Meet New Friends, Keep the Old. One is Silver, the Other is Gold.

I wrote a post on Facebook today about how it's sad that I don't even talk to a couple of girls who were my bridesmaids just over 2 years ago.  These were girls I'd gone to high school with.  They were sisters to me.  But getting married and moving away changes everything.

I've met some pretty great people since living in Utah, don't get me wrong.  It's just sometimes difficult to see your single friends through Facebook and wishing you could still be with them, being immature and crazy.  I thought for the longest time that I would be friendless when I moved to Utah.  Sure, I have my husband, but he doesn't fill that "girlfriend" role- the girls you can tell everything to and get advice from and cuss at and know they'll still love you the next day.  That's how my friends from high school were.  But I knew they wouldn't be coming with me to Utah.  They'd be staying in the Midwest, a thousand miles away.  I knew I'd only see them a couple times a year.  I know they wouldn't necessary understand what I'm going through, since I'm in a different stage of life now with being married.  But I never thought we'd lose touch.

I'm happy to say I'm not friendless here, though.  I have some of the most amazing coworkers anyone could ask for.  For a while, I couldn't decide whether my team lead, Mandy, hated me or liked me.  She's sarcastic, bitter, and hilarious.  Turns out, she didn't think I was too bad either.  Being 32, she's the older sister I always wanted and never had.  She has more life experience and more opinions, therefore helping me out with my dilemmas.  We spend at least half of the work day goofing around and talking about everything from sex, to in-laws, to diets, to candy corn.  She's the most level-headed, no-BS person I've ever met and I love her for it.  She's taught me more than any parents or teacher ever could.  She's taught me that there's no point in taking life seriously.  Have fun.  Be loud.  Love and be loved.  And no matter what, never change who you are.  

Man's Best Friend

I've always been a winter person.  I absolutely hate the summer heat.  This was probably because I grew up in Nebraska which is ridiculously humid.  I don't know if it's some health thing, but I have hot flashes constantly.  I'll be fine one minute, and the next I'm sweating profusely and need to stand outside.

When I do have the occasional cold moment, I have the best toe-warmer around: my 105-lb mutt, Sophie.  She's the fluffiest, squishiest dog ever and the perfect personal heater.  I was lucky enough to grow up with dogs my entire life.  My parents had  Shepherd until I was a couple years, then we had a Bichon Frise, a Golden Retriever, another Bichon, a Beagle, and then my baby girl, and most recently another Shepherd.  She's definitely the biggest one I've had though.  I was lucky to marry someone who also grew up with dogs, so having one was just normal. 

Having her with us has been the best thing ever.  I was so depressed my first year away from home.  I didn't have anything.  My landlord had decided last minute to not let me bring Sophie.  When we moved from there and finally got her back with us, everything changed.  Sounds crazy, but she's been my best friend.  She's always there, always so happy when you're home, never argues, never makes me feel stupid. I believe all dogs have the effect.  And that's why I'll always have them.  

Norf 'O, Yo!

While working on my Criminology paper, I remembered some other weird difference between Nebraska and Utah.  Sort of depressing, really, so I'm not entirely sure why I want to blog about it.  But I'm desperate.  It's dead week and my brain is fried.

I grew up just north of North Omaha.  If you don't know anything about that area, google it.  Basically, it's the only ghetto in Omaha that's worth mentioning.  Enough so that you don't really want to be by yourself after 10:00 past 30th and Ames.  I made the mistake once of going to the Walgreens on 30th and Martin at 11:00 on a Friday night.  Granted, this is several miles north of the worst part still, but it gave me enough heebee-jeebees to convince me to not go back.  Nothing happened, I wasn't threatened or anything.  It's just a sketchy atmosphere.  My mom nearly had a heart attack when I told her I'd been down there so late.  It might have had to do something with the fact that I was driving her Escalade too....

I don't think Logan has a ghetto - at least not a ghetto where there is at least one shooting every single night.  Not even kidding.  I guarantee there'll be one, if not several.  My first experience with that area came when we were dropping my elementary school friend off at home one night.  As we crossed through one particular neighborhood, she instructed us to "get down so we don't get shot."  Again, I think my mother nearly had a heart attack.  But, I've never had a bad experience down there.  So I shouldn't be too judgmental. 

Worry-Wort

I keep thinking today is Tuesday, because it doesn't feel like there should only be one day left in the week before finals.  Let the stress begin.

