Tuesday, May 17, 2016

You know, a rally.

Well, the Russians are at it again. Those doping, low-down sneaks! Will they stop at nothing to win?! In a nutshell there was a whole clandestine government-sponsored switcheroo going on with urine samples at the Sochi Olympics. The guy who was forced by the Kremlin to run it and then forced to resign once it came out has had to flee for his life to sunny LA (do you think I could meet him?), which was a smart move considering that two of his colleagues mysteriously died just months after the story broke. There's been a call to ban Russia from the Olympics. I will sign that petition. Should we have a rally or something? Let's make t-shirts and have a rally. Stop messing with my Olympics, Russia!

Do you also think of this scene from An American Tail when you hear the word rally? I have literally only seen that movie once and yet it comes to mind every single time.


Plus, it's Madeline Kahn, which naturally leads me to think of this:


via GIPHY

Speaking of flames on the side of my face: I think my allergies are trying to tell me something, and that something is that they hate me and want me to be miserable and live the rest of my life as a sniffly, snotty, droopy-eyed zombie who doesn't have any friends because I've driven them all away with my constant nose-blowing and throat-clearing and awkward ear-scratching. It is the worst it has ever been, folks. If I were a cartoon character I would have a cloud of pollen over my head and beehives coming out of my ears.

I had a student in the institute a few weeks ago who had a bad cold and sniffed - and I'm not exaggerating because I timed them - about every 20 seconds. And I put up with it for an hour. AN HOUR!! Finally, I couldn't take it anymore so I went over to him with a box of tissue and said, "Darling Child, I know you're feeling miserable, but either you blow your nose or you leave the building because I can't handle your sniffing any longer." And he apologized and then DIDN'T BLOW HIS NOSE AND CONTINUED TO SNIFF!!! Only quieter but I could still hear him because I am a neurotic human being with mutant selective hearing. So I kicked him out. And when I pointed him toward the door he said, "Where am I supposed to go?!" I told him I didn't know but not to the library and not to class and not around any other human beings because he clearly did not care that he was gross and germy and totally unfit for society. One of my job responsibilities is to help these kids be functioning adults and one of the realities of adulthood is that when your nose is full of boogers, you blow it. I am absolutely going to needlepoint that.

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

Dole Whip It Good

Gina, Chris, and Levi came into town this weekend. As you might know, Chris teaches ballroom dance at UVU and his touring team was in town to perform at Disneyland so Gina and Levi tagged along and then I tagged along when they went to the park.

Some observations:

1. Levi was both apprehensive and thrilled with the day. Mostly thrilled. Autopia was a mistake because we told him that he would get to drive a car and he took that to mean that he had to actually drive a car and the look on his face as he was driving was just too much. Like at any moment he would lose concentration and they would crash and the day would be ruined. Gina eventually took over. I remember having the exact same reaction when I was a kid although that could have been because my dad would shout out, "We're going to run into those rocks! Keep turning!!" He also loved to tell us that those were actual cannonballs being shot at us on Pirates of the Caribbean. It took years to not instinctively duck. 

2. I saw MANY middle aged men roaming the park alone, most of them in Disney gear. Um, what gives? I know that plenty of people love Disney with a fiery passion and, as I discovered later that night, there is a bit of joy in being by yourself at the park - who loves a solo adventure more than I? - but don't these fellas have jobs? Maybe they're all independently wealthy eccentrics, in which case why didn't I befriend one in the hopes of finally finding a Wealthy Benefactor. Dumb, Rachel. Really dumb.

3. So you know there's an app that tells you the wait time for rides. But did you know that it also tells you the wait time for a Dole Whip? Technology has changed our lives in so many delightful ways. 

4. The Peter Pan line is always the longest. But it is also always worth it because Peter Pan for president, is what I say. 

5. Gina reminded me as we were in line for Small World that she was the first person I went on that ride with. The same could be said for most of the rides. I've spent more time at Disneyland with Gina than anyone else. We should get matching ears or something to commemorate. 

6. The rest of the gang went home to put Levi to bed but I wanted to see the parade and fireworks so I stuck around. The crowd had already gathered but I just made my way to a good location and asked whatever group looked the friendliest if I could squeeze in with them. I was between a elderly couple from Arizona and a cute little family from up north. We became fast friends. The beauty of Disneyland is that most people are genuinely happy to be there. They're tired, but they're full of good cheer.

