As Of Late

After quite the absence of blogging I am back. The last little bit has been eventful to say the least. Here's a quick run down

In the last 6 months I:
* Graduated from BYU and got the heck out of there
* Continued doing the exact same job making the exact same amount of money I was making before I graduated
* Spent lots of time with my family
* Survived a snowy winter
* Fell in love and got engaged (Big day = May 2nd, wahoo!)
* Got a job in Alaska for the summer
* Passed my bus driver test and got an official Commercial's Drivers License
* Learned that if you're not in school and your employer doesn't offer healthcare, you should pray you don't get sick cause you are kinda screwed
* As the poem below indicates, started doing Yoga and am loving it
* Have turned into the budget wedding planner extraordinaire (if you've got any tips let me know)
* Sold my car, it was time
* Have sort of dropped out of contact with lots of people I love on account of business and have resolved to fix it
* Read 2 books on bear attacks and developed a phobia that may keep me in my cabin in Alaska
* Feel happy about where I am in my life, grateful for the people in it, and hopeful that all the curbs I've hit in bus driver training are not an indicator that I might take a bus load of people over the mountainside in Denali National Park

On Braving Yoga Class

All in the name of energy and centeredness
I sheepishly peak my head into the salty Yoga room
for the third time,
finally walking my black stretch pants in.
Looking around, pretending I've been here before I see others remove their shoes,
I remove my shoes.
Dark haired girl in the front finds a mat and black block from a hidden closet,
I get a mat and a block.
Lights dim, chimes arise from the grill of the speakers and I sit.

Find your hidden cobra,
I wiggle over on my stomach looking to my left and my right.
Leap into down dog,
Drop into up dog,
Counter-intuitive but I'm willing to try, butt in the air, feet sliding off the mat.

Rolling, stretching, breathing,
feeling happy I don't breath as loud as baldy over in the corner with his short shorts and tube socks.
Focus Betsy, he can breath as loud as he pleases,
In this place there is freedom.
In this place I breath.

i just want someone to say to me i'll always be there when you wake

I may not have had tap shoes but all in all the Howl was a definite success. We never actually made it inside due to the excruciating long line and pricey entrance fee but we saw male Hooters waitresses with extremely large gazungas, male cheerleaders, male prostitutes, lots of male legs... I thought everyone warned me about the skanky girls? Its ok though, we had Michael Phelps with us so we didn't feel out of place.

H-A-L-L-O-W-E-E-N spells halloween

2008 Jack-o-lantern contest is on. Please go to Danny's blog (http://dannyhoerman.blogspot.com/) to vote on the best pumpkin and just remember, what is cooler: a pumpkin eating another pumpkin or an asian jack sparrow? Go Cougs

UNICEF

Well, it was a success! We raised enough money to pay for 600 Measles Vaccines for kids around the world and taught my uncle how to play Guitar Hero. Go us!

Birthday Time

Yep, my birthday is coming. 25. Rachel tells me the amount of gray hair growth has obviously increased since turning 25 last August and Julia says she woke up on the day of her big 25 to dark Seattle rain and has not recovered since. Sounds fun, right? While I am trying not to feel bad that at 25 I'm still working on my undergrad, not yet written a best selling book or even a decent poem and (no matter how optimistic I have been) the world hunger thing is still an issue, I am going to welcome 25 with open arms.

There has been some great Betsy Bday parties through the years: the hay maze at the pig farm when I turned 6,

Skate King extravaganza at 8,

sweet 16 lady luncheon... And now, the Unicef 25!

I've been thinking a lot lately about what I can be doing now, before I have much cash or time or influence, to make some small dent in the issues that the world is facing. In my small amount of traveling I've seen poverty and hopelessness as well as resilience and goodwill. Call me self centered but I do believe that one person can make a difference. I do think that poor college students can do something. The Unicef club at BYU has been busy fundraising and trying to get the word out about some of the stuff that Unicef is doing and I think it is great.

So, I'm having a dual purpose event at my place on Oct 11 - Help me feel happy about turning 25 and raise a little money and hopefully a bit more awareness about some of the things that Unicef is doing. Please come. Even if you don't have any money to contribute still come, read some of the info that will be there, think about it, and then battle Nancy at Dance Dance Revolution (she's unbeatable), eat a burger, and hang out.

Saturday Oct 11 - 7:30pm
Foxwood II apts
840 N. 100 W. #12 in Provo

I can't wait to see you!

Jiffy Lube

So, as fate would have it, me and the Jiffy Lube guy have spent some quality time together this week. He’s probably about 27 yrs old and a real loud mouth. You know the kind, loves to explain anything and everything to anyone that will listen. Well anyway, the registration was up and it took me three different trips there plus a run to visit Eduardo up at Auto 1 and a visit to Ogden, a couple hundred dollars and two registration expired tickets to get my car (hopefully) up to par to pass safety and emissions. Yesterday felt a bit like judgment day as I sat in the Jiffy Lube waiting room waiting to see if they would pass my car.

I showed up after a long day of work and school about an hour before closing, plenty of time right? All they had to do was say, yes you did in fact replace your windshield and, yes you sure did get some new dust boots on those upper ball joints. However, an hour later I was still sitting there.

The first time I went into Jiffy Lube about a week ago I tried to muster up all the feminine powers that apparently I don’t hold to get my new friend to pass my car. I smiled real big and acted oblivious and even offered to get the guy some dinner while he worked on my car. I know, why don’t I just sell out and become that girl at the drop of a dime? Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, I am totally broke. While he joked back he was not budging. Whatever, I can deal with that.

So now here we are a week later, me and him. The difference now, though, is that I am tired, hungry, and had learned more about upper ball joints in the past week than I would ever like to know and am positive that my car should pass. After about an hour sitting there I got up and flagged my friend down to see what was taking so long. Oops! They had pulled my car to the side and helped the six people who had come after me. They’ll get to it right away. But anyway, so you a student? Oh yea, what you studying? English eh? We’ve got a Lois Lane on our hands, I bet you are a real good writer.

Umm, what? Here I am in this greasy garage with Jiffy Lube guy leaning up against the tool shelf smiling down at me trying to make small talk and calling me Lois Lane after he wouldn’t pick up the bait last week. Perhaps I had missed something, but really? I politely smiled and tried to muster up a semi-girly laugh so he would remember that the green Honda Accord was on track to pass and turned around and went back into the waiting room.

A few minutes later he came back in with the news that I had, in fact, passed the safety and emissions test. Hallelujah! At this point I was ready to pay whatever it is I needed to to get that dumb ’09 sticker and be on my way. Jiffy Lube man takes his sweet time explaining to me about the taxes I can pay there instead of going to the DMV bla bla bla and I’m like, yea yea okay whatever here’s my credit card. The deal is done and he follows me out to my car and starts again with the small talk.

So I’m standing there car done and paid for standing with one foot in the drivers side and this guy starts telling me how good he is at English. “Yea, I mean, I am great at English. I could probably do English, you know? My wife, man, she’s from Mexico, and she’s always screwin it up. I’m always like, hell that’s not how you say it, and then I correct her. Again and again with the same mistakes I don’t know why she won’t catch on. I know grammar so well I always tell her about it but she just won’t listen.”

Not knowing exactly how to respond to that I quickly agree that that’s rough, good luck with the Mexican wife and everything and get in my car and get out of there.