each day its own reward

Done with the Cough.

2012-02-16T11:23:00.000-07:00

It's rather romantic, lying there together on the couch, stiffling and coughing... moaning and groaning...

I think we'll probably have six packs by the end of this, though. Woot.

Yesterday Hub looked down to his chest and said, "All done." Yeah. That's how we feel. All done please.

So in my pathetic state I'm craving a good Amazon order. I'm going to get "In Defense of Food" by Michael Pollan and Mark Bittman's "Kitchen Express." Aaaannnd while I'm at it, I might grab "Nourishing Traditions" by Sally Fallon. Mostly I don't know much about these books except lots of other people like them. And they contain recipes. Bonus. I'm hoping to find something that will help us incorporate healthy habits but I'm not looking for a lecture on why I can't have J-Dawgs again in my life. Because I will have J-Dawgs. Regardless of what anyone says.

I'll keep you posted on my findings and life changing discoveries.

Almond Milk.

2012-02-14T20:45:00.000-07:00

Who knew almonds gave... milk?

So the "internet" (cue vague, random, yet informative wikipediaers and various IBD websites) thinks that dairy is bad news for Crohn's. Chase is madly addicted to the stuff though so who knows if it'll ever leave our fridge. However, we're experimenting. I bought almond milk. And still I think, what the heck is almond milk? More specifically, how do you milk an almond?

Anyway, we've found that it's gross alone, that's for sure, and in cereal it's nearly bearable. But in smoothies? Mmmmm hmmm, nothin better. Who knew? Does anyone love almond milk and have more uses for it? (Maybe disguises would be a better word... still, I'm curious.)

Gastroduodenal Crohn's Disease.

2012-02-12T17:08:00.000-07:00

I have to tell you one of my favorite stories.

We were over for dinner at the home of some dear friends. They had also invited another couple from the neighborhood, as we were all going to Sundance Resort's Blue Bird Cafe concert (which was un-real and is now a staple in the Thornock tradition book). We were talking at dinner, getting to know this other couple, enjoying ourselves as we ate leafy garden greens and other healthy assortments provided by our incredible hostess. Chase took a big bite of bread as I tentatively asked our new friend how her first husband had passed away. She responded, "Crohn's disease." Bread was choked by Hub, I was laughing hysterically, and our sweet hostess became wide-eyed and then joined me in my laughing fit. Our own Crohn's experience was only about 6 months fresh at that point and the irony of the situation was... surprising. And seriously hilarious.

Since that time we've had ups and downs and symptoms and relief, and we still are searching to find balance with the disease. The search is a bit more complex as the Gastroduodenal version of Crohn's is much more rare and very different symptomatically than streamline Crohn's.

I've also realized how much I love my Chase. Nothin like a good reality check to help you reflect on how much you have to be grateful for.

The latest Crohn's associated adventure is peripheral arthritis. This adventure is the most exciting during our weekend tours with the ballroom company. I really feel like our lifestyle, diet, and habits contribute hugely to the way our bodies function in general. I feel like there is a sweet spot that we can find with Chase's diet, too (and especially). I'm all for the combo of modern meds/technology and the pursuit of a healthy lifestyle. Since activity levels are pretty stable for us, my current quest is to hone in on healthy eating. We're doing our best to stick to the "Word of Wisdom" diet- all things in moderation and lovin' those plant based foods. The specific challenge is that raw fruits and veggies are hard on the intestines. So, cooked, blended, creamed, and boiled are our preparation favorites. We're happily on the green smoothie bandwagon and doing our best to choose wheat over white flours. I'm loooving the idea of preservative/nasty free foods. Except for Cadburry Eggs- those don't count.

Token picture:

Today's experiment: sweet potato biscuits. I'll let you know how it goes!

Please feel free to contribute any food/recipe ideas about things that have worked or not for you- I'd seriously love to hear them.

Vision.

2012-02-12T16:44:00.000-07:00

Happy 2012, eh?

I suppose it's been awhile since this blog has seen some lovin'. It's been an eventful few months, that's for sure. Christmas came with a fabulous cruise to Meh-hee-ko (not to mention parasailing) and some serious vegging; New Year's rung in with a bout of arthritis (and Justin Beiber, "obvi"); and school began with a huge push for thesis data collection with 14 RA's and a trillion preschoolers. We've been dancing like crazies, playing as hard as we can, watching every single episode of MythBusters on Netflix, and reading a ton of whole food resources.

I've had a vision for this here blog o'ours as I've been reading everything I can about Gastroduodenal Crohn's Disease, whole foods, Photoshop actions, faith, and family rituals. And as I coveted the experience of all those who attended Alt Design Summit, I thought that now might be a good time to turn a new leaf. Basically I need somewhere to organize my thoughts. Enter blog.

I'm excited to see where this goes... especially as extra time is not particularly bounteous at the moment... but I can at least keep you updated about how I revolutionize the academic world with my stunning intellect in thesis form.

So here we go, all you dedicated readers (aka Mom). Here we go.

Madelyn the Beautiful

2011-12-14T20:22:00.000-07:00

I'm so glad Maddy is a senior and let me take pictures of her.
Among the many reasons I like Madelyn I do appreciate her fashion sense. She finds THE BEST stuff at Forever 21.

Behold.

The NYC Adventure

2011-12-14T19:31:00.000-07:00

Last month the Hub and I ventured to the Big Apple. And we loved it. We stayed with my "aunt and uncle" who live out there- it was so good to see them and get to know their family better. Something about cities makes me so excited. It's probably the shopping. Or the shows. Or the sights, the food, the adventures... okay I just love it all. The primary purposes for our visit were Chase's business networking meetings and my spatial usability conference. In between our professional duties we found a little bit of time for exploration. But really, we had a blast.

The first night in NY we went to see Wicked and stood wide eyed in Times Square. Exhibit A:

We entered the lottery for $25 Wicked tickets and SCORED! This is Chase looking ready for competition:

And this is me WINNING!

I just can't simply describe all the highlights, but among them were Serendipity crepes and ice cream, meeting Jody and Zoey for lunch and shopping, Brooklyn Bridge walking, Little Italy dining, and soccer game watching.

Chase is applying to internships out east. I'm crossing my fingers.

Can't wait to see ya again, New York.

Black Friday... That's Right

2011-12-01T17:34:00.000-07:00

Enjoy- this video made me laugh so hard I cried. It's two guys asking for random things from Black Friday employees. Wow.

Eight or Seventeen Favorites

2011-11-09T21:45:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks ago we went with the dancers to Northern Cali. Besides trying to sleep two nights on the coach, it was a riot. 1) Northern California is stunning. 2) I love playing with my besties all night eating dried pears. 3) I'm moving to San Fran. Okay I wish.

Here are the trip highlights in pics:

To the coach!!!! I will forever remember Kenzie (on L) boooooooking it to the bus to save us seats.

I LOVE THESE PEOPLE!!!! Thanks Ames and Reag for an awesome weekend!!!!!!!!!!! I think a highlight was the Sunday School lesson on the teacher's ex husband.

Chase and I getting our hott on in our new SF hoodies.

Token artistic shot

We asked this nice girl if we could watch her pick her oyster and discover her pearls. She even let me photog the exciting event! She got a pink beauty. Once I ate an oyster. That was a bad idea. If it had given me jewels first I might have liked it better.

Everywhere you look.... Everywhere you look... There's the face of somebody who needs you....

Oh Uncle Jesse and DJ Tanner, I will always think of you when I see San Fran streets.

"Hey Chase, you gotta smile- we're at a CHOCOLATE FACTORY!!"

Yum. To the Nth degree.

My Love for Austin

2011-10-10T07:28:00.000-06:00

Last weekend we were in the beautiful St. Gorgeous for a nephew's baby blessing. We left BYU's rainy freezing Homecoming parade to bask in 75 degree sunniness. Beyond the awesome weather, I just really like Chase's family. And another bonus- we didn't get stranded. Always a bonus.

I was cutting watermelon for Saturday night's dinner and my niece and nephew were eating it as fast as they could across the counter from me. Those two are fun-ny. I think they're 5 and 6. We played a little round of "props" with the semi circular watermelon rind. I put it on my head, "What is it?" Nataleigh: "A headband!!" She puts it under her nose, "What is it?" Austin and me: "A mustache!" Austin puts it around his waist, "Guess what it is!" Us: "A belt!" Austin: "No! It's a rope pulling me up!" Ooooohhhh.....

This is Austin at Lake Powell last year. LOVE him.

Then comes the big question from Austin. "Carly, why don't you have a baby?" Even the 1st graders knew that though our family had five little ones born this year, none were mine. I kept chopping watermelon and just said, "Austin, I don't know how! How do I have a baby?" Chase thinks my hobby of asking loaded questions to young ones is dangerous. So Austin, with his cutest dimples and watermelon hands and face concentrates really really hard for a minute, then looks up at me and says, "Well...... I think you gotta eat REALLY healthy." Nataleigh: "Oh yeah, you do."

Wanting Me Some Cornell

2011-10-05T17:53:00.000-06:00

Beautiful, no?

Bathroom. No Shoes. Bam.

2011-10-03T17:43:00.000-06:00

Hello there, I'm your classic germaphobe. Well, okay, let's clarify. I'm not Mr. Monk, though while watching him I get Chase's elbows in my ribs (a nice "that is YOU" nudge) fairly often. I don't sit on toilet seats, I cringe thinking about sneezes and nose blows, "mucus" is indeed my least favorite word, I have a hard time walking on and laying down in grass (there're bugs under there), etc etc. Anyway. Today my feet were KILLING me thanks to the new cutest ever high heels Chase said I could buy at Burlington, and right after I kicked off my shoes in the grad lab and swore that I would be barefoot for the remainder of ~~the day~~ my life, I realized I had to go to the bathroom. First of all, I hate the whole bathroom experience. Unless it's at my grandmas because she has some sort of contraption that makes the toilet paper roll play music when it turns. Crazy. Anyway, the point of this story is that I didn't wear my shoes in the BYU JFSB 2nd floor lavatory and not only did I live, I prospered. Down with shoes forever!!

... except when I need to walk on grass...

Whale

2011-09-29T08:18:00.000-06:00

Ha ha- the things that amuse me...

Spot the Hub

2011-09-26T13:24:00.000-06:00

Here's a recent vid from BYU Sports. See if you can spot hottie Hub Chase among those tackled:

Because It's Not Facebook

2011-09-19T15:48:00.001-06:00

Having a secret laugh...

Exhibit A: Facebook Status Update Gone Insane (commentary by yours truly)

Aj Heaps (Original Status Post)
Dear BYU:
Thank you for taking some of the best Y lot parking and turning it into A lot parking, because there's such a huge excess of Y parking as is.
Sincerly,
A very frustrated Y lot parking permit holder.

Alex Taylor
Which one did they change now?

PROFESSOR WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED (who I have never met)
Here's a little exercise - go to ANY other university, take a look at their parking situation. Then come back and be grateful.

PROFESSOR WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED
Oh, and be sure to check how much it costs to get a parking permit at other universities. At some places like Berkely and Yale there's no point - you can't get one for any price unless you are the dean of a college.

Carly Cowser Thornock
I hate BYU parking. I said it. Perhaps I went to BYU and NOT Yale because I wanted to park? :) (And then I realized that Professor WSNBN is a physics professor at BYU with a diploma from MIT...)

Aj Heaps
Carly, I love you. I couldn't have said it better myself. The one that they removed was south of the Benson Building. I couldn't get parking today because all those Y lots were full, but there were PLENTY of new A lots open....

Carly Cowser Thornock
Lame. I suppose if I got a degree from Harvard or MIT I'd compromise parking privileges... hey, I'd just be happy if our football team scored. (friendly, right?)

Alicia Lauren Peterson
Hahaha sucker!!! I have an A. Go me. :) Love you AJ. You can take my car to school one day.

Janae (with edited maiden/middle name same as professor) Church
So sorry. (I'm assuming this is a sister/mother?)

