C'est magnifique!

Ah Paris. What a dream. I still can't believe I actually made it to Paris, and boy was it a whirlwind! For those of you wishing to live vicariously through my adventures, here is my version of Paris in four days.

Day 1: After a 10 hour flight and 2 hour train ride, arrive at the crowded, smoke filled train station. Drag your luggage half a mile down the creepy, sexy streets (this became the nickname of all the streets we passed of an adult nature) and find yourself standing in front of a huge wooden door in a Parisian alley way. Enter the secret code and step into a beautiful hidden courtyard. Enter the second secret code and enter the building. Drag your luggage up five flights of a super skinny, spiral stair case. Five flights. The blue carpet and the fact it is Paris made it worth while. Now enter the tiniest apartment a la IKEA you've ever seen in your life. It was adorable. A pit stop is necessary, you've been traveling all day. Head back out into the Paris air and on to the Louvre - it's four miles away, you say? I would never walk that far in the states, but when are you going to be this close again, plus you have your Dr Scholls on - what's stopping you? Wander/get lost in the streets along the way, taking in the sights, smells and luxury you've always dreamt about. Rest your weary feet while starring at the Parisian sky and watching the illegal selling of flashing, flying helicopters. If they weren't 7€, I would have illegally bought one because they were awesome. Stop for a fresh crepe on the way back. I swear, you've never tasted anything so brilliant in your life. Head back to the rented Parisian hideaway, falling asleep before you head hits the pillow.

Day 2: Awake with the Parisian birds...and trash man. Find another pastry to surprise your taste buds and tackle the Paris metro. As it turns out, even Dr Scholls can't handle 8 more miles of straight walking. There you are standing outside of Notre Dame. It is as daunting and beautiful as it looks in the history books. I've never seen more intricate handiwork in stone, wood and glass in all my life. Check. On to the long line for the famous St Chapelle just in time for the skies to open up and dump out more rain that Texas has seen in 2 years combined. Huddle under the chapel entrance with all the other Asian tourists. Check. Stop at a quaint street side cafe to enjoy a bucket of mussels for lunch where the adorable French waiter takes pity on pretty American tourists and teaches them how to properly eat mussels. You use them as forks - of course! Forget trying to avoid second hand smoke induced cancer, Parisians love their tobacco as much as their mineral water. Both are unavoidable in this town. After sipping down the 7€ Dt Coke head to Museum d'Orsay. I was surprised to find out how much I enjoyed museums, considering I always felt morally opposed to them. However, after 45 min of starring at darkly lit galleries on a full stomach of Parisian mussels you are going to fall asleep staring at a sculpture...while still standing. The best part of the Orsay, the French bodyguard stopping to tell me how beautiful my smile was. But oh no, the day is not over yet, you still have the sparkling Eiffel tower to visit. About face and head to the south bank to join a South African high school trip on a boat cruise down the Seine. Paris is even more beautiful at night and on the top of every hour, even the Eiffel tower sparkles just to prove it's unattainable glory. Oh and there are the flying buttresses...oops - how did we forget to see those up close and personal when we were there just there hours ago? Silly goose. After the lovely, but extremely chilly cruise, stop by another cafe for your first French macaroon. And again, nothing compares. Asleep with a smile.

Day 3: Hop on the train to Versailles...the ultimate residence of decadence. It certainly does not disappoint. Just walking through the gilded halls, with all the marble, the gold, the mirrors, the statues, oh such extravagance. It's truly remarkable and rather easy to imagine how ticked the French were to find the monarchy dancing and eating their cares away while the people starved in the countryside. Get lost in the acres and acres of pristine manicured gardens. How many statues and fountains does a mansion need? The answer is none, but a dozen certainly makes for a wondrous site to behold for a bright-eyed American. Versailles has so much to take in, a half day barely does it justice, nevertheless, more of Paris awaits! Returning to the Louvre, there is another long list of must sees. Be careful of lines in which you are not 100% sure what you are waiting for. You may think it's the Venus, but really it's a terribly boring Asian empire exhibit, that just ate 45 min of your precious time. Ay, yi yi. No worries, on to the real Venus, the Picasso's and of course the Mona Lisa. If you're not careful, the Louvre will eat you alive, I managed to escape just in time to enjoy a midnight dinner in the open French air, following up with the most delicious chocolate cakey thing I've ever had in my life. Dreaming in French at this point.

