makes no difference where i go

A local news anchor retired the other day and I was shocked to discover that my beloved hometown song was not so original.

Exhibit A:


I can still sing this word for word. So, imagine my surprise, and dismay, when I realized it was a nation-wide (and Canada-wide) campaign for various CBS locales. Until this musical montage was played on Michelle King's last broadcast I was in the dark.

Exhibit B:


It's the same singer and even the vibrato-ey part at the end is the same, except the word. I feel like my whole childhood was a sham.

And this version is for my sister (scroll down to the Utah link). Apparently grown women still swoon for Donny.

***UPDATE: I just read this article on Wiki. Wisconsin, you win. *Sigh

i want this

Long ago I emailed one of my music gurus regarding a song I desperately wanted. Sadly, he informed that Cat Powers cover of a Cat Stevens song was only recorded for the specific commercial I saw it on. Now, I'm not a huge diamond fan but this De Beers commercial gets me every time... because of the song. Every couple of months I Google it again in hopes that the full song has been recorded. I am always disappointed. My one Christmas wish would be a full length version of this song. Oh how I wish I had the money to get her to do a whole cover and release it for my listening consumption.

What song from a commercial do you love? Enjoy mine if you don't have one.

the single life

(This is filed under TMI-too much information. I don't know why I am opening myself up like this but I am)

Life has been busy but good. For the first time in years I feel like I am in a good place. Last year was one of the darkest years of my life and it had absolutely nothing to do with my dating life. I know a lot of my past experiences had piled up but I wasn't blue because there was no man in my life. All that was obvious to me was that this dark cloud seemed to follow me everywhere. I was a walking, talking human Eeyore. Now the sun has come out, the clouds have departed and I can breathe again.

This brings me back to the title. I am single. I am loving being single. I spent too many years in my twenties feeling the pangs of being dateless. I analyzed what could possibly be holding me back. Was I pretty enough? Did I talk too much? Was I too faithless so my prayers weren't listened to? All of this eroded my self-esteem and I started to actually believe all the bullshit I told myself. Today I can look at myself honestly and fairly. I can be critical, talk too much and question every last thing, but I'm rather funny and a good listener. I can look in the mirror and truly believe that "I look cute today." I really am starting to like myself. The more I like myself, the less desire I have to be married or have children. This is where my current dilemma has hit. I grew up in a religion that focuses on family. The family is central and what we should all be striving for. I believe in family. I love my own family. They are the world to me. I know the family unit is so important in our society... and yet, I don't feel the pang for it like I once did. I go to church and people talk of their desire to start their own family. Friends tell me "I wish you could find the right guy." Some friends even talk to me about their own discouragement that marriage hasn't happened yet. I hear my lonely friends and I empathize with their plight, but sigh with relief that it's not me. Then my already over-analyzing brain goes in to overdrive. Am I fooling myself? Is this a way to protect myself from feeling the pangs of loneliness?

The sting hits sometimes, like the night I listened to Regina Spektor sing "Samson." I thought of how lovely it would be to hold hands with a fine fellow who loves me, listening to beautiful music. But the thought left as quickly as it came. I am open to this marriage idea. I would never turn away a handsome, funny, kind and loving man. I also know I will be okay if I don't. I have started dreaming again. I love my dreams.



But I don't know how they fit with the the notion of family... my own family. I don't want reassurances that it will all work out and I'm not soliciting comments for "you go girl, be happy being single." I'm trying to verbalize all these thoughts that go through my head. I'm trying to balance religious beliefs with current feelings. Can I truly be happy being single? Am I being selfish? Am I protecting myself?

I don't know. Time will tell. I do know that I never want to let go of how I feel now. I love that my smiles are genuine again. Laughing has never felt so good. I love myself, now that's something to brag about.

CAN

I've decided not to write about burning my forehead with my flat iron or crotching myself in spin class yesterday but rather to leave you with something inspirational. I've been trying to figure out how to download this video to my computer so I can use it in group therapy today. It doesn't matter how much I watch this video, I always cry. It is a reminder of how fortunate I am, and the goodness in others.