PROFESSOR WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED
Gee, Carly, it's a shame that you have to get a degree that is rated as valuable as a degree from any university, but with more learning and without the suicide rate of MIT because your teachers actually care about education and not just th...eir research. And your education is almost completely subsidized by tithing funds. BTW, I'm sure that the A lots will fill up once people know they are there - last week I had to park at the Marriott center. And it wasn't that big of a deal. For older faculty, it CAN be that big of a deal. If you don't appreciate the gift that you are given at BYU, you should step aside and let someone more grateful take your place. I'm just saying. P.S. Hard working professors don't appreciate people acting like BYU isn't as "good" as an ivy league school, when all metrics say that it is. P.P.S. BYU doesn't owe you anything.

Heather Ambler Williams
Just because we grumble about the parking situation doesn't mean we don't like the academics at our school! I love the academics, hate the parking. I'm glad my mom lives close because sometimes I call her and say, "I'm coming by your house, PLEASE drop me off, I can't park!"

Whitney Thayne
This is facebook. Go join a debate team.

Heather Ambler Williams
And I even have G-lot allowance... it's still really hard. You have to be at campus by no later than 8am to get a spot. Anyway, I like BYU. Hate parking.

PROFESSOR WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED
Actually, Carly DID express a lack of appreciation for the academics at our school. (Mmmm...must have missed that one. Still funny.)

Heather Ambler Williams
I don't think she did, just said there are more prestigious schools. But I suppose I could be wrong. But mainly I was thinking of AJ, who I'm pretty sure appreciates BYU other than for parking. (I'm adding her as a friend right now.)

PROFESSOR WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED
I don't know about your program, but our undergraduates are as sought out by graduate programs as anywhere in the world. I worked along side graduates from MIT, Berkley, you name it when I did my graduate degree, and they weren't better pr...epared. Maybe I'm a little punchy because I was up all night trying to make meaningful HW assignments and a fair exam - I know none of my professors at MIT cared enough to put that kind of effort in.See More

PROFESSOR WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED
I could say, "Maybe if we had the same quality of students as Harvard or MIT, we'd give them better parking," but it wouldn't be correct. We have excellent students who can stand up against the best of them. But if I DID say that, maybe you'd understand why a hard working professor would take offense.

PROFESSOR WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED
Although, honestly, if we had students who's parents made as much money as Harvard student's parents, we'd probably find a way to give them better parking :)

Aj Heaps
Dallin, shouldn't you be working?

Carly Cowser Thornock
haha ha ha haaaaa

Carly Cowser Thornock
I'll trade Dr. PROFESSOR WSNBN his A lot parking for my G lot parking any day :)

Carly Cowser Thornock
Third comment: I also hate UDOT.

PROFESSOR WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED
Carly, when the weather is good, I usually bike in (not so much this fall because I did a number on my tail bone). I invite you to give it a try. Then you can park right in the middle of campus. And I wouldn't mind parking in G lot - my grad students seem to survive and thrive. But when I'm 20 years older and feebler, as many of our faculty are, I might.

Carly Cowser Thornock
Dr. Durfee, I'd definitely consider it, thanks!

Carly Cowser Thornock
And if you're biking, is anyone using your A lot parking?

Janae (with edited maiden/middle name same as professor) Church
Carly, When you put in the hours and have your Doctorate degree and get a job at BYU, then you will have his A lot parking. Until you have put in the time and dedication for that, you have to have G lot. When Dallin was a student, he didn't have A lot.

I'm still just wondering if I can use his A lot parking if he's biking....

Web Cam 101- Hilarious

2011-09-15T12:44:00.000-06:00

So the story goes that this cute couple, Bruce and Esther, were trying to take a picture on their new webcam. Instead of taking a picture though, they ended up recording themselves on accident. Their granddaughter found the video on their computer and posted it on youtube.... they've had 2 million hits. So funny.

Human Behavior and Design

2011-09-12T17:01:00.000-06:00

...the name of my wishful-thinking PhD at Cornell University.

Doesn't this make sense though? Designing stuff according to how humans behave? I'm sure if you're reading my blog you've heard me personally rave about how important I think the home is. I've heard moms and friends and strangers talk about how they have the hardest time feeling like their house is clean because they can see the dirty dishes from the family room, or that clutter makes them feel stressed, or that they wish the kids had somewhere to play that was out of the way, or even that they're so irritated about how the laundry room is in the middle of the hall. Doesn't it make sense? Don't you agree that the way our homes are structured/decorated/used can be a big factor in determining our satisfaction with our family interactions/children's development/personal sanity? Personal application: The light switch for our family room is the second in a row of three light switches. The switch panel is at the bottom of the stairs. The first switch turns on the lights in the stairway. The middle switch turns on the family room lights, and the far switch turns on lights in a different room. WHAT? Who thought, "Yeah this will be great. Just put the switch to those lights clear over there on this panel, they'll figure it out."

I'm bugged by designers who think "they'll figure it out."

Although I'm all about creative exploration and developing character, I don't want to do those things as I'm getting home late at night with my arms full. I just want to find the right switch the first time. (And I'm trying to find the switch quickly just in case there's a murderer lurking, duh.) Anyway, I'm just so interested in probing into the ways people think and use their spaces. And THEN, I want to make houses EASY to use! For instance, homes should come with a little hidden stepping stool near the kitchen sink slash kitchen counter for little bodies to help and learn from and talk to those people making food (that can be tucked away when littlies aren't around). Because I really do believe a lot of relationship building happens when our hands are busy and our minds can be free to talk, learn, and laugh. Orrr maybe it'd be best for houses to have extra big kids bedrooms with two closets so that sharing rooms is easy. This way siblings can stay up late giving advice and painting nails and jumping on beds and trying on each others clothes and building relationships and learning to share and be kind, yet still having their own (adequate) space to breathe and find privacy and study and hang up the posters of their favorite boy bands.

So for the sake of curiosity and research, of course, what do you love about your houses? What do you loathe entirely? And what do you wish your house had that it doesn't?

Better Together

2011-09-06T12:54:00.000-06:00

Hub and I went with the dance team to Cali this weekend. It was wonderful. You can even watch us dance if you want:

Standard Medley (this is us):
3:45:41
http://www.livestream.com/paradigmdigital/video?clipId=pla_c46755b8-a354-4a27-b7ab-787b04c560b4&utm_source=lslibrary&utm_medium=ui-thumb

Latin Medley:
3:36:53
http://www.livestream.com/paradigmdigital/video?clipId=pla_8d476558-bf0c-43f0-badc-a1c83164e9f1&utm_source=lslibrary&utm_medium=ui-thumb

We totally won. We were the only ones competing. Perfect.

It's wonderful dancing with Chase, can I just tell you? We're better together.

Chase and I both talked in the middle of the night to our assigned same-gender-save-money-on-hotel roommates. Hub had to check if he was alive or dead, and I had to make sure Ashley was really "okay." We really really really are better together.

Mostly Dead

2011-08-24T19:51:00.000-06:00

So it's been awhile. That's because I was mostly dead. The near-lethal combination of killer ballroom team rehearsals, rude bronchitis, dizzy making sinus infection, and the ever looming prospectus almost did me in. But there is a big difference between being mostly dead and all dead, you know. Yet, since there is no loose change to be had (since this month is Amish August) I only had the choice to make a riveting comeback.

Speaking of which, Amish August is one of my very favorite traditions. It started the first year of our marriage when we needed to be extra frugal to meet tuition demands (and thus looked to the ever-resourceful and admirable Amish for inspiration and alliteration) and ever since we try to be wise in budget this time of year. We're not professionals, but we do make an effort to avoid the extra Wendy's trips and I do my best (...) to steer clear of shoe stores during the month of August. It's nice to remember that it isn't STUFF that makes me truly and satisfyingly happy. Brooke got married yesterday. That makes me happy. And my Hub. Who is un. real. I have no idea how I ended up with such a man. He makes me happy. I'm so glad that we get to be married forever (yes, I did teach Relief Society on Eternal Marriage last week...).

I also am happy about a new find: Bountiful Baskets. The local co-op brings in awesome produce weekly for a great price. Through their excellent service, I discovered pluots. What in the world are pluots? Why, plums mixed with apricots, of course. And boy, are they yum-my. I highly recommend discovering them for yourself. The best part is the color of the insides.

On a note completely unrelated to Amish and pluots, my bro just shipped off to college. And by shipped I mean drove to Utah State. And I miss him. He'll be a great little freshman. Do you remember those days when you could function on a semi intelligent level only having had three hours of sleep? Ahhh, on second thought my freshman functionings were definitely less than intelligent, but they were fun.

School down south starts Monday. As in like three days away. WHAT?! Somehow I'm not okay with it. I must admit I've fallen for summer. And I'm sick of BYU drivers. Yep. I said it.

Laughing Out Guts

2011-07-29T17:18:00.000-06:00

I love when I have reason to laugh my guts out with some of my favorite girls. I'm not sure if I can remember the last time I was crying in silent fits of giggles until four in the morning (before last night, that is). That's what life's about, isn't it? Besides working on our abs via stupid jokes and awkward stories, I find myself wanting to be a better person when I'm around my London posse. I also find myself missing sharing a wardrobe with those four. Nothing like a hilarious friend with a slick closet, eh?

Editing

2011-07-26T16:04:00.000-06:00

I discovered something about myself while trying to edit my current research endeavor:

I do best when I print out words.

I am a success when I print out my articles to read and mark.
And I should definitely edit more with a pen instead of trying to track a blinking cursor over 37 pages of never ending analysis.

I'm telling you, paper speaks to me.

Legend. Noun and Adjective.

2011-07-24T21:59:00.000-06:00

Hil had her baby. And he's a beaut.

Here's a preview!

Blue Bird Cafe

2011-07-24T21:48:00.000-06:00

Friday Hub and I went to the Bluebird Cafe concert up at Sundance.

It was AMAZING!!!!

Our HT's were telling us about how they loved the first concert in the series when they stopped by a few weeks ago, and that same night the Engebretsens also raved about it to us. Therefore, we decided to give it a try. It was an excellent life decision. The three songwriters, Lori McKenna, Tom Douglas, and Allen Shamblin, were unbelievably talented. They sat on three stools with their guitars and keyboards and just played whichever songs they felt like they wanted to play for two whole hours. It was just soulful. They played some of their songs that have been picked up by Tim McGraw, Collin Raye, Faith Hill, Lady Antebellum etc., and others that I had never heard before. The best part was hearing the stories about what inspired their songs. Best date ever.

Totally Jazzed

2011-07-21T16:04:00.000-06:00

How about Pinterest everyone?!?

L.O.V.E.

How long has this website existed? I just found it last week and have been enthralled... thus no blogging. I think I laugh out loud every time I'm on there. I've already tried out two new hair styles (found at pinterest) and "pinned" my favorite house from the Utah Valley Parade of Homes to my account too. Woot!

Words

2011-07-13T16:03:00.000-06:00

Source: imgfave.com via Stephanie on Pinterest

found here

And I want this for my home:

Source: etsy.com via Stephanie on Pinterest

found here

Tyler Ward

2011-07-13T09:25:00.000-06:00

I'm so very glad I have brothers who know stuff. And by stuff, I of course mean "any and all things cool, fun, or trendy." The latest "cool" that my brothers have shared with me is Tyler Ward. This was right after they offered me chocolate mint water. We all know how that went.

Tyler Ward: an acoustic dream of a musician. Next to my husband. Duh.

I like his covers best (so far). And best of all, he and his gang are already on GrooveShark.

Here's a fave:

Major Nast

2011-07-11T17:15:00.000-06:00

Chocolate Mint Water.

Behold the nasty:

NEVER. EVER. Think to yourself, oh hey, chocolate mint water... worth a try?

THE ANSWER IS NO.

Jaded big.

Alias

2011-07-06T11:17:00.000-06:00

Jazzed Again.
Some friends lent us all six seasons of Alias.

