A Love Hate Relationship

I mentioned a while back that I decided to take up golf. Now, almost two months later, I'm beginning to think I made a horrible mistake. Simply put, golf does strange things to me. First, I develop a great rage inside of me when I'm at the driving range, and desperately uncoordinated people, are able to, not only hit the ball straight, but farther than me. Last Saturday I almost followed an old Korean woman to her car to beat her over the head with my sand wedge. This is not normal.

Secondly, I talk to myself and not in a real "positive" way. Usually, when I work out, I think things like, "Man, you are doing great." Or "Gee, Kate you sure are pushing yourself." And sometimes when I ride my bike up a ridiculous incline I'll say, "Come on get up there." With golf, I think more things AND say things out loud like, "What are you a complete moron?" or "Geez, why don't you just take me behind the building and shoot me? I think that would be less painful." Again, not normal.

And lastly, I find myself doubting my whole athletic ability. Again, this usually starts with watching the crippled man pull himself out of his wheelchair to nail his ball 150 yards farther than mine. And then more doubt creeps in when my teacher calls me Kathy and snickers every time I slice the ball. Honestly, it takes me the entire ride home to remember I've had great moments in sports and this is not a real reflection of my overall coordination.

So, will I keep doing it? Stayed tuned. And if you hear of any random acts of violence at the Rancho Park Golf Course...it wasn't me.

Nah, Lbaaa, Lovvvee

The other night the husband and I celebrated our friend's birthday by participating in some good ol' karaoke fun.  I have to admit, initially, I was a little apprehensive about this adventure.  Don't get me wrong I enjoy singing off key in a confined room with relative strangers..I even thrive off it.  No, I was fearful I would reveal more "Kate Learning Disabilities."  (I actually don't know why I call them "learning disabilities" because I didn't learn how to be disabled in these parts of my life...So, I guess I'll just call them "disabilities."  But, then I don't want to make light of people with real disabilities (always got to think of my readers) so let's call them Kate-isms.)   Anyway, what was the Kate-ism I was referring to?

I never hear lyrics in songs.  I could listen to my favorite band everyday, and then if I was asked to sing the lyrics of one of their songs - I couldn't do it. It would come out like this: "A Little Ditty About Jack and Diane, two Amer nah, nah heartLAND."* (I'm usually pretty good with the first three words and then awesome with the last syllable.  Anything outside of that is pretty bad.) 

So, you can imagine my fear with karaoke.  Yes, the words are there, and theoretically, this should remedy my "performance problem."  However, the screen actually screws me up.  I become completely distracted watching these magical words appear, and realizing some of my favorite songs aren't about whales in the summer or midgets dancing.  It's like I'm understanding a foreign language for the first time.  It's overwhelming, and to be honest, quite deflating that a homemade video of motor-cross during AC/DC's "Shook Me All Night Long" could reveal so much.  

Anyway, the night actually was a lot of fun, and I don't think anyone really noticed the incoherent sounds I was making.  I think they were more mesmerized by my "mime dancing."  Emily Madsen will know what this means....I sort of like to act out my songs.  I know, difficult to do when you think they are about whales in the summer, but I make it work.

* John Mellencamp is not one of my favorite singers.  Just an example folks.

Oh, The Irony

As promised here's the story of one of the funniest experiences of my life.

When I got back from Mongolia I scored an awesome job with The United Way.  "Awesome" because, while at the United Way, I read all the Harry Potter books, surfed the internet and occasionally worked.  My prestigious work title was Executive Manager.  Basically, I had to manage individual fund-raising accounts for over 50 different businesses.  This meant I had to meet with each business, give a presentation on The United Way and collect the checks.  For three months I traveled around Salt Lake informing companies about the rising number of homeless people and the lack of shelters for battered women.  Speech after speech, I encouraged people to donate and help these destitute people.  

One day while coming back from a presentation I was driving the United Way car.  This car was donated by one of the companies on the board, and was completely decked out in United Way decal.  I'm talking United Way symbol across the hood of the car, people's faces along the doors and the mission statement on the back window.  Completely decked out.

Anyway, as I was approaching an intersection I saw a homeless man, who was carrying a large garbage bag over his shoulder, jay walking across the road I was about to cross.  Trying to be helpful, I honked at him and pointed to my green light.  As I passed him, he hawked the biggest pool of phlegm through my window and onto me.  Now, as gross as this story is, I can't help but laugh at the absurd irony of the experience.  Here I am out trying to help this guy get dinner and some shelter, and what does he do?  He spits on me.

Who Needs a Therapist I Have My Schnoodle

A couple of days ago I sent my resume to a job posting on craigslist.com.  Because of past experience I'm a little nervous to see what this job will really entail.  (Should I be worried when it said you need to have a background in refereeing wet t-shirt contests?)  