To read more on the Hoyts go here. Happy Thursday everyone. Mine will be... I have two adorable nieces in town and I'm healthy and happy.

the master of tact

On Monday's there is a very attractive swim coach in the lane beside me. I have admired him from afar but did not have the courage to talk to him. My friend talked to him (she's married) this past week and we discovered he worked at another treatment centre. We were unsure if he was married or not, and truthfully, I didn't really want to know! This past Monday, Kris and I were talking in the locker room, and jokingly I said "He was checking me out and even gave me a smile." Right as I was saying this, the female coach that was assisting him walked by us. I was completely mortified. In doing some research I found out he was married. So there I am, exaggerating the truth about a hot married man, making a complete fool of myself and he might actually find out what I said. Anytime I think of this story I want to find a large rock to hide under.

My three choices are to a) never go back to that pool again, b) avoid any and all eye contact and pretend I never said anything like that and hope the girl didn't tell him I said anything like that, or c) start a friendly conversation and act normal.

I'm leaning toward a or b. I can't count how many times I have done something similarly stupid. I don't think I will ever learn my lesson.

mass produced mistake

Creamies are a great way to finish off your meal. My favourite is chocolate, big surprise there. When I finished one last night I read the little inspirational quote they left me on the stick. I read it again and laughed and laughed.

I wonder how that gets by so many people. Have you ever been amused by a mass produced (or mini produced) mistake?

elevator etiquette and other such things

Prior to the 3rd of October I was a Vegas virgin. My first trip to Sin City was quite entertaining and a post will be done shortly. I am still waiting on a few pictures from my friends. Our hotel, the MGM Grand, was huge. Many minutes were spent waiting for elevators and watching other people also waiting for elevators. And no big surprise, a great many needed elevator training.

I wanted to give a beat down to those folks that would push past the line of people waiting for an elevator, quickly jump in to the first one to open, making the rest of us squeeze in or wait for another one. A line is a line is a line. Get in the back!

What annoyed me even more was when people would squeeze on to the elevator before the rest of us got off. I sometimes get antsy if I've been waiting awhile and the elevator is crammed full but haven't ever had one take off before I can get on. I assume that others have also had my experience, so having to shimmy around another person is beyond irritating.

Then there were the people that seemed as though they had never rode on an elevator. If the door opened, the assumed it was going the direction they were wanting to go to. If they spent one or two seconds looking around they would notice that the light identifies the direction it is heading. Oh how I wished I had counted the number of people that would start to get on the elevator only to turn back when we told them we were going up.

Apparently taking an elevator isn't as easy as 1, 2, 3.

dating game

So, when you are older and single, people want to help out by setting you up. I'm usually open to it because you never know, prince charming might just be your friend's second cousin once removed. The most recent request I received was from my sister-in-law's mother. The bio sounded positive... older, attractive, similar values, son of a prominent member in the community. So I gave my mom the go-ahead to send off my email.

I was sharing this information to my girlfriends yesterday and one said "Wait, I think one of the sons got in trouble with the law." I went home and used my google sleuthing skills only to find out that this young man had two disturbing arrests. I'm not in the business of outing other people so I'm not giving any further information but let's just say you wouldn't want to date someone with this history. I can forgive a DUI but there are some things I'm not messing with. I call my mom freaking out (she might have thought she was talking to a sailor with all the colourful words I was using). My mom had already sent my email to the setter-upper so she called her and luckily my email hadn't yet been sent to this guy. She was quite shocked at the news and completely understood my apprehension at this person having my email. After I calmed down I laughed a little. That could become a party story, you know "So my sister-in-law's mom tried to set me up with a (insert legal history). Guess things must really be desperate for me." {Chuckles all around}

Then several hours later I started to feel a little queasy again. How do we really know the people we are dating? If he had been an average Jo, a google search would have come up empty. People could have skeletons in their closets and I could be none the wiser. I guess life is fraught with risks, I'm just glad I knew about this one ahead of time. And for the record, I need a few more months before someone wants to set me up. This one left a bad taste in my mouth.

things to do in september

Just in case your September was dull, I'll give you some ideas for next year. My September was pretty fabulous.