We are loving it. Although I don't appreciate the continuous intensity- especially when we're watching episodes back to back. There isn't a moment to breathe and relax, and right when I think they'll settle for a slow down some emotional music starts to play and Sydney goes all estrogen-infused high school girl on us. Uggh. But we love it. We are currently on season two, CD two. Bam.

Park City 2011

2011-07-06T10:15:00.000-06:00

Jazzed #2: The Annual Park City Vay-cay!!

Every year since I can remember my family has come to Park City for the 4th of July. It's always a party. When we were younger, we'd spend the months leading to July preparing a full scale talent show we liked to call The Park City Program. Usually this consisted of my cousin and me bossing around all the younger cousins to learn lame songs and do strange dances. Once there was a poem about an orange. It was always a hit.

Since we've gotten older, the PPP has been replaced with the epic Coney Island Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest!!!! Lots of bonding, less family harmony destruction. Our reining champ and family favorite, Joey Chestnut, won again. We were all so proud. His main contender this year (since the fierce Kobiyashi was a no-show, majorly jaded) liked to dunk his dogs in red drink (probably a nice punch substance that you can buy in those huge jugs, nast) so it looked like he was bleeding. That was verging on offensive, but we got through it. Here is Dan explaining the importance of the contest and all of us watching Joey do his thang:

Please note the matching shirts. Also a long standing Park City tradition.

Next on the tradition list is the Oakley Rodeo. Gotta love it. We're all a little sad that they've nixed the Cowboy Prayer, but this year they let the little tiny new horses loose with their horsie mommas to run around for a bit while the MC talked about the pride in their eyes and the passion in their souls. Our bench started shaking with the restrained laughter, but the ladies in front of us all shot up like little rockets with cameras in hand to document the tender moment. Mmmm.

Tradition dictates a trip to Main Street to stop by the bookstore behind Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory and Cows ice cream parlor.

We do the same things each year, but the funny part is that they never seem to get old.

Jazzed and Jaded July

2011-07-01T15:10:00.000-06:00

Happy July! I'm so glad summer decided to make an appearance.

This July I decided that each day (or ya know, every couple of days) I'd select something in my oh-so-exciting life that gets me all jazzed up (i.e., excited, invigorated, inspired) or jaded (i.e., dull, worn out, enraged). Fun, right? Well we'll see. I had to do something to make Provo more lively.

For the sake of the alliteration, I shall begin with Joycee- my new niece whom I am very much jazzed about! She was born just a week after we got home from Asia last May. She is a ceeeutie. Here are some non-edited peeks.

Another niece was born just three weeks earlier (we took her pictures today... stay tuned).

Musings of a Saturday

2011-06-18T10:05:00.004-06:00

Well, I’m just at school on this BEEEEAutiful Saturday and can I say, I LOVE being here listening to my music and formatting papers. That’s strange but I do. I have this tendency to feel that anything I do on Saturdays is extra-pat-myself-on-the-back stuff so I end up feeling overwhelmingly important and self-motivated, even if my week was less productive than I’d have liked. There’s just something awesome about being alone in the grad lab. I love my grad lab pals with a firey passion, and that is usually the problem. When they’re all here (or probably when I’m there) there is mucho distraction happening. To me Saturdays somehow have the unrealstic mental connotation of lasting forever, with more time just coming and coming. (I’m blaming this on the never-ending chore list I had to accomplish before play as a wee one.) Also I’m not wearing makeup (my “perfection” AKA BareMinerals which I l-o-v-e and credit Alyssa and Christina for their recommendations), which is a wonderful way to make time feel a little frozen.

I decided that mornings are the way to go. I love nights and I love mornings. I should wake up early and then sleep all afternoon and stay up late. Except for beach days, of course. Perfect. I honestly can’t believe how beautiful the mornings have been. I wish I was better at hauling my sleepy buns out of bed with the sun, because every time I do I want to do it more often.

This morning I saw an oooold man running in his 13.1 Thanksgiving Point 2011 shirt tucked into his exercise shorts and working the forehead sweatband. He was pacing in front of the train crossing as we waited, keeping up his heart rate. I was so very impressed. 1) He got up in the morning, 2) he was running, 3) he was pacing (I’m the type to stop at every convenient opportunity), and 4) he just ran a half marathon. And he looked absolutely happy. And he had an ipod. I want to be like him when I grow up.

Also inspiring to me was the Utah Valley Parade of Homes. How I love homes. Especially light and airy, graphic patterned, mismatch furnitured, open cabnited, raised washer and dryered, beadboarded homes. Mmmmm.

Ele's

2011-06-15T16:28:00.000-06:00

Oh hey. It's time to unveil the photographic proof of our Thai Elephant Riding Excursion. Best day... of our Thai life.

#1- Our guide (aka the man who sat on the ele's head as we rode along and clicked his tongue at our ele to keep him from not eating the mountain) asked for my camera and then hopped off the ele (the ele raised his foot and lowered Guide down, it was pretty cool) in the middle of the jungle. I've become attached to my Canon 7D and almost went after him, but then he turned around and made for a fab photographer himself.

#2- Check out the little ele's bathing in the river behind us.

#3- To hang in my home one day:

Swashbucklers....

2011-06-13T13:24:00.000-06:00

As you may or may not know, Hub and I have an affinity for sleep talking-slash-walking. Friday night was one of the best.

I think there were about six instances throughout the night, each immensely entertaining. Here are the top two.

1) Ever since our return from Asian Adventure 2011 I've had to use the restroom in the middle of the night. At first it was like seven times during the night, but now it's just once usually. So, I returned to the bedroom from taking care of business and closed the bedroom door. Here is the confession: there was a one year span (after watching Sixth Sense, of course) where I was afraid of most things, especially anything in the night time. I made my brother sleep on my floor usually. When he wasn't there though I'd be sure to run and jump onto my bed to avoid any ankle-grabbers lingering under the mattresses. Apparently this instinct took over again on Friday night when I was startled by a very distinct "man shadow." I shall explain. There's a little light plugged in behind our bedroom door, so when I closed the door the light was naturally exposed. However, on the wall opposite of the light was a life size, proportionate, lingering, rapist, kidnapper, hater, man shadow. This meant that between myself and the door that I had just come through was a man. Waiting to kill me. So, the instinct kicked in and I jumped full force onto the bed. On top of Hub. He was startled and slightly bruised. Upon further investigation I discovered that "man shadow" was our dresser with a can of almond rocha (gift from the grandma) sitting on top of it. Whew.

2) Sometime in the night I woke up to Hub walking to the closet. When I asked him if he was okay he turned to me with an impressed/curious expression, "Did you SEE that?!"
Carly: "See what?"
Hub: "Those swashbucklers!!"
Carly: "Swash...bucklers?"
Hub: "You know, boots! EXACTLY like Pirates of the Carribean!! He was climbing up! Right there."
Carly: "Oh man I hate that."
Hub: shakes head and comes back to bed

In the morning we discussed the swashbucklers. Those rowdy fiends. I didn't know what I swashbuckler was, though when we looked it up, here is what we found:

Swashbuckler: a swaggering or daring soldier or adventurer

HA HA HA HA HA HA

Hub describes seeing Jack Sparrow's feet dangling as if he was climbing a rope using only his arms. Into the recesses of our closet.

Please see 1:27 in this clip for further demonstration (sorry, embedding was disabled for this clip):
http://youtu.be/ClzaP8HN2wc

TT WHA?!

2011-06-02T16:30:00.000-06:00

Made the BYU Ballroom Touring Team.

We so excited.

This is me pretending to be on the tour team with all of my BFF techies on the trip. We were allowed to meet the Princess of Thailand if we dressed in this garb. Shout out to Brittany who hated having her hair done but who looked hottt :)

World Travels

2011-06-02T16:26:00.000-06:00

So we're back! Missed ya'll.

I thought I’d document our Asia Adventure one little story at a time. It might not be an itinerary report, but hopefully a bit more exciting if not chronological. I’ll start with the Beet, for this story is my all time Asia favorite. Our last week we were in Vietnam. The second city we visited in Vietnam was called Da Nang. Our tour guide was completely slimy. He had this big Asian grin and thought his English was all that. But understanding him was rough and he kept charging us for the most random things. Rex Barrington our PR guy and trip coordinator was so patient with him. Slime ball.

First time on the bus Slime Ball’s like, “Welcome to Da Nong City. Let us all sing city song.” Chase and I looked at each other like “This guy’s a wack job.” Good thing I practiced the Da Nong city song before we left... oh wait. SB then proceeded to sing a Vietnamese solo of the city song. (Or, as Chase would say, Vietmanese.) It was strange and ethnic and I'd say my character was built.

One day Lee got up in the bus and said that he had made a poor decision but was going to let us go to the beach! There was much rejoicing. There were also a couple of conditions: we all slather in sunscreen, and we stay only two hours. Okay and okay. Get us to the beach! Slime Ball picked up the bus karaoke machine (complete with intense reverb) as we made our way to the coast the next morning, “As you can see, straight ahead is da beet. DA BEET.” (All of our Asian tour guides liked to repeat themselves and spell things out loudly.) He continued, “At da beet you can rent beet chairs for 20,000 Vietnamese dong (about one dollar) for whole day. Twenty tous-and for one day. Twenty tous-and Vietnam dong. You can also take a sow-wah at the beet to clean from ocean wata. SOW-WAH. You can take a sow-wah at the beet for 5,000 Vietnam dong. Five Tous-and Vietnam dong. Sow-wah at the beet in Da Nong City!” Cue very large Asian smile and head nod. Da beet was truly wonderful and warm and beautiful and I got fried like a little lobster despite SPF 50.

Us, at da beet:

In honor of finals week, a scholastic story

2011-04-20T19:03:00.001-06:00

Have you ever gotten tired in class? I mean like falling asleep while taking notes can't keep your eye balls open for the life of you tired? This happened to me once. Well, more than once, but this once was memorable.

It was fall semester, freshman year. I was avoiding American Heritage with all the gusto I could muster. Therefore, I was taking Political Science 150 to count for my GE instead. I am not a political scientist. At all. Not even for one second. The hardest assignment I've ever had in my college career was from that class: reading the paper every day. I almost died. So there I am, in PS 150 with my teacher who never looked at us. I'd say it wasn't a very political move, but I actually have no idea how politics and political science are related. But really, my teacher just taught to the up-most part of the room, where the wall intersected the ceiling. I turned around to see what he was looking at a few times, but I'm pretty sure it was just the wall in the MARB, yellow and a little crusty.

I had PS 150 at approximately 1:20 PM. Right after lunch. Right during optimal nap time. So really, the tiredness thing was in no way my fault. What was I supposed to do? Honestly. One day I was particularly tired. I was taking notes by hand because laptops hadn't been invented yet. Actually my laptop was 17" and completely un-user-friendly because of its sheer mass. Therefore I was taking notes by hand. And I was tired. But I had to sleep carefully because there was this kid in my class that knew every answer and kept yelling things. If I wasn't careful my dozes would end with a violent gasp as the Loud Kid once again scared the bajeebies out of me and my blissful snooze. So I was writing, and nodding discreetly. Whitlie was in that class too and if I started to drool she was obligated to employ the poke. Here is how I know I was at least trying to stay awake in class. I made a good initial effort. At the bottom of the page in my notebook was the following:

Political climate of scribble scribble lineeeeeeeee jerk (Loud Kid)
(this next line declines down the page like I'm falling off a mountain)
1945 is first time liiiiiiiiiineeeeeeee mashed potatoes & graVy (with a big V)

Mashed potatoes and gravy.
Thank you PoliSci 150, for that is all I remember about you.

But for reals.

2011-04-13T13:33:00.000-06:00

I know I've claimed to have found my dream job once or twice.

But this is for reals.

STOMP is holding auditions this month in NYC. I wish with 76% of my soul that I could be in STOMP. Ahhh, alas, I will be in Thailand. That's okay I guess. :)

Behold:

I have to.

2011-04-13T13:26:00.000-06:00

I have to post this. My favorite rumba I've ever seen in my life, minus the lipsync moments. Enter Skavik Kryklyvyy & Anna Melnikova.

