6th North and What?

You can say what you want, but when I first moved to Utah, I could not for the life of me understand the street layout.  10th West and 8th North?  How does that even work?!

actual map of Omaha, NE

Look up any map of Omaha.  The street lay out simply does not make sense.  There is no rhyme or reason.  Directions in Omaha usually went something like this - Take 1-80 E to 47th Street.  Turn L at the stop.  Turn right onto Ponca Hills Road, curve right at the T.  There's none of that bogus north, south, 10th, 12th nonesense.  You just have to figure out where the streets are and just memorize it.

comparative map of Logan, UT

Not only does Omaha not have a grid layout, we like to name our streets similar things.  We have names such as Ponca Drive, Ponca Circle, Ponca Street, Ponca Boulevard, Ponca Road, Ponca Country Road 40.  You get the idea.  And Ponca Road and Ponca Circle are sometimes only blocks from each other.  It doesn't make sense, but when you grow up in the area, you just get it.  You don't question it, you don't ask why it's complicated.

So for me, moving to Utah and having a simple mapping system was, well, too simple!  I could not wrap my brain around it.  It felt backwards that N/S streets should be E/W numbers and vice versa.  I remember calling my mom within days of arriving here and crying that I couldn't find my way around and that I kept getting lost.  Pathetic, really.  How something so life-changing could be so difficult is embarrassing.

Thankfully, I can now say that I've mastered the Utah grid system, and do prefer it to the nonsense of Nebraska's backroads.       

Darn Utah Drivers

I'm going to apologize in advance because I know this is going to sound especially snarky towards a Utah native.

But seriously, the drivers out here suck.  And I'm not just talking about Cache Valley; although my experiences will crosswalks have been anything but positive here (more of that later).   

I come from the Heartland.  Many people are familiar with the phrase "Midwest hospitality."  That's because being there feels like home, regardless of where you are from.  Granted, there are exceptions for every situation, but Nebraska has some of the kindest, most sincerely generous people you'll ever meet.  People who say "Bless you," when you sneeze, who open the door for you, who kindly let you into the lane of the Interstate when you realize 100 yards before your turn that you need to exit.  Moving to Utah was slightly horrific when I realized that you can drive 5 mph over the speed limit and still get passed like you're standing still.  In Nebraska, most people actually obey the laws of the land.  There is one part of the Interstate where it changes to 80 mph just outside Omaha.  You go 80, and people still go 65 around you.

What's more, instead of just flying past you on the freeway here, people are incredibly rude.  I cannot tell you how many times I have been cut off, tailgated, almost hit by idiots on phones, not been allowed into a lane, and seen people run red lights (Logan.. next three people in line at left turn signal turn after light turns red... because that's just how it is).  I'd also like to mention that I no longer use the crosswalk at 4th North and 6th East, because I have nearly been hit on several different occasions - one of them resulting in my dropping of the F-bomb in front of my husband.  After that incident, I decided it would be safer to j-walk.

What is especially annoying is the people in obnoxiously ginormous trucks that think they rule the road.  No... just because you are "compensating" with a big boy's truck doesn't mean you can run people over.

Wayward Nebraskan

I realized recently (yesterday) that I never explained how exactly I came about being transplanted to Utah, at Utah State.  It was not my first choice, mind you.  But nevertheless, I am here.

No one from my family grew up in Utah, so unlike a lot of people, it wasn't necessarily expected that I would move here for school.  My dad has been a Midwesterner his whole life, growing up just outside Council Bluffs, Iowa, where he still works at the local hospital.  My mom grew up all over, but for the most part, is from Wilmington, Delaware.  It was quite lucky that they met actually; my mom was doing her Occupational Therapy rotation in Council Bluffs and lo and behold, met my grandpa -- grandpa introduced son, son- still in missionary mode- taught my mom about the LDS church, she was baptized, THEN they started dating (didn't want to flirt to convert, of course).  The rest is history.  They've been in the Midwest since (aside from a few years while my dad was in his residency that they lived outside Philadelphia). 

My dad attended BYU.  I know there is still a small (large) part of him that wishes I would have gone to his beloved college.  Not that I really have anything against BYU personally, but I just never intended on going there.  I'm actually the first Bendorf (maiden name) to not attend BYU.  All my aunts and uncles on my dad's side attended there, and my three older cousins went to church schools (BYU, BYU-I).  I'm just the rebellious type, I guess.

While I love my religion, I grew up in Nebraska.  The ratio of Mormons to non-Mormons is slightly different there than it is here.  I knew that throwing myself into one of the church's schools would be a little overwhelming.  I still hadn't decided that I even wanted to addend a Utah school when I met my husband.  He was a missionary in our ward, and growing up in church boundaries that mainly included the ghetto of Omaha, our ward was very small (approximately 30 active members).  Our family always got to know the missionaries well because we always had them over for dinner (always meaning 2-3 times a week on average).  Needless to say, my family was very close to my husband as a missionary, and when he went home, we kept in touch.  You can guess the rest.  And almost 4 years later, I'm out here with him.  Good thing I decided attending a Utah school wouldn't be the end of the world... 

