i fall for fall

I'm so grateful for the seasons. Each season is so unique and shares with us its individual beauty...

Winter, it's no lie, has been my least favorite season my entire life pretty much by default, because warm weather is more friendly and inviting. But even if you discount my newly acquired love of snowboarding, winter's got its perks.

Winter is sweater weather, and allows me to dress in layers (which is something I've always adored, but can't really justify in summer months). Although it's no fun to drive in, snow is absolutely beautiful and serene. Winter is baking weather, and oh, yeah, two words: hot chocolate. Also, snowboarding.

Spring is so wonderful, when the earth comes back to life. I love when the snow melts and the ice is finally off the streets. I adore waking up to the twittering of birds. And seeing nature rejuvenate--flowers in bloom, and budding trees--is simultaneously invigorating and soothing unto my soul.

Summer brings with it camping and hiking and swimming. Independence Day celebrations. Late nights, and bonfires with s'mores, and vacations, and sandals, and...yes, summer is good. Very, very good.

But nothing holds a candle to autumn time. Autumn time is heaven on earth. I admire watching the leaves change colors each day. I adore going for walks, hearing the fallen leaves crunch beneath my feet. I'm fond of wearing jackets and scarves and boots with tall socks. I get a kick out of watching Halloween movies. Making soups or casseroles. Breathing in the crisp air. Eating (Honeycrisp) apples. Baking with apples. Going for little drives to see further enjoy the autumn colors. Autumn time is harvest time, and that just makes me happy.

Yesterday was closing day for the 2013 Idaho Falls farmers market season, and I went to bid farewell; I didn't end up purchasing anything, but I walked by the river and took some pictures...

Wow. That reflection...

All the fall colors on one tree...

fallen leaves...

breathe it in...

water tower

I've been spending a lot of time alone lately, and although it's not typically my first choice (or second or third), it's not been so bad. Pretty good, even. I've had a fairly healthy self esteem (since early adulthood?), but recently I've relearned that I like myself. I'm fun. And I'm thoughtful and considerate and friendly and helpful. And I'm okay being alone. I mean, I love being with people, and it's still typically  my first choice (and second and third), but solitude--even if sometimes it feels forced--is okay. 

Here's to rediscovery. And hot apple cider, and leggings with long sweaters and boots, and bright vivid hues. And here's to whatever tomorrow brings.

advanced first aid, ricks college style

I was reminded of the term "degloving"today; a term I haven't heard or even thought about in years. *If you don't know what degloving is, don't Google it. DON'T! It's disgusting and horrific, and there are images that will appear on your screen that you just can't un-see. I'll verbally explain "degloving" in due time.

This is kind of a hint, but hold tight...

I was a freshman at Ricks College. My professor was a man we'll call "Jim." And the "advanced" part of this particular first aid class was that we not only learned what to do in emergency situations; we learned about injuries in-depth: when and how they happen, what they look like, etc., etc.

Jim, I think, loved teaching this class. And he liked to play a game I called "Name That Injury." I'm pretty sure you get the gist of the game by the title I gave it, yes?

On the few occasions that we played Name That Injury, Jim would turn on the overhead projector, shut off the lights, and rub his hands together in fiendish delight. (That last part is probably inaccurate, but I swear that's how I see it in my head all these years later.)

I've never had a strong stomach. Not ever. And the very thought of having to look at pictures of heinous injuries made me nervous and queasy. In fact, I still get a bit light headed as I flash back to images I had to see in that class.

But I digress...

Before each image would flash onscreen, I'd look down and take special interest in my hands or my pen, maybe rest my head on my desk. I'd wait for the inevitable gasp from my fellow students, and I'd try to gauge exactly how bad the injury was based on their reactions.

"What do you think happened here?" Jim would say in a voice I deemed much too chipper for such an occasion, as he called on students at random.

I'd brace myself, take a deep breath, and find the courage to look up at the image presented.

"A motorcycle accident?" one student would guess.

"Oh, I can see why you might think that! But, no. This was a bear attack." The person pictured was missing half of his (or her?) face, down to the skull.

Image: someone's calf, cut at a steep angle, to the bone. "What happened here?"

"Umm...a sword?" another student would wager.

"Nope. Badger attack." (Can badgers really do that? Am I remembering this wrong? It was an awful game for me to take part in, and I might not remember all the facts. But this was traumatic enough that these memories feel solid and accurate, and I swear he said "badger attack.")

