30 September 2008
1) i make wishes over railroad tracks. this started when i was 8 years old. my parents, in valiant efforts to turn their children into well-rounded future cheerleaders and maybe even cougarettes (pfffft), signed us girls up for dance classes. because they also hoped we'd be frugal cougarettes, they enrolled us in dance classes with a couple of schoolmates who lived nearby, thus promoting carpool collaboration. so every wednesday of 3rd grade (and continuing to 6th), we'd bring our spandex and tap shoes, change after school, and one of our mothers would taxi us over to the place of our rhythmic tutilage: tustin dance studio. to reach said facility we crossed over some train tracks. allison lowenstein, one of my dance buddies, would always touch her pinky to an exposed screw of the car interior, (usually inside a hanger hook) and lift up one foot (usually her right) as the mini-van flew over the tracks. allison explained that whenever you go over a railroad, if positioned and "at the ready," you could make a wish.
in them days, i was wishing for truckloads of things. a dog, for math to cease and desist in the whole "part of my life" way, that they would start making high heels to fit an 8 year old, and then that my mother would buy them for me, etc.
as an 8 year old, you have about as much control over your own daily destiny as a pet hamster. i think i got to pour my own milk at dinner, and chose my friends on the playground and after school, and...yep that's about it. so the idea, even a ridiculous one, that i could wield my own short term destiny was fantastic! while i knew it would help me in my math battles about as much as would wiggling my nose, it was strangely comforting to participate in railroad wishing all the same. i was all over it like white on rice.
there were ample railroad crossing opportunities. twice sundays to and from church, twice on wednesdays to and from dance, and any time i went to work with my dad. a minimum of 4 wishes per week?! my sisters caught on and any time there lay in the distance those candy cane levers, whether anticipated or on unchartered eaton territory, we'd go into a frenzy, trying to locate a screw to unite with our pinkies before it was too late. too late as in this little game turned into a do-or-die. it seemed that just as wishing on a train track brought increased chances for happiness in this life, to sit out on a railroad wish was sure to bring hellfire and brimstone. or at least we behaved as if that were true.
in time the near religious observance of the train track wishing well just turned into habit, and now it's more out of nostalgia for the days of yore. i just can't stop. true story.
2) i seem to behave as though there exists under the heavens such a thing as "driving karma." if i cut in front of people as they stack up and wait their turn to go right onto main from jamboree, i'll not take the closest available parking spot in my office garage. if i let people into my lane, especially if i do so more than once, than i feel entitled to the best spot i see. somehow, i don't think that this behavior is being recognized by any cosmic or higher power.
i never said this post was anything earth-shattering.
here's to world peace!
29 September 2008
in my last semester at BYU there was a girl in my ward named tasha haute. pronounce the last name "hot." tasha was a great gal; her portrayal of sporty spice in the ward lip sync was pretty much spot-on. the strapping gentlemen in the ward noticed her loveliness and started to plan to work on tasha, and then began to work their plans. i knew nothing of the successes or failures of these suitors, only that she had options a-plenty.
one night i was coming back late with some friends and parking the car. guess who should be stashed in the dark and apparently romance-spurring corner of the parking garage. tasha hot and fellow wardie john fudge! making out like 12 year olds! yes, 12 year olds. after closing our mouths so as not to appear cod-fishes, we evacuated the premises in a manner not unlike mary ann, mrs. dashwood, and margaret in that pen-ultimate scene in sense and sensibility.
in the time since, i have ascertained that tasha haute and john fudge did indeed take their compatibility to the bank, and were married after i graduated BYU.
so tasha became tasha hot fudge.
