Sunday Funday


Today  began slightly productive.  I slept in majorly, which was needed, and spent my first two hours of consciousness writing in the living room.  After 3-hour-church got out, Kate brought Harold and Joseph (? or something.  I was on the phone when he introduced himself) into our apartment. They were going to have dinner…at 2:00pm.  That was fine and good, but I had just eaten breakfast and didn’t feel like being social.  So I hermited in my room until I started feeling bleh.

It was raining, I was feeling boring and significantly less productive.  I decided to go grocery shopping.  I have an adventurous spirit, I know.  I lost myself on my trip to Sprouts and then I found myself in a much needed spiritual-healing kind of way in a Starbucks.  Where the theme song to Portlandia was playing.  And it just felt so darn good.

From the first straw suck of coffee, my motivation leaped like a child trying to reach the taunting offer of a high-five from an NBA player.  I did things.  I answered the door in my somewhat immodest pajamas (oh, it was just the bishop and his councilor), I went to Ward Prayer, I even went to a Game Night.

Mormons are really into their Game Nights.  There were a lot of young 20something gamers present.  When we did introductions I blew my cover straight away and admitted that I wasn’t a member.  It was a beautiful thing.  And when we played press conference and somebody was assigned President Monson, I didn’t even have to pretend!  I could just be my clueless self.  It was such a grand old time that I even stayed after Kate left!  We played another game called Signs, which I’m pretty sure is a drinking game.  I tried to think of a good ASL sign.  I ended up with the sign for hamster, so I’m sure that left an appealing impression.  But whatever, squids will be squids.


Conversations with Kids: Part Three




1st grader: Teacher, teacher!  Have you watched Chucky Chan?

Me: Chucky Chan?  Do you mean Jackie Chan?

1st grader: No, Chackie Chan.  It’s about a guy who knows karate.



2nd grader: Miss Darling…who’s she?

Other 2nd grader: You know her!  Her face is…

Me: What is my face?

2nd grader: Your face is…your face is…white.  You know, some people are white, some people are black, some people are brown.  Some people are…peach, I think.



1st grader: Did you know if you put your pencil pointing up it means you hate God.



1st grade boy: I’m not wearing skin. [points to scrape on knee]



2nd grader [trying to read the name “Chloe.”] Kuh-low…Kuh-low.  What a weird name.

Me: It’s actually pronounced Chloe.

Other 2nd grader: EL CHINO NIÑO.

Me: No.



2nd grader [to other 2nd grader]: Cholo!

Me: Don’t say that!

2nd grader: What?  But he said he is one.  Aren’t you?”

Other 2nd grader: Yes.

Me: Well, no name calling.

On Tuesdays we Wear Orange


I have begun coordinating my outfit with a group of five 1st grade boys.  It started when one day we dressed in an accidental rainbow.  Yesterday we agreed that today’s color would be orange.  I don’t know if it’s because of their little 8 year old memories, or because their hearts just weren’t in it like mine, but only one remembered.  We agreed to wear rainbow tomorrow, so we’ll see.


Real World: Provo


I had a lovely Portland vacation for spring break and now I am back in How-to-Get-Married-and-Have-a-Cute-Family-Before-You’re-25 land, otherwise known as Provo.  Home?  Can I call it home?  Visiting Portland made me realize that Utah gives me this sense of unbelonging.  It could just be my hormones, but the minute I stepped off the plane, I realized: I DON’T LIKE UTAH.

In Portland I drank freely–coffee, alcohol, and other alcohol.  Happy hours galore with sunshine patios and cutesy little $4 cocktails called huckleberry gimlets and juniper martinis.  Somehow, I doubt that ABG’s on Center Street will be able to offer me the same.  I said my goodbyes to alcohol at the PDX airport, while listening to a lesbian and her friend discussing her younger lover, the age difference of a 2nd grader.  Not much of that happening in Provo either.  Living in Provo made me forget that people could have same sex lovers!  There were multiple times when I found myself people watching in Portland–he’s probably bringing flowers to his gf…oh two girls on a skateboard means friendship, how nice.  My best friend Brittany had to call me out on it.  The flowers could be for his boyfriend!  Those girls could be on a date!

I am so used to pretending to be Mormon.  When people talk about “Conference Saturday” and tithing and the temple, I’m just kind of like Yeah.  Me too. Sure.  When I coo over cute baby toys at work, people ask if I have a boyfriend.  As if that is the logical timeline.  Boyfriend…husband…baby…baby toys!

I guess I am just tired of this little bubble.

So now I am left with two questions.  What will I do next (after Provo)?

And, will I ever live in a place that makes my hair look good??



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