The Cliffs of Insanity

Last Friday was a holiday. Bless it ever.

I'd just finished popping Costco samples into my mouth when I received a text from Jeff offering 2 recreational options for the day. One of these was cliff jumping with some wardies.

Now, I am no daredevil, and I came to terms LONG AGO with my criminal lack of hand-eye coordination. I don't really know why I thought this would be a good idea, but even as those samples were breaking down in my stomach I was strapping on my handy swim suit and meeting up at the Villa with the rest of my compatriots.

I will spare the internet the details about how we got to this little jumping spot, but after we hit the sand we climbed a bunch of this and that and I almost ate it 43 times and needed help from muscley arms every step of the way, and then Brandon Brown started telling stories of the last time when he almost died and there was high tide and I thought to myself, "WHY do I get myself into these situATIONS?!" and then when we got around the "mountain" wall, we arrived at the glorious spot of shore right across from something like this:

Awesome. So after much hemming and hawing and some more muscley help and swallowing far too much ocean water and getting a wee scrape up my wee shin and climbing up the mountain wall and thinking every 8.2 seconds, "I'm going to die, and I'm going to die in my BATHING SUIT!", it was my turn to jump so I remembered the lesson I learned when I got bamboozled into going sky diving and bungee jumping: "Just jump before you have a chance to think about it." Somewhere in all that I decided that this was the best thing I could have done that day. It was so much fun.

The end.

So rude.

This morning within 5 minutes of getting to work a customer came in to yell at me. I think she decided to do it on Saturday afternoon and planned for the next day and a half for Monday morning, because she had some good lines in there that could not have been conjured spur-of-the-moment. Brevity was not in her cards. It was of no importance that the error she accused me of was not mine, didn't even exist, or that it didn't even have any impact on her life. She just wanted someone to chuck all her firey anger at, and she picked me. She even brought a friend who sat there with a smirk. It distantly reminded me of when they'd bring a companion to the public hanging of an innocently charged (and probably very kind and dutiful) prisoner. "Hey I hear someone's about to be totally unjustly ended! Can I come watch???!!" "Certainly! Nothing I'd rather do on my Monday morning than enjoy it with you!" After she had her fill trying to squash me, she seemed very happy with herself and left her contact information and barked at me to call her when I had drawn up a letter confirming that the non-existent explosion had in fact, done no damage to her credit. It was kind of fun to do this, for in the writing of the letter I ever so slyly proved that there had been no mistake in the first place, and that she never stood to lose anything. I feel I've edited enough of Jeff's thises and thats to know how to use legal jargon to make it sound very intimidating and high-falooting. Despite the healing qualities of that letter I still felt a smidge deflated and vengeful, but knowing these emotions would come to nothing, I thought to better days...days like the ones that made up this weekend. Please don't expect grammatical structure in the blogging that follows...................


Friday:

• Worked and got off early. Awesome. I loathe the time in between putting in notice and actually returning the proverbial vault keys. It's awkward, it passes slowly, it is bleh. Getting off early was just the ticket.
• Went to my parents' and made some cookies.
• Watched a movie with the bereft-of-fiance Sarah, or at least part of a movie. She fell asleep rather quickly.
• Ended the night with a meaty chat in a room filled with Jeff H., Michelle H., Peter B., and James A.
• Returned to apartment and ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
  

Saturday:

• First Saturday off in months.
• Went to brunch (how much fun is it to say that word?!) at a cozy little Galley and pretended to be a Newpsie.
• Toodled around town with Michelle H. and was sufficiently dazzled by her company, and sufficiently heartsick over the unattainable snazziness of the items we browsed in Anthropologie.
• Went to run a couple of errands too boring to inflict upon anyone.
• Went to Hollywood with the two Hayes and was thrilled by the fact that Debbie Reynolds was wearing heels when she left her mark in the cement at Grauman's Chinese Theater.
• Wondered why I've let so much time slip by in between viewings of the best movie of all time. See Exhibit A.