Anyway, the reason for my distrust is because of the worst job I ever had for three days.  I had just finished a job with the United Way of Salt Lake - which totally reminds me of the funniest experience of my life.  (See next entry for that story)  ANNNYWAAYY...I decided to go online and try to find another job.  I came across this "marketing" position and thought, "Hey, I was once a missionary and have an outstanding sense of humor - this would be perfect!"  So, like a total moron I sent my resume and within an hour I had a call from some gum chomping girl telling me to come in for an interview.  I should have known then that this was going to be an utter disaster, but I was only six months off the mission and still had that angelic belief in everyone and everything, so I went to the interview.  After fifteen minutes I was hired. Again, that should have been a clue for me to walk.

The next day I went to Ogden with a girl named Lauren who smoked the entire way and told me the objectives of the "company."  (Looking back I don't think any salesmen in the world had ever received such an extensive training.)  After inhaling an hour of second hand smoke, and trying to follow the AT&T deals we would be selling to the eager residents of Ogden, we arrived at our first business.  Sheepishly, I followed Lauren into some Feed and Grain store and watched her try to convince the owner to switch to AT&T with her chest.  Unfortunately, he declined, and the day followed much the same.  I think we visited almost every business in Ogden and only two suckers made the switch.  After a couple of hours, Lauren made me make the pitch, and I have to admit, I have never hated myself more.  If you ever want to feel demoralized, drive up to Ogden, go to a pet store on Main Street and ask them about their phone service.  A lady with a t-shirt that says, "Who Needs a Therapist I Have My Schnoodle" will tell you what a disgraceful person YOU are and how you need to leave.  

After being berated by the dog loving lunatic, we again lit up and headed back to the "offices."  What happened next is still a little hard for me talk about because, after five years, I'm still utterly embarrassed I was in the same room with these people.  All the "trainees" and their "trainers" got in a circle.  Then everyone had to go around and say how many sells they made.  The one with the most sells, not only got to wear a viking helmet, but also got to bang the African bell.  Once the bell was rung, someone would turn on music and everyone would dance.  Looking back I wish I had just sprinted for the door, but instead, like a total masochist I went back the next day.  Don't ask why.  I think it was my "You Can Do It" attitude.  Oh, to be 23 again.

The next day was much the same, only I went to North Salt Lake with my "trainer," and this time, a furniture store owner yelled at me.  (Again, I don't know why I didn't just run my car off the road or stick a fork in my eye.)

Finally, I finished by "training" and the third day I was sent off by myself.  By ten in the morning, I was completely defeated and sick of apologizing for being a saleswoman.  By eleven, I had eaten my lunch and read a magazine at the local gas station.  And by twelve, I was on the phone with my brother crying.  He told me to get in my car and go home.  He said this "company" was absolutely pathetic and I could do better.  I finally had to agree.  

So, I'm a little nervous.  Hopefully, two things will happen.  1. the internet won't let me down this time.  AND 2. I'll realize the job is a joke at the interview and not while I'm crying in some empty parking lot.

Take That E

The other day I was watching the mind numbing channel of E and came across their award winning segment on "The Biggest Scandals of 2008."  Before I could quickly turn off the TV and read the dictionary I was sucked in.  I mean, I don't think any of us saw Lindsay Lohan going gay.  Shocking.  Anyway, this show got me thinking about the past year and the scandals I haven't fully divulged on this blog.  No, I kid...and you will never hear those stories...it made me think of my own list for 2008.  So, I know this is a little late, but what can I say I was inspired by the network that not only gives you The Girls Next Door, but also a look into Snoop Dogg's home.  

The following will probably bore you to death, but I love lists so stay with me.

Best Books of 2008

1. Rhett Butler's People by Donald McCaig  (Best sequel to Gone With The Wind I've ever read) 
   
2. Down At The End of Lonely Street: The Life and Death of Elvis Presley by Peter Brown
   
3. Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger 
   

Best Days of 2008

1. All-Star Loaded Questions on New Year's Eve
2. Eating the greatest pizza in St. Mark's Square in Venice, Italy
3. My Birthday with Danny
4. Talking to my sister on the phone for almost three hours one day.

Best Quote of 2008

"I know you love your animals, but don't make me pet them."

Coolest Places I Saw in 2008

1. Four Seasons private beach in Costa Rica
2. Private Gardens of the Pope behind The Vatican
3. The Narrows at Zion National Park with Barb
4. Riding through Snow Canyon in St. George, Utah after 45 miles of a head wind.