Autumn has Arrived

After the whole post about humidity, I sort of got stuck on a weather theme.  With the "official" start of fall within a weeks time, I figured it was safe to talk about this glorious time of year.

While Utah and Nebraska have many differences, their fall seasons happen to very similar.  The Nebraska fall season is slightly unique in that it doesn't get down into the forties at night yet.  This allows for outdoor evening activities without the need for winter coats.

On the other hand, Utah's ability to get freakishly cold at night before October ever even starts allows for brisk, beautiful mornings on my bike.  I do not like the heat - at all - and would much rather bike to school in forty-degree weather than 

fall in Logan, Utah -- overlooking the valley

ninety.  That being said, it's also annoying that you have to use the AC and the heater in the same day (though we are thankful enough to live in a house that hasn't required us to turn on the heater on quite yet).  And yes, that picture shows two temperatures from the same day.  How Utah manages to jump over 40 degrees in a 6-hour time period is beyond me.

fall in Omaha, Nebraska -- downtown

While the two states have positives and negatives regarding the temperature differences in fall, they do share one factor: the color changes are amazing.  Where my parents reside is encompassed by trees.  The whole road leading to our neighborhood is tree-lined, and our house overlooked the downtown city, surrounded by hills and miles of trees.  The beginning of October is the best time to enjoy the changing leaves across the hillside.  Utah is amazing in that the colors on the mountains change, making the whole valley colorful.   

So what's the verdict?  Utah and Nebraska definitely have their differences, but when it comes down to it, autumn in either place is perfect.  

Holy Humidity!

People have their ideas about what Nebraska is all about.  They usually just imagine corn, and cows, and a barren wasteland.  What a lot of people don't realize is that Nebraska has varying degrees of humidity; Omaha being one of the worst.     

I never really realized HOW humid Nebraska can be until I moved to Utah.  On my wedding day, in August mind you, it was 98° with approximately 95% humidity.  That makes the heat index around 110.  With my hundred-pound dress it was really hard not to pass out, especially since our reception was outdoors and involved two hours worth of dancing.   

In case people weren't already aware of this, Utah is a very dry place.  Family members who live here and travel back to the Midwest always complain about the humidity.  I just always thought they were babies.

Now, with living here for over two years, my tolerance for humidity has almost completely vanished.  While visiting my family in the Midwest in June, I was completely overwhelmed by the saturated air that I grew up in for most of my life.  For those who have never been outside Utah and have never experienced humidity, let me elaborate:   

It basically feels like you're suffocating.  The air is so thick you could swim through it.  It's so hot your clothes stick to you from the second you walk outside.  

While I constantly complain about Utah and it's varying offenses (most of which aren't actually true), I do love the lack of humidity it so willingly offers.

Growing Up Husker

When I first decided my blog should be named "This Baby Don't Bleed Blue," I was referring to what most people think of when they picture Utah: BYU.  BYU's colors, as we know, are blue and white. This being said, I realized that Utah State is also blue.  For the sake of this blog, assume anytime that I refer to 'not bleeding blue' that I am talking about BYU, and it's obvious connection to Utah.  Whether you are from the Midwest, or from Utah itself, anytime the state is mentioned, people automatically associate it with Brigham Young University, the same way Husker football is connected to Nebraska.  Therefore, since I am a homegrown Husker, I do not bleed 'Utah blue.'

Now that we have that all explained, let me give you a brief overview of my life growing up in the Midwest.

I was born in Omaha, Nebraska and moved to Wilmington, Delaware at the age of 6 months.  After spending 5 years there, my family again migrated back west, but to Council Bluffs, Iowa (just to the east of the Missouri river and Nebraska/Iowa border).  We lived in Iowa until I was 12 years old, before my parents bought a house closer to our riding barn in Ponca Hills, the outskirts of Omaha (though technically our address was still Omaha).  My home had three things directly associated with it: trees, grass, and horses.  While most people image Nebraska being a very flat, obnoxiously boring place, we were blessed to abolish the stereotype and live on a hill.  With no corn anywhere in site.  To be perfectly honest, west of Lincoln is a very flat, obnoxiously boring place.  With lots of corn.  And beans.  I understand, and will admit it's not the most exciting of places.  But Omaha has it's own unique terrain, allowing us to be surrounded by trees, luscious green grass, and two horse barns.   

Aside from Nebraska being envisioned as a flat, dead land, it also has another feature connected to it: Husker football.  To live in Nebraska is to be a Husker.  You're not a Husker, you're not a true Nebraskan.  I come from a long-line of proud fans, and it was just expected to become one.  Which is easy after you realize we have the best fans ever.  Seriously.  The way football games are able to pull a community together is amazing.

And THAT is why I bleed Husker RED, not Utah blue.