

"But behold, I, Nephi, will show unto you that the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom he hath chosen, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance" ~1 Nephi 1:20

The Lord has seen fit to give me no sense of smell. And I think I've dealt with it fairly well, having never known otherwise.

However, in the Lord's tender mercies, he has seen fit to not give me a scent, either.

Now, you may not believe me. "How would you know?! You can't smell yourself!" But I have it on good authority (and multiple sources) that even when I am dripping with sweat from a long hard day in the barn or a good long run, I don't smell.

I don't rely on this, but it's nice to know that every once in a while, when I just can't clean up before being in public, chances are I'm not going to offend most people.

Yes, God is good. And I'm not being sarcastic, I really am thankful that God withheld both a sense and a scent from me.

My very own "timshell"

For Ashlynn’s baptism, I gave a quick talk on the Holy Ghost. I searched the scriptures on the Holy Ghost and came across a great scripture, Moroni 8:26 “…and because of meakness and lowliness of heart cometh the visitation of the Holy Ghost, which Comforter filleth with hope and perfect love, which love endureth by diligence unto prayer, until the end shall come, when all the saints shall swell with God.”

I decided to explain some of the words and looked for a simple definition in the dictionary. (I’m no good at defining words in simple form even though I know what they mean and I know how to use them.) Diligent means “constant, careful, to esteem highly”.

I knew that diligent meant constant, but I never knew that it meant to esteem highly. So all the little things we need to do diligently, such as prayer, scripture study, partaking of the sacrament, etc, need to be done routinely but more importantly, they need to be esteemed highly. Those little things are incredibly important and should be treated as such.

I discovered this about two weeks ago, and ever since I have found the word “diligent” almost everywhere. And it brings such a deep new meaning to everything I read in the scriptures.

My post title simply refers the the all-important phrase that the amazing book East of Eden hinges on. If I haven't said so already, you should read it.

Finally back...sorry...

I haven't decided if it's a good thing or a bad thing for you that I'm back. I'll let you decide.

Whatever the results are, the facts are these: a friend fixed my computer so I could access the internet from my computer just about anywhere. But I still had "limited or no connectivity" from my home. Then today I thought to call my landlord and ask her for help. Turns out it was a simple password error. As in one digit off.

Moral of the story? I am my own virus. (I'm the reason why I wasn't able to access the internet anywhere.) Also, never tell me anything important. Either send it to me in a letter or text it to me. For me, it's literally in one ear and out the other. Consider yourself warned. And consider me a much happier person knowing of my weakness and relaxing that I'm not perfect.

Out for a while...

I don't have internet at my house right now, so you won't be hearing from me for a while. But all is going great and I'm enjoying my new apartment (so are the kitty boys!).

See you all soon!

Starting off right in my new place

Today I got the key for my new apartment and moved in a few boxes. My visiting teachers also met with me at my new place. The carpets were still wet from the cleaning, but I really wanted to have our lesson at my new home to start off with the right spirit. So we sat around on the kitchen floor and had an awesome lesson.

Ashlynn requested that I give a quick talk/story about the Holy Ghost at her baptism on Saturday. In the Visiting teaching lesson for September, a quote from Elder Robert D. Hales really spoke to me. I don't think I'll use it in the story, but I wanted to post it here.

Elder Robert D. Hales of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “We must live the gospel in such a way that we will have the Spirit to ever be with us. If we live worthily, the Spirit will always be with us. We can then teach by the Spirit. … The reason we pray, study the scriptures, have good friends, and live the gospel through obedience to the commandments is so that when—not if, but when—the trials come, we are ready” (“Teaching by Faith,” Liahona, Sept. 2003, 10, 14–15; Ensign, Sept. 2003, 20, 24–25).

Dear Papa

Dear Papa,

Thank you for taking the time when I was little to teach me deep relaxation techniques. And for the many nights you stayed up with me massaging my feet because I had excruciating growing pains.

I was able to pass the favor along to the next generation. Ashlynn was so nervous for her first day of 3rd grade that she couldn't sleep. So I rubbed her back and told her the beach story you used to tell me. The one where I would lay on a beach in the warm sand. The waves would come in just enough to cover my toes and then withdraw. Then they'd come in a little farther to my ankles, and when they withdrew again, they took away the stress and tightness. Then they'd eventually come in all the way to the top of my head and when they recede, all my stress is gone. And I'm usually asleep. It worked and your 8 year old granddaughter was out like a light.


It works on your 10 year old granddaughter, too. And every single one of my preschoolers that I taught at KinderCare. They requested it by name. "Ms. Amanda, I can't sleep! Tell me the beach story!" No fail, they'd be out in five minutes.

