Spooky How Well They Know Me

Your Birthdate: October 29

You have the mind of an artist, even if you haven't developed the talent yet. Expressive and aware, you enjoy finding new ways to share your feelings. You often feel like you don't fit in - especially in traditional environments. You have big dreams. The problem is putting those dreams into action. Your strength: Your vivid imagination Your weakness: Fear of failure Your power color: Coral Your power symbol: Oval Your power month: November

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Jolly Ole Saint Nickel-less: Or How I Turned Off the Christmas Machine Out of Economic Necessity and Ended Up Being Glad

What a festive time of year! So festive that no one wants to be in the middle of making a movie during the holidays. Ergo: Mass unemployment for those hapless creative types who are masochistic enough to want to work in film. While some might think it's fun to have loads of time off during the Season, I think they are the Some that have normal jobs with things called "benefits" like paid vacation. But I have made my bed and now I must lie in it (until it gets repossesed). It is a bed I happily lie in when I can say things like, "I'm going to the premiere tomorrow night," and "Our film is getting lots of buzz at Sundance." O.K. I'm still waiting to say that second one. The point is there's Glamour in this biz and the "starving" part is just the baggage that goes along with being able to call oneself an artist. Right?

So the other day I went into Media Play to spend the remaining bits of a gift card to make sure Anthony had something to open on Christmas Day on Christmas Day. I tell you, there were some kids there who should not be getting a visit from the Jolly Elf. Also, it doesn't surprise me one bit that Media Play is going out of business. They call 20% off a total store clearance??? Excuse me, but you're just now getting down to the same price as the rest of the retail world. I think the Scrooge at Media Play corporate headquarters must be green, furry, and have a heart three sizes too small. Or am I mixing metaphors...

That day out at Media Play was really my first and only foray into the wide world of Christmas consumer lust this year. And I realized that it's ugly and annoying and and and maybe I just feel that way because I would really like to get some nice gifts for the special people in my life and I'd also like to have some left over to do the Angel Tree thing. But I can't and it's really not making me terribly sad. Not like I thought it would.

Anthony does have---Christmas miracle---work the day after Christmas, so we decided to save the non existent gas money and stay here in Provo for Christmas. That means our Christmas will be devoid of the family party. And I'm ok with that. It means that I'll sleep in my bed on Christmas Eve. I'm really ok with that. It means that we'll be just the four of us opening a few presents on Christmas Day on Christmas Day. It means that we'll go to Church for only an hour on Christmas Day in the morning. Then we'll spend the rest of the day eating, watching movies, and hopefully playing some games together. (Backgammon---I always win!) It's quiet, it's cozy, it's family. It's Christmas.

What To Get For That Someone Who Has Everything

Tired of noisy toys and stuff you don't know what to do with when Christmas is over? I think this is a great alternative to stuff stuff and stuff. And it promotes a sense of stewardship and global awareness.

http://www.adoption.co.uk
and
http://www.greatgifts.org

Merry Christmas!!!

Adventures in Character Development Parte the First

So, I'm in the play Much Ado About Nothing. I'm very excited to be in it. I'm playing a female version of Don John (the Keanu Reeves character). I looked forward to the auditions for many months and when the time came to audition, I prepared a fair amount, I'd say. I was very anxious to be a part of the show. First of all, it's Shakespeare and I'd only ever done scenes of Shakespeare in acting classes. To conclude, it's being done at Provo Theatre Company which is "Utah County's Only Professional Theatre." Sixth, and lastly, the director is really cool and knows his Shakespeare. I felt pretty good about my audition. And I certainly know that all you can do in an audition is your best because you can't control if you're too tall, or if someone thinks you have funny speech patterns, or if someone else is sleeping with some decision maker.
I was thrilled to get the call that I had been cast.

And then I panicked.

When I was accepted to film school, I more or less left acting for about 10 years to pursue behind the scenes stuff. After I had been working as a casting director for a year or so I decided it was time to throw my hat in the ring again. I was not very familiar with local theatres so I just called them all to find out about upcoming auditions. I was soon cast in a production of Servant of Two Masters playing Beatrice. It was a bad production. For example, one of the director's directions to some young cast members was "Show some feeling in this scene." His instruction to us the night before we opened was, "Make sure you have your lines and blocking memorized."
After that, I got an agent for film work and actually got a couple of commercials and a small part in a movie that was mercifully excluded from the final cut. All of that, though, is just snippets of character. A few lines. Thirty seconds of air time. Certainly nothing you have to sustain. Nothing to sink one's teeth into.

