life decisions

Recently I've made a big life decision that has brought me great joy. Seriously...every time I think about it I get all warm and fuzzy inside! Very reminiscent of how whiskey warms your insides but without the terrible aftertaste. And the life decision is....
Screw you guys...I'm going home! I'll be in Seattle until June when this program is over and then my little country ass is moving back to Cashmere! yay! woop woop! high fives for awesomeness!
It's not that I don't like Seattle! I love it here...I just love it at home more. And then there's the fact that I still call Cashmere home; and when I visit I say, I'm going back home. Home. Seriously it makes me want to cry tears of joy.
Last night I was on the phone with my friend/ex whom we shall call B. I told him about this new awesome life decision and he just laughed at me! I believe his exact words were "I always told you that you weren't a big city girl!" Damn straight I'm not! I get anxiety about driving places, I hate paying for parking, I hate fighting for parking. I hate overpriced cocktails. I'm not a big fan of men in tighter jeans than me. The brand Affliction should be banned by the FDA as bad for the health of our society. I mean seriously people...just because some douche on Jersey Shore wears it does not make it cool. Seriously. icky poo poo.
So the final decision can be summed as follows: I will give Seattle until June to seduce me into staying here with things like a great job with a fabulous pay check, or finding the love of my life (like a pro athlete...that would be best). When that time comes if there is no good reason to stay, I will be throwing on my best flannel, filling the Bug with designer duds, and takin' my country ass back to the sticks!
BEST decision ever.

Today I take off with kellbell for a tropical vaca full of relaxation and cold beers. Scuba and beaches.
I had a tough time sleeping last night in anticipation of the big day. But...my last dreammeries (memories of dreams) were of me getting to meet Britney Spears. My idol. So today is going to be a good day :)

Day One

Holy jeebus batman! I'm one day down...and feeling lighter already! The definitely threw us some curveballs (I mean really?! Secured transactions and sales combo?? Who'd of guessed that would occur). But you've gotta just roll with the punches.
The first nine essays are in the bag. Only nine more substantive and then six mini professional responsibility essays (ethics). Which I need to study NOW because I'm feeling uneasy about that whole section and at this point, wouldn't be surprised if I failed it. So off I go...
hi ho
hi ho

The Final Countdown

(yes I mean the band song that you all heard in high school. and the original it was based off. please hum or whistle along)

Bar exam in T-minus 40 hours. I'm one part terrified, and two parts ready to get this shiizzzow on the rizzode.

Beaches of Maui in ONE WEEK. I'm 110% excited for: beach, grandpa's condo, scuba diving, sea turtles, hammerhead shark dive, BBQin' on the beach, and fresh seafood. yes yes yes yes yes
http://hphresort.com/index.html

couldn't do it without ya

Here is the a list of the things that I could not survive bar-prep without: (and we all know my love for lists)

1. Home - Because it's calm and beautiful. Because there were deer hanging out in my back yard. Because it's the place I come to when I need support.
2. Parents - Seriously...they don't even make me empty the dishwasher right now because I have "enough on my plate." How did I get so lucky to have these two?
3. Cooper - my sweet golden bucket-o-love
4. morning pots of coffee(I should just get this stuff injected in at this point) - on a timer so they're ready at 6:30am with me
5. Honey Bunches of Oats
6. Late night phone calls from Erin Ditto updating me on our "traits I want in a hypothetical future husband" list we're making on facebook or just to make sure I'm watching So You Think You Can Dance
7. Grandpa & Paula while I was in Seattle
8. In-home "the Firm" workout VHS's from the 80's. fabulous
9. Stephenie reminding me that I signed up for this shitstorm and shouldn't really bitch about it
10. Ian while I was in Seattle - for the runs and the happy hours
11. The fact that I'll be in Maui a week from tomorrow. (another reason to thank Grandpa and parents)

Usually I don't like odd numbered lists, but I feel like this is appropriate for some reason. 11 things I couldn't live without right now.

best text ever

So in an effort to reach out to those who love me (or purport to love me), I texted Kelly Donahue today. He cheered with me at GU and is just a general love of my life...despite the fact that he calls me a dirty dike and my nickname for him is gayface. Cause sometimes I can kinda be a like a guy. and he's a male cheerleader. Nuff said. So here is the exchange of texts:

Me: "I miss you gayface."
Kelly D: "I'm still sorting through the myriad sexually-tense epochs of our relationship and realizing that our only common denominators are whiskey, cheerleading, and otherwise questionably androgynous personalities...so yeah, I pretty much miss you too."

My response was not so witty because I'm unable to think straight at the moment but nevertheless: "Maybe its my good looks and charming personality. Maybe its your massive hugs. But its love."

Shout-out to my Kelly D. The former cheerleader turned male-nurse. totally straight yet so maybe not so straight. Walker of the sexual line. Thrower of the girls. Catheter-implanting Kelly. Loves loves loves

UPDATE.....Kellbell's response:

Kelly D: "Hold the phone bitch! You get good looks AND charm...and I get HUGS?? with all due respect your honor, go fuck yourself."

Me: "Well I would give you the others if you deserved them! Fine Kel...I'll concede the personality and the good-enough-looks to hold sexual tension without action. Which I mean, the GU basketball team got so I'm not sure what that means these days."

Lovely.

Who do you think you are

So I watch the bachelorette occasionally (every Monday). Originally, I hated the series. Nat and Jenn (and later Shaun) got me into the season with Jason from Seattle. I was totally smitten by this guy! Other than the way he went in for a kiss...which totally gave me the willies. And then he shit on all that is holy and dumped Melissa, the beautiful and lovely Melissa, for this stupid Molly chick. Cause he like, loved her more or something idiotic like that. this just backed-up my whole theory about guys and thinking with their *woohoos* rather than their heads and being selfish buttheads. So I stopped watching. I had a bad first impression. Plus Chris Harrison like totally irks me but whatevs.
THEN I was hanging out with my friend, a guy no less, who watched it and he wrangled me into watching it because he couldn't watch it alone...I'm presuming. It's against all that is manly man. And I'm hooked once again. Ali is so super cute! and looks like a real girl! Ah....refreshing. Roberto may be the real reason I keep up with the show :) If he's not picked and is the next bachelor...consider my tape sent! Any hoots. to my point. I watched Monday's episode last night on my computer (at 9:30 because I didn't finish studying until then). And now, thanks to Frank, I'm back to believe that love is mostly for the birds. (Leave it to the birds and the bees, I want money! 80's song...) So here's to Frank and Nicole:
Dear Frank,
You shit on love when you left the bachelorette. Ali LOVED you! We all totally saw it. What is worse is that you made us sit through your break up on national television!! I mean, that convo is bad enough when I'm in it for reals, live and up close. I don't need to also volunteer to see it. It was like a train wreck though and I couldn't stop. But, I must say that at least you didn't pull a Jason and wait till it was all over. Cause then I swear I would have abandoned the whole series! maybe. And at least you cried. Because men who hold it back are jackasses (I'm looking at you Tucci).
So thanks but no thanks.
And one more thing, Nicole is not that cute. Like, not cute at all. Just saying....