Day 4: Last chance to take in all of Paris. Head to one of the most famous flea markets and find the perfect tea set for your traveling buddy. A must have, so on to the hunt for an ATM - like a mirage you can only find when you don't need one - to get the Euros necessary. Watch out for the hundreds of 'one in a lifetime deals' along the north end of the street. They can smell the Euros burning in you purse, hold on tight. Head back to the fancy part of town to explore the high end shopping in the malls built in castles. Grab a few Parisian scarfs, perfume samples, macaroons and head back to the Eiffel tower. Pick one of three ridiculously long lines. Forget trying to decode them, it's a trick and you'll just end up in the stair line. You've just walked 50 miles across Paris, what's a few thousand more steps, straight up? Besides, the view is totally worth it! Climbing down, you realize it's time to leave the city of magic. Pick up the last souvenirs on the way back to the apartment. Drag your bags back down 5 flights of the old windy staircase and back down to the train station, this time avoiding all sexy streets. Haul your bags back on the chunnell on through the 20 mile tunnel under the English Chanel. Deep breath, did all of that really happen? Yes, and on to the next string of adventures in England!

Au revoir, Paris! You sure stole my heart.

TWAIB

(Two Weeks Abroad in Brief)

• Paris is as memorizing as they say it is.
• European men wear purses and somehow it works.
• The metro is always hot and stinky. Perfume is a big seller.
• If you walk 50 miles, the back of your knees hurt.
• We have no idea how bread or chocolate is supposed to taste.
• Museums are designed to put you asleep, especially the famous ones. It’s the weird ones that are fun.
• I only looked at the Mona Lisa through my camera lens.
• A man only has to compliment my smile to win my heart; a French accent helps.
• Street food in Paris is better than half our fancy restaurants.
• There are 4 liters to a gallon, bringing us to $8 a gallon. Ouch.
• Don’t order pork belly in London. It’s a mean trick.
• Roomy roads are an under appreciated luxury.
• French women wear stilettos everywhere.
• English women are normal sizes. They really are my people.
• Versailles is a tall and spacious building…and it is glorious.
• Past royalty are generally all very unattractive.
• Mineral water is body drano.
• The Lourve looks exactly like it does in the Da Vinci Code.
• American tourists are loud and obnoxious…not me though.
• If you don’t order a full Cornish breakfast, the locals will give you dirty looks.
• Buying jewelry abroad just feels fancier.
• It is possible to eat your weight in pastries and still lose 5 pounds…if you walk everywhere. (Cars have ruined us)
• Stone circles are super cool in the day, but uber creepy at night. I scream loud and run suprisngly fast.
• British grass is so green it looks like 70s carpet, but they make it look good.
• They have as many castles in every town as we have Walgreens.
• I still think it’s weird there are actual dead people inside churches, but the caskets are very impressive.
• Taking two weeks off to wander around Paris and the English countryside really is a fairytale, and I rocked it.

Yeah, you're looking at this.

So...I shake my groove thing at the grocery store. In my yoga pants.

I got really excited and bought mini Triscuits, because they are MINI!

I singtalk to the mangoes. And the bananas...and the cereal.

People don't think I'm crazy, right?

Nah. They love it.

Semicolon P

So...recently, I've found myself turning emoticons into actual words in my every day vocab. The top of my list has to be sadface. I'm not sure when it started, but for some reason I find it more powerful to say "sadface" instead of actually using the sad face icon. Occasionally, I'll throw in the more complicated ones like winkface and winkPface, but mostly it's the simple ones like happyface, sadface, and moneyface. Does this mean I'm feeling nostalgic and reverting back to the time before instant messaging ruled all? Or does it mean texting has now taken over my reality and my worlds a colliding in a Matrixy coma state style of confusion?!

For now, I think it's cute so I'll keep doing it, but one thing is for certain - the moment I start LOLZing out loud instead of actually laughing out loud someone must put me down.

The Miracle of Quinoa

Some time ago I was taking this nutrition class during my lunch break. They provided healthy meals and they were actually delicious. One of my favorites quickly became something I’d never heard of, quinoa pilaf with chicken. Quinoa was like this magical little grain. Not quite rice, pasta or couscous. It was filling, super healthy and it was delicious. I began my hunt for the uncooked grain and I was going to conquer it and change my life. I soon found that it was in fact a health foodie trend and variations of quinoa were everywhere. It was a word of wisdom miracle!

I promptly bought a bag of quinoa with a vow to master the art of the old, but newly famous grain. I put it in my pantry. And there it sat. It wasn’t entirely my fault, for six months I lived in a box. Yeah, it had a kitchen, but you couldn’t actually stand in the kitchen and cook anything. You had stand in the bathroom and reach over with a stick because there wasn’t room enough for both you and food. So my quinoa sat and sat.

