Four things...

I saw this in an old email while I was cleaning out my ridiculously jumbled inbox, so I thought I’d fill it out.





Four jobs I have had in my life:
1. Newspaper delivery person
2. Telemarketer
3. Custodian
4. Social Worker

Four movies I would watch over and over:
1. Persuasion
2. Who’s that Girl?
3. Meet the Robinson’s
4. To this end was I born

Four places I have lived:
1. Washington D.C.
2. San Diego, CA
3. Provo, UT
4. Santiago, Chile

Four TV shows I love to watch:
1. House, M.D.
2. The West Wing
3. The Office
4. Ugly Betty

Four places I have been on vacation:
1. Utah
2. Disneyland
3. East Coast, 8th grade trip
4. Breckenridge, CO

Four websites I visit daily:
1. www.yahoomail.com
2. Google
3. www.blogger.com
4. www.imdb.com

Four of my favorite foods:
1. Orange chicken
2. Sherbet
3. Taco salad
4. Holiday Jello

Four places I would rather be right now:
1. Snorkeling in Hawaii
2. Disneyworld
3. London, England
4. Whale watching

Four schools you've attented
1. Hickman Elementary
2. Challenger Junior High (yes, it was a junior high then, not a middle school)
3. Mira Mesa High School
4. Brigham Young University

Four of your best friends growing up
1. Lisa Stoefen
2. Sarah Curnow
3. Shelley Howard
4. Jennifer Van Grove

Four of your favorite bands:
1. Rascal Flatts
2. Brad Paisley
3. Little Big Town
4. The Beach Boys

Four favorite books to read:
1. The standard works
2. Harry Potter (all)
3. Jane Austen (See how I avoided listing one book by just putting an author’s name down? Clever, huh?)
4. Discarded Science: Ideas that seemed good at the time, by John Grant

Last four people you talked to on the phone:
1. Mom
2. Rachel
3. Grandpa
4. Does the intercom at work count? If so, Brandi.
(I hate talking on the phone. I was only recently, in the past year, forced to get a cell phone)

Four cars you've owned:
1. 1986 Honda Accord
2. The Infamously Burning Dodge Omni
3. 1989 Toyota Tercel
4. 1998 Chevy Prizm

Four of the last movies you've seen:
1. Muppet Christmas Carol
2. White Christmas
3. Live Free or Die Hard
4. As of tomorrow, National Treasure: Book of Secrets

Four favorite things to do when hanging out:
1. Make stupid jokes
2. Visit a bookstore
3. Window shop
4. Cook something, watch something, play something

Four things you look for in someone you date:
1. Kind when others aren’t looking
2. Doesn’t laugh at others’ expense
3. Genuinely interested in finding out more about me
4. Makes me laugh

Four names you like for future children:
1. James Atticus
2. The middle name “Nelson” (family tradition)
3. Elizabeth/Anne
4. Agnes ( It looks really ugly written, but read David Copperfield and you’ll like it better. Maybe I’ll call her Aggie. Maybe it’s just a fad.)

Four of your least favorite foods:
1. Tomatoes
2. Fish
3. Tomatoes
4. Seafood
5. Did I mention Tomatoes?

Four things that make you smile:
1. Beach
2. Grass
3. Bubbles
4. Babies

Four favorite places to shop:
1. Barnes and Noble
2. Old Navy
3. Vons
4. Target

Four favorite restaurants:
1. Pat and Oscar’s
2. California Pizza Kitchen
3. Panda Express
4. Wendy’s

Four favorite holidays:
1. Fourth of July
2. Christmas
3. Thanksgiving
4. Pie day (March 14th…3.14…get it?)

Four good things you'd change about yourself:
1. I wouldn’t think I’m half as bad as I imagine
2. I’d be a little braver
3. I’d be able to say what I felt a little more
4. I’d act on every feeling I had, even if it seemed small or silly

Far, Far Away

Today in Relief Society we didn’t have a teacher, so instead our RS Pres suggested we take turns standing and sharing our favorite Christmas carol. Then we all sang it. It was a really great meeting, but despite my efforts to stand and share I got beat down every time by another sister who was just a little faster than me. So I thought I’d share my thought and carol here.

