Every dead person I know rests in Nephi. Okay, there are a few exceptions. But every dead person who I would deliver flowers to on Memorial Day rest in Nephi. So, there is one exception, and he rests in Moroni, which isn’t that different than Nephi. And, unless I’m with my mom, I’m probably not delivering flowers to anyone. But that isn’t the point. The point is, one day, I want to be one of those people. Not the flower delivering people, the other people, the dead people in Nephi.
Ever since I can remember, my parents have discussed where they are going to be buried. No, not as in what town they will be buried in, but where in the Nephi City Cemetery will they be buried. They both grew up in Nephi, and they both have family plots in the cemetery there. My mom always says they should be buried with her family, because the Hall family plot is at the top of the cemetery, where fewer cars drive, and it is shadier. She thinks it seems more pleasant to be in a quieter part of the cemetery. The Ostler family plot is closer to the center of the cemetery, and it is by as major of an intersection as there is in a cemetery. I don’t remember for sure, but it seems like the roads in the cemetery are dirt, so being by such a busy road might make the area too dusty for her final resting place. It makes sense to choose your burial plot using the same criteria you would use for choosing where to build a house, right?
It is odd to think about where you are going to be buried. I went through a phase where I was very concerned about where I was going to be buried. I was in my mid twenties, living by myself in Denver, and I would drive by a huge cemetery almost every day. It was very close to the Casket Mart, Discount Cremation, and other death-centric stores. I got very worried that if for some reason I died when I was living in Denver, I would get buried in this huge cemetery, and everyone would forget about me, and no one would come and visit me. It would be like one of those movies where the girl is taking flowers to her mother’s grave, and notices a crumbling headstone with weeds growing over it. She takes it upon herself to pull the weeds, wipe off the grime, and care for the headstone herself, purely because she feels such pity for the lonely soul buried below. You haven’t seen that movie? I’m not sure I’ve actually seen that movie either, but I’m sure it’s out there. Or it will be…when my blog gets made into a movie.
My mother, being the good mother that she is, calmed my fears by telling me that obviously I would be buried in Nephi. I have taken comfort in knowing that I will end up surrounded by friends and family,…that is until last week. Over the past few weeks, there has been some discussion about how each family will be allocating the plots. While discussing this with his brother, my dad had to concede that he will probably be buried up with the Hall’s. My mom had to call someone in her family to determine how many plots are left in the Hall section. There are eleven. She was telling me this on the phone and was going through the list of people who are quite possibly planning on being buried there. The list was long. Very long. With people I hadn’t even heard of before.
By the time she was finished, I was starting to worry that my place in the family plot was not secure. I voiced this concern to her thinking that my mother, being the good mother that she is, would calm my fears and tell me that obviously there would be room for me. Well, she didn’t exactly say that. She did offer to let me be cremated and placed on top of her headstone. What!? Now I am being forced to be cremated? Just because I might outlive eleven other people? This is totally unfair!! Two of the eleven spots are really already spoken for. And then, you add my parents onto that, and that makes four already taken, so there are only seven left. That isn’t very many. There should be some contest to allocate the remaining spots. I could study up on my family history and win a game of Ancestry Jeopardy, thereby guaranteeing me a spot in the family plot.
I guess technically there already is a contest. A race to the “finish”, if you will. But that leaves the questions, if I get there first, does that make me the winner or the loser?
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
Are You Smarter Than a Homeless Person?
Let me start off by saying, I own a home. One word that no one ever uses to describe me is homeless. This alone should be enough to say that I've got some smarts. And, I think most people would assume that I have got more smarts than the average homeless person. Prior to this weekend, I would have agreed with those people.
On Thursday afternoon, I arrived in the Oakland airport, and proceeded to find the Air BART that would take me to the BART that would take me to San Francisco. I did my research. I knew how to get from airport to hotel. I was prepared. And, I was prepared because I am smart.
I got off the BART, and looked around and felt slightly overwhelmed when a homeless man approached me and asked me where I was going. I told him, and he pulled out a map and directed me on how to get there. Good thing Maren was with me because I was out of small bills and didn't have any money to give him. He was very helpful, and very smart. He was offering a needed service at a very reasonable price. That price being free for me...sorry Maren.