7. A warning to people who take videos of firework shows: prepare to be judged! (Ahem) What are you doing with your life?! You're wasting it, is what you're doing. Fireworks are definitely one of those things that are better enjoyed in the moment and not through the small screen of your phone. And certainly not the next day on that phone. You miss what makes fireworks great: the flash of light on your face and the boom that you can feel in your chest. Taking a video of fireworks is like putting your uneaten french fries in a take-away box. Nobody really enjoys french fries the next day. And are you ever going to watch that video? You're not! And heaven help the poor sap you try to show it to. A fully grown woman who has probably seen dozens of firework shows in her lifetime was standing in front of me and drained her battery recording the entire spectacle. And guess what I just did right this minute? I looked up "Disneyland Fireworks 2016" on YouTube and found several videos of the full show. Look, do what you want with your life, but remember that while you're recording there is a short girl standing behind you, judging you as she jostles around looking for a better view other than through your phone. (End of Judgement.) (Who am I kidding. I will never stop judging you on this!)

8. Look at this face:

Thursday, April 21, 2016

Dearly Beloved...

Oh gosh guys.




















Cynde texted me with the news because it's important to hear these things from your best friend. And then everyone started texting. Even my Mom! And Andrea posted on Facebook that she was waiting for a tribute blog post and I said to hold on because I had to get a sparkly black caftan and turban to mourn properly and then she responded, "Take all the time you need. If you can't find the turban, I hear a raspberry beret works too."

ZING, Andrea! I could leave it at that because you can't beat it. I laughed until I cried.

But I won't leave it at that because we need some music. The man was a star.

First, let's watch this video of Let's Go Crazy, which features two incredible performance - one by Prince and the other by Prince's feathery cape:




Forget the caftan, where can I get that outfit?

And now for some Purple Rain because this was the song that got me hooked on him over 30 years ago.



Next, this chart of Prince's hair through the years. I would absolutely hang this in my bathroom.


And finally, how much are we going to miss his epic side-eye.


prince gifs photo: prince side eye prince.gif




via GIPHY





So much!

Let's all go sit in our cars and weep as we belt Purple Rain.

Monday, April 18, 2016

Small town charm

My sister-in-law Kylea is from a small town in Nevada called Logandale. It is halfway between Las Vegas and St. George right off the 15 in this little valley but you can't even see it from the highway. You probably didn't even know it was there, right. I had driven that road dozens of times (what California Mormon hasn't?) before I met my friend Sara, who is also from there, and even then I didn't exactly know where it was until I went there for Casey and Kylea's wedding. And here's the crazy thing, besides Kylea and Sara, Camille's roommate is also from Logandale. How in the world do I know three people from this little tiny town? Furthermore, Sara's mom lives right behind Kylea's house and Kylea's mom has lunch with Camille's roommate's mom on the regular. It's like the Stars Hollow of the Desert and I know half the population. I wonder who their Taylor Doose is. 

Anyway, Kylea brought the kids out there to visit her family so naturally the Knechts descended. We like Kylea's family a lot. They feel like our family only younger and more tan and they cook better food. Camille drove down from Salt Lake and Katie and I drove up and we had a lovely 20 hours of snuggling with the kids and dancing and painting our nails and running around their enormous backyard picking wildflowers and generally loving on them before having to get back.

But worth it, because look at these kids.




Sigh. They're just the greatest. Dumb Oregon.

Small town life is so charming. Sure there's no Target (deal breaker), but there's a real draw to going into your local ice cream parlor and literally knowing everyone in there, which Kylea did. When we got there we found out that her youngest brother wasn't going to be home that night because he was going to the school for a senior lock-in, or lock-down, or something like that. This is a senior activity where the kids bring board games and hang out in the gym all night long with just two adults supervising. We were initially confused by the term because lock-down means something very different in California schools. Stop being so cute, Logandale! 

Off-shoot conversation: what's with all the random trailers in the middle of the desert. Have you noticed this? Like, you're literally miles away from civilization and there will be an outcropping of derelict trailers. Who lives there? Who dragged his family somewhere between Baker and Barstow and said, "This is where we're going to settle, Mama." Because men like that always call their wives Mama. Are they so opposed to city dwelling that they can't even stomach Baker?! If Logandale is the Stars Hollow of the desert then Baker is its roach motel. You have to either be desperate for solitude or running from the law if you can't handle Baker. And it's never just a trailer. It's like a mini settlement. Like three trailers and several pick-up trucks and some haphazardly planted palm trees that are now dying because even palm trees need some water. What sort of dream life did these people envision for themselves? And at what point did they abandon it? I have so many questions. 