So thanks again for staying up with me all those nights even though I'm sure you wanted to go to sleep yourself.

Love always,

Mae

Out of my mind, be back in 2 weeks

I noticed tonight when I tried to conduct FHE that my mind has taken a vacation. We're talking severe mental absenteeism. Moving takes it's toll mentally and I've got a ton of other things going on, or at least on my mind, right now. Oddly, I'm not stressed.

So I apologize to all if I am spacey and out of it. But consider yourself warned. Don't mention anything important to me if you'd like me to remember it! And I really would like to remember things you tell me. Unfortunately, I'm just going to have to accept that these next couple weeks won't be my best.

See you all in two weeks! (Two weeks is really more of an arbitrary time line...who knows when I'll find my brain again...)

And for my family who will be here this weekend, my body will be making an appearance because I (and my body) love you all so much and can't wait to see you! Tell me afterwards how it went, please!

I am Insular!

Not Spartacus, just Insular.



At institute last week, I used the word "insular" in a comment I made during class. The teacher stopped me and asked me to define it for the rest of the class, which I did. (insular: characteristic of an isolated people; dwelling or situated on an island)

And that of course got me to wondering about its etymology. So of course I went over to my trusty www.m-w.com.

• Etymology: Late Latin insularis, from Latin insula island
• Date: 1611

Which brings to mind one of my favorite Simon and Garfunkel songs ever, "I am a rock". Man I love that song! And I love being a rock, or more accurately a kayak, as Emily Gilmore calls it - a canoe requires two people but you can paddle a kayak by yourself. And I love the sights I've seen, me in my little kayak. Life is good.

De-crapifying!

(Not my picture! My house doesn't look quite this bad.)

This post will make my mom proud. She inspires me with her cleanness and organization skills.

I'm finally moving into SLO to be closer to school so I've been going through my house cleaning out and packing. I like to term this process "de-crapifying". It's a very emotionally cleansing process. You should try it. I put on a movie I've seen a million times to listen to in the background and then go to town sorting. (My cats enjoy it too - so much to explore!)

I have a box of stuff that I'm giving to my sisters (things I've already asked them if they want, like art supplies for the kids, VHS movies that I finally have on DVD, books, etc), I have a box of stuff listed on Freecycle, a box of books to sell back to used books stores, and a bag of trash.

What I love most about Freecycle is that people actually come pick the stuff up from my porch. I don't actually have to take it anywhere. And it's going directly back into use. It won't have to cost money to go through a screening process at most donation sites. Plus I'm WAY too unorganized and lazy to take things to donation drop centers. (I know, unfortunate...but I'm a work in progress.)

And I've learned in the process that I am an emotional shopper. Or therapeutic shopper, whatever it's called. I shop to make myself feel better, to feel like I'm accomplishing something. I don't buy clothes and things that most women buy, and I don't buy "big ticket items" so I never realized I had this weakness. But how many pens, paper, notebooks, and garden supplies does a girl need? Not this much! Luckily, I've gotten much better in the past year or so, but I still have to get rid of all the superfluous stuff I've collected over the years. Hopefully this will remind me next time I get the urge to buy that pack of pencils that it is just wasted money.

The most important animal

I found this in my journal from November 11, 2006 and wanted to share it. It really shows Ashlynn's personality.



Walking home from Farmer's on Thursday, Ashlynn asked me what was the most important animal. I explained that all animals were important. So she said, "Oh, maybe the biggest is the most important."

I pointed out that if we didn't have the tiny bee we wouldn't have flowers or fruit. So she asked if bees were the most important. I again reminded her they were all important and equal - without cows we wouldn't have milk, without chickens we wouldn't have eggs.

Finally understanding, she said very seriously, "Oh! And without giraffes we wouldn't have longest neck contests!"

It's all about competition and creativity with that child!

Guess who's allergic to flax seed!

Me! Flaxseed and flaxseed oil cause my throat to constrict.


Years ago I had tried some over-the-counter supplements of Flaxseed oil and Evening Primrose oil for eczema. After a week I noticed that my throat always felt tight so I stopped taking the supplements and my throat went back to normal.

Because I was taking two different things at once, I was never sure which was the cause. I've always been kind of curious but didn't feel like buying more supplements to figure it out.

Last night my friend made cookies with flaxseed in them and I ate one intentionally to see if it was flaxseed I was allergic to. Yep! My throat mildly closed up a little while after eating them. So now I know! I was actually quite pleased to finally solve this mystery (with only mild discomfort).

Curiously enough, linseed oil is another name for flaxseed oil. We used this years ago to finish a pony cart at the ranch. I wonder if getting this on my skin would cause my eczema to be worse.