And if You Have Five Seconds to Spare, Then I'll Tell You the Story of My Life

Life Looks Like

2012-01-24T11:28:00.001-08:00

This morning, the office was deliciously quiet. Not too many phone calls, everyone out but me. There's always more to do, of course, but I had a moment or two to think about my romantic life and appreciate what is proving to be a new year of Bohemian abandon.

New addiction: Pinterest. I'm happy to say I'm limiting myself to a few minutes a day, but since joining last Monday, I've made two trips to Hobby Lobby.

In Celebration:

My favorite local band, Le Chat Lunatique, released a new music video on Friday, and I gathered some friends to join me at Low Spirits for the show. May I suggest downloading their cover of Paula Abdul's "Straight Up?"

New Favorite Sandwich Joint: Prime.

The Kitty Kat Club is delicious, but share it with a friend, because like all the sandwiches here, it's immense.

New way of going back to my roots: The Holga. I've been a little distressed thinking I've lost my ability to shoot on film. I'd love a nice digital SLR sometime, but with other things competing for my small, small discretionary income (e.g., plane tickets to South Carolina and Seattle, a bike, a freezer, tuition to an online bridal consultant course, a gorgeous drafting table from Cost Plus World Market), I'm going small and trying my hand at film again. I'll let you know how it goes.

New place to hang out:

(My friend Michael loves power tools. I love light bulbs and spray paint. I think I have a partner in crime.)

New Year with Old Friends:

We've been going to Szechwan for as long as I remember. Much love to Ai and her family. Last night's food was phenomenal!

Happy Year of the Dragon, everyone!

Volume 2012, Ed. 2

2012-01-09T16:24:00.000-08:00

Today's Likes/Loves:

1) Boys who do dishes. Hint.

2) The name Elodie. This is evidence of my further identification as a francophile in my old age. I held off for a long time, but the thing is, the French REALLY are cooler than most. At least aesthetically. Poor Germans with their big, heavy furniture and big, heavy names. (eg., Brumhilda. Sad.) Anyway, I like this name so much that it may have cracked my top three for girls list. Not that Elodie is that much less cumbersome than Jemima, Daphne or Elaine (which isn't so bad, but I insist on pairing it with the middle name "Fairchild").

3) Mustaches, real or fake.

Some Things I Love-- Volume 2012, Ed. 1

2012-01-08T14:58:00.000-08:00

A few things I really like/love today:

* A mix tape my old friend Hunter made me for my 26th birthday. Today I'm particularly grateful I still have a tape deck in my car and on my stereo at home, because this thing is a treasure. H, with the help of several other friends (you know who you are!) threw me an amazing surprise birthday party that year, and the capstone gift was a tape where he'd interviewed many of my friends about our friendship. It still makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

*Memories of other true kindnesses paid to me over the years-- like the time Kathy and her family took care of us after my grandmother died, and how her husband Mike gave us all money to use at the gift shop at the Rio Grande Zoo (can there be a better gift to a child?!?!!). Or Skye bringing me flowers and leaving them on my car after the world's most terrible night. I think of Dr. Whipple and my friend Nathan giving me a blessing when I was sick, and a group of nuns praying the rosary for me. And then there was the time my friend Stephen took me to BYU Homecoming just because he knew (thanks to another friend, Hilary) that I'd never been asked. I think of my friend Justin coming to all my birthday parties over the years, and the way he and Brecken invited me over for Thanksgiving the year I had no where to go. I'm grateful for the three times I received Valentine flowers-- Tommy, Scott, and the Erics, you are wonderful!

* I love times with my friends-- those random adventures that bring a smile to my face-- like supporting my friend Scotty in the Park City Marathon. I'll never forget my long day with Shawn, Mike and Chad and the horrible Italian food we had after Scott's race. This year is going to be filled with adventures.

There's a little gratitude for today. Seems like a good way to start off the year.

December Baby (Comma) You are My

2011-12-27T15:45:00.000-08:00

And now, an update on how I've been spending my time:
Since the holiday extravaganza, mostly I've been curled up on my couch, in front of the fire and the Christmas tree I FINALLY put up, enjoying the lights and the electric throw Michael inspired me to get. I don't know how I've lived without one all these years, but Sam's Club has a good deal on 'em if you're in cold and and in need.
Hmm. Christmas was good. Too good, as usual, in the gift department. Amongst the favorites (and believe me, it's hard to cull out favorites amongst favorites)-- the ukulele (my fingers are sore, but I'm working on developing some calluses, because this instrument is wicked!), a hot-water bottle outfitted in a sweater, and a copy of Anthology Magazine. Don't know how I've lived without the latter thus far. I'm ready to subscribe after my wallet recuperates.
On the whole, I'm rather happy Christmas is over. I know that sounds Grinchy, but it's like I can finally breathe again and just enjoy the last week of the year. I have nice plans. For example, on Saturday I'll be helping out with Zoey's Birthday Party. What kind of party does a 4-year-old have? Fancy Nancy, of course. So I'm in charge of Charm School for about 8 little girls. Fun, right?
Of course, there will also be the Singles' Extravaganza Saturday night. I'm tired just thinking about it, truthfully. Don't expect a kissing report this year, because the candidate list isn't just bleak, it's dismal. Best kissing opportunity went belly-up a week ago Sunday when said chump made me cry and got bumped off my list and out of my phone (read: life). Que sera, sera.
Still, NYE remains one of my favorite holidays-- drinking sparkling cider with Pam, dancing like a dancing fool, staying out too late. Yes, this sounds like a typical weekend, but there's something magical and renewing about it. I've already started my list of resolutions. More on that and upcoming creative projects in the next few days. Right now I'm off to do a little end-of-an-era partying. Cheers, chumlies.

Coming to You Again from On the Sly

2011-12-12T11:40:00.000-08:00

Whew! Lots of paperwork to do today. It is a Monday, after all, but here are the highlights of the weekend:

1. I sold a bunch of clothes. This may sound a little dismal, and if you only look at it from the perspective that I was feeling particularly poor after making a large balloon payment on the mortgage, there is a touch of the Tiny Tim to the story. And my first attempt didn't go so well. I went to Plato's Closet, because cute little Shelby works there and told me they were buying. Shelby S. remains the coolest, but they didn't really want my stuff (too old-looking, too fancy, too big [!]). It could have been discouraging, but I'm happy to say I just moseyed on over to Buffalo Exchange where my cast-offs were treated with much more dignity and respect. And I got a lot more money out of 'em, too. The best part was they bought a lot of my upcycled lingerie, and I felt great about that. I got a fair price, I got a little more room in my closet, and I got my ego stroked as the employees oohed and ahhed over my goods. Loved it.

2. I went to a movie. The film itself was only so-so, but the company was terrific: Cory, Melissa, Spencer and... Louise Sargent! Yes, you all know Lou-Lou is in the Philippines, but we had a little holiday miracle and spoke on the phone just before showtime only to find out we'd be seeing it at the exact same time (even though she's 14 hours in the future). Lou is one of my number-one movie pals, and I ate some popcorn in her honor. Yes, L, ours was buttered, but the next day I was sick from it. Yuck!

3. Church=amazing. Many thanks to Nathan Rackley and his gorgeous rendition of "Beautiful Savior." Who knew that kid had such a set of pipes on him?

Tonight=River of Lights Round 2. It's drizzling now, and may snow later, but I'm over the weather keeping me in!

It's Been Too Long

2011-12-09T08:40:00.000-08:00

The other day my mom said, "Don't go wasting time blogging." Um, excuse me, it's been more than a month! So while Mumsy and Daddums have a meeting this morning, I'm going to engage in some catch up. Sorry friends. My mom's knee replacement really was the sole focus of my life for quite some time, but I'm back, even if I have to do it on the sly.

PS. to my mom: a waste?!?!?! Um, excuse me, but I have like, three adoring fans who want to know all about me! :)

Of course, there's too much to cover and not enough time, and I can't remember everything, but here are the highlights:

* Mom's surgery-- went super well. The first few days we were all a little freaked out that she might have been over-medicated, but we taught her phrases like "Just say no" and she's doing really well now. That first week was really long, and really tough. She was in the hospital for five days, and then I stayed with her constantly for the next four. Now, four weeks later, she's spry as can be. There's still some pain, but she's walking like a champ. She does use a cane (we named him Herman), but mostly for stability. She doesn't really need it, but it's helpful in public. Also, she points with it. My once easy-to-please mother is now a cane-pointing fury, but I love her just the same.

* Christmas Prep-- coming along. The presents are all made and wrapped, ready for distribution. Still haven't decorated, but perhaps this weekend, if Ray will let me out of work ever. Aren't Fridays supposed to be easier? Boo. Tonight & tomorrow morning should do the trick.

* My social life-- well, the life blood pressure is low, but the heart is still beating, if faintly. Totally kicked the aforementioned boys to the curb. I don't feel like it's been a big loss. I did have a couple of dates with a REALLY nice boy, but schedules and terrible weather haven't helped our cause. I don't know if WE really have a cause, but I guess I'll hold out hope. Meantime, another boy asked me out. I'm not really sure I'd like to go out with him again, so I may have to pull a Jackie Kennedy and say, "I'm sorry, that won't be possible." I am not a wheel-spinner, you know.

* Finding Fun Elsewhere-- rewarding. As you know, I'm 30 and a half. Plus a few weeks. And when I turn the big 3-1, I'm ousted from the singles congregation I attend. Oh, these folks will still be nice to me when I run into them, but you know the old saying, "Out of sight, out of mind." It's terribly true. If I had time and means, I might take a language class. I'm thinking Arabic would be rewarding. Until that firms up, I continue in my love of vintage frou-fraw and higgledy-piggledy. Last weekend I hit a couple of the 4th St. shops for their holiday extravaganza. Highlights: seeing Carol, and all her beautiful creations (Co-op) AND finding out that Karina and I (Vintage and More) have much more in common than a love for glitter: we also have the same taste in music, so finally I may have found a concert buddy. This is particularly satisfying. Almost as good was finding a great crib to refurbish for some lucky child. Pictures to come as the project gets underway.

Anyway, this is all for now. Here's hoping this December will be full of posts: one about visiting with friends, one outlining the family gift I've spent months on, one about misadventures in mistletoe, one telling you all about how I'm dreaming of a Hipster Christmas (I've asked for a ukelele), etc. I've just got to sneak the writing in. I'm back. For realsies.

How I ended up with Flowers This Weekend

2011-11-07T11:27:00.000-08:00

Hooray! I got flowers. Ready for the story?
OK, so don't be mad, because even though the previous exclamation and statement were faithful and true, they imply that the story is full of romance and whimsy. If that is what you are looking for today, you may have to check out someone else's blog. The story of my weekend is decidedly less than romantic, and while my life always has a touch of whimsy, it's because I believe in glitter and making things happy if I can.
The low-down:
It was a rather crap weekend.
At least from the social aspect of things.
So last week I'd mentioned to a "friend" of mine (quotations because acquaintance is better, but now he is nothing to me) that I was planning something fun for the weekend-- the two high schools in my hometown were both undefeated in football (!) and were playing one another, and I was ready to go and see some semblance of success come out Los Lunas, NM.
"That sounds like an awesome game," he said.
"Would you like to come along?" I asked.
"That could work."
Now, for those of you out there who have not read "He's Just Not that Into You," lemme break it down for ya-- "That could work" is not an answer. It's hedging. It sounds polite and gives you hope, but it isn't "yes." And if it isn't "yes," you can't treat it like a yes.
I tried not to let it discourage me. I figured I'd mention it again later in the week. But I didn't see him later in the week because I've been spending every bit of free time I have helping my mother as she prepares for knee-replacement surgery (going under the knife tomorrow at 12:30 MST-- prayers please). So when I hadn't received the typical barrage of texts from Mr. So-n-So, I took the bull by the metaphorical horns and sent a text Thursday night which read, "So the game starts at 7 tomorrow night if you'd like to go with me." No. Response. (Insert cricket noises here.)
I'm not gonna lie, I was annoyed. Because even if someone doesn't want to go, shouldn't they respond? I sent my text around 6 p.m. By about 9:30, I was determined to find other plans. Unfortunately, the one boy who wanted to take me out couldn't go til Saturday. I was bummed, but it was something.
So when did I finally get a text response? On Friday night, 7:10 p.m. Yes, the game had started. No, I wasn't there, because I had no one to go with. The other friend I'd mentioned it to had company coming into town.
"I'm gonna have to take a rain check on that game."
Yes, because this opportunity comes around every weekend.
So I lied and wrote back, "I actually made other plans because I didn't hear from you." (LIES) "Hope you got a better offer."
His a-hole response: "Unfortunately I didn't."
What a wanker!
Whatever.
I spent the evening watching "Burlesque" which is an hour and a half I'll never get back, and then re-read a good chunk of "The Secret Garden." At least Frances Hodgson Burnett didn't let me down.
But it gets better (read: worse)--
The next day I actually did make some nice things happen. I took Mumsy to town to get some Christmas shopping done, pre-convalescence, and managed to finish most of mine. Only my sister and sis-in-law are left, which I consider quite a triumph. I bought myself the world's softest PJs and had some ho-cho and really felt like I'd given my mom a lift.
Of course, when I got to Costco to pick up my mom's Rx and some dinner for her and Papa, I noticed a text on my phone. It was Mr. Replacement-Date, also canceling. In his defense, it was because he was sick, but I'm not gonna lie and pretend I didn't think the Universe was playing a cruel joke on me.
So I went to Trader Joe's and bought myself some orange Gerbera daisies, fuchsia spray roses and purple stock. They're gorgeous. And then I went home, nestled down in the afore-mentioned soft jimmy-jams, and read a little more SecGar. With the time change, I awoke well-rested and ready to start life again.
Unfortunately, church did not prove a major comfort to me. Only three people came to my class, which I worked hard on, but on the bright side, I at least had three students who actually cared about the subject matter. When Rent-a-Cop's pseudo-testimony started, I excused myself to the restroom. He was still talking when I got back, but I missed most of the ridiculous. My head nearly exploded when a girl started talking smack about another religion-- so, so uncouth, and not-condoned by the Church, by the way. There was no room in RS, so I helped a gal with some family history stuff she had questions with, but then sat by myself for most of the meal. Props to my girl Arlinda for coming to my rescue, but I have to admit by then I didn't feel like being rescued. Needless to say, I went home and cried. Later that night, there was no one to sit with at the fireside, and no one talked to me afterwards, save darling Daniel, so I went home and cried some more.
It was a hard weekend. I probably shouldn't have relived it here, but it's a cheap and effective therapy. Lurking haters, feel free to go ahead and spread around my social demise. Tell Mr. Nice Guy what an effective kicking to the curb he gave me before I'd even made it out the door, let alone to the street, and do it in your typical, conspiratorial and gleeful way. You have my permission. In the meantime, I'm just gonna hunker down in my PJs and look at the flowers I had to buy myself.

Not-So-Breaking News

2011-10-28T10:45:00.000-07:00

Don't be mad! This time the absence was totally legit! I was out of town, and even though I don't think any of you readers are thugs looking to break into my cute little house, I make it a point to not announce to all of cyberspace when I'm going to be away from home for several days at a time. See? My excuses are getting better.

Quick run-down as a break for me from the veritable mountain of paperwork I've been digging out of since returning home (you'd think I'd been gone three weeks instead of three work days!):

* Cut the hair again. This time was just a 9" donation to Pantene Beautiful Lengths. Thought I'd spread the hair love around. Also, even though I probably could've gone shorter, Ashley wanted to have something to work with. Long story short: long hair short. Er. Shorter. I like it enough. It's just hair.

* Had an EXCELLENT vacay visiting the bestie, otherwise known as Sokphal. LOVE HER! Great, great times. Highlights: meeting her boyfriend, who I completely love and approve of; pumpkin carving party with her excellent adventure friends (Machu Picchu and Kilimanjaro trips) and my dear friend Eric; Eastern Market-- a tenth the size of Portobello Road but still quite charming; my first experience with Thai; seeing Heather and Bobbie, girls from my days in Poland; buying cupcakes from a truck; pedicures; the Mall of Heaven (Tyson's Corners); finding out that Virginia really IS for lovers, etc., etc. Amazing vacation. Thanks, Phal. You are the bomb!

* Finally, gearing up for Halloween weekend. This year's costume, if you haven't heard, was inspired by Flight of the Conchords "Most Beautiful Girl in the Room." I'm going to be "an air hostess in the 60s." It's important for people to know the origin, just because I don't want folks to think I'm jumping on the Pan-Am bandwagon (how could I without a TV?). Ready to dance tonight!

Have You Seen Me?

2011-10-17T09:21:00.000-07:00

Hullo, All of you in Blog-Land!
My guess is you've been checking faithfully, every day, waiting for a post from your favorite Rachel. Wink-wink. Oops! How did the month get away from me?
October is always a crazy time and this year is no different. Don't be mad, but I don't have boutique pictures yet. I couldn't find my digi camera, but I did have one of those disposable numbers in my junk drawer. Amazingly BAD pictures. Fortunately my friend Christina had her camera, and she let me shoot to my heart's content, but I haven't seen her since the sale, so no memory card of fun for me yet! I promise to ask her.
Anyway, speaking of the boutique, it was a smashing success. It was easily the best one we've had yet, as far as sales go, but considering last year's paltry turnout, our expectations were down. BUT what really makes it cool was it was the single-best Barn Sale Sylvia ever had, so that's something to talk about. Syl made about 65 percent of the profit, but she also put in about that amount of work. You should have seen the wall-to-wall women! After Friday night's "preview" (for dealers and folks who'd been good enough to advertise for us), we thought we were wiped out! But Sylvia, the Barn Fairy, got up in the middle of the night to re-arrange things, so for Saturday's public event, we were ready. Six hours later, the barn looked decimated again. I still drove home with a car load of stuff, but I'd also managed to sell nearly a truckload as well, so it was ok. Fun times. Just don't ask me when we're going to do the next sale. I need a month or two to recuperate. So does my house. I'm finally digging out of all the craft supplies.
Other news: Great weekend in Colorado. We checked out the changing leaves (gorgeous), had a picnic up the canyon, watched the Rangers win the pennant (Robert, my brother-in-law is a Texan and a life-long Rangers fan, so we're happy for him) and "The Parent Trap" (newer version with LiLo, before she was a train wreck). I got a lot done on my holiday family Christmas project, though I won't have time to work on it again for a week and a half. I think I'm on track to have it finished by Thanksgiving. It was a restful weekend, and we came home through Taos to check out the autumn views and the crazies (local and tourist varieties).
Two flies in the ointment of happiness must be mentioned, unfortunately. One was just a disappointment. When I finally got cell service around Tres Piedras, I saw I'd missed several texts from my friend Steve. We finally connected over the phone as I left Taos. He'd been in town with a friend (!) and was on his way to Denver. So even though we were only an hour apart (he was in Santa Fe at the time), I missed out on seeing this good old chum. Sad face! I would have loved to have hosted Petty and his buddy.
2nd item is truly sad: My dad happened to check HIS voicemail when we got back to Los Lunas and were just a couple of miles from my parents' house. Good thing he did. Our neighbor had called to say a wild dog was stuck on our fence and at least one of our sheep was dead. It was awful, but much better than finding out when we saw a dead sheep in the field. Apparently it happened around 5 yesterday morning. The dog got away. Two of the three sheep were dead, and my poor brother had the unpleasant task of putting the third one out of its misery this morning (this is awful, but having nursed the last sheep who'd had the misfortune of a similar attack for a week before she died, it really was for the best). This is why I can't handle pets.
Well, hmm. How's that for a Debbie Downer note?
Anyhow, life marches on. Surely more has happened/is happening/will happen in the next few weeks, and I promise to be better with the updates. And you probably won't even have to look for them on the side of your milk carton.

Did you know...?

2011-10-01T23:45:00.001-07:00

You probably know that I sometimes bind books. But did you know I once hooked a rug (which I'd also designed)? It wasn't too nice, unless you're into burgundy and peridot shag (which I actually am), so it never made it on display, but I did it.

Did you know that I've been a longtime devotee of 1 percent milk but recently made the switch to skim? I never thought I'd say it, but I'm a big fan. It started out just on my Special K, but I find a whole glass refreshing. Maybe I'll become a regular milk drinker at last. Or even a regular cereal eater. The times, they are a-changin'.

Have I told you about my secret love of Lifetime, Television for Women? I blame my college roommate, Vanessa. We spent many Saturday mornings watching Lifetime Original Movies. Nessa actually would watch about three or four every Saturday and tell me about them and I'd be jealous that that productivity bug had gotten ahold of me after one and a half. Netflix + Lifetime Series "Drop Dead Diva"= happy Rachel, even though the show isn't that great.

Are you surprised I cried during LDS General Conference today? Maybe you're not. I was pretty warm and fuzzy during the temple announcements-- the Provo Tabernacle hit really close to home-- but I positively wept during the obligatory "if you are a righteous woman who hasn't had the opportunity to have children because you haven't found an eternal companion" caveat. It was tricky when I realized they were talking about me a few years ago, but after a talk with some church leaders recently, it felt very real. I was glad no one was around to see my face contort into Sloth's from the Goonies.

And when did you figure out that I'm a huge poser and not a morning person at all? I mean, I've conditioned myself to be, or at least I WAS conditioned. Early morning seminary will do that to a person. But life at the BYU destroyed that, and now even though I like to go to bed early, I also like to sleep late. And by late, I mean 7:30.

Sometimes I stay up late and laugh in my bed about really dumb things. I'd tell you some of them, but I'm not in my bed so they're not coming to me. It'll happen just as I'm drifting off to sleep, jarring me awake so I can start the whole settling down process again.

Do you feel like you know me a little better now? I do, because this morning, I'm not sure I could have told you any of this. I didn't really know. Except maybe about Lifetime.

Sick of this Poo...

2011-09-27T16:44:00.000-07:00

My life, I'm sad to say, is full of poo these days.

And I mean that literally.

Between dog-sitting the new puppy, a niece in diapers and another one who is potty trained but needs help after a No. 2, I've been cleaning up poo constantly.

Thank goodness for wet wipes and Febreeze.

How Rachel got her Groove Back

2011-09-23T18:04:00.001-07:00

I think I've finally snapped out of the bad mood that's had a hold of me since July. (July!) Sure took long enough, right?

It isn't that folks are much nicer or that things are all that different, but I had a good moment of minor fury that really put things in perspective this week.

On Wednesday night, I was hanging out at the Institute after a very interesting talk about the 12 tribes of Israel with President Kearns. There wasn't a whole lot going on, so when a boy I recognized from church waltzed in, I tried to make some pleasant small talk.

"So, tell me more about you," I started.

And he did. He told me about all the countries he's lived in. He told me about his family. He told me about the languages he speaks. He told me about his family's ties to the mafia. He told me about his ex-wife and his current girlfriend. He told me about his education, and his job, and how he looks like a certain leader of the free world.

When he finally took a breath, he said it was so refreshing to have someone talk to him that was genuinely interested in getting to know him, and not because I had a romantic agenda. O. M. Gosh. I tried to laugh it off, secretly asking myself if all men are this self-absorbed, as he told me it was so nice also to have someone talk to him about himself, rather than asking his friends. Double O.M. Gosh. But he concluded by saying, "Yes, I'm really an open book." Clearly, because I got the whole three-volume life story.

I tried to find some common ground. I said, "Oh, yes, so am I. Is there anything you'd like to know about me?" He blinked a couple of times and said no.

Hahahaahahah!

But he said, "I know you. You're Rachel Sego." Pause. "Wait. Are you related to ALL the Segos in town?"

I know the kid is foreign, but you'd think he'd have picked up that it's not a very common last name.

"Yes," I said a little warily. Truth be told, there are a lot of us, and while most people have a pretty good opinion of the family, there are a few bad apples always threatening to spoil the barrel.

"So you're related to ____________ Sego?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I hate that *$%*&$*#. I plan to sue him someday."

Yikes. Ironically, this particular member of the family is someone who is typically more likable than some of the others. I was surprised.

So then I had to listen to a story about how my relation "did him wrong." Awkward. Especially because while the situation was weird, it didn't really ring true for me, and I'm guessing there's a lot more to the story. Also, I don't really know that my relative did anything wrong.

Anyway, after half an hour of him raking my family member over the coals, he left me to talk to his girlfriend's family, and trotted away, not remotely aware of how offensive the whole conversation way.

I think we've all been there. Who hasn't had a day when they've been mad at a parent/sibling/uncle, etc.? But have you ever heard someone talking smack about that same person, even on the day that you might be a little less than pleased with the family member in question? You're immediate response is to go, um, ape-poo on them. What gives them the right to talk about YOUR family?!?!?!

