Episode 55: Birthdays and Work

I’ve heard a rumor around these halls at work that the time clock wishes you happy birthday. What a nice time clock.

I have NO IDEA if it’s true, though.

I don’t work on my birthday.

The very first year I celebrated my birthday while employed here, October 14^th fell on a Friday. Several things happened that day: I took the day off, Daniel Craig was announced as the sixth official James Bond actor and I slept in. Later that day, I met up with Janet to make a trip down to Las Vegas because who doesn’t want to spend their birthday weekend on their feet all day moving from one store to the next, purchasing makeup you hardly use from Sephora and clothes you still wear from Urban Outfitters? Good birthday.

The next year, my birthday was on a Saturday. For some reason, though, I don’t really remember what happened that year. I probably didn’t sleep in because I had a soccer game. But again, I did not work. Oh and also, Chelsea FC’s goalkeepers both suffered serious injuries that day against Reading FC—Cech fractured his skull and Cudicini had a concussion. Defender John Terry had to finish the game as keeper.

Moving on now to 2007: My birthday fell on a Sunday. I slept in! Church didn’t start until 1:00pm. I believe at the time, I probably sat in really uncomfortable pews so I was utilizing a blow-up “back pillO.” Yep. Getting older is superb.

Bring on 2008. I planned a last minute trip with James and Maren to visit Peter and Genny! So I woke up (probably late enough to consider it sleeping in) in Portland, Oregon after spending time in Seattle and hitting up Cannon Beach the previous days. Pete had to work so the rest of us made our way to Multnomah Falls where we raced a train took a lot of pictures and hiked all the way to the top. Mighty cool birthday.

And now we’ve arrived at this year. My birthday fell on a Wednesday. Right in the middle of the week. Kind of awkward. So I just took the one day off. I woke up at 7:30 am, read a text on my phone and then remembered, I could sleep in. So I dropped my head back down on that pillow and went right back to sleeping. Once I finally did get up, I ate breakfast, did laundry, returned texts and went to the gym. Then it was back home to make soup, burn my tongue eating it, finish laundry, clean up and go over to Tracy’s to see the demolition of their kitchen and have my four-year old niece perform several happy birthday dances for me.

Jane’s happy birthday dances were incredible.

Eventually, Jane and Abe came with me to play at my house for a bit, drew all over dozens of post-it notes and stuck them on my fridge.

Dinner was at my parents’ with my siblings. Besides the great gifts, they all went around the circle and told me nice things about myself. We may tease my dad for being cheesy in his “old age,” but I sure do appreciate this new cheesy tradition we do.

After all the eating, gift opening, complimenting Larrie, and sweeping up peanut shells that were all over the kitchen floor, I went over to Kasey’s for delicious cake and celebrations with my friends.

See how great my birthday was? No working! (I briefly checked email around 3:00pm and sent one response because I was worried about anything going wrong on a project when I’m gone for ONE day.) It felt like a holiday. Larrie Day.

Birthdays at work don’t feel like holidays.

Episode 51: Making the Mediocre Bucks

“You look really nice,” Conder told me.

It was a genuine compliment because for the first time in months I wasn’t wearing jeans to work. I was wearing heels. I was wearing my nice pants that I HAD TO IRON FIRST. I didn’t feel like ironing a shirt, too, so I grabbed a nice, knit, short-sleeve polo and pulled it on. To top off the outfit, I put on my most expensive pair of earrings that sported semi-precious stones, gold and silver. Clearly, my outfit was TOO MUCH for the IT world, but I went to work anyway and Conder therefore complimented me.

I spent much of the regular work day hiding in my cube so that too many people wouldn’t compliment me. Oh wait. No. The real reasons were so that my boss wouldn’t get suspicious that I had a “dentist appointment” and so that people wouldn’t start expecting me to dress nicely for work EVERY DAY.

There’s a reason I work in IT. Casual dress.

I left the office around 5:30 pm and drove downtown for the party. This, my internet friends, was the real reason for my fancy attire.

There is a company in Salt Lake that REALLY knows how to party. I went to the grand opening of O. C. Tanner’s new jewelry store in the renovated Beaux Arts building.

I was my Mom’s date as my Dad was out of town on business and it turns out, I was SO underdressed. My jewelry didn’t cost TENS OF THOUSANDS of dollars, my dress wasn’t purchased just for the event, I wasn’t wearing enough makeup and I had to do my own hair that day. The people around me didn’t drive a Toyota RAV4 like me. I watched the valets jump in the driver seat of a Bentley and an Audi R5 so I chose to park my car on the street a couple of blocks up and walk. It was a nice walk.