I had quite a few things planned while in San Francisco, and so again, I planned ahead, and looked up how to get where I needed to go using the public transportation available to me. The first night, it worked out pretty well. We got on the right bus, made it to Alcatraz, no problem. Well, just one problem...neither Maren nor I had exact change, so we ended up spending an extra dollar on bus fare than we needed to. On this bus, there was a smelly guy who got on right after we did. He spent the bus ride talking to himself. I also noticed that he didn't have very many teeth. A minute after he sat down, he stood back up and asked the driver for a transfer, and the driver handed him a transfer ticket.
We got back to our hotel later that night by just taking the same bus route but in the opposite direction. Again, no problem, other than the "exact change" sign still alluded us, so another dollar was lost.
I was feeling like a pro. I could get anywhere in this city. Maren figured out how to buy a Muni pass, so our exact change problem was solved. I was ready to go. And then, everything fell apart. No buses came when they were supposed to, the cable cars were always full, and we spent a lot of time walking around looking for the right bus stop (for buses that never came).
While riding on a bus that I hoped was going to drop me off somewhere close to my hotel, I saw a homeless guy on the bus who wasn't wearing any shoes. He pulled the cord for the stop he wanted and got off the bus.
How is this possible? On two separate occasions, I saw homeless people navigating a public transportation system that I could not for the life of me figure out. I am a college graduate, I have a CPA license, and above all, I have a home! I was being schooled in the field of public transportation by people who didn't have the know how to put on a pair of shoes or brush their teeth. This is not fair. How can I not be smarter than a homeless person? They can get on and off the bus at the appropriate stops, they have the right amount of money, they know how to transfer to a new bus...free of charge!!!! I can do none of this!!! I guess I will just have to take comfort that my teeth get brushed at least twice a day, and I definitely know how to put on shoes. Maybe I have to give these things up in order for the public transportation secrets to be made known to me. I'm not sure it's worth it.
On Thursday afternoon, I arrived in the Oakland airport, and proceeded to find the Air BART that would take me to the BART that would take me to San Francisco. I did my research. I knew how to get from airport to hotel. I was prepared. And, I was prepared because I am smart.
I got off the BART, and looked around and felt slightly overwhelmed when a homeless man approached me and asked me where I was going. I told him, and he pulled out a map and directed me on how to get there. Good thing Maren was with me because I was out of small bills and didn't have any money to give him. He was very helpful, and very smart. He was offering a needed service at a very reasonable price. That price being free for me...sorry Maren.
I had quite a few things planned while in San Francisco, and so again, I planned ahead, and looked up how to get where I needed to go using the public transportation available to me. The first night, it worked out pretty well. We got on the right bus, made it to Alcatraz, no problem. Well, just one problem...neither Maren nor I had exact change, so we ended up spending an extra dollar on bus fare than we needed to. On this bus, there was a smelly guy who got on right after we did. He spent the bus ride talking to himself. I also noticed that he didn't have very many teeth. A minute after he sat down, he stood back up and asked the driver for a transfer, and the driver handed him a transfer ticket.
We got back to our hotel later that night by just taking the same bus route but in the opposite direction. Again, no problem, other than the "exact change" sign still alluded us, so another dollar was lost.
I was feeling like a pro. I could get anywhere in this city. Maren figured out how to buy a Muni pass, so our exact change problem was solved. I was ready to go. And then, everything fell apart. No buses came when they were supposed to, the cable cars were always full, and we spent a lot of time walking around looking for the right bus stop (for buses that never came).
While riding on a bus that I hoped was going to drop me off somewhere close to my hotel, I saw a homeless guy on the bus who wasn't wearing any shoes. He pulled the cord for the stop he wanted and got off the bus.