I love this rumba for the following reasons:
1) Although Barbara Streisand was unanimously strange in Yentl (from which I am still suffering nightmares), her voice plus Bryan Adams equals goodness.
2) Anna is beautiful. Sharp but not overdone.
3) Slavik is named Slavik.
4) Slavik has me convinced he adores Anna. A respectful rumba, how refreshing.
5) Shiny legs.
6) Key change.

I think I would rather watch this 1000000000 times than watch Dancing with the Stars and that bosomy host lady (except for when BYU is on it in two weeks).

Places I Would Spend $1000

2011-04-05T09:49:00.000-06:00

Why am I contemplating places I would spend $1000? Because that's insane. And stores that TRULY have enough awesome stuff (worth of dropping a grand on in one sitting) are worthy of mention.

1) Ross. Not the Orem Ross though, because that one is picked over and lame. But perhaps the Bountiful Ross. During the Dress or Shoe Sale. Mmmm.

2) Anthropologie. Because everything there is so expensive.

3) Forever21.com. And I'd spend it all on one dollar rings.

4) Great Harvest. I'm serious.

5) Barnes and Noble. Or Hatchards. I'd have to bring a friend to order coffee and sit next to me while I read everything I can see in that whole store for pure atmospheric perfection.

6) Nordstrom. Or Nordstrom Rack. But Chase told me I can't say "Nordstrom Rack" around him.

7) The London waffle stand.

I have no idea who this is but this is the waffle stand which would receive $1000. Especially if they have toffee topping. That's my favorite. I will invite everyone I know to join me, except for my dad and brother, who fed their prized waffles to the squawky birds in Hyde Park. Outrage.

8) Hobby Lobby. Bring on the feathers.

9) Primark. See for yourself.

10) Tai Pan. Purses plus plates plus jewels plus vases. Perfect.

11) Pictureline. Pricey pricey pricey and beautiful camera equipment.

12) New York. On Broadway.

Did I miss anything?

Missing Him

2011-04-04T13:15:00.000-06:00

Fish For Now

2011-03-28T13:56:00.002-06:00

Ahh, I'm all about the blog update.

Today's background is dedicated to my fisher-man of a husband. And as a prayer that spring will come more quickly.

Oakley Preview

2011-03-28T13:13:00.001-06:00

Because I simply cannot wait to give these to Whitney.

From Chase

2011-03-24T09:41:00.002-06:00

Chase finds the best videos online. This one is so funny.

Book of Lists

2011-03-24T09:20:00.000-06:00

Well, isn't this fun?? This book has pages of list topics and you can fill them in. "My favorite restaurants." "Compliments I receive most often." "Habits I can't stand." "What I'd do if I weren't too afraid." "Sunday rituals."

This goes on my "Love" list.

List Your Self, by Ilene Segalove and Paul Bob Velick. Find it on Amazon.

The 6 Lessons

2011-03-23T10:25:00.000-06:00

I believe in education. Strongly. I believe in learning, and mentoring, and structure, and the expansion of minds, and the social atmosphere of school, and learning responsibility. Remember this?

I just read this article again yesterday. This man, John Taylor Gatto, makes a really interesting point about how the public school system is hindering the development of children. I agree with him. I have found myself struggling personally with the inability to act unless specifically directed. I often (and wrongly, in my opinion) feel the my worth is based on positive feedback in a school setting. While reading this I kept thinking to myself, "Oh man, I think I believe this." I'm interested to see what you think! I found the link here, but I thought I'd just paste the whole thing for convenience.

The Six-Lesson Schoolteacher

by John Taylor Gatto, New York State Teacher of the Year, 1991

Call me Mr. Gatto, please. Twenty-six years ago, having nothing better to do, I tried my hand at schoolteaching. My license certifies me as an instructor of English language and literature, but that isn't what I do at all. What I teach is school, and I win awards doing it.

Teaching means many different things, but six lessons are common to schoolteaching from Harlem to Hollywood. You pay for these lessons in more ways than you can imagine, so you might as well know what they are:

The first lesson I teach is: "Stay in the class where you belong." I don't know who decides that my kids belong there but that's not my business. The children are numbered so that if any get away they can be returned to the right class. Over the years the variety of ways children are numbered has increased dramatically, until it is hard to see the human being under the burden of the numbers each carries. Numbering children is a big and very profitable business, though what the business is designed to accomplish is elusive.

In any case, again, that's not my business. My job is to make the kids like it -- being locked in together, I mean -- or at the minimum, endure it. If things go well, the kids can't imagine themselves anywhere else; they envy and fear the better classes and have contempt for the dumber classes. So the class mostly keeps itself in good marching order. That's the real lesson of any rigged competition like school. You come to know your place.

Nevertheless, in spite of the overall blueprint, I make an effort to urge children to higher levels of test success, promising eventual transfer from the lower-level class as a reward. I insinuate that the day will come when an employer will hire them on the basis of test scores, even though my own experience is that employers are (rightly) indifferent to such things. I never lie outright, but I've come to see that truth and [school]teaching are incompatible.

The lesson of numbered classes is that there is no way out of your class except by magic. Until that happens you must stay where you are put.

The second lesson I teach kids is to turn on and off like a light switch. I demand that they become totally involved in my lessons, jumping up and down in their seats with anticipation, competing vigorously with each other for my favor. But when the bell rings I insist that they drop the work at once and proceed quickly to the next work station. Nothing important is ever finished in my class, nor in any other class I know of.

The lesson of bells is that no work is worth finishing, so why care too deeply about anything?

Bells are the secret logic of schooltime; their argument is inexorable; bells destroy past and future, converting every interval into a sameness, as an abstract map makes every living mountain and river the same even though they are not. Bells inoculate each undertaking with indifference.

The third lesson I teach you is to surrender your will to a predestined chain of command. Rights may be granted or withheld, by authority, without appeal. As a schoolteacher I intervene in many personal decisions, issuing a Pass for those I deem legitimate, or initiating a disciplinary confrontation for behavior that threatens my control. My judgments come thick and fast, because individuality is trying constantly to assert itself in my classroom. Individuality is a curse to all systems of classification, a contradiction of class theory.

Here are some common ways it shows up: children sneak away for a private moment in the toilet on the pretext of moving their bowels; they trick me out of a private instant in the hallway on the grounds that they need water. Sometimes free will appears right in front of me in children angry, depressed or exhilarated by things outside my ken. Rights in such things cannot exist for schoolteachers; only privileges, which can be withdrawn, exist.

The fourth lesson I teach is that only I determine what curriculum you will study. (Rather, I enforce decisions transmitted by the people who pay me). This power lets me separate good kids from bad kids instantly. Good kids do the tasks I appoint with a minimum of conflict and a decent show of enthusiasm. Of the millions of things of value to learn, I decide what few we have time for. The choices are mine. Curiosity has no important place in my work, only conformity.
Bad kids fight against this, of course, trying openly or covertly to make decisions for themselves about what they will learn. How can we allow that and survive as schoolteachers? Fortunately there are procedures to break the will of those who resist.

This is another way I teach the lesson of dependency. Good people wait for a teacher to tell them what to do. This is the most important lesson of all, that we must wait for other people, better trained than ourselves, to make the meanings of our lives. It is no exaggeration to say that our entire economy depends upon this lesson being learned. Think of what would fall apart if kids weren't trained in the dependency lesson: The social-service businesses could hardly survive, including the fast-growing counseling industry; commercial entertainment of all sorts, along with television, would wither if people remembered how to make their own fun; the food services, restaurants and prepared-food warehouses would shrink if people returned to making their own meals rather than depending on strangers to cook for them. Much of modern law, medicine, and engineering would go too -- the clothing business as well -- unless a guaranteed supply of helpless people poured out of our schools each year. We've built a way of life that depends on people doing what they are told because they don't know any other way. For God's sake, let's not rock that boat!

In lesson five I teach that your self-respect should depend on an observer's measure of your worth. My kids are constantly evaluated and judged. A monthly report, impressive in its precision, is sent into students' homes to spread approval or to mark exactly -- down to a single percentage point -- how dissatisfied with their children parents should be. Although some people might be surprised how little time or reflection goes into making up these records, the cumulative weight of the objective- seeming documents establishes a profile of defect which compels a child to arrive at a certain decisions about himself and his future based on the casual judgment of strangers.

Self-evaluation -- the staple of every major philosophical system that ever appeared on the planet -- is never a factor in these things. The lesson of report cards, grades, and tests is that children should not trust themselves or their parents, but must rely on the evaluation of certified officials. People need to be told what they are worth.

In lesson six I teach children that they are being watched. I keep each student under constant surveillance and so do my colleagues. There are no private spaces for children; there is no private time. Class change lasts 300 seconds to keep promiscuous fraternization at low levels. Students are encouraged to tattle on each other, even to tattle on their parents. Of course I encourage parents to file their own child's waywardness, too.

I assign "homework" so that this surveillance extends into the household, where students might otherwise use the time to learn something unauthorized, perhaps from a father or mother, or by apprenticing to some wiser person in the neighborhood.

The lesson of constant surveillance is that no one can be trusted, that privacy is not legitimate. Surveillance is an ancient urgency among certain influential thinkers; it was a central prescription set down by Calvin in the Institutes, by Plato in the Republic, by Hobbes, by Comte, by Francis Bacon. All these childless men discovered the same thing: Children must be closely watched if you want to keep a society under central control.

It is the great triumph of schooling that among even the best of my fellow teachers, and among even the best parents, there is only a small number who can imagine a different way to do things. Yet only a very few lifetimes ago things were different in the United States: originality and variety were common currency; our freedom from regimentation made us the miracle of the world; social class boundaries were relatively easy to cross; our citizenry was marvelously confident, inventive, and able to do many things independently, to think for themselves. We were something, all by ourselves, as individuals.

It only takes about 50 contact hours to transmit basic literacy and math skills well enough that kids can be self-teachers from then on. The cry for "basic skills" practice is a smokescreen behind which schools pre-empt the time of children for twelve years and teach them the six lessons I've just taught you.

We've had a society increasingly under central control in the United States since just before the Civil War: the lives we lead, the clothes we wear, the food we eat, and the green highway signs we drive by from coast to coast are the products of this central control. So, too, I think, are the epidemics of drugs, suicide, divorce, violence, cruelty, and the hardening of class into caste in the U.S., products of the dehumanization of our lives, the lessening of individual and family importance that central control imposes.

Without a fully active role in community life you cannot develop into a complete human being. Aristotle taught that. Surely he was right; look around you or look in the mirror: that is the demonstration.

"School" is an essential support system for a vision of social engineering that condemns most people to be subordinate stones in a pyramid that narrows to a control point as it ascends. "School" is an artifice which makes such a pyramidal social order seem inevitable (although such a premise is a fundamental betrayal of the American Revolution). In colonial days and through the period of the early Republic we had no schools to speak of. And yet the promise of democracy was beginning to be realized. We turned our backs on this promise by bringing to life the ancient dream of Egypt: compulsory training in subordination for everybody. Compulsory schooling was the secret Plato reluctantly transmitted in the Republic when he laid down the plans for total state control of human life.

The current debate about whether we should have a national curriculum is phony; we already have one, locked up in the six lessons I've told you about and a few more I've spared you. This curriculum produces moral and intellectual paralysis, and no curriculum of content will be sufficient to reverse its bad effects. What is under discussion is a great irrelevancy.

None of this is inevitable, you know. None of it is impregnable to change. We do have a choice in how we bring up young people; there is no right way. There is no "international competition" that compels our existence, difficult as it is to even think about in the face of a constant media barrage of myth to the contrary. In every important material respect our nation is self-sufficient. If we gained a non-material philosophy that found meaning where it is genuinely located -- in families, friends, the passage of seasons, in nature, in simple ceremonies and rituals, in curiosity, generosity, compassion, and service to others, in a decent independence and privacy -- then we would be truly self-sufficient.