Additionally, I have a million questions about that enormous solar plant at the state line. What the heck is going on there?! Why are those towers glowing like the Eye of Sauron?! I'm all for alternative energy but yikes!

But as we were driving by it Freedom by Wham! came on and you know I can't pass up reminding you how great this video is. You're welcome.


Tuesday, April 12, 2016

The Art Society Does the Getty

The Art Society kids were on spring break a few weeks ago and when Heather asked them what they wanted to do they said, "Hang out with Rachel on one of the days." Oh geez. My heart. So we went to the Getty. 

If you're in LA and you have time for just one massive art museum choose the Getty over LACMA. Yes, it's farther and you will feel like you've been in traffic for your entire life, but it is so worth it. It's free, it's in the prettiest spot, the art is amazing, the gardens are restorative, and the tram ride up is fun. I promise you will feel like a more cultured, elegant, enlightened, and sun-kissed person while up there. 

Also, you should take children. Because that's a hoot. You get to follow them around and say, "Don't put your hands on that priceless work of art." Which is really rich coming from me because all I want to do at a museums is touch the art. I've been called out by several security guards for getting too close. So I get it, kids. I totally get it.

Here's something you should know about my Art Society Kids. They are engaging, curious, and fun. They are up for adventure. When I ask them to do something silly or thoughtful, they do it and they do it well. If I ask, "Which painting in this gallery would you hang in your bathroom," they will answer not just with the choice but why they chose it. And they'll be genuinely amazed at what they're seeing. I don't know what other kids are like but these kids are the perfect museum companions as well as totally great life-long buddies. I said to Kaiya as we were walking through the gardens, "Isn't it great that 30 years from now we'll still be friends and still go to museums and have adventures together?" Then she grabbed my hand and said yes. How many other childless spinsters are lucky enough to have that?

How about some pictures.

Quinn didn't want to take off his mask he made in the kids room. Even when he passed out before we made it out of the parking lot. Art is exhausting!


























Near the end of the day Sammy started posing like a statue in every gallery we went into. She's too much!























This is titled "Elegant Lady Writing at Her Desk with a Dog Beside Her". As the kids say, #goals.


























I made Jarron stand still for 30 seconds so I could arrange the mirrors for this shot. That's a tough thing for him to do but worth it.

























The most glorious thing they have at the Getty is this bed. They have a mini version of it in the kids room.























Love these faces


It was such a treat to have Heather and her amazing bangs with us.


And finally, will someone please talk me out of planting bougainvillea. It's such a pain to maintain but I love it so much!




Monday, April 4, 2016

Roll Heaven

1. Does anyone else get stressed out by baking bread? Cooking is easy enough because you can taste as you go but with baking you have to hope that you got all the measurements right and you kneaded the dough enough times and the temperature was perfect for the yeast to work its magic and you sacrificed the goat properly in the light of a full moon. Then you pop it in the oven with a prayer in your heart. Well, on  Easter I was in charge of the rolls and if there is one thing I really care about at holiday meals, it is the rolls. And if there is one thing that has ruined many perfectly lovely holiday meals is me making sub-par rolls. I feel like Ruby from the Great British Baking show every time I have to make them.

Get a grip, Ruby!
All my life I've been trying to find the perfect roll recipe. I like rolls to be enormous and fluffy and have those layers that kind of peel away. You know what I'm talking about. And you guys, I did it. I made those rolls - and I did it entirely by accident! I totally botched three steps on the recipe and yet they still turned out like roll heaven. So now the question stands: do I follow the recipe exactly the next time or do I make the same mistakes? It was America's Test Kitchen Fluffy Dinner Rolls from their baking cookbook, which you should own. Amen.

2. In other success news, I changed my first sprinkler today. This morning at 5:30 I woke up to a gusher outside my window. I think the guys who mow our lawns must have run over it. So I got Dad on the phone and had him talk me through it. Here's how you do it: 1. unscrew broken one, 2. take it to Home Depot and find a similar one, 3. screw in new one, 4. test it, 5. do a victory dance when it works, 6. consider getting a job at Home Depot since you're there all the time now. The hardest part was digging the old one out enough to unscrew. I was covered in mud and felt like a real champion. Now, if I could just be more successful at growing stuff my Yard Master status would be secure.