Then I moved into a glorious apartment with a wide-open kitchen and lots of counter space low enough for me to not need a stool. I told my mom I was going to cook every day. That was over three months ago.

While cleaning out my pantry a few weeks ago, I came across that bag of quinoa and excitement filled my tummy. Surely it couldn’t still be good. Oh, but it was! This time, I cooked it. I cooked it so good. I eat quinoa like every day now. I make it simple, I make it fancy, I’ve shared it with friends and I’ve enjoyed it alone with my stories. It’s the best – I’m saving money, eating healthy and since I talk to myself while cooking I’m even practicing for Top Chef.

So I’ve just rambled on and on about food. Let’s be honest, it’s the topic that most of us want to talk about all the time. But truthfully, it’s more than just about the food. A long time ago I found something I loved and sought to make it part of my world. However, it didn’t happen over night, in fact I wasn’t even close to diligent about it and most of the time I totally forgot. This miracle food just sat on my shelf, ignored and shamed. Then one day it came back into my life and this time I was ready for it. Everything was in place and we were happily reunited. What a difference it has made.

It was so simple. How many other things in my life are sitting on that shelf waiting to make an impact in my life…other than that box of cream of wheat which we all know is never going to happen – what was I thinking?

It’s probably time to clean out the old life pantry again and make sure I’m not missing any more miracle grains. Hopefully before they expire.

Oh and quinoa, if you haven’t yet, try it. For reals.

Past Blast

Last weekend the BFF and I went to a massive boy band reunion concert to relive our 4th grade dreams. (Thanks L!) It was absolutely amazing and about a thousand times better than I was expecting. After all the New Kids on the Block are not new kids anymore. They sang, they danced and they really looked like they were having a blast. Instead of taking themselves too seriously, it felt as if they truly appreciated the opportunity to give this entertainment business one more go decades later. I found myself rooting for them as we gave homage to the songs that back dropped my early adolescence. For two hours I was transported back in time, a simpler time – no really, things were way easy back then. After the concert L and I talked about the memories that came flooding back. Please Don't Go Girl still gets me every time. It was pretty awesome to relive those crushes for an evening.

About a month ago, I saw a lovely little movie, Midnight in Paris. It was charming, funny and the final message was sweet and poignant. Without giving away too much, it was about not obsessing in the past. Instead we cherish it and use what we have learned to embrace the future. I love that.

For a few moments during the NKOTBSB concert, I felt that urge to go back. If only I could be there again, do it all over or just stay there forever. After the encore, the confetti settled and the lights went up, I returned to 2011 with a heavy sigh. Truth is life is not perfect today and I think sometimes if I could I really would like to do things over. Reminiscing in the 'good ole' times often makes my present heart ache and it takes a moment to remember there is no accounting for the path already taken. There is no telling what could or might have been and most of the time that is the point. Today is today, yesterday is gone and I only have tomorrow. It is with my past, I make the best of my future.

Now, can anyone tell me why there were 14 year olds at this concert? Seriously, I'm really baffled. I have NKOTB shirts older than them.

Rejected

Rejection hurts. It sucks. Bad. Big time. There is nothing new about that.

Recently, however, I have received a new kind of rejection and I have to say, it hurts almost as bad as the boy kind.

I apologize for the shock of news to anyone, don't be mad, I kept my jaw rather tight about it (I know, I know, it's rare, but it's still possible). Due to the bafflement and frustration of the 'are you kidding me's?' this has caused, public release feels necessary and that demands full disclosure. So here it all comes...

I applied to the Marriage and Family Therapy program at BYU last fall. It involved a mix of emotion and was a bit stressful, but overall I was really excited for the possibility of a new career path, one that could open new doors and really bring me a lot of joy. I wasn't delusion, it's a very small program, chances were slim at best. However, I wasn't prepared for the speed at which that rejection notice arrived...via email. That was surprising. After a sigh of disappointed, it was alright. I knew it would be a long shot and I wasn't planning to give up. I have time. Next year, we will try again.

Then...a few days ago I got a letter from the program. What is this, 5 months later? Perhaps someone dropped out and maybe there is still hope! No. It was rejection all over again. This time on official letterhead. I guess this was just the delayed 'official' rejection. I read the first three words and threw it in the trash.

Then...last night, another email. Log into you account to see your application results. I knew it was a trap, but I looked anyway. Sure enough. Rejection #3.

What have I learned from this? When it comes to rejection, one time - swift and thorough is best. For the love, please don't feel the need to send duplicates just in case. Also, it feels good to put rejection in the trash bin.