I already started freaking out a little over a week ago.  If fact, I even started developing little bumps all over my face from what I can only guess is from stress.  On top of that, I don't sleep soundly at night, it's hard to fall asleep, but yet I'm exhausted and it's hard to get up.  It also doesn't help that for the last three nights in a row, my dog has been getting me up at exactly 4:30am to go potty.

I don't know why I do it to myself.  I always get all worked up about having to write a paper, but then I just sit down and do it and it's fine and I'm fine and everything's just fine.  I've become a worry-wort in my old age I suppose.  I'm already counting down the days until I get to see my family again - 15!

Cravings

Earlier, I was craving my favorite food from my favorite restaurant: fettuccine alfredo from Spaghetti Works. I'm not sure how I was even first introduced to the restaurant, but for as long as I can remember, it's been my favorite place to eat.  It's not just the food either.  The whole place is decorated in totally random decor. There's cars from the '20s that serve as the salad bars, there's Christmas lights year-round, a 5-foot tall Buddha statue, and advertising signs from just about every company you can imagine.  The lighting is low, the walls are dark, and it's just perfect for an evening out.  

On top of that, the one we go to is located in Omaha's Downtown Old Market.  It's this adorable little part of the city with brick streets, carriage rides, and shops for everything you can think of.  Kind of like a mini, old-fashioned New York City. Also, the food is fantastic and relatively cheap.  I have gone there every year for my birthday for as long as I can remember.  

The only problem?  There's no Spaghetti Works in Utah.  There's a couple restaurants that are in Nebraska but not Utah, but the 'Works is the only place I really miss.

Thankfully, my birthday is in a few weeks, and that's where I'll be spending yet another birthday dinner.

Special Statistics

Heard some interesting statistics a week or so ago.  I guess they did some sort of test and found out that Utah has the lowest percent of people with STDs (though I don't think this surprised anyone).  There was also another test that revealed Utah has the lowest percent of underage drinkers - also not a surprise.  I'm not sure if this helps or hurts the reputation of the state.  Most Utahans, I'm sure, are proud of this.  Considering most of the population is LDS, it seems appropriate they wouldn't have a lot of diseases or drunkards.  On some level, it gives them bragging rights that they have such low statistics.  What great kids they've raised.  For other people, it gives them more rights to make fun of the state.  Anyone outside Utah has a very unique perspective of what actually goes on 'round these parts.  Unless someone has lived here, it's pretty apparent most think it's a crazy place full of weird cults.  So, to announce they have the least amount of not sexually-active and non-drinking teens just adds to the "weirdness."  Because honestly, everywhere else in the nation has plenty of it (except maybe Idaho too).

Omaha, for example, has the highest percent of STDs per capita in the nation.

We are super special there.

Creativeless.

Realized I have to have 11 more posts for my blog before the semester is over (technically tomorrow for this class).  So I have to come up with a bunch of random, useless, boring topics to write about.

I did it.  I went out and bought my mat last night.  It ended up being only $8 instead of $10, so I took those few extra bucks and bought some 2 lb ankle weights as well.  Decided to go all out and wear the ankle weights for 40 minutes worth of dancing to the Kinect and 20 'attempted' minutes of Pilates.  I did about 3 elevated leg crosses with my weights on before I fell over in pain.  My hubby suggested I start out a little easier.  I have a tendency to go full-force right away when I want something.  My back is not appreciative of that this morning, though otherwise, I'm fine and surprisingly not sore; I'm sure now I will be.

I can't believe everything I have due tomorrow for my English classes... yikes.  1000-word reflective essay for my Poetry class, plus a compilation of 5-7 poems, and a cover letter (though that will be easy since I already did it).  Then, I have 15 pages of non-fiction essays to get together, plus an essay I'm submitting to the radio (all of which still need edits done).

I think I need a nap.

Being a Bendorf

Having to deal with the fact that you're the "biggest" one in your family sucks.  And when I say biggest, I don't mean I'm morbidly obese and everyone else is a buck-ten.  I've just always struggled the most with my build.  Referring back to my previous post, I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never be as small as my mom or sister.  I was "blessed" with the Bendorf genes: small boobs; big butt; large, muscular thighs and calves; and broad shoulders.  Basically, I look like a man.  But then again, so do most of my aunts from the Bendorf side.  They say it's a good thing.  I haven't accepted that.

