Warm jammies, Long day

11:11 pm and today was the most productive sick day ever.  I'm in my Christmas jammies because even though it seems to be warming up and drying out around here (4 straight days of blue blue skies, thank you), I'm still cold under my skin and the only thing that help is flannel/fleece PJs (with the collar popped apparently) and the inch-thick red socks my future Mother-in-Law gave me as a Christmas stocking this year. 

Yes, I have three piles of clean clothes to put away, but it means I got TWO very full loads done today, along with a number of errands that have been clouding up the back of my brain including, but not limited to depositing over $1000 in checks, getting in a quasi-fight with my financial planner about my life insurance policy, finalizing wedding invitations, tables and food with my mom, buying thank you cards and contraceptives, a Bikram yoga class that kicked my butt but sweat out everything toxic in me, and an episode of Lost to top it off. 

And I made my bed. 

Irene

There's this lady I work with at the temple, Irene.  I actually grew up going to church with her, though my only memory of her was that she was old and her husband was dying so we went as a youth group to clean up their house.  It's 15 years later now and she's got that wobbly head thing going on where it always looks like she's nodding in agreement, or maybe trying her hand (head) at a good old fashioned Indian head shake. She's about 4'10", maybe shorter with posture, and has the kind of wrinkles that I love shout that I want some day, because they show a life well-lived.  My mom says wait 'til I'm her age and I'll rethink the beauty of wrinkles, but Irene's skin and small pouf of silvery white hair make me think I could like aging, if I could end up as cute as her. 

I just noticed Irene again tonight, up close towering over her.  I don't think I've ever had 4" on anyone over the age of 10.  It's funny how old people, to me, feel made up, like they're out of a story or a movie or something.  I see the wrinkles and make up stories in my head of years that made them wiser.  Sure, they've had those years, but they've also had things like a pick line up their arm for weeks at a time and husbands dying and a lot of normal days full of dinner and errands.

When I first started at the temple, none of the ladies asked about my love life.  It's considered rude, I guess, to ask a young girl who might just be starving for a life partner about the presence of such a man.  But the first time Irene made the connection that I was a Knudson girl, Wendy's daughter, from her neck of the woods, the first words out of her mouth were 'So, you got a man?'  Tonight when asked questions that I would story up in my head to be answered like Nanny Wendy from Hook, instead, she was matter of fact and to the point.  Dark penciled eyebrows and no messing around. 

Just noticed and am still thinking about it.  I could be pretty happy to end up like Irene. 

Giving Up Explained

When I have something big to blog about, I have a tendency to hold off on updating my blog for a while because I wish I could update chronologically, fully, as things are happening.  I want to update with pictures and witty or thoughtful commentary.  Then I get back-logged and then don't want to post new items out of order.

This season's big news?



Oh, and my fingeres are red now...

Uhh what?

I'm freaking engaged, that's what.  

I met this boy and I love him and we're getting married.  Two months from yesterday.

Now I can post about all the goings-on with some context.

Soundtrack: C'est la Mort by The Civil Wars

This song was recommended to me by YouTube yesterday and I've probably listened to it over 50 times in the last 24 hours.  It's got that desperation of Phantom of the Opera's 'All I Ask Of You' and the sweet sentimental of 'Grow Old with You' from The Wedding Singer.  But it's got these haunting vocals, killer harmonies, and a message that sinks in so deep that I got light-headed the first 15 times on repeat. 

Whatever happens, wherever you go, in life and in death, don't go without me.

Giving up

I probably could have/should have/ would have posted this a while ago, but I'm a stubborn girl who hates to admit defeat. 



Let's just say losing isn't always a bad thing.

Hot Springs



Not looking forward to this



I really do loathe the cold.

I feel like that has to be a disclaimer to really appreciate how lovely it was to trek up to the Goldmyer Hot Springs yesterday.  I pretty much live in constant fear of potential cold and do my darnedest to prevent any from affecting my little body, so getting me out the door in the first place was a bit of a sell.

Once we got going, though, I realized that 1)  the trail riding form of mountain biking is WAY more fun and way LESS terrifying than downhill, slick-rock, and big jump mountain biking 2) there's a great sound I never knew of a bike tire slicing through the frozen layer on top of mud puddles, and 3) it is possible to continue on even as frostbite seems to be setting in to fingers and toes.



I've Arrived!



