Tuesday, August 14, 2012


Before the last couple of weeks, I hadn't watched the Olympics so much since the Salt Lake Games ten years ago. (goodness, it was over ten years ago!) I have to say, I was one of the people who was truly annoyed with the NBC coverage, but I didn't really have another alternative, so NBC and I spent some evenings together.

I am constantly amazed by human beings. As I sit and watch TV, there are people out there stretching their limits and seeing just how far these amazing bodies can go! I'm very glad that I had a childhood instead of a gymnastics career (that would be over long before i reached the age i am now), but wow!!!

I loved cheering on gymnast Gabby Douglas in her all-around gold, to say nothing of seeing the U.S. team gold performance. I loved watching the people who were truly thrilled to win silver or bronze, because I couldn't help but be a little bit annoyed at those who cried over getting the silver medal at the FREAKING OLYMPICS. (good example of happy silver/bronzers: Dawn Harper and Kellie Wells in the 100 m hurdles.) I loved watching South Africa's Oscar Pistorius historic runs, mainly because I would fall down just walking on those prosthetic legs, and he RUNS on them! And FAST! I loved seeing Missy Franklin's enormous grin, the parents in the stands, and just the sheer awesomeness of these Games.

I'll tell you the most underwhelming part of the Games for me: the Opening and Closing ceremonies. I think my over-all impression of them was that they were a rock concert catering to a very specific demographic, and how many people were going to truly enjoy them? There were definitely highlights: The James Bond opening, Rowan Atkinson, giant Voldemort, Eric Idle, Glen discovering that I can sing along to the Spice Girls . . . but in hindsight I'm not sure that it was worth it for me to watch them because on the whole, I didn't enjoy them. That's kind of sad. I'm sure plenty of people did, though, so good on them. (were the ceremonies this long before they were televised? just curious.)

Certain images of past Olympics stick with me: Kerri Strug's final vault in Atlanta, bringing in the American flag from Ground Zero during the Salt Lake Opening ceremony, Michael Phelps' eighth gold medal in Beijing. What will stick with me from this one? Only time will tell.


"Finishing second in Olympics gets you silver. Finishing second in politics gets you oblivion." -Richard Nixon

Light My Fire

In the spring, Glen and I made "plans" to go camping this summer. It did not happen. There probably were a couple of weekends that we could have gone, but those were also the same weekends that there was major smoke in the air thanks to all the wildfires. Nothing ever came really near us, thank goodness, but I had no desire to head outside and deliberately breathe it in.

So a few weeks ago, Glen and I decided that, darn it all, we were going to camp this weekend. He requested time off at the ropes course (where he's been interning this summer) so that we would be sure to have a Friday night-to-Saturday morning/afternoon free, and it was going to work out.

Enter Education Week and basically-mandatory set-up for Glen. Goodbye, camping plans. Stupid Education Week.

Enter phone call with my mom expressing my disappointment. Enter brilliant Mom, who made an off-handed remark about camping indoors. I don't think she expected me to take her seriously, but I thought it was a great plan. Thanks, Mom!

I had no idea if our tent would actually fit in the living room, so I didn't even bother with it and instead hung up sheets (which glen informed me was probably harder than actually setting up the tent . . . i would agree with him on that score). I visited the library to get "scary story" books (to read by flashlight) and some sound effects cd's so that we would hear wolves howl in the distance (which i was really excited to find), and I am proud to say that I truly surprised Glen. I had told him I was planning our date and it would be at home, but he had no idea what to expect when I pulled him out of exile (our bedroom). Yay!

The set-up

Glen and the local "wildlife" -- I had also put out a couple of bears for us to not feed.

I was also proud of my faux fireplace.

 Glen "roasts" his hot dogs.

The night was not entirely without technology and use of our kitchen, but it was a silly success, nonetheless. (even if we didn't make the s'mores until the next evening.)


"A husband is like a fire, he goes out when unattended." -Evan Esar

Sweet Home Oregon-a

Let's play catch-up!