Study buddy

The man himself...Cooper. AKA coop-de-loop, cooper pooper, or just Poopers.

The boys and I on the KellBell

there aint no place like home

So I was sitting in Seattle, dreaming of Cashmere, when I said to myself....self, I think it's beyond time to click together my ruby slippers and go to where my heart it. And I dun did it. Don't get me wrong I love Seattle! But I was in need of convenience more than anything. I came home to study for the bar because: (I love lists)
1. home cooked meals
2. Cooper
3. Mom & Dad (yes...that was ordered intentionally)
4. elliptical, treadmill, bike, weights and yoga DVDs in house
5. Pete, Steph, Brett, Aaron (& sometimes Jared) (& less often Marcus)
6. Waking up and not to worry about packing a lunch and finding a parking space
7. Libraries are cold and full of law students. ew.
8. Cashmere. Cashmere. Cashmere.
I dont know what it is about this place that just makes me feel like the world is rotating at a slower paceand that everything really will be alright. If I were a going to make up a fake religion (cough cough) Cashmere would be Mecca. Spokane would be purgatory.
I had a friend tell me that studying for the bar wasn't as bad as everyone said it was going to be....it was worse. And she was right. My biggest pet peeve right now is people comparing it other exams or what they've experienced. "Well I worked a 10 hour shift yesterday." (Yeah...waiting tables. brain surgery (yes I'm an asshole.)) "Oh yeah entrance exams for nursing school were a bitch!" or "It's not like you spend every second studying....you can come get wasted with us." I'm sure your nursing exams did suck ass. But it's not the same. I don't need sympathy I need empathy. And you're right I dont study every waking second but I sure as hell think about this upcoming event in my ever ass-sucking life every freakin second. So while you're just having to go to work for 8 hours, I'm bogged down with 30 topics running through my already overcrowded mind. And no, studying for 10 hours is NOT the same as working retail for 10 hours. I'm not saying that I'm better for this...believe me. I'm only pointing out that it is most definitely not.the.same.
ok so enough with the soapbox
My wonderful and always-missed cousin Keith will be here tomorrow with his lovely Polish-German girlfriend Eva! Keith and Eva live in Germany near the Ramstein airforce base. Cause Keith like, saves lives and shit. I mean I think he loads cargo planes and what-not but he's a goddamn hero! So I have that to look forward to. Should be good times for them. I'll try not to participate more than I should. Cause you know I gots to make it rain. I know I'm a bundle of sunshine right now...you don't have to tell me. My volatile mood is sexy...I know that also. Just me being me...spewing rainbows and gumdrops.
My new super-power is that I have the ability to make myself physically ill. He's the count so far:
4 cold sores
1 phlem-producing cough and scratchy throat.

unfunny

The bar exam. Wow....who would have thunk the day would actually come where I'd be studying for that?! Life events such as this are surreal and beyond my capacity to fathom how they arrive so quickly! First it was high school graduation. Then college (dorm rooms, 3 hours of sleep, vending machines, boys!). Then college graduation. Then law school. Then I turned 25!!!! (quarter of a century!).then law school graduation. and now I'm holed-up in the Seattle U law library beating myself over the face with a Barbri book thinking....how in god's name did I get myself into this shit storm?! I mean, where did my life go so terribly wrong?! Why am I not on some tropical island teaching Dutch tourists how to scuba dive and making little cucumber sandwiches for the dive boat?! Because, like, that would be WAY better than this BS. Another equally as plausible question is, why didn't I strive for my MRS. degree while at GU and marry some poor schmuck catholic engineer and have poor schmuck catholic babies? Stay-at-home mom I could totes do....as long as I established my alcohol dependency right after breast feeding time was over.
You know I'm desperate when I'd take children over my current situation. ew....babies. ew. ick. Ok changed my mind. I'd rather be a lawyer. So I better get back to making that sorta maybe possible....I'll reappear in my own life in T-minus three weeks....

trial and food errors

So week one turned into "week one" about half way through wednesday...with Brad asking me incessantly: "is that on your diet??" with a I-know-its-not-but-I'm-asking-to-be-a-jerk look on his face. To which I snidely replied...hell yes it is. (lies.)
Wednesday was a cardio day - 40 to 45 minutes of just cardio of my choice. this happened to work perfect since I had my last law school final EVER and my post-final ritual is going for a run. So with a huge smile on my face and the weight of the world off my shoulders, I took to the centennial trial for the last time. It was a fabulous run in the beautiful sunshine. And then I drank beer and ate nachos.
Ooops.
I tried to stay on track with my workouts at least. After drinking and eating all night wednesday, Jennie and I woke up early (10am) and went to the gym together before our families came into town. Thursday is a repeat of Tuesday: arms circuit. Instead of walking on the treadmill at an incline though, I ran. Pretty sure my sweat smelled like bud light and hamburger. icky poo. Jennie smiled at me every time I ran by while she was on the treadmill though and it kept me going!
Thursday was another day full of eating and drinking (and weight loss is 80% what you eat...so yeah I'm not any lighter...). I don't even really want to recall what I ate. Something about a Chalupa bar and tequila shots... BUT I got in an extra cardio session shakin' my naughty body on the dance floor! Thursday was the annual grad boat cruise on Lake Coeur D'Alene. good times good times
Friday was supposed to be another gym date with my partner in all things sweat: Jennie...but she bailed on me! Instead of going back to bed though, I went by myself. My mom and aunt Michele biked 162 miles (yes- on road bikes) from Wenatchee to Spokane. So as I hauled my lazy booty out of bed that morning I thought to my self, "self: if they can do that, you can survive an hour at the gym." and gee golly whiz...I lived.
Friday was my favorite workout thus far! It was plyometric lower-body circuit. Here's the gist:
walking lunges: 15-20 per leg (which equals 30-40 total!!! you can guess which number I did...) with 15lbs total
box jumps: 15 no weights
Lateral leaps: 20 total
step ups: 15 per leg no weights
one-armed dead lifts: 20 per leg 15 lbs
calf raises: 20 no weights
The cardio in between was alternating stationary bike and treadmill. I tell ya...those walking lunges will murder you after the first couple circuits! and then straight to box jumps! This to me was like crossfit without a clock. Which is so much nicer for your body.
Saturday I was supposed to do the ever-dreadful HIIT (high intensity interval training) cardio routine...which I skipped because I had slightly more important things to accomplish. Like graduating from law school. I've been alternating between: (1) Damn it Jim! I'm a doctor not a scientist!; (2) that's doctor Wehmeyer to you; and (3) hi I'm a doctor how can I help you? - much the amusement of my family (weird?! I'm boasting about something! like OMG...never).
Saturday and Sunday we got in a little cardio just by moving me out of Spokane...so that kinda counts. Then tonight (sunday) I actually got my butt in gear! The program said to do 40-45 minutes of stationary bike: 5 minutes pace, 1 minute sprint; 5 min pace, 2 min sprint. So I did 40 minutes of that and about fell off the bike at the end! Dripping with sweat! So overall, for a "party" weekend, I'm proud of my effort!
Even though I think I did ok, I'm going to call this "week one" and start with a real week next week. Cause then I can buckle down and have no excuse to deviate that extensively (other than the fact that I'm moving to Seattle! party time! ....jk jk)