How is this possible? On two separate occasions, I saw homeless people navigating a public transportation system that I could not for the life of me figure out. I am a college graduate, I have a CPA license, and above all, I have a home! I was being schooled in the field of public transportation by people who didn't have the know how to put on a pair of shoes or brush their teeth. This is not fair. How can I not be smarter than a homeless person? They can get on and off the bus at the appropriate stops, they have the right amount of money, they know how to transfer to a new bus...free of charge!!!! I can do none of this!!! I guess I will just have to take comfort that my teeth get brushed at least twice a day, and I definitely know how to put on shoes. Maybe I have to give these things up in order for the public transportation secrets to be made known to me. I'm not sure it's worth it.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Queen of Quarters
Find a penny, pick it up, all day long you'll have good luck. I think this could be my mantra. I should chant this while meditating. I guess in reality, my mantra should be "Find a quarter, pick it up...". This isn't because I feel unlucky, I just really, really like change, specifically silver change, and more specifically, quarters.
When I was kid, my parents owned a laundromat. Every Monday morning they would count all the quarters from the week before. They had to put all the quarters into $10 rolls. The number of times that the total amount of quarters came out to exactly a multiple of ten was pretty much never. The left over quarters stayed in "the tray" and became my spending money during the week. The weeks when there was $9.25 left over were awesome! I could ride my bike to Fast Eddies for penny candy, I could go to the BYU creamery with my friends for ice cream, and I could buy a cup of Kool-Aid from my neighbor's lemonade stand. Not all weeks were $9.25 weeks, sometimes there were weeks with only $1.50 left in quarters. Oh, the horror. During those weeks, I had to resort to using the meager amount of dimes and nickles leftover in the tray, or just play with my friends at the park, eat Popsicles out of the freezer, and use my imagination to keep me entertained. Times could be rough.
My love of quarters has only intensified as I have gotten older. In fact, it has caused me to do a few things that could be seen as possibly unseemly. Don't worry, its not like I'm involved in a secret underground quarter collecting society or anything. And, I'm not involved in an above ground quarter collecting society either. It's just, I'll do just about anything for quarters. I will pick up a quarter from the restroom floor at my gym. I won't even let my bare feet touch the floor when I'm changing my clothes at the gym, but I will put a bathroom floor quarter in my pocket, and I'll be excited about it. And, my friend Jen knows that four dollars in quarters will get me to do pretty much anything, (which sometimes leads to Hot Latin heartbreak).
Loose change is not safe around me. I'm serious! Do not leave spare change unguarded around me. I was in a friend's car a few months ago, and he was running into the store or something. I stayed in the car, and while he was gone, I obviously needed to find some "gum", right? I looked in the middle console, and what did I find? Gum. But, in the ashtray, jackpot! Full of change. I didn't take all of it. That would have been totally obvious. If I had taken all of it, when I got out of the car, my pockets and purse would have been jingling. I am way more sneaky than that. I probably took about $1.50 in quarters. But, I did fill up the coin slots in the middle console, so he would have easier access to change when needed. I think that was totally worth $1.50. In fact, he probably owes me about fifty cents, because I think it was at least $2.00 in effort.
I re-watched one of my favorite movies last weekend, and I had an epiphany! My love of quarters can be channelled into something positive. I am no longer going to let my love of quarters compromise my hygiene or turn me into a thief. I can turn this destructive quarter behavior into something positive....a video game world record! "King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters" is quite possibly one of the best movies ever made. I love love love it, and it has inspired me to channel my passion into something positive. This could change my life. I think I could have a shot at being the Master of Miss Pac Man. But, let this be a warning to everyone, do not leave your quarters unattended. Quarters are no longer just a want, now they are a need to help me attain my goal. And to accomplish a goal, theft is totally justifiable.
When I was kid, my parents owned a laundromat. Every Monday morning they would count all the quarters from the week before. They had to put all the quarters into $10 rolls. The number of times that the total amount of quarters came out to exactly a multiple of ten was pretty much never. The left over quarters stayed in "the tray" and became my spending money during the week. The weeks when there was $9.25 left over were awesome! I could ride my bike to Fast Eddies for penny candy, I could go to the BYU creamery with my friends for ice cream, and I could buy a cup of Kool-Aid from my neighbor's lemonade stand. Not all weeks were $9.25 weeks, sometimes there were weeks with only $1.50 left in quarters. Oh, the horror. During those weeks, I had to resort to using the meager amount of dimes and nickles leftover in the tray, or just play with my friends at the park, eat Popsicles out of the freezer, and use my imagination to keep me entertained. Times could be rough.