Exhibit A

• Returned home at 1am with a cookie and ice cream in my stomach.
• Ice cream had been Peanut Butter; there had been no restraint.
• Fell asleep so fast I didn't even notice or care that my apartment was a mad house.
• ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Sunday:

• Ward Counciling. Didn't even mind it. People in ward are funny.
• Consumed copious amounts of cookies on the 7 minute drive home.
• Left remaining cookies in car in between Ward Council and church, thereby allowing the excessively allotted chocolate in cookies to melt in ripening summer weather and ruining possibilities of eating cookies in church. Feel like a bad person for not supplying treats.
• Enjoy church. Good meetings. Missed it a lot working so many Sundays at bank. Wished US Bank wasn't so keen on keeping some branches open 7 days a week.
• Went home from church. Talked to mom. Mom knows everything and is the wisest woman of any I ever knew.
• Ate a DELICIOUS dinner cooked by one Michelle H.
• Went on walk on beach. Felt spoiled to live 1 mile away from the water. Wished Annie Garlock was living closer to water too.
• Received text messages from my brother-in-law on walk. Seems he enjoys his Palm Pre. If you're wondering what that is, talk to him. He'll tell you.
• Ate Fudgsicle.
• Watched Kobe mumble about winning and how cool it is.
• Was perplexed at why the NBA people seemed so determined to extract from the adrenaline flooded professional athletes an answer to the question, "Why is this 4th victory so different?!?!?!" Thought it's probably not that different. They sought victory because it is their job and the obtained it. Just means 5 houses in the Hamptons instead of 3.
• Went to Irvine to watch Ghost Town with Mom and Sarah. Decided a Ricky Gervais movie on a Sunday night with 2 of the most astounding women the world has ever known is a delight more people should know, but I have them to myself -- HAHA!
• ZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

My weekend in summation. I like my life a whole lot.

Deco 411

I remember when my mom and I met Sarah in our London hotel, she was a little deflated. The place wasn't as bright and shiny as it had been 6 years earlier when she and Elizabeth were guests, and she wondered out loud if we should change to another hotel. "NO," said I. Not only did I not want to lug my wheel-deficient duffel bag (what was I thinking?!) one inch further, but it was a hotel we would only need for sleeping. I didn't plan on wasting one waking second of our Euro time in our boarding locale, be it a hostile or Gwyneth's.

So has been my life in Huntington. I haven't spent much time at home. Even when I was unemployed, I would sleep in and then go window shopping (glutton for punishment?) or bake cookies at my parents' house to keep from going crazy. My apartments in college and in Vegas were never decorated much because I suppose I didn't plan on staying that long, and didn't want to spend the money. Kapeesh?

After 1 month in Irvine at my beauteous parents', I'm at large in HB once again. I don't know what it is about this apartment, but I feel like I've got to at least make it something of my own. I went to TJ Maxx today in search of a wall hanging. What a disaster. I am nothing if not a yo-yo buyer, and it's the retail world's own fault for creating such generous return policies at every turn. I found a couple of things I might like but I couldn't picture liking them for the long-ish haul. I finally decided on something, waited in line about 3 years to pay for it, realized the price tag had fallen off it and it was the last one in the store, and I was already starting to hate it so I said, "Oh, that's ok, I think I'll just pass on it for now," and skeedaddled.

I went to Target and bought an awesome clock I've been eyeing for a few months. It's huge. And if I hate the way it looks in 2 weeks, I can't get rid of it because it's functional. I have this weird thing with clocks ever since I saw the movie Walk the Line. Yeah, this is totally mortifying what I'm about to say but at least I'm not saying it from the pulpit on the first Sunday of the month: You know that scene when Johnny Cash is trying to get his first record deal in that tiny studio? The producer isn't buying it and he cuts them off early. When Cash argues he didn't let them "bring it home," the producer just cuts in with,

"If you was hit by a truck and you was lying out there in that gutter dying, and you had time to sing one song. Huh? One song that people would remember before you're dirt. One song that would let God know how you felt about your time here on Earth. One song that would sum you up. You tellin' me that's the song you'd sing?"

Anyway, that was a good part of that movie. It beckoned us to the land of self-reflection. Yeah, I know, I know, lame.

Anyway, I bought a clock because I'm taking decorative baby steps.

Why do I blog again?

Surprise!!! Jeff Hayes' 2nd 29th Bday!

That's what the secret Facebook invitation said. It's really fun to be the hostess of a party when everyone loves the guest of honor.  You say the word and people come and come running.

A boy and his cake.

A glazed smile.

A snog.

Mike Cunningham is the sort of photographer that makes you love your life even more.

He makes Tax Accounting look good.

Shmoozing.

Giggling.

Inebriating.  Bah ha, Drinking Anti-oxidant Cherry 7-Up (you think I'm kidding that time, but I'm not.  7-Up cares about your Vitamin E intake).

Martha Martha.  How do I love thee?