Day Two: lower body

Today was the second day of my body makeover! So far so good :)
I must say that my yummiest meal is breakfast! Blueberries in your oatmeal = parade in my mouth! And I also get egg whites so I'm left feeling all kinds of full and satisfied! I'm not used to a big breakfast so this is kinda nice. Instead of going straight to the gym I figured it would be more beneficial for my studies to go to the library for a little while and then after lunch go do my workout. if I don't manage to get the lib until 11am or noon and know that I have to sit here, uninterrupted, until after the sun goes down I get: (1) depressed/sad/whiny; and (2) I quit after like 5 hours. So instead I did library from 8:30pm - 3:30pm, then gym and now I'm back at the lib. BUT, on the bright side, this is the last night that Chastec Library will ever steal from me! so ha! (and obvi I'm working my fingers to the grind since I'm blogging...) So back to my workout
Today was legs day....so here's how it went: 4 rounds of....
5 minutes bike (warm up)
(1) 45 degree leg press: 60 lbs, 15 reps
(2) plie squats: 22.5 lbs, 20 reps
(3) seated leg curl: 35 lbs, 15 reps
(4) laying leg curl: 30 lbs, 15 reps each leg
(5) standing calf raises: body weight 15 reps
(6) seated calf raises: 20 lbs, 15 reps.
After each circuit I did 5 minutes hard on the bike at level 10 while attempting to pump my legs with the rhythm of the music. Unlike yesterday with arms, I was literally tasting my own sweat by the time I got off the bike the second round. Arms were hard but this was harder. My legs felt like jello during the curls and presses, and my calves...lets just say that if I have any mobility in my calf muscles tomorrow I'll be thankful! Thank god tomorrow is a 40-45 minute cardio day. The plan said that if you want an extra push, on a leg day don't alternate cardio machines and just bike because it'll tax your leg muscles that much more. Yep. They were right.
The bright spot was when I got home and made my yummy peanut butter/whey protein/plain yogurt shake! And now I'm about to have my chicken, broccoli, salad, tortilla dinner. It's actually pretty delicious.
Well...off to do something with myself that pertains to wills & trusts :) Thanks for listening

Muscle & Fitness

Hello to everyone who still checks my blog even though I haven't written anything in a long time! I have a new goal and I want this blog to be the place where I talk about it so that you can all keep me in check! I need someone to keep me honest :)
This past weekend my friend Edwina and I decided that 9 days left in Spokane was too many, so we took off for the Wenatchee Valley. Edwina to visit Rachel and Matt Murphy, and me to visit my fam damly. Mom had all these new magazines called Muscle & Fitness Hers on the coffee table. She had saved one just for me that has a 4-week workout and nutrition guide. Here's the breakdown:
Mondays: Upper body free weights - 4 circuits. 5 minutes of varying cardio in between each circuit
Tuesday: Lower body free weights - same set up as above.
Wednesday: hard cardio 40-45 minutes
Thursday: Upper body free weights
Friday: lower body plyometrics
Saturday: HIIT cardio: high intensity interval training, in a 2-1 ratio. So like on the bike, 2 minutes pace, 1 minute sprint. 20-25 minutes. then 20 minutes of basic cardio
Sunday: cardio - 5 minutes pace, 1 minute sprint.
I figured that every week i could make an excuse as to why I should wait another week to start this thing, so I'm just starting it now. I know I still have another final and its graduation weekend so my nutrition plan will be hard to follow (if I could learn a bit of self-control that would be great!) but I really wanted to try this! I love weight training and I'm much better at losing weight when I have a GOAL and someone telling me what to do!
DAY ONE
Today was upper body free weights days. I woke up an hour late because I can't figure out how to work the alarm clock apparently, so my 7:30am breakfast came around 8:45: blueberries in oatmeal & 4 egg whites. I added a few cups of black coffee. After about an hour of studying I went to the gym and did my circuit:
barbell bench press: 30lb, 15 reps
overhead press: 20lb, 15 reps
lat pull down: 45lb, 15 reps
standing bicep curls: 8lb, 15 reps
tricep curls laying down on bench: 8lb, 15 reps
exercise ball crunches: to fail
reverse ab curls: to fail
plank ball butt lifts: to fail (which was quickly accomplished)
5 minutes varying cardio: bike, jump rope, walking at an incline, bike
And I did that four times through! It was a fabulous workout and only took about an hour. The gym is in the undergrad campus so I was one of maybe 5 people at the gym this morning. It was fabulous!
Well it's passed noon and I've managed to procrastinate studying a little bit more...so I should probably do something "wills & trusts" oriented. Check back tomorrow around this time for the lower body day!

the games people play

If life is truly a game, who determines the winner? Is winning determined categorically or as a whole? On the flip side, if life isn't a game but rather a journey, why does success hinge on so much strategy? ugh....I hate games. I think that we should name Scotty as the Life Judge: cause my daddy loves me and thinks I'm special.
Maybe it's the lazy side of me but I really hate all types of games. Theoretical as well as board, card, guessing, and ball-required. It isn't the game that I dislike, its the start-up that makes my eyes roll and my body slump. Once the ball is tossed in the air, my over-competitive side kicks in and I love the game! I'll play with gusto (weather permitting). But, as you may have guessed, board games are not the topic of his post. It's the games in life that I need to vent about.
Have you ever postponed calling someone because you didn't want to seem to eager? Have you ever really like a person until they called you too often and made themselves too available? I know I have. (shocking) It's all fun and games until you're on the receiving end of your own strategy. I used to be great at this game! I could lure a guy in and spit him out all in the span of a week. My old boss called me the venus fly trap after I went out with a client's son a few times and then never called him again. In my defense, I felt bad about it! There was just no spark. But when it's me or my girlfriends that are being tossed around....well you can imagine my dismay. WTF?! I no me gusta the game and have called it on account of rain! No more game! Whatever happened to just telling someone how you feel?! Will it always be about the chase? the victory of having someone in the palm of your hand?
With traditional games there is a winner and a loser. If you'd asked me a year ago if I'd ever "won" a relationship game I probably would have replied, "ummm like duh. have you seen my lately?!" (humility is my best quality). But now, I think I've decided that there is no real winner per se. The "winner" remains unable to form stable relationships with others and the "loser" uses this experience to form another layer of armor - armor in tact for the next time a potential mate comes along. I formed my own armor years ago; but now I have to look in the mirror and ask, have my actions caused others to put up walls? To not let people in? Damn I sure hope not...cause my walls are (finally) starting to crumble...and that whole process took years. Maybe the games stop with maturity. Girls mature quicker than boys. Therefore, I should date older men. Imma keep that in mind...

