California Rocks My World - Literally

So obviously, yesterday was a rough day. I was so bothered with everything that I didn't even feel tired enough to attempt sleep until 2am. Once I did lay down I actually fell asleep quickly. However, a peaceful night's rest was not meant to be. Not long later I woke up to the sound of lamps and miscellaneous desk items rattling, and the floor and my bed shaking up and down. I'll admit, I was confused. I tried to think of the reasons why such motion would be happening while I rolled over and looked at the clock on my phone. 4:04am. The neighbors couldn't make the apartment floor jump like that and there is no highway close enough to be disturbed by semi-trucks trying to gain mileage while the roads are clear. Wait a minute (the light bulb above my head clicked on), I live in California now - land of earthquakes.

REALLY?? I wasn't sure if I was thinking straight, but it freaked me out anyway - I mean, with all the publicity on the news about earthquakes lately I immediately decided that the fastest and probably the safest way out of the apartment was through the sliding glass door on to the back porch. But I did hesitate; there's no exit off of the porch (by the way - the shaking had stopped by now). I was proud of my next move. Without hardly a thought I was on my knees on my bed and praying for safety and calmness, and for the ability to follow the Lord's guidance in case I needed to get out of the building. But still, I needed to know for sure what I had felt.

On went my bedside lamp and I bee-lined for my laptop. Yep. A quick search confirmed that LA had experienced a 4.4 earthquake at 4:04am. So, since my heart wouldn't stop pounding for the next 40 minutes I browsed the USGS website looking at maps and forecasts, earthquake records and definitions of terms.

Welcome to California.

When The Going Gets Tough - I Break Down

Once upon a time I had dreams of grandeur. As I entered my last year of college I talked about moving to California one day to be a successful band manager or talent scout...basically someone important to the entertainment world. However as I got involved in a few internships I managed to line up a pretty great job for myself upon graduation, and I left for Christmas break feeling pretty great about my future. I even got used to the idea of staying in Vegas for a few more years; it would give me a good foothold of experience before heading out to a larger market in California - which would happen eventually, just not then. Then the company downsized. And took back my offer of employment (I'm pretty sure I've talked about this before). Anyway, with the way things worked out California now seemed to be the best place to find a full-time job and I never felt like I shouldn't move. So, I moved.

I've been in LA for just over 48 hours now, and for the most part I am NOT enjoying it.

I don't like that most of my belongings are still in boxes because I have no where to put them even if I did unpack them. It's hard not having any friends to call upon when I'm bored and want to do something. I hate having to remember which side of the street gets cleaned on what day between what times, and waking up early to move my car before it gets towed out of the sweeper's way. I hate that there's heavy traffic nearly ALL day; it makes me want to stay inside all the time so I don't have to deal with it. It bothers me each time my brother and his wife comment that they no longer have space to do their P90X exercizes in the second bedroom, or say "I didn't know we were losing the WHOLE bedroom." YOU try moving an entire house into one room; it's not easy! The whole reason I moved in here was because it was offered to me; I hate, hate, HATE feeling like I'm a bother to someone else. I don't feel qualified for any position that I've heard about, and hesitate to send in my resume for fear of rejection (stupid, right?). I hate that I haven't memorized my new address yet; it's really not complicated. I want to go home, but when I think about going home I don't know if I mean Colorado or Las Vegas.

I hate that I hate California right now. This was supposed to be a good thing.

Not What You'd Expect...

I took a quick trip to Colorado this weekend, and was able to stop and stay in Hurricane, Utah at my Aunt and Uncle's house both on my way up and on my way back home. On the way home however, I took a few extra hours to relax at their house in the morning before I got in my car and finished up the drive. While there my Aunt had a repair man come over to fix their dishwasher. She left him in the kitchen while she got ready for the day, and I wandered into the living room to use their computer. That was when the repair man's cell phone rang. Really loud. And definitely not with a ring tone I'd expect to hear coming from a 25-35 year old single (at least, no ring on the finger) man. I was glad I was in the other room, because, how could I have resisted laughing when I heard Miley Cyrus singing "The Climb" blaring from the kitchen??

Shelby!

I recently introduced you to a niece of mine. Tonight, I'd like to introduce another. This is Shelby:


While I realize this isn't the most *ahem, flattering picture of the little cutie, I absolutely adore it! You ask this two year old to smile for the camera, and you typically get a cheese-ball expression such as the one you just witnessed. I LOVE it.

Anyway, a few days ago Shelby celebrated her third birthday. You might believe she's only three because of how tiny she is, but if you listened to her speak you might think she's, well, thirteen. It's pretty amusing. Here's the latest conversation I had with her when I called to wish her a Happy Birthday:

Me: Hi Shelby! Happy Birthday! How old are you now?
Shel: I'm three. I'm not two anymore. I'm three.

(skipping the part where I sing Happy Birthday in Spanish...)

Me: What are you doing today?
Shel: I'm getting a fairy cake; we're going to eat it at night.
Me: After dinner?
Shel: Yep.

(She then proceded to tell me that some of her friends were coming. They weren't. But this is where it gets good...)

Me: Well that sounds like fun!
Shel: Uh-huh! And on your birthday I'll give you a Strawberry Shortcake cake and a party for your friends. Except, you don't have any friends.
Me: ... (laughing and changing the subject), Guess what? I'm going to see you in 3 days!
Shel: No. Four days.
Me: No, I'll be there in three days.
Shel: No! Four days!
Me: Well, can I see you in three days instead because it's sooner?
Shel: Bye.

Funniest part is I only today realized that it really was going to be four days until I saw her. She obviously didn't want to waste her time arguing with me when she knew she was right!

I want to be like that couple...

It seems like wherever I look these days I see couples. I like to observe couples who have been together for various amounts of time, and oftentimes I feel like I want to emulate them:

I want to be like that couple I saw standing on a corner of downtown Salt Lake City when I was driving out of town - fairly young, no kids (at least, not yet), with backpacking backpacks strapped on their backs and a map in their hands. They were setting out on an adventure to wherever they desired with only the most basic necessities and each other to rely on.

I want to be like that couple I saw somewhere on the stretch of higway between Provo and St. George driving a classic car with the top down. Sporting a bit of salt and pepper gray in his hair, the husband donned shades and easily maneuvered the car around the gentle curves of the road while his wife leaned back in her seat with a soft smile on her lips and kept one hand lightly on her sun hat while enjoying the warm Autumn breeze caressing her face. They had already traveled so many roads together, some probably rougher than others, but now were at a calm point in their lives where their children were probably grown and raising families of their own. They fully enjoyed each other's company.

I want to be like that couple that lives downstairs and across the walkway from me. Old, white haired and slightly bent, the husband always leaves the driver's seat of their automobile quickly to open his wife's door and help situate her walker. He sends her ahead of him down the narrow path while he locks up the car, and then quickly shuffles past her to ensure that he has the front door of their home open and waiting for her to cross the threshold. He anticipates her every move, and would never miss an opportunity to serve the one he loves.

I want to be like those couples.