Image: horribly mangled hand.

"Blender?" This was my guess.

"Ooo, close! Garbage disposal!" Jim exclaimed. (Do you feel bad for me? That he called my name on such a particularly disgusting picture?)

More images. More wild guesses. Sometimes we guessed right, sometimes not. Always, I would look down before the next picture flashed across the screen, always a collective gasp, always searching my soul for courage to look up just in case he called on me again...

Are you ready to hear about degloving?

Brace yourself.

Think of removing a glove from you hand. But the glove is your skin, severing the blood supply and all that garbage. It doesn't have to be your hand to be considered degloving; it might be a finger or a limb. That image in your mind is hideous enough without graphic representation, I assure you. (Don't Google it!)

Anyway...despite being grossed out by downright appalling pictures of profound injuries, I really did like the class overall, and it's difficult to explain why...

The way Jim talked about animal attacks and motorcycle accidents and everything in between was enough to make you paranoid, make you want to avoid nature at all costs. He outright refused to wear rings because of an increased chance of being degloved. But man, he was passionate about that class. And as I recall, he was an avid outdoorsman; he educated himself and was smart about his outdoor adventures, he lived his life (ring-free), and encouraged us to do the same.

calendaring

I've been looking at my calendar for November and December a lot the last couple of days. Planning a thing or two, you see...

HOW DID IT GET TO BE OCTOBER 21st ALREADY? I mean! REALLY!

Once Thanksgiving hits, the year just flies on by with ferocious velocity; it's almost indecent, except that it's the most wonderful time of the year. AND IT'S ALREADY NEARING THE END OF OCTOBER, AND I'M JUST LIKE... ? ! ?

Anyway, I've got a fun thing or two coming up, and that's not even counting the holidays. Moab will be happening near the beginning of November. The Gina/Moab history is short, and it isn't kind, for the most part. (Evidence found here, here and here; my latest trip was the most brutal, but whatev.)

You'd think I wouldn't want to return, right? I mean, you'd really think.

Alas, I am determined to give it another go. I really want to love Moab, and I do have a smattering of fun/funny recollections in the montage of memories created the first two times I went. Plus: 1) I was invited to go again. 2) It will be a fairly inexpensive vacation (all things considered). And 3) It will give me something to look forward to before Thanksgiving happens. Also, 4) I feel like Moab deserves a third shot; if it fails me this time, I can say "Moab hates me" and really know it to be true...

Besides Moab, I've got a couple of snowboarding trips on the agenda before the new year begins. I got a Big Sky card, which allows me to board for free once each, opening and closing weeks (YES!). Also, my BOGO at Snowbird has to be used by December 25th, and I've gotta take advantage of that.

Look at that, I'm truly not dreading the coming winter. I've never been able to say that before...

Here are a few pictures to look at. They have nothing to do with this post, but I feel okay about that.

Let's start with a beautiful Idaho sunset...

...or two.

I recently discovered, while looking in my medicine/toiletry drawers
that I've got three tubes of Neosporin.
Three ought to be enough to last me quite some time, yes?

I. LOVED. General Conference at the beginning of the month.

Off and on, it's beginning to feel like scarf season.

I went to the dentist  earlier this month, and I am cavity-free, baby!

I've been having fun with an iPhone app called XnScetch.

I really like it.

Also, I got my craft on last Saturday at a RS activity.
I can't tell you how much I love my cute little turkey...

Happy Monday to you all!

We Are The Harry Potter Generation

I've been re-reading the Harry Potter books.

It's something I do every couple of years.

Because Harry Potter is awesome.

Last time I read the books (roughly 2 years ago), I made the discovery that I'm younger than Harry Potter. And it was a jarring revelation.

Yes, yes. I absolutely know that Harry is a fictional character. Zip it, you. I am well aware that Hogwarts isn't a real place, and that Albus Dumbledore is a figment of JK Rowling's imagination, and that Voldemort (thank heaven!) never existed. I KNOW ALL THAT. But I'm a Harry Potter nerd; I've embraced it, and you can either deal with it, or else come back when I've posted something else.

Where was I?

Oh yes; last time I read Deathly Hallows, I looked at the dates that HP was born, etc., etc., and I realized that I'm younger than Harry. In fact, Harry was already living in a crib under the Dursley's staircase by the time I was born.