Back at the party: hors d’oeuvres were plentiful, the three levels of jewelry were stunning and surprisingly I knew people. Okay, well of course I would know some of them: Marilyn Neilson (look her up as Marilyn Hanold, but be prepared for her pic from Playboy), Jerry Sloan and DeeDee Corradini were B-List celebrities. Turns out, even B-List celebrities wear really expensive jewelry.

I knew, personally, some of the others there whose names you might not be able to find on Wikipedia, but they (or their wives) also wore expensive jewelry. However, they came up and genuinely said hello, how are you? I’m doing great. Thank you for asking. It’s not often that you meet important people who know how to make you, the girl in a white polo shirt, feel important.

After a few hors d’oeuvres and trying on some of the David Yurman jewelry, Mom had to leave, but I hadn’t had a chance to make it out back to the dinner yet so I told her thank you and see you later.

I went and got in line for the salad, cheese and crackers and salmon all by myself.

I’m such a big girl.

But I didn’t want to sit by myself.

So I didn’t.

I went and sat at the table with some of my Dad’s old colleagues. One of them wore a lot of orange: an orange bracelet, an orange tie, orange glasses. It didn’t take me long to realize it was the author of The Carrot Principle, Chester Elton. He dominated the conversation.

But Tim, who I sat next to, despite being an Executive Vice President, asked me a few personal questions and only one answer surprised his wife: how did an English major turn into a software tester?

It’s a secret.

Eventually, I excused myself from the party and walked back up to my car. I like my car, even if it’s not a Bentley. I jumped in and with the sun setting behind me, started the drive home. It was when I looked in the rear view mirror that perspective finally hit me.

I had just been in a party where the least expensive jewelry was still over a thousand dollars, where the people there ate all the chocolate dipped strawberries they desired, and where the women looked chilly in their tiny black dresses. I felt out of place, a little dull.

But there in my rear view mirror was a sight more beautiful than the diamonds I’d just seen. The sun was setting behind one of my favorite buildings in Salt Lake, one that represents our Pioneer heritage and the 40-years of hard work of men and women who would never own tuxedos or little black dresses. It was seeing the Salt Lake Temple disappear behind me as I drove up the hill that reminded me of the abundance in my own life.

The next day, I went to work in jeans.

Self-Portraits of a Four-Year-Old

Submit your captions for this week’s caption contest in the comments below. Winner will be praised next week.

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Jarv read the captions from last week’s contest to my family after Sunday dinner. Judging by the amount of laughter, there were many quality submissions. GOOD WORK PEOPLE. With that said, here are the top three captions judging by the amount of laughter.

First place: CLANCY! It was the little addition at the end of her comment about the tiny shovel. That was the punch line that brought out the guffaws. High five, Clanc! Note on Clancy: she’s the coolest blogging, landlording, raising childrening, Idahoan I know.

Second place: Janet. In the words of Seinfeld, coming in as 2nd place means that you’re the #1 loser. But at least you’re a funny one! Jarv even read your comment with the right pirate-y accent. Note on Janet: I miss diet coke breaks.

Third place: Emily. The good, former stake president (my dad) chuckled the most at this once, referencing the parable of the mule. Note on Emily: She’s a great blogger, too, so check her out, mmkay?

Dad’s Cell Phone Pic of the Week Submission

Thanks for the submission, Dad!

Now I must admit that I’ve grown a wee bit weary of posting about the caption contest each week so eventually, I’ll just post the rules on a static page somewhere. You regulars already know what they are so go ahead and post a caption… you have ONE WEEK.

And last week’s winner is: Jarv! Way to go, bro. It wasn’t all that great of a caption, but whatever. You won anyway. Just because you posted a comment, really. You have to encourage behavior if you want it to be repeated, right?

Family Vacation, Family Fun!

“How many families have a vacation song, I mean really?” ~Dad

“Um, the Griswolds.” ~Mick

Last week was the family vacation and every now and then, somebody would sing the Campbell family vacation song, to the tune of Pirates of the Caribbean: Family Vacation, Family Fun!

Social Intelligence: The New Science of Human Relationships

Yes, it’s been a while since we’ve done a book review. I apologize. Profusely. But here’s a great one for you.

I read Daniel Goleman’s book, Emotional Intelligence, several years ago. It’s an insightful book that I would recommend so when I saw his follow-up book, Social Intelligence, in the audiobook section at the library, I snatched it up.

