31 July 2008
then after we found out WHO was living with WHAT ENEMY, i went to jordi's house with some other people. *sidenote: jordi's dad was elizabeth's OBGYN for my nephew's birth. fer small world!* we watched wipe-out and i about keeled over laughing. it was in this moment i realized i have changed a lot in the last 11 months since i evacuated costa rica. my mind wandered back to 2 nights after i returned home. i watched the illusionist with cameron, and then went upstairs to bed. 30 minutes later sarah came in to find me on my bed in the fetal position, sobbing, my mascara in big frightening trails down my face.
"what's wrong?!?!" she asked.
"i (gasp wheeze gasp gasp and snort)-didn't-dooooooo (gasp) ANYTHING that MATTERS today!!! and i watched the illusionist!"
"i know, it's kind of a melancholy, eerie movie, huh."
"no....it's just.......it all comes back to everyone needs to know how important they are!!!!!"
then i think i went on to explain how if all the characters in that movie realized their divine nature they wouldn't have struggled in certain ways. like hollywood is concerned with divine nature.
that was when sarah almost took back her statement made the previous day that i wasn't that awkward.
but anyway, if 11 months later i'm watching cheesy lifetime channel movies and watching the show that is a blend between american gladiators and america's funniest home videos, the mission awkwardness must be past me. it's the little victories that get me.
-a co-worker said to me today:
her: oooh, i like your shirt! let me see the top of it, it's hidden under your jacket.
me: yeah, i like to layer stuff.
her: yeah, that's so mormon.
-in the last few days, about a million people have told me i look just like the girl on this month's cover of the ensign, or they've asked me if i have a sister who's into religious modeling. this has been bugging me ad nauseum et infinitum, and i'm not sure why. maybe it's because her bangs are greasy. whatever the reason explains why i want to look like me, me and only me, nobody else but me, only me, it'll have to wait, as my shrink is on vacay in barbados this week and out of service range. jk.
30 July 2008
which just goes to show if you say you'll never do something, and your name is meredith eaton, it usually means you will end up doing that something. "i'd never go on a mission." "i'm never eating chocolate again!" "i'm never going to live in CA again." como se dice jinx? but hot dog, if i've got to leave a place, at least it's for a place where the sun shineth eternally and the beach lies at my fingertips.and i've never been opposed to having good sorts of feelings about my next step in life and the people i am putting myself nearer to.
vegas, i love thee and the fact that you have a TERRIBLES car wash on every corner. getting your car sudsed up by multi-colored, passion fruity smelling soap never was so much fun. i love your dry heat and the good things it does for me when i'm trying to flat iron my hair. i love knowing that at any given moment, i'm probably in the same city as paris hilton, and definitely in the same city as one of the largest gold nuggets in the world (at the golden nugget). and i could go on...
i am taking one thing from vegas with me:
25 July 2008
The guy moseying on through with the bruskis is our new pal Herb. Or I just want to call him that.
LOVE was fantastic; I think my favorite part was seeing it with Elizabean, since we bonded with The Beatles together as younglings. The show had lots of energy, Elizabeth has lots of energy, I have lots of energy, when we're together and listening to Fab Four there is a high likelihood of implosion or spontaneous combustion.
Moi at the Mandalay Bay pool. It was loaded with Cabanas and a Lazy River and a "Wave" Pool, but also, I'm sorry to say, the most unfortunate grouping of people ever. Dad was so traumatized that after a while he went to the Four Seasons pool for a while to escape the diabolical conversations we couldn't help overhearing. It was like the herds (audiovisually) you find at concerts and amusement parks. I don't care if you're living on a steady diet of Ben & Jerry's and Curly Fries, that's your right and privilege, but that means you trade in your bikini/speedo rights. But we put mind over matter and tuned them out, and thus I am found in my sophisticate mode.
Sal + Hal = endless conversation on movies and books. These 2 should write books and make movies, because they know everything, and I mean EVERYTHING about them. Every single one.