Thus the panic. It's really been a long time. What if I can't really do this? What if I actually suck and nobody's told me yet but they're all thinking it?

The third day of rehearsal we were blocking the scenes I'm in and I was a stone. A dull, feelingless stone devoid of any creative spark. I knew I could see behind Chris's eyes regret at having cast me. Was the young actor playing Conrad repulsed at having to play opposite and old hag like me? I thought so. At work the next day I told Alisa of my feelings of being woefully inadequate. She was supportive and assured me that she knew I could and would do great and make it funny. After all, she reminded me, we've only had three reahearsals.

Armed with reassurances from her and dear Anthony, I worked on my lines during the week and thought about character in preparation for the first act blocking run through on Saturday.
I found a picture of a dress that was used in a film in 1918(the year we're setting the play) that gave me an image. And, although I've got more time to work this out, here's where I'm headed: Equal parts spider, snake and Norma Desmond.


And Saturday's rehearsal went so much better.
I'm just going to ignore what's behind Chris's eyes.

Taking My Child Into the West

A couple of months ago I had about 3 loads of laundry to fold all at once, so I thought I'd sit down and watch The Fellowship of The Ring whilst I folded. Mason came home near the end of the film and watched it with me. Then he asked if he could watch The Two Towers as well. We actually (because we're really good parents) took him to The Lord of the Rings movies when they were in the theatres, but as he was only 2, 3 and 4 when they came out, I don't think he got much out of them. I was delighted that he would now be interested in watching the films now because I'm such a huge fan. I also did realize that he probably had ulterior motives for watching the films: while we would be watching the movies he wouldn't have to clean his room or practice piano or do homework. It's always good to take advantage of the fact that mom is watching movies in the middle of the day. But we actually only ended up watching them on the weekends and he fell asleep pretty quickly so we didn't finish all of them until Sunday night. I think it took three sittings to finish The Return of the King. (We, of course, have the extended editions.)
So, Sunday night we had an hour and a half left of The Return of the King.
Spoiler Alert!
(Yes, there are one or two people in the world who haven't seen these movies---Mom, Bree...)
This was a grand experience to share with my son. Through the viewings of these films, I wasn't sure if Mason was really gettin' it, but some of his comments assured me that he was indeed gettin' it.

After Sam rescues Frodo from the Orcs in Mordor, they disguise themselves as Orc warriors and try to slip past the armies to Mount Doom.

The sight of the great host of Mordor prompted Mason to ask
Why are there Orcs in this world?
Because there's always bad. Wherever there is good, there is bad. You can't have good without it.
I didn't feel like going into the whole Orcs were once Elves taken by Sauron and twisted and tortured until they turned evil.
Then came Frodo and Sam's climb up Mount Doom and Sam's great speech ending with "I can't carry it for you, Mister Frodo, but I can carry you!"
This part always makes me cry.
Why?
Because they're so tired and they have no strength left, but they have to go on. They can't stop.
It must hurt to walk so much.
Frodo finally makes it to the Cracks of Doom and dangles the ring over the lava.
Drop it! Drop it! C'mon, just let it go! Drop it!
After the mountain explodes and Sam and Frodo are rescued by the Eagles, Frodo is taken to recover in a softly glowing room in Gondor. Gandalf is watching over him when awakens and Frodo knows for the first time since The Fellowship, that Gandalf is alive. Pent up emotions and relief from long suffering spill out as Gandalf laughs from deep in his soul. Then one by one the rest of the Fellowship come into Frodo's room and there is much joy.
Mommy, this part makes me cry.
At Aragorn's coronation, he comes forward to pay tribute to the four Hobbits who bow to him. He responds, "No, my friends. You bow to no one." And he takes a knee in front of them, followed by the rest of Gondor.
Why are they bowing to the hobbits?
Why do you think?
Because they did all the work.
And then, the end.
Sam, Frodo, Pippin, and Merry escort Bilbo to the Grey Havens to take the last Elf ship West. Gandalf says, "It is time, Frodo."
Frodo says his goodbyes to the others and enters the ship.
Why is Frodo going?
Because he's a ring bearer. He saved everyone and it hurt him so bad, he can't stay.
Is he going away forever and ever?
*nod*
And never coming back?
*shake*
I thought I heard small gasps or sniffles in the dark.
When I was tucking him in I asked if he liked it.
When Frodo got on the ship it made me cry.
And he began to cry.
How come?
Because they're best friends and they're never going to see each other again.
I didn't offer any condolence. No words of comfort. I think you sometimes need to let a movie make you cry. I think it's good to be affected. And it was wonderful to share this kind of emotional catharsis with my boy.