My love of quarters has only intensified as I have gotten older. In fact, it has caused me to do a few things that could be seen as possibly unseemly. Don't worry, its not like I'm involved in a secret underground quarter collecting society or anything. And, I'm not involved in an above ground quarter collecting society either. It's just, I'll do just about anything for quarters. I will pick up a quarter from the restroom floor at my gym. I won't even let my bare feet touch the floor when I'm changing my clothes at the gym, but I will put a bathroom floor quarter in my pocket, and I'll be excited about it. And, my friend Jen knows that four dollars in quarters will get me to do pretty much anything, (which sometimes leads to Hot Latin heartbreak).
Loose change is not safe around me. I'm serious! Do not leave spare change unguarded around me. I was in a friend's car a few months ago, and he was running into the store or something. I stayed in the car, and while he was gone, I obviously needed to find some "gum", right? I looked in the middle console, and what did I find? Gum. But, in the ashtray, jackpot! Full of change. I didn't take all of it. That would have been totally obvious. If I had taken all of it, when I got out of the car, my pockets and purse would have been jingling. I am way more sneaky than that. I probably took about $1.50 in quarters. But, I did fill up the coin slots in the middle console, so he would have easier access to change when needed. I think that was totally worth $1.50. In fact, he probably owes me about fifty cents, because I think it was at least $2.00 in effort.
I re-watched one of my favorite movies last weekend, and I had an epiphany! My love of quarters can be channelled into something positive. I am no longer going to let my love of quarters compromise my hygiene or turn me into a thief. I can turn this destructive quarter behavior into something positive....a video game world record! "King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters" is quite possibly one of the best movies ever made. I love love love it, and it has inspired me to channel my passion into something positive. This could change my life. I think I could have a shot at being the Master of Miss Pac Man. But, let this be a warning to everyone, do not leave your quarters unattended. Quarters are no longer just a want, now they are a need to help me attain my goal. And to accomplish a goal, theft is totally justifiable.
Monday, March 29, 2010
The Real World
Currently, my life is being overcome with all things "fake".
Yesterday was the last day of Lent. For the last 40 days I have been a fake Catholic. And, I was a pretty good fake Catholic, if I do say so myself. I gave up the elevator this year, and I didn't cheat, at all. And what I mean by that is I didn't take the elevator until Friday. Which is technically two days before the end of Lent, but the first time I took the elevator, there was no other option. After I was forced to take the elevator on Friday, I figured Saturday was free game. Anyway, fake Lent went well, and I have given up my days of being a fake Catholic until next year.
I have been spending an exorbitant amount of time with my fake family lately. We eat dinner together every night, Monday through Thursday, at our fake dinner table. Luckily, the fake dinner table will again be the conference table and my fake family will become just co-workers on April 15th (April 14th if I'm lucky). Along this line of reasoning, I think my fake Dad is punishing me for some reason because he won't give me my fake allowance. Fake allowance isn't nearly as fun as a real allowance. You have to spend money, then submit it on an expense report in order to collect a fake allowance. Mine is currently three months late, and I think I might start some sort of a fake rebellion until I get the check.
I have a fake boyfriend. Actually, I have multiple fake boyfriends, but don't worry, they all know about each other. If you don't know what this means, you are obviously not single. Fake boyfriends are either boys you go on fake dates with but nothing else, or the reverse of that. Interpret as you will. I scheduled a fake date for April 17th with one of my fake boyfriends. He should be excited. It's gonna be fun. Should I be worried, that fake dating and fake boyfriends will turn into a fake husband? I'm not even sure what that would be. Hmmm...
I need something to ground me in reality. I always said that for my 30th birthday, I was going to get something fake. Luckily I didn't, or it would just be another thing to add to my fake life. But who knows, my life might be so grounded in reality by age 35 that I will need something fake just to keep things interesting.