Sadie bears no prejudice against fake sand. Or keeping her floaties on whether in the water or out. Like her mother before her, she likes some extra protection and cushioning in every day life (if you knew Elizabeth in jr. high, you know about the helmet).
luckily it's under warranty and i can swap it for a new one this afternoon when i have my "apple appointment." however i can't drive in silence, and for the last 24 hours the only cd i've had in my car is joseph arthur's redemption's son. a good album, but too much of that melancholy stuff and you start writing existential poetry to rival that of a californian relocated to siberia.
i've had no alternative but to turn to FM. i was kind of excited to see what the new pop culture songs are; i generally just get music recommendations from people whose taste jives with mine and leona lewis and chris brown are somewhat enigmatic to me and my little ears.
i don't even know what the good stations are in vegas, so i just scanned and scanned until i wound up with 102.7, 104.3, and 106.5 (apparently those are the hippest stations in all 3 of the states i've ever lived in, just different deejays yacking away on each).
oh. my. gosh.
these are the greatest hits i've come across the last day of radio cruising:
-more sugar ray than my high school reminiscing capacity ever intended to handle
-LADY MARMALADE. i forgot how musical pink...isn't.
-a josh groban song about not giving up
-a celine dion song about not giving up
-another song definitely sung by a brothah about "we can fly through the night you and i together with the clouds"
-i listened to the spanish station for a while and apparently some singer's just died. sad.
-meredith brooks. i'm not kidding.
-rascall flats and more rascall flats.
-the 90s up until 2001 apparently chunked out the "classics."
24 July 2008
If you haven't already read any of his stuff or heard it read on NPR, it's not something to be missed. I feel 2% more complete as a human being now that I've got one of his books of short stories. They totally inspire me for their snarky tenderness.
Just my little book recommendation for this, the 24th of July.
22 July 2008
21 July 2008
in february 2006 cam and i went to a coldplay concert. it was a rootin time, and i can only imagine how fabulicious this tour is, since X&Y is a horrible album in comparison to Viva la Vida. anyway cam had been getting on sarah's case and mine for periodically dropping the "d-word" and "h-e-double hockey sticks." he had in fact given me a mini-lecture that very afternoon. when cam was trying to park the car in the hotel garage, we were having the uncomfortable sensation i imagine a turkey would have trying to squeeze through a doggy door. not seeming to fit, and almost kissing the car parked next door, cam let out the following word:
i had a friend at byu (or i guess i should say i do have a friend...it's not like we've had a falling out...i just never see her anymore and have no clue where she lives) who had lived in germany as a child and from time to time would drop curse words in her mater tongue. so i knew what that word was, from whence it came, and what it meant.
me: (laughing instantly) cam! do you know what you just said?!
me: where'd you get that word?
cam: i dunno, my friend at school says it. it's like instead of "crap."
me: i know! it's german for "_ _ _ _"!
cam: (red in the face) ah. i see. (trying not to smile)
me: (quoting him from that morning's lecture) you know, you should really think of what a nice young person like yourself sounds like when inappropriate words come out.....
i miss cam. he goes to ecuador 1 week from today. bon voyage, pal.
18 July 2008
anyway, i'm not a whiner, either. i just have this little thing to say:
confession: i hate cooking. as far as i'm concerned, cooking can take a long walk off a short bridge. but not all cooking, because i love food cooked for me, i just refer to the cooking that i am asked to do. someday i'll find a homeboy that i want to spend the rest of my life nurturing and cooing over, but never cooking over. someday i'll have muffins of my own and i will love them more than myself, but not enough to cook for. it's the sad truth, or so i like to tell meredith, version 2008. but it's for their benefit! really! i'm no good at it. while a student at byu i went a full 8 months basically living on protein bars. by the end of it i was in desperate need of chlorophyll, but gee heck, i was alive and kicking and had a bit of muscle definition. then i went home for summer and sobered up a bit, thanks a la meri eaton's steady purchasing system in the produce department. but anyway my roommates that year of college had teased me that i'd settle down with a picket fence and when my husband came home from the office and my kids scampered in with dusty knees i'd be in an apron, unwrapping promax bars and placing them on plates, calling in a sing-song voice, "supper's readyyyyyy!" whichever roommate HADn't just told that joke (again) would chortle in agreement and i'd give a chuckle and think, "yeah? so??"