Last month, Glen and I headed up to Oregon, yay! My mom had what she termed a "hare-brained scheme" and pitched the idea to me of us taking my oldest niece and nephew with us, an idea that I took some time to say yes to, but I said yes nevertheless, and we had some company on our drive up and throughout the week. Actually, it was another family-filled week in Oregon, anyway, because my cousin Steve got married (hooray!), and a Kelly wedding always means LOTS of Kellys!

Highlights of the trip were:

1. The beach. We went there for the first couple of days we were around, and despite Mom's horror at the fact that it was so windy, it was a nice get-away. We made a stop in Newport and ate at the original Mo's (where glen fell in love with clam strips), walked around the waterfront shops, and stopped at a public pier to watch some locals crabbing (but not at each other, bahahahaha!!!) . The rest of the time was spent in Lincoln City, chilling out and tracking sand in the house.

2. The wedding. I was pretty excited to be in attendance at a wedding at which I was not the bride, and we had a good time with the fam. Glen had his first introduction to Kelly Brown ice cream (verdict: he preferred the dark! do i know how to pick 'em?) at Tom and Tracy's, I finally got to meet Graham, my newest nephew, who was so chill that I had a hard time relinquishing my hold on him, and the locale of Steve and Christine's reception was absolutely GORGEOUS! Out in farm/vineyard territory, and while I had a blast at my own wedding reception, I did envy them the view. (so did dad.) Congrats, you two!

3. Elephant ears at the Oregon zoo. I hadn't been to the zoo in MANY years, so I was all for making the trek there, and fortunately Glen was game. And the instant I spotted the elephant ear stand, my day was made. Of course, we went to the zoo while several of the animals were napping -- story of my life --, but it was a good walk, and we enjoyed seeing the animals that did appear.

4. Rose garden. It's a law written on my heart for me to make a stop there, and when I took Glen there last year, the weather had been so unaccommodating that the roses weren't out yet (in june!). So I needed to make up for it. This year came through. So beautiful. I love that place.

5. Seeing Kate. Because of family being around, the beach, and the wedding, I really had a lot less time than I initially thought we would to just hang out and meet up with any of my Oregon pals, but at least I saw one of them while I was there.

6. Swimming at the Silliman's. Some friends of my folks were gracious enough to allow us the use of their pool on our last afternoon, and it was just fun. The Swensons showed up, too, so we had a good time watching/participating in (megan watched, glen participated) the little competitions that sprang up once they arrived.

7. Every single person asking me how I was feeling. I made the big general facebook announcement about our little bundle of joy just a couple days before we left for Oregon, and I'm pretty certain every relative asked me how I was feeling. Dad joked that I should put my answers on a nametag: "Hello, my name is Megan, I am pregnant, and I've actually been feeling very good." But these are all people I love, and I didn't mind telling each and every one of them that I've had a pretty decent-feeling pregnancy . . . so far.

(In fact, I think the baby really enjoyed Oregon. I was feeling great the entire time we were there, and the first week we were back in Utah, I felt sick. I feel your pain, baby. Really.)

Oh, Oregon. I love you. And I miss you already.


"Home is where the heart is, so your real home's in your chest." -Captain Hammer

Thursday, June 28, 2012

She's Hearing Voices

Picture this:

A group of men sit at a table in a restaurant/diner/coffee shop/some sort of eating place. The average age of these men is 77. (The oldest is 90, and the youngest is 66.) They talk about the food they'll order, the way they're going to spend or have spent their day, maybe a little bit about their jobs, family, or friends. Nothing incredibly earth-shattering is discussed; it's just a pleasant meal among friends who come and go at their leisure.

All right, that doesn't sound too interesting, huh? You probably wouldn't be tempted to eavesdrop and listen to their voices and stories.

But what if those men were Morgan Freeman, Ian McKellen, Patrick Stewart, Sean Connery, James Earl Jones, Christopher Lee, and Alan Rickman?

Seven men with incredibly distinctive, awesome, and dare I say it? legendary voices. Who wouldn't want to listen to them, even if it's about something as seemingly mundane as their favorite food?

I'd willingly pay to see that movie, if ever a movie there were. And not just to see them, but to LISTEN and enjoy. I could close my eyes the entire time and still be perfectly contented.