And believe me, I know the Segos are not perfect. Sego men are known for their tempers and their grudges. There are a couple who are pretty proud of their monetary success, and it's a little obnoxious (especially because my dad is an ambitious man who has never made money his god, and I really appreciate it), particularly when people make inferences about your family's worth based upon others' bragging. I've got a relation or two who we all run from at the family reunion because they boss you around, say things that are inappropriate, or are generally obnoxious. Some are self-righteous, some are back-woodsy and some are certifiably crazy. But they're MY family. I'll take them, warts and all.

And this particular conversation got me thinking about my crazy Tuesday night. Here was a chap who thought that he'd rescue me from some social obscurity, but clearly he doesn't know who I am or anything about me. He obviously didn't know where I lived, because he was mad it took me 45 minutes to drive to his place (never mind what it cost me in gasoline and groceries). While I was cooking, he asked me if other people were aware of my talents in the kitchen. I laughed. Of course they are. I'm Bonnie Sego's daughter, so it only comes naturally.

Disclaimer: I will now enumerate just a few of the great things there are about being a Sego. If you are of the "Segos are obnoxious" school of thought, 1) You can skip to the end and 2) You probably shouldn't be reading my blog anyway. Now, on to the prideful tirade:

Who do these people think they are? Actually, it doesn't matter, because I'm Rachel Sego (and apparently greatly influenced by Gossip Girls and Chuck Bass, though I digress). I'm educated. I'm really funny. I can handle any domestic challenge, large or small. I make people feel at ease. I am interested in everything, so I have friends from all over the world who help me sate my curiosity and zest for life. I'm a homeowner. I can bind my own books and make my own quilts. I'm able to can food and I'm able to teach a Sunday School lesson that'll knock your socks off. I'm the walking embodiment of Relief Society. I've traveled, I've explored. I've got dreams and a long check-list of life experiences I'm tackling, so I'm never boring. I don't settle for mediocrity. I'm well versed in theater as well as football, and I bleed Cougar Blue. I use Aqua Fresh Extreme Clean toothpaste, and my teeth are every bit as nice as Wade Hyer's. I'm a California-born New Mexican, and think the Land of Enchantment really is enchanting, because I make the most of every place, every situation, and every season of my life. I come from the world's greatest family, and if you talk smack about them again, President Obama look-alike, I'll beat you in the teeth.

And while I'm on the subject of my family, let's talk about them, because they are infinitely cooler than I am. I was just at my brother's house this evening and he showed me all the improvements he's making to his property. The kid is building a barn with his OWN TWO HANDS. I mean, he designed it. He's welding it, piece by piece. He showed me how he'd run electricity to a tack room he framed himself and the water trough he's got rigged to a float so it fills automatically for the horses he plans on getting. He's got a plan for chickens and rabbits. He's got an amazing garden. The boy can do anything.

Then there's my sister-- she just can't stop accomplishing. Finished with her college degree? Oh, then why not go to cosmetology school as a step toward opening a spa someday. After that, sure, she'll be a teacher. You need someone to take care of kids with special needs? Sure, she'll get her masters. Ashley can make anything beautiful, whether it's your face or a cake or a gift or a space.

My siblings married well, too. My sister-in-law is a nurse, and a non-stop ball of energy. Plus, she's produced the two most wonderful little girls, and is incubating child No. 3. My brother-in-law is one of the genuinely best men I've ever met. No one could be kinder or more compassionate, and he's so great with the kids he teaches and coaches.

And don't even get me started on the extended family-- my cousin Mitchell likes to laugh about an old family reunion t-shirt we all had that read, "Segos-- We're good people." But that really sums it up.

So that's it, my friends. My ah-ha moment of gratitude. Because I'm Rachel Sego, and the name alone says a lot.

Superlative

2011-09-21T08:55:00.001-07:00

Would you believe last night was the best date I ever had?

No?

Good. Because that would be a lie.

Talk about the worst evening ever!

Boo.

But I'm gonna talk about it here, because then I only have to relive the horrid story once, and not over-and-over again. When people ask, "How did things go last night?" I can just give them the link.

So first off, it wasn't really a date-date. Which I didn't know until last night, obviously.

And next, a disclaimer: I'm not at all interested in the boy of the story. And before you get extra mad on my behalf, just know that I never was. Why? Many reasons:

1- This boy obviously likes a friend of mine. And I am happy for her (or at least I was-- now I'm not too sure about his character).

2- A girl I know and quite frankly, don't like at all, had a crush on said boy. This alone would cause me to run in the other direction, because this girl's purpose in life seems to be to make mine a living hell. I'm not gonna compete.

3- Myriad other reasons. He's nice enough and attractive enough, but I generally only crush on long-established friends, of which he isn't. Good enough.

So anyway, on to the set-up: About a week and a half ago I was sick with a cold/flu. I stayed home from church and sat in my dad's recliner trying to sleep. I felt like poo. I finally went home Sunday night and tried to work on some projects to keep my mind off the fact I was tired and restless and uncomfortable. Got a text from a number I didn't recognize-- it was my new FHE dad inviting me to the next day's activity. I figured out who it was and sent a verification text-- "H, is that you? This is Rachel Sego." So he asks me, "Is that sinking into the couch Rachel?" And I said, "No, because I have no idea what that is in reference to. Actually, it's the Rachel all your friends don't like." I shouldn't have said it. I should have said, "Your family history Sunday School teacher." Or possibly "Rachel with the good hair." But I was still feeling actively hurt from his circle of friends and I had a passive-aggressive moment. So while I didn't have a voice, I texted a few people back and accidentally answered his phone call. "Oh, THAT Rachel," he said.

I told him I didn't want to talk because my voice was strained as it was. So then I got a series of text messages telling me that he knows people are mean to me and it isn't right (it isn't, but still it's a bit awkward coming from a boy who doesn't really know me at all). And then an offer to "talk." Um, why would I want to talk about this at all? I just got over crying every day about it. Plus, my voice was on the fritz. More concerned texts, and I began to feel like a project.

So over the next week, H keeps up the campaign. Finally after all the "is there anything I can do for you" solicitations, I decided to turn it around and say, "Well, is there anything I can do for YOU?" He tells me he doesn't know how to cook. Would I teach him to cook something we could eat afterwards-- and unfortunately-- then talk? I was weary of the bombardment, so I consented with a tentative yes.

The thing is, I got to thinking I'd been wrong. In telling a few of my most-trusted companions about the whole thing, only one person found it insulting (and he spends a lot of time being bitter anyway), whereas several friends essentially said, "Hey, give the guy a chance. Even if he does think of you as a project, at least it's coming from a good place." And I agreed. Still do. He's pretty nice-- or at least he has decent intentions.

I'd even gotten to the point where I was looking forward to the evening. Sure, it had meant missing a meeting of a group that's pretty important to me. Also, I'd had an invitation from a friend to go over and watch the season premiere of "Glee" and "New Girl." It would've been fun, but I'd already made plans with H. Unfortunately, my Glee-watching friend was pretty upset about it, but a commitment is a commitment, right?

Anyway, last night finally came. I worked all day and then scooted home to get all the stuff I'd need. I wasn't planning on teaching him how to make anything fancy, but you never know what kind of things people have or don't have in their kitchens. So I loaded up several reusable grocery bags and drove the 45 minutes to make it to his apartment. When I got there, he was on the phone with someone and yelled for me to come in, so I just got to work in the kitchen, making a peach pie with some of my precious, preserved Palisades peaches. Those things are like gold in our family!

The pie was ready to go in the oven, and I had started on the Caprese salad when the latest of half a dozen text alerts came over his phone (he'd been responding the whole time). I said, "someone really must want to get a hold of you" or something like unto it, and he said, "Well, the thing is, I'm over-scheduled. I didn't know it was going to take you 45 minutes to get here, and I'm supposed to go swing dancing at 7." It was about 6:55 and the pie hadn't even gone into the oven.

Well, what can you do? In my case, I made him a sandwich and left the ingredients to make a really good salad. I told him how to bake the pie while I packed up my things and tried not to look too hurt. He didn't argue, and he didn't help, unless you count him carrying one of the bags of groceries to my car (which really speaks volumes). There was a feeble invitation to go swing dancing, but it didn't take a lot of instinct to know that this would have interfered with his plans with the person or people he had considered a better offer. On the whole, it was pretty demoralizing. I went home.

I told my sister about it last night, who in turn told my brother-in-law and my mom. I'm pretty sure my dad heard about it too, because he told me he loved me about five times this morning before going out to a jobsite. That's possibly the worst part. Mostly because it hurts them. Of course, when my brother finds out, his reaction won't be pleasant either. Yesterday I was at work until past five, and I said, "I really need to go because I have plans tonight." Brother was incredulous. So either his teasing will be justified, or he'll feel bad because he'll think he jinxed me.

I'd sure like to have a social life that wasn't just full of mortification.

An Education, Part II

2011-09-20T08:06:00.000-07:00

Another thing I knew, but had forgotten:

Confidence and happiness are attractive.

There was a time in my life when I was a dating machine. What made the difference? That I liked myself, just the way I was. That I felt I was doing all I could to be the best version of me. And though there was still plenty to work on, I felt like what I was and who I was were both pretty OK.

I'm getting there again. I like it.

OK, now for some fun stories from last night:

So we were "speed friending" for FHE. It was like speed dating, but not really, though my little pal Sean walked away from the activity, having planned dates with at least four different girls. Go Sean Green! I like it.

I sat by fabulous Chelsea, and had to laugh when Urban Cowboy didn't want to talk to me (I didn't particularly want to talk to him either) and bolted as soon as the "move it along" horn blew. Also, many thanks to Chelsea who helped me get de-Bradded last night. We were talking to my friend Reilly, who mentioned Sunday had been his birthday. Being the generous and loving person I am, I told him Chels and I would both give him a birthday kiss. I thought this offer would be good for her, because R is a very sweet boy, and I didn't want her to waste her time with UC. But I got tricked-- Chelsea gave R a kiss on one cheek, and then it was my turn. I went in to return the favor on the other side, and the punk turned his face! So, no, I'm pretty sure it wasn't as magical a kiss as when Adam kissed Pam at an earlier speed friending activity, but I feel better having the last person who kissed me not be Uncle B.

Another highlight from last night was hanging out with my friend S. It had been a while since we had bonding time and he makes me laugh. Things went pretty well. I'd give the outing an A-. The reason it wasn't a solid A wasn't really anyone's fault. Well, no, it might have been mine, actually. He'd suggested we go get ice cream somewhere, so we met up and started driving around. It was a little late, so there were a lot of places that weren't open, but we were on one of the Burque's main drags, so there were plenty of places we could have gone. Why didn't I suggest one? Here's the big secret: Because my wallet was completely empty. I mean, I have NO money. I'd cleaned out the meager bit of change I had earlier yesterday morning, and put it in my trusty piggy bank. I'd spent the last bit of cash I had on green beans at Smith's case lot sale and my poor checking account is really on the low side. It's terrible! This is the time of year when I really have to pinch pennies because I've got to fill the propane tank before the cold season. Approximately $500 there. I need to buy pellets for my stove so I can heat my house. That's another 400 clams for the winter. Car insurance is due at the end of October. Goodbye $$$. Property taxes. Ouch. Home-owner's insurance. HUGE ouch, especially because you pay through the nose and get nothing in return but a promise of the company dropping you if you make a claim in the next couple of years (can you tell I'm looking for a new insurance agent?). Car registration. Mortgage. Holidays. Oh my!

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, poverty. So I'd had some money woes earlier in the day because I was poor and what not. What does this have to do with ice cream? I'm pretty sure S would have got me the ice cream, but I have this compulsion to pay on any outing with a boy. I have to at least offer! But how can I offer when I have no money?!?!?! So I just enjoyed the very good conversation whilst we drove east and west, hoping we wouldn't actually pull over anywhere so I'd have to confess my lack of funds, which may not have made a difference anyway.

My cop-out: "You know, I'm not really a big ice-cream person anyway." (Good thing that's actually a true statement-- I can take it or leave it.)

His come-back/on: "I can see that." Me: "Really? Why's that?" Him: "Because you're sweet enough without it." Awwww....

So despite my private mortification, it was a good evening. I guess if a boy asks me if I want to get ice cream, maybe I should just let him take me for ice cream? No wonder I don't have a boyfriend. I can't even be normal about dessert!

I'm having dinner with another boy tonight. We're cooking together. No dessert planned. I just can't handle it.

Life lesson, number (next): learn to be a better recipient.

An Education

2011-09-17T12:25:00.000-07:00

So here are a couple recent life lessons:

1) Don't push someone away when they are genuinely making an effort to be your friend. That's just silly.

2) You don't always have to listen to everyone else's "helpful" advice. Especially when it's unsolicited, and sometimes even when you've sought it out. There are a lot of folks out there who do have your best interests at heart, but that doesn't always mean they're right. They'll tell you how to dress and how to talk and what to talk about and why you're wrong to feel the way you do. They might be right, but at the end of the day, you've gotta be true to yourself.

So it's not always all about me...

2011-09-09T08:15:00.001-07:00

Lest you think I've grown up and lost my propensity to narcissism, just know I've got something bigger than myself to talk about today. Tomorrow I'll return to self-absorbency, I'm sure.
On Wednesday night, I talked with my sister on the phone. She'd had something terrible go down in her neighborhood. The 13-year-old boy across the street, an only child with incredible parents, tried to take his own life. Sister only knew because there were myriad emergency response vehicles parked in front of her house. She saw the medics taking the boy out on a stretcher and trying to revive him, and the parents speed off in their car behind the ambulance. While she and I were on the phone, she had another call. It was her neighbor calling from the hospital, asking her to check to make sure the police had properly locked her house. She told my sister what happened-- and I'll spare you the details, but this poor woman found her own son. My sister and brother-in-law took care of their dogs. And after a horrific 17-hours, the young man died.
I've hardly been able to think about anything else. I've tried to distract myself, and work and a little TV helped, but I've stayed up tossing and turning and praying for these parents. I don't know them. We've just waved. But all I can think about is what it would be like to live in that house after such a tragedy. I've asked myself what makes a THIRTEEN year old so desperate that he gives up all hope? I've been praying constantly for the family to be comforted. All I know is that whilst I happily watched Strawberry Short Cake with my sweet little nieces, there was a little boy 40 miles away who felt like he couldn't go on. I couldn't have done anything, but who else COULD I do something for who is in my sphere of influence?

The Big Burn

2011-09-06T08:46:00.000-07:00

I'm gonna take a page out of my girl Taylor Swift's book-- like her or not (I'm not always sure I know), you've gotta give her credit for kicking butt and taking names and then putting those actual names in her songs.

In some instances, naming names is truly unattractive. I'm thinking about the time Freddie Prinze, Jr. was on Rosie O'Donnell and talked about all the kids in high school who were mean to him. It seemed a little childish. But then again he likes to say that he grew up in the hood, had to put food on his momma's table, and saw people get shot. Sure thing, tough guy. You went to La Cueva, home of the most spoiled of Albuquerque's druggies and you had a few chores. Whatever.

Anyway, don't ask me why T.S.'s calling people out is better, but somehow it is. Maybe because it's in a catchy tune?

I don't sing, obviously, but this weekend was a bridge-burner all over the place, and the more I think about it, the less I care. I'm too old to take crap off of anybody. And I'm too good.
So I'm not going to go completely Taylor on you, but you all know who you are. I'm through.

Gossipy Ms. K, stop dealing dirt. You get your hands dirty, and everyone knows.

Know-it-All U.C., I don't trust you, and it's going to take a lot more than your bravado to win me back. PS. Games come back to bite you in the butt. Glad it worked out for your pals this time, but it's a bad practice.

JD, I love you, but you've gotta stop making me cry. And if that means I'VE gotta stop hanging out with you, we may just have to take a break. I'm running out of Kleenex, and you're not helping. I know you're trying, but it's not working.

Drama President-- you've got to stop living your life through everyone else, and quit stirring things up. Surely you're tired of watching the carnage by now?

Dopey, did you really have to come into my Sunday School class and insult my teaching abilities?

Of course, I'm just as guilty. I enabled Bad Penny. I tried to be nice to former-evil. I was a listening ear to the young pontificate. PS. to him-- get an education! Bestest is not a word!

Oh, grr! I've had a terrible weekend. I'm ever-so-grateful to my parents who didn't say I-told-you-so and to the true friends who checked on me. I wasn't myself at all. Thank you Dex for loving me in spite of my crazy, even though you provoke me like mad. CJ, I'm sorry I said I don't think of you as a sexual person. It didn't come out right. Love, I'm sorry I picked a fight with you and brought up past transgressions. It was childish. Thanks for your forgiveness. Curls, I' promise I'm not always so emo. Mr. Walks-on-Water, I'm sorry I cancelled our dinner. I promise a good effort when I'm myself again.

And why is it that I'm not myself? Ever heard the expression "give-out?" I think that's where I am. Despite U.C.'s urging, this idea of "taking care of no. 1" doesn't really work for me. I'm trying to send out all the love I can, but don't know where to get it. Not JD's couch. Not from the gossip-mongers. Trying to make others feel good about themselves is a big part of my fairy-godmother identity, and life feels wrong now that no one needs me. And I've remembered this weekend again why it is I hate asking for help... because when it doesn't come, it's devastating. I don't even know what to ask for. Just don't give me any more matches.

God, Please Give Me Stong Wings. Amen.

2011-09-03T16:46:00.001-07:00

This should not be a major revelation, but just in case you didn't know when I'm feeling cornered or angry or sad or anything that revs up an adrenal response, flight wins over fight for me every time. I'm very sad right now. I'm hoping I can fly long enough and far enough away that I can forget that fact for a while.

Confessions-- Mine, Not Usher's

2011-08-30T08:20:00.000-07:00

Winning quotation from last night: "I'm kind of a literary genius." -- Wade H.

Have I told you about my friend Wade? You'd like him. He has really nice teeth. That's what initially made me want to be friends with him. But he's also really nice. Extremely, actually. He makes mix cds. He is a cowboy. He is nice to me even though I think horses are scary. We like to talk and have fun. He's kind of a gypsy, and I find that fascinating. Embarrassing Confession No. 1, which I can tell you because I told him last night: Sometimes when I listen to the Dwight Yoakum-heavy play list he created for me, I fantasize that I'm Sandra Bullock in "Hope Floats." Not when she's left by her husband on a two-bit, nationally syndicated talk show. Sandra when she gets to go out dancing with Harry Connick, Jr. I have a little friend crush on him.*

Confession 1 1/2: Yes, I've been listening to country music lately. Let's chalk it up to my eclecticism.

Confession No. 2: I face-stalked my ex-boyfriend yesterday. I didn't mean to, but I'd been talking to his sister who I'm still in intermittent contact with. The man is married. How long he's been married, I do not know. I'm just really happy to say that it didn't send me into a spiral of depression. You may think that this should be the normal reaction anyway, given our relationship has been over for nearly three years, but I finally feel nothing. It feels good, my friends. Best of luck to his real Rachel (the one he left me for). I wish them both well.

Confession No. 3: I normally go to Colorado for Labor Day Weekend-- it's kind of a family tradition. But I didn't realize it was THIS coming weekend and I made some other plans. The juicy nugget here is that I'm relieved that I don't have to go. Don't get me wrong, I love the cabin, and I'll now need to find another time to go and do my chores (I've been charged with the responsibility of washing all the doors and windows and thresholds-- not a bad job, but we have a lot of doors and windows, so it'll take some time). But I'm just glad it's not this weekend. I'm glad that I don't have to work Monday, and I can have the day to do whatever it is I need to get done, even if that means doing nothing. Also, because my family is taking the new puppy with them, I get a break from Sophie-sitting, and even though I'm enamored of her, I'll confess I won't really miss her. Much.

Confession No. 4: I'm a little annoyed with B & S (hahaha! together they are BS!!!!) for their antics last night. Whilst enjoying the company of three nice boys at the IHOP, S was good enough to announce that a) I'm on Weight Watchers (thanks, dude, really love that you called attention to one of my most obvious weaknesses) and b) that I'd "ruined" his dating life. And B, did you really have to tell the world that you'd kissed me? Boo. I'm at a point in my life that I don't want the entire world to know every time I kiss a new guy. Blaaaahhhhh! It's a good thing I love you, B&S, but y'all had better shape up. No more ruthless teasing in front of people we don't know all that well, ok? S, I still owe you nachos.

Confession No. 5: Spencer (not to be confused with the aforementioned S) is saving my crafting life again. It feels shameful, but I'm relieved to have Spencer and his Staples skillz cutting all my album cardstock down to size. Am I a crafting sell-out? Probably. But even Martha Stewart has assistants. I also like Spencer because he is such a confident little fellow. I regret that I fall into the minority of girls who AREN'T madly in love with him, but he is such a good guy that I may arbitrarily shift him into friend crush territory, 2nd half of definition.

Confession No. 6: Michael, I think we're going to be friends. I have a legit, regular crush on you, even though I know that it's superficial. I've always had a thing for boys with curly hair and Chuck Taylors.

Confession No. 7: My well-deserved nickname, Kate, is once again apparent and legitimate, because I really am a bit of a shrew these days. Of course, you must understand that my dear kindred Kate really wasn't evil, she just didn't put up with boys' crap. My crap tolerance is sliding.

Confession No. 8: I'm really considering holding Daniela's blouse hostage. She loaned it to me for Hot Singles, and I'm in love with it. I told her I'd like to wear it on a date. Problem: No dates on the horizon! I'd better just give in and give it back. After all, she did have it tailored for her body, not for mine. But I love that girl, and her wardrobe.

OK. You knew all this. Still, it feels good to let someone know. Amen.

* Definition Friend Crush: To admire to the point of distraction, and to possibly occasionally want to kiss your friend's face, but not in a scary, cougar way. To like your friend so much that you wish you could clone him so you and all your girlfriends could date him.

Albuquerque: Hot or Not?

2011-08-29T09:17:00.000-07:00

Friday some friends and I went to Albuquerque The Magazine's "Hot Singles Party." Major thanks to Brad King for the comp tickets-- the night was really fun, but I'm not sure I'd have had the nerve to go without the free ticket.

Let's be honest-- the driving force in me wanting to go (which I have for several years now) is to find out just what kind of people are willing to pay 30 bucks to go to a party labeled "Hot Singles." I mean, you've gotta wonder, are these truly hot people? People who wish they were hot? People desperate to hook up with a hottie? People who think they're hot but they are far from it?

The answer is all of the above. I'm not gonna lie, there were some very nice looking folks there, especially the men. And believe me, there were plenty of men. As in way more men than women. But there were also a lot of passable old men who thought they were pretty tough looking for women with low self-esteem. If I'd not got in for free, the people-watching alone probably would have made the ticket price worth it, though the sheer nerve of some of these folks was nauseating.

Hot: Great vendors. Props to Jade from Toni & Guy for the great manicure, the folks from Massage Envy for the long chair massage (even though I typically don't like people touching me), ABC Cakes for the Lady Gagas (delicious, and super-generous with the leftovers), and my personal favorite, Dennis "DC" Chavez, the coolest silhouette cutter outside of Disneyland. Talked to DC, and his rates for parties are incredibly reasonable. I'm thinking booking him for wedding receptions, because he's super cool, even though you might want to ask him to keep his language a little more church-friendly if you're going that way. Incidentally, DC can marry you, because he's a licensed officiant. He'll also announce your fight, tell some jokes ("Blonds have more fun but Chicanos get it done") and keep you in stitches. Props, DC, props.

Not: Wished the Henna Tattoo people would have been there as promised. Could have used a few more vendors, because you know Albs has more going on than just massages and manis. Oh, and I wasn't super-impressed with the palm-reader. I felt she was pretty hit-or-miss, though I'm an admitted skeptic. She told me I was shy in crowds. Fail. I've realized I'm not really shy, though I'm sometimes fragile. But that's in more intimate groups. Still, good on her for recognizing my psychic ability. Wink-wink.

Hot: The random boy we met who did card tricks. Boy, I saw you take down my blog addy, so I hope you appreciate the shout-out. Glad you're here, bringing a little southern charm to our humble city. Best of luck at Sandia, perhaps we'll see you at the DB sometime (I think there's a group of my friends going Saturday night) and with that girl you were with. She seemed nice, but it looks like she's more into you than vice-versa. Just so you know.

Not: The dear little gal who followed us around a lot. She was really nice, but if she called someone a hood-rat one more time that night, I thought I'd scream.

Hot: The roasted broccoli. Yummy.

Not: Old people who should have just acted normal and partook of the roasted broccoli and left good enough alone. Friends, you were out of your league. I'm talking to you, 65-year-old woman with glitter on her chest. Less is more, and the only glitter you should have should be from your craft projects. I'm talking to you Purple Paul with the fake French thing going on. I know you were probably intoxicated, but you were ridiculous. Also, get some new friends. I'm talking to you County Commissioner Michael C. Wiener. I know you were cleared of those sexual harassment charges, but honestly, get a PR person who will tell you not to show up at an event commenting on women's T&A, and all around acting like a dirt-bag. I almost hesitate to use your name because heaven knows you must have a google alert on yourself and will congratulate yourself on any publicity. And your friend? Glad he's a surgeon, but no one is really that impressed. Yes, you Sean.