For the record, this vent has (almost) nothing to do with my current relationship status. It stems from a convo I had with a good friend from undergrad. boys boys boys. good men are hard to find.

my momma, my friend

My lovely mother is coming to visit me tomorrow! yay! So of course I tag her in my facebook status, announcing my excitement over her visit. Mom can be a little technologically slow, so I was surprised when she wrote back, "I love you too Punky!" She calls me punky after Punky Brewster: my childhood look-a-like. In response to this cyber exchange of love, a family friend of ours posted that she hopes her and her young daughter can have this type of relationship in the future. So I have (finally) reached the point of this blog post: how did we do it?
It hasn't always been sunshine and rainbows for Mom and I. When I was little I was loud, opinionated, and simply defiant at times. And as a teenager I could almost literally cut you with the tone of my voice. After one of my episodes my Mom sought the advice of my great-grandmother Vern. Vern was a special woman...and that's kind of an understatement. She broke the boundaries of feminism by attending college and graduated from Western Washington University in the 1920's. Straight off the family farm in Soap Lake, WA, she always looked ahead. Vern and my great-grandfather Jerry opened Wehmeyer's TV and Appliance in the 1950's. And rumor has it, Jerry was not the brains of the operation. But he thought he was. Vern, the genius, figured out a way to make Jerry feel like he in control, when really he was just the male figure standing behind her. Smart smart smart. HUGE digression....
Vern told my mother something that has become a sort of theme between my parents and I. She said, "whatever you do, don't break her spirit." Again an example of Vern's ability to guide her loved ones without controlling them. And that is what my parents did. I learned to channel my energy into dance and acting. Something I never mastered is controlling the tone of my voice. I can be kind of....how you say....snotty? bratty? rotten-no-good-spoiled-(etc.)? I'm a work in progress alright! leave me alone! ---it's because I can't hide my judgment of others. And quite frankly, I don't want to!
My family and I have always done things together. Whether it be snow skiing, water skiing, hiking (ugh), or [insert outdoor activity here] we always did it as a family. This disconnect from technology, and insertion into silence, forces you to communicate. Communication is a trick that came naturally to me - once you get me talking it's hard to shut me up. But seriously, I think this has to be a huge part of our friendship. We go on walks together for hours...just talking. We sit in the hot tub for hours....just talking (and sharing some beers). I know I can tell her anything without her judging me. (though we still haven't had the "virginity" talk. and we will NEVER have that talk). We have a safety-zone understanding.
Being around my mom also makes me a better person. I strive to be more like her. I'm notoriously my father's daughter - and believe me there is nothing wrong with that! It's just that, sometimes I wish I were gentle and feminine like my lil' Kell Bell. I think she's rubbed off on me. And every time I see her stand up for herself, I think maybe I have rubbed off on her also. She's just like the most welcoming, huggable person on god's green earth. She was made to be a mother. With her quiet and kind disposition, you can't help but love and respect her. She is literally the only person I don't judge! And this is why we have a great relationship:

communication
respect
judgment-free
**the hot tub**
wine tasting

excuses, excuses

I feel like in my never-ending attempt to diversify my workout, all i wind up with is another problem. Another reason why it's not working. I promise that they are legit excuses! Here's the rundown:
Crossfit - wound up in the hospital. unable to stand erect. unable to roll over in bed without assistance. ouchie poo.
Hot yoga - slipping hip joint. too painful to run more than a mile. pulsing pain at night.
spinning - I hate it. I'll throw a big whiny fit when approached with the idea of spinning class.

So I've decided to continue hot yoga for the amount of classes I've pre-purchased. I like it so much I believe that it deserves another shot....but this hip pain is seriously annoying! But if it continues I'm pulling out. Like an addict going to rehab: I quit. I'll go back to alternating days of running, elliptical, and weights. At least then I'll get to read a magazine while elliptical-ing :) Gots to keep current on fashion news while attempting to maintain a size that designers make!

A true American family

I think I threw up in my mouth a little bit today at the mall. When you think that this type of crap is only seen in left-wing-type cities where the sun shines just a little too often (like the blonde hair dye has like totally seeped into my like super thin skull)....you'd be wrong. Background story as to why a diligent law student like myself was at the mall in the middle of the day on a Wednesday:

Heidelberg is this saturday! Hberg is a banquet held at the end(ish) of the year where the law school gets together, hands out awards, and drinks too much wine....which leads to inappropriateness on the dance floor. So of course this is my favorite event of the year! And since it's my last opportunity to embarrass myself in front of professors, lawyers, and (eek!) judges, I made the executive decision that I needed a great dress from Nordstrom. Ah Nordstrom. Remember that scene from Friends where Monica takes Ross's new girlfriend shopping at Bloomingdales and Pheobe says to her: "that's like cheating on Rachel in her place of worship!" - that is how I feel about Nordy's. Anyhooshier...where was I. Oh yes, the hideous sadness that was this new American phenomenon.
As I was paying for parking I looked to my left and saw her: A thirty-something woman in spandex booty shorts; her overly-tanned and rail thin legs making huge strides across the mall. Her hair was perfectly died a great shade of blonde and curled meticulously in that California wave that I so envy. Her face looked like it had a been freshly injected with botox. Perfect makeup. - you may ask: (1) what is so bad about that? and/or (2) how did you see her face so clearly? And I'll answer you...I saw her face when she turned to yell at one of her frumpy, overweight (borderline obese) children in tow. One boy and one girl being drug behind her like embarrassing garbage. The boy had a sucker in his mouth. The little girl had ROLLS. her pudgey hand being held by her mother's dainty hand, rock-sized diamond perfectly fit onto that one finger that supposedly means forever. I mean, REALLY!!?!! How is it that this woman has so much time to obviously go to the gym, the salon, the mall, the plastic surgeons, etc. and doesn't have time to pack her children a nutritious lunch?! Have you no shame?!
What is wrong with our culture is that we've put WAY too much emphasis on what we look like on the outside and not who we are to the world around us. Of course I'm throwing this woman under the bus in a huge way: those kids could have not been hers or she could have been a nanny. Whatever. The point I'm making is that if parents think they're so entitled to raise children, maybe they should be less selfish with their time. I know mothers who stay in great shape without compromising the care for their children. I had one such mother. Their is an obsession with age and looks that I just find repulsive. I want to scream at these woman: "act your age! you're not fooling anyone by shopping in the Juniors section and getting facelifts! you don't look younger! you look like you're trying to be younger!" christ almighty people...
So it's clear that I have two beefs with this woman: the first being her lack of age-appropriate clothing and the second being the health of her children in direct contrast to herself. It blows my mind that children are obese. Doesn't anyone go play outside anymore?! So so so so so avoidable. so so so so so sad.
Put down the Botox needles. Pick up a string-cheese. Hand it to your obese child.
I'll try not to slip and knock myself out on the way down off my soapbox.
that is all