Most Surprising Moments of 2008

1. I took up golf.
2. As coordinated as I think I am, I really can't surf all that well.
3. Lindsay Lohan is now gay.

Best Songs of 2008

1. "You are the Best Thing" - Ray LaMontagne
2. "Put it On Me" - Ben Harper
3. "Right as Rain" - Adele
4. "The Underdog" - Spoon

Best TV Shows of 2008

1. Friday Night Lights
2. Mad Men
3. Gossip Girl
4. 30 Rock

Guilty Pleasures of 2008

1. Blog stalking people in my old ward.
2. Lipstick Jungle
3. Twilight

Alright we've all endured enough.  Happy New Year?

Apple, Bronx and Nakoa-Wolf Manakauapo Walk Into A Bar

As I told my mother, and I will now tell you, I'm not in a panic to have children.  Sure I'll be 30 in three months and I do hear some faint clock in the back of my head, but I'm not to the point of muttering, "baby, baby" while sitting in the corner.  Because no one puts baby in the corner. Yes, I did set myself up for that.  

Anyway, I might not be trying on maternity clothes, but lately I'm getting severely annoyed at all the morons who seem to be having children.  To name a few: Ashlee Simpson.  Bronx.  That's all I'm going to say.  Oh, and good luck with a father who looked like he escaped from hobbit land with his mom's eye liner.  Then there was Bristol Palin who went to prom wearing a corsage and came home pregnant.  I bet she still reads Seventeen magazine while her baby naps.  And lastly, there's Lisa Benot.  Don't know who she is?  Well, good ol' Lisa from The Cosby Show had a new baby on December 15th who she named Nakoa-Wolf Manakauapo Namakaeha.  (I would insert a sarcastic comment here, but I think this kid's classmates in a few years will think of a couple of good ones.)

Seriously, all I want is to bring a normal kid into the world.  Well, a kid who will beat up kids like Bronx and (insert random vowel) boy.  Is that too much to ask for?

Two Years

A week ago we celebrated our two year wedding anniversary by hitting two bucket of balls, enjoying a little dinner at our favorite restaurant and slurping through a broken straw a ridiculously thick milkshake from Jack in the Box. I know, we are such romantics. I will have to say it was a step up from our last anniversary that was spent on an airplane to Costa Rica with the in-laws. Now that was hot.

During our anniversary I started to think about when I knew I was going to marry this boy from California. In 2004, we were set up on a date in North Carolina by our sister-in-laws. I wouldn't call it love at first sight for either of us. He seemed nice, but at the time I was living in Utah and didn't see a future with someone so far away. A year went by and one day, as I was walking out of the gym, I had a thought to call my Duke blind date. To this day I don't know where that thought came from. Maybe divine inspiration or my mother's relentless reminders of him were finally working. At any rate, we talked and decided to see each other again when he came out for a snow boarding trip in a few weeks.

Again, the dates were fun, but I couldn't figure out how I felt about him. There was no denying that we were incredibly compatible, but I just couldn't take the next leap. And then a few months later we were sitting outside at a restaurant in Salt Lake. I'll never forget the scene. He had just graduated from Law School and had stopped in Utah on his way back to California. He was wearing a light blue polo and talking about his trip across the country when all of the sudden I knew. I knew I was going to marry him. I didn't know when, and I sure as heck, didn't know how I was going to get there, but I knew.

A year and a half later we were married. I still can't believe that little blind date in Durham actually worked.

Woulda Shoulda Coulda

* This picture reflects my excitement for the new year and... for the Obama Administration.

I wouldn't call myself a "goal setter." If anything, I sort of hate the whole "I'm going to change my life by writing down some stupid things I'm probably never going to do." I remember each year in college my coach used to make me write down five things I wanted to accomplish during the season. I would inevitably write things like, "I want to score more, improve my left hand and become faster." I really should have written a personal note to myself that read, "Stop dating that abusive moron you call your boyfriend, and try writing your papers sooner than the night before." I think those goals would have been more important and beneficial to my college experience.

Anyway, it's a new year, and as much as I hate the whole resolution thing, I have been thinking of some things I would like to accomplish in 2009. Again, I'm about as optimistic as a man swimming with sharks is of not getting killed, that I'll actually reach these goals, but maybe I'll set a goal to reach my goals. Does that even work?

Anyway, in order to maximize success, I've chosen five resolutions that I think I'll be able to achieve in 2009. Life is about small steps right?

1. I will Tivo all of 24 before watching the show. I watched 24 week to week last time and it just wasn't the same.
2. I will drink more water. I sometimes go all day on a diet of pretzels, cereal and licorice. You wouldn't believe how parched I get by dinner.
   
3. I will finish my wedding video. So, it's been two years since I was married.
4. I will stop lashing out at reality TV contestants...even when you pick the wrong 15 bachelorettes to begin the show. Come on Jason didn't Deanna teach you anything!?
5. I've been doing a really good job at wearing my retainer to bed. I think I'm going to continue that even though my hubby insists I tell him a story every time I place those little tortures in my mouth. *

Okay, so my list doesn't consist of going to the Temple more or eating more vegetables. What can I say, I'm a realist.