How did these awful places, these "schools", come about? As we know them, they are a product of the two "Red Scares" of 1848 and 1919, when powerful interests feared a revolution among our industrial poor, and partly they are the result of the revulsion with which old-line families regarded the waves of Celtic, Slavic, and Latin immigration -- and the Catholic religion -- after 1845. And certainly a third contributing cause can be found in the revulsion with which these same families regarded the free movement of Africans through the society after the Civil War.

Look again at the six lessons of school. This is training for permanent underclasses, people who are to be deprived forever of finding the center of their own special genius. And it is training shaken loose from its original logic: to regulate the poor. Since the 1920s the growth of the well-articulated school bureaucracy, and the less visible growth of a horde of industries that profit from schooling exactly as it is, have enlarged schooling's original grasp to seize the sons and daughters of the middle class.

Is it any wonder Socrates was outraged at the accusation that he took money to teach? Even then, philosophers saw clearly the inevitable direction the professionalization of teaching would take, pre-empting the teaching function that belongs to all in a healthy community; belongs, indeed, most clearly to yourself, since nobody else cares as much about your destiny. Professional teaching tends to another serious error. It makes things that are inherently easy to learn, like reading, writing, and arithmetic, difficult -- by insisting they be taught by pedagogical procedures.

With lessons like the ones I teach day after day, is it any wonder we have the national crisis we face today? Young people indifferent to the adult world and to the future; indifferent to almost everything except the diversion of toys and violence? Rich or poor, schoolchildren cannot concentrate on anything for very long. They have a poor sense of time past and to come; they are mistrustful of intimacy (like the children of divorce they really are); they hate solitude, are cruel, materialistic, dependent, passive, violent, timid in the face of the unexpected, addicted to distraction.

All the peripheral tendencies of childhood are magnified to a grotesque extent by schooling, whose hidden curriculum prevents effective personality development. Indeed, without exploiting the fearfulness, selfishness, and inexperience of children our schools could not survive at all, nor could I as a certified schoolteacher.

"Critical thinking" is a term we hear frequently these days as a form of training which will herald a new day in mass schooling. It certainly will, if it ever happens. No common school that actually dared teach the use of dialectic, heuristic, and other tools of free minds could last a year without being torn to pieces.

Institutional schoolteachers are destructive to children's development. Nobody survives the Six-Lesson Curriculum unscathed, not even the instructors. The method is deeply and profoundly anti-educational. No tinkering will fix it. In one of the great ironies of human affairs, the massive rethinking that schools require would cost so much less than we are spending now that it is not likely to happen. First and foremost, the business I am in is a jobs project and a contract-letting agency. We cannot afford to save money, not even to help children.

At the pass we've come to historically, and after 26 years of teaching, I must conclude that one of the only alternatives on the horizon for most families is to teach their own children at home. Small, de- institutionalized schools are another. Some form of free-market system for public schooling is the likeliest place to look for answers. But the near impossibility of these things for the shattered families of the poor, and for too many on the fringes of the economic middle class, foretell that the disaster of Six-Lesson Schools is likely to continue.

After an adult lifetime spent in teaching school I believe the method of schooling is the only real content it has. Don't be fooled into thinking that good curricula or good equipment or good teachers are the critical determinants of your son and daughter's schooltime. All the pathologies we've considered come about in large measure because the lessons of school prevent children from keeping important appointments with themselves and their families, to learn lessons in self-motivation, perseverance, self-reliance, courage, dignity and love -- and, of course, lessons in service to others, which are among the key lessons of home life.

Thirty years ago these things could still be learned in the time left after school. But television has eaten most of that time, and a combination of television and the stresses peculiar to two-income or single-parent families have swallowed up most of what used to be family time. Our kids have no time left to grow up fully human, and only thin-soil wastelands to do it in.

A future is rushing down upon our culture which will insist that all of us learn the wisdom of non-material experience; this future will demand, as the price of survival, that we follow a pace of natural life economical in material cost. These lessons cannot be learned in schools as they are.
School is like starting life with a 12-year jail sentence in which bad habits are the only curriculum truly learned. I teach school and win awards doing it. I should know.

Really?

2011-03-21T18:28:00.002-06:00

Disclaimer: complaining post.

Setting: 270 RB, the 5:00 hour. Maybe 7 coupes practicing.

Background: In the RB, everyone has tons of stuff. Backpacks, jackets, shoes, shoe bags, changes of clothes, etc. We all put our stuff on the edges of the room. There have been times where I have lost my pile in the midst of everyone else's stuff because there are so many people and so many shoes. However, today was not like that.

Story: Today the room was not crowded. Nevertheless, someone thought it prudent to put their backpack on my shoes. Not next to, ON. My shoes were the ONLY thing on that side of the room. Really. They could have put their pack of importance somewhere else. Maybe like two inches away. We all know that my daily-black-flats are reeeeally nice, but really? Really? I was searching for them for a long time and running around like a crazy bare footed fool for much longer than I usually do. Really?

Tan-ness

2011-03-21T18:20:00.001-06:00

The Help

2011-03-14T13:47:00.001-06:00

Just finished reading The Help. Underlined. Italics. Bold. Exclamation point. I loved it. Loved. I'd heard the title tossed around a bit so I decided to check it out from the library. I assumed it was a fictional story about someone needing help and then getting it. Maybe stuck in a forest? Maybe getting rid of a wicked step mother? But the book turned out to be more of a historical commentary set in the 1960's. Slavery was gone, but prejudice was rampant. The Help refers to the African American women employed in white homes as maids, caretakers, and, well, help. The book is written from the perspective of three women, two maids and one white lady. I was mesmerized.

My worst nightmare, other than people dying (I hate that one), is when I'm standing in the back of a room watching something awful or even ridiculous happen and I don't have a voice. I scream and scream and no one responds. I honestly can't imagine what it would be like to have to live a life where your opinions, concerns, cares, and really your value as a person are largely overlooked. Talk about stuck.

In my development class right now we're learning about infants. Turns out that babies crave social responses from a super young age. Even by three months. Infants react much more (crying, distress, etc) when they are "still faced" (when mom just stares at them without any reaction) than from any other interaction. Ignoring someone is probably the worst thing you can do to them. I think this is true for adults as well.

I recommend The Help eight thousand times over because I am enraged that people thought it was okay to dismiss one another. Period. Color, abilities, talents, money, shape, style, family..... NOTHING qualifies someone to be treated like dirt. Nothing.

The Poo Plant

2011-03-14T13:33:00.001-06:00

Chase and I are so blessed to live in my father in law's home in Orem. We are situated right by a beautiful golf course. And seriously, it is beautiful. Pond included. Putting green right off our front porch. Sometimes there are even weddings at the club house, fireworks and all. It really is a dream.

Except for the poo plant.

Right down the street from our neighborhood is the sewage processing plant. I didn't know what a sewage processing plant was before we lived here. But it didn't take me long to figure out that's what it was. It is stttttttttttttiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinky!!!!! Pee-yeeeewwww.

Poo Plant. Definition: The place where waste is treated so that it can be used in fertilizer. Stinks worst on nights and weekends when people are at home. Sometimes steams in the winter. When passing in the car, turn air vents to "recirculate."

For the sake of education, here is a graphic for your enjoyment.

"Settling tank." Yum.
"Sludge tank." Gross.
"Sludge drying bed." Also gross.

I'm telling you, don't cross us, because we have prank ASSETS right by our house.

I must admit that through the smell I am curious. Curious and grateful. I kind of want to take a tour. A poo plant appreciation FHE might be in the works. I most certainly am thankful for modern plumbing. I would last three seconds with an outhouse. Can I get an amen?

Bronze Goddess

2011-03-10T13:41:00.001-07:00

Why do we spray tan before DanceSport? I have no idea. Most of the time it looks awful, but I secretly like it. I am currently a bronze goddess with no risk for cancer (from UV rays, that is... I can't say what this skin dye will do to me later on). I keep telling Chase I'm a bronze goddess whenever he laughs at my color or has to plug his nose because of the overwhelming coconutty smell. Chase is already a bronze man because of his fly fishing. But he has a wader tan line. Just kidding he fishes in regular clothes, not just waders. But he's still pretty dark. Let it suffice to say that I am ready for summer!!!!! Personalized bronze pictures to come.

New Chair

2011-03-07T18:32:00.000-07:00

We walked into the Center again today. Love it there, actually. I insist on going every time with him because it's always an adventure. Ellen, who is by now practically family, calls us back. "Hi Ellen! You changed your hair!" we say. She responds, "Hey you two! How's the dancing? When is your big trip again, next month?" He hops on the scale without a second thought. We go into room 1, the usual as it's becoming. And I can't help but notice, "Hey! I like the new chair!" That's when I realized that I'm way too comfortable in this place. Finally the Big Man enters, accompanied by his note taking apprentice, who is actully quite funny I found out today. We talk business for a minute, and before you know it, he and the Hub are exchanging fish pictures on their phones and talking about when they can head up the Provo River to catch some trout. BM thinks that Pategonia has the best fishing hole in the world. I realized I don't know where that is. That's when the note-taker reaveals his sarcastic side. He tells me the fish are bilingual there, that's why it's worth a trip around the world instead of a jog into our backyard mountains. We roll our eyes as Hub and BM are drooling over Rainbows on touch screens. As we head out the door we stop to schedule our next appointment. By then Ellen has told the whole station that our concert is coming up, and she's put us on the calendar. All I can say is that we're getting a "30 ticket seller's" tee shirt this year. Mmmm Hmmm. Hub and I laugh on the way to the car. I shriek/laugh because it's freaking snowing, but we still laugh. We like those people.

This Really Happened.

2011-03-04T12:52:00.001-07:00

I'm dying. DYING. Surprisingly not out of embarrassment but out of legitimate amusement and sincere confusion.

I'm washing my hands in the ladies' room at school, mentally pumping myself up to go read some more research on the effects of television watching on children's pre-school readiness. I pull out a paper towel, probably two because one never does the trick sufficiently, and then the lady who was washing her hands next to me says, "Oh, you have toilet paper sticking out of your pants."

What?

I turn around and really, true life, just like a bad junior high school prank of some kind, I had toilet paper sticking out of my pants. Actually it was pinned up under my shirt, which is all the more curious. I instantly retraced my steps... had I been rolling around on the bathroom floor? And then worse, had I lost track of some piece of toilet paper? I ruled out the latter option because although I am working on many things, I am indeed confident of my ability to use toilet paper appropriately on a consistent basis. And then I realized what had happened.

I'm a sanitary freak. I lay paper down on every toilet seat I use. Usually not my own. But I wouldn't put it past myself. Guaranteed a sanitary precaution almost ended up ruining my social life. Bless you, lady who said something on floor 2 of the JFSB. Bless you. I still have no idea how it all happened.

And now I must go get a tissue to wipe away my tears from laughing so hard.

The Fever. Hard Core.

2011-02-24T09:45:00.000-07:00

I love Justin Bieber.

There. I said it.

He reminds me of my brother Danny: "Let me tell ya what you're missin': Paradise."

Rock climb.
...reference to my brother's insistence that his abs are chiseled like a cliff....

Donut Day

2011-02-24T09:27:00.000-07:00

Thursday is graduate donut day.
Yessss.
Free donuts and bagels for grad students every Thursday from 8-10 am.

This donut looks identical to the one I ate. I almost think that this picture is OF my donut, but I'm quite certain it is just a look-alike. I usually opt for the honey wheat bagel, but today I was feeling unusually sprinkley. Perhaps it was because I was here at school before dawn. I needed a little color in my life.

The Story

2011-02-21T11:27:00.001-07:00

Once upon a time we went to Mexico for our Senior trip. It was a BLAST! We were there for two weeks or something and wore bandanas most of the time. This made us look lame in nearly every picture but it was fun. We visited old ruins and stayed in cool hotels. Highlights include:

Braiding hair into the wee hours of the morning, only to have Jordan come into his room (which was where we were braiding, of course), and yell in fury, "mi casa no es su casa !"
Fireflies in the forest... thousands of them... that we got to see on our midnight climb of this huge pyramid Lamanai.
Taking a river cruise on some exotic river.
Swimming in a jungle pool and Bro. Pearce telling us, "Don't pee in this pool. The parasites will swim into your bladder."
Making jokes about President Hoover inventing the vacuum.
Living in beach huts in Cancun for a week. And taking naps in hammocks. Yesss.
Writing "MEXICO" on our bodies in sunscreen and getting SOOOOOOOOo burned. Exhibited by JP in the picture below... ouch. And hilarious.