Finally, confidential to the skirt-hiker-upper in red: Girl, your outfit was short enough, and no one will buy the cow if they can get the milk for free.

Pennies from Hell

2011-08-22T09:15:00.000-07:00

I guess sometimes when a person makes a bad investment it's better to just cut your losses and get out of Dodge.
Remember Bad Penny? He's turned into chump change, emphasis on the CHUMP. After a fun weekend away (special shout out to my girl JW), I am exhausted, sore (yes Pamners, my entire legs are now feeling it-- just took a while for the calves to kick in) and happy. Or at least I was. Until I came into work to sort through the 36 emails waiting for me in the inbox. Many were just junk. No biggie. Some were dictionary.com words of the day. Good. Here and there were some updates from the Construction Reporter. But there, in the midst, was a dreaded email from the chump. I knew I shouldn't open it, but I am a glutton for punishment, a curious cat, etc.
Have you ever had an "apology" letter that is really someone passively-aggressively chewing you out? The gist usually is, "I'm sorry, but guess what-- I hate your guts because you are the scum of the earth and the reason I was a complete a-hole is because of all YOUR problems. I basically had no choice. So even though I made you feel like poo the other day, you really ought to know that it's all your fault, and I'm telling you this because I'm such a good person." The letter was pretty standard and true to form. Penny is a narcissist, so what did I expect? I struggled. Write back and rip him a new one? Delete it and pretend like I never knew him? Submit meekly to his myriad criticisms? Before you get all commenty-advicey, I'll tell you that I chose a combination. I initially deleted. Then I wrote back. I'm pretty sure my own missive was a touch P-A, but that is the beauty of righteous indignation, my friends. I asked him to kindly restrict any further communication to comments on the weather. I don't expect to hear from him again. At least, not until he is again on the rebound. Mea culpa for going out in the first place, knowing what I knew and for expecting to enjoy myself anyway. And mea culpa for even reading the email. And mea culpa for bothering to write back, but now I'm done. That penny wasn't even worth chucking into a fountain. I'm leaving it in Las Vegas for some other unfortunate to pick up, tails-up.

Hello, McFly!?

2011-08-19T09:18:00.000-07:00

I think I'm in a funk. Or a fog. Something fishy is going on.
Lately, I don't know where my brain is. I think I can hear it sloshing around in the brain juice in my head, but somehow the synapses are not firing.
First, a clarification: My friend Chris is not married, nor was he. He pointed this out and I promised to spread the word. Ladies (and possibly gentlemen) rejoice.
Next, perhaps I was too tough on Bad Penny. Oh, don't think I'm anxious to let him back in. But I guess I was hoping hanging out with him would snap me out of whatever hazy mood has taken over. I'm like a crafting zombie, and while the creativity is good, it's also draining. Last night after laundry and putting a few odds and ends away, I cut up even more of those plastic water bottle flowers, and I dread having to assemble the mirrors, but I know once I get started I'll feel better. I made some fans out of decks of cards whilst watching "Where the Wild Things Are" and it was only as I finally went to bed that I began to process what a little pill Max was. I'm glad he's not my child. I'm not a fan of biters, you know.
Also currently going on in my half-conscious state: I'm getting set up left and right. I know that I'm not paying too much attention, because I'm being uncharacteristically open-minded about the whole thing. Everyone has someone they want me to meet: President Brown gave me a list of boys to date and I didn't put up a fight. I just told him to keep the list and he could suggest to anyone he likes to ask me out. What? I love PBS, but I'm not sure I should give him carte blanche on my social life. A friend pushes boys my way right and left, but I kind of think it's because he wants to live vicariously through me... probably not healthy. I've been spending an inordinate amount of time working as a decoy for a friend who has a less-than-desirable admirer, which has also kept me up late several nights this week. Even my mother's cleaning lady has chimed in: "Racial. I have idea. I know a man. He is verry funny. Only problem, he have two boys already." I told her to go ahead and introduce me, because she is a kind woman and I know she is sincere, though I'm not the biggest fan of children who are not my nieces (see notation about Wild Things Max, above). I've got to snap out of this, or before you know it I'll be a mail-order bride instead of running a booming bridal consulting firm. In the words of my friends S & R, "This has got to end!"
So what's the problem? Lack of sleep? Creative overload? Office burnout? Mild depression? Who knows. Maybe someone hypnotized me and forgot to snap their fingers so I'd wake up.

Spinning Right Round in the Revolving Door

2011-08-17T14:45:00.001-07:00

So you all know I have this problem my friends call the "Revolving Door of Men" in my life, yes? Boo. It's a terrible fate. Certain men make infrequent but regular appearances in my social scene, and perhaps it's because I'm nice or perhaps it's because I'm bored, but I let them in. No more!
Boo.
Terrible date last night. Sorry to disappoint, Val and Company, but there were no sparks flying last night, despite the delicious and intimate dinner at Paul's Monterrey Inn, even though we jokingly told our waiter Mark that it was our 9-year-anniversary. My square-peg of a date is a bad penny that keeps turning up, and while I thought it would be nice to see him again, I went home sad-- mostly because I think, "Ugh, is this my fate? This guy reminds me of a turtle, and I'm just not that into sea-life." In all seriousness, though, let's just chalk it up to poor judgment on my part, going out with this chap, and be happy he lives hundreds of miles away. Ugh and Grr. Oh dear, I'm reduced to typing guttural sounds of fury. This does not bode well.
Let's move on to another topic-- an old friend who revolved right in and out of a recent dream. My college chum Reuben and his wife were the star's of Monday morning's phantasmagorical show. I've actually never met the lovely Mel, his wife of several years and mother to their darling daughter Kung Pao, but in this vision she and Reub were renewing their wedding vows. All the men wore space suits, except Reuben who opted for a purple silk shirt (silk shirts are nasty, but he still looked charming). Mel was the real star of the show, however. She made her entrance to the front of the cathedral via a system of pulleys, hidden beneath a bunch of purple balloons. You could see her black, one-shouldered mini dress was gorgeous, but the balloons were the center of the display. As she descended slowly, she'd pop the balloons with a push pin, giving the illusion she was descending due to the ever-decreasing balloons. What an entrance! With such dramatic appearances, old friend Reuben and family may drop into my dreams any time.
And speaking of old friends, long-time readers may remember a tribute I posted here several years ago. Remember Chris of the Hammer Pants fame? Chris who was so nice he consistently invited EVERYONE in our classes to his birthday pool parties on Edeal Rd.? Chris with the funky toes and fancy dance moves? If you are a Los Lunas contemporary and you didn't know Chris Payne, you missed out. Big time. Pretty much the nicest boy in my entire career at Daniel Fernandez Intermediate School.
Chris also has happily re-entered my life. Here is what he looks like now:

Sorry I stole your picture, Chris. A little too chiseled, perhaps, but friends, you must understand that beneath the actor's exterior lies an incredibly brilliant mind. Welcome back to my life, Chris, even though yours is much fancier than mine. I've missed your doodles and that crazy-huge backpack, your spiky hair and ability to be kind even when you were busy doing math more complicated than most of us ever learned in college. Remember the time I totally embarrassed myself because I didn't know who your dad was and he asked me if I'd seen you at the speech contest and I said, "Oh, I don't know, he's always late" and then I realized you were connected and I was completely mortified?!?! Thank you for being my friend through two solid years of embarrassing moments, and now again despite cliches and run-on sentences.

Weekend Plans

2011-08-12T09:51:00.000-07:00

So it's Friday, and you can bet I'm glad the weekend is here. Things have been busy and productive-- my favorite combination-- and I'm ready for a change of scene. Not that my office isn't a cozy little piece of the insulation kingdom, but you know, it might be nice to spend some time at my own house this weekend.

So, what will I do with my 48 hours of "me time?"

During last weekend's tax-free holiday, I managed to get a couple of super-cute outfits, but I think they'll stay in a bit longer (or maybe make their debut on my up-coming trip-- definitely would prefer for my bestie and her buddies to think I don't dress like a slob). I could go out with a member of the YBC (Young Boys Club-- an affectionate name I have for all the age-inappropriate fellas in my life) and see Le Chat Lunatique again, but I'm sorely tempted to stay in. Why?

It's coming-- this year's Boho Babes Boutique-- We're calling it "Boho in the Barn," because this year's sale is happening at Aunt Sylvia's farm in Lake Arthur, NM. It's a gorgeous venue, a lovely time of year, and a change from the Sego Farm, which is now occupied by my cousin and his family.

The sale is the 2nd weekend in October, so I've got a lot to do. Aside from the typical weekend church activities and responsibilities, I planning on busting through the craft closet, reorganizing, and finishing as many projects as possible. On the to-do list:

* Wonderland Party Kits
* Vintage Hankie Scarves
* Edgar Allan Poe-inspired curiosities
* Screen-printed holiday linens
* Ephemera Collections
* Ribbon Flower Accessories
* Plastic Flower Mirrors
* Up-cycled lingerie

And that's just this weekend! As I have something penciled in for practically every day until the boutique, this is going to have to be a productive weekend. Gotta strike whilst the creativity is hot. If you need me, I'll be covered in paint, modge-podge and glitter, singing The Smiths and working from dawn to dusk (or longer). No interruptions, please. Little Martha has much to do.

My Polish Heart

2011-08-11T09:41:00.000-07:00

Found this little essay I penned a couple years back-- thought I'd share. It's not particularly good, but at the time it was particularly sincere. And I feel the same, even if the words are lacking.

Even at the age of 28, the term “grown-up” feels stodgy and elusive. Look around my house, and you’ll see the meticulous eclecticism of a domesticated gypsy. My furniture, for the most part, comes from flea markets and yard sales because I am young and poor-ish, and I fain artistic sensibility. I pay my mortgage with Mr. Potato Head checks, and my toaster burns Mickey Mouse’s face into bread. I’m pleased to have maintained my childlike qualities without being childish, and there is a vibrancy in my life I hope will never go away. But on the other hand, I’ve acted 45 since I was 11, carrying a briefcase in fifth grade, announcing my political aspirations, and spouting paradigms founded on the ideals of my childhood crush Alex P. Keaton, suavely portrayed by Michael J. Fox on “Family Ties.” I am an old soul; I am a complicated woman. I am a Neil Simon character, and in some ways, I’m a Sybil.

But if there was a magical, transitionary time into adulthood, I’d guess it was the summer of 2004, when I went to Poland for a second term of study abroad. I’d just graduated from college two months before, and I gamely (eagerly?) put off the real world in favor of six weeks in the Motherland. The previous summer, I’d been terribly sick— in and out of the hospital during much of the program, and my language skills didn’t progress far beyond, “Hello. My name is Rachel. My kidney hurts. Please help. No, thank you, I don’t care for any kielbasa.”

So even though I knew the responsible, “adult” thing to do was to start looking for a job and become a productive member of society, I found myself on a laughably iconic, European jaunt before facing the real world. I was trying to take the road less-traveled, but I found myself on a path trod by numberless Bohemian spirits before me.

I was nervous. It all felt so irresponsible! Who goes away to a country to learn a language spoken by a relative few, simply because of an inexplicable love of the whimsical? No, of course it was more than that—there was the duty of honoring my beloved ancestors (though I’m only a quarter Polish, I’ve always said it’s the 25 percent of my body containing my heart—doubly appropriate because once someone told me Poland is shaped like a heart, and I’ve never pictured left- or right-ventricles since). And there was the added benefit of Andrew—a boy I’d met and revered in a literature class at BYU—and basking in the majestic glow of his aura for six weeks. In July and August of 2004, the pedestal I’d placed him on was only six floors down in our nun-run dormitory at the Catholic University of Lublin, and I could worship at the altar of his feet—my own sage and guru, or, if I’m being totally honest, my own crush.

I did feel grown up getting off the plane and helping some lovely people from South Africa exchange their rand for Polish złoty. I remember being particularly pleased with myself as I approached a taxi driver and asked, “Przepraszam, pana. Ile to kostuję pojechac do Hotel Ibis Centrum na aleją Solidarności?” The man laughed at my formality (and likely my accent), neglected to answer my question about cab fare to my hotel, and gave me a patronizing, “very good” in English before sending me out to navigate imposing Warsaw. Still, I remember being pleased with myself. For an afternoon, I was alone in a foreign city, and I was determined to be brave. I checked into my hotel without incident. I ventured out by myself to buy a phone card to call New Mexico and let my parents know I’d arrived safely. I even flirted with the toothless, yet handsome boy at the petrol station. For that exhilarating afternoon, I thrived. I lived.

My summer was blissfully magical, and the evolution from young college grad to a more-refined woman happened gradually over the next six weeks. I still embraced learning with the vigor of my undergrad days, and I saw my Polish skills progress from asking about cab fare to having an intelligent conversation about world politics. Once I went so far as to defend an unpopular position, which was a triumph not only as I spoke for an underrepresented minority, but also because I found words to communicate effectively without the crutch of others’ opinions and borrowed phrases.

Likewise, I became more adventurous. Always (and still) the responsible one, I found myself on an uncharacteristic adventure via night train to Prague with Andrew (and a Polish man sharing our compartment), trying to safely fulfill that yen for hostelling. Andrew and I ended up staying in a hotel with twin beds in a dark little room. It accommodated our modesty, propriety and virtue, even if it did make us hostel sell-outs. When recounting our travel histories, we figured no one need know, and at least we looked the part with our backpacks. Andrew carried my large, heavy one (stuffed full with every possible medication and amenity), and I took his, which I think only had a toothbrush and clean underwear. On the whole, it was a cushy way to “backpack Europe,” but I felt I’d traversed a major rite of passage.

Also that life-altering summer, I met some of the most remarkable people—folks living in apartments the size of my current living room, with nearly nothing to their names— people who were humble, healthy, and most of all, happy. On Sunday afternoons, I’d have dinner with local friends who’d open their homes and patiently listen and teach me as I tried to communicate in their language. I think the love I had for their country and culture pleased them, and our mutual love increased the surface area of my own Poland-shaped heart. My Polish friends’ examples still keep me from accumulating too much “stuff,” and their memory reminds me to care more about relationships than possessions.

That was the summer I spent my mornings studying in a gorgeous old monastery, my afternoons immersing myself in the comforting culture, and my evenings sitting on my 10th floor dorm balcony simultaneously weeping and grinning with gratitude.

“Who even gets to live this life?” I’d think over and over again. It brought me to the depths of humility to answer my own question. “I do.”

And though there were times I worried about the impending “real life” just short weeks ahead, I was determined to cherish every moment. More than growing up, I watched with bittersweet fondness as the last threads of my childhood broke away. I relished this short season of luxurious whimsy. Would I ever again have the time or money to immerse myself so whole-heartedly, so frivolously, into something for the mere satisfaction of curiosity—to do something “just because?”

On my flight home, I cried all the way to Amsterdam. I used to think it was because Andrew and I were cruelly separated in the security line, and though his Berlin-bound plane was right next to mine on the tarmac, I’d not been able to say goodbye to this funny little college student I counted as my counselor. But now, I realize it was really because I knew I’d left something familiar in Poland—my former, younger self—even my childhood. I was no longer “dziewczyna” (girl) but “Pani” (ma’am). I realize the country and the experience cemented the long-coming shift to maturity—a change that would have likely occurred even without Andrew—and each day since, I’ve been a better person for the time I spent there.

My time in Poland refined me; it made my metamorphosis complete. I learned I can be brave and lead a life less-ordinary. I learned things aren’t what make people happy—it’s relationships. I learned the love you give out is infinitely more beneficial than the love you receive, but that unselfish giving tends to lead to exponential receiving on that front. Because I blossomed in Poland, I am more gracious and grateful, kinder and more compassionate.

And what of Andrew? He’s still my friend after all this time, and we speak frequently. I called him one night, mortified after a 55-year-old man I’d met at church confessed to having a crush on me.

“Oh, it’s so awful,” I complained. “He’s only four years younger than my father! Doesn’t he know how inappropriate that is?”

Andrew just chuckled at this latest dating debacle of his virginal, little-sister type friend.

“It feels so creepy,” I rambled on. “I feel like I’m still 16!”

“Yes, Rachel,” he said. “But you’ve always been mature, so to him, there’s not the same perception of a 28-year age difference.”

And I guess that’s when I realized the world perceives me as an adult even when I don’t— Mr. Potato Head checks and all.

Quick Word to my WW Homies

2011-08-10T12:38:00.000-07:00

The Cabbage Casserole recipe listed below is 4 Plus Points per serving (serves 12).

What is this, 1950?

2011-08-09T15:50:00.000-07:00

Not to go all crabby-face on you, but chauvinism is a big pet-peeve of mine. There are a lot of things I love about the 1950s-- come see my house or my wardrobe, and you'll understand how influenced I am by the aesthetic. However, men, your "I'm better than you because I'm a man" attitude went out of style YEARS ago.
So the other day, there's a knock at my parents' door. I peer out the window and see a very unattractive man with a beer gut hanging out of his stained white T-shirt. His dirty boots and jeans are typical of workman of every kind, and his long-blond mess of hair doesn't really do much to distract from the big patch missing up top. I assume he's a customer, and open the door to be friendly.
"Hey little lady, is the boss-man at home?"
Seriously.
At that moment, I knew EXACTLY who he was-- one of those asphalt dudes. They always use the same line. They ask for "the boss" or "the man of the house" and then give you a bunch of b.s. about how they've just completed a job down the road and they have JUST enough asphalt to re-surface your driveway. My dad let someone do this once. It looks pretty nice. But when a year later he heard the same line, things sounded suspicious. Maybe we wouldn't have noticed if another tool-box came to the door the very next week with the same pitch. Now, it happens at least a couple of times a summer, and I don't know which to be more insulted by: the fact that they assume only the "man of the house" could make this decision, or the fact that they think my little girl memory won't get jogged when they press the tape recorder that is their speech function. Ugh.
Ironically, I've thought of having my own front drive coated in asphalt, but I guess they wouldn't be interested because there's not a man to give me permission. Oh well, they can take that extra load and add it to the load of crock they're trying to feed me. Not buying, you Neanderthal.

Unrelated

2011-07-25T15:33:00.001-07:00

I was at the family reunion this weekend, and I'm pooped! The following items really are unconnected, except that they're all going on in my brain at the moment. More structure and sass coming to you soon. But in the meantime,

1. Highlight of the family reunion: The Birthday After-Party. Yesterday was my little sister's 26th birthday, and because it always happens at the cabin amidst the hustle and bustle of Pioneer Day and a bunch of crazy Sego family antics, I wanted to make it special. I give it a 6 out of 10. The cake was great, the color scheme inspired (robin's egg blue and fuchsia), and the company was superb. I brought a small helium tank with me and festooned the porch with blue and pink balloons (which my cousin's husband was good enough to point out that it looked like we were announcing a pregnancy, but still), some nylon netting bunting and mason jar twinkle lights. It's kind of tough making a wrap-around porch at a rustic cabin look girly, and I think we really needed more oomph, but my budget was stretched to the limit (I blame you, greedy folks from PNM!!!). So I'd say I got an A for effort, but I wish it had been a touch more glamorous. Still, Ashley seemed to enjoy herself, and after a million Segos left the cabin, we had a little casual get-together that made everyone's night. Picture it: a hodgepodge of generations, drinking sparkling cider out of plastic wine glasses (if you're not Mormon, you may never understand why such frivolity never gets old-- but non-alcoholic bubbly in cheap glasses makes you feel festive in a frat-party sort of way), and singing a bizarre array of music. We decided we were a cross between the Brady Bunch, the Osmonds and the Von Trapps (the latter because we were in the mountains, not so much because of our collective musical abilities). It started out with me singing Elvis (this time went much better than the embarrassing talent show) and Garret's performance of "There's a Tear in my Beer." Then we tried drinking songs (again, higgledy-piggledy and frou-fraw) as I taught the fam "Wild Irish Rover." We went through a lot of 1960s and 70s country for the older crowd, and my dad lost interest when my cousin Curtis (the generational midpoint-- old enough to be my dad but young enough to be a thousand times cooler) started us in on a Queen medley, but it was MAGICAL. I'm not sure the people in tents down the hill appreciated it, but I have a feeling this will become a standing tradition.

2. Mumsy is creating a cookbook for this year's Boho Babes Boutique-- Boho in the Barn. She needs editorial assistance, so she's been sorting through hundreds of recipes, and I'm transcribing, formatting and binding. The job is completely overwhelming, but you'll be happy to know I managed to recover one of my all-time favorite recipes for cabbage casserole. I've been missing it for years-- apparently mom had cabbaged onto it. HAHAHAHA! Oh, I'm so funny! But here it is for you, loyal readers. If you like golabki, this is a hundred times easier and just as yummy:

Stuffed Cabbage Casserole

1 head cabbage
1 lb. lean ground beef
1 onion, chopped
1 1/2 cups instant brown rice, uncooked
1 quart tomatoes, drained
1 can condensed tomato soup w/ one can of water
Salt and Pepper

Cut cabbage into bite-sized pieces. But half in bottom of 9x13" pan. Crumble raw hamburger over cabbage. Add onion, rice, and tomatoes. Cover with remaining cabbage. Pour soup and water over the top. Salt and pepper to taste. Bake, covered, for 1 1/2 hours at 400 degrees.

Simple, healthy and delicious. Make it tonight. Or tomorrow, if you have to go to the store. But do it this week.

3. Everything is generally happy and good. This week I'm going to focus on gratitude. People do so much for one another, but I think folks get really caught up in everything THEY have to do, and they forget that a lot of other people are working just as hard. Ingratitude is a huge pet peeve of mine, so rather than focus on how annoying it is when you send someone a birthday present and then you get a text that reads, "I got the package" and subsequent messages give you the impression that they didn't really like it and they never even thank you for making the effort to remember their birthday at all because you're pretty sure no one else sent them the rubber duckie and the fortune-telling fish and the book you love (not that I'm speaking from experience-- you can tell this is absolutely hypothetical, right?), I think it would be better to just remember to thank all the people who do so much for me. Here is a start:
* Thank you Patti, for leaving sweet comments on my facebook page
* Thank you, Beverly, for knowing exactly when I need a card in the mail for no apparent reason.
* Thank you, Skye, for helping me do the dishes after the party the other night, and thank you, Ben, for cooking the bacon for the Chicken Caesar Club sandwiches.
* Thank you, Thomas, for riding with me to Cost Plus World Market
* Merci, Sister B, for being excited for my weekly weigh-in updates

More gratitude to come this week, though I doubt much of it will be in a public format. But thanks to Le Chat Lunatique, for playing at the Botanic Gardens this week and giving me a great concert to look forward to.

Fill 'er Up

2011-07-13T09:14:00.000-07:00

Let's go back to talking about men I used to love. That was pleasant.

So the other day, who decided to add me as a Facebook friend? That's right. Chevron. Remember him? Personally, I don't know how you could forget. But just in case you did, or just in case you're an avid reader and have looked for the actual story online rather than hearing it from me in person (like all my old Excel co-workers had the privilege of doing two days after it happened), then let me give you a refresher:
Years back, when I was working in the Salt Lake City, the whole country was affected by a little natural disaster called Hurricane Katrina. Now, I don't want to pretend I suffered one bit-- especially compared to the people of the Gulf Coast-- but I do remember there was a lot of grumbling about gas prices.
At the time, if you purchased $50 or more in groceries from the Macey's on 13th East, you'd receive a coupon for 5 cents off per gallon at the Chevron station across the street. Now, you must understand I'm really more of a Phillips 66 kind of girl, but I wasn't making the big bucks, so I took advantage of the coupon use one fateful night. To qualify for the discount, the customer was obliged to pay inside the filling station/convenience store, rather than at the pump. But once I walked in to that tiny Chevron, things were never the same for me.
There he was in all his glory-- huge hair, Rastafarian music, bad attitude. Ah. Adam. But I called him Chevron. It probably was really condescending (ironic, given I was the biggest pee-on at Excel), but he humored me. He looked so young! I reasoned he had to be at least 21 to sell alcohol to all the nasties who frequented his gas station, so I tried to feel better. In reality, he is only five days younger than I am (yes, that means he is currently 30 and sexy, just like me!), but it wouldn't have mattered. I was enamored immediately.
Over the next few months, I found myself shopping at Macey's all the time, and buying way more groceries than I needed-- especially considering I was a Weight Watchers Champ at the time. But I needed excuses to fill up. And heaven forbid there was someone else working at the Chevron when I needed gas. I think on those occasions I probably went down to Harmons' and used THEIR coupon, but only enough to get me to work and back a couple of days so I could hit the Chevron again. Just kidding. I actually did NOT do that, but it would have given the story a bit of stalker-chic-ness, right?
Anyway, time passed by, and Chevy and I got to know one another. One night I'd comment on the music playing in the store. On another occasion, we'd talk about some other nonsense. On a night I was feeling particularly brave, I ended up hanging out with him for about an hour. Business was slow, and he offered me a lot of the old food he'd have to throw out anyway. I declined, but asked him to tell me more about himself. I asked him if he'd ever gotten in trouble with his boss because of something he'd been caught doing on a security camera. Like what? He asked. "I don't know, making out?" "Not yet," he said, clearly thinking he was in. So I said too bad, and quickly excused myself from the gas station. Oh, how clever I was at planting that little seed! Of course, you have to remember I was and AM a really good Mormon girl (don't ask me how I managed to start this little affair with practically the only non-LDS person in Utah, but it's just my luck), so it took me a long time to even decide if I could follow through with my teasing.
What put me over the edge was an award-- my friend Eric had this UGLY statue he called the Kissing Kitty. There were all kinds of rules and regulations, but there was a nice little email club and people would get announcements when the kitty was passed on to its next recipient. One night at a party, I bragged, "Oh, I'm totally going to get the kitty." I'm sure no one believed me-- even I was incredulous.
But it was a Saturday night, and Saturday is a special day. On the way home from the party I needed to gas up the minivan and go to Macey's to feed my addiction, so I stopped off at the Texaco (nee Maverick) where Chevron also worked (apparently today he is a manager at a 7-11 somewhere, so I feel like he's found something he's really good at and he's sticking with it). I was, at the time, a wise woman of 25, and unstoppable.
I sauntered in to the station and made smalltalk. I tried to ignore the Neanderthal working with Chev, and also hoped he'd pick up the slack with the customers while I flirted with my paramour.

