Gordon B. Hinckley

I was deeply saddened today when I heard the news that the Prophet Gordon B. Hinckley, 15th President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, had passed away this evening at his home in Salt Lake City.

This man has had a profound effect on my young life and I love him more and more each day. I value his teachings and am very lucky to have had the opportunity to see him speak at two annual General Conference sessions. His compassion for humanity and his warmth toward young people was always apparent.

I hope that all who knew of him would hold his teachings and his legacy in high regard. I will keep his family and the First Presidency in my prayers, and I feel blessed to be able to have known him as my first Latter Day Prophet.

President Hinckley, you will be missed. Thank you for your dedication; your life is my biggest inspiration.

A Collection

I lose things often, and not because I am a disorganized person. Sometimes I loan things out and don't get them back, and sometimes my stuff just comes up missing out of nowhere, even though I swear up and down that I just saw whatever it was this morning or last night and now it's not where I put it. I also have a LOT of stuff. This could be part of my problem.

Anyhow, yesterday while looking for yet another "lost" item, I decided to check out the crawl-space, which is actually another room in my house that is only accessible through a small "Alice In Wonderland" type door in one of the bedrooms. I got down on all fours, swung open the door, groped along the inside wall to find the lightswitch, and crawled inside the room. As I looked up I realized how much "stuff" i actually had in that tiny little room. It was like crawling out of one world full of familiar and well-used things and into another filled with half-familar things that you forgot existed. The room itself is about 10'x9' or so, smaller than a bedroom but much larger than a closet, and was meant to be the storage space for my sister's and my extra random things. So far it's mostly my "extra" stuff in there that could probably furnish a small house, and I'm not even joking. I have cutting boards, colanders, baking sheets, end tables, lamps, blankets, a tea kettle, elegant dinnerwear (service for 8), silverwear, a cleaning bucket filled with brand new scrubbers and brushes of all sorts... not to mention 3 or 4 rubbermaid bins full of spring and summer clothing that I cannot wear until it gets warmer.

I admired my little collection of oddities (most of which I will use once I move, or once the seasons change) and decided that even though I lose things often, I eventually will get them back and they may find their way to a little waiting room like the crawl space only to be used again or lent out to someone who may have use for them. It's a bit like having your own little treasure room that you forget about until you need something or lose something.

I was also wondering how many other people had a stockpile of random things waiting to be used. Perhaps I am the only one...?

Peanut Butter Pie (and other distractions)

Have you ever noticed that when you know you have a certain amount of days off, you subconciously plan your time as if you normally had that day off? I mean, I really feel cheated when I have an extra day or two off of work and school; it's almost as if the extra day made me more busy, but then I realize the culprit behind my misplaced frustration: procrastination.

And peanut butter pie, which is really a part of a larger category; food. Not to mention sleep. But I digress...

I love extra days off. I like my job, but I long for extra days off. I will assume this is a normal feeling for pretty much everyone (except work-a-holics... whom are insanely sick in my opinion). But then I get extra days off and push my work and errands around to cover each day instead of getting everything done early so I can enjoy my days. Why do I do this? I have no answers, other than it's yet another thing that I've added to my " To Work On" list. Maybe on my next extra day off I won't sleep until noon and I will do my errands BEFORE my day off so I can get up and enjoy the glory of a work-less day.

On a different note, ballet is going quite well. Actually, I look forward to it more than anything else all week. I think I work harder in that class than I have ever worked at the gym. Much to the chagrin of my sister, I have been practicing like a loon at home (...a black-leotard clad tendu-fool wobbling on one leg trying to stabilize myself using my pelvic floor and visualizing marbles in unlikely and uncomfortable places). It is all for the greater good of my self-actualizing quest and in the end I will be a better, more well-rounded person. Well, less "round" (actually more lean) and more sophisticated.

PS. Sugar-free jello pudding... not good.

