living in The Capital

I love living in the capital city. It makes me feel important.

When I was living in California, I thought all those people living in Sacramento must be slightly more important than me. I can only assume that that's how those people in the other, non-capital cities in Idaho must feel about me now.

It's only fair.


There are some perks to living in the capital. For example, when I walk down the street and I see a guy with glasses and the remnants of white hair, I think, hey! cool! It's Larry Craig, Idaho's most famous resident! And I get ready to give him a pleasant smile. But I'm pretty sure every instance of this has been a false alarm.

And when I'm trying to pay my taxes last minute, I can just skip on over to visit my friends at the state tax office, no problem.

Also, once I was at a The Cheesecake Factory, and I saw Dee Sarton, local news anchor. And then I did my excited face. You'd better believe that you won't be running into Dee Sarton in the outskirts of the capital!

As you can see, the enticements to live in the state capital are endless. ENDLESS. I recommend it.

Sorry, children

Last night, Seth woke up at about midnight to an earth-shattering noise.

He assumed someone was breaking into our apartment by way of bulldozer, so he looked around for a baseball bat, which we do not own.

So he grabbed his cell phone, which would have been good for poking eyes out if it had been a little sharper.

He went downstairs and found nothing, so he looked out the window to discover a car where it did not belong--in the living room of the apartment across the street.

Then came the crowds and the ambulances and the entire Boise City police force.

Later he woke me up to tell me what had happened. I am sure I said something really intelligent before dropping back into my previous rock-like sleep condition.

The moral of the story is: Future Children, I am sorry that you will have a mother who will have NO IDEA that you are screaming your heads off if she has passed into the world of the asleep.

The "First Vision" Hustle

Tonight we stopped by an LDS dance festival--which means thousands of Mormon 12-to-18-year-olds were decked out in sparkly costumes doing the cha cha, salsa, cotton-eyed joe, etc., for a crowd of pleased parents and bored siblings. And me and Seth and two of Seth's little brothers. We all filled up the Boise State University basketball arena. Impressive.

It was all pretty straightforward until they announced a group to perform The Hustle, which the announcer explained was a form of dance popularized in the film Saturday Night Fever with John Travolta.


So I sat back ready for some disco amazingness.

Then over the loudspeakers came the voice of a young man, saying:

"I was born in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and five, on the twenty-third day of December, in the town of Sharon, Windsor county, State of Vermont."

I thought that was weird, but I was ready to accept that soon it would break into a groovy dance mix. The kids began filing onto the basketball court/stage.

Then the young man in the recording said something that sounded familiar.

"There was in the place where we lived an unusual excitement on the subject of religion."

I wasn't quite prepared to place it. I glanced at Seth, startled.

The young man said a few more things, my mind reeling. Then, as music came on beneath the words, the voice said:

"While I was laboring under the extreme difficulties caused by the contests of these parties of religionists, I was one day reading the Epistle of James first chapter and fifth verse, which reads: If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him."

There was no denying it at that point. They were going to dance the Hustle to a song about The First Vision. (If you're not LDS and don't know what that is, click here.)

Oh. No.

And then they did.

Kay, it wasn't as bad as I imagined. They didn't do the John Travolta hustle, or the one my mom taught me from her cheerleader days. It was a slow, smooth hustle with partners. And the song was fine.

But still. THEY DID THE "FIRST VISION" HUSTLE.

It took my breath away. I tried not to offend any parents with my laughter.

those leg things that you wear when you bike.

I am probably the best biker you know. Do you know how I know this? It is because I wear those leg strap things when I bike.

You know, the straps you velcro around your lower calf/ankle to stop your pants from getting into the bike gears?

Yes. Those.

I wear them. Usually just one, actually, because the gears are only on one side. But I have a pair of pants that is extra wide-legged. They look a little something like this:



With a normal pair of pants I just strap up the right leg, but with these pants the left leg tends to swing places it shouldn't swing, also. So both legs get belted down when I wear these.

And then we have a problem because they're nice and billowy for most of the leg, until you get to the lower calf, where they become fitted. Like this:



Or, on the days when I dye my pants gold, like this:

an advertising inspiration

Here is a really good idea for those of you who own car companies or pizza companies or hair salons or whatever.

In your next commercial, describe your next sale as a "bailout" or a "stimulus package."

Your clients will think this is a very innovative idea. Fresh and original.

They'll think, "YEAH, since Wall Street is getting a bailout, I deserve some cheap stuff! THANK YOU, pizza company, for 'bailing me out' with your cheap pizza!" and they'll wink when they use the term "bailout," because it's SO DARN CLEVER.

SO clever.

Just be sure to put "copyright Dani" at the end of the commercial so they know you got the idea from me.

A style guide, according to me

Here is how you spell some words, in my world.

-Yeah

and

-Yay

If you deviate even slightly from these standards of excellence, please consider yourself judged. Even though there is absolutely no authority other than my own that dictates these rules.

In a perfect world

I would press "print," and the printer would obey.

love is in the air

As I was opening my front door to head back to work after lunch, I said "I love you" to Seth. As the words flew out of my mouth, I locked eyes with our mailman, who was on the front step.

He handed me a letter and walked away.

Just like that. Without an "I love you too."

here's me, mingling

I look at the crowded room warily.

I consider my options. There are only two: go mingle or be a failure.

I walk in.

I talk to this one guy who I know and act inappropriately shocked to find out he has children. Like, YOU? YOU have KIDS?

Then I get some food. Strawberries, pineapple chunks.

I consider re-approaching the guy with kids, who's kind of my friend, who is talking to a girl who is also kind of my friend (each has given me a side hug at one point or another), but then I notice another guy I know.

I turn, and he's happy to see me, and I'm happy to see him (in a "we're all mingling here" kind of way), and I happen to vaguely know the guy he's talking to, so we all talk for a bit.

successful interaction, right there.

Then it's time to mingle with someone else, so I go talk to this girl, and we run out of things to say, so I'm like, "it was SO nice to meet you."

Then I'm done. I walk out of the room and get set up for the panel. and the mingling was fine. ish.