* Come to think of it, I would like to create a resolution for him: to stop laughing when I can't pronounce my "th" and "s" sounds when I'm wearing my retainers.

I Feel My Tempature A Rising...

Lately, I've been spending a lot of time by myself in my apartment. It would be an understatement to say I'm going a little batty. Just the other day I actually engaged the crazy man in our apartment complex, who wears only a bathrobe and hangs out by the mail boxes, in a real conversation. (Well, as real as you can have with a man in a bathrobe reading the daily coupons, but I think we really had a moment. Vietnam sounded like an interesting war.)

Anyway, this past week I've been trying to find things to occupy the time I'm not working at my computer. (Yes, that would leave about 8 hours left to occupy. I kid.) Since Monday I finished a book, caught up on my Top Chef episodes and even finished my Christmas cards. However, I still feel the craziness creeping in.

Fortunately, today I found a rather unusual reprieve from my lunacy. While trying to find a song for the wedding video I'm editing I came across a wonderful song called "Burning Love" by Elvis Presley. At first, I just clicked on it because I was curious to hear the song. However, before I knew it I was bopping in my seat and nodding my head. I have to admit I repeated the song three times and even sort of got out of my seat and did a little number for my clothes and alarm clock. Finally, I coaxed myself back to my desk and resumed working. However, as the day went on I kept going back to that song. (I'm even listening to it right now).

So, yes, I'm 29 and going a little crazy. At least the King understands...

Tiger, Tiger What???

I never thought I would say this, but I have found a new love. No, it's not the second season of The Pick-Up Artist...which by the way is so awkward, and yet, so goood.

No, my new love is golf. I know, I know, I never thought I would say it. I mean, I have always believed for something to constitute as a sport (and yes, I always argued golf was not a real sport) 1. Your heart rate should rise above a resting level from playing it. 2. You shouldn't be able to drink and smoke during the participation of it. AND 3. You should perspire from chasing something, NOT from carrying a load of graphite and metal. I know such stringent standards.

Now, I still believe in these prerequisites, but something happened today. This morning me and the hubby went to play a little Par 3 course. From my first shank I was hooked. I don't know if it was the fact that my hubby kept showering me with lies of how good I was doing, or the fact that I actually made par on a couple of holes, but I can't get this activity (still can't go with the word "sport") out of my mind.

To say the least this new love troubles me. One, I feel like I'm going against a belief system. And two, and probably more important, I wonder does this mean I'm going to start wearing plaid and knickers, practicing my swing during conversations with people, and take up smoking cigars? Will this be the end of my athletic career?

I think tomorrow I'm going to go for a long jog and hit someone...and then maybe this phase will pass.

The Souliers and 2 Hicks

Our Thanksgiving weekend in St. George was amazing. We rode almost 55 miles, played ping-pong for several hours (forgave the hubby for cheating), watched movies and even coerced my family into taking 3 PICTURES. You would think I was asking them all to give blood. Anyway, here's 2 of the 3 shots I was allowed to take.

The real family.

Adventures in the Public Library

At the moment I'm in the library working on one of the personal computers the library offers for free porn and anarchy research. Why I am here? (Other than trying to contract the flu from this germ coated mouse?) Well, for some reason during the day our internet at home has decided not to work..and since I spend probably 66.8% of my day surfing the net (all work related, of course) I thought I would come down here and get my daily fix. However, after watching a man literally eat a coffee cup...yes, the entire cup...no, not drink the coffee inside...but eat the actual paper I think I'll be headed home a little sooner than I thought. Oh and the fact that a man behind me has turned around in his chair and is trying to read my screen. TURN AROUND CRAZY MAN! If you don't hear from me again...well, you'll know I was taken out at the Santa Monica public library.

p.s. I would like to add an addition to my last post "The Biggest Loser." I too agree that Heba is the spawn of Satan and the fact that they went after Philip and his wife just proves how evil they are.

The BIGGEST Loser

After years of watching reality TV I have finally found a contestant I absolutely despise. Now, don't get me wrong I have disliked reality TV contestants before. For example, all last season I had a sincere prayer in my heart that Jason Castro (the stoned Jack Johnson wannabe from last year's American Idol) would be run over and then beaten. And, I have hoped that not only would every contestant on MTV's Real World/Road Rules Challenge contract every STD in the book, but also be caught in the middle of a mugging gone wrong. And of course, there was the ever lovable Kenley, from Project Runway...words do not describe how much she bugged. OKAY, so the list could go on. What can I say...I don't read a lot.