A Mexico Memory

2011-02-20T22:15:00.003-07:00

Just remembering my senior trip to Mexico.

Laughed out loud when I came upon this memory:

Note: not my legs.

C.S. Lewis

2011-02-17T15:12:00.000-07:00

You know that quesiton, "If you could meet anyone in the world who lived at any time, who would it be?"

I would choose C.S. Lewis. Twenty thousand times over I would choose C.S. Lewis.

And then I would choose Pocahontas so we can finally figure out how we're related and so the Kauffmans will stop doubting my singular claim to fame. :)

Well I guess my cousin was a back-up dancer in a movie, so I have two claims to fame.
OH WAIT I was in High School Musical.
So nevermind about Pocahontas.

Nevermind after one more comment: On our honeymoon to Disney World I took a picture with Pocahontas. If we had remembered our cameras (of even ONE camera ???? how do you forget that) and if the picture wasn't taken on a disposable camera and therefore the only copy we have is a little print (aka not digital, and I don't want to bust out the scanning skills) then I'd post it.

Annnyway.

C. S. Lewis.

I want to grow up to think like him. And to be able to write like him. And to understand Christ like he seems to. He's witty too. And he lived in England and spent his time at Oxford. Here is one, or two, or three quotes of the day. I pulled these from Goodreads. Which I also love.

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."

--The Four Loves

"God can't give us peace and happiness apart from Himself because there is no such thing."

"I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept his claim to be God. That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic — on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at him and kill him as a demon or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about his being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to."

-- Mere Christianity

"The homemaker has the ultimate career. All other careers exist for one purpose only - and that is to support the ultimate career. "

Castle

2011-02-07T18:39:00.000-07:00

Um, my feet hurt.
And there's a hurricane outside.
But Castle is on tonight.
And Chase brought me a snack to school.
Bam.

Tess of the d'Urbervilles

2011-02-03T15:59:00.000-07:00

So I'm an avid Goodreads fan as of late. I think I have like three friends on there so far so I can keep up on their reading very closely. Lindsay started reading "Tess of the d'Urbervilles" last week. I have not read this book. I only have memories of high school friends hating it all through AP English. I'm all for classics. Really. Maybe I just don't like rape-death type novels? Anyway, I teasingly commented the following on her announcement of Tess as a literary endeavor:

"Lindsay. I think highly of your opinion, and of your fashion style. I will be here for you when you cry after putting yourself through the horror of this book ;) ha ha"

Obviously Lindsay is a great friend. She is one of my three Goodreads friends. That alone says something. She thinks I'm funny so I especially like her. However, her nice home-ward-sister thought I was uncultured. She replied to my comment:

"Linds.... I don't know Carly. I'm sure she's wonderful. But she's WRONG. You'll love this book. It is tragic, but nobody writes tragedy like Hardy! Savor it girl."

Haaaaa ha ha ha ha. I hope they both savor the tragedy. Sew that into a pillow.

FebRUary

2011-02-02T13:31:00.002-07:00

Thanks to 3rd grade spelling I have February under. my. belt.

I don't say this much, but thank you grade school.

Constructive Criticism

2011-01-31T13:30:00.000-07:00

Who likes getting yelled at?
Not me, thanks summuch.

I'm soooooooo grateful I didn't marry a yeller. Or a belittle-er. Chase is the best, basically.

Contrastingly, you know when people get those eyes that say, "I'm suffocating you in my mind?"
That's freaky, folks.

Anger therapy for sure.

I was watching BYUTV once (because we get that channel, one of the seven) and a portion of education week came up. This sweet couple (the Andersons) made a point that I will always remember:

"Healthy people don't attack."

Amen.

That is a healthy dose of freedom right there.

So here's my lingering question. If criticism can be so detrimental, how can it be good? What makes criticism good/bad?

Passenger Seat

2011-01-28T09:41:00.001-07:00

So it's 7:45 am, I'm driving to school. The sun is just coming up and it is a welcome sight. I usually don't see the sun when I go to school. Or when I come home, for that matter. Anyway, it's foggy and pretty cool out, although I hardly can appreciate the cool-ness because I have to put on at least a little bit of makeup as I drive so I don't scare my teammates. Practical, right? However, I was paying attention enough to notice that the "buckle your seatbelt" light for my passenger seat was blinking. For a split second I wondered why it was blinking when I was the only person in the car, and then I actually LOOKED at the seat piled with my backpack and huge coat and a change of clothes, etc. etc. and realized that yes, I do carry the equivalent of an extra person around with me every day. NBer.

Ode to Jimmer

2011-01-27T08:52:00.000-07:00

~~Ode~~ Haiku to Jimmer
(I'm much better at haikus, let's be honest.)

Number thirty-two,
You have surpassed Chuck Norris.
San Diego smashed.

Oh Jimmer, your face
Is on the door of my boss,
Full bod', kinda weird.

Go Cougs.

1:00

2011-01-26T13:53:00.000-07:00

Well, we meet again, 1:00 hour. Done teaching, waiting to help out in 281, and contemplating productivity in the meantime. I must admit, I looooove teaching country dance. My students are still in the "is this crazy girl serious?" stage but that usually passes around the first month. Watching them figure me out is always an adventure. A sort of strange experience that I rather fancy. Chase says he went though it when he first met me. I remember when he was going through it. Glad he survived. At that time I was also living with a gaggle of my BFF crazies, which made matters worse I'm sure. I only partly blame Reagan for the way I am. But then Chase came over to this side of sanity and was crazier than I even was right back. And he beat me at Blurt. That's how I knew I loved him.

I misspoke the other day: I remembered that my dear ol' Pappy actually said, "Life's hard then you die." Uplifting, no? I remember him saying this as we drove down the hill to my house and not even being surprised. Once I went to Pappy when I was, oh, six, with a complaint (I'm positive it was legit and probably painful) and he answered, upon careful inspection, "Ohhh, this always happens three days before you die." I'm telling you, my childhood was traumatic. That's why my fun consisted of making beds on the shelves of the kitchen pantry. (Food, quiet, perfect, right?) A favorite hang out for sure.

Additionally, just as a little "cherry on top" point, my Grandpa likes to say, "I've had worse than that on my eye ball" in response to our bruises. Mmmm. I suppose my dad was acting purely out of overwhelming genetic influence. :)

Anyway. I finished watching all of Design Star and have to admit that I loved it. My husband might appreciate me doing some sort of housework now instead of spending my time tucked away in the kitchen (where I found a spot that my computer can pick up a wi-fi signal) watching hulu. But one day when I apply all that I've learned and our house is simply gorgeous (with real comfy beds in the pantry-- none of this 'bring your blanket to sleep on the hard wood' stuff anymore) he will be sooooooo thankful I spend my time obsessing over design.

I secretly want to just be done with school and brush up on my interior design stuff and go for it. However, RC Willey makes my head pulse. That's the only thing holding me back. They do have hot dogs though. Another secret- I love hot dogs? Okay, and I love research. Secretly. I'm just nervous that I'll get out of this school marathon and then realize I have no marketable abilities and spend my days assembling bedlifts. (Though that was a good adventure, wasn't it?)

For your viewing pleasure, here is little Chase. He is my sweet friend's new son. He's a genuine cut-ie. I have been friends with his mom Courtney for eons. We started out as enemies kind of. In second grade I splashed her by rambunctiously kicking water in a puddle and she was upset. While she expressed her frustration to me I jumped with both feet in the hugest puddle between us and soaked her. I have no idea why she still talks to me. Those were the bratty days. I'm much better now. Bless my mother for making me call to apologize. I can't imagine not being friends with Court. Especially because she single-handedly saved my bahooshka in my high school AP classes. For real. We were in Les Mis together too. I was a "lady of the night" and she was a nice peasant girl. (A good representation of us, wouldn't you say?) Anyhow, we've note-passed and nail-painted and mountain-climbed our way through life together. And now I have a camera so we photo'd her son. It was a pleasure.

Life, eh?

2011-01-24T13:27:00.001-07:00

So life is hard.

Someone told me that once. I think it was probably my dad. And he'd incorporate a Princess Bride quote right after, "anyone who says differently is selling something." I suppose Westley (who is on my top ten men of all time list, right up there with MyBoyfriendZacEfron) was saying that life is pain, but I figure that's quite nearly the same thing.

So life is hard and painful.

Now what?

That's what we've been asking ourselves these last few days. Can happiness coexist with pain? Are hard things future-ruining? My gut tells me positive, true answers and my logical reasoning has a hard time putting words to them. Why did my neighbor with ALS inspire me so much when he could barely nod his head? And even further, why do we (you, me, whoever) put so many eggs in our own "look what I can do" baskets? The ones who love us don't care. At all. As one who loves, I can say that.

How is it that life really is about something ELSE, something other than performances and reputations and clothes and boats and shoes (dare I say it?) and dream homes in Boston? Because really, and in our recent reality, there HAS to be something else.

1/4 Chinese. Minimum.

2011-01-21T10:37:00.002-07:00

My brother is Chinese.

Okay my brother is absolutely not Chinese, but he tells people that he is, and they believe him. He's established a false Asian brotherhood with many. He also refuses to wear shoes, but that's beyond the point.

My other brother lives in China. That's real.

But again, he is in no way Chinese. He is white. 6'4". Huge. And way into football.

My third brother plays as the Chinese soccer team on FIFA. That totally counts.

Today I did my hair in a high, braided, slightly ethnic bun.

Furthermore, my job consists of reading English translations of Chinese focus groups (aka mothers who talk about parenting). The translation was rough. But this fine tuned skill was real-world applicable when I ordered my new ballroom dress from China and had to correspond via email with a sweet lady from Hong King. No prob.

Therefore, by genetic relation, employment situation, and personal style preference, I have declared myself legitimately at LEAST 1/4 Asian for the day.

Obsession? It's Quite Possible.

2011-01-19T13:42:00.000-07:00

So I was blog browsing between classes. Found Emily Henderson's.

Woot! I think I might want to be like her when I grow up. From there I found that she won HGTV's Design Star (okay, it's times like these I crave cable).

And now I will be in a dark closet for the next week catching all the episodes on Hulu. Perfect.

Other Things

2011-01-10T18:35:00.000-07:00

So here I am again, listening to the Weepies when there is research to be read, papers to be written, and coding to be done. I couldn't be happier. I'm caught in a pleasantly pensive sort of mood, content and contemplative. I suppose this is about right where I end up most January beginnings.

I was able to be in a class today where I learned again that I have lots to learn. Those realizations leave me feeling embarrassed at first. Like clockwork, a flash of hopelessness then streaks by (sometimes more substantial and longlasting than others), but if I have my head screwed on, with a bit of intentionality they eventually resolve into feelings of excitement and renewed dedication. And then I reach for my pen.

I'm not sure why I can't ever remember anything by myself. I am much better at life when I have a pen. Not only is my time management improved when I write, but somehow life's greatest lessons come out on paper in front of me.

I'm the kind to keep post its in every room. I make lists and lists. Of everything. Just because I like it. I really do love lists. That's something new I learned as I wrote just now. Books to read, places to go, favorite memories, why I love my husband, best things to do in the winter, places that are warmer than Provo. A list of lists.

I also like checking off lists. Usually I'm not focused enough to get anything done on them. It's genetic though, not my fault. My grandma carries a week's worth of customized "To Do" lists at a time, crossing and adding as she goes. She writes with a felt pen. Always has. And she writes in code too. I imagine it's unintentional... supposedly it's English. Things I've learned from Grandma: pedicures are for everyone; you can never have too many shoes; hand written notes never go out of style; don't tell Grandpa about the extra cash in the birthday card; slice grapes once in half or eat them frozen; tupperware comes in all sizes; and hunking bread is the best way to go.

