week 29 - a change of heart

Week 2 - A picture of you and the person you have been closest with the longest

I don't like this label. It has me compartmentalizing all my relationships into times and "levels of closeness". But closeness is too complex a word. Physically - it's my co-workers, I'm always at work. Emotionally? Mentally? Who knows!


So I'm taking the easy route, Martha has been my sister for 23 years (plus or minus an eternity), and we have been across every level of closeness over that time. I remember trying to throw a chair at her in our youth because I was just that furious! Of course I don't remember what she was doing at the time but I remember it was in the boys room. I can still smell the stink of what we all blamed on the iguanas but was more than likely the stench of just that, boys. Yick!


On the other end of the spectrum, I remember jogging to her house at 3 in the morning because I could rely on that closeness during a particularly rough patch in my life (and freaking out her neighbor since I had no way to get inside so I was 'prowling' around her house... but that's a story for another time). She's going to make a great Therapist. She knows when to be serious, she knows when you need to laugh, and she'll make it happen. She's understanding, patient and gives great advice. She has this tough girl facade that runs deep - yes, I know that's a contradiction. But it's true, she's tough as nails on the outside and has a genuine strength on the inside. Hmmm... Maybe this topic isn't so bad....


The picture part of this was pretty tough. I have a lot of pictures of us together and it's hard to just pick one. It actually made me want to dig through my kid pictures to find one of just us together - to prove that we liked each other when we little too - but I kept being drawn back to this one. And it's the grossest one I have! It was while we were working at IFA together. Some lovely person clogged up the toilet and there was nastiness all over the floor, leaking out into the hall. I was a pee-on (pun not intended) so it was expected that the clean-up should have fallen on me but Martha was a more valued and upper ranked employee. She didn't have to help. But she did.


I think you see where I'm going with this, She didn't have to help clean up raw sewage but she did to help her sister. Blah blah, more emotional drivel. But seriously, She jumped in (not literally, that'd be gross) without hesitation and helped. Now I don't think she thought of it this way at all - her helping her little sister - I know she thought it'd be fun to get all hazmated up, we had a blast! But I think that's what I love about her the most, she can make the most out of any situation. Even when there's poo on the floor:)

the countdown - week 30

Updated Note: This blog is titled “the Bare Beat” yet as I’ve been perusing the past posts I’ve noticed something, it’s mostly about me. Sure, Ben pops in here and there but in all honesty, until we start having kids I think this blog will be hovering around that somewhat conceited note. Sorry! But I will make an effort to include Ben in on this 30 week challenge. Maybe we’ll have a column “She” and a column “He”…..

 I haven’t been great about blogging but I recently saw this on a friend’s blog and wanted to try it. But not in 30 days – I'm not that dedicated, I’m shooting more for 30 weeks. That way, blogging should become a habit and I can include recent goings-on in our life. At least that’s the plan. Let’s see how it turns out.

 

Week 01 - A picture of yourself with ten little known facts

Opening night! Ah-MAZ-ing! -the show, not the lady's rear.

1. I worked at a pony ride and it is still, to this day, the BEST job I have ever had.

2. Contrary to what I’d always thought, I don’t like my sandwiches cut in any way. I fought with myself for a long time on this one. I felt like I needed to have a way to cut them; diagonal, horizontal, squares, triangles? I found myself hiding this from Ben. He would always cut my sandwich for me in what he thought was a cute show of affection (little did he know, it was tearing me apart inside). Instead of coming clean, I began taking a really long time to put my sandwich together so he would already be eating his and not notice that mine was uncut. But as of a few days ago I finally accepted myself and came clean, the center of the sandwich is the best part. don’t disrupt it.

3. I played soccer while growing up. I was primarily the goalie and I won’t lie, I felt like I was pretty darn good at it. In fact, our rival team gave me a nickname, “the wall”. Yes, I was flattered but because of my oversensitivity and the fact that I was (and still am) a porky kid:), I was always a little paranoid about it. 

4. I pretend to love and want a motorcycle. In reality, I’m terrified I would fall off of it and die. Considering my background with bicycles, I think those feelings are valid.

5. I have never broken a bone; which is pretty cool considering I hate milk (no calcium) and I’m clumsy.

6. I have an issue with #5. Once when I used this fact in a game of “Never have I ever”, I was told I must lead a boring life. I’ve rolled down mountains, been bucked off horses (and ponies), dove into pools of kicking feet (with cleats on), and lived a life with no shoes traipsing around the neighborhood as a child just as the other kids did. No I don’t lead a boring life. I lead a successful life. When I did stupid things as a kid, I didn’t get caught because I broke something – I got away with it. Is that the definition of success??? Hmmm. Thought provoking comment I just made there:)

7. As a kid I wore leg braces. I was pigeon-toed and had to wear these leg straightening metal brackets every night. Martha was the lucky one who shared a bed with me. I’m told she still has scars from my “jimmy legs”. 