For some reason whenever I’ve thought about Christmas for the past month and a half, the book of Enos pops into my head. Not a very overwhelming thing, since the book of Enos is only one chapter. In this chapter, Enos goes out into the woods to pray to God about his soul. When he receives an answer of redemption, Enos does not stop praying. He continues, praying for his brethren, the Nephites. Now, I’m sure most of us include our siblings and family members in our prayers. That’s not what struck me. What struck me is the next thing that Enos prays for. He prays for his enemies, the Lamanites. He prays that they will be able to come to know God, and that the scriptures will be preserved for just that purpose. So the thought that accompanied my continual remembrance of this story was the most meaningful thing to me. The thought was “THAT is the Christmas spirit.” It’s not a Christmas scripture at all. Just a young man, a young prophet, out in the woods, praying for people that couldn’t care less about him. Praying for people that have likely tried to kill him at some point in his life. And yet, he prays that God will know them, help them, and save them.

So the song I would have picked if we’d have had more time in Relief Society today is Far, Far Away on Judea’s Plains.

“Sweet are the strains of redeeming love, Message of mercy from heav’n above…Hasten the time when, from ev’ry clime. Men shall unite in the strains sublime: Glory to God…Peace on earth, good will to men.

Merry Christmas =]

I Have 75 Children

I spent today organizing donated clothes for approximately 75 kids that come to our clubhouse. I don't know if they'll like what they are getting, but I hope they do. I've spent the past two or three days at work trying to get it all organized. With Brandi and Krissy's help we were able to get it all done. I had piles and piles of clothes all over my office, and I basically took over the desk areas of my poor office-mates, Eric and Roger. That's okay though. They need to be out on the floor "interacting" with the kids more anyways. The piles of clothes reminded me somewhat of the movie Yours, Mine, and Ours; not the new one (because I never saw it), but the old one with Lucille Ball and Henry Fonda. I think they end up having 18 children. Can you imagine buying Christmas presents for eighteen children? Or even just wrapping Christmas presents for that many kids? It takes a long time to figure out if so and so would like such a thing, or if this shirt would fit that person. I'm almost Christmas-presented-out from it all, and I haven't even finished my shopping yet.

Christmas and Cardiac Cookies

I got a little creative tonight, and decided to make some Christmas cookies. Here they are:



Hey! Where's the head and leg of that gingerbread man? DAVID!?!



Dad was making cookies too. He calls them "Cardiac Cookies" because they're good for his heart. They have no butter or sugar in them, and they're actually pretty tasty. Smile Dad!

All I want for Christmas is four new tires...

I got a flat tire yesterday morning on the way to work. I debated driving the 40 yards or so on said flat tire to get to the gas station near where I work. Then I decided that would probably destroy my car, so I didn’t do it. I changed the tire, with a little bit of help from a friendly truck driver who was concerned that I didn’t know how to do it (Thanks Jaime!) and put the toy tire on. The toy tire was, unfortunately, rather flat as well, but it got me to the office. I sort of justified driving back down to the gas station by telling myself that my dad had once told me that toy tires are made stronger than regular ones. I might have been making that up in my mind, but oh well. Whatever the case, I made it down the hill to said gas station without blowing up my car, where several people tried to signal to me that the toy tire was flat. Mind you, this was as I was pulling over to the little air station. I waved a smiling “thanks, I know” to them. When I finally made it to the Discount Tire I was ready to hand them the car for forever and take the bus home. Unfortunately, it only took them 40 minutes to get me 4 new tires. Alright, I guess I’ll take the car back.

I suppose it was lucky I didn’t give the car up completely. I ended up having to stop back by the office to do a little re-con work for my friend/co-worker, Crystal. A successful venture, I might add. Maybe I should join the secret service or something.