"How was your birthday?" I asked innocently.
"It was OK," he said.
"Just OK? That seems a little sad. What did you do?"
"Well, I had to work, but my mother made me a cake."
"That's nice," I said. "I'd actually planned on stopping in to say hi, but right after my birthday I got a cold. Of course, I'm good now. I'm on antibiotics, so I'm pretty sure I'm not contagious."

*PAUSE*: This is the kind of over sharing I'm known for because my mouth often works faster than my brain. Still, at the time, I used it to my advantage:

"Still," I continued, "I wish there was something I could do for you." I was paying for my gasoline at the time, and I pulled out a crisp George Washington. "Here's a dollar."
He laughed. "I don't want your money."
I think I amped up the charm by using a frownsmile and said, "OK, here are the keys to my van."
"Wow," he said. "Would I get to keep the van too?"
I pretended to feel defeated. "Oops. I kind of need to keep that so I can get to work. I guess I could just give you a birthday kiss."
"I'd like that," he said dreamily.

BUT THEN a motorcycle gang came in to buy their Corona or whatever it was they were drinking. I just know it wasn't Diet Coke with Lime. Anyway, Cro-Magnon couldn't be bothered to take care of the Wild Hogs, so I had to hang back lamely, pretending to be supremely interested in the surprising large array of prisms available for purchase at the Texaco counter. The Old Rachel Sego would have shrunk. The timid me wanted to flee. Did I really need the kitty? Oh, yes, YES I did. I kept my feet planted and asked the Fonz didn't he think that cute boy behind the counter should buy me the prism with the cut-glass muscle car in it?
Anyway, the mid-life crisis crew finally left with their booze and their bikes (one of them was kind enough to offer me a ride, but I declined) and I went back to working my magic. I eased down the counter and met up with Chevron behind the Otis Spunkmeyer display and just planted one on him. And then I said, "I've got to go buy groceries." And I left. With him leaning over the counter like he'd just been hit with a bat in the face. Only his face wasn't bloody. It was handsome as ever, and so much more, because he had this amazed look on it that I now recognize as post-kissing-Rachel-elation (I've seen it dozens of times since).
Needless to say, our friendship didn't really turn out to be much more exciting, though there were several other kissing episodes (including one time in a freezer, which was interesting) and I got several free car washes out of the deal. A year after I moved, I went to the SLC for Vanessa's wedding and stopped in for gas. He was still there and had grown a beard. In truth, he looked a bit like Charles Manson, but my heart still skipped a beat. Chevron!
The years have gone by and we've moved along with our lives, but you know what? I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for the man. In the times we hung out away from the gas stations, I learned he was a thoughtful, intelligent, caring person. He made me feel good about myself, and he was supremely respectful of my beliefs. The chapter has long-since closed, but social networking has allowed us a happy look back.
The lesson: Go kiss the boy in the gas station. It'll change your life for the better (though you may randomly get a call from someone claiming to be his girlfriend, telling you he's in jail, sometime down the road-- don't worry, she's exaggerating a traffic citation).

Dear Boys, You are Dumb. Love, Rachel

2011-07-11T11:32:00.000-07:00

Remember a week ago when I was happy to tell you about how all the men in my life are great? Well, the thing you'll notice they all had in common is they were men from my past. The men in the present leave a little to be desired.
Oh, where to start? My social life is the facsimile of a sham, but I typically don't mind. I generally have a laugh and go about with my craft projects, shopping at Trader Joe's, and doing other things that make me happy solo. Quick TJ aside: I love that store for a lot of the same reasons I love Anthropologie-- it's just so sensually stimulating. Who would have thought one could say that about grocery shopping? But, I digress (as usual). Continuing:
Oh, you silly, silly, boys. Do you really think you can get the best of me? I submit you cannot.
On one end of the spectrum is the fella who calls himself the best-dressed looking guy around. He isn't. He asked for my phone number, suggested a change my plans, and then when I consented he'd made plans with other folks. Bad move, brother. Unless I see some flowers coming my way, you're going on ice. I don't think you'll like it. Ask the other boys I've frozen out.
On the other end? A nice boy I like spending time with, though I wouldn't call him a legit crush. Still, I gathered up all my courage and asked him to go out to a concert with me. And he didn't answer. So then his dear sister intervened (thanks AM). But when he did get back to me, the answer was 1. Don't know if work can be avoided on that particular day and 2. Can he bring some friends if he does come? I think I liked my situation a lot more when I hadn't gotten an answer. Picture me now beating my head against the desk. Yes, by all means, bring your friends I don't know on a date with me that you're not sure you can go on. The best question is, when can I ask someone else? Please, let me start the cycle of humiliation again as soon as possible!

Tales and Tidbits and Tableaus

2011-07-08T10:04:00.000-07:00

First and foremost, I must send out my love to all (ok, well, most) of my old boyfriends out there (legit or pseudo). I'm a lucky, lucky girl.
So the other day, I came back to the office after dinner with my beloved friend, Sister Frances (yes, she's a nun). It was a going-away to-do because she's being sent back to the Provincial House in Toledo. Sister Fran is such a great woman, and everyone is going to miss her terribly (most notably the children she's taken care of for the last seven years), so I was in a little bit of a sad mood. HOWEVER, I checked the mail and found a package. For me. From Andrew.
Now, Andrew was never my boyfriend, but I do love him terribly and always have. He is a shining example of goodness, and got married last October. As it is my general policy to not call my married male friends except for an annual birthday hello or under situations of extreme importance (like when I had to tell my friend Sean about a big decision in my life, see below), I'd not talked to dear Andrzej since last fall. But out of the blue came a priority mail envelope with a strange return address-- this was no package from his condo in Pleasant Grove, Utah. I ripped it open to find a nice little note and a bag and pin. From Poland. Woo-hoo! Apparently, they are from Empik, which was a favorite haunt of mine back in the day. Thoughtful, huh? There was also a CD for our mutual pal Nathan. I suppose a) Andrew didn't have Nathan's address, and b) Andrew knew I'd see Nathan soon (he's coming in August, as a matter of fact). Anyway, it was just a little thing, but isn't it wonderful to still have beautiful little surprises here and there? Oh, I love my friends! Even when they join the armed forces and don't bother to tell you they're stationed in Germany, but break it to you with presents.
The next day, I spoke to the very Charming Eric, otherwise known as Eric No. 2 (not to be confused with the Eric I'm eloping with this fall when I go to visit Sokphal in D.C.). This Eric stole my heart freshman year at the Brigham, and I've had a weakness for the gingers ever since. Eric's dry sense of humor keeps me laughing for hours, and it had been entirely too long since we'd communicated. Call it serendipity, or just call it the two of us on facebook at the same time. It doesn't matter. I love you, Eric Otto. Even though you also weren't my boyfriend but used to call me in the middle of the night until you started dating the dreaded Cathy. I'm so glad we're still friends.
These two charming episodes have kept my mood aloft after a marvelous holiday weekend of nothingness. For once, I wasn't over scheduled. My fam was scattered, and so my celebrations consisted of watching two of the worst movies ever (I recommend staying away from "Life as We Know It," but run to avoid "Remember Me" with Robert Pattinson), having a sleepover with my three-year-old darling niece Zoey, painting a dresser, watching a movie with Pam ("Monte Carlo" is family-friendly fun) and so on. Nothing difficult. Nothing to muddle through-- save the RPatz movie. It was peaceful and relaxing. I got a pedicure. And a manicure. And I had my eyebrows threaded. I ate at Mac's Steak in the Rough. I read a book by my favorite author, Elizabeth Peters. I went to a bbq and ended up holding hands temporarily with a friend of mine, and it was sweet. I got inspired vis-a-vis projects for October's boutique. I plotted a picnicking plan. I went to Michael's and once again bought out the whole store (but not really-- just some great clearance stuff). So, you know, it was typical, but the serenity of the weekend made it delicious. And the short work-week has coasted by, and I'm looking forward to more peace.
Lest you think I've forgotten, I did have an important epiphany this weekend (important enough that I felt a text to Sean was not out of the question). I've decided to name my son Atreyu. Like the hero in "The Neverending Story." Part of this is because I think I need to have an equally odd name in mind for a boy (I still don't understand what everyone has against Jemima), and part of it is because I'd love to introduce him just like in the movie. "His name... is Atreyu!" Oh, I'm such a genius! Or I've got too much thinking time on my hands. Still, epic.

Shyness is Nice and Shyness Can Stop You From Doing All the Things in Life You Like To

2011-06-28T08:34:00.001-07:00

I do not have nerves of steel. This is not a surprise.
Normally, this weakness is manifest in confrontation, when I tend to cry, even if I don't want to. Or when I'm trying to be brave. Or when my heart is hurt. Or when someone says something that hits me right in the gut. Despite 20/20 vision, I've long thought my eyes were my weakest point, because try as I might, they always betray me.
As I get older, though, I think I get worse. My hands have been shaking since yesterday. Nothing is really the matter-- just a big load at work, but I actually embrace it. Still, there's something about completing these particular tasks that has me so nervous I'm on edge, answering the phone a little less enthusiastically, jumping down people's throats, and shaking like a leaf. Why I should palsy-up now after 30 years of calm is a mystery.
And I'm terribly shy. Awkwardly. Debilitatingly. Shocked? You've seen me in person, and how I can work a room? You know that I don't let crowds of hundreds phase me when I'm speaking or acting? And surely you know I can call up even celebrities or media big-wigs and not even break a sweat. But it's that small group that terrifies me-- the intimacy that keeps me hiding behind my long hair.
Last night we had a talent show at FHE. I tried to do something I'd never done before-- sing alone in public. It's amazing that when I'm in the privacy of my car or my shower, my singing voice sounds just fine. I can sing to Niece Paizlee and not worry one bit. Of course, there are a lot of things I do in my house that I'd never do in public-- krumping, for instance. Singing should not be a big deal. But oh, it was.
The plan was to sing a song to a nerdy little boy at FHE, but none were there. Instead, attending were a boy who thinks I love him (nope), a boy who used to like me, but I accidentally dissed pretty hardcore, a boy my friend likes, a boy who likes boys, and then another guy. So I thought I'd be safe and choose Other Guy. Bad idea! My hands shook and my voice cracked and my voice shook and my hands didn't crack, but they might as well have. I was terrible!
And I know that my FHE family doesn't care. They're my friends and like me just the way I am, and they don't mind that I can't sing to save my life. But I was so embarrassed! I wanted to run and hide. So I did.
Anyway, I guess I'm more shy than I thought. Oops!

Plans

2011-06-21T09:49:00.000-07:00

Dear Sokphal,
I'm so excited to come see you in October. It will also be nice to see some of my other D.C. peeps, but you know that you are my bestie and it's going to be a blast.
Please tell PG to not go out of town, because I'm anxious to meet this great man in your life.
Also, let's please not go to that weird, naked spa, ok? I've already asked Martin Heinrich for a bunch of tour tickets instead.
Also, I think H&M is a must-stop, because you see, in the boonies of NM, we don't have it, and I'll need to get Pam a Christmas present.
OOH! Christmas shopping! Outlet malls! Or maybe not outlet malls. But I'm getting excited.
Love,
Rachel

Misadventures in Tanning

2011-06-16T15:24:00.001-07:00

Oh, tanning cream, why must our relationship be so difficult?
I appreciate that you give me a nice color without harmful UV rays, but why is it so hard for me to not miss spots in obvious places?
The latest fail was on my neck and chin. I just wanted to look a little less pasty, inspired by my nut-brown nieces who swim every day. Everything looked good until I looked up, and saw a white diamond from the underside of my chin down the front of my neck. I tried to compensate by filling in the spot with more tanning cream, but there's still a little bit of a color mis-match. I've taken to putting bronzing powder on my neck to avoid looking like "THAT girl" with the crazy makeup like. Oh, to be a bronzed goddess. Maybe in a few weeks.
What was really bad was last night I had a date with my friend Rudy. We went to Baskin Robbins for clown cones, and I'm pretty sure my white neck glowed in the harsh florescent lighting.
What was really worse, though, was that I met a nice, handsome chap right before. As we sat together and chatted, I tried my make sure my chin was pointed down, but not so far as to give me a double. I would have succeeded and come out smelling like a rose (because I'd used rose-scented makeup remover before to get rid of that awful tanning cream smell), but then Rudy came up and said, "Ready to go [on our date]?" New boy also probably wasn't too impressed when he saw R and I holding hands later (but anyone who knows us understands the R&R love is just as platonic as it gets!). Blast.
On the bright side, the tanning cream probably hid my blush when I told Rudy about how my WW friends suggested to burn off the Clown Cone Calories, I could just "exercise" after my date. Imagine my horror when I told them the gym would be closed and they laughed and said that's not what they meant.
It's days like these I think I should just escape to Hawaii for a couple of weeks and get myself a real tan.

A Patch of Blue

2011-06-13T08:23:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've said anything scandalous, and I have a reputation to uphold.

The problem is, you have to be sensitive to people's privacy, and, of course, this is a family-friendly zone. I don't want to end up with a bunch of sick-o followers. Still, some stories are just too good to not be shared.

First of all, I have a friend. Let's call him Jim. A few years ago, Jim got his uh-oh pierced, and for some reason or other, everyone in the world knew about it. Yuck! I don't know what possesses people to piece certain body parts, but Jim's a bit of an attention-seeker, so I'm guessing that was it. Anyway, last week I asked Jim if he could come over and help me with some light bulbs that burnt out in my dormer light (this thing is impossible to get to, and J is the only person willing to climb up at 16-ft. ladder and risk life and limb so my entry-way is well-lit). He said he couldn't, because he was having surgery. On what? I asked.

J: I don't want to talk about it.
Pause.
J: But let's just say it's not going to feel good having stitches is something that gets bigger and smaller.

BAHAHAHAHA!

There is, of course, more to this story, but I'm trying to keep things in the PG-range. Let's just say that between Jim and Congressman Weiner, there have been a lot of weenie jokes around the Sego household recently.

Also, because it's only fair that I poke fun at myself as well, I must admit I had a crazy dream last night. I'd rented a villa in Park City with this gun-toting fool I know from church. The thought of going on vacation with him is absolutely ridiculous, but that's a dream for you. Anyway, when we got there, it turned out there were several people we knew staying at this condo, including a couple of friends of mine who like to run around in little short, blue workout shorts (Air Force fellas, in case you didn't know). In real life a few weeks ago, I found these gents, shirtless, on the daybed in my bedroom, just for shock value. But in my dream, there they were, on another bed. Except one of them was wearing the shorts, and the other one... was stark naked! I, being the pure little girl that I am, only saw his backside in my dream, probably because I don't know what the front would look like, and EW. Anyway, I remember just shaking my head at these two, because they're so crazy, but then something FANTASTIC happened. Now, hang with me here... it's pretty innocent. I went into the bathroom and found their clothes on the floor. I picked them up because I hated the mess, but out of curiosity, I slipped one of the boys' pairs of pants on... and they were super loose! Talk about a REAL fantasy.

Friday, I'm in Love

2011-06-10T08:03:00.001-07:00

Another little list of things that make me happy:

* "To Sir, With Love" starring Sidney Poitier and "Enchanted April" starring Miranda Richardson
* My new ironing board cover
* 94% fat-free popcorn
* Franki Valli and the Four Seasons playing at the office
* Teal toenail polish

Things to Love About Summer

2011-06-09T10:18:00.000-07:00

So, summer and I are not usually great friends.
I LOVE autumn and everything about it-- the crisp air, the cozy clothes, the bounty of the harvest... you know, all that fun stuff. Autumn makes me feel like everything is possible again (probably from all those new school year Septembers). But summer? It's so hot, and I'm not really outdoorsy. I don't know how to swim, so cooling off means staying in my office under the air conditioner. I don't look good in summery clothes, because 1) I'm into modesty and 2) I don't have the body for it.
HOWEVER, I'm turning over a new leaf (see, even my cliches are autumn-based). I've decided to love summer this year, and I have big plans for the next several months.
First of all, it's preparing for a fall ritual. Big news: The Boho Babes Boutique is moving to Artesia, New Mexico this year, and we're kicking around the idea of doing it in September rather than October. So in preparation for the big fall event, I've got to get making stuff. On the short-list this year are paper crowns, more of my upcycled lingerie, steampunk jewelry, a re-incarnation of the plastic bottle flower mirrors, and various linens created with the YuDu.
And don't think that I've forgotten about Christmas-- it's June, so it's on my mind. Mostly, I'm trying to get another round of family history documents formatted for the family's Christmas gift. This year I'm doing the life sketch of Aunt Babe. It should be a sweet little volume, but little books still take a long time to edit, format and bind. The sooner I get this behind me, the better. My mum also needs some help with a cookbook she's compiling. She wants to have nice ones made for all the kids for Christmas, but we're talking about selling them at the boutique as well, so I've got my transcribing and editing and binding work cut out for me. So yes, summer means getting a lot of projects done. I do have to say I love the extra daylight-- it helps me be productive.
Another thing that I'm always working on is turning myself into a super-model. Well, or something like it. You know what I mean. The weight-loss total as of Tuesday night was 22 lbs. It's a good beginning. I'm very rewards-driven, so I told myself when I hit the 2-5 I can start tanning again. I know, you cancer-warning naysayers-- but it gets me to the gym frequently, and I promise not to go for more than a couple of months. Just long enough to be bronzed through October (which means I can quit in August) for my trip to DC to see the bestie. I'm hoping to meet her special man, and I don't want him thinking her friend is an albino.
And when I get to the 30 lb mark? I really want this cruiser:

Yes, it's just a Huffy. Yes, it's just from Wal-Mart. Reuben, please don't think ill of me, oh Bike King. I just want a one-speed because I'm not fancy, and I can pretty much only ride it in my parents' neighborhood. It's affordable for a poor girl like me, and I think the (huge) seat will adjust down far enough that my legs can reach the pedals. I like that it's a woman's bike, and I like that it's mint green and brown. I like the big wheels, and I know it will look really good with a wicker basket on the front and a little bell on the handles. I like that I can brake with my feet. So this bike is keeping me going, even more than tanning.

I showed it to my dad, and he said, "But where would you ride it? We don't have sidewalks." He didn't seem to understand that you don't ride on sidewalks anyway, but then again, he didn't understand when I told him I'm thinking about taking an online course to become a certified wedding planner. The thing is, I've always wanted to do it, it's not too expensive, and I think I'd be good at it. Dad, who is in a bit of a Negative Ned mood, thinks the pressure is too high. But I need a little pressure, and I need a side business to supplement my insulation income (and support my bargain-shopping habits). More to come on this, but I'm really excited. I think I'll make the fee for the course my 35 lb reward.

So all-in-all, the long days are full of trips to flea markets and cleaning out closets (it's mostly happy that a lot of my pants are too big, though I wish I could spend my money on more stuff from Michaels and less on jeans), in addition to the long-fiberglass-filled days. I'm planning on helping the nieces have a lemonade stand around family-reunion time and I'm even trying to not be such a heat wimp and going outside a little more. Yeah. Me and summer. We're all right.

In Summary

2011-05-31T09:13:00.000-07:00

I guess when you get old, you get sick. Or, maybe that's when you travel via airplane. Either way, I've been there, for more than a week. This morning I feel better. Finally.
Disneyland=Magical. Although I am glad I don't have to walk around soaked to the bone (Nathan loved that rapids ride at California Adventure) and looking like hell. Have you noticed that looking great on vacation doesn't happen? I mean, at least not when you're more concerned with having fun.
Went to the cabin this weekend with the fam. It was super windy, and it even snowed yesterday morning. I mostly slept, because that's all I could do energy-wise.
But now I'm rested and ready to party! (Almost)
Save me from my solitude.

What to do When You're 30

2011-05-16T08:21:00.000-07:00

* Go to lunch with someone you love
* Give blood (it's a great way to celebrate life)
* Go get a makeover at Sephora, but be warned your age makes it take twice as long as you think it should
* Eat a piece (or two) of Godiva
* Change clothes in a car speeding down a major thoroughfare in heavy traffic (you ought be the one driving, but be careful, because it's easy to get the seat belt caught in your shirt and you have to start the whole process over again)
* Party with your family, biological or curated, because they love you best
* Kiss someone (and make your friends do it too)
* Get a really good neck massage
* Celebrate the accomplishments of others
* Play Truth or Dare, and endure taking someone's shirt off with your teeth, and kissing your friend's boyfriend, who is really her brother
* Get asked out on a couple of dates
* Ask a couple of people out for other dates
* Wake up and realize you haven't grown a second head, and that you feel even better than you did when you were 29

PS. Going to Disneyland won't hurt either...

T-Minus 3 Days and Counting

2011-05-10T09:55:00.000-07:00

Here's another list of things I love:

1) While watching "Something Borrowed" with Daniela and Bubs on Saturday, D gasped and started hitting me. "Oh my gosh! The Hamptons!" I generally don't react that way when I see images of the old family homestead, but it made me happy that she was so excited.

2) My fake relationship. There are two wonderful boys in my life and I love them both in a friendly, platonic, flirt-way-too-much way. The success of our relationship is anchored on a few things. A) We pretend to be in love with one another. B) They pretend to fight over me. C) I pretend to pit them against one another. D) I never tell either of them who I prefer. E) I am secretly sure they like one another about 10 times more than they like me, combined. F) I have no romantic feelings for either of them whatsoever. But that's our little secret.

3) TLC's "Extreme Couponing." That show is ridiculous and addictive. I'll admit, I've been clipping more coupons recently, though I know I'll never be the person who gets $1,000 worth or merchandise for $3.25. And have you noticed how most of the people on that show tend to be, um, hefty? I'm pretty sure it has something to do with all the highly-processed foods they stock up on for free. I need some fresh produce discounts, people!

4) My friend Sean McKissick. I called S for our annual birthday chat last Friday (he's a whopping week older than I am, and as weird as it sounds, it makes me feel better). He was groggy when I called, having seen the midnight showing of "Thor." I told him he's getting nerdier with old age. I told him I was a little worried about my own birthday and he said, "Oh, don't go telling me about your existential crisis. I'm LIVING IT!" Hahaha. I'll join him in said crisis in just a few days. But I think I'm in the process of moving from acceptance to embracing my age. I'm ready for my close-up in an anti-aging skincare commercial.

Reality Isn't So Bad

2011-05-02T10:13:00.001-07:00

It's happened-- full-fledged panic about turning the Big 3-0.

You know what, though? It's not really getting older that bugs me, but it's where I thought I'd be in my life by now that does. There are a bunch of things I think I'm "supposed" to have done by now, and I'm lagging behind a bit.

Here's a picture of me from a few birthdays back-- I think this was the year I turned 27. I love this picture.

Paul (one of the besties) had just taken me out to dinner and brought me back to the family farm for a surprise party that wasn't really a surprise, but it was still so fun. That's Jeff's head to my (your) right. He took me home that night. Just after he left, I got my annual birthday phone call from Sean and his wife. I'd had a pedicure that day, and I'd eaten at Sweet Tomatoes. That night, Blair sang karaoke (The Backstreet Boys, as I recall) and I met a boy who'd sweep away my summer. Look at how tan I was! Look at my hair. Back then, I still wore a watch because I didn't care that it wasn't elegant. This is one of those pictures I would hope captures the way people think of me.
And here's another picture I love: a recent one of my precious little nieces in their Easter clothes.