I listened to this book while driving to work, about town, or sitting in my car at the McDonald’s drive thru. In it, Goleman describes how the brain reacts when we interract with others and in so doing, he describes the influence of our social interactions. Did you know that when you watch a movie, your brain’s chemical reactions are the exact same as they would be if you watched a murder, sex, etc in real life? So I guess we’ve told ourselves, “this is only a movie,” but our brains didn’t get the memo. Makes you think next time you go to an R-rated movie (maybe).

I have to tell you that I kept on thinking about LDS gospel principles while reading this. I know; I’m about to get serious here. Prepare yourselves.

Goleman talks about how our social interractions can actually mold human biology. So the people that we interract with most, the movies we see, the books we read, the music we listen to can actually affect the makeup of our brain. Have you ever wondered how in the world you can possibly attempt to become more like the Savior? Have you ever wondered if your choices like which radio station you listen to on the way to work might do more than just provide you with a good beat while you sit in traffic?

I think I’ll need to purchase this book so that I can read it again and again in hopes of learning how to better connect with others. By the way, Goleman also mentioned the #1 attraction for men AND women. So are you curious enough now? Don’t you want to know what that guy is REALLY looking for in a little wifey? And no, it’s not how cute she looks in an apron…

Guess you better get the book and find out.

(I gave my dad this audiobook for his birthday. Hope he liked it.)

Day 16: Solving All Your Problems! (How to write like ME)

For today’s “Build a Better Blog” task, I get to solve all of your problems!

Wait.

Stop.

Correction: I get to solve ONE of your problems.

Let’s not try and catch a whale when all we have is a pole and one worm.

So what problems do you have that I can solve? I had to answer that question myself in order to write this fabulous post. In order to do this, I just answered the question FOR myself. What are MY problems?

Yes, the list was long. It started with ‘broken ankle*’ and continued on through ‘dislocated jaw,’ ‘imperfect vision,’ and ‘dislikes making phone calls.’ At this point, I realized that I don’t know how to fix my own problems. Yet. If anybody knows why in the world I dislike making phone calls so much and how to change that, do tell.

I then switched back to trying to solve your problems and thought I could at least offer some advice: how to write cool blog entries like Larrie.

Step one: Hate English. My 7^th grade English teacher sent me to the Vice Principal’s office. He told me I was supposed to go to the higher English class. He couldn’t bully me into being in that class, thank you very much. I continued in high school taking the regular English classes because I told me teachers that I didn’t like English. They didn’t include my vocab/spelling tests in the bell curve grades for the class. (I’m such a word geek.) Then, my freshman year at BYU, I decided to scrap the Accounting degree and declare myself an English major. My high school AP Calculus teacher was very upset with me.

Step two: Write in lots of journals. I had a journal when I was younger. I mostly only wrote in it when I had mono in fourth grade and then again for a Young Woman’s Personal Progress goal. Then I signed up for a creative writing class my senior year. I hated the teacher, but I still wrote in my journal, as required. It became addicting. My friends gave me journals for birthdays and Christmases. I wrote in those. Sometimes I drew in them.

Step three: Come from a facetious family. I don’t have a choice. I am sarcastic. I really don’t compare to my siblings, though. I’m the quiet one. Promise. Everyone else is loudly facetious. It probably comes out when I write, though. Probably.

Step four: Be creative. You might have to work on this one over a very long time. Start with drawing books in preschool, graduate to a comic strip about unlucky Natey the fish in 6^th grade, then draw the cartoon for the high school newspaper. Transfer this to attempts at creative writing and then evolve into a random blogger – emphasis on random.

Step five: STAY AWAY FROM BE-VERBS. Writing with be verbs and adverbs is dull writing. It’s like Mrs. Lake would say in high school: show, don’t tell. Which of the following sentences would you rather read? I was writing frequently. OR I wrote mini novellas every night about the quiet knight at the round table, the rat hanging out at Elsinore castle, and the alcoholics anonymous meeting with Puck, Antigone, Ismene and Linda Loman in attendance.

Step six: Read interesting writing. I mentioned some of the blogs I like to read already. That’s a start. The more you read, the better you write. I read Dave Barry when I have the time. He’s mighty hilarious. There’s also Mark Twain, David Sedaris, James Thurber, Will Rogers, Dr. Seuss, and Ann Coulter**.

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*I broke my ankle as a kid, playing soccer (surprise). I remember sitting in the dining room showing the “double ankle” to my dad who examined me and determined that I was okay. He’s a chemical engineer turned project manager turned best-selling author, not a doctor. He sent me on my way and years later, an x-ray revealed the now floating bone fragment and I still have a double ankle.

**Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

Dad and The Duel

DOC:  You look tan.

LRE: Huh?

DOC: Okay; I’m lying. But I do know that you went to St. George last weekend so I thought I’d PRETEND like you got a tan there, too.

LRE: You’re really funny, doc. Really.

DOC: Don’t patronize.

LRE: Don’t make fun.

DOC: Good to see we’re starting on such a positive note.

LRE: You’re in charge of this therapy session, mister.

DOC: Darn right I am. Let’s talk about your dad today then.

LRE: Okay.

DOC: I have just one question to ask.

LRE: This will be short then.

DOC: Not likely; I know how you have a story for everything.

LRE: That’s just because conversation is more interesting that way.

DOC: It’s not a bad thing; it’s just a fact of Larrie’s life.

LRE: Fine; what’s your question?

DOC: What’s your favorite childhood memory of your dad?

LRE: That he called me BIRD BONES.

DOC: That’s your favorite?

LRE: Oh, by favorite do you mean what I liked most?

DOC: You don’t know the meaning of the word, favorite?

LRE: It’s a really difficult word to understand.

DOC: You’re not a very facetious person, are you?

LRE: Never.

DOC: Just try to be a little serious and answer the question correctly.

LRE: Am I being scored?

DOC: I can wait until you decide to answer.

LRE: Right. Then my vote goes to when my dad would read poetry to us before bed. My favorite poem was “The Duel.” I even quoted the first stanza when I tried out for Seven Brides for Seven Brothers in junior high: The gingham dog and the calico cat side by side on the table sat; was half past twelve and what do you think? Not one nor the other had slept a wink. The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate appeared to know as sure as fate there was going to be a terrible spat. I wasn’t there; I simply state what was told to me by the Chinese plate. Etcetera.

DOC: I like it.

LRE: You should—it’s a good one. He read it out of the book, 101 Greatest Poems. Good book.

DOC: Thank you for giving a genuine answer.

LRE: Sure nuff… sometimes, I’m genuine. Just not usually on the ol’ blog.

I Miss Afternoon Kindergarten

I don’t get along with mornings. We just can’t see eye-to-eye because mornings won’t give up their long-held views of being in the morning and I can’t change my life-long stance of not liking them. It’s been difficult for both of us.

Wait, no; I take that back. Mornings could care less about how I feel about them. It’s only been difficult for me. I just haven’t been able to learn ANY mind over mattress skills… at ANY time in my life. Including these points:

• Kindergarten – you would think the daily desire to sleep in might be something that developed over time. You might but you’d be wrong. I can still remember how my Mom told me that she would put me in afternoon kindergarten or else I would never make it on time. She was worried about me going into first grade for two reasons: school would start around 8:00 a.m. (in the MORNING) and I would eat lunch at school with apparently terrible table manners.*
• Seminary Council – It may have been my Dad, not sure, but at least one of my parents expressed some concern when I was on the LDS seminar council my senior year. Why? It had nothing to do with whether or not they thought I was spiritual enough or if I could do a good job. It was the fact that the council met EARLY IN THE MORNING before the start of regular school (which was already EARLY IN THE MORNING). If school started around 7:40 a.m. and we met before that, those meetings truly were EARLY IN THE MORNING. And the only way I could possibly make it to them was if I was responsible for getting somebody else to those meetings, too, so I would carpool with Lindsey. Hooray for friends!
• Biology 100 – Obviously, I didn’t have Louise** around to STOP me from signing up for a TEN A.M. class my freshman year at BYU. And to top it off, it was a class with about 800 students so it’s not like the professor would notice if I wasn’t in attendance. Oh, and one more thing to top off the topping off: it was mostly graded on test performance so when I already had the book and the syllabus gave me the dates of the tests, guess when I went to class?
• Door-to-door Sales – I ended up in Chambersburg, PA the summer after that blessed freshman year in an attempt to make the big bucks selling books door-to-door. While I only made an okay amount of money in the end, the lessons I learned about myself made the experience worth it. The funny thing is, that I thought that by the end of the summer, it would be easy to wake up at 6:00 a.m. because I had been doing it EVERY DAY. I was SO wrong. The minute the summer ended, I slept in. Probably until noon so that I woke up in the AFTERNOON.

I’ve done a LOT of self-analysis (in the last 30 seconds) and determined my reason for disliking mornings so much is this: I really like to sleep and by the time I finally DO fall asleep, I don’t want to get up… ever.