Chicken Nuggets

A couple of people have emailed asking exactly what it is that I do at my job. Here is a brief description:

I work at a clubhouse for young adults (known as “TAY”-Transitional Age Youth) who are between the ages of 16-25 years old. These kids all have some sort of mental health disorder, such as schizophrenia, bi-polar disorder, borderline personality disorder, etc. Anything you ever studied in abnormal psych. The program was created to help these young adults transition into becoming responsible, self-sustaining adults (hence the "transitional" part), so that when they turn 26 they will be able to function mainly on their own without too much dependence on the system. We have two programs-one with case managers, therapists, substance abuse counselors, nurses…the whole works. The second program is the clubhouse, the side of the building that I work on. It’s basically sort of a drop-in center. The kids don’t live there—most of them live in board-and-cares or independent living homes. However, they come to the clubhouse during the day. At the clubhouse we have groups, classes, activities, outings, games, etc. My official title is “Activities Coordinator.” So one would assume that my main function is to coordinate activities, correct? Well, not really. I mean, I do plan outings to take the kids out to, but that really only takes a little imagination, Google, SanDiegoGetaways.com (a great site if you ever want to visit here), and gas for the company van. All in all, it probably only takes me two days to plan the next months’ activities.

What I mainly do is as such: Break up fights (that’s a big one lately, and it usually involves me sacrificing my body by throwing myself in between two young men who are much bigger and much more feisty than I am), kick people off the computers who are listening to foul music or looking at foul things, cook lunch, run chores, teach 5-6 groups a week, write and publish the clubhouse newsletter, plan and carry out parties, fundraise (who would have ever thought selling lollipops from my cupboard and at the local deli would have been so effective?), organize volunteering experiences and outreach opportunities at shelters, update directories that I didn’t create and therefore, in my mind, are not as functional as they could be (I spent almost an entire week on that one), and, of course, sign more people up for the program. There are more things as well, but I’m tired of listing them. Keep in mind also that the entire time I am doing these things there is always someone asking me questions, pestering me about something not-so-important, pestering me about something oh-so-very-important, and sometimes just bouncing in and out of my office to get attention. I’m sure all you moms can relate. Yesterday, I was trying to work on something and one of the clubhouse members literally sat and talked to me for forty minutes non-stop. And when fights do occur between staff and a clubhouse member, they are usually because the clubhouse member wants to either push limits, push buttons, or they simply want attention. The most clear example of attention seeking I've ever had was when one of the kids stole a bag of frozen chicken nuggets. Instead of simply putting them in to his backpack that he was carrying around and walking out of the building, he came to my office door, shook the bag in front of his face, and yelled out “I’m taking these chicken nuggets!,” then attempted to leave. I’ll never look at chicken nuggets the same again. All I can think whenever I see them is "I'm taking these chicken nuggets!" It was hilarious. So, while it is challenging (and you can never hide from these clubhouse members to get something done, like paperwork...) it's also highly entertaining, and...well, just plain satisfying work. I even taught a punk-rock style kid to use a sewing machine this week. They're great.

Things I've learned recently...

*“Plauen” is a city in Germany, not a person.

*A “Stent” is something that a heart surgeon uses to prop your artery open.

*Collecting clutter can be an addiction.

*If some of the tiles fall off of your Rubik’s Cube, make sure that you glue them back in the right spot. Otherwise, I can promise you that you will never solve it. No matter how good you are. (Britte, I’m in the process of fixing yours for you…)

*The person that draws your blood when you go to donate blood doesn’t always donate their blood.

*Parents are more stubborn than their children.

*Just because you eat healthy and go on walks doesn’t mean you can’t have a heart attack.

*Staying up until 1am normally=hard
Staying up until 1am to watch 12 episodes of “The Office”=not hard

*I like cooked spinach.