They look pretty angelic, huh? Or how about this one of Zoey, wearing a traditional Polish outfit: When I bought that little dress in Krakow so many years ago, I imagined putting my own child in it. But Zoey and Paizlee are about as close as you can get, so it's fitting and suits my purposes just fine. Zozobra looks so sweet. But you know what else I love?
I'm pretty stoked this kid is willing to ham it up for the camera and put on a fake mustache. I treasure this little bit of reality just as much as the posed pics.

Also, here's a video of Paizlee. You'll probably look at it and think, "So what's the big deal?" But she's always congested and sounds like it. This video is so classically her. She and Z put their hands on your face and will tell you, "Say Chano!" What does this mean? Oh, nothing in particular, but it cracks them up. So I like it. P also likes to squeeze people's noses. When she does it, she says, "Haunt, Haunt" (her variation on honk, honk, so far as I can tell). I don't know where the kids get this stuff, but I'm happy they do. They're so wild (and intimidating-- I have to take care of them by myself this week, and I don't know how I'm gonna manage), but I'll take them over a posed Ralph Lauren ad any day.

I guess it's OK we use media to give us a point of reference or some inspiration for what we want our lives to be like, as long as we don't let it control us. I can't let the world tell me where I should be by now-- how much education I should have, where I should have traveled (and where and why I shouldn't have), what my wedding (according to statistics, should have happened several years ago) ought to look like, and what material possessions should clutter my home. But I guess it doesn't hurt to hear some suggestions here and there.

I saw this picture in Selina Lake and Joanna Simmons' "Bazaar Style." I hope I'm not causing a copyright ruckus for putting it here. The photo is by Debi Treloar, and it inspired me to no end. The one I made wasn't nearly as fancy, I'd wager, but it's real... a month of work real. Sitting on my daybed real. Broke six sewing matching needles real. If you were to see it up close, you'd notice that it doesn't begin to compare with the original. But I still love it.

Likewise, I don't know how I measure up to where I was three years ago, but I'm kickin, anyway. Today, I'm real.

Crafting Happiness

2011-03-28T10:10:00.000-07:00

OK peeps. Here it is. What I've been waiting nearly a month to write about. My new Yudu! Woot woot!Actually, it's still not technically in my possession. I've been calling Michaels every week, hoping they'd finally get some in stock, and today was the magical day. And, because I have to work (ugh, how mundane!), my mum, who needed to go to Costco, and thus Albuquerque, is armed with my raincheck and cash-o-la. Oh, tra-la! I'm so excited. Of course I need a personal screen-printer(!), doesn't everyone?

Still, it may be a couple of weeks before I bust this thing out. I have to finish that blanket. And finish editing my brother-in-law's dossier (crossing fingers for him to get a raise!). And plant my basil and "Envy" zinnias first. And clean the house from top to bottom. And get rid of my blasted weeds. And find time to practice running outside (because I know it's gonna be way different from the gym). Whew! I'm a busy woman!

In other news, sad mustache face:

Alas, there was no bashio for me this weekend. I just can't go downtown by myself, even if I am nearly 30. Maybe next time. Maybe someday I'll meet someone whose offbeat sense of humor matches my own. I stayed home and worked on the blanket. And the dossier. Ever try to edit a 30-page paper about a weight training class? I'll give Norbert this-- he made it interesting. But it is long, and the process itself is tedious.

One other thing worth mentioning-- Father's birthday was last week. Young Benjamin's gift to him was a flock of chickens. Looks like I'm going to spend my Tuesday afternoons this summer at the local farmer's market, peddling eggs. I already have a T-shirt design in mind to wear as a uniform. Oh, Yudu-- who would have thought free-range poultry could get any more exciting? Yudu, YuDid!

Hey Girl, Where you at?

2011-03-01T15:32:00.001-08:00

So, yes, I've been missing from the blogosphere... again.
My good friend T pointed out that she's been checking my blog every day for the last two weeks, waiting for my brilliance (actually, that's not what she said, but I think she'd appreciate the embellishment).
Sigh.
I've been caught up doing STUFF.
You know, those things that end up taking your time away from throwing out communication to the universe? Like work. And going to the gym. And, oddly enough, quilting.
But first and foremost, I ought to mention that we lost our little dog, Molly, a couple of weeks ago. She was nearly 15, totally deaf, mostly blind, crippled, and severely smelly. She'd had a long, loving life.
Mumsy has had a particularly hard time adjusting, but it's definitely for the best. We miss our little Rumple Face (honestly, that dog had more nicknames than most adorable children!) but no one is looking to get another pup. Ever. Well, maybe someday for Mom, but I think if I end up with a pet it should be a peacock. Not as cuddly, but it would fit well with my love of Art Nouveau.
In other important news, this weekend I plan to attend Moustachio Bashio at the El Rey.

At one point, I thought I'd run another cheeky contest, but then with the death in the family, things got busy. I'll come up with one soon. Meantime, check out my old pal Drew Danburry for some inspiration: http://www.thedailybeard.net/.

I'm afraid this is all. I've read several great design books recently, and gearing up for a new creative endeavor (more to come on this) and I spend any spare time I have working on the most frustrating blanket known to man. It'll be gypsy-chic, but right now it's just a thorn in my side. Must. Complete. Project. My living room demands to be freed from the oppression of antique trim resting on every surface.

More soon. As in very. As in for reals. Pip-pip!

Get Crazy with the Cheez-Whiz

2011-02-21T09:37:00.000-08:00

I believe in the Power of Walgreens.

Sometimes, you just need to get out, and when you live in a small town, there aren't too many options. Walgreens has saved my bacon on several occasions. And sometimes I just find really interesting stuff there.

So the other day, my mom needed to get an immunization against Shingles, and the only place she could do it was the Walgreens of Belen, NM (I should point out that Los Lunas has TWO Walgreens locations, and the newer store is about 10 times nicer than the older one, with a much more-helpful staff, but neither location had a pharmacist authorized to administer immunizations). I love a good trip to Belen as much as the next girl, but I generally only go there to see my doctor or go to a Weight Watchers Meeting (I heart the Belen group, truly!) or to buy bulk spices from the River Market. Until recently, I didn't know of the majesty of the Bethlehem Trading Post or Bernie's Fabrics. Their Wells Fargo is so far superior to the branch I use (with a very handsome teller). But Walgreens, ooh, Walgreens. There were so many great things there!

Paizlee and I wandered the aisles, searching for the new Burt's Bees lippy (no one has it yet, so I'm not gonna hate on Walgreens), but ended up finding a lot of other great things-- inexpensive lavender soap, which makes clothes stashed in the dresser smell great when a bar (in the box) is placed in a drawer; one-hour acne treatment; delicate pink nail polish for spring; Cola Icees for our family of enthusiasts; folders with "doggies" and "kitties" for Paizlee, who identified them correctly and the cashiers fell in love with her; a sampling of Dove Chocolate (4 dark Promises... just the right size for a person on a diet); an iTunes gift card, and....

This little bit of Walgreens magic.

So, we noticed earlier that poor Paizlee has "Aunt Rachel Butt" which means, just a wide, flat expanse. People think we're trying to bring back that great 90s style, sagging, but it's just the way our pants fit. Sigh.

So, nestled in between leftover, oversized stuffed animals and Valentine "love" kits (because who doesn't want to buy fuzzy handcuffs and massage oils at a family-friendly drugstore?) were pairs of "Booty Pop" body-enhancing underroos. I laughed and laughed at this padded underwear, because it reminded me of a conversation I once had with Rudy Parsons at a baseball game (forgive me if you've heard this one before):

Rachel: Oh, it's so sad to have a butt like mine. I've thought about getting a prosthetic bum, or that padded underwear, but I really hesitate to do so.

Rudy: Why's that?

Rachel: Well, because what if someone came up and gave me a little pinch, and I didn't react? That would be embarrassing.

Rudy: I wonder if you'd have the same situation wearing a padded bra.

Rachel: Somehow I don't think so, because if someone were to give you a pinch, you'd see it coming.

Rudy: That's funny, because I've actually touched your boobs three times tonight.

Hahahahahaha!

Anyway, my mom heard me laughing in the clearance aisle and came over to see what the fuss was about. I showed her the "Booty Pop" and she said, in all seriousness, "You should get those."

See how abused I am? Or at least, how much people make fun of my butt?

The testimonial-- not the miracle product I was looking for. I slid 'em on, over my other underroos, threw my jeans back on, and had a REALLY good laugh. They didn't give me a J-Lo. They just made me look fat and like I had a lumpy butt. Someone is going to get these at the next white-elephant gift exchange I go to.

The iTunes proved to be the better purchase. I went sentimental with downloads Friday afternoon:

* Always-- Bon Jovi

* Each Coming Night-- Iron and Wine

* Back to December-- Taylor Swift (Guilty pleasure)

* Rhythm of Love-- Plain White Ts

* Loser and Lost Cause-- Beck

* Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da; Oh! Darling; We Can Work it Out; Come Together; Please Please Me; Hello, Goodbye-- The Beatles

* The Boxer-- Simon and Garfunkel

In other weekend news, I had to say goodbye to my friend Jeff last night. Jeffy is getting transferred to an AFB in Las Vegas. Boo to that. We got a little sentimental. He told me I was his first friend, and then said a bunch of sweet things, and I cried a little bit. Then I gave him the best going-away gift I could think of-- my copy of "Knowing I have Feelings He May Not" by Alison Ann Budd.

Those of you who know me well understand this is my favorite book of beat poetry ever, written by a very angsty girl (at least she was when she was 11). I take comfort in knowing I can buy another copy from Amazon.com, because it was hard to give up, but Jeff needed it so he could read about "stabbing, stabbing, stabbing pain" and feel better.

We spent a good little while reminiscing. We talked about him moving me into my house right after we met and having breakfast with my dad. We talked about him putting my mailbox up for me. We laughed about going on movie dates with his friend Gregory (where I was the third wheel). He confessed his family has a weakness for R-rated movies. We laughed about him getting a nasty lizard out of my house. I forgot to mention the time I saw his naked backside at the hospital when he had his appendix out.

We discussed how we'd describe one another to our future friends. He's going to mention that I have a creepy baby puppet named Desmond, and a chair in my living room my grandmother died in. I'm going to tell folks how good he was at kissing and washing dishes. We are friends, and Las Vegas is a little too far away. But it was the best goodbye I've ever had, even beating out the (first) time Ray and I broke up and I sang "Tell me on a Sunday."

Good Morning, February, How Are Ya? Don't Ya Know Me?

2011-02-15T09:15:00.000-08:00

The 24-year-old me would be very disappointed. Not only do I rarely blog, but I've long-since given up on posting inspired by music from The Smiths. Still, I am here. Shall I vent today?
I'm not gonna lie-- I've been a little surly. Here are a few reasons:

1) My calligraphy class was canceled. I was very much looking forward to it, not only because I'd get to spend an extra two hours a week at my favorite local store (Papers!) but also because I thought it would afford me the opportunity to meet some new people. But apparently there was only one other person in the Albuquerque Metro area who was interested, so that was that. So much for having a good excuse to skip FHE.

2) Speaking of FHE and the Uni Branch in general, I'm having a hard time being there these days. There are some nice people there, of course, but I hate to monopolize them, so I spend a lot of time by myself. Yes, a lot of this is self-imposed, but the people there are SO YOUNG and we have very little in common. Then, there are many mean girls. You know the kind-- they like to pretend to be nice, but they get a big thrill out of irking you. I recognize the signs, because I went through a brief stage of mean-girl myself, which I entirely regret. But one girl in particular makes going to church a rather miserable experience (and that is unacceptable).

3) I've had to cut a few toxic people out of my life as well. One of my best friends, Amber, laughs every time I announce, "I was so mad, I took him/her out of my phone!" She thinks it's funny that such a simple act could be so empowering, like it's the world's greatest revenge. It's more like it's the world's greatest protection, because then if I'm tempted to call or text, I can't. And when I get texts from numbers I don't recognize, but I can figure out who they're from based on the content, I just delete them without replying. The other day, a former friend who consistently backs out of our plans sent one telling me he couldn't do something. Fortunately for me, I'd given up on counting on him a while back and had made other plans. He offered to send me money. I didn't dignify that insult with a response. I wanted to say, "Listen, chump. I don't want your money. I want you to respect my time!" But that would be a waste of instant communication.

4) This very annoying chap keeps asking me out. He called me at home and at work one day. I told him I was unavailable. Then he called me at work the next day and asked again, for the same time. I said, "Didn't we have this conversation yesterday?" I tried very hard to be nice, and accidentally said, "Maybe another time" when he tried to invite himself along/over to my house. Now it's just a matter of waiting for the ax to fall again. Boo.

5) Speaking of people calling me at work, I got a really rude message from a woman I don't know this morning. I'd been in another part of the office, tending to something work-related (imagine that). I heard my mom say, "Rach, your cell is ringing." I rushed to get it, and it was someone wanting me to recruit someone else to babysit her kids. She was very rude on the voicemail, saying she'd called me on Sunday (I think I was actually AT church when she phoned). I'm not sure how this is supposed to be MY responsibility, because I don't know her from Adam, but sure enough, I got her a babysitter. Ugh.

6) Finally, I got a really disturbing message on my home phone. I'm hoping it was meant for someone else or just a random prank, but the person said, "How would you like to be killed in a basement?" or something along those lines. If he'd left his number, I would have mentioned that it wasn't on my list of things to do. Many thanks to the girls who gave me a baseball bat a few years ago.

Whew! That felt good.

But y'all know me. I don't want to give you a case of the saddies. There are a lot of good things happening as well. Valentines Day was a blast-- there's a lot of love in my life, even if it's principally from my nieces. Ashley and I took Zoey to the circus the other day, and Z & I got an elephant ride in. No calligraphy class = time for a Monday-night-workout (did I mention that I'm 12 lbs lighter than the first of the year?). I'm slowly getting back into lingerie design, and planning on launching an etsy shop in the next few weeks. I'm learning to sew, and working on an awesome bead spread. I'm editing more family-history books to give the fam this year for Christmas (I'm shooting for a three-volume gift this year) as well as helping my mom with a cookbook. I'm planning on doing more landscaping this spring, and possibly fixing up a roulotte, though where I'd put it, I have no idea. So I'm busy, and I'm happy. Thank you, February. I'm feeling better already.

Looks Like I Have A Type OR Passing Fancies

2011-01-31T11:34:00.000-08:00

In general, I don't have too many celebrities crushes. I've always had a thing for Matt Lauer. I think Collin Firth is charming. I'd go out with Scott Foley. But these are just passing fancies. I almost hesitate to mention them. Why?

Well, because once in a while, I've succumbed to crazed teen-fandom. And there's a little something all these guys have in common (besides their posters being on my bedroom wall during my formative years):

It's a type of man I'm trying not to go out with in real life anymore. Nothing against them, of course, but I just don't think I'm their type. ;)

Speak, then Think. No, wait. That might be backwards.

2011-01-17T07:49:00.000-08:00

My life is funny. I get into a lot of trouble because of the things I say, often jokingly.

Take, for example, my dad's latest gift to me:

Last weekend, Dad had his once-in-a-lifetime Oryx hunt. I asked him last week if he was planning on having the thing mounted if he got one. He said no, because my brother Ben already has one up at the cabin (along with the rest of his menagerie). So, I (jokingly) said I'd put it up my house. And guess who shot an oryx? With the help of his hunting team (Uncle Leland driving the truck, Ben spotting it, Ben's father-in-law Dan helping my dad line up the gun, and my father pulling the trigger) Raymond, my father who in all his years of hunting has shot only a handful of animals, managed to take down what he called a "mature buck." I'm guessing this translates to "the old slow one that couldn't get away." Hahaha! I haven't actually seen it, because I'm not super-into dead animals, but I understand the horns are broken from years of fighting. But Dad says the taxidermist can fix it, and... he's giving it to me. He told my mom, "I'm having it mounted because Rachel really wants it." My mom was doubtful, but said, "Maybe she can hang it in her black-and-taupe guest room. It would look great in there." But no. Father says it must have a place of honor somewhere in the front of the house. Lesson: Be careful what you joke about. This is also why people used to always bring me motion-sickness bags from their airplane rides (clean ones, of course).

In other news, I read the BEST book this weekend:

If you haven't read something by Kate Morton yet, get to the library right now. I also love her other books, particularly

Honestly, this woman is brilliant. At once, you can't put her books down, but are loathe to finish them because they sweep you away into this brilliant, layered world of pleasure. There are always a few surprises here and there, even if you guess some of the mysteries in advance. Read Kate Morton!

Another book I turned to recently feels like an old favorite of mine, Emma Magenta's "A Gorgeous Sense of Hope." I picked it up a while ago on a whim, and it always makes me happy.

"Hope" hits close to home these days-- a friend and I reached a shaky armistice this weekend. I don't exactly feel better, but it's certainly a beginning.

Yesterday

2011-01-10T09:27:00.000-08:00

I went to a funeral yesterday. It was for a man I didn't know. He was married to one of my childhood friends, for just a few months. But she really loved him, and she was so sad. I cried. I cried for her and for her son and for all the other people who would miss him so much. It wasn't what you'd call a fun way to spend a Sunday, but it makes me glad to know I was there when it counted, and I'll still be there to mourn as she mourns and comfort as she needs it... if I can. I'm a lot better at telling jokes than at being sensitive and comforting.

Giving Into Temptation

2011-01-06T14:22:00.001-08:00

Like probably 95% of the rest of you out there, I'm trying to get myself a kick-butt body. The only think kick-butt about mine at the moment is that anyone looking at me can see how wimpy I am and say to themselves, "Yeah, I could totally kick her butt."

That particular resolution started a couple of days late this year, and so I'd consider this Day 2 1/2 of my new lifestyle. So far, so good. I'll periodically mention successes, I'm sure, but I'm not your life coach, so don't get mad if I don't. Actually, I'd prefer that you just forgot those last couple of paragraphs so one of these days when I post a new picture on Facebook or you see me in person you can say, "Wow. Good job."

That's not what I wanted to talk about anyway. It's not cool to brag about how awesome you are when you're only 2 1/2 days in to a lifestyle change. Instead, let's talk about failure. Not mine, everyone else's.

KIDDING AGAIN!

Well, kind of.

You know, any old Joe can have a blog, and there's a mighty temptation to pretend someone is reading it. And sometimes there's a mighty temptation to pretend no one reads it anyway, so you justify saying whatever you want. Either way, it's tempting sometimes to rip somebody a new one (though, usually I abstain, because, as was previously mentioned, I'm wimpy and anyone in the world could beat me up). So, in an effort to make other people feel better about their own failures, I'll add mine to the list by complaining about annoying people and things that have bugged me in the last week or so.

If you need to take a cheese break to go with my whine, feel free to pause.

1) There's a woman who works for one of our customers. It's not professional to tell you who (and actually, it's not professional for me to vent, but there you have it). She called me today to tell me there was a check ready for us. She is super-duper rude, though. She never returns my calls or emails when I need something from HER but she wanted to complain that I'd not got a lien release back to them yet. I couldn't-- I was waiting on a release from my supplier. When it came in later this afternoon, I sent it along. Not really what I'd call a big deal, but this lady likes to act like everyone is always bothering her. She reminds me of a co-worker I used to have who struck fear in the hearts of everyone at ___ ______. It wasn't because she was impressive, she was just a snot. I think these two are related. If I ever meet her in person, I'd be sorely tempted to kick her in the shin, but then again, there's the problem of everyone in the world being tougher than I am.

2) I was recently reminded Jane Austen's brilliant novel, "Emma." No, I didn't meet my own Mr. Knightley. No, I'm not coaching my own Harriett Smith. Unfortunately, I had a run-in with a modern-day Mrs. Elton. So I was talking to this woman at a casual gathering of holiday cheer, when she kept mentioning her fingernails. It was very odd, but I'd just had a pedicure, so I can understand the good feeling of having at least SOME part of my body feeling good and presentable. But this woman didn't really want to talk about her nails. She wanted to talk about her enormous diamond ring. It was very vulgar. I'm all for women workin' their bling, but to call attention to it is gauche.

3) And because it's a day ending in "y," I recently had ANOTHER man tell me that I was in love with him. No offense to my male readers, but REALLY, members of your gender think rather highly of themselves. I thought of a half dozen snappy responses, but I ended up just shaking my head and not saying anything. If it makes him happy to think that, then fine. No skin off my beautiful nose.

Stay tuned for me to wax poetic about people talking to you at the gym. Seriously, if I've got my headphones on, I'm not interested.

Every Day's a Holiday with Rachel

2011-01-04T10:06:00.001-08:00

Welcome, Welcome 2011. I think you and I are going to be good friends.
So far, so good. The year has included partying with my peeps at a New Year's Eve Dance (and, thanks to a guilt-trip from my friend Nelson, began kiss-free), a blow-out for my 3-year-old niece later that day, "Whip It" and "Strictly Ballroom," and a third party for my 80-year-old friend Lola. Three parties in 4 days is not bad my friends.
This year I'm going to try to incorporate some holiday magic all year long. Today, we're going to call things Thanksgiving. I'm thankful for orange-infused dark chocolate. I'm thankful for the memory of staying out til 3 a.m. with my friend Reuben during our freshman year of college and how proud I was to almost get home after my roommate (that Brittany claimed to have mono, but I think she was tired all of the time because she never came in until the rest of the world was waking up). I'm thankful for my pellet stove that heats my house, and for the lavender-scented eye mask (which, I know, I swore I'd never wear, but can you say awesome?) that allows me to sleep on my couch, warm and toasty but without the glare of the fire. I'm grateful that Santa Claus brought me a Crayola-brand light toy for Christmas so I can feel 5. I'm giddy about my free subscription to "Real Simple" magazine. I'm thankful that Pam and I are going to see "Wicked" at the end of the month and that when I cleaned out my piggy bank yesterday, I felt $48 richer.
Now let's fast-forward to St. Patrick's Day, and I'll tell you why I'm so lucky. I'm lucky to work in the family business, which is only a two-mile commute, and sometimes I can even sneak in a 15-minute break in the massage chair in my office. I'm really lucky to have my family so close-- most of us in-state, and within a 45-minute radius. Those who live further out are worth the car trip, and it's doable. I'm lucky to have a brother who wants me safe, and shows it by building a fence around my property and giving me (pink) pepper spray for Christmas. I'm lucky to have a sister who can not only do my hair and makeup, but also make me laugh with her little voices she does. I'm lucky to have a house and a car and clothes to wear and food to eat. I'm lucky to have traveled so much. You should hang out with me. My good luck will surely rub-off on you.
And for today's last holiday installment, why don't we get a jump-start on the holy season of Lent? Again, you're right when you say Mormons don't observe Lent, but I think it's a great idea to take some time to figure out what you can give up to get closer to God. That's better than a resolution, because you've got a higher purpose in perfecting yourself. One thing I'm giving up right now are the draining relationships in my life. The other day I woke up and said to myself, "Sego, you've been down this road before. Cease and desist!" So goodbye, weird boy who is always negative. You are officially on probation. Adios to you, Mr. I-Like-You-When-It's-Convenient. So long to all the men who creep me out. Buh-Bye to those girls who only call when they need something. Because I figure with all the time I save not worrying about why I'm unhappy with these people, I can go do some good where it counts.

Did I Mention? OR-- All About Ashley(s)

2010-12-31T07:29:00.001-08:00

I think I forgot to mention that Ashley (my sister) Garza colored my hair the other day. My sister Ashley is the most beautiful woman I know, and I'm so grateful she takes care of making me look better, and I appreciate when she lets me tell her what I think would look fun, even if she strongly suspects the results will be less than attractive. I figured putting red and blond highlights in for the last 12 years straight could be dragging down my look. So I ditched the blond. I think it's a little dark. The color looks a bit like that wild, unnatural red Eastern European women favor. Little, Old Eastern European Women, that is. But I think I like it.

In other news, it's the last day of the year. My little friend Ashley Fastle has been stressing over what to wear to tonight's dance. I don't think she needs to worry-- she's a darling girl and always looks really cute and appropriate for any occasion. We tried to explain to our friend Brandi why it's such a big deal-- Ashley argues that it's the first thing you're gonna wear in a new year, so your outfit had better be good. So after that conversation, I started thinking about what I should wear tonight-- I'll be manning (womanning?) the mint bar at Brad's dance, so you'd think I wouldn't get a lot of face time with the humanity, but I'm going to let Corey take over as much as he wants so I can go out and dance like a maniac. Still don't know what to wear, exactly, but Drew Barrymore is my current makeup inspiration:

Beautiful, beautiful Drew. Too bad her name isn't Ashley.

But speaking of beautiful girls named Ashley, my childhood buddy Grant married a lovely Ashley a few years back, and in a final 2011 shout out, I want to tell you she's a big-time inspiration in a lot of ways. A while back, Ashley shared a facebook note (I wish I still had it, and I wish I'd thought this out in advance to ask her permission to share it with you, because it's incredible) about a personal transformation she went through several years back. It's completely inspiring, and just the thing you'd want to read getting ready to make your goals for the new year. Trust me when I say there are beautiful people out there who are even more beautiful because they've worked hard and accomplished what some might consider insurmountable challenges. Good on Ashley Farnsworth!