3. Maybe you're really missing Commander Kelly's Instagram feed from space now that he's home. Well, never fear, fellow space nerds! There are always astronauts in the ISS and most of them are on Instagram. All three of the non-Russians have accounts. There's Tim Peake (astro_timpeake), Tim Kopra (astro_tim) and Jeff Williams (astro_jeffw). Have a look.

Thursday, March 24, 2016

A Week

Ugh, it's been a week of sad things for people I know and love. Like horrible violence, and death, and cancer. And as no sad news go without a good cry from me, I've shed a few too many tears.

But it has also been a week of happy things for people I know and love. Like babies being born and mother's waking up from comas. I'm not even kidding you guys, a coma! I tell you, life. It's just been really big this week. And in case you are worried, I cried for the good stuff too. If there is something to cry over I volunteer as tribute. Which reminds me that I need to recommend Sephora's ginseng and green tea eye masks to you. They are your puffy crying eye's worst enemy.

So today, after I had to shut the institute down early because there was a bomb threat across the street on campus (for crying out loud!) I ran errands and watered my flowers (Spring! You are saving me with all your glory!) and turned on the Stevie Wonder Pandora station and had a dance party while I made dinner. Tacos. Of course. Because what else do you eat during a week like this? And because Camille sent out this question in a group text to the sibs: "If you had to choose between eating tacos every day or being skinny would you choose hard or soft shell." Soft. Although there's no denying the appeal of a good crunchy taco.

Here, watch these baby bunnies in cups. 


Thursday, March 10, 2016

Business Casual Bro

This morning, while waiting for a bagel, a Business Casual Bro got in line behind me. You all are familiar with the BCB, I assume. Dresses well but talks like he just left the frat house, is constantly on the phone to one of his BCB friends talking loudly about deals they've made and plans for the weekend*, says dude a lot but in kind of a creepy way, yells, "get in the hole!" when watching golf, will probably vote for Trump. And in this case, stands too close to you in line. One of the best things about America is that we value our personal space. Not having to touch the sweaty masses is our birthright. The general spacing rule for strangers in public, unless you're administering CPR or putting an assailant in a full-nelson, is that someone should be able to comfortably walk between you. A large person. Two is better. The BCB was no more than a lithe Russian ballerina's width away - front to back, not side to side. I had to do the old half-turn trick to let him know to back it up a bit but he didn't move. Even with my shoulder in his chest he was too busy talking on the phone to his BCB pal about the sweet San Antonio deal they were working on to notice. I tried to move forward but then I would be encroaching on the lady in front of me. It was quite a pickle. And then he kept grossly whispering, "Get it, dog," to his buddy. No doubt San Antonio would be very lucrative for the both of them.

In other line news I was in one at the grocery store last week and a checker from the 15 items or less lane came over and said she could check me out. But I had way more than 15 items in my cart and said so. I am, in my heart of hearts, a rule follower. Even if I have 16 items in my basket I will not do it. And if I see someone in line who has more than 15 items my fiery rage cannot be contained. She said it wasn't a big deal. But let me tell you, it FELT like a big deal. I wanted to tell the people who got in line behind me that I was INVITED. I didn't just slip in like some no-account hooligan who thinks that all these cans of chickpeas count as one item because they're the same. They're not the same!!


*They all will be where I will be, which is Indian Wells, CA for my annual Tennis in the Blazing Desert Sun Weekend with Camille. They will all be wearing salmon colored shorts and Roger Federer hats. That place is teeming with BCBs. 

Friday, March 4, 2016

On being social and other things

I go through periods where all I want to be is a hermit living under my covers watching Kimmy Schmidt. And that's lovely. But then I start to think that I should get out and be amongst humans and it's usually when I get to that point that my calendar starts filling up. It's nice that it works out that way. Which makes me think that maybe I'm giving off vibes that people pick up. Like, "No. I'm hermitting right now." or "Yes, please. Take me out into the sunshine." For those of you who are around me on the regular please don't feel hurt when I give off the hermit vibe. It's not you, it's me. I genuinely like you. I just really also like my silent bedroom.

Which isn't so silent right now as there is a pack of feral girls over at the school behind my house having a shrieking contest? I think? I mean, they're really going for it. Aside from the fact that it's making my ears bleed, I do think it's kind of charming because my childhood friend Shanley and I would go over to the school and do all sorts of random things. Like run around the field on foggy mornings. Or bring pencil and paper and write letters to marine biologists with questions about sea horses. Shanley was desperate to get some. I do wonder sometimes what has become of her.