28 September 2008
26 September 2008
at THIS job, facebook is blocked (healthy) but the illustrious pandora is mine, all mine (healthier).
pandora is quickly becoming my best friend. it is so in tune with what i want to hear or become better acquainted with. if ever there were a gift that kept on giving, this would be it. i'm almost starting to feel guilty. all give and no take. guilty toward a musical website? yep.
but the real crux came when pandora played a song i, in fact, just didn't quite love. not that i hate dave matthews, i just don't feel like listening to him, hardly ever almost never. so i clicked the little thumbs down button. immediately swooping to my screen was this massive, servile apology and promise to NEVER play that song in the future.
if pandora were a person, i would have given it a big hug, said, "it's ok, i know you did your best, and that's all anyone can do," patted it on the head, and sent it on its way.
maybe even the internet has feelings. that would have made one bizzle-esque twilight zone episode.
but sometimes things come along that out-prioritize priorities.
last night i was initiated into this little club that watches a certain tv drama with religious diligence and masterful respect. while this show is now in its 5th season i never "got into it" until this last summer. now i've seen every episode, some more than once (hey, there's not much to do in vegas when your skin starts to melt off your face the moment you step outside). i suppose at first it was a cruel blow to my pride that i was so enamored of this show at all, but my gosh! it's amazing what thick curly "skillfully disheveled" hair and a scalpel can be when blended!
so while it's great that the tv show is back on (ignoring the fact that season premieres are always heavy on the "check out my new hair-do and how much weight i gained/lost over summer!" and over-acting) it is even grey-ter that the other members of the club are such fabulous company. i had far far far too much fun with them. today, these women are things which WON'T fall prey to my ugly cynicism and crankiness. this is because they're only lovely/lovable. they are true comedy, they are honest, they are sassy, they are kind, they all look great (which is nice because i can't be expected to hang out with ugly people...i've not done it before and don't intend on starting NOW), and just because i'm the only one without bling and people who grab onto my ankles and call me "mommy" we all know we can all still be real friends. we stayed up until 1am talking and eating and smothering each other in encomiums.
well worth friday crabbiness.
25 September 2008
24 September 2008
i saw him at tiffany's wedding right before my mission and thought, "welp, i'll never see him again!" i'm so pleased to be wrong. last night we went to todd's goodbye dinner together and i drove like a maniac and he'd bark at me to slow down, he'd burp loud enough to cause small tremors below our feet and i'd order him to say, "excuse me." we argue over who is the better looking person and are only half kidding (as in i'm the half that's kidding, he's the half that's not).
23 September 2008
22 September 2008
ever since i saw my best friend's wedding, i wanted to make creme brulee. then i found out that you have to blow torch it to carmelize the sugar for that tap-tap-tap-crack quality of the first bite. the pyro in me called for creme brulee all the more. my sisters will testify to the truth that i for years have been saying my christmas present to myself would be a torch. it's never happened; the torch usually takes a back seat to some great pair of shoes or something.
my friend dre made a miracle last night. little cute pots of perfectly made french custard. and then she was my own miracle in letting me torch my own. fairy taaales can come truuuuuuue, it can happen to yoooooou.....
21 September 2008
20 September 2008
19 September 2008
i shared the on-line scrabble love with my friend megan. we have been playing bi-coastal scrabble for about 48 hours now. i received the following email yesterday, it was so fabulous i had to share:
I am now enamored to the point of no return with online scrabble and believe that, due to my addictive personality, it will be the cause of my rapid demise...I can see it now...a poor soul swaddled in rags hunched over a blazing trashcan fire in the shanty towns of New York City's very own Central Park. From time to time a passing socialite may stop to offer the aforementioned wench a kindly word or a monetary token of goodwill and yet, she remains untouched. If one listens ever so intently she can be heard to utter quietly to herself as she rocks gently back and forth, back and forth, "a-x-e, that's 30 points!, 30 points!!"
What have you done to me??
megan, i make no apologies. not one.