James James James.
I think this might be one of my favorite pictures.  I love Emily Hatch for so many reasons, but one of the toppers is her laugh.  You can hear it a mile away, and it's quite infectious.  True story.

I have more pictures.  Or, rather, Mike took more pictures.  Next post.  Or, if you're on Facebook you can stalk ALL 60 pictures snapped at the party.

Tire Karma

I just got 4 new tires a few months ago. It was on the night of the first Presidential Debate, and I was watching it in the "waiting sector" of the tire shop when lo and behold, the dude working behind the counter realized his favorite, most inspirational show The Family Guy was on (barf and insipidness), so he changed the channel. When he left the room I snuck behind the counter, found the remote control, and changed it back to the debate. He looked a little confused when he came back into the room, but anyway, I'll be paying him another visit this very day, because my back left tire made an evil alliance with a nail, and I've got to ask Mr. Warranty to make good on his reason for being.

But first the epic and heroic tale of the Sabbath Tire Scandal!  I discovered the tire tragedy when I left Sunday Services.  Accolades fly with unprecedented velocity in the direction of homeboy Jeff, who came all the way back to church to put on my spare for me.

He's working away...

The other dudes drifted over, wanting a piece of the action, grunting, and showing their manliness and automotive expertise (at first I felt embarrassed that they seemed all concerned but then I remembered that the Y chromosome makes unavoidably THRIVE off this stuff. Flex the muscles, be a part of the action, they wouldn't miss it for a Miley Cyrus concert or a Bromance episode.  Moths to a flame.

Mike Cunningham took it upon himself to be the foreman of the project, barking out useless orders at rapid fire speed, and handing out his Tax Attorney business card to anyone who wanted (or was willing) to marvel at it.

Now the job is done, I'm off in a minute to catch up on my soaps at the Tire Shop (traveling 30mph with the donut), and don't worry, I was sure to give homeboy a few of these for his services:

boo.

a few slices of my halloween: lindsey sommer. i know this girl from byu and have run into her in the most odd places ever since. i guess a laguna niguel halloween party isn't exactly odd, but when she lives in vegas and i in huntington, it's not exactly expected, right? she is the cat's pajamas so i'm happy for the frequent sightings and subsequent chats. i can expect her to come along when i gold digger marry some billionaire from monaco and i'm a lonely yankee with 5 unruly, freckled children. she'll probably haul off and move into my ward there, too, and it'll be swell. you know, i just realized this post is going to be kind of weird, but don't judge me, lest ye be judged. i lost a lot of sleep on election night only to realize that prop 8 was going to be 53% to 47% for hours upon hours to come. i haven't caught up on my snoozes yet. as suzi orman would say, MOVING. ON.a hippie and a french guy. the hippie should have worn a headband or something to make it more obvious. my mom made this dress when she was in high school. check out in the picture with lindsey those large flowers painstakingly embroidered about the front. my mom calls the dress "the ultimate statement of my youth." it's the official name of the thing. it's been recycled between my sisters and i for about 15 halloweens, maybe 7 high school time warp pep rallies, 34 time warp themed parties, etc. each time we use it mom will say, almost verbatum, "if someone had told me while i sat making this while babysitting the [insert name of palo alto family] that i'd one day have 3 beautiful daughters who would use this dress for [insert name of occasion], i'd never have believed them." whether that seemed so far fetched because she planned to only have sons, or she just imagined any daughters she'd have would be too obese to ever fit into it, i'll never know. but i do know i love having the good old standby costume.

and jeff's baguette was delicious.

and the ciggie is fake. smoking's for morons. i learned that in D.A.R.E.!

weird, right? they're not even related, not by one single slip of a DNA strand. lacey (to the right of the giant banana man) is quite possibly the kindest person you'll ever meet, and has great style. i met melissa in 2003. we'd carpool to the BYU salt lake center together every thursdee afternoon, and we had a great time. then we lost track of each other, and then about a year ago we got reconnected and had been facebook/blogger friends until i moved back and saw her at a goodbye party a few weeks ago. there was a tackle, there was a ruckus, everyone was looking at us like, "wow. those gals are really making a big deal about this. they should get out more, yo."

and i loved this picture just too, too much to leave it out:

mike: did you know pocahontas was a celebrity in london in her last year of life, before contracting an unknown fatal illness? if i'd been in london in 1617, i'd have used my video game super hero powers to save you from such a tragic end."
emily: [speechless, moved to dazzled tears]

irvinites unite

i know what you're all thinking.

