I am pretty sure life doesn't get any better than this.

Ok, for starters, I took pictures and it is my every intention to upload them with this blog entry. But that may take the afternoon. So initially you will see a skeleton entry. But soon enough, there will be images. How exciting.


First, I took a picture of my cute little duplex where I live now, with the big tree in front. See!


Then I will add some other (various and sundry) photos. Various and sundry is one of my favorite phrases.


Then I will tell you about my weekend. Life doesn't get any better than last weekend. And I am not just talking about the Football Game. Especially since you know that football outcomes hardly affect my life, other than to make me smile briefly when BYU wins. I recognize that it does not affect the education I received from them in any way. It's merely the very human emotion of pride, popping out to say "hello, they did well, and you have every right to wear a shirt with their logo on it, and when they do well, it makes the logo cool." And I smile and move on with my life. Of course, I wear shirts with their logo on them anyways, I just feel a little cooler when they win.

Tangent.

Back to the real reason the weekend was great. It started with Friday night, when I drove up to Roy to visit the Szymanski clan. Ok, not so much clan as Bryan Brittany and Caleb. And not so much visit as mooch off of them for their washer and dryer. But two loads of laundry later we had read many notes passed to Bryan during his High school years, teased him a little for all of the heart breaking he did, and had in general an extremly pleasant evening. I love those kinds of relationships where the friendship is as comfortable on day one as it is 4 years later, and where we can grow and change and move through all of the stages of life together and seperately, but no matter what we are still just as comfortable with each other. Plus, my clothes are clean.

On Saturday I woke up early. I watched the sunrise by opening my window and then curling back up in my bed with Red Blankie. If you have not met Red Blankie, then you are missing out on a major figure of my life. Red Blankie has travelled halfway around the world with me. It has been my companion since the day I was born (actually, before that, according to my mom), and has not left my bed since then. Even when I am bedless, Red Blankie stays by my side through the nights, keeping away monsters and the ever-constant "Ankle Grabber" which lurks under all furniture. Red Blankie joined me for the beautiful sunrise on saturday, and I knew it would be a perfect day. After sunrise, a friend called me, and we chatted for an hour about the blessings and fun things in life. When I was finally ready to get out of bed, I had no anxiety issues at all, partly due to the conversation, and partly because I had done laundry, so I knew I could choose to wear whatever I wanted to.

I got dressed in my favorite jeans, a comfy t-shirt, a hoodie, and some beautifully mismatched socks. (one striped, one leopard print). I put my perfectly mismatched feet into an old pair of sneakers, and headed outside to work on a dreaded task. I had to continue un-packing my car. I hate all things packing and un, but the task seemed less frightening with the prospect of a perfect day ahead. I spent about an hour bringing things in from the car, finding places for them to belong, and then my ADD took control, and I left the job unfinished while I ate some breakfast.

(I know you are thinking that this doesn't sound like all that great of a day yet, but here's where it gets good.)

I returned to my car, this time with a water bottle, a copy of Milton's Paradise Lost, and my camera, and I drove to the nearest canyon I could find. Turns out, it's Millcreek Canyon. I drove until I found a suitable trailhead, and then I hiked. Somewhere along the hike, I wandered off onto a smaller trail. I was worried about getting lost, until I found some random picnic benches, hidden away. There wasn't anyone around, but I figured that if there were picnic benches, then this must be a real trail. I continued onward. Suddenly the trail turned into a dry creek bed, and there was no trail left, but there was a large rock, just the right size for sitting and reading. This was providential, since my Minnesota-Altitude lungs combined with my depression-weight-gain were beginnning to combine against me. I sat and read for a few hours. Bees came, some small animals came, and occasionally I could hear a hiker on the trail that was apparently some 60 feet above me. Not often enough to bug me, just often enough to reassure me that if a bear came, my screams would be heard. So again, no anxiety. Plus, how can anyone have anxiety in the mountains? The world is perfect there!

Just as Satan was tricking an archangel to tell him where the garden of Eden was (remember, Milton?) I thought I should perhaps make an effort to return to civilization. I hiked back down, finding a few red leaves along the way. The mountains are going to be stunning in a week or so.

I proceeded to drive home, but got distracted at the chapel. A meeting was ending, and I had my music books in the car, so I slipped inside while the door was unlocked to practice. I practiced for a few hours, again without noticing the passage of time, until the faint sounds of a basketball alerted me to life. Basketball meant it was probably later in the afternoon. 3:30. Just enough time to run home and change before dinner with Aunt Elaine.