18 September 2008
neph and niece at laguna
me and grandpa
me, mom, sarah at aly's wedding
mom breaking hearts at the BY
back when i was still cuddly
mom and dad in the days of yore
sarah the pixie-doodle
cam. what a dude.
dad and e at battle of the bands
where there are kris and e there is love.
intrigued nephew and tired niece
every year my mom and aunties are active participants in the "sisters-in-law retreat." it's quite exclusive. this year the epicenter, the ground zero o' fun is...my home base. the 1, 2, 3, 4 aunties are comin 'round the moun-in as i blog! so i'm foreseeing copious amounts of chocolate, diet coke with lime, movies where the women wear corsets or empire waists, and tales told of immediate descendents. maybe if i slide into some flannel jammies, wear sunglasses to prevent recognition, and tell stories about fake grandchildren, i can get in on some of the fun, too.
1, 2, 3, 4 aunties are 1, 2, 3, 4 times lovely.
17 September 2008
-my space heater at work. best $30 i ever did shell out.
-GPS. oh wait, i don't have one. it's something i shouldn't be doing without. i flip far too many u-turns in life.
2 things i would rather be eating (as opposed to the stale orbit gum that's currently floating around in my mouth):
-mochi balls (with some frozen yogurt on the side)
-the grilled vegetable salad from california pizza kitchen. it's so fabulous it could make a grown man cry and blubber.
2. the song Two by ryan adams. that's not 2 things, but it's one great 2. listen to it. now. if you want to, i mean.
2 things i miss about vegas:
-my co-workers. you'd miss them too. this is the christmas skit for which i wrote the script...ok...fine, i ripped off from the office:
-living in my own place but within minutes of charming family
2 movies you should see as soon as you're able:
-wag the dog
2 actions i'd take back if i could:
-eating at that hole in the wall taco shack last night
-telling sanjay bajaj i wouldn't dance with him at the 8th grade dance. that wasn't very nice.
2 reasons you should eat a large plunket of chocolate right this second:
-the rain in spain stays mainly in the plain.
-in honor of freddy and fanny and merrill. i don't mean to be flippant. chocolate, at the very least, can't hurt in times like these.
2 proofs that i am a child of the 80s:
-i know who she was and what she did for a living.
-i remember watching him perform at the grammies and my mother's subsequent lecture on using clean language (m.c. unfortunately didn't hear it, though.)
2 reasons for me to end this post:
-i have to go fax something.
-i'll get back to you on that other reason.
16 September 2008
when aly (the one in the lovely middle) and i had only been roommates a little while (and were still getting to know each other), we were grocery shopping at macey's. it was late at night, i was probably contemplating the paper i had not yet begun, which was also due the next day, and whether or not i should have picked up more discounted string cheese. it was a busy night, early enough in the semester to send BYU students in droves to the markets to fill empty cupboards with all the necessary ingredients to win lovers by nurturing stomachs. thus the store and the lines were sardine packing style.
all of a sudden aly turns to me and says with a very solemn, gentle voice, "so merzy, what are you going to do about your classes?"
i yawned, "what do you mean?"
"you know, [eyes widening and jaw clenching] what are you going to do about classes when...?" her eyes darted to my stomach and back to my face.
"aly, what are you talking about?"
in a slightly exasperated and definitely louder voice, "when the baby comes! are you going to drop out of your classes or wait for them to kick you out or what?!"
about 50 shocked eyeballs in my grocery line as well as the neighboring line-ups looked over at me. i started to laugh.
"merzy," she hissed, "this is not funny. have you even told the father yet?" i swear a few people gasped in line 7.
good times, good times.
