Our Very First “Ask”

In Utah, there is a strong tradition (like decades old) for the way one would ask another to a high school dance.  When I first heard of this, I thought: oh, like when Ian asked me to Homecoming at a pep rally that one time senior year. No. The point is not to ask that special someone with a somewhat romantic gesture in hopes that she’ll say yes and you’ll get lucky. No. in Utah, it is elaborate, expensive, obnoxious, at times gross and ultimately hilarious.

For the last three years, the Elyse White Foundation has put on a Pink Prom benefiting the Huntsman Cancer Research and Foundation.  So Emily asked us if we wanted to go. Sure! It’s a few days after my birthday, and I want to save boobies so let’s do it! Jim: I hated my prom, why would I go to this one?

No biggie, I’ll go solo!

Last night as Jim is hammering a nail into the wall to hang our AWESOME engagement photos, our doorbell rings.  Now, he’s hammering right where the doorbell is so for a second we think we’ve lodged a nail right into the wires making it go berserk. Jim opens the door, hammer in hand, to find no one. Then he looks down. There is a cat litter box full of what appears to be cat poop. He brings it in and we both think the same thing: our neighbors are fed up with Dexter pooping in their gardens and we are getting a death threat. But, the cat box smells...really good! Then we notice the note:

It hits me right away because Emily has written an awesome paper on this odd Utah tradition so I tell Jim: I think they are “asking” us to prom! We dig through the mess and sure enough, there are the names of the culprits: Tony, Michelle, Matt, Emily and Dawn Marie. Wait, what the hell is my name in there for? Apparently, since I wanted to go to Prom, this “ask” is for Jim only.

Oh, another part of the tradition? The askee must “answer”. What? So now we need to find an equally obnoxious way to tell them yes or no. Jim is silent for nearly thirty minutes. Jim’s never heard of this “asking” so you can imagine how an academic overachiever deals with the unknown. Finally, he says: what if we answered with…

Muahahahahaha!

For more photos, check out the story of the “Ask” here.

They Say it’s Your Birthday

Yesterday was Jim’s birthday (yay!) and so we celebrated for nearly a week straight and I think I’ve gained fifty pounds but whatever. But last night was just us. We went to The Copper Onion and then to see the movie, I Love You Phillip Morris.

The Copper Onion was fabulous, a high end twist on comfort food can never be wrong. And neither can a $25 bottle of Chardonnay, right? I just loved our waitress too. She had two piercings in her face, was that heroin chic kind of skinny but knew more about Shishito Peppers than you can imagine.

I Love You Phillip Morris or, “the gay Catch me if You Can” as Jim called it was also fabulous. I think I smiled the entire time. It was funny, it was romantic, it got sad, but then it got funny again. And, this film right here is how you “ease in” gay romance in main stream film. The intimate parts were beautiful. It wasn’t shocking like Brokeback Mountain, but rather underplayed and very, very sweet. It was romance that anyone, straight or gay could relate to.

He can’t end his birthday without one more Jimism so here goes: when we get home I give him his last birthday gift. A very cute Hallmark and....drum roll…a Dremel! Yawn, but it was what he wanted…I think. Anyway, after getting excited about it, plugging it in, pulling the trigger, putting it back carefully in its cardboard box he kisses me on the cheek and says, “thanks, baby you’re the best.  And don’t go pretending to die from AIDS on me now that you know how.”

(Sidenote: you’ll have to know the story behind I Love You Phillip Morris in order to understand that Jimism – Google: “Steven Jay Russell”.)

A bit of inspiration…

Last night I started my Science Methods class (where we learn how to teach science to kiddos).  Is it safe to say that I had my first teacher-crush moment since Mr. Schlaak, the Psychology/Spanish teacher in high school? It’s not that my teacher was good looking really (neither was my high school teacher), it’s that he inspired me to a point where I had some dumb, love sick-puppy look on my face the entire two hours and thirty minutes.

First, the man is incredibly credible. 15 years experience in any kind of science and math education you could think of; from elementary school to a government position.  Second, he STARTED his own Science focused charter school! Hello!? I would KILL to teach there when I grow up! Third, he seems to respect the enormous amount of religion and faith in this state but believes it has NO business in a science class.