why do i stink at it? i don't know. i follow the instructions. i just don't have the....the cooker's wrist, shall we call it. those in the cooker's wrist club know how to drizzle olive oil, can knead bread dough, get the pit out of an avacado without destroying the edibles, know how often to turn over the grilling chicken without burning it and somehow making all the greased qualities you'd initially given the pan STAY AROUND so the chicken doesn't start to leach on to the teflon. *pant pant pant* i'm getting sweaty palms just remembering the last time i tried to grill chicken. and chicken i don't even want to eat. bleh. since most of the blogs i read are done by mommies sometimes i happen upon a post that has a detailed description of what dinner will be and my inner alarm system cries out in desperation, "ABORT ABORT ABORT." sigh. i'm sure it's all so very tasty, but the idea of actually preparing it in truth begins to make it start to repulse my stomach and taste buds. how can that be? i'm just...i'm just a mess is what i am. :)
it's something not unlike holding and/or burping a baby. i can do that. i can do an ok job as in i know to hold the head, i was initiated into the irvine babysitting brigade at age 11 (for other paying people...i suppose i was an eaton babysitter from the age of 6), i know how to keep them elevated and i know how to love love LOVE them to pieces. kinda like i know how to keep the rice from actually catching fire. but i don't have that MOMMY HOLD down and i don't have the method to make it taste MOUTHWATERING down. it's like as soon as you bring a baby home in a car seat you just KNOW how to hold a wee bairn so they not only love the crap out of you, but they are so comfy they could fall asleep in the middle of a "monster ballads" concert. i've seen it myself countless times. especially with elizabeth. in the 90s we'd go babysitting together and be about on the same level of infant-know-how-iness. but the day her first nugget was born i called her at the hospital and she was somehow...different. her voice was just different! my big sister had become even bigger, and before mine own ears! i love her for many reasons, one of the top ones being what a wonderful mummy she is, but it's something i won't be able to share with her for a while. we share almost everything else, except for kris jex and vegetarianism, but it's like she became a mommy and just KNOWS how to hold any baby now, the chip was implanted with the epidural or something positively sneaky like that. every baby, like every version of a spinach salad, is a bit different, but elizabeth could not only make every single one of the babies on earth sweetly secure in her arms, but she could martha stewart the spinach off every spinach salad posted on www.recipes.com.
how does one acquire the cooker's wrist? to h if i know, because my elizabeth-mom-chef theory is not a blanket one. rachel ray is not a mother and word on the street is she really knows what she's doing. in 30 minutes, even! that giadi gal was whipping up culinary perfection long before her baby girl was brung. it can't be limited to mommy-dom endowments of knowledge. practice? please don't tell me it's practice, because in that case i have been practicing for YEARS and it definitely is not making anywhere NEARLY near perfect. it's way below the equator of perfect. and i'm ten times more a ragamuffin than a perfectionist, but if i'm going to mess up my mascara by chopping onions, and if i'm going to handle dead animal innards for the ones i love, it better make their tastebuds sing a song of joyful satisfaction. so far all i've heard is crunching. slow crunching. i crunch reluctantly, as do they.
another thing: fruits? there. veggies? done. mother nature put them there in its fresh and delish form, throw it in the microwave with some water in the bowl or eat the apple and stop when you see seeds. humus? you buy it at the store or if you're in irvine and dad has a minute you throw chickpeas and other stuff in the quisinart and BAM! i'm happy with my limited abilities and feel nourished.
maybe the love i should at some point feel for a certain choice dude + spawn would be enough for me to at least try to move beyond humus and broccoli. i'm willing to consider the possibility. as for and until that moment, i'm 100% thrilled with the knowledge that my dinner tonight will be the product of the blood, sweat, and tears of some professional, and placed in front of me piping hot for my indulgence.