We met at Olive Garden. Aunt Elaine is my Grandfather's older sister. She lived in Wisconsin most of her grown up years, moved there on her own as a child psychologist/social worker in her mid 20's. (when she retired she moved to Minneapolis, where she spent some years spoiling my siblings and myself with theatre shows, fancy dinners, and more handbag cast offs than Saks Fifth Avene and Bloomindales combined.) She grew up in UT, but after treating the children of her high school friends for a few years, she decided she had to go someplace where she didn't know the families. You have to be a pretty feisty woman to pick up and move halfway across the country alone, in the 1950's, and she was feisty. And she stayed feisty. She is about 4 feet tall, and every bit as tiny as tiny should be. But best of all, she is crazy. Certifiable. You know that shopping disorder, where people buy stuff compulsively? She has it. The real thing. And she amasses these piles of things that stay in the boxes, or still have the tags on, and that she rarely even remembers having purchased, but she continues shopping. QVC, the mall, anywhere. It's a good thing she hasn't met amazon.com yet. (I mentioned something about the internet to her, and she said "oh, I've heard of that!") Add to the shopping thing the fact that she has been single for some 90 years, she loves children and knows more about them than someone who has raised 20 of them, and she knew me when I was 10 years old. Then throw on top of that her favorite color, powder blue. Every home she has had has been powder blue. The walls, the carpet, the furniture, its as if the color spectrum shifts when you walk into her residence. You have to check the ceiling occasionally to remember what white is. And, she drives the same car that I once accidentaly locked the keys in when I was 9. (traumatic story for me, actually, if you're curious just ask.) That's right, she still drives. A big nasty reddish brown sedan from 1985 or 6. SLC drivers beware. I'm still not sure how she sees over the sterring wheel.



So Aunt Elaine and I met for dinner at the Olive Garden in Sugarhouse, because there is good shopping in Sugarhouse. Not that we were going shopping, I think she just felt better knowing that there we decent stores close by. We talked about everything from Lingerie shopping (akward!) to whether or not it was ok to support the Braves, since they were in Wisconsin for a while, but they played against the Twins in a World Series (when they were in Atlanta. I remember that. Twins won, becuase the Braves pitcher walked Kent Hrbeck home in the 11th inning. Aren't you impressed with my sports knowledge today!) She told me about growing up with my Grandpa, and his car and the football games they would go to and the hikes they went on, and his job at the ice cream parlor, and her working 40 hrs a week while attending grad school full time. In the 50's. I told you, she's pretty incredible. She made me order dessert because she wanted to finish her entire plate of lasagna. Do you know any 4 ft tall 90 yr old ladies who can down an entire helping of Olive Garden Lasagna? I thought not. It was a grand experience.

I went home around 7 pm, thinking I had just finished a great day, when suddenly the day got even better. The teachers I used to work with up in Roy called, they were going to see "Mamma Mia" at the Gateway, it started in 20 minutes, and they were leaving a ticket for me at the door. Of course I went. We sang along with all of the songs, and when the credits rolled with the music video and the blue spandex jumpsuits, we got up and danced. After we played a few video games, a round of Dance Dance revolution, and then we went our seperate ways.

Sunday Morning, I had regional conference. It was in the conference center at 10 am. A new experience for me, regional conference in the BIG building. But I didn't want to miss Music and the Spoken word. So I got up early again, and went to their rehearsal before I slipped over to the confernce center. The advantage to attending huge important meetings alone is that you get to be the person who fills in the leftover seats up front. The ushers kept telling me to go farther up, until I was in the 10th-ish row. And Elder Ballard and President Monson spoke. It was awesome. My only complaint was that the organist played "reverently, quietly". Who, given an opportunity to play the Conference Center Organ, one of the best in the world, chooses "reverently quietly" for prelude? While 20,000 seats are being filled? I comfort myself by believing that it was the organist's personal joke. As in: *snort* let's hear 20,000 people be "reverently, quietly"

Now do you see why it was the perfect weekend? I had it all. Well, there are a few things that I might have wanted to add to it. I didn't make it down for a scrabble game with grandpa sunday night. And there wasn't a choir at the regional conference. And I wasn't singing in any choirs. But I wonder, if I asked for anything more, if my head would have exploded off of my shoulders in happiness. Then I couldn't have enjoyed it at all.

PS. My favortie flower is probably considered a weed, especially here in Utah where it lines roadsides and chokes out all other life. But it is in bloom right now, so in the spirit of posting pictures, here it is! Hello Brown-Eyed-Susan.