At one point during last night’s class he said, “raise your hand if you have ever had a lights out-amazing teacher?” Nearly everyone raised their hands.  “Now, keep them raised if you have had more than one? More than two? Three?” And as you might expect, hands went down drastically. “So,” he says “they say you have about 40-60 teachers in your life depending on how far you go in your education, and there are about 40-50 of you here tonight. I would say that based on scientific evidence, most of you won’t be lights-out amazing teachers. In fact, many of you shouldn’t really be in this profession.” Ouch. True, but ouch! Then he says, “being a likeable person is easy, and something your born with. But being good at something, that takes intent. And the way I see it is, I have 16 weeks to teach you that.” Swoon!

I’d like to take this moment to thank the “lights-out amazing” teachers I have had. I feel very lucky that my hand never went down last night, I truly  have had some really good ones in my life time.

Ms. Tinsley – Kindergarten teacher

Ms. Bissell – Fourth grade teacher

Mr. Bonnell – High school English teacher

Ms. Dougherty – High school biotech teacher

Mr. Schlaak – mentioned above

Professor Eichler – SDSU social work department

Dr. Hohman – SDSU social work department

Dr. Swan – U of U education department

Dr. Butcher – U of U education department

and

Professor O’Brian – U of U education department

Crossfit

I couldn’t even come up with a catchy title for this one. I am still that dead inside.

At the recommendation of a few friends, I went to Ute Crossfit last night for a free introductory class.  I’ve managed to hit my wedding weight loss goal but am still very unsatisfied with the amount of me that jiggles when I walk so I thought: maybe I need a personal trainer? At nearly $100 a week? No thanks.

Since I really suck at self discipline, my friend Jerilyn told me about the team atmosphere at Crossfit and so I made it my New Year’s Resolution to try it out.

So, I show up and there are four other people at this free introductory class. All of which seem rather healthy, fit and are somewhat my age (youngest was 22 and the oldest was mid forties but whatever).  After Tommy, the owner goes on and on about what Crossfit means (it is NOT a get fit quick program, mind you!) and what to expect (do not expect to look like a body builder!), he gave us a taste of what a workout would be like.

500 meters of rowing

40 squats

30 sit ups

20 pushups

10 pull ups

All TIMED.

I come in last. Dead last. At 7 minutes and 18 seconds and I am nearly vomiting. Seriously. I even did cheater pushups and cheater pull ups! What the hell? I’ve been to spinning class at least once a week for the last year almost…why am I this out of shape???  The “rant” that I reference above?  Tommy is so dead on.  This workout is geared toward endurance and strength and will rock every aspect of your body in different ways each time.  It is practically a lifestyle change (I will not be giving up beer and french fries, but plan on making this a 3-4 time a week gig for me).

As I try, very hard, to not vomit on the gym floor I tell one of the trainers, “you are NOT selling this to me. I feel like hell.” He laughs, “I felt that way at first too, but I promise you: you’ll get in your car, calm down and say to yourself, ‘next time I will do it faster’.”

I get home, still trying to not vomit and Jim cannot believe how worn out I look.  He tells me to take a hot shower (totally helped), and while I was in the shower I thought: that wasn’t that bad! Jim gives me a hug later on and says, “it’s really kind of sexy how hard you worked out.” I signed up for boot camp this morning.

The Robbery That Keeps on Giving

So over the last few days Jim realized that his new-ish, nice-ish ski goggles were missing. And I noticed that one of my favorite purses (le sport sac) was missing.  Ahhh, Robbery.  But yesterday, I received a package on my doorstep from my dear friend Emily.  Inside was a bunch of costume jewelry (since I have to start from scratch there), an adorable card, and a CD with literally hundreds of photos from the last 5 years on it.  The photos just cracked me up…so I thought I would share. (sidenote - one of the photos had a shot of my beloved le sport sac which made me sad)

BUT: no one wants to see good pictures on a blog, they want to see embarrassing pictures on a blog! Here we go!

I don't think much explaining is needed here...but we did have fun!

I think I look rather good in this one...Stacey is a different story...

Check out the gum in Mark's mouth, hahaha!

NOT my finest hour. I think we did this on purpose?

This isn't me. I swear. But it is funny, right?

I don't know if you can tell, but this is my Costco card in which I look like a toothless hobo.

I literally use this as my party trick. Or, having a bad day? I whip this baby out and the laughter just comes natrually.