I realized that maybe I make lists to make myself feel in control. Okay yeah that's probably true. But I think I learn by looking at things. And by simply writing. However, I think I also get caught in ruts by writing everything down. There's probably a happy medium, isn't there? But nothing beats beautiful paper. Carly's Simple Pleasure #102.

I just finished reading "The Alchemist" by Paulo Coelho. Loved the book. I loved the take-home idea that concentrating too much on the future or the past leaves us unaware of the present. And truthfully, the future is made up by what we do now, and the past is important only in that it places us on our current trajectory (to be unaltered or reassessed all the time). I've been thinking about following one's "Personal Legend" all this week, so to read this book just hit the spot. An omen, perhaps?

I like to think that Chase was part of my Personal Legend. I wrote him down on my "boys of note" list in 9th grade. And that is fun.

Mainly Because I Can't Decide

2010-12-15T18:33:00.000-07:00

I can't decide if I like it, but I'm intrigued.

Love the music, but I've already told you that.

Love the dancing.

Love the animation.

But it's sad. Do I like the sad? Dunno.

Thought of You from Ryan J Woodward on Vimeo.

Ha ha hahhhhhaaarry Potter!

2010-11-30T13:20:00.001-07:00

Ohhhh I laughed.

DanceSport Revisited

2010-11-27T13:24:00.002-07:00

Here are some pictures I loved from DanceSport this month.

And with teacher pride....

Giving Thanks

2010-11-27T13:12:00.000-07:00

We've been hanging out with family all week.
Currently Chase is workin his brothers on the Wii.
I don't even miss school one bit.

Here are the highlights:

The Thornock clan

Hangin with the gals:

And more to come, I'm sure.

Disney Lovin

2010-11-24T13:55:00.002-07:00

Because who can resist Disney love when there are three huge papers to be written?

Obviously not me.

Halloween!!

2010-11-23T17:20:00.001-07:00

Meet Mary Poppins and Bert:

FHE Truth

2010-11-10T07:11:00.003-07:00

Monday night Chase and I had Family Home Evening.
Chase is a really good conductor.
As is Cowser tradition, he started with, "Welcome to Family Home Evening, Carly."
And I respond as quickly as humanly possible, "Thank you. Welcome to Family Home Evening."
Growing up we'd try to trick each other by saying the name of someone who we weren't looking at.... who hopefully wasn't paying attention. Because then they can't say "Thankswelcometofamilyhomeevening" nearly as quickly (if they aren't paying attention, you know?). But in our family now there's only the two of us for FHE. So I always am ready.

Then it proceeded as follows:

"Our opening song will be I'm A Little Tea Pot. With Actions."

And that's what we did.

The closing song was Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater. Chase tried to sing a second verse with Peter Piper, but that didn't work.

We are the Thornocks.

For a Snowy Tuesday

2010-11-09T14:28:00.000-07:00

This song is great.
The youtube video counterpart is retarded.
So press play then close your eyes or look at pictures of Switzerland.

Colbie Caillat, everyone:

Things Picked Up from the Grad Lab

2010-10-27T14:01:00.000-06:00

Fun things go around when your peers teach marriage prep and child development.
Love this:

Others and Mine

2010-10-13T15:01:00.000-06:00

So I've realized that I generally have more stamina for looking at and reading others' blogs than writing my own.

What are some of your favorite blogs out there? I'm on the lookout for something hilariously ironic.

Here are a few of my favorite photography spots in the blogging world:
http://www.sarabphotography.blogspot.com/
http://rebekahwestover.blogspot.com
http://rachaeltylerphotography.blogspot.com
http://theyoungrens.com/blog

Enjoy!

As Promised

2010-10-01T18:32:00.001-06:00

Shiner

2010-09-30T10:12:00.002-06:00

I should really wait til I can post a picture, but that will have to come later because the story is just too good.

I gave Chase a black eye. Ha ha ha ha ha.

He was tickling me to no end, and in my flailing, I clocked him.

Accident, but funny.

Rude, but true.

And he has a big ol' shiner that all of his dance students ask about.

Ha ha

Today

2010-09-24T12:30:00.007-06:00

There are beautiful things in life. Things like falling leaves in a cool canyon and fresh raspberries. The things I find myself loving most are simple. Simple with a little bit of texture, like solid colored pleats and hair styles without any trace of bobby pins or elastic bands, like beach days without makeup, and long runs down field flanked roads.

It takes a little bit of relaxation to see these things, I think. Often I can't appreciate the simple because I'm too swamped by everything else and the accompanying complexity. I suppose things progress to chaos without intention and attention, and I see that every day. I love the chances that occasionally come to step back and just breathe and simplify.

In school we're discussing self esteem. Random subject switch here, but hang with me. With self esteem come all of these words and implied meanings, such as esteem, worth, value, perception, celebration, pride, confidence, humility, success, importance. My professor asked, "So, is self esteem good or bad?" while we were discussing articles that argued both. Which is it? Is it good to feel valued and worthwhile as a person? Is that self esteem? Is it beneficial to be concerned with ourselves, preoccupied with our appearance and performance? Does happiness stem from focusing on others? Is happiness self esteem, even? Does self esteem matter; is self esteem a lifestyle by-product?

As I was contemplating these things, I realized that I really don't know. I have my ideas. But what I do know though, is that I feel most at peace with the simple. I like to spend my afternoons in a place of stimulating challenge and peaceful growth, dotted with both solitary moments and social relationships. Does where I find happiness indicate my self esteem? Did Christ have high self esteem? You know, I feel strange saying yes or no. I feel like peace is leaving self esteem alone... letting go of offense and personal celebration. The things others do or say can be met with respect from me, and with healthy respect of myself, I can interpret comments and situations in a good way.

If self esteem is how we feel about ourselves, dependant on the mirrors we see socially, then I'm tired already for even thinking about how to "increase" my own. It is insanity to try to control others. If self esteem is truly a feeling of self worth and value, then truth usually doesn't come from others anyway. Too bad we're all imperfect. My personal, Carly philosophy is that self worth is what is important, and self esteem (regarding how we interpret social interaction and performance in other domains and all that) is a distraction.

And now I hear my professor, "And how does that relate to development? Are three year olds cognitively in a place to say 'Hey Mom, what you say about me doesn't matter'?" And again, I don't know. Well, I do actually. They're not. So in that way, this whole process is jus t that, a process. Perhaps we have to learn starting at the bottom of the "ideal self perception" ladder, beginning with recognizing and trying to organize those mirrors we have (because that's all we have), and as we mature digging deeper to find truth about ourselves, or worth. Because I feel that the truth is worth.

Simple?

Perhaps it is that simple, and there's just some texture to it.

Cornell

2010-09-16T09:40:00.000-06:00

So maybe I want to get a Ph.D....
At Cornell...
See it here

Hmmm

2010-09-16T09:38:00.002-06:00

I'm kind of really wanting to come up with something masterful to put into words, but I feel that my cold has sucked the life out of me. That's rather unfortunate.

However, my class was canceled this morning, so I can spend this time "productively." Right.

I did learn some interesting things yesterday though, and they have nothing to do with productively getting ahead on homework.

One of which involves the idea that healthy people don't attack. If someone attacks you, they are not in a healthy place, and you don't have to go there. Healthy people don't attack. That's freeing, don't you think?

On Second Thought

2010-09-01T11:28:00.000-06:00

Umm... I decided that the third day of school would be a good day to become a drinker. That is, if disappointment and homework piles constituted a valid excuse for abandonment of values. I picked the wrong week to stop swearing.

And So It Begins

2010-08-30T16:55:00.003-06:00

For me, beginning a new school year comes with a big bag of emotions and a slew of memories. From first days past, I remember busting out that "first day of school outfit" that had been saved for weeks in anticipation. I remember perfecting the technique of expert locker opening after significant worrying. I remember organizing my elementary school desk so that I could get to my notebook and my pencils at the same time, while being sure to leave a few inches open down the center of the desk. The empty center was important because I needed to access the quarter sized holes that were always drilled in the bottom of our elementary desks, through which my second grade girlfriends and I had a secret and very elite note-passing tradition. I remember wailing at my poor mom when I was little about my hair… what a saint she is. (Especially when she'd help me get the roller-brush out of my tangled mane after I tried to comb it myself.) I remember boarding a plane to begin a new school year in a foreign country. I remember giggling with old friends again as we moved into our Bel-Aire Belmont digs on "school eve."

Each year I look forward to the beginning of my all time favorite season ever, autumn. I love seeing people again after summer adventures. And I absolutely love football (don't tell my husband). In my black bag of emotions this year, it's easy to find the expected excitement to begin something new. Also mixed into the excitement is a tiredness from waking up before the sun, and then sweating hard before anyone has had the chance to appreciate that I actually did my hair ha ha. There's nervousness about course load and audition results, and there's a distinct and piercing feeling of mourning over summer time.

Ohhh, I just really don't think I'm ready for 6 am-6 pm shifts at the Y. I'm not ready to scour databases and write methodology sections of research papers. If you were sitting beside me, you might hear me whimper. I'm gonna miss not having homework. I'm gonna miss ditching the semblance of responsibility. Because though I've been doing this school thing for 17 years now, it still isn't easy to sit still for three hours at a time.

But this year is different than any other. I feel like I'm choosing to be here. Me. Because I want to. (Supposedly I always have had a "choice," but you know, parental command, cultural stigma, pride, pressures of planning for a future, etc. always get in the way.) I'm studying what I love. I'm keeping busy, I have a great parking permit, and I have a schedule. I even have a carrel!! So through my soft defiant whimpers, my shoulders are slowly squaring up, and I'm secretly stoked to be back in Cougar land for another round.

The Hub

2010-08-11T12:01:00.002-06:00

This is the Hub.

Ridiculously good looking, no?

He is wonderful.
He is wonderful for a lot of reasons.

He is built in food storage:

Oooh, that's dark. Sorry.

He is ten times supportive:

This is the Hub chasing seagulls away from my Easter Egg at our annual Egg Roll.

He brings me flowers (even just last week):

He fixes cars:

He laughs at my jokes, and makes funny ones himself:

I like this picture.

He is still my friend even though my feet stink and his don't:

He is warm when I am cold:

(from Reed Photographic)

He doesn't mind quesadillas for dinner:

He's great on the dance foor:

He is confident about who he is:

Okay, no jokes:

He absolutely saves me in the nursery:

ha ha ha, no the kids are actually really great.

But most of all, he's just wonderful because that's who he is...
And he's mine.
Bam. :)

The Luge

2010-08-10T15:38:00.001-06:00

So I love Utah. I love the weather, especially the thunderstorms, as raved about last week. I love college football season and the built-in (perhaps dwindling?) rivalry in Utah. I love the mountains. I love the rolling hills, etc. Lovin the lakes, and especially lovin Juab County, the subject of my fourth grade report. I love my friends and family that live along the Wasatch Front. However, also making their homes along the Wasatch Front are these monsters, which I do not love:

I-15.
Never ending construction.
Cement barricades for miles.
Seemlingly empty bobcats and dumptrucks.
The commuters that like to rubberneck at the rubber cones... maybe they didn't see them yesterday, or the day before, or last year, or five years ago...

Hate, hate, double hate....loathe entirely.

I'm fairly certain those barrels spawn out there on the asphalt too, multiplying exponentially and unexplainably.

Chase and I have dubbed the especially tricky piece of "work," spanning from 600 N in Salt Lake until 2600 S in Bountiful, THE LUGE. Fasten your helmets and your seat belts, innocent drivers, because the twists and turns here might get the best of you. And you can forget about trying to text in your lap altogether.

The Luge's main characteristics include:

A Surprise 2-Lane Challenge: To merge or not to merge? No choice. You merge. And you'd better do it in ten yards or else you and your passenger will be permanently separated by your new found enemy, the chevron-bearing sign screwed to the concrete barrier, placed ridiculously in the middle of your lane just ahead.