Four miles up a not too steep incline, the snow had gone from patchy to present and a little crispy on top.  We parked our bikes, checked in with the couple WHOSE JOB IT IS to man the electricity and real world access-free cabin at the Springs.  Lucky me, there was only one nakie in the hot springs (oh what, didn't I tell you it was clothing optional?) and I'm rill good at averting my eyes when man parts are sloshing about.

Goldmyer has three levels of hot pouring from the springs.  Super duper hot in the cave; hot tub hot just outside, bathtub hot just below.  I dabbled in hot tub, luxuriated in the cave.  Bathtub in the wilderness in the middle of November is a bad idea I would never consider.



On our way out, toasty on the inside and full on roast pork and PB&J Luna Bars (Porter knows how to pack a lunch), we passed a group of 12 backpackers headed up to the springs.  I'm just hoping they weren't thinking clothing optional. 



"12 naked backpackers in an enclosed bath tub!"



You win this time, Bratten.

First World Problems

Sometimes I go about hating on life and the little inconveniences that feel like they are destroying peace and ripping to shreds any semblance of joy and happiness.  Then one of the lyrics to this high school kid's homework assignment rap song pop into my head and I kick myself for my lack of perspective.  It doesn't matter that I missed my exit; it's not the end of the world that my socks are a bit rough even though I used fabric softener; that person eating with their mouth open or blowing their nose super loud doesn't actually affect me at all.

I've got some first world problems!

Going curly

Is it so much to ask for curls?  You know, the scrunch and dry style, footloose and fancy free, automatic body and charm waves.  Like Rachel McAdams has.  And Charlize Theron. And Keri Russell.  The list goes on.  People who know how to do their hair.

Call it a grass is greener syndrome, but my stick straight, won't hold a curl for more than 10 minutes without a bottle of Aquanet hair just doesn't fulfill my need for volume and personality.  I can only tease so much, you know!  I want to be able to get out of the shower, load up on whatever product is necessary and not worry about rain or sweat or humidity bringing me back to flat.

So last week I tried pin curls, which I haven't tried since Elementary school and, despite a very L'Oreal moment right when the pins came out, I think I could make this work. 

Pin-up girl

"Because I'm worth it!"

Getting wavy

If not there's always a perm. Not a corkscrew 'fro, a wavy perm. (Though if I'm totally honest, I still frequently look at my mom's kick-awesome perm from the early 90's and know that someday I will go there. Andlove it.)

Classy Knudsons



Isn't my mom a BABE?!

"And be not faithless, but believing."

I wonder how Thomas felt after he confirmed for himself that Christ had, in fact, returned.  Ashamed at his lack of faith?  Exultant at the presence of the Lord?

Several months back, I had a crisis of faith where I felt that I knew that God wanted me to be a temple worker and I just plain and simple didn't want to.  Call it lazy, selfish, or poor in spirit, I just plain didn't want to commit to six hours a week.  Every week.

But I did!  And I'm so glad I did. I'm the youngest on my shift by probably 30 years, so I'm like a pet to most of the little old ladies who have been doing this for years. My Tuesdays are now really long and sometimes require me to shimmy into a skirt or end a conference call in the temple parking lot, but it is amazing to feel the very real shift from working in the world and working in the house of the Lord.  I haven't seen or felt any miracles yet.  I don't feel like I've evaded guilt.  I just feel... good. 

Bumbershooting Ray

Beard bands are apparently all the rage in today's hip music scene.  Not always my jam, personally, but I stumbled onto Ray LaMontagne in something like February and haven't been able to live without his smoothly raspy voice since.  I love almost every song (which is unusual due to my music ADD). The guy used to work at a shoe factory and one day heard some song that gave him the crazy idea to become a musician. Not long later, he was at the Key Arena mainstage at Bumbershoot crooning to my heart in person.  Seriously, who is this guy?

I just love him. I love his lyrics.  I love his presence.  I love his way with guitar.  I even love his beard.

Here's a few of my favorites:

            
Seriously, how great is that beard.

King County Budget Madness

	Just finished a ravishing 2.5 minute appeal to the King County Budget committee asking them to streamline budget requests for human service organizations. This is where our communities' movers and shakers can be found. If you're mad at Wall Street, President Obama, or the local parks because now they charge for parking, this is where you can have an impact. You gotta, you oughta, you betta show your face where decisions are being made.