15 September 2008
and now presenting, sir ian:
14 September 2008
13 September 2008
12 September 2008
a question lovely enough, but i recognized his tone of voice. he and mom had used that tone only a year earlier when cameron was still shaking and baking inside the mother meri oven. at FHE one monday evening they casually (translation: indifferently) asked, "so what should we name the baby?"
me: michael! or -- or bobby!
e: charles! william! (even then, elizabeth was attracted to power. just kidding.)
sarah: probably hiccuped or something. she was not quite 2.
dad: well, that's nice; thanks for your suggestions. we're going to name him cameron.
i wondered 2 things at that moment:
a) why bother asking our opinions if they'd essentially already embroidered the name on his blankets, and
b) since i'd never heard of the name "cameron" before, did they just invent that name as they probably had mine?
and indeed so it was again. my father requested auto make and model referrals, and i suggested with alacrity, but these fell on loving but deaf ears. the decision had already been made, and the next evening my dad rolled up in this beauty:
thar she blew. in all her confidence and glimmer, i was introduced to THE VOLVO. i hadn't been a great enthusiast of station wagons before then, but hey! it was a new car! and it was MINE (or ours). i ogled and probably did not sit down for two minutes together until i got to go out for a spin. a new car. a new volvo car. mine (ours).
the volvo was initiated into our lives the proper eaton way. probably tri-annually my dad had told the story of buying a new mercedes when elizabean was a no more than yay high, a toddler with big ol' hair. the day after he'd claimed ownership, elizabeth decided it would be a great idea to throw up all over the fresh interior right as they pulled up to the house. dad would joke, "what, you couldn't have waited 30 seconds to be taken out of your carseat?" silly as it was for dad to chastise his firstborn when she was hardly aware of her own name, let alone societal norms and proper disposal of purged materials, it was even funnier when sarah christened the volvo in the exact same way 2 days after dad bought it. i never asked it, but i do believe the volvo appreciated the warm (literally) and welcoming gesture.
the volvo boasted leather seats, a tape player, cup holders that popped out, and a glove compartment that locked, (but unlike elizabeth's diary, this lock could not be compromised). as if those scintillating features weren't enough, being a station wagon, it was equipped with room enough in the trunk to store all the gear for whatever sport cam was working at the time. my absolute favorite feature on the volvo was its illustrious sunroof, and i dreamed i would one day, if i were a very good girl, be authorized to stand up and out of it like those teenagers did on tv outside moving limousines.
for many years, the volvo was the nice car. unlike mom's white astro van, the volvo wasn't often faced with the prospect of apple juice spills, muddy playground feet, etc. although we young ones occasionally rode in dad's car, when one inspected the door handle, one wouldn't find broken crayons and used capri sun straws stuffed inside. you found...a door handle. when you sat in the back seat, you didn't hear the crunch of returned homework assignments or a coloring book or have a capless marker poke your bottom or see a sock cameron had abandoned en route to the grocery store. you sat on the leather seat. for you see, dad's volvo elicited respect, and mom's van elicited...something else. dad was assiduously steady in maintaining the volvo, taking it in for any and every check up to avoid catastrophe in those moments when you least expect trouble. even as it became older and newer models of swedish wagons roamed the roads beside us, it was still reliable, clean and estimable. as the odometer's count reached the "pig choking" range, and we would suggest a trip to our friendly neighborhood car dealer, dad would look fondly at the volvo and swear he'd never trade it for anything else. it's tank-esque body style saw safely him through two ugly car accidents, and spared him further back trouble. for this, and many other volvo bonuses, dad was grateful.
you know, the volvo and my dad have a lot in common. built for comfort, not for speed. in it for the long haul. i mean that in the very best way. "just a guy/car tryin to help." the volvo could have irretrievably kicked the bucket when it lunked out on cameron in the wendy's parking lot in 2005. it could have kissed us goodbye when cameron "strongly nudged" the car ahead of him while driving (with what certainly must have been a very tranquil, focused group of teens) to EFY in santa barbara in 2006.
before this we used to laugh about its 2 sounds. loud and louder (kinda like one of dad's sneezes). as soon as you wanted to move past 20 mph it would go from "grrrrrr" to "GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR." when cam smushed the bumper, it started leaking funky oils and smelling like the dickens, but after this and every other visit to the mechanic, the volvo softly convinced all around that its good fight was not yet finished. on a number of occasions, dad had another car picked out and waiting for him, but there was always a reason to hang on, and the volvo's loyalty was matched only by that of my father. and, as much fun as a new car could have been, we have to acknowledge there is comfort in familiarity, and the volvo, with its saggy ceiling, shredded leather seats, and non-functioning stereo system, has that in abundance.