That was our dinner conversation tonight, Glen's and mine. We especially liked the idea of getting them all to sing together, but I honestly don't know how many of them can carry a tune.

 So we know Patrick Stewart can.

*others who we considered, but who probably aren't as "legendary" (or as easily parodied): Kelsey Grammer, Sean Bean, John Rhys-Davies, Anthony Hopkins, Tim Curry, Richard Armitage (the inclusion of richard is simply because i melt every time i hear him speak any of his lines in the final scene of north and south. yum).


"Actually, I think the average voice is like 70 percent tone and 30 percent noise. My voice is 95 percent noise." -Harvey Fierstein

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

An Innocent Man

While we were still engaged, Glen and I started reading books together. Maybe it's not the most exciting of activities, and so far they've all been books that I've read before, but it's a nice thing for us to do together. We started off with Lord of the Rings (finished fellowship on our honeymoon, in fact), and have since gotten through The Hobbit, The Princess Bride, and Pride and Prejudice (which, surprisingly enough, was glen's choice).

This may not sound like much (especially to me, who goes through that many books in about two months in my personal time), but Lord of the Rings is kind of long, and reading aloud takes time. Add in the fact that we basically stopped reading together while Glen was taking classes and getting quite enough reading material from school, it kind of makes sense.

Our latest endeavor has been Harry Potter. Again, not too glamorous, but kind of fun. We whipped through books 1 and 2 lickety-split, and are pretty close to finishing up numero tres. And Prisoner of Azkaban has given us a new-found level of enjoyment we didn't expect -- the introduction of Cedric Diggory. Maybe he doesn't play a significant role in Prisoner, but whenever he's been mentioned, Glen and I haven't been able to stop ourselves from sniggering. Just wait until Goblet of Fire.

Poor innocent Cedric. We have Robert Pattinson to thank for our mockery of you.


"You can't get a cup of tea big enough or a book long enough to suit me." -C.S. Lewis

Monday, June 25, 2012

Just the Two of Us

It's really official. We've made it a whole year. (plus two weeks.) To celebrate on the actual day, we went out for Indian food, because it sounded REALLY good to me at about 11:30 the night before. Fortunately, being Indian food, it was still really good on the day. But our real celebration didn't take place until the following week, when we took a little excursion down to Manti. Some new friends in our ward recommended this bed and breakfast to us, and let me tell ya . . . we're sure grateful they did.

The woman who owns the place greeted us like old friends and showed us around when we first arrived, and all I could do was mouth to Glen, "I love her!" She was so incredibly sweet and grandmotherly; we just wanted to adopt her right then and there. There was a balcony library complete with grand piano that, naturally, I couldn't resist, and I loved our room. We splurged and went for a suite, complete with jetted tub (big enough for two, wink wink).

There really weren't any downsides to the whole trip -- it was just a relaxing evening and wonderful breakfast in the morning. Although we do wonder if there is such a thing as a bed and breakfast that decorates for men . . .

 Our pretty frilly room

This is the reason we got this room. Skylights above the bed.

Romantic evening, anyone?

Took a quick walk around the temple before heading home again. Beautiful.

It's been a really good year for us, so I think we're both willing to give it another year . . . and lots more!


"Love is the thing that enables a woman to sing while she mops up the floor after her husband has walked across it in his barn boots." -Hoosier Farmer

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Kiss the Girl

The other evening, I was setting up for a Relief Society activity at a local park. I was talking to my pal Kathryn as we searched for a water spigot and telling her briefly about the anniversary get-away Glen and I had gotten back from that day. Out of nowhere, Kathryn started to laugh. She reached for the collar of my shirt, and I assumed that something had inadvertently gotten stuck there and she was removing it, but it became clear pretty quickly that she wasn't "fixing" anything on my shirt -- she was just kind of jiggling my collar. And she kept giggling! I was extremely confused until she said, "Looks like you and Glen had a really good time." And then I realized . . . she'd spotted my infamous birthmark.

The one that looks exactly like a hickey.