Now, don't worry. 2011 is just around the corner for a return to my narcissism as you try to become like me. Just kidding. Milego Nowego Roku!

Of Course I Know What I'm Talking About-- I Told Fortunes at a Fundraiser Once

2010-12-30T13:50:00.000-08:00

This time of year, it's pretty common to hear folks grumbling about New Year's Resolutions. Some with post about them, because it gives them an added layer of accountability (assuming their readers will remember and care enough to check up on how they're doing goal-wise). Others use that all-too-familiar cop-out, "The only resolution I've made is to not make any more New Year's Resolutions." In years' past, I've made extremely long, meticulous plans for how I plan to completely overhaul my life, but I like to keep those to myself. Number 1, I'm completely normal and I forget about my resolutions by February 16, and Number 2, I'm really prideful, and I don't want to have everyone else know about all my flaws.
But because I've been the Blogging Grinch lately, I feel like I've got to address the timely topic in SOME way. To do otherwise is just being a poor sport. But because I've been preoccupied with having a life, I've also not made my list of everything that is wrong with me that I need to fix within the calendar year of 2011 (or edited the abbreviated list that needs to be accomplished before I turn 30 in May). Instead, I hereby offer the following 2011 predictions. They have very little merit, and many of them have little to do with me or anything within my sphere of influence, but I'd argue that's what makes them extra-charming:

1) In pop culture, Lindsey Lohan will get out of rehab, but promptly come back in. Russell Crowe will be mad that no one really talks about him and will beat someone up, and the Walt Disney Company will have to give kids a new icon to look up to, because yet another one will want to "branch out from the Disney box" (aka they'll want to do a nudie movie). I know this because history tends to repeat itself (with the exception of the clean-cut Jonas Brothers).

2) In world politics, someone will finally tell Vlad Putin that he is a big baby. And possibly Hugo Chavez.

3) In fashion, the mullet hairdo which has been enjoying a solid comeback since the last World Cup will FINALLY make it to New Mexico, where it will remain in fashion for about five years (otherwise known as four years and eleven months after it is no longer popular everywhere else).

4) Economically speaking, we should see a slow, steady growth in the construction market once again, so those of us who have scraped by and weathered the storm will come out all right and things won't be so pinched. This sub-heading could also be called "Somehow Rachel will get rich."

5) AND, in the humble (yet marvelous) world of Rachel Sego, expect the following developments: training for and finally running a 5k (small goal, I know; shout out to Sokphal, who is running her first MARATHON in Zurich in 2011), becoming a petite supermodel, smoothly navigating my 30th birthday at Disneyland (where I will possibly run into the Jonas Brothers, but even though I know they're clean-cut, I'm not sure I'd recognize them), and getting married November 11 (because who doesn't want to have their wedding date be 11-11-11?!?!?).

For predictions about what will happen to YOU in the coming year, call me now for your free reading.

A Little Rachel

2010-12-27T09:44:00.000-08:00

A smaller Rachel, that is. By about 7 lbs. But not because I've been reading "Body for Life" or doing P90X or all the great things you guys do. Nope, if you're wondering where I've been for about a month, the answer is sick. The jeans are fitting better these days, but I don't recommend doing it this way. On the bright side, it's a head-start to another new year's resolution, so take that, haters! I'll let you know when I can eat something besides Popsicles.
In other news, none of my boyfriends like one another, which has made for an interesting few weeks. Can't really elaborate, but you can imagine.
More blogging soon, I promise. I'm off to get another no-sugar-added Popsicle.

P.S. You're Creeping Me Out

2010-11-29T13:50:00.000-08:00

I realized I forgot a good weekend story (or two).
First, was the traditional uncomfortable time at a (boy) friend's wedding.
Sitting at a table during the post-ceremony brunch, Jake's aunt said, "Oh Rachel, we thought it was going to be you. Sylvia (her sister, and Jake's mom) told us he really loved you."
Um.
Yeah.
What do you say to that?
"Well, yes he did, but not that way?"
Or how about, "Yes, but he was concerned my ovaries were already withered?"
Or even, "Yes, but I'm not young and malleable?" (Which, is not a dig at the bride-- I'm just saying the fact that I'm set in my ways doesn't make me the best candidate for marriage to anyone).
So I just laughed and said something like, "Oh no. Jakey is a wonderful boy, and I love him, but we were better just as friends." Which is true. But still uncomfortable. Kind of like the time my second cousin's mom suggest I marry her son because she thought it was legal, and I wouldn't have to change my name. Anyway, this story is mostly worth mentioning because it tends to happen at most of the weddings I go to. Not a family member suggesting an somewhat incestuous relationship, but people telling me they wished/hoped/thought I'd be the one to marry their little man. I ask you, where are these parents when I really need them-- like when they could influence an offer? Again, this does not apply to the mother of my second cousin, once-removed.
And, on a totally unrelated note, guess what I heard through the grapevine yesterday? A girl, telling a guy, "Oh, it's such a curse to be pretty." And she was serious. It gives me new sympathy for Snow White's stepmom.

My Most Pathetic Writing Month Ever

2010-11-29T08:49:00.000-08:00

So three total posts for the month of November? I'd like to tell you it's because I've been rocking the Nanowrimo, but let's be honest... I've just been busy trying to get through life.
Still, I'm happy to report on a few things:
1) My green bean casserole at Thanksgiving was a hit. Adding a little bit of Trader Joe's smoked cheese on top gave it a new depth of flavor. Also, I modified the broccoli salad. Cranberries instead of raisins, shallots instead of purple onion, and of course, I always add cashews. Yum! I've got Corey thinking I'm the salad queen, so I need to keep adding to my repertoire. Got a good salad recipe? Pass it along! I did get a great new cabbage salad recipe from Loretta (Uncle Jimmy's mom) so that's next.
2) Nathan is coming for a visit this coming weekend. I'm trying to come up with some good stuff for us to do. Any NM ideas for me? My plan thus far is River of Lights on night, a Nativity Open House and Messiah performance another, plus holiday decorating. I hope that's not too lame.
3) I spent tons of time in the car this weekend, basically criss-crossing the state. Early Thursday morning I loaded Aunt Susie in the car, and we drove to Sylvia's for Thanksgiving. Friday (because I'm done with my Christmas shopping) we went even further south to Carlsbad to hit our friend Deborah's antique shop, and a favorite boutique, Neish & Neil. Shout out to the girls there-- Carlsbad women know how to fix up the cutest stores. From C-bad, I drove home to Los Lunas, only to get up at the bum-crack of dawn on Saturday to drive to Farmington for Jake's wedding. Thank goodness for car-time with Dallin, which made the day a lot more than bearable.
4) Yesterday was a good friend day. First, and most importantly, C-dawg is home from his week in Utah, and I'm itching to give him a big hug. Second, my little friend Judge is home from the mish, and we spent a little bit of time together yesterday. I'm stoked to see him tonight as well. Hooray for friends!

So yes, my life isn't too exciting, but at least I'm out and about, right? More to come soon. I promise this time.

I'm Still Here

2010-11-16T14:17:00.000-08:00

So my main computer decided it was having a personal crisis and refused to recognize its own hard-drive. It was like the opposite of phantom limb syndrome. But that's where I've been-- agonizing over lost files. But the word on the street street is it can be fixed with a reload and my "guy" (because one always has to have a guy for nasty jobs) can save my files, and I should be getting the Real McCoy back tomorrow. Good thing. I'm not a fan of this laptop action, unless its in conjunction with me writing something fantastic whilst sipping cider at Flying Star.
Anyway, life is pretty good. For you LDS folks out there, I got released this weekend and am no longer the Relief Society President at the Uni Branch. I thought it would be really difficult, but actually it's nice to have a little time to myself. The new callings are temple coordinator and family history specialist, though, and I find that intimidating (at least the latter). But you know me, I'm up for a challenge. Glad I've been working on the family trees for Christmas gifts.
In other news, my NaNoWriMo project has taken a hit, being a little more than computer-less these last few days, but even if I don't finish right on time, I think I'm actually onto something, which is a good feeling. I woke up with a beautiful ending in my head this morning, which is the world's biggest relief, because I can never finish a story. Ta-Da!
Wow. I must be out of blogging practice, because I'm so boring today! Even MY eyes are glazing over as I type this. I'd love to reveal my scintillating plans for world domination, but I think that might jinx the process, so you're just gonna have to trust me on this one.

A Hairy, Scary Weekend

2010-11-01T10:39:00.001-07:00

Early Saturday morning after a late night out with my friend CJ, I drove to my sister's house for a haircut (A trim, really, but it was nice to get a break from my Cousin It bangs). I noticed as I put things in my car that the night before I'd run over a lizard. His back-end was under my tire, and his face was frozen in pain. It was pretty nasty, and I felt bad. I didn't do it on purpose, of course, but that's kind of what he gets for chillin' in my garage.
I swept his remains out the door and tried to justify my ambivalence. I knew I should feel guilty for killing one of God's creatures, but I was mostly grossed out. So imagine my surprise when I drove west away from the rising sun to see the word "death" appear on my foggy rear-view mirror. It looked like it had been scratched in with someone's fingernail, but it was surely not my imagination.
But I don't believe it was the ghost of my little lizard, so I just had my car washed and hope they cleaned the mirror.

Off the Force

2010-10-28T09:29:00.000-07:00

So I have this friend.
Acquaintance.
More like someone I used to know.
I'd like to know him again (But not in the Biblical sense, of course).
But he contradicts everything I say.
He makes fun of me when I try to be nice.
I'm kind of wondering why I try.

Remember when I was back in college, taking statistics, and tutoring that good-looking guy? He was cute, to be sure, and I didn't mind him walking me to my acting class every Tuesday and Thursday. It was delightful, even though my heart was actually across the country with someone else at the time. I felt helpful, and truly, I felt cool.
But then remember how he suddenly stopped sitting by me? And how he didn't talk to me? And how when I finally called him up on the phone he said that the very thought of me made him want to vomit?
And do you remember how he told me that I just didn't get it, and that the meaner he was to me, the nicer I was to him?
For a long time, I wore that memory like a badge of honor. But I'm tempted to turn in the badge and throw in the towel.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas?

2010-10-26T15:39:00.000-07:00

So I feel like I'm being a major traitor to my favorite holiday. Halloween is just days away, and I managed to put up a scarecrow. That's it. The other five giant tubs of decorations are taking a back seat this year. I've just been too busy, and at this point, I'd just have to take everything down in a few days anyway. My goal is to put out Thanksgiving stuff tonight.
Actually, for once I'm way more pumped about Christmas than anything else. I think it's because I've already started on my holiday shopping. Last week, I purchased this year's wrapping paper and I'm planning out the festivities. Really, I'd love to go home and wrap gifts tonight, which seems crazy as I've not even debuted my Vegas Show Girl costume yet. What's wrong with me?
Perhaps it's the let-down from the boutique sales. We had another Boho round on Saturday, but dismal results. I put up nine signs and only one of them was still standing a few hours later. It reeks of sabotage, but it was probably just the wind. I sold a measly $24 worth of loot. Can you believe it? So much for buying myself pellets for the winter. That would heat my house for approximately six days. Nine if I'm conservative. Boo. Looks like my earnings (plus a little extra) will go toward a new winter coat. Baby, it's cold outside, and it may be almost as cold INSIDE this year. I hope my nose won't be frost-bitten. So anyway, this year's winter coat-- Teal or Purple? It's a big decision, lemme tell ya.
In other news... oops. No other news today. Later!

Recuperation

2010-10-22T08:09:00.000-07:00

You wouldn't think doing something you love would require down time afterwards, but it's true. Just ask Sokphal (Congratulations on the 1:59 on your halfer in Toronto!). For me, it's just been post-boutique coming down. And because I've got one more half-day of sales, I really don't have any business relaxing yet, but there you go. Ironically, the best way for taking it easy after a big sale? Shopping. I've got a great jump-start on the Christmas gifts. Crazy, right? Let's just say yesterday was a really good day at T.J. Maxx (though a good number of those purchases were presents to myself-- globes, Boleslawiec, and a great Madame Alexander find).

Anyway, here are some things I thought about while in the bathtub this morning:

1. I love that all the music on my iPod was obtained legally.

2. I need to have some folks over. It'll motivate me to finish my Halloween decorations (I KNOW! Terrible!), plus it'll give me an opportunity to whip up the fancy green beans and butternut squash I bought yesterday.

3. I need to send letters to my friends Sarah and Katie.

4. Gotta do something nice for someone today... looking for a good opportunity.

5. Should I go back to Sweet Tomatoes before the Grilled Cheese Foccacia (it only happens twice a year!) is gone until March?

6. I hope I sell some stuff this weekend. Preferably enough to buy some pellets for my stove so I can heat the house this winter.

7. What kind of things would one DO at a circus party?

So as you can see, life is basically back to normal. It gives me comfort to see the rapid-fire, tangential way my mind works, even though I was proud of my laser-focus on the boutique.

OK. That's all for now.

EXCEPT: I bought an old clown cart yesterday. I don't know what I'm going to do with it, but I'm excited. Just thought I should explain rationale behind #7.

The Boho Babes Boutique: Year 2 in Review

2010-10-21T16:56:00.001-07:00

Did you want to know what I meant when I said I've been busy for the last couple of months?

Well, this should give you an idea. For Chad and Sokphal (and everyone else who prefers pictures), hope this satisfies the craving. For Reuben and Miriam, you'll finally get a look at the lingerie. Enjoy!

Ashley's Cupcakes

Aunt Trish's Scone Mix-- MMM!

Our Friend, Judy Willard, found lots of good things.

From the Christmas Room

Recipe Card Holders from Aunt Trish

Trish's Firestarters

How Skye spells Holiday Cheer

Halloween!

Aunt Sylvia's Brides and Grooms. She called these "Save the Last Dance for Me."

My own "Ghost" and T-Shirts. Trademark Pending (I'm not joking!)

Some of Sylvia's Skulls

One of Bonnie's gourd houses

Kris Steel's Skeletons

Bonnie's Old Cronies

Large Black Swan, Small Bright Swans, made by Yours Truly

Skye gets the credit for these little beauties.

And now, we head upstairs!

One of my famous flower mirrors-- a scaled-down version of the one I have hanging over my own fireplace mantle.

And let's not forget my lingerie!

Alphonse Mucha Frames

One of Ashley's beautiful necklaces

Cassidy's magnet boards

Skye's Children's Clothing

Aunt Melissa's Pillows

Thanks, everyone, for taking a look!

Why I Don't Work in Retail

2010-10-15T08:58:00.000-07:00

I greet you, my friends, only half-awake and hunched over in pain. No, I'm not ill. I'm just suffering the effects of the Boho Babes Boutique:2.
Yes, we're at that special time of year again when my mother and her friends all take their myriad art projects to the Sego Farm to sell. It's a great new tradition, but I'd simply forgotten how much work is actually involved. The months of creating are rewarding. I get a rush from planning the advertisements. I like that I get to be the cashier-- it makes me feel important, and I get to talk to everyone that way. But the set up, forget it!
Can you tell I'm a touch grumpy? I think it was because yesterday a bed frame fell over and knocked me in the calf. I didn't cuss, but I surely wanted to. I'd say I refrained because our nun friend, Sister Frances was there, but I'd heard her say "Holy Poo!" (but not poo, ya know) earlier. Let's chalk it up to my excellent self-control (and I never say the cussing poo word-- never have in my entire life). Anyway, it hurt like the devil, and I've got a nice gash and grapefruit-sized bruise for battle scars, but the worst was I couldn't really sleep last night. I'm a side-sleeper, and that just wouldn't do. When my alarm went off this morning, I found myself with my head at the foot of my bed, and crunched up into a weird position. I've not been able to completely straighten out yet. Looks like any money I make may go to Dr. Bender, the chiropractor.
No, no. Things really aren't all that bad. I'm actually just mentally exhausted. Yesterday, there were a dozen women at the farm, and each had their own ideas about how things should be set up. If you walked away for even a minute, you'd find that you're stuff had been displaced. There was a minor car accident when my sister-in-law ran into an over-sized planter (fortunately, it SOUNDED way worse than it actually was). I spent a good portion of my time keeping my nieces off the stairs. The dog next door came to visit, and I had to run it off. And SOMEONE (my mom, let's be honest) hadn't priced any of her merchandise, so that was a bit of an issue.
So, why do we do it, you ask?
Because the results are so worth it.
Because it brings people together.
Because it showcases talent.
Because it helps us all clean out our craft-closets.
Because it's a break from insulation.
I actually love it. But I think I'm gonna love it more Saturday night after it's all over with for another year.

"It's ALL about Me, All Year Long"

2010-10-07T14:45:00.000-07:00

At the beginning of the year, I purchased a desk calendar called "It's All About Me, All Year Long." On it, one is supposed to take their daily narcissism temperature by shading in mirrors in proportion to one's self-involvement. Additionally, there is an area to wax poetic about one's love for oneself, and a corner for a daily self-portrait. Best of all, there's a daily quote, tip, or fact of egotistical evidence to keep up one's confidence. I initially purchased this calendar as a joke, but it has provided countless facebook status updates meant to convince any of my "friends" that I really am a diva. It's amazing how many things Mohamed Ali was quoted as saying...
Anyway, I think the calendar has been good for me. It gives me a little laugh every day, and I've noticed that when it comes to confidence, faking it till you make it does a world of good. I've gone from assuming that anyone who asks me out would either a) be joking or b) stand me up to knowing that I'm just too hot to handle. Or something like it.
Anyway, the point is that as I've gotten older, I've learned that confidence is key in dealing with members of the opposite sex. Homely, confident men will win out every time over the decent-looking, shy boy. Girls may have a little too much junk-in-the-trunk, but as long as they own it, it's sexy, not slutty. Work what yo momma gave you, I always say. Once upon a time, I was highly offended when a boy we'll call Justin Old made a rude comment about my chestal region. I was mortified, and wore a long jacket all night over my beautiful burgundy Christmas dress. It wasn't until my Bishop told me "If you've got it, flaunt it" that I realized what a waste that had been.
And I'm not the only one who feels this way. Remember my friend "Raquel?" She told me about a recent facebook chat she had that left her reeling. Raquel recently re-connected with an old acquaintance named Willie. When she knew him (through a certain adventurous summer in the Motherland-- she was a student and he was a missionary) she was impressed with his intelligence and wit. She also admitted that she thought he was pretty cute, despite her shame of having a Beehive-type crush on Willie. Time marched on, and through the miracle of Facebook, Raquel started talking to Willie again. Years later, both Raquel and Willie are accomplished souls with much to recommend each of them to the opposite sex. And while Raquel usually likes being the center of attention, she likes the men in her life to have a commanding presence as well-- she needs someone who can add to her own spotlight, not lurk in the shadows. The conversation that sealed the deal for her fantasies of world-domination with an equal went as follows (Thanks Raquel-- you're a champ, as is Willie):

Willie: I have ladies after me because, as you said, I'm charming and good-looking and fun to be around. And also...
Raquel: Humble?
Willie: Because I just have this inexplicable aura of sexuality... I can't describe it, but it's there.

If that doesn't belong in the narcissism calendar, I don't know what does. But I don't know about you... it makes me want to steal Willie from Raquel, just a little bit. It sounds like we have a lot in common.

Freedom of Information

2010-09-30T17:01:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-21T09:15:00.001-07:00

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!

2010-09-14T10:23:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-09T17:29:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-07T10:08:00.000-07:00

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.

Greetings From Middle America

2010-08-29T15:21:00.000-07:00

So my mom and I DID end up going to Milwaukee for cousin's wedding. We've had an excellent trip, and I'd like to tell you everything about it, but it's still a bit of a blur. Normally I wouldn't blog from abroad, but I'm trying to kill 17 minutes to be able to do some online check-in. So here have been a few highlights from the trip:
* Seeing lots and lots of cousins, including some I've never met before (a picture of me with my cousin Vince Vaughn to follow when I get back to a scanner)
* Going to Mass. Twice. Haha! I asked Pam if that would get me off the hook for missing our church, and she said yes. Once was at St. Josephat's Basilica, which is where my great-grandparents and many aunts and uncles were married.
* Going to the cemetery and taking rubbings of the gravestones.
* Finding some wicked-cool things for the boutique at antique stores.
* Eating Kopp's frozen custard
* Eating Polish food! Woo hoo!
* Shopping at H&M. I know, I know. The last time I was in one was actually in Athens, and Summer, Jim and Julia probably wanted to kill me, but there aren't any around in NM. I heart H&M!!
* Receiving a surprise phone call from Louise this morning... FROM THE PHILLIP INES!

Anyway, it has been wonderful. My two sweet aunts, Sophie and Katie, are about the most wonderful ladies in the world, and we've driven all over. I'm pretty sure they'll be pretty relieved that they'll finally be able to rest after a busy long weekend.

So next, back to NM to see my long-lost Pam, and even longer-lost Josh (who will be getting lost again soon, unfortunately). Details to follow. Na razie!

Woo-hoo/Oh, Boo

2010-08-20T13:32:00.000-07:00

Like sands of the hourglass, here is today's list of pros and cons, points and counterpoints, and all that jazz:

HOORAY:
Myka brought over a big bag of plastic bottles for me to cut up.

HISS:
Not only was the dress I planned to order out of stock, but the mighty cool necklace was as well.

AWESOME:
I love Jason Bateman.

AWFUL:
I'd rather watch "Arrested Development" (AGAIN) than clean my house.

TWO THUMBS UP:
"The Whole Wide World," starring Vincent D'Onofrio and Renee Zellweger

I'D RATHER CUT OFF MY THUMBS:
Umm... actually, I really can't think of anything else legitimate to complain about. My "hiss" was the only real one, and it actually saves me money, right?

Bring on the weekend!

All About Steve OR, A Return to My Celebrity Gossip Days

2010-08-17T14:59:00.000-07:00

You guys have heard me talk about my friend Stephen Petty before, right? Steve is one of the most amazing men I know-- he's handsome and kind, smart and ambitious. We met our freshman year at BYU, and I thought he was the cutest guy ever. We actually didn't talk until one night after a group of mutual friends all went to see a Comedy Sportz show at the old Wrapsody or whatever it was called at the time (all Eddie McClelland fans have fond memories of this place, which was later Muse Music). I noticed he touched his belt all the time. I remember one of the first things I ever heard him say was that when he got married, he only wanted his wife to pack a bikini and nothing else for the honeymoon.
Well, our schooling went on. We had a Book of Mormon class together and studied for Brother Johnson's super-easy tests. We exchanged a couple letters while he was on his mission-- Venezuela, Caracas, if I remember correctly. When he got back, he'd drop in for a few parties at my house, and occasionally we'd hit a play. I actually remember that we went to see a terribly boring opera together, and he complained the whole time.
One of the sweetest things Petty ever did for me was take me to BYU Homecoming my senior year. I'd never been asked, and my fairy godmother (aka our friend Hilary) told him. I'd gone to bed early and my roommate Vanessa knocked on my door. I think I yelled, "I'm asleep," but she told me to open the door and then threw a paper airplane at me that read "Will you go to homecoming with me?" in addition to having some tears and scribbles related to some homework he'd been doing. He took me out to the nicest dinner, we danced at the beautiful Union Station, and he told me about how he hated the thought of socialized medicine (did I mention that today he is an oral surgeon?). It was a most entertaining evening, and a picture of the two of us still graces the bar between my kitchen and living room. Petty is a super friend.
Even years later, we still cared about what was going on in one another's lives. Back before we grew up and got really busy, we'd call every few weeks. My favorite was that he'd often just call and say "I love you, and just wanted you to know." Those calls always came at the best times.
But if you think this post is going to be all sentimental, you are wrong, because at this precise moment, I'm really having a (good-natured) laugh at his expense.
So back when I worked for Excel, I managed to get the world's worst film ("Down and Derby") a spot on the Today Show. That's right, I'm the PR queen. Knowing my love for Matt Lauer and needing someone there for quality control, my boss sent me to babysit the exec who was to appear on the 30-second spot. It was right before Christmas, and I was to be in NYC for less than 24 hours, but I'd arranged to meet up with Steve for dinner in the city.
We had a great time, ate at this really hip place, and just enjoyed ourselves immensely as we caught up. And he said the weirdest thing:

Steve: So it's too bad you didn't fly in last night. I would have taken you to the movies with me.
Rachel: And why would I go all the way to New York to see a movie I could see in Salt Lake?
Steve: Because it was "Batman Begins," and I went with Rachael McAdams.
Rachel: Oh, Petty, what kind of fool do you take me for? I know she's dating Ryan Gosling.
Steve: Well, that's how I know her. Through Ryan. He went too.