Pride in the Work Place: An Endangered Species

This morning I went to work for a full day sans children. That is a topic for another posting. This posting begins when I was walking in the front door of the MPS on this drizzly Monday morning. One of the facilities personnel was picking up a bundle of the prestigious Daily Universe that had been carelessly tossed on the wet sidewalk. In my current state of mind I was prompted to say, "Whatever happened to caring about your job?" Honestly, couldn't they have found some piece of paper or a plastic bag to wrap the papers in? O.K. so the paper is free. So, it really doesn't contain much solid journalism. So the delivery person was just doing his "campus job" to help him pay for the education that will get him his "real job." It's the principle of the thing I'm tryin' to get at here. We all know the phrase "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing right." I think there's a general lazy attitude in the work place, particularly in minimum wage type jobs. (That is a generalization, because I have actually had some excellent service by someone who seems to really be enjoying his job at the KFC by the Albertson's where CJane finally acquired her pumpkin pie.) You get what you pay for, you may say. But what about the phrase I've also read: "If it's not worth doing right, is it worth doing?" If you're going to do a job, do it right. If you're not going to do it right, get out of the way and let someone else do it. I think Americans have become very spoiled and unappreciative of a job. "Maybe we need another depression to make people take pride in work again." And that is what I said as I began my day at work.

Mourning My Former Self

Or at least what I perceive as my former self...
Last week I was doing sealings in the temple and there was another couple helping out. They were younger than me. Probably Zoobies. Our sealer had issues with foreign name pronunciation as most Provo Temple sealers do, bless their hearts. Every new name would bring a stiffled giggle from the Zoobies. They were not cruel. They were just enjoying the experience and each others' company. They were light hearted, but not light minded. (At least that's my perception.)
I think I was like that once. I mentioned in a previous posting that I was once a romantic, but now consider myself a realist. What's more is that I think that I am very literal. As I noticed the bright couple, I had to look at myself in the mirror because I thought that I might have a scowl on my face. I suddenly panicked that I used to be carefree and joyful, but that now I'm not. I used to make people laugh. Now I don't even talk to people any more than I have to because I have "too much stuff to do." This is not the way I want to be. But I think I'm having a hard time extricating myself from this "gotta do more, gotta be more" mode in which I've entrenched myself. Plus I've seen and I've read about a lot of crap that goes on in this world. From injustices and pettiness in the Church Office Building to Pres. Mugabe's corruption and tyranny. I think I've allowed them to weigh down my soul.
What about just living? What about being an optimist? What about dreams? What about dreams coming true? But what about racism, pornography, child abuse, poverty, unpunished sexual predators, war, disease?
I'm distressed. And I want to be joyful.
I'm burdened with cares that are not my own. But we're supposed to bear one another's burdens.
I am blessed. But I don't feel like I reflect that.
I have put away my child self and I want her back!