In the exact spot on my neck you'd basically expect to see a hickey.

This birthmark was once a cause for embarrassment, like the time I was in Sunday School when I was 14, and Brother Pratt, who never looked up from his lesson plan while teaching, asked me totally out of the blue who'd been chewing on my neck. Cue the boys in my class to suddenly want a look at it.

It has since progressed into a joke, like when we learned the German word for "hickey" in my 101 class (knutschfleck) and my skit group exploited the birthmark to make me appear an even more villainous roommate (in the skit, i had stolen a roommate's boyfriend and come home with a "knutschfleck").

It really doesn't show up in pictures, mainly because of a mixture of 1) being photographed from the left, 2) cruddy cameras, 3) shirts that manage to cover up that part of my neck, or 4) my hair covering up that part of my neck. That didn't stop my sis-in-law Jami from covering it up when she did my make-up and hair for the wedding last year, mainly because all four of those fortunate circumstances wouldn't be coming into play that day. Seeing that in all my pictures would bug me, she said. (She was right. It would have.)

 An instance of "cruddy camera", so you really can't see it too well . . . but it's the best one I could find in a one-minute search.

I've gotten pretty used to this mark being a part of my life, but I sometimes take it for granted that other people don't immediately know it's a birthmark, like Kathryn. So once I realized what she'd been assuming, I laughed, too. And I had to tell her the sad truth that my husband had not been responsible for it. Although maybe I should have just let her think so. It's good for people to know you and your spouse get along.


"A kiss is a lovely trick, designed by nature, to stop words when speech becomes unnecessary." -Ingrid Bergman

Friday, June 15, 2012

So You Want to Be a Rock 'n' Roll Star

I'm never going to be a celebrity, and I'm pretty happy about that. I think my life will be a lot more hassle-free if I remain that way. But if ever I were a celebrity, I would have wanted to be one in the late 70's.

"Why?" you may wonder, as well you should.

Because if that had been the case, I could have done something like this.

That's right -- be a guest on The Muppet Show. I think Rowlf and I could have played a lovely duet together.


"The nice thing about being a celebrity is that when you bore people, they think it's their fault." -Henry Kissinger

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Up the Ladder to the Roof

For anybody still waiting on the edge of their seats for an explanation of why we were rudely awakened at one a.m. a couple of weeks ago, I hereby give you: The Roof Saga. It's long, and I'm sorry for that -- I sincerely wish it were shorter, for my sake.

March 28th: I arrive home from a trip to GJ with my mom and sis and see through the kitchen window that there's something hanging off of our roof. Little do I know that it is, in fact, the roof itself, which has been severely damaged by windstorms that came along while I was out of town.

April 5th: Brief snow storm.

April 6th: The snow melts, and while I am working, I hear dripping sounds coming from the living room. Yep, it's leaking through my ceiling, and soon enough the dripping becomes a deluge, coming into my living room, my furnace room, and the office. Cue Megan panicking, phoning the manager/maintenance guy, texting Glen to come home, running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to stay on top of the leaking (which is next to impossible when the leaks are at their fastest and i'm not sure of where all the leaks are coming down), and refraining from strangling the downstairs neighbors when they come upstairs asking if I know anything about a leak. "No, I had no idea water was invading my apartment! Thanks for letting me know! AARRRGGGGHHHH!!!!"

By the time Glen comes home an hour and a half later (and i spend about ten minutes crying from stress once he does), the worst is over and he probably doesn't believe how bad it actually was, but we spend the rest of the afternoon/ evening mopping up the carpet and the spot on the ceiling where there has been an obvious pooling of water, thereby missing the first performance of the Easter cantata we've been preparing for for the previous two months.

April 10th: My manager finally has gotten a hold of the owner of the building, who will send roofers. (i've been bugging my manager every day about this, and the weather has fortunately been nice, but that's not going to hold.)

April 11th: Rain starts again. Nobody's come. Glen gets on the roof with a couple of guys from our ward, and they pull the enormous and heavy rubber sheeting back over our roof that had been blown over (exposing most of our apartment) and weigh it down. No leaking. Yay! Glen is my hero.