So apparently, Ryan and Steve met through their sisters, and then got to be friends rebuilding a Buddhist temple in Louisiana after Hurricane Katrina (believe me, Steve does this kind of stuff all the time-- like when he trekked through India to perform minor surgeries in villages over a summer off). Still, I couldn't help but laugh a bit about the friendship. It seemed like such a weird thing to talk about. But I'm happy to report that while Steve and I don't hang out like we used to, he and Ryan are still buddies.
I don't hear from Steve very much anymore (again, he REALLY is a busy, busy man), but occasionally we talk. He called sometime between our birthdays back in May. I jokingly asked him how Ryan was.

Steve: Oh, he's fine. But I'm a little mad, because the paparazzi took a picture of us together the other day. We'd just been to the gym. Ryan took a shower, but we were just going to Home Depot afterwards, so I didn't bother. And I LOOKED LIKE CRAP!

Anyway, don't ask me why I thought this was the funniest story ever, or even what possessed me to do a quick Google Image Search today, but I'm glad I did.
Steve Petty, wherever you're jet-setting off to today, I want you to know that I love you and think you look adorable in your Columbia shorts. I know I'm in big trouble, but call me!

Stuff to be Happy About

2010-08-16T10:11:00.000-07:00

1. Little Jake is engaged. He is crazy, but I love him, and I'm so happy for him and can't wait to get to know Hilari better.
2. My mom bought an antique dress form a couple of weeks ago, and she put her wedding dress on it. It's in the guest room (aka my old bedroom) and I love walking in there just to look at it in all its 1970s glory.
3. I rediscovered the joy of painted fingernails this weekend. Right now mine are kind of an iridescent red-pink. They look very 1940s, and I love them. They may stay this color for a while.
4. I saw two very lame movies this weekend whilst working on the lingerie (only 10 more pieces to go, thank goodness-- that is, until I get up the gumption for another round... it's all turning out pretty well). One was "Henry Poole is Here" and the other was "Picture This." Luke Wilson just rubs his face in his hands a lot in the former, and thinking an Ashley Tisdale flick would be worth the Netflix space in the case of the latter was completely my fault. I'm just biding my time till "Gossip Girl Season 3" releases.
5. Went dancing Friday. It was such a pleasure to dance with folks who are good at it!
6. My great pal Daniel Hall was baptized last night, and it was incredible.
7. Sokphal is back in the country! I'm stoked. Lou is about to leave the country! I'm also stoked (but not because I wanna get rid of Lou-- I'm just happy for her to start her Peace Corps engagement).
8. Pam will be back in just a couple of weeks, which is an immense relief. The other night, I kept waking up and saying "I just don't have any friends." Obviously, this isn't true, but life will be way better when Pammy is back to shop with me.

In Love

2010-08-09T10:11:00.001-07:00

Today I am in love with life. I think that explains why I've been having such a hard time concentrating on paperwork. I've got all the symptoms of twitterpation, but no one man to focus it on. Evidence: I can't sleep. I find myself day-dreaming. I float around, singing show-tunes. I know. Should have left it at day-dreaming.
It's just that I have such a fun life! Creating makes me so happy. This weekend, I made Parisian Macarons, which were a ton of trouble, but so delicious. I couldn't believe they turned out, but they're awesome! I won't likely be making them again anytime VERY soon, grant you, but I'm so glad I found success with these intimidating little cookies.
Also, the lingerie is coming along. I've got some good embellishment ideas I'm anxious to try... as soon as I get moment. I have to laugh-- my living room looks like a brothel closet right now, with silky slips slung over anything that will stand still.
But back to work. The sooner I get all the stuff I HAVE to do finished, the sooner I can get back to my true love-- creation!

If You Can't Sleep

2010-08-07T08:27:00.000-07:00

I am a sympathetic person.

Last night I talked to my friend Josh on the phone, about midnight his time. He's been suffering from insomnia. I didn't know it was contagious, and I didn't know you could contract over cell-phone, but I did.

So last night while I tossed and turned, tried sleeping on the couch, tried sleeping in my chair, and ended up sleeping upside down on my bed (don't ask me why this helped-- it still took a lot of time, and I ended up drawing all over myself with a pen out of boredom... I had some nice blue tats on my feet this morning, pre-shower), I started thinking about things that make me happy. There are just so many wonderful things in life one forgets about, getting caught up in the every-day rigmarole. So, I thought I'd share part of my list:

* My freshman year at the Brigham, I lived in the dorms, and there was a tunnel leading to Helaman Halls. One day, the rain poured down and filled the tunnel with about two and a half feet of water. As I approached, there was a group of boys shuttling girls two and fro via piggyback. At first I declined the offer for a "ride," but one of the boys scooped me up, and delivered me safe and dry to the other side. It was such a funny and small thing, but it still brings a smile to my face.

* One of my favorite trips of all time was going to Prague with Andrew. By the way, did I mention he's engaged? I'm SO happy for him. In case you've been living in a cave, Andrew is a boy I've hero-worshipped for about seven years now. I've always positively loved him, but in a he's-at-the-top-of-a-pedestal way. I think he's the coolest. So my second summer in Poland, we did a lot of fun things together. We shared nalesniki at a great cafe in Lublin. He let me give him a mud-mask (as did all the other people in our group). We'd sit out on my balcony for hours, not really talking, but just being there, while I'd contemplate how my carefree days were slipping away, but I just really savored it. Anyway, we took a weekend trip to Prague, and I remember having dinner with him outside the Palac Nauki i Kultury in Warsaw. The Poles hate the building, a "gift" from the Russians. But we sat in its shadows, eating bread and fruit and drinking juice, waiting for our train to Prague.

While in Prague, we walked across the Charles Bridge a dozen times, and talked about the weirdest things. While we were at breakfast each day at our hotel, I'd speculate that the other people around us assumed we were married, and I loved it.

* Sometimes I think about my old neighbor, Peter McKellar. I'd go over to his apartment and we'd play 'Round the World Ping-Pong, and then he'd sit us down and read to us from his favorite book, "Letters from a Nut." Peter could barely breathe, he'd laugh so hard. I loved laughing with our friends.

* One of the best things to ever happen at my apartment was watching my friends Nate and Kari right after Nate got back from his mission. We'd all gone to our friend Eddie's concert, and Sean bought us ice cream because he'd finally kissed his girlfriend Heather. I watched N & K sit shyly next to my Christmas tree as Kari played Sarah Mclachlan's "Song for a Winter's Night" over and over again on my stereo. I still think of them (and now their two daughters!) every time I hear that song.

* Speaking of Christmas lights, sometimes I look back to the evenings looking out my dorm-room window, watching the snow fall softly in the glow of the colored lights Brittany and I strung for a little pre-finals festivity. I loved to watch the lights and the snow as my friend Eric Otto and I talked on the phone late into the night.

* Speaking of Sean (up a paragraph or two), sometimes I just think about us grocery shopping together. I love Sean McKissick and always will (in a completely appropriate way). Sometimes I marvel that if I'd not been friends with his girlfriend Heather, I might not have ever had my college bestie.

* Speaking of best friends, sometimes I think about Sokphal, and the moment I knew she'd be my friend for life. It had been a snowy day, and I'd walked carefully up to campus, avoiding the ice. Our professor was snowed in on the mountain where he lived and couldn't make it to class, so a group of us decided to walk to the library. I manage the trip and fall head over heels on the only DRY spot of ground I'd encountered that day. Sokphal laughed and laughed. And I laughed too.

Surely there is more, but now I'm off to shop with Jetaya. It'll remind me of shopping with Pam, my No. 1 enabler. I love shopping with my girls. Like the time Vanessa and I went to Target after we'd both had the crappiest of days. Oh, I have a good life! And great friends. So I'm almost glad I didn't sleep so I could think about them last night.

PS. Another one of my all-time best nights was drinking sparkling cider with Josh in a vacant field on New Year's Eve. I love him and am thankful for him too!

Thoughts from the Office on a Friday Night

2010-08-06T16:58:00.001-07:00

It's hot in my little office tonight, as it often is in the summer. It's the one room in my parents' house that never cools off and never warms up in the winter. It's 6 p.m., and I sit here typing because... well, honestly, because my brain misfired today, and I found myself not getting anything done! And so, as I wait for one of my friends to fly in from Germany (I'm picking her up from the airport, but her flight is rather delayed), I half-heartedly invoice to make up for all the wasted time, but my head's still not in it. Hence...
Here are some things I've been thinking about today:

* If I'd not been friends with Heather D. in the newsroom, I might have never become acquainted with my college best friend, who was her boyfriend, briefly (Black-widow theorists, calm yourselves-- I had nothing to do with the breakup).
* I really need to go to Hobby Lobby to buy some more Kelly Green RIT for the slips I dyed last night that turned out spotty.
* Should I really try to overcome the crowds and shop the tax-free weekend? And with what money?
* I need an Rx refill (I heart you, birth control!) but I don't want to go to Wal-Mart.
* Will I get Tresann and Justin their baby gift before little Miss Ellie Mae, born today, outgrows it? (Please note, my birth-control comment is not related to the Dawson baby. I love babies, and my skin loves Tri-Sprintec.)
* It's a bit of a shame that I didn't get to see my sister's orange hair before she fixed it.

Now, admit it-- wouldn't you find such thoughts interesting enough to distract from paperwork?

A Comedy of Errors-- Otherwise Known as My Life

2010-08-02T15:06:00.000-07:00

So one of my distant cousins is getting married this month. I planned to go. I invited my aunt to come along, but she couldn't make it. My dad offered to go, but then decided my mother should come with me because she's the actual blood relative. My sister shilly-shallied about whether she could make it or not (technically, she's never committed one way or the other, but I figured I'd just book the flights without her and she could join up later if she decided to ever you-know-what or get off the pot). But today, my mom said, "Oh, maybe we should just go to Wisconsin some other time." Since the bride needed an accurate head count for the caterers, I sent her a facebook message telling her we couldn't make it (there were actually logistical reasons for our regrets-- not just because we suddenly decided to not go). But then my dad gave my mom a guilt trip, so she said she would. I told her I already felt like a nincompoop telling cousin Chelsea I'd make it, but then backing out, so I didn't want to change our minds again. Then I realized I'd been looking at the wrong date anyway. The long and the short of it is I won't be seeing Milwaukee anytime soon. Boo!
But the mishaps don't end there. I'm always getting in a pickle when it comes to communication in general. In the case of my family, it wasn't quite enough solid information being passed back and forth. Yesterday, I got myself in a mire because of too much communication. My friend Rudy is in charge of FHE, and I sent him a text to find out what was going down for this week's activity. It wasn't mere curiosity that motivated my call-- oh, no! I planned to invite a friend to come along, and wanted to be able to impart accurate information during a later phone call. Rudy, unfortunately, was sick, and had yet to plan an activity. My automatic (and sincere) response to hearing he was under the weather?? "Oh, is there anything you need?" What can I say? It's the Relief Society President in me. He texted back, "no, I'm ok." That would have been fine, but another text came in moments later reading, "Could you plan FHE?" And what could I say but yes, because I'd dug that pit myself. Well, no bother, I thought. I'll just have my friend help me with the activity. But guess who has to work tonight? If you guessed me, you're actually wrong (though I should be), but if you had the foresight to understand how ironic my life is, you'd guess the boy I invited. Boo again!
Of course, not all my life is this back-and-forth of confusion. Some of it is just plain funny. My favorite quotation this weekend: Daniella saying, "Can I just judge righteously for a moment?" It was fantastic! Maybe that should be my new catch-phrase. Love ya, D!
Anyway, I'm off to try to come up with a good activity. I hope I wasn't supposed to provide refreshments. Oh no! It's just a matter of time before all the FHE kids start judging ME (righteously, of course).

Red Rubber Ball

2010-07-30T08:19:00.000-07:00

And... it's Friday! Hallelujah! But where did my week go? I'll tell you.
Monday-- Blood Donation=7 minutes. I'm awesome. Mr. Handsome cancels FHE appearance, but Clint treats with a Frosty and a ride in his swampy truck. It's good to have him back.
Tuesday-- Great finds at Savers! The lingerie line continues to grow. Dinner with a very negative chap. Poor little peanut!
Wednesday-- 13 hours taking care of the nieces, and too, too much paperwork.
Thursday-- Ice cream with Little Joe the Wrangler. I tried Baskin Robbins' new grapefruit sorbet. Joseph makes good on his date promise and becomes #106. More importantly, I started a new blog, http://www.bohobabesboutique.blogspot.com/, to promote this October's show. It's gonna be awesome! Follow for information on when and where, plus get previews of what will be for sale. Ooops! Now I'm all commercial.
On tap for today-- finishing paperwork, painting more bottle flowers, printing the boutique postcards, hanging out with Pammy who will be gone for a month (BOO!), etc. This weekend will include housekeeping, ridding my yard of noxious weeds (I hope), finishing some Halloween shirts for the boutique, and possibly painting a bed. Can you tell I'm in full-boutique swing? I guess I'll be able to rest in mid-October. I love this time of year!

And... I'm back

2010-07-26T07:32:00.000-07:00

Here are this morning's thoughts from the trenches:

* Mentioning that I'm back from the family reunion would not be complete without a couple of Zoey stories. She decided early on that she wanted to sleep in "Aunt Rachy's Bed." She is so sweet, and my brother and sis-in-law are a little cramped in their room, so it was OK, but I was reminded of how it's going to be a big change when I someday share a bed with a husband. Let's just hope my husband doesn't take up all the room (quite a feat for someone about half my height) and kick me all night. The first night, Z woke up and said she wanted her milk. I handed her the sippy cup from the bedside table and she said she wanted more. The cup was about a quarter full, but she insisted. So at 2:30 a.m., I stumbled to the kitchen, was blinded by the refrigerator light, and found some milk for a top-off. It was some Skye had packed in a Nalgene bottle-- probably some she was trying to use up before it went bad. I brought it back to Little Z, but she informed me she wanted NEW milk. I'm not gonna lie, I wouldn't blame her. I don't think it was bad but it was just at that point... you know what I'm talkin' about. So it was back to the kitchen to wash out the sippy cup and give her the NEW milk. When I got back to my room, she took about one swig and then said "Put it on the table" (I guess "please" isn't in her vocabulary circa: middle of the night) and promptly fell asleep. Honestly, little kids are so funny! I couldn't even get mad. The next night, she asked me to tell her a story. I don't think I really know any, so I told her about Egypt. She wanted to know what the princesses looked like, so I stretched the truth a little bit and told her to imagine Jasmine from Disney's "Aladdin." I told her that people in Egypt have beautiful brown skin. She then insisted that SHE wanted beautiful brown skin. I guess I'll have a prime suspect if suddenly my instant tanning cream goes missing. She also mentioned that she wants a baby brother and wants to name him "Chester." I didn't know she even knew anyone named Chester. We had to sleep with her Hello Kitty Purse, a plastic tomato and a deflating punching balloon. So on the whole, I didn't get a lot of sleep this weekend, but I got a slumber party fix.

* As for further explanation regarding my new lingerie hobby, I don't really know where it came from. You know that old cliche, "Those who can't______ teach"? I think it usually refers to performing arts. So I guess in my case, it would be "Those who can't ____..." (blank for a different reason) "...make stuff for other people to wear when they do." I doubt I'll be the next Victoria, but I'm hoping I can sell some of my wares at the Boho Babes Boutique. I don't know if there is a market for negligees at a craft boutique, but we will see.

* Finally this morning, and on a more serious note, I'd like to say I'm really grateful the way God prepares our hearts for whatever is coming down the pipeline-- if we let Him, that is. Trials that I wouldn't have thought I could face several weeks ago aren't even a big deal today. And, I really believe if we would just follow His will for us, we'd end up with better things than we could have chosen for ourselves. I could give lots of examples, but why don't y'all just think about that and tell me that I'm right? Good. Do that.

And Now for Something Completely Different

2010-07-25T17:11:00.000-07:00

I went to the family reunion this weekend, and I was inspired.
For the last few weeks, I've started stressing over "Boho Babes Boutique:2" and not knowing what kind of stuff to sell.
And then, surrounded by family in the beautiful mountains of Colorado, I was inspired.
And that's how I started making lingerie.

The Grenade that Didn't Go Off

2010-07-19T08:23:00.000-07:00

So the weekend was just a drill, I suppose.
Ex-boyfriend did not show up.
Exhale.
Mr. Handsome also didn't show up.
Sigh.
All that preparation for nothing?
Still, there was good news.
An E. Coli outbreak in Socorro. Which meant no one could drink the tap water. Which meant there was a lot of bottled water happening. Which meant I walked around all day Saturday carrying a giant black trash bag and collecting people's plastic. Oh, recycling, how I love you! And it doesn't hurt that I was able to make about 95 flowers out of all my plastic, expediting Ashley's birthday present of a flowered salon mirror like the one over my mantle. I've got to break out the spray paint tonight. I'll take sore trigger finger (from the paint and the glue-gun) over emotional explosion any day.

This is Only a Test

2010-07-16T09:38:00.000-07:00

OK. Deep breath.
In a mere nine hours or so, I've got to face a demon.
Not that the person I will see is a demon, but seeing him may be tough.
Here's the story. Picture it-- Monday night, hanging out with the girls. I should have gone home to get some sleep or read or do laundry, but I was too busy admiring my friends' Warhol-inspired refrigerator art (for FHE we colored pictures of President Monson for Kindergarten Night, and it was amazing how many people put him in a pink suit). I basked in the delight of chatting it up with two of my besties (shout-out to Pam and Daniela!), and laughing as they commanded poor Jeremy to dance (which he did not do, despite their bullying). All in all, it was a typical Monday evening. Until terror struck.
We were discussing our plans for the weekend-- a regional young single adult conference-- when Pam (who is in charge) broke the news. She said at least 13 people from Las Cruces are coming. I asked if there was anyone I knew, thinking maybe she'd say Kimball, a boy I once saw in the temple. She didn't mention Kimball, but did say that my ex-boyfriend will be there. And then I couldn't breathe.
Yes, I know what you're thinking... "isn't that the one she posted about just a few days ago?" Why, yes it is. "And didn't their relationship end 19 months ago?" Yes. "She isn't over it yet?" Apparently not.
Talking about you-know-who is all very well and good in theory. I have no problem discussing him in an abstract, nostalgic way. But remember when I ran into him and his girlfriend at Papers! this January? On Monday I was ready to throw in the towel and make plans to leave the country for the weekend to avoid the YSA Conference. Poor Pam! She is the greatest friend ever, and she did do me a major service by letting me know in advance so I didn't faint at the dance tonight, but it probably didn't make her feel too good to see my deer-in-headlights face.
The good news is, I think I'm ok, and I can still participate in the activity. Pam and Daniela got a kick out of my written plan of action I read to them the next night, after shopping for cute clothes (because I sure as heckfire am not gonna show up to this shindig looking like a Tusker). After crying-- no, that doesn't begin to do it justice; more like making this weird, hiccuping and honking noise-- all the way home Monday night, I started thinking that maybe I could handle it.
I will spare you the details of the written plan, because they make me sound like an absolute nincompoop (I know this because Daniela found it particularly entertaining), but I'm just gonna go through with it. Trial by fire, right?
Also on tap for the weekend is getting to know Mr. Handsome without acting like a weirdo. Daniela gave me PLENTY of tips on that as well. "Do your hair like this." "Make sure you DON'T do that." I've got so much to remember, I'd better make another list. I just need to make sure that I don't get them mixed up, and end up batting my eyes at the ex, and running and hiding from Mr. Handsome. I may just need to dance by myself in a corner with my eyes closed and pretend like no one else is there. It kind of defeats the purpose of going to an activity where one of the prime aims is to meet people, but you gotta do what you gotta do.
Report to follow. Pray for victory, no carnage.

What I Do When I Should be Working

2010-07-15T14:41:00.000-07:00

Listen, I love insulation.
Fiberglass is fun and Cellulose is splendid.
And now I'm likely going to spend a lot of time working and staying late to get everything done.
Why?
Because I've been daydreaming.
Some of it is pondering life's important questions like, "I wonder what ever happened to K-Ci and JoJo? 'All my Life' was such a good song.'" Part of the time I spent in the massage chair in my office (I don't know who thought it was such a good idea to put it in here, but after yesterday's long day with the nieces, I needed 15 minutes of peace and quiet. And then another 15 minutes. And, then (shh!) another). What's more, after taking a delivery of some wire rods at the warehouse, I snuck home to snap a few pictures of my house for a contest to have your house decorated and photographed by MATTHEW MEAD. Love, love his work. Don't know if my humble abode has a prayer, but it's worth a try, right?
Anyway, you'll have to excuse me. I'm listening to Maroon 5's new single and I should probably actually finish the 24 bids I need to send out in the next hour and 15 minutes. Oops!

Friends in High and Low Places

2010-07-13T12:52:00.000-07:00

Ready for something inappropriate?
So a couple weeks ago, my cousin's sons went to visit our Aunt. These little guys are both super smart, and sometimes they say the most outrageous things. Especially the little one. He's pretty doggone cute, but I don't know where he comes up with a lot of it.
Our favorite story: Sylvia took Dylan and Collin to Carlsbad to explore the Caverns. Sylvia said she'd been complaining a bit about how her body ached-- I think it was her foot at the time. Collin decided to give his two cents and said, "Well, that's what happens when you get older. Things just start to fall apart."
One must wonder what things HE'D have experience with... I think he's about 8 years old.
"There's just one body part that never wears out," he went on to explain.
Sylvia waited patiently to find out, but he wasn't immediately forthcoming.
"Well, what never wears out?" she finally asked.
And he said, "The testicles."
!!!
So last night I was talking to Jake who is off in Gallup for his B.A.M.D. program, and I told him this story (we were talking about prostates, oddly enough). Jacob loves potty humor as much as the next boy, so he told me that someday he'd be glad to give my future husband a prescription for Viagra. Kind, right? Then I told Pam, who is studying pharmacy, and she said she'd fill the Rx for me. Hahaha! I think my friends think I'm going to marry a really old man. I guess that's OK so long as he's really, really rich.
Just kidding!

Happy Anniversary!!

2010-07-12T08:07:00.000-07:00

Well, my friends, I've been back in New Mexico for FOUR years, and I've gotta say, I'm pretty happy about that. My life is pretty awesome. Here are some things that make life in NM really great (and please, don't get argumentative and say some of those things are universal-- even if they are, they're better in NM):

* I go barefoot at work. Where else could I do this? That is a major advantage to having one's office in her childhood bedroom.
* I can embrace my inner gangsta and rap all the time. Much to Rudy's surprise, I confessed yesterday that I have a certain weakness for Salt-n-Peppa's "Shoop." Watch for me at your next karaoke event.
* Being near the family is basically awesome. On Friday, I hung out with my sister and brother-in-law at their palatial estate (otherwise known as a tract home, given the old Sego charm by my very creative sister) in Rio Rancho. We ate clown cones from Baskin Robbins. (I don't really care about ice cream, but I love clown cones more than anything. And here's a hint-- they're better from the B&R at Cottonwood than they are in Los Lunas.) On Sunday I spent some good quality time with my brother and sister-in-law and their charming children. Paizlee is learning to walk, and even though Zoey is super naughty, I can't imagine my life without her.

There's more, of course, but Gerri has been complaining that I don't blog enough, so I'm gonna spread it out.

I will share one other true anniversary story, though, for your reading pleasure. When I thought about this the other day, I laughed out loud for about five minutes straight. As most of you know, I've only ever had ONE official boyfriend. We had gone out a lot and had been kissing just as much, and decided to make our relationship official on July 11, two years ago. As we discussed the implications of exclusivity, he announced that I was obligated to come over and have dinner with his family the next day. I'd already met them, but he told me he needed to introduce me in my official capacity. He said he'd tell them over breakfast the next day that I was his girlfriend, and suggested I do the same with my family. I was 100 percent embarrassed, but I charged on through, determined to get the teasing over with. When I met up with him at his parents' house later, he said he'd not had time to tell them yet. I walked in, said hello to his mother, met his sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew, and then he blurted out "RACHEL SEGO IS MY GIRLFRIEND!!" I then was passed around again to be hugged and congratulated. You'd think this sweet little episode would be worth celebrating on its own, but my favorite July 12 memory of that day was when my boyfriend's dad was blessing the food and asked a blessing on everyone, but he couldn't remember my name! It went "... and please bless Elliot and Maggie and Margaret Ann and Ron and Wendy and Holly and Chrissy and Becky and Loni and Ray and... (Super long pause)... Ray's, erm, friend... Amen!" Well, of course I didn't mind, but everyone gave boyfriend's papa a very hard time. He tried to make it up to me by being extra kind for the rest of the evening, until I left when boyfriend had to dismiss him. We were walking out toward my car when boyfriend said, "Dad. I want to kiss my girlfriend goodbye, and I can't do it with you standing here." Hahaha! I doubt very much he remembers his July 12, but I'm pretty sure he remembers my name!