Yes, it's weird.

This is how it went:
Yes, mom, it's weird.
But no one else has told me it's weird.
Of course not. No one is going to say that to your face. Don't worry, they tell me all the time. I am just the only one who loves you enough to tell you, it's weird.

I'm telling you because I care. Sounds very similar to I'm not letting you go to the beach with your friends because I love you too much. Hm. That's the rub.

Most of the time it's hard to tell someone the cold, brutal truth. We don't want to hurt feelings or crush dreams. Some people don't have a problem with it and blurt out everything that happens to cross their mind at any given point. I find those people are usually wrong and don't have many friends. As humans, most of us do not really want the truth. We want to live in ignorant bliss. I know I do. Unfortunately, it usually doesn't get us very far. We have to face the truth to break our comfortable shell and grow. Despite our highest reasoning skills, we typically need some kind of help with this.

The trick is to be open to that help as well as learn how to offer it to those we care about when they need it. I know I've made the mistake of offering my seasoned, unsolicited, glorious wisdom at times when it was really not appreciated. Offended and appalled I'm not praised for shedding the light, it usually takes me about 36 hours to realize I was saying it for myself and not for the person I claimed to care about. It turns out that the only way to really help is to really care...about the other person.

Love is the foundation. The love of a parent, dear friend or our Savior gently guiding us back on the path we always wanted to be. It's easy to fight this. We have pride to thank for that. However, as we listen to the support and selfless advice of our closest confidants we might just find they are right after all. As difficult as it might be to swallow...

I doubt I'll be able to stop telling my mom my arrogantly naive opinions. The truth is, it was weird. But she really doesn't care and therefore neither should I.

A Perfect Pair

Something shy of nineteen years ago, I walked down the hall into my bedroom to find two blond, pale skinned, diaper clad, midget destructors climbing up my dresser for perhaps the hundredth time. A girl could never successfully hide all her enticing accessories from such a duo. Today, I dropped those very same boys, now speaking full sentences, standing quite a bit taller with shaved faces and looking sharp in dark suits at the Missionary Training Center to begin a two year mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. What a moment! And the memories have flooded in ever since.

I can remember sitting at our kitchen table hearing the news of two more boys soon to join our family. I remember banging my head on the table, bursting into tears and begging they be sisters instead. It was the worst news ever for a 10 year old girl with already two highly irritating younger brothers. I couldn't bear it. Then I remember the day they were born and seeing their adorable, tiny bodies with color coded socks so we could tell them apart. I remember the heartache when only a few months later they were both miserably covered with painful red bumps from chicken pox leaving us with no way to console them. I remember dressing them up for my famous skits, changing diapers, sewing tiny costumes, showing them off at church and bragging to all my friends that I had the most adorable identical twin brothers in the world. It didn't take long to see that these two happy boys completed our family perfectly. I was so proud to be the oldest sister, to have four charming and practically all identical brothers.

I remember years later returning home after college and watching them endure the horrors of middle school. I was there to see them quickly become athletes, find success and popularity with friends, teachers and basically anyone they met. I went to as many football games as possible where they would always nod to us from the field just because they knew we loved it so much. I gave my sisterly advice on everything (especially when it was least desired), and perhaps spoiled them a bit along the way.

I remember just two months ago when they received calls to serve full-time missions for the church. I remember the excitement in their voice as they each read out loud their assignments. Uttica, New York and Las Vegas, Nevada. So soon, they would be off. It had come so fast. I remember the setting apart just days ago and a precious reminder of their special bond and the strength they would find within it.

Indeed, they have always a inseparable pair. Their personalities could not be more different and yet, the chemistry is so clear. There is no wonder they were able to plan such precise attacks on my possessions. Their secret modes of communication were always impenetrable by the rest of us. Not only have they parted from the rest of the family today, but they have parted from each other for the first time in 19 years. I have no doubt they with notice the absence, but I also have no doubt they will somehow support each other more than anyone else could manage to try.

After prying my poor, sobbing mother away from their jugulars, I watched the pair walk off into the Mormon sunset. My heart swelled with mixed joy and sadness. The tinge of pain was quickly overshadowed with pure respect. How proud I am still nineteen years later to have watched these boys grow and now serve the Lord. No longer saddened to be the only sister, I am grateful to have not just two, but four wonderful brothers who with their glowing personalities and unquestionable faith have always been such precious examples to me. No longer are they destroying my life with their diaper raids, but standing as willing missionaries called of God to bless people across the nation. What a perfect pair, always united by blood, faith and a little something special. Today they divide and they shall conquer.