Yesterday was the last day of Lent. For the last 40 days I have been a fake Catholic. And, I was a pretty good fake Catholic, if I do say so myself. I gave up the elevator this year, and I didn't cheat, at all. And what I mean by that is I didn't take the elevator until Friday. Which is technically two days before the end of Lent, but the first time I took the elevator, there was no other option. After I was forced to take the elevator on Friday, I figured Saturday was free game. Anyway, fake Lent went well, and I have given up my days of being a fake Catholic until next year.
I have been spending an exorbitant amount of time with my fake family lately. We eat dinner together every night, Monday through Thursday, at our fake dinner table. Luckily, the fake dinner table will again be the conference table and my fake family will become just co-workers on April 15th (April 14th if I'm lucky). Along this line of reasoning, I think my fake Dad is punishing me for some reason because he won't give me my fake allowance. Fake allowance isn't nearly as fun as a real allowance. You have to spend money, then submit it on an expense report in order to collect a fake allowance. Mine is currently three months late, and I think I might start some sort of a fake rebellion until I get the check.
I have a fake boyfriend. Actually, I have multiple fake boyfriends, but don't worry, they all know about each other. If you don't know what this means, you are obviously not single. Fake boyfriends are either boys you go on fake dates with but nothing else, or the reverse of that. Interpret as you will. I scheduled a fake date for April 17th with one of my fake boyfriends. He should be excited. It's gonna be fun. Should I be worried, that fake dating and fake boyfriends will turn into a fake husband? I'm not even sure what that would be. Hmmm...
I need something to ground me in reality. I always said that for my 30th birthday, I was going to get something fake. Luckily I didn't, or it would just be another thing to add to my fake life. But who knows, my life might be so grounded in reality by age 35 that I will need something fake just to keep things interesting.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
The List
As a thirty year old single woman, I have had quite a bit of time to shape my "list". Every single girl has a list; we all want someone who is smart & funny & understanding & kind, etc. etc. etc. My particular list has some unique items on it.
When I was a freshman in college (and pretty much through my junior year), I dated a boy who I thought I could marry. As things were coming to a close, I knew it wasn't going to work out when I asked him what his favorite restaurant was. His response was Sconecutter. Sconecutter. Yep, Sconecutter...as his very favorite restaurant. I knew it was over. And onto my "list" went "#1: Good taste in food (not a picky eater)."
Recently, this item has softened a bit, and perhaps become less important. But, there is an item on my list that will never change in importance. It is a major issue and will never move out of the top three. No, it's not money, religion, or age. It is cats. Any man who likes cats enough to want to own one, ever, is automatically off my list. I prefer someone who hates cats, but I would take someone who just dislikes them enough that there is a guarantee he will never own one.
***Side note: Freshman boyfriend really liked, even loved, cats. I should have known from the get go it wasn't going to work. This would have saved some heartache and tears (that were plentiful) after our three-ish year relationship ended.***
The other day I was playing a little game of "would you rather". You know the game. It's the one where you have two absurd options, and you have to pick the one "you would rather" have happen. The question came up of "would you rather marry someone who had a cat or someone who was illiterate?" I didn't even have to think before answering. I would obviously rather marry someone who was illiterate. Really. I would.
Some of you may say that this is crazy or illogical. But I disagree. I love to read, and I think I could teach someone not only to read, but to love to read. I would totally be a hero! I would be improving someone's life by leaps and bounds. He would appreciate me forever. I would have given him the gift of literacy! See, only good things would come from me marrying someone who is illiterate.
On the other hand, how do you teach someone to hate cats? I would be a villain, and he would resent me every time he saw a cat. He would reprimand me for swerving my car to hit a street crossing cat. (Relax, I'm kidding.) Only bad things can come from being involved with a cat lover.
I think I would have a more successful dating life it I start passing out my "list" to potential mates.
1. Hates cats
2. Weighs more than me
3. Likes to travel
4. Will wash my car
5. Illiterate
Sadly, my perfect match won't be able to read it.