One final shout-out-- though he was born last night and not actually on the 12th, I do want to let everyone know that my college bestie and his wife, Sean and Rachel McKissick, welcomed their baby boy into the world! The text I got from Sean? "Dean Gerald McKissick is out, and he's a big, hairy baby. Everybody's doing great." Leave it to someone who loves WWE to announce his son's birth that way. Still, congrats to Sean and Rachel, who continue to make my life wonderful even from hundreds of miles away!

Smoking Candy Cigarettes

2010-07-06T09:13:00.000-07:00

Things You May Not Know About Me:
1) In fifth grade, I had the elected position in my homeroom class of prosecuting attorney. When students had grievances, they could sue one another. I won every case.
2) Sometimes I like to pull out candy cigarettes and pretend to smoke, particularly when I'm on the phone with someone from church (in case you didn't know, we Mormons don't smoke, so I find this highly amusing). I think I picked up the pretend-smoking habit from my friend Summer, who used to "smoke" her pens.
3) Even after ending my month-long vegetarian streak, I still have not had red meat. It's not that I don't mean to-- I just haven't found anything to eat that seems worthy. So it's been 5 weeks.
4) When I get really angry, I get creative. When someone asks me how I managed to get the worst movie ever ("Down and Derby") on the Today Show, the simple explanation is I was mad at my coworkers. You know that great-looking mirror over my mantle? Finished it while I was on the outs with one of my friends.
5) I met the world's best-looking guy this weekend. Just wanted to let you know.

I guess if my life were a chick-flick...

2010-06-29T14:38:00.000-07:00

So here's today's funny story:

This afternoon as I worked on updating employee time cards and making the company deposit, I received a phone call from my sweet Sister-in-Law, Skye. I assumed we'd be discussing how soon we could go see "Eclipse." I considered the possibility that she might need me to watch the nieces. Because she was at work, it was possible she needed me to look up a phone number. But that was not the reason behind her call.

"Are you getting married in 11 months?"

Well, not that I know of.

What happened is this:

This morning, like most any weekday morning, I checked the facebook feed to see what was going on in the world and in my friends' lives in the last 12 hours. Most of it is insignificant, but you never quite know when someone is going to say something interesting. The big oops is when it's you, and you didn't mean for it to be.

As I scrolled along, I happened upon a picture of one of my college chums, Eric Christensen. This is not the picture, but I did pilfer this one from his page.

Handsome, no? As my avid readers know, I've talked about Eric and his best friend, Eric Otto, before. Also, many may recall that once Eric C. joked that we ought to get married around our 30th birthdays (he's two days older than I am), and so it gets brought up from time to time. Including today, when I said something to Eric Otto about it. And that's when my friend Cara saw it on HER news feed, and called Skye to get the dirt. Poor Skye said she THOUGHT I'd tell her if I were engaged before spilling the news on facebook, so I assured her I would.

I guess I didn't think anyone would take that seriously, especially considering I didn't have a changed relationship status and hadn't created a "Hell's frozen over and Rachel and So-and-So Are Tying the Knot so please join our group so we can send you invitations, which really means so you can send us presents" group. One would also think my reference in a later status update to my best friend Jake in a speedo would cast some doubt on the validity of my relationship with Eric (or Eric, for that matter).

So for the record, no wedding bells yet. Though the truth is I'd be happy to marry Eric Christensen, and I actually think he'd look much better in a speedo than Jacob would.

Then and Again + Antiques and Festivals

2010-06-28T11:19:00.001-07:00

This weekend was a great one to be in New Mexico. If you were in Central NM, where I live, I hope you made it to a) the Lavender Festival and b) the 4th St. Antique Stores and their big 20% off sales!
I look forward to the Lavender Festival every year, and the coolest thing I picked up this year was a lotion bar-- looks like a bar of soap, but it's really solid lotion. Ingenious! Also, loved having lavender in great food, dried lavender for decorations, and the cool little finds out in the booths.
The festival was smaller this year, and there was a decided missing presence from the normal antique stores, but you know it would be a ton of work maintaining two spaces at once! Instead, some of my favorite antique haunts banded together for a great, great sale! Not only was the regular merchandise available at a discount, but many shops (notably Legacy Antiques and Vintage & More) brought in local artists to sell their wares. The Antique Co-op had the best refreshments, and you really miss the boat if you go to the North Valley and don't stop in for some inspiration at Cabin & Cottage.
One of the biggest highlights of my day was running into the very talented Carol Van Den Avyle-- Weems enthusiasts would certainly recognize her work! Guess what everyone-- Carol checks this blog!!! Amazing, right? I'm super honored. What's more, Carol and her friend Len Estill recently visited my famous Aunt Sylvia in Artesia, and took a trip to Carlsbad to see the beautiful Debra Mendoza and her new shop, Then and Again. Carol was kind enough to send me these pictures of the shop, which I hope will inspire you to take a little jaunt to Carlsbad. Check out the Caverns, of course, but this store is reason enough to go to C-Bad!

Isn't Debra the cutest woman you've ever seen? This picture doesn't begin to do her justice, but she is one of the nicest people I've ever met, and beautiful to boot!

Sylvia's booth-- I love my aunt!

Jane Paul's booth-- her wreath is made out of book pages, and I've been coveting it for some time.

Seriously, don't you just wanna jump in the car and go? Do it. And let me know when you do, because I want to come with you!

Vegetarianism, Day 25

2010-06-25T14:56:00.000-07:00

Today I had the best meal I think I've had all month-- cheese enchiladas, beans and rice from Teofilos. Ahh. It was so good I didn't have to envy my mom as she tucked into her beef tacos, though my mouth waters now as I think about them.
Tomorrow morning, bright and early, I'm going to the Lavender Festival, which includes a nice little farmer's market. Lavender lemonade and heirloom tomatoes should get me through the home-stretch of my month-long experiment.
This afternoon was the first time I started thinking about some of the things I'll want to cook when I'm back to my (moderate) carnivorous ways. Surprisingly, I'm mostly craving another dish of Claire's garlic pasta with mushrooms (which I normally hate, but these were adorable and delectable) and bay scallops. You'd think I'd be craving red meat, but I'm really anxious to try my hand at this incredible dish. Claire made it for my birthday, and at the time it tasted like the best meal I'd ever had.
Another thing I'm looking forward to? Roasted vegetable soup. I suppose I could make it with vegetable broth instead of chicken stock, but I'm just gonna wait it out.
But for now, I'm too busy to think about any of that. I've got glittered swans to finish and glassine bags to emboss. Tonight I'm off to find a pattern for my Sound of Music skirt, and to hang with the Friday Nighters at Main Street Muscle and Fitness. Kinda sounds like I need a life, no?

A few minutes of brutal honesty

2010-06-23T09:48:00.000-07:00

No one likes a Debbie Downer, but I have to do some confessing, or I might just go crazy.
I'm sad/mad/exhausted with life today. Here are some of the reasons why:
* Pay cut= do more work with less appreciation and more criticism for less money. I really hate that. Say goodbye to vacation plans, say goodbye to anything fun. Paying bills is gonna be a challenge. I guess I should just be happy I have a job, but I positively hate it at this precise moment (10:51 a.m., Mountain Daylight Time).
* My crazy body= It hurts all the time, but not in a good way that comes from working out, because I haven't slept well in weeks, and I haven't gone to the gym since last Wednesday. I'm making myself go tonight. My skin is terrible, and I look awful in my clothes. I am tempted to shave my head because my hair is just a disaster. And because I can't afford to go anywhere, it really wouldn't matter if I were bald.
* My family thinking I'm a failure for not being married. Pretty self-explanatory. I'm ok with being single, but it would be much easier if my family didn't talk about it ALL the time.
Can I just crawl into a hole for a little bit until this all blows over?

Best Zoey Story Yet AND How I'm Living the Technicolor Dream

2010-06-21T14:38:00.001-07:00

Two nice bits from the weekend--
First, I unfortunately wasn't there to witness this firsthand, but here's another reason I love my funny, funny niece: My parents, brother, and brother's family went to a wedding this weekend in Colorado Springs. Jealous! Love that town! Anyway, the groom was one of my brother's best childhood friends, and the groom's mother is still one of my mother's closest pals. One of the groom's nieces, a darling seven-year-old named Ashlynn, became Zoey's newest heroine, and Z followed Ashlynn around without a break. At one point, they were near my family's table and Ashlynn said she was seven. Zoey immediately piped up and said, "I'm six," to which her mother laughed and said, "No you're not, you're only two!" Apparently Zoey got really mad that her mother outed her as Ashlynn said, "I thought she was a little small for six." HAHAHAHA! Oh, how I wish I could have been there for that one!
Second, this weekend I procured some very nice old drapes. And now, even though I can't sew, I plan to revamp my wardrobe, a la Maria Von Trap and Scarlett O'Hara. I'll let you know how it goes, but I think I'm going to look smashing in my very own drape dress... er, skirt. Yeah, how hard can a skirt be anyway?

Vegetarianism, Day 18

2010-06-18T11:24:00.000-07:00

In case you were wondering, yes, I'm holding out and staying strong on the vegetarian front.
I had a doctor's appointment yesterday, and I'm not sure he was super-impressed with me giving up meat, but I am. This thing is harder than it looks!
I feel a little guilty only doing it for a month, though. I was talking to my friend Brennan the other day and he suggested I might really like it so much that it would be a permanent change. I don't know why, but I felt terrible telling him I didn't think so. I might just give up meat on the weekdays. Hmm... something to ponder as I eat my salad for lunch today.

My Curious Encounter with Benjamin Button

2010-06-14T11:05:00.000-07:00

There's this boy I know. We're not really friends. I admire him greatly, and wish we were, but it seems really impossible. Maybe someday I'll get up the courage to talk to him. Maybe someday he'll respond to one of my lame jokes.
There are a lot of things about this boy that make him worthy of my attention, but over the last few weeks, I've noticed something fascinating-- he seems to look younger and younger all the time. I think it's because he's lost a lot of weight over the time I've known of him (and a lot of muscle too). His hair, once spiked and trendy, has grown out into a little-boy, side-part style. For a while he had whiskers, but now his face looks smooth as it would have been as a child. He seems shorter, too. I think he's slumping his shoulders. Or maybe it's because his face is always down, particularly when he feels my gaze. Gone is the vibrancy and confidence of the man I once saw, exchanged with something like timidity, though it might be old-fashioned pride. I haven't heard him really speak for weeks. He keeps to the shadows like my light will destroy him, and he resents it. Ironically, seeing his diminishing persona clouds my own countenance and I feel darker when I am around him. We're both starting at shadows.

Operation Monte Cristo: Because Looking Good is the Best Revenge

2010-06-09T09:14:00.000-07:00

I am TAN!
And sure, maybe if you run into me IRL, you'll still think I'm pretty pasty, but believe me, for me, I'm tan.
Also, I have really good hair today. I'm bringing back the side pony tail.
I'm energetic, because I had a great workout this morning.
I had oatmeal for breakfast, and so far, Vegetarianism, Day 9 of 30, is super.
And because I cleaned out my closet and gave many of my clothes to the good people at the thrift shop, I'm finding what's left of my closet is heavy on the Anthropologie, which = soft, feminine, and slightly unusual clothes.
Cue the "Westside Story" soundtrack.

Trade-Offs

2010-06-08T07:26:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I know I sounded extra grumpy, and I wanted to do a point-counterpoint type of post that way you'd know I'm not jumping off a bridge or something, but pride kept me from two posts in one day.
So today is happier, I think. Sometimes things are tough, but you just work around that.
For example, last night I felt a little sick and didn't go to FHE. I would have liked to have gone to town, particularly to see Dallin and Daniel, my little heroes, and Pam who just got back from her trip. But rather than wallow in self pity, I went home and got to work. I cleaned out my closet, ridding myself of 8 paper grocery bags full of clothes and shoes. That felt good. I also finished my filter flowers (a beautiful project, if I do say so myself) and did a ton of laundry. I mowed the lawn and set up an appointment I've needed to make for weeks. I went to bed feeling mighty accomplished.
Though it's early, today has had its hurdles and successes already. I woke up from a bad dream where Pretty Boy George (thanks, Gerri) was dating a certain girl I know and don't particularly care for. Her eyelashes look like spider legs, and she walks like a killer. She's mean to a lot of people I love, so she's never really secured my good opinion. Anyway, in my dream PBG chewed me out while Spider Eyes looked on admiringly.
The good news? I was super stoked to wake up and go to the gym, because then the dream couldn't continue. Already today I returned a library book, dropped the clothes off at the thrift store, and did a little more house cleaning. On the not-as-bright-side, I found out this morning that Los Lunas no longer offers plastic recycling (boo!), and I got a rather dirty look from a kid who passed me at an intersection. So, you see, nothing to ruin a person's day-- just the ebb and flow of good and bad. Not eating animals is making me more philosophical.
PS. Great news! Debra and Sylvia are going to let me sell some of my smaller creations at Then and Again in Carlsbad! Whoo hoo! My glitter and I will take over the decorating world!

A Little Something to Make Me Sweeter

2010-06-07T09:18:00.000-07:00

It's vegetarianism, Day 7.
So far, so good, except I'm famished today-- not a good sign because it's only 10:19 a.m. and I keep wandering out to my parents' kitchen. Not a lot of great options here, but I'm sure the feeling will pass.
The meatless weekend went pretty well. I wasn't able to eat a couple of my favorite salads at Sweet Tomatoes, but that left room for a bigger one with the fat-free honey mustard dressing I love.
And as usual, I was a little too busy to eat or think much on it.
The only snafu was yesterday at Break the Fast. I really ought to have left right away as planned, but my friend Dallin asked me to come sit with him while he ate. So I thought, "OK, I can handle this." Plus also, the gracious James and Tyler had provided a huge bowl of salad and I was looking forward to sitting with someone who makes me feel a little less bad (D.Y.). But I'll be darned if those kids hadn't eaten ALL of the salad! Dang it!
I'll admit, I snapped. Hardcore. I sat in my car sobbing for a good 20 minutes before I drove home.
Lest you think I've gone totally nutty in the last 7 days, you ought to know it wasn't really about the salad. The salad was just the perfect representation of it all.
I was moody from the moment I set foot in the Institute on Sunday. I think the whole place still had the couple's-karma from AFK's birthday bash the night before. I'd attended the black-tie event, but was a little shocked to see that people had really taken the date thing seriously. Couples everywhere! One boy offered to be my escort through the evening, but no one wants pity. I ended up leaving early because I felt super uncomfortable and lonely.
So yesterday it didn't get all that much better. I sat alone in the front of the chapel because I'd been asked to lead the music. I don't think I would have even noticed being alone, except when I got up to wave my arm, I saw people packed in like sardines in the back, and couldn't help noticing all the empty chairs in my vicinity. It might have had something to do with the geographical location (because for some reason the front row is off limits?), but it felt pretty bad.
Also hurting my feelings? A certain former friend of mine who wouldn't look at me. But that's another story...
Anyway, things got a little better as the day went on. My friends the missionaries offered to beat a particular person up for me-- and let's face it, Elder Boden could break someone in half just by looking at them, and Elder Van Etten isn't a slacker either. Relief Society was really good. I thought I'd gotten past the grumpies until someone asked me if I'd been sunburned or had a rash on my chest-- not exactly what one wants to hear when they woke up thinking, "At least I'm super tan." And then there was the issue of the salad. Oh, the salad!
I tried to leave, but as I said, I had to get some crying out. And then I couldn't back out because there were some chaps gathered around f-BFF (former Bestie) and his truck, and I didn't really want them to all see my face red as a beet (or red as my decolletage, as the helpful girl had suggested). So I had to wait for what seemed like hours, crying like a nincompoop, shooing away the helpful comforting arms because a) I didn't want the negative attention and b) there's only one set of comforting arms I wanted at that point, but they're attached to a head that won't look up when I walk in a room and hands held up in defense or in fists.
So I went home. I turned off my phone. I took a long nap, because it's nice to have that sensation of waking up and not remembering right away what brought you to that sad place. When I turned the phone back on, I only had one message from someone telling me I'm doing a bad job at something (which is actually pretty good, on average). Things really did get better.
So now it's Monday, and I'm sleepy, but I'm at work. I'm hungry, but my family only eats meat and candy (exaggeration, of course, but that's what it feels like). I'm looking forward to getting a lot of paperwork done in hopes that it will take my mind off things a bit. And I'm hoping to cultivate a sweeter disposition and a little respect.

Vegetarianism, Day 3 of 30

2010-06-03T13:48:00.000-07:00

In answer to Louise's text query (sorry Lou! I got distracted last night), I'm not nearly as grumpy today. Good thing, because no one would want to be around me for the next 27 days were the trend to continue!
Last night my mood greatly improved after I went to the gym and came home to watch a nice foreign film whilst crocheting a baby blanket for a certain Ellie Mae (sorry T, if I messed up the spelling!). So even though the kiddos were a complete chore yesterday and things kept cropping up to hinder my zen path, I think the key to happiness is not meat but possibly craft projects and working out. It's a winning combination so far.
I'm actually not hungry at all at the moment-- just sleepy. I'm learning that if I'm going to make my 530 workout (which I did this morning, thank you very much-- have only missed going to the gym while out of town since I re-enrolled a few weeks back), I simply must go to sleep early. Had an interesting conversation last night that only lasted 15 minutes, but the aftermath left me up and pondering past 1030, and it made getting up a little tough. My cute orange hoodie made it easier though (why, oh, why are workout clothes and my body not friends? I guess that's the thing-- gotta keep going to the gym if they are to come to better terms, but in the meantime I'm just glad that there's not much of a morning rush, as this isn't January).
Oh, but you wanted to know about the v-word, right? Hmm. There's really not that much to tell. Fiber One bar for breakfast, cheddar cheese and banana for lunch. See what I mean? I'm just not hungry today at all. Oh wait. I did have a midmorning snack--animal crackers. Hope that wasn't a no-no. Hahaha! Dinner is away from home this evening, so I hope that I can get veggie-licious with the salad (the only thing on the menu friendly to my month's plan). Must. Go. Grocery. Shopping.
You know what else I'm craving? Getting out of the blasted office! I know I should be grateful for the short work week, but my mind is just elsewhere these days-- no place in particular, just not with me. My fingers keep twitching. Getting myself to do simple tasks is just a monumental struggle this week. I don't know where else I even want to be, but 5 p.m. can't come soon enough. Shall I blame it on the vegetables?

Vegetarianism, Day 2 of 30

2010-06-02T11:35:00.000-07:00

I don't think people need meat to be happy and healthy, but I sure think the mental hurdle of feeling deprived is no good. Yesterday, no meat, no problem. I mean, yes, I thought it was a touch insensitive for my mom to cook some hamburger while I was still at the office, but in her defense, she did make me some broccoli. You know, I think that if I weren't thinking about it, there wouldn't be a problem at all. How many times do I go for several-day stretches without even noticing that I've not had meat of any kind? And I don't even want any now, but I strongly suspect that this is somewhat related to my wanting to pummel just about anything that comes in my way today.
I am grumpy in the worst way. I can't seem to get anything done today-- this is not a huge surprise, as my nieces are here, but it's worse than usual. A certain person who shall remain nameless keeps calling and adding to my list of things to do. The girls are completely grouchy and naughty. Paizlee has smeared Cheetos all over my shirt, and I had to take my necklace off because she's nearly choked me several times. Zoey won't have anything to do with me except when she wants me to carry her over to grandma. My customers are being demanding, except for the ones who owe us money, who are being frightfully elusive. My house is a mess, I never got around to making an appointment I need, and I generally want to grow crawl into a hole and not come out... ever.
Again, I don't know if this has anything to do with the vegetarian thing, but I don't know how I'm going to stand 29 more days of this if the trend continues.

Summer-- It Turns Me Upside Down

2010-06-01T16:12:00.001-07:00

There are three things I positively detest about the season between Memorial Day and Labor Day. It's hard to rank which is the worst in my book, so they are, in no particular order:

* Heat
* White Shoes
* Summer Sales Guys (with a few exceptions)

Can I get a witness?

Still, there are many, many, many wonderful things to love about the season, and while I was out running errands this afternoon, I made a mental list. If you are grumpy about the countless knocks on your door regarding satellite dishes and security systems (or worse, if these chumps, who inevitably wear huge, white K-Swiss sneakers are asking you out-- ick!), then I offer you my list to make you feel better:

Antiques
Amusement Parks
BBQs (though I'll be grilling all veggies for the month of June, my friends)
Camping
Cabin time in Colorado
Concerts
Farmers markets
Fresh produce
Flea markets
Flip-flops
Family reunion
Fireworks
Garage Sales
Gingham
Lavender Festival in Rancho de Albuquerque
Monsoons (if you are lucky enough to live in NM or AZ)
Outdoor concerts
Pedicures
Picnics in the Park
Parades
Rodeos
Summer Blockbusters (hello, Twilight!)
Summerfest (again, go Albuquerque!)
Tanning (yes, I do this in a booth, but no one questions it in the summer-- I'd look a little weird bronzed in say, December)
Weddings (expensive, but fun)
Weekends (because a good number of my "bosses" go out of town, and I get a little bit of a mental break)

I'll think of more, I'm sure... Feel free to add to my list.

"There are two sides to every question: my side and the wrong side." -- Oscar Levant

2010-06-01T08:18:00.000-07:00

I'll be the first to admit it. I'm opinionated. And you know what? I'm proud of it.
Because if I weren't, I probably wouldn't have bothered voting at 7 this morning when the polls opened.
And I don't mind telling you that if you smother me, I'll think you're weird and you are social toast. If you are a man with a girlfriend and you want to take me out, you're gonna have to dump sister first, because I'm not a home wrecker. If you are going to try to tear me down, and tell me all the reasons I'm not good enough to be your employee, your leader, your girlfriend, your whatever, I'm not gonna agree with you. I'm feisty.
Of course, I'm not unreasonable. I'm happy to hear what you have to say. But if you are wrong, I'm gonna just do what I want anyhow.
Still, I'm trying something new. Today is Day 1 of the Month of Vegetarianism. Yes, I'm doing it.
For years, I've told people I would have no problem giving up meat. Now I'm going to see if I was lying.
Do you like the way I chose a "short" month?
Anyway, I'm not going extreme (read: vegan, because I think people who don't eat cheese and honey are nutters), but I'm just gonna see how hard it is, and how I feel at the end of the month. Much harder will be the month I go without processed sugar, but that's not on the list of "30 Things to do before I'm 30" at the moment. Let's see how June works out for me.
And speaking of working out, can I just say that I love my gym? The people there are really nice, and a pretty clean-cut lot. I'm grateful. I like seeing my 5:30 a.m. buddies.
Plus also, I'm hoping to make some 5:30 PM buddies starting this week, because I'm starting two-a-days on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Boo-yah.
Other random thoughts:
* Best part of my weekend was finding out that my adorable cousin and his adorable wife have a similar weakness for antiques.
* I might be allergic to grass. I sat down in a park last night, and last night I thought I'd have to amputate my legs (not really, but I don't have any Benedryl at the house... add that to the Wal-Mart list).
* The bed I'm refurbishing is not coming out the way I want it to yet. I'm not super happy with the silver leaf at the moment, so it may just end up with a new coat of paint. I can justify this because even though it will have been a huge waste of money on the metallic leaf front, at least I'm getting rid of things in my craft closet.
* When I go dancing this weekend, my friends will be out of town. Lou Lou moved, and Pammy will be at a wedding. Therefore, I'm just gonna dance in the corner by myself. I actually feel pretty good about this decision. I may also opt out of any partner dances, if the mood strikes me.
* Gonna go get a library card today. Hooray!
OK. Off to kick butt and take names. Or do some invoicing. Whatever.

Time is on my Side

2010-05-27T12:02:00.000-07:00

Even though I am 29, I am reverting back to being about 29-months old. How do I know this? Because I snack on dry Cheerios. They lower cholesterol and are fiber-ful and delicious. But I feel like I'm back in nursery just a bit.
I realized a couple of things this morning that I'm rather happy about.
1) Even though we're a little manic and overwhelming every once in a while, I love being a Sego. It means getting the job done, whatever that is. As I simultaneously invoiced, worked on payroll and bid a job this morning, I got a phone call from my brother letting me know he picked up some money, but he immediately got another call and had to let me go. It was fine because I had a question for my mom who was out running errands, but got an answer to the question mid-sentence from my dad, so we hung up so she could be effective and so could I. No one was annoyed or put out. We're just a fine-tuned machine. I love it.
2) After I gave up television a few years ago (not completely, of course-- I still catch the news and the Barefoot Contessa at my parents' from time to time), I became so much more accomplished. Well, I've been so busy recently that I've neglected my Netflix for a couple of weeks. If this trend continues, I might just have to give it up as well. Oh, I still love movies and all, but who can honestly prefer sitting down to watch "Il Postino" or "Caramel" when there is a bed to be refinished or swans to glitter or closets to clean out? Now if only I could find something else to give up so I could do some yard work...