On Holiday

Once upon a time there was an awkward self conscious 12 year old with brown hair and freckles. On the first day of 8th grade at Ingleside Middle she was assigned alphabetically to a seat in Mrs. Morrill's Social Studies class wherein a class syllabus was distributed. She took one of the stack at the front of the row and turned around to pass the rest back, when she was met with a new face. A lovely face that also had freckles and was framed with brown hair. After lunch she was waiting outside Science class with the new girl and introduced herself. It took several tries for her to catch the new girl's name. Breeze? No, Bree. The awkward girl's last name started with A. Bree's with B, so they were paired up in nearly all their classes for the next two years. Both girls were academically above average and they both enjoyed participating in drama. It was a friendship made in Heaven. The girls were nearly inseparable until shortly into Sophomore year when Bree's cruel parents ripped the two apart by moving back to Colorado. Another year and a half later and the awkward girl (yes, it's me) moved to Utah. We went on to separate universities. I served a mission in Spain while Bree went around the world with Semester at Sea. Then, in 1997 we both married tall blond Anthonys. Then in 1999, we each gave birth to our first child. Bree's Anthony (Tony) is a Lt. in the Navy and in these last 8 years they have lived in Guam, Chicago, and Spain. Currently, they are stationed out of Bremerton Naval Base near Seattle. All these long years of separation has not diminished our friendship. I count it as one of my life's great blessings.
Through their generosity and my frequent flyer miles, Mason, Moira, and I were able to visit them last week as an early birthday present to me.
How wonderful that we can pick up where we left off as if we'd actually lived in the same town for the last 18 years! And as Bree put it, how wonderful that we could give the gift of friendship to our children.
We went to Pike Street Market, the Children's Museum, the Seattle Aquarium, rollerskating, we took the ferry, and just enjoyed hanging out with each other. After such a great birthday present, I guess I'll not even mind turning another year older in a few minutes.

Musings on Death

Occasionally my son likes to ask the big questions like "what is divorce," "what is an ice age," "if I fell into liquid hot magma and died, would I ever see you again," and "what does it feel like to die." This last one was something that came up just a few days ago. I answered that I didn't suppose that the actual dying felt like anything. But then added, "Course, if you were being eaten by a bear, it would probably be really painful and scary before you actually died." I like to keep it real for my kids. I mean, if I don't play straight with them, who's gonna?
So then I was thinking about my preferred manner of death and I thought about Eowyn of Rohan who said, "I fear neither death nor pain." Then Aragorn asks her, "What do you fear, my lady?" And she answers, "A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them. And all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire."
I don't know if I fear death. I think I fear being without my family. I fear them being without me. (But that's probably vanity.) But I do think I'm not a big fan of pain. Although I did give birth sans medication less than six months ago. So maybe I could handle pain too. To be honest, I used to be a romantic, but old age has made me a realist. I don't need to go out in a blaze of glory. I don't need to prove my valor on the battlefield like the sheild maiden of Rohan. I think I would like to live a full life and have full mental and physical capacity until the end. And then, one night, my spirit could just slip home. Maybe that's the most romantic notion yet!

Neither Shall I Eat at the BK

Last night I stayed up late to watch Jon Heder host Saturday Night Live. I believe it is the first time a member of our faith has ever hosted the show. And I don't count Steve Martin or Tom Hanks. Toward the end, a commercial for Burger King came on and it was worse for me than if I'd seen a horror movie before going to bed.
What is with this campaign?! Yikes! A man is riveting the steel of a new sky scraper together, only he's really tired so it's slow going. The person on the other side of his column is riveting like gang busters. After a moment, the gang buster peeks around the column revealing himself as the Burger King. My, what a large head he's got, grandmother! And my, what a large smile! They scare me as no clown has ever scared me. If I looked around a column 20 stories above the earth to see that frightening mug, no doubt I'd give in to my vertiginous tendencies and plummet to my demise, likely breaking every bone in my body on the steel skeleton all the way down.
But this is not the only ad of this variety. What about the lumberjack (and I'm ok)? As his most recent newly dead tree topples, the creature from the golden grease vat pops up offering a meat on top of meat on top of meat breakfast sandwich. Honestly, I'd rather here a banjo playing in the distance than be spooked by the King.
And what does the slogan "Wake up with the King" imply anyway?
Both commercials end with this satanic sovereign jokingly endangering the lives of these new recruits. Yeah, I've got my eye on you, Mr. Burger. You can't fool me with your plastic grin. I can see the evil behind those crinkly eyes! You'll lure the trusting hungry into your false kingdom, only to kill them slowly with ultra processed fast food. Well, not ME, by jove!
Hear this Burger King: your campaign isn't working! I'll be staying away from your monster monarch and your artery clogging repast.