i began to wonder what it would take to adios the volvo from our lives forever. my friends, i'll tell you. the answer lies in a smog issue, the repair of which would cost approximately four times the value of the car itself. with heavy heart i announce the farewell of THE VOLVO. saturday, september 13, the volvo will go the way of the world, to some place that is probably not heaven, for D&C makes no mention of such a place, but we trust it could never be anything like auto hell. wherever you goeth, we bid thee adieu, oh volvo, with love burning so brightly. thanks for the mem'ries.
11 September 2008
there is hope. i moved here exactly 1 month ago. i'm working, i'm moving out and over to huntington beach (knock hard on wood), i'm applying to further my education, i'm bonding, and as of tonight, i will be a surfer in training. for the first time since i was 12 years old i am going to go surfing, apparently on saturday i'm going to be in a surf video, i might go on a surf trip to costa rica in november, and i'm going to hope that the fact that my arms are completely devoid of muscular particles doesn't get in the way.
just call me "blue crush eaton." california, you and i are going to get a lot more cozy.
09 September 2008
08 September 2008
07 September 2008
one of the most stunning elements, the ones that makes you think, "wow! viva la 21st century!" is the fact that the parking lot light posts boast speakers, so that while i'm en route to tj maxx, elizabeth could be on the other end of the expansive district universe, skipping into lane bryant (kidding) and hearing the same tunes blaring from the light post speakers.
anyway, the other day i'm walking through the parking lot and they start playing the counting crows cover of joni mitchell's tree hugger tune, "big yellow taxi" and i just start laughing. if you haven't heard the song before, i'll help you out a little:
06 September 2008
i just got home after the prop 8 walk. yes, even!
05 September 2008
i'm going to knock doors and talk to the citizens of huntington beach about prop 8.
what a sensitive subject. i know this is hard for loads of people, i don't like to see people upset (especially at me), but talking about it never hurt a flea. in the end i trust our prophet, i trust marriage as the institution it's always been, and most of all i trust that the chips will not so much fall randomly as much as land very purposefully where they were omnisciently intended long ago.
people never yelled at us in costa rica (or hardly ever yelled at us) because i think it's hard to yell at girls in skirts and orthopedic shoes. i think i'll most definitely wear a skirt tomorrow. yelling is the #1 reason why i'd never join the army.
04 September 2008
03 September 2008
then, in that inexplicably omniscient way of dreams, i just knew that the next three hitters would ultimately succeed, and i would find myself stomping onto the home plate in no time. the excite-o-meter was off the charts. i was, all of a sudden, a total sports junkie, one of those "for the love of the game" people.
he offers to buy me dinner with a winning, slightly off-kilter smile, so i just peace out of the game and aerate the baseball field with my stilettos, hand in hand with ryan gosling.
we went out, and were definitely having fun, so much fun that i slept through my alarm until lindsey woke me up with fifteen minutes to get ready and leave for work.
ryan gosling: like dr. luca from ER, a forever-my-dream-love.
02 September 2008
01 September 2008
we were almost done, and then a copper pulls up behind us. he swaggers over, clearly planning on being something of a
to us helpless felines (although to be totally honest, if lindsey hadn't been there, he would have found me sitting on the gravel sobbing without my AAA services, and would have become a true officer hero). i think he was a bit disappointed to find it was almost finished, critiqued lindsey on something trivial, and then loosened some bolts for us, thereby absorbing some of the grease effect.
pretty soon we were donut-ed up and on our way to the ocean blue. i always knew this day would come, and i am pleased to say it happened when i had the crafty and wisened hands of a pal there to make the scion all better.