My happy place

I haven't written a post in the past few weeks because I haven't had any real inspiration as to a deserving topic. Life has been extremely fulfilling lately. Maybe I'm one of those writers who's inspiration comes from pain (ha!). And by "writer" I mean frustrated law student who likes to read her own thoughts. So what's a writer to do when the block comes? Carrie Bradshaw would know what to do! Home is where the hear it! Her's may be New York City, comso in hand. But my happy place is Cashmere - Blue Moon in hand.
I've been in Seattle for the weekend visiting Ian and getting to know my new home-to-be (I'll be moving there in May). We drove around looking for the right neighborhood for my future apartment, went on a run through UW's campus and visited the UW law school, where I'll be in the fall. It was over 60 degrees on Saturday! And they have a Nordstrom! and H&M! Holy fashion haven! I love it there, truly I do, but there is nothing like coming around the bend on highway 2 and seeing the hill with my parents' house perched atop. Right now I'm sitting in our kitchen chatting with mom and looking out as the sun lights up the snow on the cascades. You can make fun of Cashmere's size, but no one can doubt that it's breathtakingly gorgeous here. but shhh! Don't tell anyone - it's a secret.
This week off will be used to relax, sit in the hot tub, run with Cooper, and read a book for fun. And hang out with two of my favorite people: Scotty and Kellbell. This week is about getting out of Spokane. About happiness. Find yours cause I'm currently in mine and let me tell ya what...It's good times. Now all I need is a back rub. Any takers?

in memory of a friend

It's late. Usually I would wait to write until tomorrow, but this is too important. If I wait, I'll get it wrong. This I have to share while the tears are still fresh in my eyes.

Tonight I finished my book club book (told you I was old!) The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein. The book is based in Seattle and seemed like a perfect pit for our club, entitled the Alleged Book Club...because really we're there for the company, the food (catered!), and the champagne! The never-ending train of champagne! I digress....
The book is told from the perspective of the man's dog - Enzo. He is a philosophical canine whose eloquence for all things racing held my attention into the wee hours of the morning. See his owner, Denny, is a race car driver who suffers an insufferable tragedy. Partly at the hands of lawyers. But this post isn't necessarily about Denny and Enzo. This post is about Lindsey, Ian, and Brandy.
She was my best friend (oh no...here come the tears again). As a child, I was the loud one. the attention getter. the annoying kid who wouldn't shut up. But for all of the attention that I got from my behavior, I had very few friends. I had Karina Pickett and Danielle Smart. And then Stephenie Blair. I'm sure I had more than I thought I did. But as a perfectionist, I wanted everyone to like me. Naturally I failed. I had friends. But there was no one, NO ONE, like Brandy. My beautiful red-tinted golden retriever with endless patience for the child with too much energy. She would lay with me when I was tired. Hell, she would let me lay on her when I was tired! She never got tired of my games, my outfits, and my tent/forts in the wreck-room. With her big, only-goldens-have-it smile, she was my shadow. Mom and Dad got her for Ian and I when I was four and he was 6. She was with us until I was 17.
I can remember how excited I got when it was my turn to have her sleep in my room. Ian and I took turns. As the quite child, I'm sure Brandy preferred Ian's organized living. But I like to think that she enjoyed my chaos every other night. See, I've always been a night owl. After Mom and dad would tuck me in, the real fun would begin! Brandy and I would play with my American Girl dolls. Making up stories that always included us as the main characters. duh. (not much as changed eh?) When I finally tuckered us both out, We'd pass out on my twin bed: me under the pink comforter Mom made me; Brandy on top of the covers. As the night progressed, my sleeping space would slowly and methodically be invaded by Brandy's warm body, until finally she had taken over the entire bed and I waved the white flag of defeat. I wish Mom had counted all of the times she discovered me asleep on my floor covered only by my white baby blanket (which is currently draped around my shoulders as I type this). It was bliss and I couldn't be happier.
Through the loneliness, there was brandy.
Through the confusion and hurt I experienced from moving houses (like...3 blocks), there was Brandy.
Through my "grueling" 3 mile runs, there was Brandy.
Through the ecstasy of my first boyfriend and finally fitting in at school, there was Brandy.
For the good and the (significantly less frequent but significantly more important) bad - I had a friend.

It broke my heart when she could no longer race around with Ian and I. Ian was stronger than I. He buried her next to our garden with her leash and her tennis ball on the day of his high school graduation. Even my "if you have to cry go outside" Dad (who's really the biggest teddy bear of us all) cried. She was my best friend.
I still miss her. And I'm still crying. Enzo said that when a dog is done with it's "dogginess" it comes back as a human. I hope someday I'll get to shake her hand: female to female, and tell her how much it meant to me that she listened to all my problems. That just being with me when I needed her the most, meant the most.
aaannnddd.....now I'm crying more. I really hope my face isn't all puffy in the morning. That really ruins even the best outfit. Tomorrow I'm wearing my pink dress. (again, not much has changed).