Start your September with a mommy/daughter road trip. You can go anywhere, but my mom and I chose Moab. She was a super trooper on our several hikes in Arches National Park.





Pretty isn't it?

Turn 30, or at least pretend you just turned 30. I'm now discovering how fantastic it is. Your friends might be sneaky and decorate your office floor to ceiling. It was amazing and embarrassing.


Be sure to show appreciation to those that sent flowers. Top of a big birthday with pedicures and dinner with your closest friends (and phone calls with those far away).

Once you are feeling the vibe that 30 brings, socialize and flirt like crazy. It will score you two dates in one day (for you married folk, don't accept unless it is from your spouse). What can I say? I'm hot!

Book a flight to Boston and Vegas in October. This gives you something to look forward to once September is over.

Attend an Arcade Fire concert. The set will amaze you, as will their energy. Check out Dainon's blog for a more thorough review. Absolutely fantastic.

Round out your month with a trip to Vernal. You might just get an invite to participate in a cattle drive. The real cowboys will laugh at your city slicker-ness but it will still be worth it. I'm sure I would laugh at someone trying to get their horse to stop galloping or holding on for dear life as the beast jumps a ditch. However, if you get a chance to do something as cool as this, bring your camera. You will regret not being able to share the images that are in your head. It truly was a beautiful site to see... cows, mountains, horses, sun setting.

September really has proved to me (like Lisa says) that 30 really is the new 20, except you're smarter and richer. I'm pretty stoked about the next 10 years.

i'm sorry

I'm sorry for neglecting you blog. I will come back to you, I promise. There are still more posts to be had. You are not forgotten.

money, money, money

Have you ever gone in to a store to pick up a "few" items only to leave with a bill over $150? People say you shouldn't go to the grocery store when you're hungry. I think you should also avoid shopping at a multi-purpose store when you are bored and want to spend money. At least I got a tea kettle among a "few" other items.

just singing in the...

I happened to shower beside Christine (not this Christine but this one) at the gym. Perhaps she was singing because she had a date with Raoul or maybe she was just having a happy morning. Kudos to her for sharing her talent so openly with everyone... that is until I had the urge to whistle "Memories" from Cats. After suppressing that urge, I suddenly had every single Andrew Lloyd Webber* song that I knew floating around my head.

Damn you pseudo-Christine and damn you Mr. Webber for ruining my Tuesday morning.

*Warning: Disturbing Image that IS work safe.

the week of the ma'am

On Friday I was shopping at Dani's favourite store that she rarely gets to visit (due to her location). As I was perusing the aisles a friendly guy dressed in a red shirt and khaki's asked "Do you need any assistance ma'am?" I responded "No, thank you." Not more than five minutes later another worker asked me again "Can I help you with anything ma'am?" Either Target is using a new customer service strategy or I must have looked old* and confused. I'm hoping it's the latter as I prefer to shop in peace.

*Three ma'ams in one week is starting to qualify me for the older woman status.

excuse me ma'am

There are only a few times I don't mind being called ma'am. One of those exceptions occurred yesterday as I was leaving a grocery store. The nice clerk ran after me yelling "Ma'am, excuse me, ma'am, you forgot one of your bags." Sometimes my memory works as well as I feel when I'm called ma'am.

shameless self promotion

Yesterday I completed a half-marathon. I know I have blogged about the triathlons I have done this year but this race meant so much more to me. As a teenager I struggled with asthma that often interfered with any sort of sport. Today it can be induced by exercise but is much more manageable. On top of that, I was never much for working out. I was not athletic enough to make it on any sports teams nor did I have any desire to engage in individual events. Last year I started to get serious about exercising. Running was still my weak area and I would struggle to get a mile in before walking. I was so focused on the triathlons this year that I didn't train as much as I should have for this race. Running was also low on my "likes" that it was easy to skip my run days when I was tired. As race day approached, I was terrified. I had only gotten up to nine miles and that was interspersed with a lot of walking. It seemed impossible that I would be able to push out 13.1 miles, especially with my knee giving me trouble. Friday night I resigned myself to the possibility of walking a lot during the race. When I woke up Saturday I kept telling myself to just do my best.