Rainy San Diego

When it rains in San Diego, a goodly percentage of the drivers freak out and completely forget how to drive like a normal person. It’s as if 90% of the city looks up in wonder at the sky, asking themselves “What are these strange wet things falling onto my windshield? You mean windshield wipers were meant to be used for something other than cleaning the dust (and ash) off the glass so I can see?” It’s pretty funny. Especially since I lived up in the Utah snow for 5+ years, driving around in that mess. In case you were wondering, it’s currently raining. It’s also windy. I’m pretty sure most of the city believes that this is what a hurricane must be like.

I don’t remember when the first time I saw lightning was, but I’m pretty sure I was in the living room of my house and I’m also pretty sure that I thought the world was exploding. We hardly ever get thunderstorms down in San Diego, so it was a curious thing. Once upon a time I went to EFY in Utah and I remember going into an hour long class, leaving clear blue skies and a bright happy sun behind me. When I came out of the building there were dark gloomy clouds above, it was pouring rain, and it was thundering and lightning. I remember being shocked. Where did this come from? Who knew that a rain storm could appear so quickly? Certainly not me!

Another rainy day I remember was when I was very little, and visiting an Uncle and Aunt in Arizona. I was probably…eight? I don’t know. It was during my “I hate spaghetti sauce” phase. Anyhow, we arrived at their house when it was dark outside, and it was very warm. As we were bringing our stuff into their house it started to rain. It was hot outside and raining at the same time! How could that happen?! I was fascinated, and wanted to stay outside and play in it, but my parents wouldn’t let me. I didn’t understand why. I couldn’t possibly get sick, right? It was too warm! I vividly remember thinking how astonishing it was, for rain and heat to exist at the same time.

The last great rainy day I wanted to chronicle was when I was in second grade. My sister, Rachel and I were walking home, along with my best friend, Sarah, who lived next door to us. Sarah was crazy and hilarious, and that must have been why we were such great friends. I loved her hilarity, and was so naturally shy that it made me happy inside to be a part of it. We walked home in the pouring rain, getting sopping wet and loving every minute of it. We would sweep our umbrellas up as high as we could, jump and try to float down to earth, like Mary Poppins. As we rounded a corner, there was a bit of tissue or something in a bush that had gotten soaked through and was now a small pile of white mush. Sarah exclaimed "Look! SNOW!" (knowing full well that it was, in fact, a small pile of mushy white tissue-we had great imaginations back then). The rest of the way home we prattled on about how we should have taken the "snow" and built a little mini-snowman out of it, then put it in our front yard for all to see.

I think it was the best walk home from school that I ever had.

“Maybe it’s the music.” “Maybe it isn’t only the music."

I don’t usually like to do Christmas things until December 1^st, because it is possible to get a little sick of Christmas stuff if you jam it all in right after you finish putting away the Thanksgiving leftovers. Unfortunately, ABC Family has played Irving Berlin’s White Christmas for the past two days, and I simply can’t resist it. Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen. I remember when we were little and my sisters and I would sing the “Sisters” song. One of my favorite parts is when Wallace and Davis are on stage with their pant legs pulled up, twirling those feathered fans and mouthing along to the Haynes Sisters’ record. If you watch carefully, near the end of the song Bing Crosby is laughing so hard that he can barely finish the performance; and who can resist Danny Kaye’s facial expressions as he purposely starts smacking Crosby with the fan? My favorite two quotes from the movie are as follows: Davis says to Wallace “I want you to get married. I want you to have nine children. And if you only spend five minutes a day with each kid, that's forty-five minutes, and I'd at least have time to go out and get a massage or something.” Then, when Davis is trying to get Wallace to go up to Vermont, Wallace (getting the old guilt trip over Davis’ hurt arm) turns to Betty and says “Miss Haynes, if you're ever under a falling building and someone offers to pick you up and carry you to safety, don't think, don't pause, don't hesitate for a moment, just spit in his eye.” I laugh every time.

Well, my brain is not quite refilled yet, so I’m not sure what else to say. I emptied it this morning all over my GRE test, and I haven’t quite felt myself yet. I did manage to buy new material for curtains earlier. I hope my judgment wasn’t too impaired, or else I’ll wake up tomorrow and detest what I bought.