A No-Mercy Policy: What? The semi truck is drifting into your lane because they are having a hard time too? Sorry. You will be smashed to smitherines against the concrete immediately beyond your lane boundary. Sometimes the concrete even dips over the line, just for fun.
Flood Preparedness Gone Wild: "We need those huge grates in the middle of your lane... in case ... it rains."


Oh dang, they were supposed to be OFF the road?

The "Who Needs Lagoon?" Effect: Really... the Cliffhanger is a good time? Heck no. Visit I-15 for all of your roller coaster thrills. Your stomach might churn for the worse during one of our pavement ~~mishaps~~ stitches, giving you the feeling that you are right there on the Rocket. Sudden drops in altitude, direction, and speed make THE LUGE a must-see summer event.
A "Close Your Eyes, and It Might Go Away" Experiment: No emergency lanes... if you don't leave room for them, the emergencies cease. Pretty soon all the new highways will have this feature. Oh, that car stalled in the middle of the two lane LUGE just last week? Flat tire you say? Naaah, they must have been sight seers. The factory view must have put them in a comma. Lucky for you to have traffic slow down enough that you could get a zoomed and enhanced i phone picture of the sand quarry to the east!!! You ARE welcome. Indeed, emergencies don't happen on THE LUGE. Ever. (cue toothy grin.)

Death By Thunder

2010-08-04T17:49:00.001-06:00

We all remember being little kids, terrified at the earth-shattering sounds coming from the sky on stormy nights.

I remember getting a bit older and absolutely loving thunderstorms. Those were my favorite times to have "porch parties," grabbing a good book, sitting on my family's deck furniture and propping my feet up on the banister to watch the summer shower. Occasionally, my neighbor friend would come over to join. Good times. Good books. Good conversation. And best of all, great smells. There's nothing quite like the smell of a warm rain. (Except maybe the smell of the car's air conditioner when it just turns on, when it's not all hot and muggy, of course.)

Last night I witnessed the loudest thunder I've ever heard. Chase and I woke up to rolling booms and flashing lightening across the golf course we live on. It was crazy!!! We sat in bed, opened our windows, and enjoyed the show. Incredible

Funny.

2010-08-04T17:44:00.000-06:00

I was entertained by this little ad.

Craving a Little Silence

2010-07-13T10:47:00.002-06:00

Ever wish the world were just... quieter?

The Right Major

2010-06-26T10:55:00.001-06:00

I realized this week, once again, that I love what I am studying. I'm stoked for my master's program.

That is a good thing.

Because BYU gave me a parking ticket for parking within my "designated" lot space... and they refuse to revoke it. Pride will be our downfall... easily seen, of course, and without question, is their pride... and I suppose I might have a little bit of pride to deal with, maybe. Maybe once I had pride. Anyway, the incident left me momentarily livid. Luckily my husband will humor me and watch chick flicks to subdue my nastier side.

I hate parking tickets and those that give them. That's what I call loathing by association.

As Auntie Lind would say, "Rude, but true."

And nothing personal...

Blustery Days and Deviled Eggs

2010-06-09T15:14:00.000-06:00

For Family Home Evening, Chase and I tried to fly.

It was almost a success.

Then I made deviled eggs.
First time.
Beautiful.

Identity Crisis of the Machine Man

2010-06-03T09:52:00.000-06:00

I almost feel bad for them.
It must be hard to not know...
Am I a man, a pedestrian?
Or am I a vehicle?

In Utah County, bikers are a common sight, especially when the weather morphs into a beautifully sunny day after a spring snowstorm. I admire the way they are economizing, preventing global warming, saving money, and increasing their physical activity.

Therefore I do not want to kill them.

Though they aren't making my bicycle-avoiding attempts all that successful. I swear I almost hit someone every day. And I credit this to the identity crisis. There are very clear laws about where a car drives, where a car stops, and who has right of way. There are also clear laws about where pedestrians cross the street. We all know that crosswalks are for the safety of the walker, and for the awareness of the driver. Win-win, right?? But where do the humans-riding-on-fiberglass-tubed-two-wheelers belong?

I would assert: They do not know. And therefore, I, in my CowCar, am terrified of hitting someone.

I would simply ask that they decide. Choose one or the other people, or ride in the bike lane, for heaven's sake. Wanna use the crosswalk? Act like a pedestrian. Please do not cut into my lane of traffic from the sidewalk. That will get you killed.

OTHER THINGS THAT MIGHT GET YOU KILLED WHILE RIDING A BIKE:
1) Riding in the middle of the road going 2 mph
2) Riding on the side of the road at 6 am. Just sayin'.
3) Biking next to me on the side of the road, and then ignoring all stop signs and riding across the crosswalk. I share the road, you obey the law. Thank you.
4) Riding next to my car without any hands on the handlebar. That's asking for it.
5) Blindly changing lanes in front of my car. I'm bigger than you, whether I like it or not.
6) Riding between cars on the road. Bad idea.
7) Doing all of the above without a helmet.

I pledge to be more aware of my potentially healthier, yet more hazardous, commuting counterparts.

Thus spake the Raven.

A Little Ballroom

2010-05-14T10:33:00.008-06:00

Ya know, I'm not sure I'd call ballroom dancing a sport. Some might disagree with me, but compared to the highly objective nature of other "sports," ballroom dancing to me is more of an art.

… and anyone who claims ballroom dancing is completely objective has never done it…

Art can be highly athletic. Yes indeed. Ballroom dancers can sweat, believe you me. And dancing on high heels? That takes at least four muscles.

Ballroom dancing is the perfect mix between Cirque du Soleil and track. We dance around in 400 meter dash form wearing rhinestones and gluing gems to our earlobes. Yeah, I'd say it's just about perfect.

Except you have to run the 400 m in high heels, don't forget.

While lifting your left side.

And who knew that your ribs had a position?

One day in the "Let's invent Latin technique" meeting, someone said, "Hey I've got it! Let's have proper technique consist of turning out the feet, but when the knees bend they should come forward so that all ballerinas will go crazy if they try the samba!" "Great idea!" "You're genius!" "Wow that's comfortable, too!"

Ha ha ha.

I am seriously in love with ballroom dancing. It's one thing to travel gracefully by yourself (something I'm still working on), but it's another thing completely to do it with a partner. I love it.

Another thing that I love is the fact that ballroom dancers don't dress like they're about to sweat their brains out. It's all dress pants, button up shirts, ties, and skirts. And it works! And we still sweat. What this means is that we do a lot of high(er)-quality laundry at our house, and Chase's ties dot our home as decorations, along with my shoes. But my shoe obsession isn't related to ballroom.

Actually it might be.

In conclusion, I wouldn't say that we're ruled by our athletic art form of choice, but in the Thornock house, it might just be common place to bust out a samba roll during dinner prep, NBD (no big deal).

2010-05-13T10:53:00.002-06:00

As of late, I have made a significant change.

I have turned 22.

Twenty-two is wonderful. I shall tell you why.
It's symmetrical.
It's even.
If divided in half, the quotient is symmetrical also.
22 is among the highest f stops on my camera.
I have 22 friends.
I love tutu's.
I am older than 21 but not really old.
I have graduated from college, therefore I can do whatever I want.
I have a wonderful husband.
I can remember 22- I can make goals that correlate: 22 photography sessions, 22 pack of abs… etc
22 oz of soda is less than a full can and therefore legal.

The New Book

2010-04-29T10:18:00.000-06:00

Tuesday at the library I picked up The Time Traveler's Wife. I haven't heard much about it, nor have I seen the movie.

Does anyone love it?
Does anyone hate it?

Does anyone have any other great summer reads to recommend?

Picture 3

2010-04-28T09:32:00.000-06:00

Picture 2 of Summer

2010-04-27T20:39:00.000-06:00

Yesterday we did bridals for my beautiful friend Clarissa. She's been married a while, but she consented to help me out and was an awesome model. Her little girl is so cute too.

Jessica

2010-04-26T17:31:00.001-06:00

This is little Jessica. She is absolutely beautiful. I'll be posting more on my photography blog in the next few days!

Edit...

2010-04-20T15:44:00.000-06:00

The unschooling piece was on Good Morning America. Here's the link.

Thanks for the clarification!

A Bit Outraged

2010-04-19T12:31:00.001-06:00

Ah, hello.
I'd like to apologize in advance for my possibly passionate discourse.

As a second precursor, please remember that I really have not done research on this, nor have I any personal contacts that believe these things. Also, I have watched the Today Show maybe twice in my life. Carry on.

This morning I was getting ready with the Today Show on in the family room. (I like the background noise.) They were talking about this new phenomenon, or the "increasingly popular movement" (because people have been apparently doing this for years; how they survived is beyond me), called "unschooling." Yes indeed, these people are saying that their children learn better when left to their own devices. I really wish that there were clips available from the show. It was unreal. These parents are talking to the reporter, straight faced, saying, "Our kids will learn what they need to learn. If they need to learn calculus, they will. If they have a need for science, they'll learn it on their own." Right. And good luck to you.

I have absolutely no problem with home schooling. In fact, I see a lot of potential benefits from children being taught by their parents in a controlled environment. I also see a great many benefits from going to public (or even private) school. Teach your kids however you'd like. Teach them everything you know. Let them learn from others. But teach them. And, in my opinion, do it according to some sort of value system. We know no one else will teach them values if parents don't.

Another favorite quote of mine from the show was, "If they want to watch TV, I'm not mad at all because I will know that they accomplished what they wanted to today." Ha- in the next clip the mom even asks her four year old, "Are we going to brush our teeth today?" Let me raise my eyebrows in your general direction as you show me the four year old that consistently hops right to it. Good luck paying for dental costs (because of course, the parents are left with the consequences of their children eating donuts for breakfast (because they get to choose what to eat and where to eat it)and neglecting any sort of personal hygiene). Along with the passive approach to education, these parents (if you can call them that) let their children do whatever they'd like in general. In essence, there are no chores to take the place of the lack of textbooks in these situations to say the least.

I'm tempted to cite research that shows every awful consequence of neglectful parenting. Maybe I'll just refer you to the old Roald Dahl favorite, Matilda, where her parents definitely demonstrate the benefits of "unschooling." I bet Matilda is their poster child, actually... the kid who is incredible, going to the library across town at age 5 alone, writing her name in her baby food, etc. Whenever I watch that movie I think, "Yes! That is how I hope society evolves. This is it! We've found the solution."

I'm left wishing these parents good luck.
I'm left wishing these children good luck, as they grow up and are expected to be contributing members of society. Perhaps one day they'll want to get a job? Maybe they'll want to know how to do the dishes? I don't know.

The reporter asked an unschooled gal (probably about 16) what she would do if she wants to go to college. She replied, "If I decide that I ever want to go to college, I'll pick up a textbook." Again, good luck with that. Once upon a time I almost thought that I could ballroom dance if I put on a pair of pumps. Ha. Oh wait, one more: Ha. I sincerely hope, that as they are self directed in their pursuits, they find themselves with enough time to survive. At all.

Yes, I realize that for centuries college was an uncommon privilege for a very small percentage of the population. I realize that people have existed and fared quite well without their GED. They also didn't have cars. Or ipods. Or air conditioners. Education is what fuels our society. It is such an asset to development. I can't even fathom the impact of widespread unschooling. Have fun in your outhouses, still not reading.

Because I understand that shouting "BS!" from the rooftops is unnecessary and unrefined, I'd like to take a break from my rant and refer to this past general conference of the LDS church. (I'm not sure I anticipated using those two acronyms in the same sentence; I question the propriety of that.) I was so impressed with the emphasis the Church leaders placed on the importance of teaching your children. I see our world crumbling in such an interesting way. The family is under attack from every angle. Abandonment of marriage, abandonment of children, etc, etc. So hold on. Hold on and remember the truths.

In conclusion, as the world employs independence-oriented attacks on my family and my community, my answer is clearly and (increasingly) calmly, "no."

here's a link to a particular conference talk that stood out to me
http://lds.org/conference/talk/display/0,5232,23-1-1207-11,00.html