Cosmic Irony

Despite my ever frustrating inability to properly understand and use the word “ironic,” (Alanis really ruined that for everyone) I have been presented with a proper application. I think. I Googled it to make sure. My friends say if it is on the internet, it’s true. So behold, I present a truth of cosmic irony.

Cosmic irony: taunting from the universe. Example: You work for the Department of Middle Eastern Studies and are granted a week long tripcation touring the country of Egypt. For free. While also getting paid. However, not barely a month prior to departure, the country breaks out into the largest, longest and most organized revolution of modern history. After weeks of unfortunate and unnecessary violence, the stubborn president remains unmoved. You wait, you hope but alas, nothing improves. This guy does not give up easy and the trip remains in limbo. Finally, the call must be made and the airline pulls all flights scheduled over the next month as a result of the volatile situation. Not barely 36 hours after your tickets are canceled, the president finally steps down and thus begins the return of peace to Egypt. Thirty-six hours.

Really?! Come on!

In my egocentric world, it feels a bit like the fates must be having quite the laugh at my expense right now. Some (my mom) call it a sign to stay the heck out. Regardless of karma, luck, fate, destiny or apocalypses I will not be walking like an Egyptian any time soon.

On the upside, it looks like democracy has found its way into another country, possibly cracking open the door for missionary work (fingers crossed). Also, now I can say it took a revolution to keep me out of Egypt. Trust me, it's ironic.

Wrinkle Me This

I just read an article about wrinkles. Apparently, my new age bracket leaves me susceptible to wrinkles and I am strongly encouraged to take cautionary measures. Terrible. Naturally, I spent 20 minutes examining my face in the mirror assessing the situation. Thanks to great porcelain skin genes along with a distracting hair color, there is no need to panic. Plus, I decided that I'm alright with my blooming wrinkles, they are just a result of all my smiling anyway. Those are the best kind.

A wise friend says turning thirty was the best decision he ever made. I roll my eyes and make a weird noise every time he says it, but I know what he means. Life never stops moving, we just get to decide if we hop on board or not. I wasn't ready for thirty, but it sure found me. So now we ride.

I didn't decide to turn thirty, but I'll decide to turn thirty into awesome.

30 Things

The holidays flew by way too fast. I’m never ready for them to be over. However, they were wonderful and I have a whole slew of new and awesome memories like my mother swinging from a trapeze and getting her leg stuck in the safety ropes. Good times.

As the years have passed by, Christmas has evolved. This Christmas was like no other. The family has grown and we have little ones back in the house to rip open packages, break ornaments, demand playtime and be so adorable you can’t even be that mad when they wake you up at 3 am. It was fun.

I received some of the best gifts this year from people that love me. Too many too count. I had a mid-holiday move and managed to find myself overwhelmed and paralyzed in piles of ‘necessary items’ I’ve obtained over the years. To the rescue came my friends who packed all my prized possessions and then came back to help me move it and then help me unpack it, all while I whined about the lack of places to put it...which is still a serious dilemma. I also received some special attention from sneaky friends who left a gift on my doorstep for the 12 days of Christmas. I've never been so excited to come home or felt so appreciated. Who would do such a thing...really good people that like me, a lot. Nothing makes a person feel so loved more than a simple, out-of-the-blue, thoughtful deed, not to mention the excitement in the secret surprise! So wonderful. I don’t imagine I’ll ever find out who did this for me and I’ll never be able to personally thank or express how much it meant, but I have a feeling they know because that is the type of person who would do such a thing.

Now that the holidays are over, the family is all gone and my new apartment is all...well, mostly still in boxes, I’ve been reflecting on the past year as is customary. I could list out all the wonderful things that happened, all the hard times, lessons learned and all the other random joys of life, but really there are only more to come. What I am thinking about is where I am now and where I’m going to take the next year. As a rather significant birthday is about hit, the desire for reflection, gratitude and hope is increasing as I battle to overcome the daunting feelings this age brings. I want to insert a colorful analogy here for no other reason than I want to and I can because it’s my blog. It feels as if I’m called up in a really important game at halftime with no pads or helmet after warming the bench for a really long time. Yeah.

This year is unplanned and unsure. I can not tell anyone where I’ll be in the next 6 months. This is first time I’ve really ever felt that way, but I figure 30 is a good time as any for it. And, as for the benefits of reflection, I can certainly tell you how happy I am to have a family that loves to play together, friends that will pack all 125 pairs of my shoes without complaining and the joy of a gospel that reminds me these are the things that matter.

So, here is to 2011 and here is to being 30. Bring it.