Anyway, as much as I loathe these people, I can still finish an episode and walk away. However, lately, while watching The Biggest Loser I find myself not only giving the finger to this contestant during the episode, but after wanting to drive up to the "ranch" and take this contestant out. Her name is Vicki and for some reason I want her stopped. The Biggest Loser used to be about amazing stories of people changing their lives and working together. This crazy tub from Louisiana is all about back stabbing and complaining. I know I sound like a raving lunatic, but I usually watch this show either smiling or almost crying as they drop another 8 pounds! Now, I'm all sorts a fired up.

How far have I gone? Well, the other day on Yahoo's homepage was an article discussing how awful and conniving Vicki has been on the show. Attached to the article were a bunch of comments from other people stating their dislike for this woman. For a minute I read these comments and actually felt good. I felt vindicated, and to be honest, I felt proud to be finally standing with my fellow Americans over a real cause. Sure we disagree on most things, but at least we can join together and hate on Vicki.

Baby A

I'm not sure if it's a family tradition, or a tradition I try to enforce upon my family, but after eating an obscene amount of turkey I like to take a moment and make everyone around the table comment on what they are grateful for. (I guess this exercise makes me feel better celebrating a holiday that really inaugurated the end of the Native Americans...darn that Genocide class in college.) Anyway, while packing for this gluttonous holiday I started to think of what I would say during my forced "Norman Rockwell moment." Obviously, I'm grateful for my hot hubby, the shelter over our heads and the health we enjoy. However, what really came to mind was my sister. Almost six months ago due to unfortunate, or fortunate circumstances (depends on how you look at it), my twin sister and I were re-introduced. No, I wasn't in some prisoner of war camp (again, reference to that darn class), or was she on some deserted island. Instead, our lives as twins sort of came to slow stop almost ten years ago. I was at Duke, she was in Utah, and all of the sudden we began different lives. Through that time we tried to stay in touch, tried to stay close, but I always felt like we were people with a common past, but no common future. Then six months ago I got a call from her and our paths became one again. I can't express how complete I now feel having my twin and best friend back. So, without a doubt, the thing I am most grateful for, would be my sister and for life bringing us back together.

Check the Plate

The other day me and the hubby were out biking. While we were approaching an intersection a suspect Camry began to drift into our biking lane. Immediately, we started to yell at this moron, but stopped when we saw the license plate: "Caution Asian Driver." I had to applaud the honesty, and forgive the apologetic Asian in the driver's seat.

If we all could be that honest...

My Grandfather

I know it sounds strange, but if I was to describe my grandfather I would say he was just a cool man. I know that sounds rather trite and superficial, but in this case I think it's quite fitting. Through the depression he played the piano and thrived in the big band scene, he married a beautiful woman, started Frost Drug in Kaysville, Utah and never lost his quick wit and sense of humor. He was also one of the hardest workers I ever saw. Until his last years he pushed himself to work outside and maintain his home.

This morning my grandfather passed away. As in many cases with our elderly generation, his passing is both sad and a celebration. It's sad because I no longer have a grandparent on this earth, and a celebration because of the reunion I know he is experiencing right now. He was quite a man and I'm proud to be his legacy.

Take care Grandpa.

Weenie

I have decided after much consideration that I'm a total weenie. Sure, I have no qualms about knocking someone over on a field or giving the finger to a passing motorist. But, if I'm asked to confront someone and raise my voice, ever so slightly, I completely crumble. For example, the other day I had to yell at two of my kids for drinking on our recent trip to Hawaii, AND then posting the freaking pictures of the act on Facebook. When I heard about this display of stupidity I was completely fired up. I instantly proclaimed things like, "They are so off this team!" "I'm going to kill them!" and "When I see them I'm going to freaking yell at them!"...Now, let's cut to the actual conversation...

Kate: "Hey you two morons can I talk to you for a second?"
Morons: "Yep."
Kate: "Did you drink in Hawaii and then post pictures of it?"
Morons: "Yep."
Kate: "Okay, that was stupid." (looking at worried faces of morons) "But, hey did you take them down?"
Morons: "We can."
Kate: "Okay, great."
Morons: "Anything else?"
Kate: "Um, yeah...how about apologizing?"
Morons: "Sure, we're sorry."
Kate: "I wasn't going to play you on Sunday." (trying to pick up some steam here)
Moron #1: "I think we deserve that."
Moron #2: "Really??? Oh, come on."
Kate: "Okay, I'll think about it. But, I'm not happy." (good recovery Kate)
Morons walk away and Kate...well, Kate feels BAD FOR YELLING AT THEM!! What is wrong with me?

I wish I could be like my sister, who never seems to take crap from anybody, or this really mean girl from my freshmen dorm who always told me to get out of the "warm shower," or Chuck Norris...that guy is amazing.

No Longer A Quiet Supporter

So, I've sort of reached my limit. Since I heard about Prop 8 I became a quiet supporter. I participated in the things the church asked of us, and I voted yes last Tuesday. Since, the election I feel like I can't be a quiet supporter any longer.