halfway to 50

So sometimes when I'm at the gym and in need of a little added inspiration, I'll buy a magazine and read it while on the bike or elliptical. Since February is my birthday month and Cosmo has a great astrology section, I grabbed the Carrie Underwood cover-mag and took it to the gym with me. While dripping sweat onto the pages I realized something that disturbed me: I'm old. In the front of the magazine, readers can write in and tell their crazy boyfriend/college/work stories that are either embarrassing or funny. Most of these are about dating and sexual exploits. And not a single person who had wrote in was older than me. WHEN DID I GET OLDER THAN THE PEOPLE WHO WRITE IN TO COSMO?! And how do these young girls (some a mere 19) have crazy sex stories that they feel need to be nationally publicized?! Keep it in your pants people. have you no shame? geez.
It wont be until they are my age that they realize they had no business shagging their boyfriend in the public bathroom at the hockey game, and furthermore, that instead of writing the adventure into cosmo that they should be in church (or planned parenthood) confessing their sins and begging for Allah to find it in his heart to forgive them. And to not make them a rabbit in their next life. Christ.
The moral of the story isn't to have more socially acceptable morals. It's that I'm halfway to 50 and feeling old. (It's about me!!!!) I'm not even sure if my friends are going to throw me a party. Which is doubley depressing me right about now.
So funny story I remember from working for Workland & Witherspoon, a law firm here in Spokane, when I was in undergrad. They had an intern named Kelly who had gone straight from undergrad to law school and was turning 25. I remember thinking to myself, I feel so bad for her! 25. no boyfriend. not married. no prospects of marriage. Man...that would suck. Hello Karma - it's nice to meet you. again. PS you suck.
Although the whole "boyfriend" situation is still up in the air, I have no marriage prospects whatsoever. And usually I'm the poster-child for waiting until 30 for marriage (like abstinence before marriage only more plausible). But right now, I feel behind in life! No job! No husband! No his-and-hers towels! No mortgage! hell....I don't even pay my own cable bill.
To make me feel better, my dear friend Christina told me not to worry: "you're one year smarter and one year hotter than the last! Heartbreaker." it's a shameless play to my narcissism but I'll take it as truth :)
Also, just as a nail in my coffin, I have an exam ON MY BIRTHDAY. In my least favorite subject. with my least favorite professor. damn my poor life decision to go to law school.....

internal commentary

For the record, in reading my last post, I really do have big sunglasses (duh), a golden retriever (Coopsies!!), a yoga instructor (though she kinda sucks at life), and a convertible named Betty. Looks like my life goals are achieved! Let me tell ya, as the only person you know with this experience, it's lonely at the top (brush it off). I kid I kid.

Is it just me, or does anyone else do an internal commentary to their life? ....no? ....just me? well ok then. So let me tell ya how it goes. here is an example of what I was thinking this morning.
I walked down the steps from my top floor apartment as i buttoned my banana republic trench; black leather gloves doing the work for me. As I hit the button to open my convertible VW bug, I noticed that sound that I love. The sound of my heels striking the pavement. That "click click" plays up my confidence and completes my killer wardrobe. Off to work I go. Hi ho. hi ho.

My life sounds so glamorous when told through my point of view :)

AI dreamin'

I should not be allowed to watch American Idol. You know how our digit cable now has "parental controls" so that our budding youth won't be able to watch Jersey Shore and develop dreams of hair gel and slutty behavior? Well I need a qualified adult to: (1) show me how to work my remote controller, and (2) put American Idol on my block list! It's not because I think I shouldn't be this thoroughly entertained by bad reality TV. It isn't because I'm afraid that Simon's inability to sympathize with others will begin to rub off on me (I kinda like Simon and the mean things he says to people). It's because it makes me believe that I too can be America's next idol! I too, can wow the judges with my beautiful rendition of Alicia Keys' "Fallin." The truth is, the judges would agree that my vocals are substandard. But given the chance, I would risk national humiliation just to hear them say it.
After this week's show on Tuesday I found myself singing the national anthem in the bathroom on my way into the shower. It's not as embarrassing as it sounds....I was nominated by my peers to sing the national anthem with the other nominees at graduation in May. Practice makes perfect! ...okay so it's really that embarrassing.
What is comes down to is, I really miss singing! The roots of it all go back to my beautiful mother. One of her many talents is being able to match pitch with whatever song happens to be on the radio. Her high school choir teacher told her to remember him when she was famous. I envied her voice growing up. As soon as I was old enough for words, I was singing right along with her, albeit off pitch. But I improved with many a car-rides' practice. We even got my brother sucked into our love for belting every song at the top of our lungs: his friends tease that he serenades them in the car. I love it! We were both in the Cashmere high choir the year we won Best in State. My senior year I was even the concert choir president (I know...snaps for me!).
Much to my dismay, I discovered early that I am no solo artist. I'm more of a blender...I can match someone else but can't seem to hold my own. Maybe it's nerves. But through all of that, I still have begotten dreams of seeing my name in lights! Of headlining a national tour!
Or rather, maybe it's just that I have dreams of being famous...not necessarily of being talented. I would not be one of the brooding artists who steers clear of mainstream. Who believes their music to be "art" (ahem...Kanye West). Who lose themselves in a project and come up for air wearing some hideous form of black. I would get huge sunglasses, a golden retriever, a yoga master, and a beautiful convertible. I would definitely call out my ex's on all their shit through the power of my lyrics (yay Taylor Swift!).
Truth? I shouldn't be trusted with fame. I'm too afraid I'd use my powers for evil and hire an assistant just to put my shoes on for me. Because, like duh. I'm Lindsey Jean Wehmeyer. I do not. slip. on. my. own. pumps. thank you very much. (hair flip)

when it rains...

Have you ever felt someone else's pain so vividly that it becomes your own? I'm in possession of someone else's tragedy and it has consumed me.

My life got turned upside down last Thursday night. I feel like someone died. And I'm pretty sure that something did die...It is just not tangible. But the hurt. It's gut-wrenching. So sit back, and maybe my adopted pain will become yours as well.