 Glen after his exploits on the roof

April 17th: The maintenance guy finally returns my call. Thanks so much.

April 19th: I hear strange noises on the roof. Hope rises, but nothing happens.

April 23rd: Manager tells me the owner is getting roofer estimates, but they all seem too high, so he's still getting estimates. Good grief.

April 25th: Owner himself shows up, is a personable older gentleman, and I manage to not snarl at him. He finally realizes that the reason why the estimates have been so high is because the roof is VERY damaged and needs to be completely replaced, as opposed to the little hole he must have thought was there. Light bulb! He gives me money for us to buy ourselves a pizza because of Glen's efforts on the roof. Yeah, that makes up for it.

April 30th: Owner shows up again, this time with an insurance adjuster, who takes photos of the roof and the interior of my apartment. Could a fix be coming soon?

Month of May . . . nothing, nothing, nothing . . .

May 29th: Hallelujah! There are roofers! They're making a TON of noise, and making me think they're going to drop equipment through our ceiling, but hey, it's finally getting fixed after two months, so I'll put up with it cheerfully.

May 30th: 1 a.m. Someone comes banging on our door, and since they're not stopping and banging on all the neighbor's doors, as well, we figure we should actually answer it. We're told to evacuate the building because the roof is now smoking, and has been, it seems, for several hours. There's no fire that we can see, but there's definitely smoke, even though we couldn't smell it from inside. A neighbor's brother goes up and see a big smoldering patch in about the middle of the roof (finally, a part of the roof that isn't directly over our apartment, i kind of think to myself). Three or four fire trucks show up, they hose it down, try getting information from us about our owner/manager, the roofing company, etc. Several other neighbors come out, thanks to all the bright, flashing lights. After about 45 minutes, we're allowed to go back inside, but now we're wide awake. Glen and I try to make ourselves tired by watching the last hour of Pride and Prejudice, and subsequently go to sleep at about 3, but it still takes me a while to actually drift off.

The roofers show up at about 7 a.m., not having a clue about what went down last night, but one of our neighbors goes out and informs them, in case the black patch on the roof doesn't clue them in. I see two of them exit their truck, smoking. And I think, if that's why our roof was smoking last night, they're dead meat. In the end, we never hear about the real reasons behind what happened, since they were already fixing the roof and so they just replace that portion, anyway. But the rest of the week that they're working, I'm a little more resentful each time they crash around up there.

June 1st: The roof is finished.

So concludes the Roof Saga. Would that it were shorter . . . or non-existent.


"Frisbeetarianism is the belief that when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck." -George Carlin

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Sleep with One Eye Open

I am incredibly tired.

Probably not the most tired I've ever been, and most likely not the most tired I ever will be, but still . . . I am excessively tired.

This could be due to the fact that I was rudely awoken last night at 1 a.m., stood outside for 45 minutes, and consequently wasn't able to fall asleep once I did get back in bed. Glen wasn't falling asleep very easily, either, so in an attempt to get our eyes tired enough to match the rest of our bodies, we "watched" the last hour of Pride and Prejudice until 3 a.m. And I still wasn't able to fall asleep for another half hour after that. And then there was the normal awakening at 6:40. Blech. Need sleep. NEED SLEEP!

I blame the roofers.

Stay tuned for the Roof Saga.


Thursday, May 10, 2012

Let's Dance the Last Dance

I've never been into Dancing with the Stars. When I've caught the occasional show, I've enjoyed seeing the dancing and such, but I never cared all that much about it. Not even when a certain former boy band member, whose face used to litter my bedroom walls, participated. Although, I do remember being mildly upset when I found out that Slater didn't win the year he was in it. But even so, I never really watched it on a regular basis.

That has changed. When in GJ in March, we watched an episode at my aunt Camille's, and I just kept up on it once I returned to Provo. There are now four couples left, which means that the nail-biting can really begin. (sorry, melissa gilbert -- there was no way you'd last past this week, as much as i was shocked to see you saved last week.)