11:11pm thoughts

I’m up trying to decide if I want to clean up in preparation for tomorrow’s festivities, or go to bed and get up early to do it. I’m sort of getting a second wind, so I’ll probably opt for the former.

There is a bottle of dish soap on the counter. It’s called “planet” and the first sentence of “boasts” states that it is certified biodegradable. Are other dish soaps not biodegradable? Have I been infecting the planet for the past 26 ½ years with non-biodegradable dish soap, and I never knew it? Fact heard from the ecology-lovers that I volunteered with this summer: It takes 1,000 years for your plastic grocery bag to decompose. No wonder California is about to outlaw them. Every time I walk in to Vons I think “I should really spend a few dollars and buy some of those cloth bags, because soon the plastic ones will be illegal, and everyone will be trying to buy the cloth ones, and there will be none left and I will have to carry all my groceries home in my arms, and I’ll probably end up dropping the glass jar of spaghetti sauce, and I just know they won’t give me a refund for that.” I still haven’t bought the cloth bags yet.

The building I work at sits on a hill. Outside of our building is a small grassy area that overlooks the I-15. Yesterday as I sat down for lunch, one of the kids came in and said to two of my co-workers and I “There is a fire across the freeway!” I didn’t think much of it, but I was curious, and considering the scary fires that happened just three weeks ago, we weren’t taking any chances. I walked outside, and lo and behold, the hill was on fire—and it wasn’t a small fire either. It extended from the bottom of the hill, almost the entire length of the entrance/exit to the freeway, and was moving in a triangular sort of pattern up to the top of the hill, towards some military housing. There were three fire engines down at the bottom, and you could see five or six little bitty firemen sprawled all over the hill, shooting little streams of water at the fire. They had it contained pretty fast, and they were able to stop it 15 ft from the houses. Close Call.

When the Witch-Creek fires were going on, our house was boxed in by three separate evacuation zones, so we were packed and ready to go. I made a list of things I didn’t want to forget, besides my emergency pack.

Alvin and his food
Blanket and pillow
Family pictures (I currently have them all in my room. Little project I’m working on)
Purse
Firebox
File box
Journals box
Cell phones/palm pilot and chargers
Computer
Towels
Scriptures

Surprisingly, I left my scriptures for last. I’ve always thought they would be the first thing that I’d grab. All I could think was “I can get new ones. I have my mini set in my storage in Utah, so I’ll be fine. My Patriarchal Blessing is in my file box, so that is safe.” I guess sometimes it’s just a matter of asking yourself, “Can I replace it?” Isn’t it amazing that we live in a world where I can replace my scriptures so easily? Isn’t that beautiful? Gutenberg, you’re my hero.

Seminary vs. Institute

I learned something last week. I substitute taught seminary on Tuesday morning—the sophomore class, which is usually the last class that anybody wants to substitute for, because everyone knows that sophomores in high school are generally the most “annoyed” of all high school students. The kids I taught, though, were actually very good. Half participated, and most of the other half listened, which is good for 15 year olds who had to wake up at 5am to be where they were. I pretty much marked it a success when I finished my lesson and nothing had been thrown at me, and they seemed genuinely interested in the John Bytheway blip that I had with me (I'm pretty sure his talks have saved many a seminary teacher from pulling their hair out). I also learned that if you give teenagers a task to do, they will not do it; however, if you say the words “Ready…Go!” they immediately start. It’s like a magic phrase. My Dad says that it makes them feel as though they are in competition with each other.