I have a best friend. Her full, god given (Philipino) name is Erin Ann Gonzaga Faith Ditto. And I love love lover her. She's the one person in life that I feel really knows me for me...other than maybe K-Dub. She's from Phoenix, AZ but went to Gonzaga with me. We were cheerleaders together and our senior year, she was second in command to my "captain" status. I was "captain no fun" but she was captain "watch it." If you didn't watch it, Erin was going to put you in your place. Love my little half-asian ball of fire.
Our Junior year she met a boy named Kelly. (Yes, girl=Erin. Boy=Kelly.) He instantly became a huge part of both of our lives since it was about then that E and I started doing everything together. A few years later, I dated his best friend Chris Santucci. Like, OMG, how cute were we?! Best friends dating best friends!!!! Erin and Kelly lived together, in the same house as Chris and 5 of our closest friends, for about a year. We're thick as thieves. They are two of my very best friends. Two people that have changed my life for the better. When I thought I couldn't believe that any good could come out of a relationship, they were my light. Last christmas, they made us all very happy when they got engaged.
Erin and Kelly would make you believe in true love. Make you a devotee to happily-ever-after. But like anything that looks good from the outside, the picture wasn't perfect. I'm not sure what went sour, but the two people that I thought would sit on a porch swing holding hands at 80 are no longer. I found out the reason "why" I guess...like it matters. maybe they just saved themselves from divorce. who knows. When I found out, I called her.
I can't described to you the amount of pain I could hear in E's voice. She said to me, "I don't know what to do." So we took baby steps.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"sitting on the curb at my parents'."
"Just sit there for a while. When you think you can stand, that's all I want you to do. Just stand."
Seconds of silence passed; muffled sobbs. Until I heard,
"I'm on my feat." I thought to myself, not quite hunny.
That's how we got her into the house. I texted the ex (a sure sign of treason, I know) just to tell him that I love him too and am thinking about him. I wanted him to know that in the division of the assets, I didn't want to have to pick sides. Like a child of divorcing parents I want visiting hours with both my friends. Though E is like, duh, first.
I was on the 6am flight to Phoenix so that I can hold my E.Ditto in person and just be with her. I just need to be there while she cries. It's the least I can do. When someone is grieving, NEVER EVER say that you know how they feel. Even if you've gone through the same thing, you have no idea what they're going through. Just say, "I'm sorry." Sometimes, you don't have to say anything at all. Silence can be powerful. be with the person. Be with them while they cry. Be with them while they stand. Inevitably they'll fall...and when that happens, be with them then too. This is her grief, but it's my pain too!
I guess the question for me is....is it worth it? Is the love that they felt for 4 years, all of the good times, worth the absolute blackness of the bottom that they're both sitting in right now? Are the late nights staying up talking and growing together worth the sleeplessness that Erin is experiencing? Waking up crying. I have to believe it is. You can't be scared of love because of heartbreak. She'll climb out of the dark abyss of this hurt and grow from it. She'll love again. And through all of it, so will I.

What's in a name

I was recently asked as to the origins of "pinkbananaas" - and sadly enough I have a really boring answer.

I like PINK (a lot. like tons and tons. Like so much that after we moved from the Oak Street house when I was about 13, I experienced a pink-disaster! I left my pink curtains that Mom made me behind on accident. So what is a girl to do? Grab a friend and drag them with you as you knock on the door of said house and ask, kindly, for them back.)
I like bananas. (but not as much as I like pink. therefore it comes second.)

The extra "a" is there because pinkbananas was already taken. So much for being original....

love & war

Love is a battlefield. - Jordin Sparks. Heartbreak warfare. - John Mayer

Why all of the violent war references when discussing matters of the heart? Why are love and hate so closely tied? It's the ying and yang of the world I guess - opposites always coming together (cue Paula Abdul's "Opposites attract.") But I have to beg to differ. In fact, I think that if love were really a battlefield, it would be much more easy to navigate.
Love is not a battlefield. It's so much worse than that. The analogy is close, but you're in the wrong branch of the government. Love is better described as a political strategy: a power play. Think about it: on a battlefield the lines are clearly drawn. Us v. Them. Good v. Osama Bin Laden/Cuba/Heidi Montag. You know..the general evils of this world. Everyone has their weapons drawn and we know a little bit, depending on our level of intelligence, about the opponent. Strap on your guns people, we're going to war! If I were in the military I think that my outfit would look something like Lara Crofts. Hot and sexy but will totally beat your ass. Booty shorts and all. My point is, war is fairly clear all things considered. Where love is a complete different story!
When i say politics, say the first thing that comes to mind. (john Edwards' love child. making money over making peace. saying one thing and meaning another. putting up for appearances. really ugly suits.) In politics, you say that you'll do all of these great things, make the world that we all live in a better place, blah blah word vomit all over. Love is sort of the same way. In the beginning, before you're elected to the position of boyfriend or girlfriend, you make all these promises: you cook, clean, still go to the gym, put on make up, wear sexy lingerie, shave!!, don't say anything about the crap you find really annoying. But then you're elected! Public affection! The campaign stops and you see your new office for the first time. It's one day later and you're already thinking about redecorating. "You cannot wear that out honey! It has a hole in it." "your butt is showing." "you look slutty." "you look gay." Of course we want to do all of the hard labor ourselves and never call for the professionals to come decorate for us.
And to complicate matters, our subjects are in an uprise! Your friends miss you and say you've changed. "You were supposed to meet me at spinning class...god forbid I sweat alone!" Politicians never keep their promises (Yes we can??) They're rarely faithful - dont make me list them all, I'll be here all night. And did I mention the suits?! I mean come on....with all that money, how do you look so cheap!! (Hilary.)
My (cynical) point is, I think that if love were really about warfare, I'd be super good at it! But it's not that simple. Love is a political power play full of secrets. smoke and mirrors. and, god forbid, emotions. (!!!!!!!)

But, food for thought: if what you experience is really that close to politics, it's probably not love at all. It's probably a failing relationship and you should abandon ship before you're caught in the undertow.
That is all.

Let's play pretend

Everyone hides.
It's a line from the Showtime show Dexter that I can't get out of my head. Everyone hides. So true. per usual, it's some one-liner that has me inspired to blog.
This got me thinking about people's perceptions of others and how off they can be. My friends from Cashmere, from home, think I'm the biggest girly-girl to ever be born and bred in the country. I wear heels. lipstick (eee gasp!). Pink (offensive much?). To them, I'm a ditzy air-head who somehow slept her way into law school (I mean, there's no way I'm smart....right? **there is a difference between book smart and common sense smart!). It's not their fault that they see me like this. That is the role I play within the Cashmere group of friends. Everyone has their place and mine just happens to be covered in pink and shiny things! I love things that glitter! True story. Pete always makes fun of my short attention span and that I'm easily distrac...ooooh shiny things! Chanel, Rachel, & Sarah, my undergrad besties, would concur with Cashmere. Though Sarah has me beat.
My friends at law school think this interpretation of me is hilarious and completely untrue. Nat and Jenn quite often tell me I act to things like a guy, think like a guy, and (as my foul mouth can attest) react like a guy. A guy with a killer booty! psh. please. I tell them that I hang out with mostly guys and relate to them better, hence how I act/react. I don't care if my friend dates my ex. I didn't want to date him anymore and as far as I'm concerned...can't we all just get along? I hate confrontation. i think that's what it is.
But is this playing pretend, or is this "hiding"?
Dexter, for some background info, is a serial killer by night and stand out guy by day. it's true when you think about it. there is always something that we're hiding, whether it be small things like that Tina Turner CD (Beau), or something big like purging after large meals or being gay. I've learned not to hide anymore. it's not that I wear my past on my sleeve or particularly like to talk about what I hid, it's that I don't let it get to me anymore. It's no longer my elephant in my room. it's my figurine on the mantle. I've also learned that our experiences, when shared, can help guide others who are struggling to find air in similar waters. if you know what I mean.
People hide in a number of ways: whether it be literally hiding something or covering something up. It's not that we don't want to share, it's just that we don't think society will accept it...or even worse...that we ourselves wont accept it. Like when you say it out loud it becomes real. The words make the difference - the difference between plywood forms & rebar v. freshly poured concrete. That shit's permanent. for instance: last year at this time I was depressed. I didn't say it or even really know it then, but I know it now because now I'm not. I'm free. I'm not sure how, but I wont ask questions. Maybe it wasn't truly "clinical depression" in the definitional sense of the word....all I know is that you can't call whatever that was "happy." Maybe it's the nearly 10 lb's I've lost. Maybe it's not. Needless to say I wont be gaining them back just for the sake of finding out! When it comes down to it, i think life is too precious, too finite to "hide." But I get why Dexter hides...I would too if i chopped up criminals in my free time.