Teehee, they just got married :)

And this, this is the man I am going to marry.

I don’t even want to say what I am thinking for fear that it will confirm that I am an awful person.

Happy New Year! I had a great new year’s weekend because my friend Megan and her sister Sara were in town (their husbands were here too but you know I really just care about them). 

On a slightly hung over and very tired-cause-I-went-to-bed-at-4-AM New Year’s Day we decided to spend a whopping $1.75 and see the movie Red at the local B-list movie theater.  Red is that flick where Bruce Willis (how dumb is Demi to let that one go?) plays a retired CIA agent who is now on a hit list. It also has a great performance by John Malkovich and stars Nancy Botwin as the leading lady…love her. Anyway, aside from that, the movie was exactly good enough to make us not care that we parted with $1.75 and wasted 2 hours of our lives.

A what I thought was a young girl in front of us found the movie to be incredibly hilarious.  Throughout the film she was laughing very, very loudly and even stomped her feet at times.  I wish Google Blogs had sound bites that I could embed because I just don’t think I can describe the high pitched almost fake sounding laugh; but I am sure you can imagine.  Toward the very end of the movie, the laughing and feet stomping got so loud and frequent that Megan, Sara and I found ourselves cracking up as well.  As the ending credits are rolling, I am almost tempted to tell the girl that her laugh really made our experience. Almost.

She stands up, a solid 300 pounds, pigtails (on a grown woman NOT a young girl) and in a freaking Twilight T-shirt.  The three of us seem to have a silent “a-ha” moment and head for the exit.  A friend had texted me so I start to respond (yes, as I am walking out of the theater but the cattle herd is going so slowly it seems very appropriate).  The Twi-Hard is right behind me and literally talks very loudly, at me: “don’t you just love the people who can’t seem to wait until they are out of the movie theater before they begin texting and holding up the line?”

I am shocked. Totally shocked.  I am immediately transported to high school where one would find it appropriate to engage in such behavior.  The women who read this know: this is a tactic a girl uses when she wants to lash out but doesn’t have the guts to say it to someone’s face but does have the comfort of sidekicks who will provide her with an obligatory laugh because they too are in on this form of cowardly bullying. So what do I do? I say (very loudly):

“I do! And don’t you just love when someone laughs incredibly loud throughout the entire movie ruining it for everyone?”

PlesTokTooBridget

I think that my 5 year old neighbor is going to end up ruling the world.  What I mean is: she is either going to become the doctor that cures cancer or, she is going to be a mad scientist and have us all under her (adorable) thumb.

Last night Jim and I went next door to give Bridget and her little sister Sam their Christmas gifts.  We got them matching, handmade knit caps with adorable flowers on the front (a la Blossom!).  They fit perfectly and how the two only children in the world who actually like to wear hats are sisters is beyond me.  They loved them!

Anyway, their dad is a stay at home dad (and should win parent of the year as well as publish a best selling parenting book...yes, he is that awesome) likes to engage in adult conversation when we come over.  Not the type of adult conversation that requires ear-muffs, but the kind of conversation where after being with children all day long you can talk with a normal pitch voice and use multi-syllabic words.  Bridget has been taught fabulous manners (by her fabulous parents) and knows to wait her turn to talk.  Well, she decided that she had enough of the adult banter that she couldn't participate in and hands me her giant etch a sketch that read:

"Ples Tok Too Bridget"

And had a picture of a big pacman looking character and a small pacman looking character chatting away.

That was it, adult conversation over. We were putty in her hands; even dad.  

An Atheist, a Mormon and a Gay Guy walk into a bar…

A few nights ago we attended a girlfriend’s 30th birthday celebration.  Not a big party or anything.  There were less than ten of us sitting around drinking beers and eating brownies and other goodies at a friend’s house. 

Two guys come in who are friends of the birthday girl by way of childhood friendship with her (atheist) beau.  One of the men I think I’ve met before but not sure where, and the other I *think* might be gay…but my self-proclaimed California Gay-Dar isn’t as good as I might tell others it is.  As introductions are made, the birthday girl mentions that the familiar looking guy is mormon.  “Oh, I remember you now.” Um, open mouth, insert foot.  “Uh, not that being mormon defines you, I just remember you didn’t drink.” Seriously?  What the hell is my problem? 