How I Spent My Saturday

My friend Alisa asked for some help on a project she's been doggedly nursing for at least several months. She is developing a feature about one of the stories in the Book of Mormon. On Saturday, we filmed a few pages of the script as it now stands, by way of a promotional fundraising film. As this was being done for almost no money, the crew and cast was small. It is a credit to Alisa's talents as both film director and friend that there were those willing to volunteer a Saturday to help begin the birthing process of this project.
Admittedly, a couple of times in the last month I was less than enthusiastic about "giving up" a Saturday, but as I was driving to the studio a little after seven in the morning, baby in tow, I experienced a growing feeling of excitement and I remembered why I went to film school. I love this stuff! And I love the feeling on a set where the cast and crew are there for the joy of filmmaking.
A was the art director and his only assistant was Mason. It was a family affair. Even Moira content to be in her stroller all day.
I helped with some casting in the weeks prior to the shoot and the day of I documented the day with a video camera and a couple of still cameras. I only right now have access to the photos I took with one of the cameras, and at Alisa's request, I'll only post a couple of them.
However, if you or anyone you know would like to invest in the feature, you'll get to see what was shot on Saturday as well as the pictures and video I shot!

Stories Are Important

The other night, A and I were discussing novels and film. We talked about why we read and/or watch movies. I said that we learn when we read books and watch movies and that's why we keep reading books and watching movies. He contends that the only reason he reads or watches movies is simple entertainment. He goes to the movies to forget his life and be absorbed in something fun. (A, if you read this and I've misrepresented your thoughts, please feel free to comment and rectify.)The reader will notice that I am currently reading a book by Azar Nafisi. In this book she says, "...what we search for in fiction is not so much reality but the epiphany of truth." This perhaps sounds very high minded, but really, why do we return again and again to story if not because on some deep spiritual level, we need it. Granted, I do not say, "Let's go see Batman Begins. I can't wait to see what I'll learn from it." But I am always grateful when I do leave a film (or finish a book) and feel I have greater insight in to myself or the world in which I live.
Robert McKee, the well known instructor of screenwriting, has much to say on this subject. And I agree with him, so I will quote him. "To retreat behind the notion that the audience simply wants to dump its troubles at the door and escape reality is a cowardly abandonment of the artist's responsibility. Story isn't a flight from reality but a vehicle that carries us on our search for reality, our best effort to make sense out of the anarchy of existence."
I love stories. I love to imagine myself as a hero. I love to get angry at well formed villians. I love that I can laugh and cry and roll my eyes at idiocy. Why, though? Because the stories resonate with my life experience. And often resonate with the life experience that I can no longer remember. Jesus taught in parables so that each person could take meaning from it on the level of understanding he had acheived. Reading a book or watching a movie is never the same twice.
Robert McKee said that humans are constantly trying to understand our exsistence. We have done it through philosophy, science, religion and art. "But today who reads Hegel and Kant without an exam to pass? Science, once the reat explicator, garbles life with complexity and perplexity. Who can listen without cynicism to economists, sociologists, politicians? Religion, for many, has become an empty ritual that masks hypocrisy. As our faith in traditional ideologies diminishes, we turn to the source we still believe in: the art of story...Our appetite for story is a reflection of the profound human need to grasp the patterns of living, not merely as an intellectual exercise, but within a very personal, emotional experience. In the words of playwright Jean Anouilh, 'Fiction gives life its form.'"
So am I not entertained when I go to the movies? Do I approach each work of fiction as a tool to comprehend the complexity and chaos of life? No, of course not. That is why stories are so powerful. They are entertaining. Maybe I do escape my life in the midst of the experience. But they stay with me. I accept and reject their ideologies. I change my perspective after having seen or read some stories. Over time, much of my character is shaped as a result of assimilating stories.
It is too bad some squander this awesome stewardship by creating empty, vapid works. But, on the other hand, perhaps what is empty and vapid to one could be very meaningful to another.

"I'm Mad as Hell, And I'm Not Going to Take It Anymore!"