The course was beautiful. It wound down a canyon full of gorgeous trees. As I looked at the scenery and listened to my music, I started to just relax and enjoy it. I kept running and running, longer than I had ever before. At mile 10, I gave myself permission to walk for a few minutes. The last three miles were so hard. The course moved in to the town and out of the canyon. I could feel pain in various parts of my body and my knee but I pushed myself to keep running. Monica ran me in the last half mile when all I wanted to do was quit. I was so grateful for her pep talk and keeping me focused (although in the moment I didn't appreciate it quite as much). As I crossed the finish line, I started to cry. Perhaps it was exhaustion but I had also accomplished something that I didn't ever think possible. I used to be a lazy asthmatic that detested running and here I was completing my first half-marathon. All the downhills helped me to finish in a much faster time than I expected. I proved to myself that I really can do my "impossibles." This summer I have seen my progress and it feels pretty darn good. How lucky I am to have friends that encouraged me and pushed me to do all these races! Now I wish I knew someone that could rub my extremely sore thighs and calves. Yesterday I was on cloud nine and today I just want to find a really good massage therapist.

the next michelangelo

My niece is a budding artist. Like Michelangelo, any surface can be her canvas.


(click to enlarge)

However, I don't think her parents commissioned this piece of art for their bathroom.

seriously?

Reality shows are my Achilles' heel. Trashy ones? Yup, those too. I'm currently stressing over Big Brother. So, I will usually give any show a one episode chance. Bret Michael's Rock of Love has earned two viewings. It's so bad I can't change the channel. Yet, I stumbled on another VH1 show that started a wave of nausea. The Pick Up Artist focuses on helping nerdy men develop their skills with women.

However, these are the "stars" of the show
The guy in the middle goes by the name of "Mystery." It's no mystery to me that I would vomit in my mouth if he tried to pick me up. On what planet is he the Master of Pick Up?

I could only last 15 minutes on this one but the portion I viewed was the men learning stock type lines as openers to meeting women. When I heard this ONE, I busted up laughing. See, the first night I met Ange (read The Good Papo on the right) we went to a house party. We were sitting around chatting when a guy interrupted with that opener. (I even blogged about it in 2005). He failed miserably. It was awkward and annoying... and now I KNOW it was just a phony way to get us talking, not even a real story. Looks like Mystery needs to teach these men something more useful. And someone needs to teach Mystery some style.

my welcome back

After spending nine days in Canada, my food supply was pretty low. Succumbing to the dreaded grocery shopping, I chatted away to a friend on the phone. I stopped in the aisle to look at razors (as I left mine behind). An older woman got close to me so I moved, thinking I was in her way. She tapped her eyeglasses then tapped me. I finally realized that her proximity was an attempt to talk to me. I asked my friend to hold a moment and the woman said "Sorry to interrupt but I love your glasses. Where did you get them?"

Yes, Utah, this fashion maven is back in town...

master charge

I knew we were in for a treat when our motel had a "Master Charge" sign hanging below it, rather than the more commonly known "MasterCard." I'm not sure that anything, including that sign, had changed since 1979.

Let me introduce you to all the amazing features of the Parish Motel in Burley, Idaho.

You need to call someone? Sorry this phone will only get you to the front desk.

Towels come with complimentary holes and stains. See Kris's fingers poking through? Also note the pretty decor.


However, for 50 bucks a night (and nothing else available), it was worth it. We were minutes away from the start of our race. Ah spandex... now that's why everyone wants to do a triathlon, right?


In the end I didn't need knee pads but would have liked some miracle surge of energy halfway through my run. It didn't come. The last three miles of that run were painful.

phew!

When reading the official rules and regulations for my upcoming race, I was relieved to read this: No form of locomotion other than running, walking or crawling is allowed.

Anyone have knee pads?