Not a problem at all.  The 10 of us spent the evening drinking beers (or soda), and cracking up like we were all old friends. (Sidenote: don’t you just love when the celebration of an awesome person brings nothing but awesome people? Like, it just confirms that our birthday girl friend is so amazing that all of these really cool people come out for her). Anyway, the conversation includes tales from when the atheist and the mormon were on their mission together, cracks at the birthday girl who is starting to get tipsy, and various NSFW comments and laughter.

Then we head to the bar.  The same thing occurs there: more beer (and some water) drinking, more hilarious conversation and more friendships forming.  The (gorgeous) might-be-gay man sits next to me and says, “so tell me about you!”  We immediately dive into deep conversation.  At one point he tells me that he went on his mission to try and “pray away the gay” to which I can barely contain my excitement and laughter (since you know how I feel about that).  Here I am, chatting with my new favorite person in SLC,  and our new mormon friend is making cracks about how the fact that our party is so large we need two separate tables and so he must find the more interesting conversation before he sits down.  “I’m getting a Coke, anyone want a beer?” he says.

This is how life should be.  Three childhood friends, three very different walks of life and one great evening.      

Jimism: I own my own house!

When I make my lunch in the morning, I used make a sandwich for Jim (that is until he decided he was A- a full blown vegetarian now and B- sick of cheese sandwiches).  One morning I asked him if he could remember to bring the baggy home cause Ziplocs are expensive and it is a waste to use one a day (oh and something about the environment). He looked at me like I was crazy and said, “Dawn, that’s what the poor kids did when I was growing up, I own my own house.”

A few weeks later I am getting ready for bed. I turn on the bedside table lamps for me and for Jim, snuggle in, and open my book.  Jim usually just locks all the doors and turns off the lights and is otherwise right behind me. When nearly 15 minutes pass by and he isn't in the room, I decide to see what is taking him so long.

I get up and go into the hallway. No lights are on. Jim does not appear to be in the house.  I look in the backyard. No Jim. No lights. (Sidenote: at this point in our relationship I had been in Utah less than a year, we just bought our home together, and I was still a little shaky as to what this all meant for our future). So, naturally I think to myself : what kind of creepy thing is this man doing? Maybe I should go back to sunny California (I know, totally rational).

Finally, I see what looks like the outline of Jim standing in our front yard (SLC has crappy street lighting), and so I open the door.  Jim turns around with a freaking Bud Light in his hand and walks up to the porch.  I am staring at him, my mouth wide open.  It is nearly eleven on a school night and here he is outside with a beer in his hand.  He looks at me and says, "what?" So, irrational Dawn steps in and says to rational Dawn: you've clearly driven him to drink in the front yard at eleven o'clock at night. What does this mean?  In 50 years will he be in his Man Shed cursing his nagging wife while the nagging wife sits on the couch watching Judge Judy?  GO BACK TO CALIFORNIA!

I follow him inside. "What do you mean, 'what'? Your standing in our front yard drinking a beer when you just told me you'd be right in to bed!" He says, "so what, it's my house." I follow him into the bedroom where he gets ready for bed. "What the HELL were you doing out there?" Finally, finally! He tells me: there were kids across the street who kept running into the shadows whenever a car came down the road.  So, since Jim owns his own house, he thought he'd crack a beer, pound on his chest and tell those goddamned kids to knock it off!

I love to tell friends this story and watch Jim take ownership.  He still says, "so what, it's my house!". Every time.

Reason to love SLC # 2

We have one of those famous Virgin Mary aberrations!

The story goes that in 1997 a city worker found an image of the Virgin in a tree stump that had been struck by lightning. As word spread, a stair case and makeshift memorial site was erected to accommodate the rush of worshippers coming to visit the site.

Even now, over ten years (and a substantial amount of vandalism) later, the site is always adorned with flowers, candles, prayers and usually a kneeler or two.  Read about it by clicking on the link below (also where the images are from)

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/310083/a_new_vision_the_amazing_transformation.html?cat=38

Here is an article in the SLC Tribune written in 2010

I don't consider myself religious, but there is something very cool about the devotion to this Virgin Stump that draws my attention to it.  I drive passed the tree every morning on the way to work, and even in the snow, wind and rain, there are candles lit and flowers strewn by some seriously devoted worshippers. Like, they must have been out there at 7 AM devoted.