Freedom of Information

It's been too long.

The problem with writing a blog about your life is that sometimes you have to censor it a bit. This is particularly sad when you could really tell the world's funniest story, but you don't want to burn people. Oh, the woes of being a moral person.

From time to time, I think of taking a page out of the Mormon Bachelor Pad's book (love those guys, exposed and identified just as much as when they were nice, anonymous and irreverent), and just telling all the REALLY juicy stuff as if it didn't happen to me. But then I figure, why let anyone else get the credit?! If I have to live through the embarrassment, endure the nerve and the cluelessness of others, or just put up with one brand of brouhaha or another, don't I have the right to write about it? Good question. And I guess the answer really depends on whether you read me because you a) know me, b) want to know me, or c) are totally bored and willing to read just about anything.

So let's see how this goes. Yes, it's heavily edited. But that doesn't mean I can't throw you a juicy bone every once in a while.

Life has been taking its normal twists and turns. If you'd asked me a week ago, I would have thought to have been in Texas, suffering from major buyer's remorse post-Round Top (= THE antique market to go to), but I felt a wave of fiscal responsibility and couldn't bring myself to go.

My week started off in the crapper relationship-wise, and I guess I'm still smarting a bit, but I'm buoyed up by the fact it's fall, and I feel at my best in autumn. I love the colors, I love the chill in the air. I love that people don't look at me like a freak in my layered clothes, and that I'll soon be wearing legwarmers with my flip-flops (I hate shoes, I'm just gonna say it). I love going to the cabin and tromping through leaves on my way to the falls, and I love decorating for Halloween. I don't need a single thing, but Target, that master temptress, foils me every time. I bought Halloween marshmallows today. I don't know that they'll even get eaten, but they're in my car, waiting.

Tomorrow the one true love of my life (not really) will get married. To someone else. I'm very happy for him. I don't feel anything but hope and excitement for my dear friend. I only wish I could be there to "give him away." My heart gave him away a long time ago, but I'm so happy to have had so many years with him on a pedestal, helping me to aim higher.

In the mean time, I got a nice lecture from a boy I really don't ever want to go out with again. The other day, there was a lot of awkward confusion (otherwise known as gossip-fueled speculation) about my real love-life, and in an effort to be diplomatic, I told Suitor #3 that I was taking a break from dating.

Oh wait. This is supposed to be about someone else.

So scratch that. My friend, Raquel, had a weird guy send her the following message when she tried to let him know she wasn't interested:

"[Raquel], I don't know about you but I hate being alone and look forward to having a wife and family. The last thing people our age need is to take a break from dating. If u don't want to date a particular person, that's fine, but don't punish yourself by not dating at all, even just for a little while. Do not neglect your responsibilities to your fellow man and your God."

In case you were wondering, Raquel thinks this guy is a major tool. She's also heard him use the N-word, so that killed it long before his dating lecture. Poor Raquel. But I hear she's interested in another guy, who is likely also not going to turn out to be her FH/EC (Future Husband/Eternal Companion) but it's giving her something to be happy about. Tune in for the future adventures of Raquel, as well as my own humble observations.

Meet Me At The Fair

It's dollars to doughnuts that our state fair is the best state fair in our state. Now, if we had to compete with any OTHER state, I'm guessing the only prize NM would win would be trashiest state fair.
Yes, my friends, it's fair time again, and oh what a time it is. Pam was going on a date with the entire branch (because everyone kept inviting themselves along on our double), and where else would one go in September? Here are some highs (and lows) from the weekend:
Best display: My friend Sister Frances' Mother Theresa Doll:

I love that Sister Fran! She also got a first-place ribbon for a doll that looks like Trish's granddaughter Chloe, but I'm gonna refrain from posting the pick and ruining the surprise.
And that about does it for the highs.
Now, let's talk about the lows, otherwise known as the only reason I love the fair-- the people watching! I regret to report I missed out on some great photo opportunities because I wasn't vigilant enough with the camera. At the rodeo, I saw a great lady with gold boots that really should have been shot (with a camera, of course), and the best (read: worst) outfit was missed because I was holding two cups of lemonade and couldn't get my camera out. Picture sheer white bloomers, black underwear and tank top, glittered flats with leather straps laced up the wearer's legs (very tightly, looking like they were about to cut off her circulation) and a hood with long straps that I'm guessing could be used as a scarf. They weren't attached to a jacket.... it was just a multi-colored hood. It was priceless.
Still, this is what you get:

Pam said my face lit up when I saw this little girl with the tubular headband.

Some nice ink.

And of course, the stuffed animal larger than the winner.

But because I failed with bad pictures of other people, here are some horrible ones of me:

Jeff had fallen asleep during the concert (seriously), so we went out for a snow-cone and a walk and ended up with these pictures. Doesn't he look a bit like Sloth from "The Goonies?"

My branch president asked me how my date went, and I told him Jeff fell asleep, so it's not looking eternal. When I mentioned this to Jeff, he suggested that I should have followed that up with a statement like, "Yes, for now it's just carnal." For the record, it's not, but it was funny.

In Jeff's defense, he told me Sunday night that being with me is like having a visit from a heavenly messenger, or like being translated. Afterwards, he's left exhausted by my presence. I think this was supposed to be a compliment. He's in my good graces because he read entries in my guest book in what I think was supposed to be a Scottish accent. Which, believe it or not, was even more fun than making fun of people at the fair.

Cut. It. Out!

So in case you were wondering why I've been spotty with the blogs lately, it's because little Ben and I have been hard at work developing a sales program for retrofit insulation applications. The tanking economy has been hard on everyone, and construction is no different. We're fortunate to be doing as well as we are, but business volume is a shadow of its former, glorious self. Anyway, the Segos are enterprising by nature, and Benny has been hard at work, and I feel like my bum has been glued to the office chair for weeks now. We're in the final stages of tweaking our program before the big launch, and were going over a few more things this morning in an informal meeting of the siblings and business gurus. Ben wanted a frequently-asked-questions form for training the new salesmen, and we discussed common concerns we field from clients about insulation. This, of course, was a fairly simple task, but the difficulty came in wording the answers in a way-- especially the salesmen-- could understand. Ben, though his spelling and grammar skills leave much to be desired, has an extensive vocabulary and is every bit as intelligent (if not more so) than the rest of the family. One of his prospective employees, however, is not so gifted in the use of $5 words.

Ben: So, I have a lot of people ask me if fiberglass and cellulose are safe to breathe. I explain to them that fiberglass is made primarily from silica, which is spun sand. As for the cellulose, it's made from ground up newspaper and cardboard, which is treated with boric acid that's used as a fire-retardant. But borax is used in soap and most cleaning products, so it's rather harmless. Still, I'm looking for a better word...

Rachel: How about "innocuous?"

Ben: The only problem is we've got guys like __________ selling for us, and I could just hear him say, "It's actually very innocual, which basically means that if you smell it, it won't in-knock you over."

Bah-ha-ha!
I think my brother should go on tour.
PS. We settled on "nontoxic" at Ben's suggestion.

What Dreams May Come

Shakespeare Snobs, this is not a episode about suicide, but I couldn't think of a better title.
Last night's crazy dream: I was at my boyfriend's apartment, talking to his roommates and looking through his wallet. I don't think I'd be a snoopy, snoopy girlfriend in real life, but he'd left it there and I wanted to see if he had a picture of me. I flipped through the pics, noting many photos of his so-called homely nephew. I saw a couple of weird photos I didn't recognize, but when I asked the roommates why he didn't have a picture of me, they suggested I look again. Turning through the pictures more carefully I saw one of myself in full pioneer regalia on the family property in Colorado. I couldn't figure out why I was wearing a bonnet, but even more disturbing was my aunt in the background of the picture, stripped to the waist as she walked to our pond to skinny dip.
No, I don't have a pioneer dress, and no I don't have a boyfriend, and I absolutely cannot imagine why Melissa would have gotten into the murky pond, but you know, you can't pick your dreams.