My sister got the Boardman genes, from my mom's side.  She has no butt (my mom and her always call them 'boy butts,' though I'm pretty sure my own husband has more butt than them), petite builds, and gorgeous, slim legs.  My mom, at the ripe age of 45, still has the best legs of any middle-aged woman I've ever met.  I suppose part of my sister's advantage relates to the fact that she's a cross-country runner; averages about 6+ miles a run.  I have no desire to run, ever, so I guess I can't be too upset with that.  My mom on the other hand, just has great legs because God loved her most.

Then there's my dad.  Before he had a double-hip replacement, he was an exercise king.  Aside from the fact that he's rapidly losing his hair, he does not look like most other 47-year-olds.  He'd run, bike, and/or swim every day.  He wasn't a health freak, but always ate well.  He hasn't been able to exercise as much since his surgeries (especially running- that's a major no-no) but he's working back in to biking and exercising.  He's gained 15 pounds and whines all the time about it.  If he hadn't told me, I'd never have known.

My brother is 13. He's barely started to hit puberty and is a walking stick.  He's got the skinniest little chicken legs and arms.  He's still hoping to fill out with football and weightlifting.  I'm convinced he got the Boardman genes and will be yet again a small sibling.

So when I go back home, it sorta sucks.  Everyone else is small(er).  What about my hubby?  Well, he weighs the same as me and he's 8 inches taller.  Think preying mantis.  He has the most ridiculous metabolism you've ever seen. After not running for an entire year, he went to the beach and ran 5 miles with my sister over the summer.  Yeah.  I always feel self-conscious going back to see them.  Do I look bigger to them?  Have my thighs fattened up?  I know they'd never say anything, but I worry about what they whisper to each other at night when I'm not around.  That's why this year, I'm going to finally be smaller like them.

Kick into Gear

I finally decided I want to look better, and I'm willing to work for it.  Not only for when I look in the mirror, but for my husband and in my clothes.  I want to be more comfortable with my body, something I've struggled with since middle school.  

I have an athletic build.  The ultrasound tech actually made the comment that I had such muscly legs while in my mother's womb.  So, I know I'm never going to have tiny legs or a tiny butt.  But actually, I'm okay with that.  I don't want to look like a supermodel.  They're too skinny.  Instead, I just want to be healthy and in great shape.

I've worked out before; this isn't some mind-blowing experiment.  I have these "kicks" that last about 3 weeks.  When I don't see dramatic changes in that amount of time, I quit.  I just don't have the gumption to keep at it.  I don't have the patience.  I want results NOW.  That's why I'm hoping posting my plan online will encourage me.  Granted, I don't think anyone reads my blog, so they're not going to know, but I'll know.  I'll know I put it out there and I don't want to wimp out and have to admit to everyone that I'm a quitter. 

Most people start their dieting after Christmas- the whole "New Year's Resolution" that actually only lasts until Valentine's Day.  My plan is to get a head start so that I won't be tasked with trying to shed an additional 5+ pounds after the holidays.  My schedule is going to include doing Kinect (cardio) and then doing Pilates- which is what I had started, and quit, after 3 weeks.  Truth be known, there was a difference.  It was very minute and not enough to convince me to keep going, but I saw it.  And I want it back - more of it.  

So, in addition to studying for finals, preparing for our trip back home, and working until 5 almost every night, I'm going to go to Ross, buy a $10 yoga mat, and start kicking my own butt.  

Tree Traditions

Since my husband sort of had a strange childhood, I've had to introduce him to some traditions my family has for the Christmas season.  One of the greatest things ever was putting up the Christmas tree.  The living room in my parents' house has a 2nd story ceiling, so they decided to get a pre-lit tree to go in there instead of trying to buy a 20-foot tree every year.  Every December, we'd take out the tree in pieces and "fluff" the branches while Dad hooked it all together.  Then, we'd crank up the surround-sound speakers in the room and dance to Christmas music (usually to Mannheim Steamroller) while putting up the ornaments.  And this is just the living room tree.  Because it's the biggest, and takes the most time to decorate, it's become the one we traditionally rock out to on some December night when we're all home.  That particular tree is the "Nutcracker" tree.  

My mom was a ballerina (almost became professional) and my sister and I both danced until we were about 10.  We were in the Omaha Ballet Company's rendition of the Nutcracker several years.  Because of that, we collected tons of Nutcracker ornaments, everything from the Nutcracker/Prince himself, to the Mouse King, Sugar Plum Fairy, and Clara.  Mom always got the character we played.  Ballet had so many wonderful memories for us, and it was always my mom's intent to keep those memories around with special ornaments for the tree.  The tree also has beautiful, intricately painted glass balls, snowflakes, and various shapes of candy (also referring to Nutcracker).  