My favorite this season has been Donald Driver, but I have a feeling he's not going to win. The judges keep on low-balling him, which is driving me a little nuts. They rave about his performance, but insist on giving him mere 9's, which seems to me unfair, especially when compared with William Levy's lackluster foxtrot that garnered him a perfect score this week. Not that William didn't do well, but I don't think he deserved his score. Donald, however, seems to put so much personality into his dances and has so much fun in addition to dancing well. I really enjoy his dances, and I really like seeing his cute wife and kiddos cheer for him.

(p.s. i loved, loved, loved, the dance trios this week. donald's jive = totally my favorite.) (are you listening, len goodman?)

Since I have my doubts about Donald winning, my hope then is that Katherine Jenkins will take it all home. She's had some beautiful dances and has been at the top of the leaderboard very consistently. Not to mention the fact that she didn't miss a single step when her pant leg didn't rip off correctly and was stuck on her foot for part of her trio dance this week. Wow! She, however, is another that has yet to grab that elusive perfect score. Come on, judges! Maria and William have been dancing well, but I simply like Katherine and Donald so much better! (and that's even discounting maria's maniacal laughter, which also drives me insane.)

I do not profess to be an expert. Heck, my husband knows more about ballroom dancing than I do. So maybe others disagree with my hopes/assessments of the remaining contestants, but I can definitely look forward to some great dancing as the season comes to a close. Good luck to my favorites!


"Wives are people who feel they don't dance enough." -Groucho Marx

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Who Stole the Cookie from the Cookie Jar?

I asked myself last night if I'd eaten too many cookies. And then I realized something . . .

. . . There is no such thing as too many cookies.


"Watch, learn, and don't eat my cookie." -Phoebe Buffay

Monday, April 30, 2012

They Say It's Your Birthday

Warning: there is birthday stuff in this post, including videos about opening gifts, which are probably really boring. However, no pictures were taken on my birthday, and I looked darn cute, so I'm putting up the video of me opening gifts so you can all see how adorable I was at the beginning of the month.

Glen and I were born only one day apart . . . sort of. He came along four years later, but since our birthdays are so close, he will never have a good reason to forget my birthday. Mwuhahahahaha! It's probably weird to post about our birthdays nearly a month after the fact, but oh well.

Here's Glen's:

What a nice wife he has to make him such a pretty cake.

I have a feeling we're going camping this summer. (yay!!!)

And mine:
The addition of Sgt. Schulz was particularly fun.

Glen was attempting to "hide" the dresser he got for me while I was off playing with Mama and Kelly in GJ the week before. But I'm afraid subtlety wasn't the dresser's strong suit.

I like my earrings, that is certain.

So here's to being a year older . . . and wiser, too?


"There is nothing better than birthday cake. It's like a slice of concentrated love with buttercream frosting." -Takayuki Ikkaku

Saturday, April 28, 2012

I Was Born Under a Wand'ring Star

I don't know how many colds I've gotten in the last year or so, but I'd say it's excessive. I blame it on the fact that I work at home and never see people, so on the occasions we go to hang out with other people (usually when it includes children), my immune system is not tip-top. Although Glen thinks I should blame communism. Also a viable option.

What's lucky is that rarely have I gotten Glen sick. Except this time. My "cold" really hasn't been too terrible, but Glen came down with one about two days after my throat started feeling prickly, and last night, he could hardly breathe because he was so stuffed up. Poor fella. And this is what he sounded like this morning.

Nice, huh? And this is the guy who sings tenor in songs like this.

And I thought getting a cold made me sound like a man.


"Women don't want to hear what you think. Women want to hear what they think -- in a deeper voice." -Bill Cosby

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Pump It

No longer being single, I don't hear as often about the creative and fun dates my friends go on. But when I was hearing about such things, a popular date activity was racquetball. I never did it myself, but in retrospect, it's probably better for me that I didn't. The sight of my face alone, not counting my ultra-competitive nature, would probably have been enough to send my date running in the opposite direction . . . or at least, make them not-at-all eager for a successive date. This spectrum should give you a good idea of what color my face is when I exercise.

Exercising on dates really would never have worked for me when I was single.