Slowing it Down

So I'm finally willing to admit that I have a problem. I love speeding. So, so much. And it's easy to do in my sick car!

Obviously, this is not MY actual car (though the color is correct)-- you can tell by the lack of crazy air fresheners hanging from the rear view mirror. But you get the idea. And if you see a flash of Deep Lava Red flying by you on I-25, it's probably me. Especially if I'm late for church or a meeting, which I always am.

Anyway, I realize I have a big problem. I'm typically careful in the speed trap towns (ie, Monticello, Utah or Bosque Farms, New Mexico), but I really need to cut my head in and take my foot off the gas, because my favorite sin is an expensive one.

Not only did I get pulled over the other day whilst trying to do a good deed (remember Brady's phone?), but also Friday night after spending some quality time with Jeff. Yes, that Jeff. The good news is, even though I was going really fast through Los Lunas, the Bosque Farms Police Officer just gave me a verbal warning. He was really nice. Actually, the only other time I've gotten away with a warning was another night after spending time with Jeff. So maybe the moral of the story is Jeff is a good luck charm, but I'd best not push it.

Speaking of Jeff, I have to tell you what we did Friday night. We went to see the worst movie ever.

Well, maybe not THE worst movie. I think that prize goes to Sarah Michelle Gellar's "Simply Irresistible." But you understand what I mean. Here's how it went down.

Jeff and I have been trying to hang out a little more frequently so we don't end up having these 8-hour hang-out sessions. They're fun, but not really good for our sleep schedules. We talked about doing something over the holiday weekend, but I was to be out of town, and didn't really think anything would go. Apparently, neither did Jeff, because he made plans to see "The Last Airbender" with his friend Gregory. When we figured out I'd have Friday night in town, Jeff was gracious enough to invite me to tag along, but I initially turned him down. I mean, really. "The Last Airbender?" I think not. However, I was having the world's best hair day, and hated to see it go to waste. Plus also, my horoscope for the day (which I frequently read but rarely heed) suggested that my social plans for the evening would be much more enjoyable if I kept an open mind. That said, I took myself and my great coiffure to Movies 8 for a little fantasy movie time.

I should say the storyline had some potential. And even though the acting and the dialogue were absolutely terrible, there were, to M. Night Shyamalan's credit, some really good looking men to look at from the fire tribe. But the very best thing about the movie was the people in the theatre. It was PACKED! I actually got there late and had to climb over about three people to sit by Gregory (there were six people next to Jeff, and he told me later they probably thought his pants were on fire when he'd made a big deal of saving me a seat). Well, it wasn't long before I noticed the man next to me (not Gregory) laughing at the dumb jokes, making fighting sounds along with all the Tai chi, martial-arts inspired fight scenes, and exclaiming loudly about the "awesomeness" of the film. At a particularly serious point on screen, I looked over to observe the enthusiastic man next to me was wearing a dress! And that's when I realized I was basically in the middle of a big D&D convention.

The other best (movie-related) part of the evening was listening to dress man and company's conversation during the credits.

Dress Man's Friend: Well, that was a good set-up for a sequel.

Dress Man: Yes, well, IF there's a sequel at all. This movie didn't do
that well at the box office, and the critics hated it.

Rachel, sarcastically to herself and under her breath: Gee, I can't imagine why!

Dress Man's Friend: It's just because the anime freaks didn't like it.

At which point I thought to myself, "Chump, who are you calling freak? You hang out with a man dressed like Friar Tuck!"

Anyway, obviously my open-mindedness was rewarded. And I got out of a ticket. And I had great hair. Now that's what I call a Friday Night.