I guess it was a weird realization, because I first read about Harry-the-11-year-old when I was 18. And Jo didn't publish Harry's final book until 2007, after I had finished my schooling and started living my life as a real adult with a real career. Et cetera.

Fictionally speaking, I would've gone to Hogwarts the same year as Collin Creevey (because, let's face it, in a fictional world, I'd have been born a witch in Scotland; probably my folks would've been a witch and wizard, although I think that each of their parents would've been muggles, with the possible exception of my mother's mother? Yes, Grandma Rigby would have some magical blood. Now you know).

Anyway. I've heard the phrase, "We are the Harry Potter Generation." And I can't help but think, "What is the time frame on this 'HP Generation'?"

Does is start with the the kids who were roughly 11  years old when "The Sorcerer's Stone" book first came out? (11 is really a magical year when it comes to wizardom, after all.) If this is the case, that means the true HP Generation aren't much younger than me, maybe somewhere in their late twenties (since book one was published in '98 here in the States).

Or do we go by when the movies first went to theaters? My friend Katie was born the same week as Daniel Radcliffe, who portrayed Harry in the movies; if we follow this timeline, the true HP Generation is a bit younger, in their early- to mid-twenties.

I realize that this problem isn't really a problem; especially since a generation spans a handful of years. (Also, because it's a fictitious problem, right?)

But here's the rub: when it comes to Harry Potter, there is no such thing as "too old" to enjoy it.

My mother introduced me to Harry Potter just after I graduated high school in 2000. She told me the gist of it: "It's about a boy who finds out he's a wizard and he goes to a magical school!" (My mom totally said some version of that sentence with an exclamation point.) I (very likely rolled my eyes and) told her I'd rather not, but Mother would not relent; she insisted that I at least read the first few chapters, and I reluctantly agreed.

My mother is usually right. About most things. So I should've figured that she wasn't just yanking my chain when she told me it was a great book.

I devoured "Sorcerer's Stone" within a few days.

Dad ended up buying the first four books, because by that point Harry Potter Fever was running rampant, and, as a family of bookworms, we didn't want to wait in line to borrow the books from the library. Late summer/early fall of 2000...well, those nights were dedicated to reading the first four books of the Harry Potter series.

Which brings me back to my quandary: Harry Potter is technically children's literature. Eleven-year-olds were smitten with the books. I, as a young adult in 2000, was absolutely smitten. My folks, full-fledged adults, were totally smitten. Grandmas and grandpas were smitten.

As each of the next 3 books were released over the course of the next 7 years, I ended up buying my own copy the day they came out.

...Except for the year "Half Blood Prince" was released; I was in the middle of graduate school. I was taking a research class that summer, and the class didn't end until a week or two after the book was published. I gave money to my dad and had him buy me a copy. The book remained in my parents' home (in a whole other city) until I had finished my research class. Mom had a CEU class in Cache Valley the day I finished, and she ended up bringing my book to my apartment that very afternoon. I thanked her kindly and stayed up until 4:00 the next morning reading that book. I think that's the fastest I've ever read any book of any size.

Fast forward to January 2013: my nephew Seth had just turned 6 when his parents let him watch the first Harry Potter movie. Seth went gaga over it. I can't tell you how many conversations I've had with Seth regarding HP. Rather intelligent conversations they've been, too. (I tell you what, Seth has asked some excellent questions!) His parents are currently reading "Prisoner of Azkaban" to Seth. I'm not sure a kid could love Harry Potter more than Seth does at this time in his life. Can you guess who Seth is going to be for Halloween?

I know this has been a long-winded post, but here's my point: I believe that anyone who has read and enjoyed "Harry Potter" is part of the Harry Potter Generation. And that spans a lot of actual generations, be it Baby Boomers (like my folks), Gen X (that's me), Generation Y (a handful of my friends), Generation Z (Seth), and all the generations to come.

We are ALL the Harry Potter Generation.

Thank you, Joanne Rowling, for sharing such a magical story that can bridge generational gaps in its own way.

Deactivating the HP nerd in five...four...three...two...

*There will likely be another post, one day, about my favorite HP character of all, Severus Snape*

...one.

all is well

I went to Utah for the second weekend in a row (although you wouldn't know it, unless you follow me on Instagram). My weekend was quite fantastic, for a handful of reasons.