8. My picture and one of my programs was in the most recent edition of the USU magazine. It was exciting:D

9. I am taking classes again, Management and Accounting. I want to work for Target as an HR rep. Hopefully my boss never reads this… Although I’m sure she’s gotten my obvious hints that I don’t particularly enjoy the behind the scenes aspect of fundraising.

10. I love traveling! Not by car, but by every other mode of transportation. My ultimate vacation destination would be to go on an African Safari. Where I could hold and play with all sorts of baby animals; elephants, tigers, lions, kangaroos, sea lions, panda bears, zebras, EVERY kind of baby animal!

There you have it. My goal was that, no matter who read this – even Ben, that they would learn something new about me. Did I succeed?

introducing....Charlie!

Whew! That 9 months flew by fast! (pun INtended) I know it's been a while since I wrote last but I thought, what better occasion than this to begin blogging again. After all, Ben and I did just add a new little addition into our family!

stop. I said 9 months because that's how long it has been since I blogged last. No, Charlie is not our child. He's our little baby birdie:)

He is 10 weeks and 1 day old today. He loves to snuggle and bury himself in between my hair and neck. Lately he's been bonding with Ben a bit more but he still prefers my neck and hair to Ben's anyday:)

Don't you worry! This blog is not going to turn into an ode to my pet, I promise! This entry serves 2 purposes; first to introduce you all to the newest member of the Bare family. Second and probly more crucial, it gave me something to write about after not writing for eons.

I know this picture is awful of me, but of Charlie...it's adorable!

people do this for fun?!

First off, keep in mind that I have never been a big fan of heights. My family can attest that the extent of my favorite Lagoon rides was the Scrambler, Puff the Magic Dragon and the highest I ever went was the SkyRide-even that one terrified me!

I can thank cousins Ashley and Brittany for helping, well forcing me to throw aside my fears and ride Screamin at California Adventures at the ripe old age of 12. They were both at least 4 years younger than me and I couldn't let them know I hadn't even ever gone on the old White Rollercoaster at Lagoon.

And now, at six flags I had the time of my life! On Tatsu (above) you fly like superman, relying solely on the safety restraints. While Ben was looking into the eyes of death with complete and utter happiness, I was terrified and fighting it to the bitter end. Hopefully this isn't an indication of how things will be when we really are dying... Well yes for Ben, but for me? Shutter.

The next near death experience was X2. This is my favorite picture of Ben ever! If I looked scared on Tatsu, he looked mortified on this one:) Neither one of us screamed for very long, the ride took our breath away and it was dificult to get any air past the stomach that was lurching in our throats. Oh and pardon my immodesty in this photo. I was rapidly approaching death and keeping my shorts down was the last thing on my mind. It was more on how on earth my sweaty palms were going to continue holding onto the handgrabs.

My favorite thing about Six Flags was that I learned that Ben is actually scared of heights too! He didn't put on this macho-guy show (but wasn't a sissy-boy either) which I really appreciated, it made me feel much less like a coward. Good thing Kirt, Ben's dad, told him to scream on scary rides or else I think he would've exploded:D

i've taken my "chill-pill"

a new school year, basically a new life.

Okay, maybe that's a bit dramatic. But really, I have had to change a lot this year and it's only the second week. I've always lived close enough to campus that I could leave 5 minutes before class and I could make it on time. now I have to adapt to a bus schedule. Yuk! Buses don't wait even just one more minute. Buses don't let you out right where you need/want to be. It's all on their time table. And I don't like having zero control over my schedule.

I've always been slightly anal about this kind of thing but now trying to adapt I'm noticing that it's slowing down my life. Last year and even this summer has been a constant rush. But now when I'm waiting at the bus stop or just sitting on the bus-waiting for Franni to take her coffee break when I'm losing valuable time to get to class- it's forcing me to just relax and take a "chill-pill." Surprisingly enough, I kind of like it. Sure it's frustrating but it forces me to be organized in a different kind of way. I'm definitely hoping it comes in handy one day.

there's my venting for the month.

gone fishin'

Something I've learned about fishing, you've gotta have patience. Ben thinks it's good for me. I disagree.

I don't like bobbers. That means I can't reel it in immediately. I just have to sit there.

I don't like sinkers. They pick up all the icky lakeweed (we weren't at the sea thus it is not seaweeed). And then you get all excited cause you think you've gotta a fish but then nope. Just green slime.

But I LOVE casting and I LOVE the baby ducks and I LOVE the sunshine and best of all, I LOVE the stories!

Answer: No, we didn't catch anything. But as always, we came away with many a fish stories...well, more like tree stories.

We caught a total of 3 trees. Wait... no, technically 4.