-brad, you sly dog, how did you weasle your way into the middle of a picture with 4 bodacious babes?
-martha, did you get your hair did recently? it looks even more fantastic than usual.
-2 lillywhites?! 2??? merzy, we all knew your life was beyond charmed, but 2 lillywhites in one block of sunday meetings is pushing your luck a little bit too far. please tell me they were photoshopped in, or you are officially the most fortunate lass this side of the hudson. there will be nowhere for you to go but down.
-wait a minute...that looks very much like an LDS chapel...is is kosher to snap photos in a chapel?

what we've got here is proof that the pierside ward was the best place for me to go upon returning to orange county. an abundance of new people, new streets to get lost on until they're burned on my brain, yogurtland, and one of those new targets, and yet, somethings (or people) to remind me from where i've sprung. people that know well the sleepy town approximately 25 minutes south of our huntington abodes. IRVINITES. our common bond of growing up drowning ourselves in golden spoon, getting our flirt on at the "woodsy" youth conference locales, and getting our stake dance on at the red brick lake building...ah this common bond shines through clearer and brighter than ever in our twenty-something huntington lives.

once an irvinite, always an irvinite.

thanks to jeff brown for sacrificing decorum and honor in snapping this picture in the chapel.

a smattering of things:

- i moved into my new crib o' crib 2 nights ago, and all's well in my little sphere of zion. parking is a total fiasco, there was the distinct odor of regurgitated food particles in the courtyard last night, but hey! it's home! someone should write a country song about it. my apartment is 1 mile from the beach, which i have yet to exploit, my roommates are terrific, and it must be meant to be, because they shower at night, i shower in the morning. and they have their surfboards hanging in the family room, and there are about 40 of them, so it gives the impression that at least one of them has got to be mine, and i'm totally hard core.

- my little brother turned 20 on tuesday. he's been gone on his mission for over 4 months now, and up until recently i've been very proud of him and kept the separation anxiety to a minimum. i think i was just riding high on the wave of relief that he wanted to go of his own fruition. now i'm taking all that mature selflessness and shoving it out the window into the smelly courtyard. who cares if it's his duty? what about ME?! 20 months? 20 months? he's got 20 months left on his mission. father time will not be rushed, and i really would just love to sit and have a chat with my big little brother. now i'm turning all soft and fragile, but ladies and gents, my brother is one of those things in life that are seemingly too good to be true, but cameron is, in fact, "a truth" (in paula abdul terms). when he was 2 he'd come wake me up onsaturday mornings and would be so squishy and snuggly, and elizabean and i would each hold a hand and walk him downstairs, fill up his bottle with some m-i-l-k and wrap him in a blanket like the burrito he would one day scarf in record time, sarah would trail behind, and we'd sink into saturday morning cartoons. his "good egg" factor has been loud and clear from the very first.

now i've gone all soft. i need to regroup.

- last night i made some prop 8 calls. my two favorites:

me: hi, my name's meredith, and i'm calling tonight in support of proposition 8; are you familiar with this proposition?
him: no, but i just watched sarah palin kick joe biden's a_ _!!

that one ended with a very enthusiastic plan to vote Y on 8.

next one...

me: hi, my name's meredith, and i'm calling tonight in support of proposition 8; are you familiar with this proposition?
him: no. (latino accent)
me: well, prop 8, if passed, will preserve the definition of marriage as being between a man and a woman.
him: yeah, but they're all getting married anyway!
me: well, those marriages won't be legalized unless prop 8 doesn't go through. the supreme court doesn't have the final say on it. are you registered to vote?
him: yeah, but i don't vote for nobody.
me: why not?
him: because they're all LIARS!
me: well i don't know about that, but--
him: and my vote doesn't count anyway, with all that electoral basura
*please note: this is the moment when i'm not confident in my political savvy to object to this, so i say,
me: one second.... [i mute it, and yell into the house where there are scattered 1 lawyer, 2 accountants, and an operational engineer...i was pretty sure one of them would be able to answer my question, "IS THIS ELECTORAL OR MAJORITY?" i hear about 3.4 yells back, "MAJORITY!" yes, now in hindsight i realize that was maybe a dumb question, but as denise kaa used to say in high school, "whatevs with THAT sitch!"

in the end, mr. latino said he would go and vote.

lindsey said it best.

from september: first attempt at surfing since a freckled brace face 12 year old at girl's camp.  click here to share the moment.