Anyhow, that’s not necessarily what I learned. The realization didn’t actually come to me until Wednesday night, while I was sitting (as a student, this time) in my institute class. I was watching Elder Thomas stand there telling us stories about Joseph Fielding Smith and Harold B. Lee, and I realized that as members of the church taking time out to attend an institute class, we aren’t really half as engaged as we should be. Shouldn’t we be jumping up to ask questions and find out more? I don’t think most of the people in my class even cracked open the lesson manual before they came; they came simply to have the information downloaded into their heads. Isn’t that sort of…inexcusable? I mean, the kids that I taught seminary to are angsty teenagers, so they have an excuse when they sit there staring slightly blindly at me. And they didn’t even really sit there staring blindly at me. They actually participated and asked really good questions. So, shouldn’t the people my age (remember, I’m an adult) be a little more engaged? We’re not computers. The gospel isn’t something you download. It’s something you do. Something you have to apply.

Broken Birthday Cakes

We decided on Friday night that the best birthday cakes are the ones that you completely demolish. Friday was my Dad’s birthday (consequently, my sister Rachel pointed out that my Dad, who was born in 1952 turned 55 this year, and last month my Mom, who was born in 1955, turned 52. Fun trivia). My brother, David, works at Cold Stone and has therefore been in charge of purchasing the birthday cakes for our family since he started there last spring. So after all the presents were opened, Dave went into the kitchen and put two “5” candles on the top. He lit the candles, and then carried the cake in to the family room where my Dad was sitting. We sang, Dad made a wish and blew out the candles, and we all cheered. Then, as David was turning around to take the cake back into the kitchen he must have tripped on something, because all of a sudden the cake ended up face down on the carpet. Whoops =[ We picked up the cake, still intact due to the hardened frozen ice cream inside of it, and took it to the kitchen. It took a bunch of dumb jokes and some hugs to convince Dave that he had not, in fact, ruined either the birthday or the cake. Luckily Cold Stone puts at least an entire inch of icing on the tops of their cakes, so I grabbed a large butcher knife and used the blunt side to scrape a good layer of icing off the top and the sides. Good as new, and with a bunch less calories! I then proceeded to tell Dave about the time that Rachel and I made Mom a birthday cake (we were probably 14 and 12 at the time) and decided that we wanted to make it fancy. We tried to tip the cake out of the 13x9” pan so we could ice it all the way around; unfortunately the cake ended up breaking in half. So Rachel and I decided we should glue the cake back together with icing. Well, it ended up looking ridiculous, and I’m pretty sure that when Mom and Dad got home they found the two of us standing laughing over the gross particles of cake that were still somewhat edible. And we ate that one, just like we ate Dave’s cake. Besides, Dave’s cake was chocolate chip cookie dough. It had to be done.

The USS Midway, on a good day

On Friday, I took four of the kids that I work with to the USS Midway. As the Activities Coordinator at a clubhouse for young adults, I get to go and do a lot of things around San Diego. This last year alone I've been to the Wild Animal Park, the San Diego Zoo, a bunch of the museums at Balboa Park, hiking at Torrey Pines State Reserve, boating out at Santee Lakes, taking a tour of San Diego bay on the Hornblower , horseback riding (yea! I finally reached one of my life-goals!); I've visited cat shelters to play with cats, and the Helen Woodward Animal Center, where they have all kinds of animals that you would never have suspected, like llamas and deadly snakes. I absolutely love the opportunity that I have had to rediscover this beautiful city that I grew up in. It's really quite amazing. The only problem is that the entire time I'm on these great activities I have to practice Prof. Moody's "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!," making sure that the group I am accompanying doesn't cause any devious mischief; especially mischief of the vandalizing or fighting or harassing sort. Most of the time they aren't bad at all, but there are times when my patience is greatly tried, such as our trip to the USS Midway on Friday. Separating people from fighting is not one of the highlights of my job, but sometimes it has to be done. I just wish that fights would not occur on the deck of an almost 60 year old aircraft-carrier-turned-museum; especially near the railings of the flight deck. But I suppose as long as they don't actually start hitting each other, and the buttons they randomly push don't actually ruin the ship in any way, I should count my blessings. Besides, I can always visit the museum on some other day, with my family or something. These kids might not ever get the chance to go again. So I suppose it's worth it.