When I was a freshman in college (and pretty much through my junior year), I dated a boy who I thought I could marry. As things were coming to a close, I knew it wasn't going to work out when I asked him what his favorite restaurant was. His response was Sconecutter. Sconecutter. Yep, Sconecutter...as his very favorite restaurant. I knew it was over. And onto my "list" went "#1: Good taste in food (not a picky eater)."
Recently, this item has softened a bit, and perhaps become less important. But, there is an item on my list that will never change in importance. It is a major issue and will never move out of the top three. No, it's not money, religion, or age. It is cats. Any man who likes cats enough to want to own one, ever, is automatically off my list. I prefer someone who hates cats, but I would take someone who just dislikes them enough that there is a guarantee he will never own one.
***Side note: Freshman boyfriend really liked, even loved, cats. I should have known from the get go it wasn't going to work. This would have saved some heartache and tears (that were plentiful) after our three-ish year relationship ended.***
The other day I was playing a little game of "would you rather". You know the game. It's the one where you have two absurd options, and you have to pick the one "you would rather" have happen. The question came up of "would you rather marry someone who had a cat or someone who was illiterate?" I didn't even have to think before answering. I would obviously rather marry someone who was illiterate. Really. I would.
Some of you may say that this is crazy or illogical. But I disagree. I love to read, and I think I could teach someone not only to read, but to love to read. I would totally be a hero! I would be improving someone's life by leaps and bounds. He would appreciate me forever. I would have given him the gift of literacy! See, only good things would come from me marrying someone who is illiterate.
On the other hand, how do you teach someone to hate cats? I would be a villain, and he would resent me every time he saw a cat. He would reprimand me for swerving my car to hit a street crossing cat. (Relax, I'm kidding.) Only bad things can come from being involved with a cat lover.
I think I would have a more successful dating life it I start passing out my "list" to potential mates.
1. Hates cats
2. Weighs more than me
3. Likes to travel
4. Will wash my car
5. Illiterate
Sadly, my perfect match won't be able to read it.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Going Postal
A couple of weeks ago, I was meeting with my boss about my yearly goals. One of my goals is to increase my network of female professionals to potentially drive referral clients. I admit that I am not that thrilled about this goal, and when I completed my outline of goals, this one only begrudgingly made the list. It was actually a "suggested" goal from my boss that I typed up based on his hand written notes. When I was typing it, I must not have been paying too much attention because for some reason, female was spelled femail. I didn't notice until my boss circled it and started laughing hysterically. Yes, hysteria, over femail vs. female. Maybe I was trying to increase my network of female mail carriers, and I was abbreviating with femail. Just wait until I am the "go to" tax girl for all mail women. Who will be laughing then?
Friday, November 20, 2009
Conclusions
Because I enjoy popsicles, I may also enjoy snowcones. (logical and true)
Because I enjoyed Felicity, I may also enjoy Gossip Girl. (logical and true)
Because I enjoy chocolate cake, I may also enjoy chocolate ice cream. (logical but not true)
There are certain conclusions you can draw about people based on their known likes and dislikes. Netflix does this. Based on my movie preferences, they (Netflix) told me the following:
Because I enjoyed Pretty Woman, I may also enjoy The Little Mermaid.
Huh? Because I enjoyed a movie about an unconventional prosititute, I will also enjoy an animated movie about a mermaid who defies her father because she is in love with a human prince.
Completely illogical.
But true.
It's like Netflix can see directly into my soul.
Because I enjoyed Felicity, I may also enjoy Gossip Girl. (logical and true)
Because I enjoy chocolate cake, I may also enjoy chocolate ice cream. (logical but not true)
There are certain conclusions you can draw about people based on their known likes and dislikes. Netflix does this. Based on my movie preferences, they (Netflix) told me the following:
Because I enjoyed Pretty Woman, I may also enjoy The Little Mermaid.
Huh? Because I enjoyed a movie about an unconventional prosititute, I will also enjoy an animated movie about a mermaid who defies her father because she is in love with a human prince.
Completely illogical.
But true.
It's like Netflix can see directly into my soul.
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