*I had a fantastic phone conversation with Abby
as I drove to Utah Thursday night

*I spent time with family

*I got to see all 8 of my nieces and nephews

*I saw the Warren Miller 2013 World Premier

*I had a fantastic visit with Brooker (both before and after Warren Miller)

*I got to chill with my Ma while we babysat baby Derek
for several hours on Saturday

I headed out later than usual last Thursday because I'm in charge of a group of young girls in my church. (The group is called Achievement Days; we meet every other week, and last Thursday, we drove to a small community and toured a potato cellar. The girls loved it.) Abby called me as I was driving to Utah after the activity, and she made the drive so terrific.

This vision of beauty also helped my drive quite enjoyable.
I pulled over near the Rose/Firth exit to snap this picture.

Any time I get to see my family, life is good. If I happen to see all of my nieces and nephews, life is even better.

Janie chose her own outfit on Friday. I know she knows stripes are my favorite,
but I'm not sure if that's why she wore so many varieties...?

Aaaaand here we have Juliebug, getting into some sort of mischief or another.

Golly, I love these boys; Emmett was as cuddly as usual,
and Seth and I had a nice visit about Harry Potter.

I've gone to the Warren Miller movie probably 4-5 times in as many years; I usually nearly die of boredom, but I've gone anyway, because they have given ski lift vouchers to The Canyons in the past, and usually my friend Cameron can't make it, so he usually pays for the WM ticket and I go in his place so he can get the lift ticket for free. What a good friend I can be! But I digress: this year, I actually thought the film was kind of cool, because I started snowboarding last year. Turns out, if you actually care a little bit about skiing/boarding, it makes the movie much more enjoyable. Also, I got a BOGO lift ticket to Snowbird this year. And I get to keep it! Cameron can't have it!

On Saturday, my brother Ryan and his wife Janel took their older kids to the BYU homecoming game in Provo; Mom and I babysat Derek (their almost 7-month-old) in the meantime, and it. was. awesome. Derek is super chill and SO sweet and I adored every moment with that boy. And Mom. (My mom really is the greatest in all the land, you know...)

He was happy the entire time, until I prematurely took the binky out of his mouth:
then he showed us this sad face, and I gave his pacifier back real quick.

But I'm being honest when I say he was all smiles otherwise, even sans-binky.

We gave him tub time in the sink, and he was quite content splashing around.

This is how he smiles. Doesn't it just melt your heart?

I drove back to Idaho on Sunday morning, and the drive was kind of wonderful. I listened to some Josh Groban as I enjoyed the visual delights of my favorite season: heavy, dense, low-hanging clouds with occasional bursts of rain; the mountains and foothills alight with fading red and yellow-leafed trees speckled among the evergreens; and driving past the lovely communities near the freeway, whose trees glowed with gold and bright orange hues. Yes, I enjoyed my drive back to Idaho, absolutely.  

Breathe it in, baby! FALL!

As I sang along with Josh, I was overcome with the most spectacular feelings of peace, love, joy, and contentment. I switched the music off so I could revel in all the lovely feelings, and ponder a bit.

Sometimes I wish I could catch a glimpse or two of myself in the future; just little snippets to see what awaits, you know? To see who I'll fall in love with and marry, to see how many kids we'll have, and what they'll be like. To know where I'll settle, and other such things.

I realize, of course, that that's not the point of life. 

No. The point of this life is to live in the present. To find your faith and prove it. To allow life (your trials and blessings and everything in between) to mold you into a better version of yourself. To not get so caught up in the "what-ifs" or the "whys" and to quit asking, "when?" 

Life is what you make it, and there is joy to be found in every situation. Even in the seemingly depressing situations, if you'll just look up and around, you'll find something to smile at or laugh about.

I'm not at all where I thought I'd be at this point in life. I figured that by the time I was 31, I'd be married, chasing a toddler and cleaning baby's diapers and making a home with my own little family unit; my yard wouldn't be big, but we'd rake the leaves into giant piles the fall, shovel our little walkway and build snowmen in the winter, plant a garden in the spring, and grill our dinners in the summer. I'd be involved in my kids' lives; I'd wipe away tears when they fell, and I'd read them bedtime stories and tuck them in at night, and we'd go on family walks, and have dance parties on rainy days.