When my husband and I didn't get a Christmas tree our first year we were married, I was devastated   He made a decent point; that we wouldn't even be in town for Christmas so why have it when we couldn't really even enjoy it.  Nevertheless, after getting to Nebraska and joining in the tree-decorating festivities with my family, I was bound and determined to have a tree the rest of our Christmases together.  So, last year, we got one from the school for about $15.  It looked like a Charlie Brown Christmas tree, but it was ours, and we got to decorate it together, and it was marvelous. My husband still thought it was unnecessary, but I insisted, and he obliged.  I still have yet to convince him to join me in going to see the Nutcracker ballet here in Logan, but we'll get there :)

I hope to make this our own Christmas tradition with our future little family, since it was something I loved so much growing up.  I want my kids to have a big tree one day, to jam out to "Deck the Halls," and to enjoy the time we have goofing off.  Something about just being together during the holiday is the greatest blessing of all.  

Works of Art

I sent in my first literary submission over the weekend.  It was required for my poetry class.  To say it was terrifying is an understatement.  I don't handle rejection well, which I need to get over if I have any chance of making it in the publishing world.  I know the first publisher isn't likely to be my last.  And it's hard when people outside my immediate family criticize my work.  Even opinions of extended family make me upset when they tell me something is wrong with my writing.  I sent part of a manuscript for the novel I'm working on to my cousin.  She emailed me back and said it was great, but there were some things she noticed.  Automatically, I put up my defensive wall.  I honestly can only handle criticism from a professor or my dad.  Professors, because that's their job, and my dad, because he's been my biggest fan since day one.  He's read every short story, every poem, every essay, every random piece of writing I've done.  And when he criticizes me, it doesn't feel as much a blow at my ego but rather just a helpful suggestion that I readily take with gratitude.  Maybe it's also because I feel he's the only one qualified enough to make any suggestions :)

Writing is difficult, and what's even more so is trying to make a living off of it.  You can spend years on a piece and have it never even get published.  It's not a guaranteed paycheck at the end of the month.  But honestly, it's worth it to me.  I wouldn't want to do anything else.  Writing has been my passion for years, and I could never give it up just because I might not get where I want to be.  For me personally, knowing I tried my hardest and did everything I could, and that I ultimately FINISHED is what is the best reward.

Sad Weekend for Big Red

After yesterday's game, it's a little difficult to admit you're a Husker fan.  I'd never be embarrassed to admit I was from Nebraska, but being a football fan this weekend is a different story.

Receiver Kenny Bell, looking
just as confused as the rest
of us that sad day.

The first time the Huskers played Wisconsin, they won 30-27, after trailing by 17 points.  What a come back!  They've been nicknamed the "Heart Attack Huskers" this season, as they're always trailing when the first half ends, then somehow, they come back in the second. 

It was a slightly different story this weekend, when they played Wisconsin again for the Big 10 Championship...

Huskers got OWNED: 70 to 31.  OUCH.

I didn't get the chance to watch the game (not that I would have watched much past the first half, since even then, it was 42-10; no hope in coming back from that one).  But apparently the defense (and offense for that matter) decided not to show up.  Figuratively, of course.  But honestly.  We were 10 and 2 this season, and then they go and get dominated like that?  Come on, Big Red.  I love 'ya, but that's a little tough to swallow.

No, stay in Nebraska

My sister has always thought she wanted to go to BYU.  She's just always thought that's where she was going to end up.  Over the weekend, she received her first scholarship - a "regents" scholarship to University of Nebraska at Lincoln that would cover her full-tuition - not an easy thing to get.  It was the first scholarship offer she's received, so far.  I have no doubt there'll be many more to come.  But it leaves the question to be asked: where is she going to end up?

We've had this discussion many times.  For so long, she's wanted to come out to Utah, since that's where I am.  But, she's realized something else recently: she's only going to be out here a year-and-a-half with me before we (hopefully) move back to Nebraska.  Then SHE would be the one abandoned here.  I pushed and pushed for her to come out here until I realized it would be better to just wait another year+ to see her, if when I came back, she was at school in Nebraska.  

I remember what a scary time it was for me when my first semester of my senior year was approaching.  You suddenly realize you only have a few months left, and then you're leaving.  Especially when you don't know where you're leaving to, it can be a crazy time.