Fortunately, now that I've landed my man and he's stuck with me, I can exercise on dates all I want to and he just has to deal with how I look. Bahahahaha!!!! Which means I've pseudo-taken up racquetball. We've only gone twice in the last couple of weeks, and I'm just awful. But as we keep going and I (possibly) get better, perhaps the predominant expression on my face while I play will change from this . . .

. . . to this.

Minus the fur, of course.


"I believe that every human has a finite number of heart-beats. I don't intend to waste any of mine running around doing exercises." -Buzz Aldrin

Friday, April 20, 2012

Let the Memory Live Again

Picture this:

It's early 1996, you're 11 years old, and all you want to do after you come home from your ballet lesson is play solitaire on your family computer. (why? because computer solitaire is the coolest.) It's you and your 14-year-old brother at home, and he won't get off the computer. What do you do to make him move? Or rather, what does he coerce you into doing so that he will move? Observe.

I must have really liked solitaire.


p.s. Tom was nice enough to not post this video without my permission, and when he told me he had avoided the temptation, I responded that he should load the video so that my husband could at least see it. And then I figured, I get a laugh out of this, and I may as well let others do the same. (you don't see me posting the video link directly on facebook, though. i only post here because not many people read my blog.)

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Who am I?

If anybody else read this post title and immediately started singing Les Mis, you're not alone. ("two-four-six-oh-OOOOOOOOONE!") And even if you were the only reader who initially thought of that, you're probably not the only one thinking of it now. (ah, the power of suggestion.)

But in all seriousness, this is a question that is constantly popping up in my head (and the song subsequently gets stuck in there, too). How many of us really go through life without contemplating who we are and who we want to be? That's not me at all. And then there are the questions that accompany this reflection: Am I bridging the gap between who I am now and who I want to be at the right pace? Am I moving in the right direction? What lack I yet? How much change can I really take before I become someone unrecognizable? How much do I want to change? What do I want to keep?

Lots of questions. But that's all right.

Without these questions, I would never evaluate myself and my life. I would never question why I am the way I am. I would never get to know myself. I would never seek for answers. I would never look for ways to improve myself. I would never identify my weaknesses. I would never identify my strengths. I would be simply content to lie back and be dormant. Apathetic. Stiff. Stale. BORING!

No, thanks. I know myself well enough to know that's not what I want to be. That's not me.

So back to the original question: Who am I?

I'm Megan. I'm Glen's wife. I'm Don and Kathy's daughter. I'm Kelly, Craig, and Tom's sister. I'm Mildred, Reed, Sam, and Joyce's granddaughter. I'm Nicole, Jake, Andrew, Jack, Ali, Lucy, and Graham's aunt (i think that's the order they came in, at least). You may say I'm defining myself by others, but I don't see it that way. These people are so important in my life that I couldn't define myself without them. They are part of what makes up who I am.

I'm Danish. I'm Manx. I'm . . . okay, I'm a Scandinavian mutt. I'm an editor. I'm a teacher. I'm a committee member. I'm a secretary. I'm a neat freak. I am compulsively early to everything. I live by lists. I'm a pianist. I'm a singer. I'm an accompanist. I'm a last-minute substitute organist. There are a myriad of other things that help me identify myself. No, none of them are very glamorous, but they're important to me. That's the key.

And that's not even all. I'm also a daughter of God. I've been taught this and believed it for as long as I can remember. I know so many other things about myself because of this simple truth. Because I know who I am, because I know I am loved by a Heavenly Father, I can become so much more than I am right this moment. There are still questions and I still need to evaluate who I am and which direction I'm going to take in my life, but I know I can go and do, grow and improve because of Him. His love and plan makes it possible for me to find the answers to the questions I mentioned above. How amazing.

No, I'll never be rich and famous. My life is quiet and probably will continue that way. But in the end, I do know who I am. I know who has helped shape my life. I know I can become who I really want to be. And no matter how many or few people I touch in this life, who I am is someone valuable.

So are you.


Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Out on the Weekend

Last week Glen and I realized something . . . there was a three-day weekend coming up in which neither of us had "responsibilities" to keep us at home. (yes, yes, tom, i know you had a one-day weekend. my apologies.) Since it's extremely rare that this kind of thing happens, I immediately decided we needed to make the most of it. Translation? Road trip to Moab!

It is slightly sad that winter in Utah this year has been relatively snow-free. I'm not suffering by it, because we all know I highly dislike driving in snow (although now that i work at home, what difference does it really make?). However, if weather here had been a little more "normal", we wouldn't have made the drive and wouldn't have had the chance to explore and enjoy the beautiful and simply amazing creations there are in this "little" corner of the world. So, thanks, Utah, for not snowing as much.

Trip Highlights:

- Free-entrance days at national parks and gift cards, which helped keep the trip on the cheap.

- Glen calling Balanced Rock "Gearshift Rock" . . . I didn't have the heart to correct him, but the signs on the road did.

- The hike to Delicate Arch . . . next-to-no-shade, which was good for us brave souls going there in January. And the view there. Made the whole thing worth it. (fortunately, the rest of the weekend wasn't a bust, either.)

- Being in Moab in the off-season; kind of weird, and plenty of stores/restaurants were closed until February or March, but it was nice not feeling like you were stepping on other people.

- Pasta Jay's . . . excellent garlic bread.

- Stopping to skip rocks and Glen lamenting that he didn't collect rocks from the Oregon coast when we were there on our honeymoon. Not many great specimens to choose from along the Colorado River.

- Fisher Towers -- the view was fantastic, and being there later in the afternoon cast a great light on the rocks.

- Laughing at our wind-blown hair on Monday when the temperature took a dip and we still ventured outside.

- The Green River Overlook in Canyonlands. Sooooo amazing.

-Glen being a goof in both the Arches and Canyonlands visitor's centers -- admiring the animal puppets and trying on skulls as hats.

- The great big enormous bird that was hanging out with our car at Grand View Point and Glen deciding to chase after it.

- Having a husband to drive through Price and Spanish Fork canyons in snowy conditions. I could have done it just fine (and it really wasn't that bad, anyway), but I'm glad I didn't have to.

- Coming home, unpacking, and savoring a weekend well-spent.


"No man needs a vacation so much as the man who has just had one." -Edward Hubbard

Friday, January 13, 2012

I'm Walking on Sunshine

Hello, everybodee! Some day I'm going to remember that I used to be good at regularly posting on this blog. And then I got married. Go figure.

But just to update, Christmas was great. We made our way to Missouri with Bethany (glen's sis), whereupon we were greeted by weather that very much reminded me of Oregon. Joan kept apologizing that it was raining and gray, but I felt that Missouri was just trying to help me make the transition. That's the kind of winter weather I know!

Glen's family LOVES to play games, and I ... well, I like games, but not to the extent they do. Drew roped several others into a Risk Penathlon (or Olympics, complete with opening/closing ceremonies and flags for the individual "countries" such as Cletus-and-Jethro-stan), during which time I caught up on a lot of reading. Not that I needed to catch up. So while they played, Joan and I would read in the living room. Solidarity, sister! I did play some games with the family, though, and that was pretty fun. We also spent time watching Christmas movies and singing carols around the piano together. Good time all around, despite the fact that everybody at one point got sick. My turn came the day or so before we departed for Utah, and I spent our flights desperately trying to stave off my runny nose. It was a late night getting into Salt Lake (thank you again, floyd, for picking us up . . . you are a saint), and Glen will tell you I was ready to be home.

New Year's was pretty mellow, just the two of us, but after a week with eleven people in one house and then getting a whopping cold, it was just what I wanted. We crawled into bed at about 11:55, so we were still awake enough to not appreciate the fireworks that several of our neighbors lit off.

So now we're back to the same ol', and Glen's got a new slew of classes to keep him busy, and I think he's enjoying himself. And naturally I have made some resolutions, thanks to a new year, to improve myself. I got a bit lazy toward the end of the year with my physical/emotional/spiritual, etc., habits, and I want to get back in the swing of things. Here's to keeping my goals!


"You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club." -Jack London