By the time I publish this, the news could be too old to make the point. On Friday September 3, 2005, NBC aired a live special to help raise funds for Hurricane Relief. Tim McGraw, Faith Hill, Harry Connick, Jr., and Aaron Neville performed in between celebrities’ pleas to the American public to dig into its ample pockets to help the victims of Hurricane Katrina. Celebrities read from a teleprompter desperate statistics of the American Red Cross’s efforts to rescue and relieve. Most of the celebrities were appropriately and solemnly dressed in black blazer; neat and somewhat nicer than street clothes. Then comes Kayne West with Mike Myers. Mike wore the aforementioned black blazer. Mr. West was wearing a trashy striped rugby jersey. I could tell already that we could expect nothing but disrespec’ from this trouble maker. (I read up on him, and apparently, he’s the one responsible for making popular the annoying and, I think, plagiaristic, practice of trying to make hip hop more legit by ripping off other people’s hit songs and sticking them in the middle of the hip hop stuff that I just don’t get---sorry, folks, maybe it’s cuz I’m Scandinavian by heritage. I can neither get down nor jump.)
Back to the telethon. On cue, Mike Myers read seriously from the prompter. Then it was Kayne’s turn. It was immediately obvious that he was not going to read from the teleprompter. Here are some of the things he said: Whenever we see a black man on television, they’re looting. And all the white people are shown helping people. I’m going to talk to my business manager and see how much I can give. (What, and still keep your Hummer and bling?) Then he said something about the Bush administration not helping black people.
Mike Myers remained admirably composed, although, I think I did see fear in his eyes. Just as I was beginning to think they were never going shut the troglodyte up, it was Mike’s turn again, who dutifully read from the teleprompter, trying to salvage the wreck. Ah, but our esteemed grammy winner was not done yet. He got in one more sentence before they finally switched cameras to a startled, improvising Chris Carter. His last words (and hopefully the last words he’s EVER allowed to say live) were, “George Bush hates black people.”
I’ve been thinking about exactly why this bothered me for a few days now and I’ve come to this conclusion. I hate when people push their own political agendas in inappropriate forums. Mr. West’s behavior was self serving and inflammatory.
One event that stars are notorious for abusing happens early each Spring in LaLa Land: the Academy Awards. Celebrities, understand this: you are receiving an award for outstanding achievement in FILMMAKING, not for raising social awareness.
If you want to say your peace, write a blog!
End of Sermon.

I Like Food

Up in the lunchroom where I sometimes work, the multimedia folks were talking about whether or not there would be food when we are living on the other side of the veil. One argued that Jesus ate with the disciples after he was resurrected, which would indicate we could eat if we wanted to. I say, it ain't heaven if there ain't no food!
Here are some foods that I would require in my version of heaven:
cheesecake
dark chocolate
cream of wheat (yes, cream of wheat! Lay off, it's comfort food!)
real mashed potatoes
Cafe Rio's Tres Leches
Mountain Land Vanilla yogurt
pasta
What would you require?
Also, along the lines of food, I would like to share with you some of my favorite restaurants along the Wasatch Front and what I like to eat there!

Ottavio's 69 E. Center St., Provo
Italian
Favorite Dish: Pollo Penne Pesto--It's got pine nuts!
And for Dessert: Zabione (I doubt that I spelled that right.)
Something Special: On weekend nights you're treated to a roving accordianist.

Art City Trolley 256 N. Main, Springville
American
Favorite Dish: The Real McCoy Salad or Trolley Chicken Sandwich
Appetizer: The best buffalo wings ever!
And for Dessert: Russian Cream (She only has this when she's done some catering)
Something Special: Eating in the Trolley car

Thai Ruby 744 E. 820 N., Provo
Thai
Favorite Dish: Pad Thai or Massaman Curry (Better yet, both!)
And for Dessert: Sticky rice and mango
Not so Special: Very little parking

La Carreta 1605 S. State, Orem
Peruvian
Favorite Dish: Tallarines Mixto
Appetizer: Papas a la huancaina
Something Special: all food is cooked to order by the Peruvian lady who owns the place

Zupas 408 W. 2230 N., Provo
Soups and Salads
Favorite Dish: Nuts About Berries salad and Tomato Basil soup with Orzo
Something Special: You get some fresh baked bread and a chocolate covered strawberry with every meal!