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Political Link of the Day: “How Much Should You Give?” (thanks Katie)

[New York Governor] Paterson and his wife apparently gave just $150 to charity in 2007—out of an income of $269,815—and earned a rousing Bronx cheer from many New Yorkers.

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*Is there nobody ELSE out there who may have preferred eating the edge of their hot dog first before consuming the mystery meat on the inside when they were 6? Eating it like a typewriter was just more amusing than sticking it in a bun.

**Louise was the academic counselor that brought me back from the brink of academic expulsion by telling me to “get real” with my goals. That meant scheduling classes after noon (making them AFTERNOON classes, not MORNING classes) and taking them from the best professors.

Dusting Off My Square Dancing Skills

Once upon a time*, I was going to start telling you a story about my weekend. However, I got off on the tangent from my asterisk and forgot what I was going to say. That happens OFTEN.

Let’s try again. Story may change from its original intentions.

Once upon a time, I used to sleep in, do chores, and run errands on Saturdays. This Saturday, however, none of the above happened. Instead, the day was rather jam-packed and I was happy for it (despite the fact that I have no milk or eggs in my fridge, but I do have whip cream).

The day began with soccer and the weather was practically perfect, as was the field. Sadly, my game was far from, but regardless, it was good exercise and I played a better second half. (We lost and I totally shanked a shot on goal… sad. Well, really, the saddest part is that I couldn’t play better for the Campbell cheering section which came to watch mine and Maren’s team get 2^nd place in the Utah Cup. Sorry Dad, Jarv, Jennie and the kids, but thanks for coming.)

After running around in the sun for 90 minutes, I of course thought it necessary to meet up with Shawman to pump some iron. So it was off to the gym to try and convince my biceps and triceps they had the energy to lift a 20-lbs bar.

After the lifting, I rushed home to clean up and meet up with Mick, Tracy, their kids and Maren to watch a movie. And what movie do you think we went to? High School Musical 3, of course! Those kids were excited for the dancing and singing and such; I was entertained by seeing my high school on the big screen. Disney made my East High look much more school-spirit-filled than I remembered it. After the movie, and after Abe danced around in the front of the theatre, it was off to the next activity: the Fall Ball.

Here’s where the new singles ward comes into play. It was a ward activity and when I showed up, there was nowhere to park so I had to back out of the parking lot and park on the street. When I walked into the park pavilion, they were sweeping it up after having pushed all the tables out of the way and an older gentleman was standing with a mic in hand, prepared to begin calling some square dancing.

When was the last time you square danced**?

Let the young single adult square dancing begin. I felt like a hand-holding slut. (This is where I was going to tell you the number of guys that I held hands with as I skipped around promenading home and such, but I have no idea… maybe 30.) For the most part, there was minimal stepping on feet, nobody fell down and everybody learned how to “go into the center with a whoop and a holler.”

Did I mention that it was a good way to meet many more of the guys in my ward? Now if only I could remember all of their names. I’ll get there… eventually.

It was an hour of dosados, allemande lefts, courtesy turns, promenading and grand squares. Turns out, it was a fairly decent workout as well. I almost broke a sweat.

Sadly, when they were preparing the dutch ovens to make cobblers, I had to leave to make it to an indoor soccer game (where I only scored once so it was not one of my better soccer days all around).

Thankfully, due to circumstances beyond both mine and the guy’s control, the date I had for that night had to be rescheduled. I went home and stretched my muscles.

So aren’t you proud of me for trying something new? Well, something fairly new as I hadn’t squared danced for many moons… (and thanks to Mademoiselle Drew for letting me borrow the use of asterisks for side notes from her blog style).

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Political Link of the Day: McCain gives Obama a new nickname, Barack the Redistributor

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*Once I asked an ex-relationship a question. It was my attempt to get some conversation out of somebody who seemed to have decided not to talk to me for a very long weekend playing tourist in a big city. I simply asked him, “Tell me a story from your mission and start with, ‘once upon a time.’” Don’t YOU think that’s a good question to hopefully hear an interesting story? Well, I did. But, ex-relationship did NOT. Instead, he chose not to answer me and later said something along the lines of, “Well, you have to ask more specific questions.” I didn’t realize that regular old conversation between adults was governed by such a particular rule. How have I ever managed to carry on conversations with people and not necessarily followed this? You’re probably appalled now.

**Third grade with Doug Bodell. I should iSearch him and see if I can online stalk him; he was my third grade crush.