here are some things that I don't think we should hide:

Sexual orientation (be you.)
mental disorders
hating your job (life's too short)
That you're good at something
that you're not.
That you're unhappy (life's too short)
If you love pink. and glitter
Loving Britney Spears!!!
Your feelings

I'm a big fan of lists :)

Did I look that dumb in undergrad?

I love going back onto the undergrad campus and people watching. Although it makes me feel old (dear god I'll be 25 next month), undergrads are some serious entertainment. The younger the better (that's what she said). I walked by 14 girls before I saw someone with normal clothes on! The first 14 people, and probably the 14 after that one sane girl, had either leggings, sweats, or jeans tucked into Uggs or Ugg knockoffs. There is one thing I hate more than uggs tucked into leg-wear of some sort...and that is crocks. deciding between the lesser of the two evils, I'll take Uggs. How is that a cute look? How is that style? What the hell kind of message are you trying to say? I venture to say that it's something along the lines of, "like....I mean, everyone else wears them and like, i don't wanna feel left out. Plus they're like super expensive and i want people to think that I'm rich. Plus like the basketball team's girlfriends wear them so they've like got to be cool." Gag. Me. As an ex-girlfriend of a member of the basketball team, I did not and will not own Uggs.
sheep.
This is not saying that I haven't fallen victim to a heinous trend to be part of the group. I'm prone to fashion failure as well....doesn't stop me from judging others ;) BUT.... I never wore my jean skirt with my leggings and my Uggs. I never "bared my midriff." In public. I current do not wear skinny jeans.
Skinny jeans - don't get me started. I mean really, it just comes down to me being jealous of the people who can pull them off. And if you can (i.e. you're over 5'7 AND under 120lb) I give you snaps.** And yes....you can see right through me like I've bathed in windex: jealous. Alas, I am not such a woman. But too often they are worn by people who have NO business being near them. They're "skinny" jeans for a reason. Those damn things should have a weight limit on the tag! Like a warning label. WARNING: unless you're over 5'7 AND under 120 lb these will make you look squatty and bring attention to your bottom. And Lindsey Wehmeyer will judge you. - Let me make a minor amendment: If you are shorter than 5'7 and are finding my requirements for tight pants too stringent, I'll reserve judgment for skinny, short people that miraculously don't look like midgets in skinny jeans. That makes me even more jealous actually because I can't help my height (I blame KellBell) but I could help my weight (I blame wine). So good for you! Congrats! I'll try not to hate you. try.

eating missionaries for dinner

So I read a new book. It's called "Getting Stoned with Savages" and about the author's travels through the Vanuatu and Fiji in the south pacific. He becomes obsessed with finding out everything he can about the one thing he can't understand: cannibalism. I can't help but agree (oddly enough) - what is it with eating people? I'm a carnivore and proud of it (I order my steak rare. bleeding perhaps), but a person would sorta creep me out. I draw the line there. Maybe if I were on the plane with the people from the movie Alive. You know, basic human survival instincts and all. I would cut a bitch. But this isn't about what I think, but more about the whole subject, so moving on.

While in the Fiji museum he ran into a Bible from the Methodist reverend Thomas Baker. Next to his Bible was the dish in which some of Mr. Baker's flesh was presented to one of the highland chiefs. And the fork used to eat he's flesh. And Mr. Baker's shoe....the only thing left after they ATE HIM.
The author goes on to share his views on missionaries....which I thought was funny and I add it not to offend but as a discussion topic. (and by discussion I mean for me to talk about...seems kinda one-sided but whatev). If you can't laugh at yourself (or your group/affiliation) then you aren't allowed to laugh at others.
Generally, when it came to missionaries, I rooted for the home team. "My god is better than your god" always struck me as an argument that was just a trifle presumptuous. What if the missionaries were wrong? What if the divine creator was actually Isis, the goddess of fertility? She'd be pissed, wouldn't she? Nevertheless, after just a brief exploration of Fijian history, I couln't hep but cheer for the Methodists.
I can't help but cheer for them either! A simple, "No thanks but safe travels!" would have worked much better than. "rrrawwww" - knife wielding cannibals. Break bread. Not bones. But if it makes anyone feel better, the tribe who killed him felt badly about it after and presented the Methodist church with a whales tooth. Which I guess is like the highest form of "I apologize for eating your reverend" in Fiji at that time. They no longer "eat the man" over there. I think that would put a bit of a damper of tourism if the visitors were being offered as the nightly special.
But taking that tangent....how would you go about pricing human flesh? Would Methodists be more or less expensive than Catholics or Mormons? Would beauty be taken into account? I mean, can you just see the problem you'd face when ordering your meal? "I'll have the blonde Mormon with the good pecks. Oh and hold the freckles." I don't think that people with freckles should be eaten. We're too awesome.

Kind of morbid topic but I've been left in my apartment by myself for far too long. If you'd like a better topic, bring KB back to me.

So I kinda sucked this trip....

I want to apologize for sucking so much at writing on the blog! I'm sorry! lo siento! my bad. BUT do not dismay....I wrote a journal almost every day of the trip and will try to upchuck some of that onto the blog periodically. Also I've read some interesting books that I wanted to chat about. One being "Getting Stoned with Savages" about the South Pacific. Which NZ is sorta a part of geographically. So I have some funny antidotes to relay about it.

LIFE UPDATE: I'm moving to Seattle in May! I'm getting out of Spokane! I get to be by Ian, grandpa & Paula Wehmeyer, aunt Karrie, aunt Kim, Kris, Kirk, etc. family and friends! It's all very awesome stuff. The reason being, I was accepted to the University of Washington school of law LLM of taxation program. In short meaning, I'm going to get my legal masters in tax law. woohoo! so if you're in Seattle, prepare for my arrival....because it'll be epic :)