The Cinegrill 344 S. 300 E., Salt Lake City
Italian
Favorite Dish: Continental Lasagna with the Cinegrill tossed green salad
Something Special: Live dinner music every night

Rusted Sun Pizzeria 2010 S. State, Salt Lake City
Pizza, etc.
Favorite Dish: Ham and Pineapple Calzone with green peppers added
And for Dessert: Root beer float (made with Breyer's vanilla ice cream)
Something Special: ANY calzone there is something special!

New York Burrito 934 N. State, Orem
Burritos, wraps, etc.
Favorite Dish: Marinated chicken burrito - tomato basil tortilla w/ black beans & spanish rice
And for Dessert: Sub-zero icecream made with custard with pina colada strawberry mix-ins
Something Special: The ice cream is made in front of you using liquid nitrogen to freeze fresh cream or custard or yogurt

Two to Tango 180 W. Center, Orem
Argentine
Favorite Dish: Milanesa Napolitana or Milanesa Completa sandwich
And for Dessert: an eclair type thing filled with dulce de leche
Something Special: LOTS of yummy looking fresh pastry options for dessert

MMMM... All this talk of food has made me very hungry.
Go out and try these places and let me know what you think!

A Trip to the Health Clinic

Today, Moira had her 4 month immunizations. As I held my smiling, cooing, soon to be betrayed infant facing the evil nemisis in the form of a male Latino nurse with bright red scrubs, I had to wonder, as I have many times, with all our technology and scientific advances, why have we not found a nicer way to administer immunizations!?!
So I asked the kind, compentant, and accomodating male Latino nurse in bright red scrubs, why must we traumatize our wee ones with such barbaric practices? Don't get me wrong, I fully agree with and support mass immunization. We are much better off without polio, measles, mumps, rubella, etc., etc., etc. And I also think that those who refuse to immunize their children should be quarantined and given the afformentioned diseases. At best, I think they are ignorant, at worst, selfish and destructive.
But, I digress. Said nurse replied with some nonsense about immunity being in the blood stream and the immunizations being too fragile to be ingested. Ha! I just don't think anyone has tried hard enough to figure out a solution. Either that or it's just another way The Man is gettin' us down!
But what do you think?

Babies, Children, and Body Image

I'm just figuring out this whole blog thing, so things may be a bit rough for a while.
I wanted to title this posting "Babies, Children, and Body Image," but I don't have a place to put a title on this. Maybe it's the template I chose. Maybe I'm a little "Blog challenged."

Today at dinner, my six year old was eating a chicken breast and I noticed a bit of fat on the piece he was about to eat. I took it off and told him it was fat and he shouldn't eat it. He asked, "What is fat?"(Later on at dinner he asked what an Ice Age was and I realized I hadn't paid enough attention in science when I was in school.) I mumbled something about not burning all the calories you take in, but then I thought how nice it would be to not know what fat is. How different would I view my body if I didn't know what fat is. I wouldn't feel bad, I don't think, that I still have 12 pounds of baby fat to lose and a whole size to go before I fit into my prepregnancy clothes. I would buy the kind of ice cream that tastes the best. If I could just see me as a person and not a flabby, frumpy house frau, how would that change my self image?
Whenever I put her in front of a mirror, she grins like she's just seen the best thing since full breasts. She loves what she sees in the mirror--and her thighs look chunkier than mine! (It's true that she is the cutest darn thing I've seen since her brother was that age.) I want her to always smile when she looks in the mirror. I want to always smile when I look in the mirror. Can I change what I feel is important about the way I look. Can I accept a neat appearance and a bright countenance as a perfect reflection, blemishes, wrinkles, bags under the eyes and all?
My aunt lived in South Africa for a few years. She once met an old woman who had lived her life in a village away from "civilization." My aunt took a polaroid of her. When she saw what would be the first ever image of herself, she cried, "I like me!"
How wonderful is that! As a parent, I want my children to be able to look in the mirror with a smile and say, "I like me!" But I think I have to realize that for myself first.
I have decided to start the next time I look in the mirror, and every subsequent time, to smile and say, "I like me!"