17 July 2008
today, due to the inhuman heat of the desert, my precious, brand SPANKING new stick of clicking deoderant, exploded all over my car door.
i was so disgusted i stuck my nose up, drove around leaning far to the right, and chose to ignore the aforementioned catastrophe until at least 5:30 pm. when i imagine cleaning this thing i see a plastic spoon, lysol wipes, and grumbles.
i'm so not long for the vegas world.
when i was like, 17 i saw a movie called fools rush in. maybe you've seen it, and if you have, i'd have to be a little bit surprised, because if i do recall correctly it didn't do so hot in the theaters. como se dice "migraine for studio executives"? but just like she's the man, charlie bartlett, enough, and loads others, i am such a sucker for movies like these because they're easy. easy squeezy entertainment. they don't require too much thought, they spell it all out for you not unlike your kindergarten teacher. they always end happy, and include 2938 cliches. so when i'm tired and can't offer up the deserved attention span to a deep character developing movie like darjeeling limited, i go for a lovable flopper. did i mention after the 2nd time watching these movies are incredibly quotable? "darling, they fell in love! and looooove....is a beautiufl thinnng...." which is why in my personal DVD library i've already blasted "frequent use" scratches onto my personal DVD of fools rush in. there's already one memorable quote from this movie that has already come true in my life!
Tracey Burnham: Well nobody ever plans to end up in Vegas. You just do. Kinda sneaks up on you.*
*no disrespe-tin' vegas. but seriously folks, if you'd told me 5 years ago i'd live in vegas i'd have told you to alert the presses, you were entering the cirque lodge for detox. anyway, moving on.
salma hayek's character in this movie is deeply religious. She desperately cleaves to fate and signs and waits for one before making big decisions. so as not to bust out any korihor behaviors, (alma 30:43) i'll not start it in seriousity.
BUT. if i did, as to and pertaining to the current decision i think i've made about where to go/what to do, this is what i'd come up with:
-got a speeding ticket from a (kindly) cop returning to vegas from irvine on tuesday. leave vegas.
-the weather was cloudy on wednesday in vegas. my favorite. stay in vegas.
-the albertsons in irvine didn't have samples. stay in vegas.
-the song don't leave home by dido just came on my ipod. go back to irvine.
-the apartment i was going to move into here in vegas when my lease expires in september is not in a ward i really want to be in. leave vegas.
you get the idea. just if i were salma hayek.
16 July 2008
14 July 2008
10 July 2008
Be the one that gets Rufus Wainwright to play for hetero team. Then of course I'll convert and marry him. Is that so wrong?
09 July 2008
08 July 2008
07 July 2008
lack of productive behavior is a voyage of soul gnawing and watch glancing.
i never ever ever ever ever thought i'd say this, but i'm enthusiastic about the prospect of returning to work tomorrow.
p.s. since every blog seems to be reporting on day of independence, i'll throw it in to be cooperative: the 'rents and sally and i went to the reynoldzizzles for, among other things, the best apple pie, the cutest blonde girls running and swirling around the fireworks, and a concierto. thus saith ray charles: i'm talkin about, america, sweet america, God done shed his grace on thee-eeeeee, he-he-he-ee crowned thy good, and with brothah-hoooood, from sea toooo shinin sea!
06 July 2008
02 July 2008
A cast full of familiar and talented and faces*, written by a GENius, and all together an enjoyable cinematic experience. If you know Jim-a-lim Eaton, $10 says you'll agree Dustin Hoffman's mannerisms are so him.
If you have beef with watching R rated movies, get a Clearplay. And if you don't have beef with watching R rated movies, go to Blockbuster or Hollywood Video.
*Dustin Hoffman, Robert DeNiro, Anne Heche, Woody Harrelson, Kirsten Dunst, and a few others that escape me at the moment.
01 July 2008
Argyle biking spandex. I was impressed. Only in Irvine.
Bagpiping went down as detailed out and planned to a very clear and crisp T.
Getting swindled by the nail people. I learned the hard way that if they ask you if you want ANYTHING, say with a firm resonance to your voice, "NO." Even when they ask you, "Would you like me to put nail polish on?" I guarantee that by saying that little word that starts with a "Y" you are unwittingly piling $5 more onto your tab. So do as they taught us long ago in 3rd grade and just say no.
I know, the bridal party was about the size of a Liza Minelli wedding.
Can ya believe the flowers??!?!?!?!?