The Hidden Hurts of the Human Body

This morning I realized that there are muscles in my body that I had no idea existed. There is a little band of muscles below one's behind that one will probably never feel worked or strained in an average exercise or from running, or anything else I personally have experienced. There are also muscles deep in the lower abdomen that, even with crunches or ab machines, are not in the slightest bit noticed for their contributions to the human body. Finally, there are muscles on the insides of one's thighs that are noticed by sight, but rarely felt. That is, until now. The existence of these particular muscles, and many more, have gone for many years overlooked by me. Before I explain how I discovered these "hidden" fibers, let me give you a little background on my situation.



Like a lot of people, I took Human Biology in high school and learned all about the anatomy of a human being. I have participated in sports and tried (harder at some times than others) to be active and healthy. I have done Pilates, swam competitively, run, played soccer and participated in a multitude of other activities but never in my life have I hurt in places that I didn't think had anything to do with movement whatsoever. Especially for beautiful, fluid movement that looks light and easy... in my mind that movement should be light and easy to do, right?



After pondering over my "action plan" for the new year (for I do not make resolutions, but rather plans of action), I randomly decided that I didn't want to grow old and regret not doing something when I was perfectly capable of doing it and had the time and means to do it. What does this mean? It means I signed up for a ballet class. Yes. It sounds perfectly ridiculous, unless you are under the age of 8 (and I am far beyond that); and also perfectly ridiculous for me since I am probably one of the clumsiest, heavy footed people you will ever meet. My decision was based on the grounds that ballet looks lovely and that there are no weight-lifting or running on the treadmill requirements, and that it will help better my posture and hopefully give me a bit of grace.



I now have a new-found respect for anyone who has ever taken a ballet class. It's not that I've never been in a dance class. Quite the contrary; I was enrolled in ballet, tap, and jazz at the tender age of 4 and continued a few years until I was 7 and wanted to be in gymnastics instead. Do I remember anything about dance? No, other than the horrible make-up we had to wear for recitals and other performances, that I had a cute little ballet bag with a satin strap and a cool little compartment for my dance shoes, and that I had leos in every color with tiny satin bows on the pinched fronts that I pranced around the house in. My mom has pictures and video proving that I actually danced at some point, though, so I know I did.


So back to my respect for ballet and dancers... I've watched many a ballet, opera, etc but never would I have imagined the amount of fine muscle movement involved and the crazy discipline these folks have. Ten minutes into the class I was lulled into thinking that this was going to be the easiest class ever by the light stretching and teaching of the basic positions. Then we moved into demi-plies, which at first were simple enough until we had to do them in repetition for what seemed like an hour (but in reality was 5 or less minutes). We then moved to tendus in first and second, with demi-plies, and then to ronde de jombe (spelling, anyone? I took German, not French) with demi-plies and I thought my insides were going to burst and my legs would never stop wobbling. I felt a little comfort in the fact that I was not the only one with shaking legs when asked to hold a position.

The class, despite my complaining now, was fabulous in a "we all look hilarious, but at least we all look hilarious together" kind of way. Our instructor talked to us about stretching everyday even if we don't have class, and after waking up this morning, I will be taking her advice quite seriously. I will also be carrying Arnica Montana and Tylenol with me until my feet and muscles get used to this abuse. Perhpas I will be wearing shorts and a tee over my ballet togs until I don't feel quite so insanely silly in my black leotard and light pink tights as well.

I wonder what will hurt next week. Even though ballet is much harder than I remember or fathomed, I will see where it takes me.

Under Construction

I finally gave in...

After many months feverishly fighting against all of my blog-addicted friends and family to create my own blog, I have decided why fight the tide? So here it is, my very own blog, sans pictures or anything of real interest yet.

But not to worry, it is all coming soon. Give me a few days and if you ever had a question as to what my opinion is about something or what tickles my fancy or what I'm really up to, you will no longer wonder! It's not that hard to read me anyway, but now it will all be in writing.