On childhood, longtime chum Valerie was in town for a few weeks and when she brought her girls over for a visit the first thing she did was walk to the side yard to check out the wood pile which is no longer there. She and my sisters used to spend many hours after school on that wood pile, avoiding nails and stuff. It's been moved and organized and covered with a tarp, which is a real shame for all the future children who will play back there. Ah, youth. Keep screaming girls!

Val and James also came over the other night and watched Cdm. Scott Kelly land on the Kazakhstan steppe after his year in space. They brought Marinelli's and we toasted space and Mars and the astronauts and exploration! We also really felt for Sergey, one of his fellow travelers, because he looked like we all would look after a rumbley flight through the atmosphere. That is to see, barfy. They pulled him out of the capsule first and immediately he had the barf bag to his mouth. Poor guy. I would literally be lolloping out of the top and wailing if I were in his shoes so I get it. They carried him over to his chair and bundled him up and then pulled the other two out. They both looked hail and hardy and poor Sergey looked like a wet rag. At one point someone started combing his hair and it was such a pathetic moment that I loved him instantly.

Where was I even going with this? Oh, right, I'm being social now. And as such my friend Jill and I have started a regular lunch date. Jill and I taught seminary together for 3 years. I had the freshmen and she the sophomores. And every day we would meet up after class and talk it out - about the kids, and doctrine, and chocolate. And I've missed it since moving away so we've instituted lunch. And today we went to the Nordstrom's Cafe. And here's the story about that (Is that not the most Perd Hapley thing I've ever written?) When I was younger and going to the mall more regularly I used to park in the Nordstrom's covered parking and take the elevator up. There was always parking I would cut across Norstrom's to get into the mall because their perfume aisle was far less aggressive then say, Macy's, which is a gauntlet. There used to be a sign in or near the elevator with the departments and I would always notice that the cafe was on the top floor. And in my mind it seemed like such an elegant thing to do - to spend the morning shopping at Nordstrom's with friends, possibly getting some kind of frivolous accessory or a tweed suit, and then go get a salad at the cafe. It was all so very ladies-who-lunch. I never shopped at Nordstrom's of course. Only Ladies of a Certain Age and Tax Bracket did that. So when Jill suggested our next lunch should be at the cafe I was all in because I am of age and also living the life of Elegant Leisure. Although I still don't make enough to shop there. It wasn't as fancy as I had hoped. I mean, the servers were wearing matching t-shirts, for crying out loud. But it did live up to the expectation that I was eating a salad with a friend. We are officially ladies who lunch. And I did peruse the accessories on my way out.

Monday, February 29, 2016

All Hail the Papal Countess

Firstly, Happy Leap Day to one and all


Secondly, on Saturday we went into LA with our friends Rex and Vickie to some of our favorite places to eat. The intent was to go to one place then go to the temple then another place, to kind of space things out. But then we found out that the temple was closed that week so we went and got food anyway but in between went to the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels instead. It's always fun to take people there because it's pretty impressive. It doesn't exactly look like a regular cathedral because it's really modern. But it is cavernous and there are all of these cool tapestries of saints and the organ is just grand. Did I ever tell you about the time I was there with some friends and there happened to be a wedding going on? The place is so big that we sat in the back with a tour group and reveled in the glory of that organ playing the wedding march. Wowee! My bones rattled.

When you go you must visit the mausoleum downstairs. If only to say hello to Gregory Peck. I spotted something that I had never seen on any of my previous visits. In the back of the mausoleum is an alter where Daniel and Bernadine Donohue are buried (placed? entombed? resting? I don't even know.) And on their tombstones it says that he was a Gentleman in Waiting to His Holiness and she was a Papal Countess. What is this?! A Papal Countess! You know for sure there is a turban involved with this title. Definitely large jewelry. I looked it up and it turns out a pope can bestow the title of  Papal Count and Countess to wealthy patrons basically. This makes sense. And they did sound like decent people who helped unwed mothers and such. But geez, what a hefty title. Pope John XXIII gave them the titles. And if you're interested, his bone marrow is encased in a decorative thingy for your viewing pleasure. The security guard who pointed this out kept referring to him just as 23. This kind of grated me as much as when people of my own faith say, "Well, Monson said..." Heathens.

Incidentally, rates for the mausoleum start at $50,000. So start saving your pennies if you want to be next to Atticus.