Last Sunday after church we drove down by the temple. Words cannot express the sadness I felt seeing so many individuals outside our temple protesting with such anger and animosity. Their signs read, "Vote yes on Love, Hate the Mormons," "Tax the Mormons," and "Go Back to Utah." Never in my lifetime have I seen or experienced such anger towards our religion. Of course, I've endured countless rounds of jest about my non-drinking behavior, my quest to remain a virgin and attending church for an unbelievable three hours. Yet, I have never been accused of bigotry and intolerance.

As unbelievable as it may be to the opposing side of Prop 8, my support has nothing to do with them. I have no desire to attack or punish the homosexual community. I support California law that states domestic partners should have the same rights, protections and benefits as married spouses. I have good friends who are gay, and I don't want to lose their friendships.

My support for Prop 8 is about me. It's about protecting what I believe. It's about protecting my marriage. It's about my children. It's not about hate and intolerance.

I am tired of listening to the loud minority scream for tolerance and then punish us for thinking differently. I am tired of watching my fellow Mormons waffle through this issue and allow the world to trump a tested belief system. I am tired of being attacked for being religious and wanting to protect something that was established in the very beginning.

I know this battle will continue, but I don't know if we will win. All I know is that today and, "...as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord."


Make no mistake about it, brothers and sisters, in the months and years ahead, events are likely to require each member to decide whether or not he will follow the First Presidency. Members will find it more difficult to halt longer between two opinions. (See 1 Kgs. 18:21.)

Your discipleship may see the time when such religious convictions are discounted. M. J. Sobran also said, “A religious conviction is now a second-class conviction, expected to step deferentially to the back of the secular bus, and not to get uppity about it” (Human Life Review, Summer 1978, pp. 58–59).

This new irreligious imperialism seeks to disallow certain opinions simply because those opinions grow out of religious convictions. Resistance to abortion will be seen as primitive. Concern over the institution of the family will be viewed as untrendy and unenlightened.

If people, however, are not permitted to advocate, to assert, and to bring to bear, in every legitimate way, the opinions and views they hold which grow out of their religious convictions, what manner of men and women would we be?

- Neal A. Maxwell "A More Determined Discipleship", 1979

I Live In Two States

I know you were worried I wasn't going to continue my commentary on my trip back east. So, here's some pictures of our trip to Chadds Ford.

Above and below are some typical shots of the farmland just beyond my high school. While I was growing up our family used to come out to this area for a fox hunt during Thanksgiving. I guess this is why I'm not so much a "city person."

To the left and the right are pictures of one of my favorite parks in Delaware. The trees were absolutely perfect that day.

Boo Yeah

Last night I felt a mix of emotions over the Election. To be honest, I was pretty apathetic about the presidential race. I figured it was over before it started. However, I was extremely nervous about Prop 8. Yet, the masses have spoken and Prop 8 passed by 52% of the vote. Los Angeles county even was in favor of the proposition! I know it's a small victory, but it feels good to see something being protected.

As a side note...I love this story. A few weeks back I was making calls in regards to Prop 8. I was using this automated calling system that is pretty awkward. There's a lapse between when the call connects and when you hear the person. Consequently, you sound like a telemarketer. Anyway, I called this lady and as she heard the lapse she started to get angry thinking someone was soliciting her business. When I finally told her what I was calling about she apologized for being such a b*tch (her words) and then informed me she was a Christian. She then asked me if how it was going and my success rate. I told her that I was not enjoying the phone calls, but I knew I needed to be making them. She then asked if she could pray for me. I said yes, and then all of the sudden she broke into a prayer on the phone. I know it sounds strange, but I thought it was so cool for this lady to do something so unexpected and so sincere. When I finally got off the phone with her I felt like maybe we had a fighting chance on this issue. I guess I felt right.

Feeling the Brotherly Love

Last weekend I got to go home to Chadds Ford and it was awesome. Here's some highlights of our trip to Philadelphia. More pictures of home will be coming, but blogspot takes FOREVER to load pictures.

Our first stop was in Philadelphia and to experience the official Chadds Ford Elementary field trip.

To the left is my impression of National Treasure. Picture me gripping the Constitution and being shot at.

To the right is an awesome house we found off South Street. It's pink and sparkly.

Pat's Cheesesteak is absolutely amazing. There's a sign there telling you how to order...I thought I was totally pulling it off until I said, "I'll take two cheesesteaks with and provolone." The guy looked at me like, "Oh really you want a cheesesteak? Shocking since that's all we serve." I think the correct request would have been, "2 with provolone." So I can't read...Cheesesteak nazi. In the background is Pat's competitor Geno's.

Don't mind the double chin on me. We didn't have enough time to hit the full Franklin Institute so we decided to watch an amazing 3D show. Okay, it wasn't amazing, but these glasses were.

