October 2011

And what an October it was! Travel was my new best friend this past month.

First stop: Seattle

Not only did I get to spend a fun day out in the city with a large bunch of the Campbell clan, I was also fortunate to attend my cousin Jenny's wedding. It was a perfect, family filled weekend.

Second stop: New York City

SO much to see-- I don't even know where to begin. Phantom of the Opera, Opera at the Met, eating, more eating, Central Park, a protest, Ann Curry obsessing over Noah, and everything else. Thank you Laura and Cort (and Cort's family) for letting me tag along.

Third stop: Long Beach/Disneyland

A little tour of the Queen Mary and a solid visit to Disneyland with the gang was much needed--and just as great as you would imagine. My friends are hilarious and a lot of fun to travel with.

The Jim...

awkwardfamilyphotos.com

Well I'm back at the gym. Mostly I prefer working out while doing something outside-- it's prettier and I tend to do my best thinking... but this is also a problem because I walk at slower paces, stop to look at flowers, and then I wind up sitting on the grass. To get a solid workout I've come to realize that I rely on the gym and the intimidation of working out among extremely fit people. I really do dread the gym though and it is because of the:

1. Humidity. Not nature's humidity, but human humidity. This means that people are sweating and breathing and releasing gases and it stresses me out.

2. Noises. All sorts of hideous noises that those making them should be embarrassed about. They're not. I could be making a huge storm of noises while working out but my problematic pride and sense of decency keeps it all in.

3. Sweaty machines. Maybe 10% of machine users wipe down after use.

4. Heavy lifters. Certain men who go straight to the weight room to lift a thousand pounds above their head... yes, strong. Here's the problem guys-- you end up looking a little off balance with huge, broad shoulders and arms, but tiny little legs. Do some cardio too. PS. You are the culprits behind the worst of the worst noises.

5. Women who work out in dangly earrings.

...number 6. Number 6 is my new friend Jim (hence the title)... Oh Jim. He's no spring chicken. I'd say he's at least, LEAST in his late 70s and he's in love with me. Usually men like this don't bother me so much because they are more of a grandfatherly type that want to compliment and offer advice. Not Jim. The fact that I actually look like a sweaty teenage boy at the gym seems to escape his attention completely. On several occasions he has mentioned that he wants a younger wife, he loves brown-haired girls, and he could give me all the security I need, financially speaking. This has forced me to create a really fancy lie about how I'm engaged to a younger man who has lots of money and we might be moving to Europe. Yeah I've taken it way too far. Oh and Jim can't ever remember my name. Most days he calls me Kimmy, but every now and then I'm Emmy, Emily, Angie, today I was Annie. Close Jim, real close.

On a totally different note-- I want to give Amanda a BIG birthday shout-out. XO!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Have a great Tuesday everybody.

Thoughts for Friday

Is it just me or does paste just not taste as good as it used to?...

*If you don't know where that quote comes from then you haven't lived.

I'm writing this from my office at Barnes and Noble cafe. This time it is the B&N off of Fort Union. Unfortunately I've come after the lunch hour when, apparently, Cookie Monster eats a million cookies at every table, leaving a sea of crumbs on every chair and in every crevice. Oh Cookie Monster.

I had a dream last night that I cut my hair to chin length. I love short hair on girls, and if you are reading this right now and have chin length hair I probably love it on you... However, I have not been blessed with easy going, do what you want kind of hair. I have inherited my father's horse textured, massive, velcro mane. Anytime I put a mustache on myself (yes, this has happened more than you'd think) I unmistakably resemble Harry Potter's Hagrid. I've always had a soft spot for him because of this. Back to the chin length nightmare... It was horrendous. I think I'll keep it long for a good long while.

What's the worst thing about going for a walk/run on a trail that loops around you ask? That answer is easy-- seeing the same people pass by and feeling obligated to say "Hi" and then both giggling a little bit to cover up what you're really thinking: If I have to pass you, say "hi" and giggle one more time I'm going to ____________ (insert most dramatic, upsetting thing you can think of).

Last thought of the day: The best movies were made in the 70s and 80s. Don't argue with me. Everything else is just trying a bit too hard. If you need proof of this why don't you go see Cowboys and Aliens or Captain America. Not both, you might explode.

P.S. This is Jimmy McMillan, a real politician. The beard is real too. America!

Driving

I've never been a "car person..." (car person= a person who border line has romantic feelings for cars and knows what "horse power" means). No, I'm not a car person... I just love a good drive. Seriously. A drive up and down the Wasatch Mtn range listening to music or just sitting in silence is my idea of an awesomely good time. If someone is with me, even better.

A few things I've observed about drivers and driving:

I believe that everyone's true self comes out on the road. I laughed about this thought out loud the other day while driving. I mean think about it-- we are confined to one, two, three lanes at most, and limited to the speed we can go. Lights tell us to stop, orange cones direct us, and yield signs force us to be kind. Yet with all the rules on the road we still have the freedom to flip someone off at a 4-way stop, ride another car's bumper, and honk at a bicyclist drifting into traffic (disclaimer: I do none of these... correction-- I try not to do any of these). Because we are safely within the confines of our own car it somehow makes outrageous behavior acceptable and then quickly forgotten. Are we closet angry people?

Speed says a lot about drivers and definitely goes hand in hand with the type of car driven. I'll be the first to admit that the very second a van of any kind pulls in front of me I am immediately outraged and swerve into the next lane. If any of you are psychologist or analytical in anyway please analyze that and also what it means if I feel the need to be the first to punch my gas and take off at a green light, leading the pack of cars behind me...Every Single Time. Posible control issues, yeah probably. And vans... issues with inevitably needing one someday? Also yes, probably.

Music and driving, what a good combination that can turn so wrong so fast. Example: The other day I pulled up to a light and the fella in the next lane is listening to grunge music so loud that I can feel it pulsing through my steering wheel and subsequently into my head. I won't tolerate grunge and believe only the worst kind of people enjoy it (many of whom are faking it)... but without warning I'm sucked into this guy's world. He looks over at me banging his head and assuming that I'm seeing life through his eyes. Green light-- eat my dust.

Lately I've considered the idea of flying lessons just to take this whole experience to the sky. Most likely that won't happen for a while-- if it even does... I still believe that planes are held up by magic.

My last thoughts on driving: always buckle up, and remember that car stickers are like body tattoos-- most if not all are regrettable.

A Conversation

This is the conversation I had with Anna this morning while getting ready:

Me: What if I gave you a pet spider for your birthday? That would be fun.

Anna: I'd flush it down the toilet.

Me: But what if I spent $200 on it?

Anna: That doesn't matter. A spider would be the ultimate worst present that anyone could ever give me... and I was once given a plaid shirt from Hollister.

Worth Watching

TV these days is more of a nuisance than anything. However, these I will watch:





Thank goodness for PBS, I guess.

Happy 4th!

I'm pretty sure I am repeating this post from the last 4th of July, but I just can't get enough of Langston Hughes-- my favorite American.

The Negro Speaks of Rivers

I've known rivers:

I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.

I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.

I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.

I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went down to New Orleans,

and I've seen its muddy bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I've known rivers:

Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.