The first one I will admit, was my bad. With Ben's pole. (whoopsie!) It was actually almost immediately following this picture. (And by the way, when I left the house my hair was completely straight-not frufy(pronounced: Fruuu-feee). blasted humidity.) I was getting frustrated attempting to attach a bobber to my line when Ben ever so graciously agreed to do it for me. And I, in return, agreed to reel in his bobber and cast it again.

Problem: We were surrounded by trees, big ones, hanging over us and the water. I attempted a very fashionable side cast. The line whipped up beautifully and then ever so gracefully wrapped itself around the numerous tree branches.

Ben just stared at me.

But I fixed it! I daringly jumped from rock to rock (okay, there were only two, but I did lose a flip-flop in the process-don't ask why I was wearing flip-flops) to reach as far up the line as I could and Ben pulled as hard as he could while hiding behind a tree so he wouldn't get slashed when I cut the line. But we did it! We saved his bobber.

That was number one. The next one was all Ben. About two casts later, he beautifully executed an "Elizabeth cast." This happened two more times, once on a huge piece of tree floating right next to us, before we decided we needed to move to more open spaces....

We fished for a few more hours until I decided that I was only a good fisherwoman in Washington. But at least we didn't lose any more shoes, have to tromp thru anymore ice cold water or hook anymore trees! And best of all, I didn't have to eat any fish!

(To the left: the bobber just gleeked out water on my face. SICK!)

another one for Terri's list...

I've been through my share of traumatizing experiences in my life, Terri can attest to that. She's got a list of things that I cannot participate in. Snowboarding, horseback riding, river rafting, etc. I guess I just feel as though I have to go home with a more exciting story than the people I left home with. ya know? It's actually been speculated that perhaps I shouldn't even participate in the common art of walking. So what? I trip...a lot...

Anyway, Ben bought me roller blades for my birthday.

He wanted to be with me when I went for the first time just so he could make sure I picked it up okay. (That's what he said anyway, but I think he foresaw this catastrophe and simply wanted to be there to witness it.)

Don't worry, I wasn't foolish about this new experience. I've learned from my previous mishaps. I knew I shouldn't try to conquer the majestic hills of Logan without being comfortable with bladeing on flat surfaces first. So I started small.

I was headed to work about a mile and half away. Right outside our apartment there is a gargantuan hill so obviously I didn't start out with my new blades right away. I had every intention of putting them on at the bottom of the hill.

However, at the bottom of the hill was a rather busy street. I didn't even know if I could get up from putting these treacherous things on. Obviously I was NOT going to do that while people were driving by (with my luck they'd be so intrigued watching my struggle they'd drift off the side of the road and hit me. My wouldn't that be a story! Imagine, "I was just standing...well sitting there... well actually....falling there Officer. Over and over again. Right on my face each time. When out of the blue! Wham-o! They ran right into me! Did they not see me?!").

Back to the story, so there's lots of church parking lots in Utah right? (churches too obviously, but all I needed was the wide open, very flat, asphalt.) So I simply continued on my walk (about a mile later, I was almost at work and I hadn't even put on my blades yet!) until I found the perfect parking lot. It was ultra flat. I pulled myself up a lovely peice of curb and began dressing up my feet.

To my utmost HORROR a truck pulled in, with not just one or two but three people! They came to watch my awkwardness! I was and still am positive about this fact. But you can't just casually take off your blades when they've seen you only just putting them on. You'd look not only foolish but cowardly! A look that most assuredly does not compliment me.

What did I do? I finished lacing myself up and I boldly stood up. I did it! I stood up! I was completely stable! I shot them a smug look. Ha! I knew preciscely what I was doing. I glided past them, with my arms flailing and in awkward little almost-jumps.

After a long, and very agonizing few minutes, I finally made my way past them. I started to gain speed as I passed Martha's old house and my hair began blowing behind me as I just kept both feet on the ground, letting the slight slope do all the work. I was coming to a turn. Can you feel my terror? I still can feel my stomach in my throat when I think of it. I had no idea how to slow down much less, turn! I was about to die. My life as I knew it, was relying on an itsy-bitsy peice of plastic attached to the back of ONE of the blades.

I tentatively touched that tiny peice of plastic to the ground. Felt it grinding against the cement, noticed that I wasn't stopping and leapt out of death's grasps! Right onto grass. Oh sweet grass! Freshly cut grass! Very freshly cut.... the nice gentleman simply stared at me from behind his lawn-mower. I smiled, regained my composure and casually got back to my professional roller bladeing.

I knew I had to find somewhere casual to stop and take off these death-bringers. I did. Finally.
Only after another memorable encounter and countless jumps to the grass and the following awkward little baby jumps I found myself a lovely peice of ground to stop this terror. It had been one block. One blasted block.

Moral of the story: Don't leave your life in the hands of an itty-bitty hunk of hollow plastic.