To the left is me celebrating along with my fellow Philadelphians over the Phillies' World Series victory the night before. I just can't pass up a good Bud Light.

To the right is me excited about being at the freaking Art Museum and seeing this statue of Rocky. I mean, it's Rocky.

Looking down from the Art Museum. Yep, another Rocky tribute. By the way those stairs aren't that steep. What a bum.










To the left is another excited individual. I would like to say we didn't cause a scene with this picture, but that would be a lie. To the right is our best impression of Rocky. Yes, we did try to impersonate every single movie filmed in Philadelphia. You wouldn't believe the scenes we posed for the movie Philadelphia.

Kate-isms

On Sunday my dear friend, Emily Madsen, took a bold move and revealed some very interesting idiosyncrasies. I'm not sure if this was a covert ploy to compel her other friends to expose their strange behaviors, or a real liberation of honesty. At any rate, my friend, has asked me to join in the fun and disclose some of my own quirks. Therefore, to console my friend that she is not the only one who has to count to three every time she turns off a light or washes her hands 100 times a day below are my top 6 "Kate-isms." (They are listed in no particular order).

1. When I go shopping and try on a bunch of things I never end up buying the particular article of clothing I tried on. Instead, I will try on a shirt, decide to buy it, hand it to the creepy person who surrounds their self in clothes and numbers, go to the floor and find the exact shirt and buy that one. I figure the shirt I tried on has been tried on by everyone in the store, and I'm not dealing with the deodorant stains. (Even if I created them)

2. Whenever I try to imitate an accent it always comes out Indian. For example, I will try to repeat my favorite line in Far and Away, "Catherine, do you like my hat? Say you like my hat," in an Irish accent, and before I know it, I'm asking Catherine if she wants a slurpie with her pack of cigarettes at the 7-11. I don't know if this is a quirk or a birth defect.

3. I absolutely hate when people have their foot next to mine when I'm sitting. If I'm crossing my leg to the left and someone next to me crosses theirs to the right and grazes my foot I will instantly re-cross my legs or get my foot away from them. Dan, unfortunately, knows this quirk and tortures me all through church.

4. This one might surprise people but I hate, hate, hateeeeee blood and any talk of medical things. If someone describes their finger being dislocated I will instantly feel my finger bending backwards at an abnormal angle. If someone describes their knee surgery I will fall to the ground holding my knee and scream, "STOP IT FOR ALL THAT'S DECENT IN THE WORLD!!" And if I see a surgery on TV I will throw the remote and run away. Yep, 29. Thanks.

5. There are two stages to my laugh. One, I initially make a loud sound and slap something, and then two, after the laughter has died down I have what you call a "trail laugh." I never really noticed it until a friend of mine pointed it out, but I will keep making a sound that has this faint vibration in my throat. Again, this could be a quirk or a birth defect.

6. I despise movie popcorn. Just the thought of it right now makes me feel a little nauseous. If I go to the movies, I will buy my tickets and then instantly put my hand or shirt over my nose. The smell is just too much.

So, I thought of about ten more, (like I always have to give money to homeless people, I'm always researching cures for diseases and I love to hold babies) but for fear of sounding like a freak let's leave it at this.

I would tag some more individuals, but unfortunately, everyone's blog I read has already been tagged. So, get sharing!

A Real Application

I'm not typically political. Maybe it's because I was surrounded by so many raging liberals in college, or because my mom lived and died by Rush Limbaugh. At any rate, if you are a Republican or Democrat I think this story is good food for thought.

(This is one of my neighbors from back home)

Here is a creative approach to redistribution of wealth as offered in a newspaper...

Today on my way to lunch I passed a homeless guy with a sign that read "Vote Obama, I need the money." I laughed.

Once in the restaurant my server had on a "Obama 08" tie, again I laughed as he had given away his political preference--just imagine the coincidence.

When the bill came I decided not to tip the server and explained to him that I was exploring the Obama redistribution of wealth concept. He stood there in disbelief while I told him that I was going to redistribute his tip to someone who I deemed more in need--the homeless guy outside. The server angrily stormed from my sight.

I went outside, gave the homeless guy $10 and told him to thank the server inside as I've decided he could use the money more. The homeless guy was grateful.

At the end of my rather unscientific redistribution experiment I realized the homeless guy was grateful for the money he did not earn, but the waiter was pretty angry that I gave away the money he did earn even though the actual recipient deserved money more.

I guess redistribution of wealth is an easier thing to swallow in concept than in practical application.

Bi-Monthly, Semi-Unorganized, Santa Monica Biathlon

Today was the inauguration of the "Bi-monthly, semi-unorganized, Santa Monica distance undetermined, Kate and Dan biathlon."

Where did this come from? Last night, at about midnight, Dan and I started talking about entering a triathlon. After getting excited about a couple online, we decided to create our own the following day. (Well, minus the swimming - I don't do cold water.)