Isn't that a lovely image? It's what I've always wanted. And I think it will still happen...at least, some version of that little dream... 

I just need to keep living my life in the meantime. Make my own adventures, and travel and play and enjoy the heck out of this time in my life. I'm totally loving autumn, and although I'm not keen for winter to start before December, I'll try to take it in stride (because it will likely come by November) and try to trick myself into thinking that winter is the best season while it's in front of me, you know? I'll master carving on my snowboard, and I'll make a different soup every week, and maybe pick up a new hobby when I'd rather stay inside...

During yesterday's drive home, I felt that God is in charge. I mean, I've always known that He's in charge, but I felt with clarity that: God loves me, and things will work out, and I'm at a terrific stage in life and I need to make the most of it.

Anyway, I don't mean to get preachy on you, I just wanted to share my feelings of contentment and peace. All is well, you know?

fun. the band.

I love Fun. (despite their confusing name). I've loved them since my *brother introduced me to their music...a couple of years ago? Sometime shortly before their Some Nights album came out, I recall (with clarity). And I suppose he introduced them to me because of his awesome wife, Abby (hi, Abby!).

*Side note: I think it's wonderfully appropriate that Vance is the one who introduced me to Fun., because historically, in my life, he's introduced me to a lot of great music, including but not limited to: Tom Petty, Scorpions, Royal Bliss, Collective Soul, and Halestorm, as well as some lesser-knows like Pain of Salvation (listen to their cover of Hallelujah, please) and Birthday Massacre, among others.

But I digress.

My favorite Fun. song has been, from the beginning, The Gambler.

I'm not sure what it is about that song, but...*gasp*...I love it.

The rest of their songs are catchy, too. Something about Nate's voice just gets to me. 

Back in January or February, I found out that Fun. was bringing their Most Nights tour to Utah in August, and I was all over that. I think I received my concert ticket on Valentine's Day. (Best Valentine I've ever given myself. Thanks, Gina. Sincerely.)

Fast forward 6 months from date of purchase (but rewind, like, a month and a half from now)...

I figured Fun. would put on a great show: I know and love most of their music; I was in excellent company (Michelle, Abby and Lindsay, and we met up with a handful of my Idaho Falls peeps); at an incredible outdoor venue surrounded by my lovely Utah mountains. Yes, I knew it would be a wonderful show.

I didn't expect to walk away thinking it was one of the best concerts I've ever been to.

But, guys? Fun. puts on an incredible show. Nate and his guys were very interactive with the crowd, and they were animated. And I love them.

I got an incredible picture of the setting sun as we waited for the opening band to come onstage, and then...I don't know. Let's just say that when it gets dark, the quality of my iPhone pictures takes a dramatic nosedive. Good thing Lindsay was able to capture some amazing shots, and that she shared them with me...

Let's just see if you can't tell whose phone took what pictures, shall we?

The crew: Abby, me, Michelle, and Lindsay

Picturesque backdrop to a fantastic concert, don't you think?
Hello, group of strangers!

Hello, Nathaniel.

Yes, this one is mine. It's blurry, but I kinda love it...

"Carry oooooooon, carry on, carry on..."
(That's probably not the song they were singing at this point, but whatever.)

Him's a little guy, but boy, can he sing!

...

Utah loves you, Fun.!

Also, did I mention? We were pretty near the stage.
There were just a few people behind us...

 Yeah. Seeing Fun. in concert was pretty much amazing. I wouldn't mind seeing them each and every time they make their way through SLC...

four and a half months later...

I really and truly had every intention of getting back on the wagon and blogging much more regularly after I got back from my vacation in May.

I'm not quite sure what happened.

A few things happened that I didn't necessarily want to share on such a public forum (although "public" is kind of a liberal term, since I probably don't have any followers any more)...

My summer wasn't even a particularly busy one, once I got back from my trip to sunny California.

I'm not quite sure why I neglected you so efficiently, blog. None of the excuses I might come up with are bound to be very good.

However, I really hope I can experience the personal joys of blogging once again. Not for the readers (that I don't have any more anyway), but for me. Blogging has been therapeutic in the past, and it's been a fun way for me to journal the happenings in my life.

Here goes. A new resolution I'm starting in October for no apparent reason, other than I think I miss blogging.