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.

Fall Felicity

Fall is here. Last year, I was surprised/confused/angry/devastated/immobilized at the cold, wet, dark.  This year, I'm prepared.  I am actively going out and doing, even when it looks like midnight at 6 pm.  And, for the times that I just can't, I've reactivated my Netflix account for some quality inside time [I'd deactivated it months ago because it was sunny outside and I couldn't justify screen time].  My inaugural watch was Episode 2 of the seriously awesome and at least for the first few episodes, very uncomfortable college drama, Felicity [I still remember that part where the whole dorm hears her tape about her feelings for Ben and it was like preparing for a scary scene in a horror movie waiting for the moment of pure awkwardness in episode 3].  I was prompted to find the Pilot the night before Netflix could get their act together and my account recharged, so I had to watch it on one of those Asian pirated video sites, see below (loving this anime cartoons and Chinese character translations. It's a great frame to Keri Russell's oh so out of control and amazing hair).

Episodes 2 and 3 reminded me of two things: One, how quickly new Freshmen make best friends. Brooke and I decided, two weeks into being blindly matched as freshman roommates that we were best friends, and have remained close since.  Many of my best friends from college I met my freshman year.  There's something about everyone starting brand new that the slots for good friends aren't filled yet.  Felicity also met all the stars of the show in the first few episodes (except the coffee shop guy, who I'm excited to meet later this fall).


Secondly, how about these turtlenecks, eh?  What says fall better than heavy cable knits?

In honor if Fall, Felicity and her many, many sweaters, I pulled my one cable knit mock turtleneck sweater out and finished episode 4. People (and by people, I mean I) just don't wear these enough.

Good hair and good company

Great news: I'm not hating my hair today.  I don't most days, really, but there are enough times I just have no control over greasiness, part, or ends curling in or out or curling at all that I can't claim to love love love it all the time.  But today is a good hair day.

Also to report: I successfully drove to Utah straight through the night, gallivanted with some seriously spectacular friends and newborns, attended General Conference, and drove on back last night without dying, all with this guy:

I love me some sunshine, Fall leaves, healthy nostalgia, and a dreamboat to take it all in with.

Happy October!

Let's go Sounders [2010 Season...I think]

My dark, camera phone shot

2010-2011 Season was one of Major League Soccer.  And by that, I mean I went to two games.  Quite a leap up from the zero I had going before now.  [I went to one Reál Salt Lake game a few years ago on a date, but I was honestly too distracted/unnerved by the pounding, screaming, clapping Go Big or Go Home cheer zone at the far end of the stadium that I only vaguely remember the game.  I had a big crush on my date too, I remember that.  Not so helpful now.]

The first game, marking my return to soccer was on the dime of the law firm representing the Sounders.  The one semester I worked for BYU catering (and two football games I wasn't assigned to the dishroom), I worked in the white tents outside the stadium set up for the bigwig donors and sports fanatics. I thought that was fancy. At CenturyLink Field, Sounders Club fans get a full spread before the game, peach cobbler and hot dogs at half time, and more ginger ale than one could ever know what to do with.

Someone else's class shot of confetti!

Besides the pita sandwiches and shepherd's pie, and the action-packed 100 minutes (including more injury time than I think was really necessary) of play, my favorite part about the game was confetti. Every time the Sounders score (3 times this time), huge confetti machines shoot blue and silver through the air. It rained on the 36,070 people in the stadium 9no idea where I got that number) and what made it to the field left the tattered-looking turf sparkling in the afternoon sun. Who cares if you don't like sports, is there a person on earth who does not get excited by confetti?

I don't have to settle for just confetti, even though I would, because I do enjoy watching soccer. While I understand many Americans' complaints that soccer is like watching a really long, very expensive game of playground keep-away (especially when the ball gets stuck in no-mans land mid-field with wussy players who can't seem to kick long without turning the ball over), this is ultimately what makes it so accessible. Most pro soccer players do wear cleats, and have above average in sex appeal, but in the end, stinky, barefoot 10-year-olds in the streets of Brazil and Benin are playing the same game David Beckham gets paid millions to play, and that we (or someone else, rather) pay to watch. There are few complicated rules, you can almost always tell where the ball is, anyone with decent lung capacity can play (so I guess I'm ruled out). Worldwide fun. Just not enough time for commercials.



"You suck asshole!"

My second game of the season came at the tail end of a Food Lifeline fundraiser where we passed out Sounders bags to fans while soliciting donations and Kicking Down Hunger, or something like that.  One of my favorite things about professional sports are sports junkies, and how they seem to believe that their lives rely on the outcome of this game, or this kick, or goal, or whatever the case may be.  Suffice it to say, the pre-game bag hand-out was full of my favorite kind of super fans. 

I don't know if it's common among all sports or even all pro soccer teams to have elevated crowd participation from just cheering for the good to cheering for the good and booing for the unpleasant, then taking it up a notch and going from booing at bad calls and poor sportsmanship to chanting, all 30,000+ people in the stadium feedback like: YOU SUCK ASSHOLE!

Seriously?  You suck asshole?  Did the accountant, and college student, and nerdy mom behind me just shout that?  I'm all for speaking your mind but, let's keep it together here, people.  I was particularly aware of the bizarre poor sportsmanship echoing throughout the stadium my second game because I was there with my 12-year-old cousin who I'm sure is no stranger to profanity, but who I feel some desire to protect from potty-mouths. 

All the same, I'm sold on soccer :)

Golden Girls

I don't suppose anyone else ever has the thought that perhaps old friends who you haven't seen for a while and you don't rarely talk to (because really, Facebook and blog stalking, as informative as they are, aren't actually talking) aren't really friends anymore.  What is a friend, if not someone who you talk to on a regular basis?  I had a thought like this last week, in preparation for old friends from college coming into town to visit.  I was a bit worried for a moment, in all honesty, that I'd signed up for three days with some very nice people who were really just a notch above acquaintances but who held more expectation of connection and thus, a more awkward forcing of fun, contentment, and intimate conversation. 

Boy, was I wrong, and thank heavens too, because a weekend with non-friends just isn't blog-worthy, and heaven knows I've been needing to kickstart myself back into blogland.  And more important that that even, heaven knows that I need me some really great friends. 

We hadn't looped out of the airport before giggles, 'Remember When's, high voices, and 'What if's filled the car.  I'm still recovering from Friday night's sleepover-style 3am bedtime and a full weekend of Seattle fun, Diet Coke runs, and catching up.  These are friends who I can laugh with, and cry with (thanks a lot The Help), and who it's worth filling in the blanks of events and goings-on between the last time we all got together and now, even though it means lots of talking. 

Rest assured, I have some really wonderful friends.  Planning on keeping them at least til we look like these classy ladies:

I hope they call me on a mission (and give me a mullet)

I'm not sure if I ever posted this video I made for my dad's birthday while I was on my mission, but I just stumbled across it and man, that mullet is out of control (esp. @ 1:55). Missions are great.