Anyway, we biked 17 miles and ran a little under four miles. I think it went well, I mean outside of, my butt is completely pulled and Dan is out cold on the "Man Chair."

Dan at the end of our ride.

The finish line of our biathlon. I look happy, but truly my butt was killing me.

If you would like to enter the next Kate and Dan biathlon please send a check for $100.00, your t-shirt size and credit card number to me. Spots will be filling up.

I Once Went to Mongolia

7 years ago I entered the MTC for one of the coolest chapters of my life. I would say more, but I think four journals, three photo albums and two binders of emails covers the story.

Therefore, enjoy the pictures...
A typical look for me in Mongolia. I know what you are thinking, missionary or angel of death?

We called him "Billy."

Out in the country side on the way to the mission office. Yeah, I know, camels. Pretty cool huh?

The Silver Lining

Bad Parts of the Day:

1. Fought with Dan over replacing the battery in his car
2. Someone backed up into my car while pulling out of the parking lot
3. Computer froze
4. Argued with a customer service representative, named "Samantha," from India about my computer

Redeeming Part of the Day:

1. Instead of saying, "Have a wonderful day," at the end of our discombobulated conversation, Samantha mistakenly said in a thick accent, "You are wonderful!"

...I am wonderful.

Open Season for Crazy

About twice a week I frequent the public library to check out a new book or a free DVD. What can I say, I have never been able to justify buying a book that I will only read once and then place on some obscure shelf for visitors to use as a barometer of my intelligence or lack there of. I suppose if I read more intellectual things than Twilight, the latest Nicholas Sparks romance or Harry Potter I would be inclined to buy more books, but since I'm apparently a cross between a raving teenie bopper and a repressed middle-aged woman the "return policy" of the library suits me just fine.

Anyway, now that I'm finished explaining my pathetic book collection, let's move on. The other night when I stopped at the library I noticed something: Public libraries are not only places to check out books, but also serve as public shelters for homeless people and open forums for crazies. Now, I know these aren't new observations, and I'm not going to pass judgment on these down and out people. But, I think the problem is that us "normal" people are taking advantage of the library's leniency with these troubled people. What do I mean? Well, for example, the other night I walked into the library and this is what I experienced. As I locked up my bike I noticed a rather normal looking man reading outside and eating some dinner. When I passed this man, who again, I thought was completely normal, he ripped something that made me wish I was not only deaf at that moment, but also without the ability to smell. From that encounter I entered the library and saw a woman, dare I say, pretty normal breast-feeding her child on a bench next to the check out desk. She wasn't covered and now I was wishing I didn't have the ability to see. After passing the doting mother, I turned the corner to see a man gold digging for something up his nose as he looked through the new books. I stared at this one for a while wondering if he would stop after a couple seconds. Unfortunately, that did not happen, and again I wanted to pour kerosene into my eyes. From the miner, I went to the DVD section (to get my new fix of Veronica Mars - freaking great show*) and while looking through the "V" section I heard a man yell, yep yell, "Quiet!" at two kids who were laughing in the periodical section. Just to test my theory I walked over to the desks to see who had yelled, and as suspected, he was a normal looking man.

So, I go back to my original observation: Public libraries have become not only shelters for homeless and mentally disturbed people, but apparently, also places where even normal people can act completely crazy.

I didn't read that in the fine print for my library card application, but I'm going to start exercising that right. I think tonight I might go down there with no pants on and read a book on astronomy. Why? Because I can, and no one will say anything.

* Refer back to me being a raving teenie bopper.

A Look Into the Hicks' Minds

Dan and I saw this sign in the elevator...

















Dan wanted to ask our manager about a bet he made that didn't go so well.

I wanted to ask about my virginity and how I might be able to get it back.

She did ask about anything...

Just Saying

So, Dan and I talk about three or four times a day while he's at work. Sometimes we fill each other in on our exciting day. Sometimes he tells me gossip from work, and I rip on my out of shape players. Sometimes I tell him to leave work early and come home. (Okay that happens a lot). Other times he encourages me to shower before noon and go outside. And sometimes, while talking, Dan decides to put me on speaker phone while he responds to emails, reads lawyer stuff and shuffles papers. (That's as much as I understand about his job). In moments like these, I can't help but become like a little child. No, not meek and teachable...more childish and loud.

Anyway, the other day Dan put me on speaker phone and then proceeded to type away. I could hear the click of his keypad and knew he wasn't really listening to me. Instead, of saying something like, "Hey honey, will you listen to me?" I said, and quite loudly, "I want to make love to youuuu!" As soon as I got "you" out the phone went dead. Apparently, not only did my husband hear my proclamation, but so did an unsuspecting co-worker who walked in at the exact right moment.

What can I say? I was feelin' the love.