I think most people agree that most people in the world are generally nice.  Most people will be kind in most situations.

But if you were the woman (who was most likely nice and kind) waiting in line for the bathroom at Burger King in Sparks, Nevada ten days ago and happened to encounter ME, well then — you might change your mind about the whole ‘most people being kind in most situations’ business.

When you were jiggling the handle to the bathroom door every 60 seconds, dear Burger King Bathroom User, you didn’t know the reason for the delay was an almost 4 year old taking her sweet time.  You didn’t know that her mother had begged her to hurry, which predictably produced the complete opposite action.

You didn’t know that minutes before, that sweet almost 4 year old had emptied her bladder in her baby sister’s car seat while her exhausted mother nursed said baby up front.  You didn’t know the exhausted mother was too exhausted to dig through the luggage in the trunk for replacement clothing, so the almost 4 year old was forced to sit in her wet clothing.

Burger King Bathroom User, you didn’t even know why the exhausted mother was exhausted.  You didn’t know she had already been driving for nine to ten-ish hours through a wasteland (Nevada) with the previously mentioned almost 4 year old and baby.  You didn’t know she was doing that all by her lonesome, and that she had already had to make one emergency potty break for the almost 4 year old, foolishly thinking that was going to be the most stressful part of the drive.

You didn’t know that not two hours into the trip, the almost 4 year old had spilled an entire water bottle — just turned it upside down, and let it empty in the space between the center console and the driver’s seat.  You didn’t know that the almost 4 year old had also spilled apple juice all over her blanket hours before, and then snuggled with said blanket.

You didn’t know that the exhausted mother still had four to five-ish hours on the road ahead of her.

So when you jiggled that handle one too many times and the exhausted mother yelled at you, you didn’t know she was immediately sorry.

Because she then silently marched her sorry self and children to the counter, ordered two milkshakes without a glance your way and ran out of there as fast as she could, never looking you in the eye.

And what you didn’t know, dear handle jiggling lady, is that the exhausted mother was paid back for her bad Burger King behavior, when as she entered the long stretch into California through Donner Pass, her almost 4 year old mumbled, “Uh oh.  It’s ok.  Milkshakes dry.”

The second leg of our exhausting weekend trip was spent with my husband’s brother and family in St. George.  Marty and Mindy recently swapped the beautiful, but brief summers of Northern Utah for year round, never ending summer in Southern Utah.  We miss them up here but we were excited to hang out with them and explore St. George.

Among the highlights of our trip: A visit to Brigham Young’s historic summer home, splashing in a red rock water feature, visiting the St. George temple grounds and eating delicious frozen custard at some place I can’t tell you about because I never looked at the name on the sign.

At the water feature, Lydia spent her time embedding red dust into her white shirt and following her little cousin around like she was his mother.

After that time in the sun, she was exhausted and mad.  We decided that was a perfect time to go visit the temple grounds!  We had to force her to be in our happy family picture.  ”Lydia, come here.  Come HERE.  Get over here now.  I said now!  Now smile.  Look at the gosh darn camera and smile!”

With one grumpy, faceless 3 year old and one hidden, faceless newborn, we decided to heck with the children and did a do-over on our own.

Much better.  Isn’t that a most beautiful temple?  I have no idea how they keep it so white, but I love it.

On our way home, we again decided to lengthen our journey and drove through Kolob Canyon, part of Zion National Park.  Luckily for us, we were traveling on a free national park day.  Otherwise, I don’t think I would recommend paying to see this canyon.  It’s very small, and unless you’re going to do a major hike, you can see much prettier things in the main portion of Zion National Park.  Your pass to the main part of Zion will work here too, but if you’re going to Zion, you may as well stay there the whole time.  Way prettier.

We decided to do an impromptu hike, but we didn’t make it to the viewpoint.  Flip flops and skinny jeans (worn by me that day) are not the best attire for hiking in the dirt and squelching sun.

I am one tired mama.  My most recent weekend jaunt proves I forgot that this little creature is only six weeks old.

Which means I also forgot that having a six week old means I housed said six week old in my body less than two months ago.

Which means I am in a state of perpetual exhaustion, even when I’m sleeping.  Isn’t that one of Newton’s laws?  *A still-tired-from-her-nine-month-pregnancy-new-mama in motion will stay in motion because newborns are just so darn demanding.*

Last Thursday, my little family and I loaded up the car and set out for Cedar City to attend a book signing and meet my favorite author, Firoozeh Dumas (more on that further down).  Mapquest says the journey should only take 3 hours and 44 minutes.  Our total time?  Close to 6 hours.

I thought it wouldn’t be fun enough to simply take the most direct route, stopping to nurse only once.  No, why not add an hour for a scenic drive through a canyon, Nebo Loop?

(Even though the extra hour meant we had to stop for not one nursing, but two, it really was worth it.  Absolutely gorgeous.)

After two onesie changes because of unfortunate diapering experiences, we arrived at the meet-up point to leave our constantly jabbering nearly 4 year old (On a road trip, a preschooler’s mouth in motion will stay in motion until…well, it just never stops.) in the safe care of her aunt and uncle, found a place to eat dinner, completed yet one MORE nursing session and headed into the auditorium at Southern Utah University where I excitedly met Firoozeh Dumas.

Firoozeh is the author of Funny in Farsi and Laughing Without an Accent, two laugh out loud memoirs that give you great insight into the positive aspects of Iranian culture (which is refreshing because who ever hears happy stories about that misunderstood culture?) and show that we are all more similar than we think.

I have loved her books for a long time and have always said I’d like to meet her in real life. When I found out she would be in my state, not even a babe in arms could prevent me from being at the event.  (My husband actually had the babe in arms that night so I could enjoy the evening, and it’s a darn good thing for me that he did. 10 minutes into Firoozeh’s talk, he had to go stand in the back to calm the little party pooper.)

I have emailed Firoozeh a couple times to tell her how much I enjoy her books.  Before I left for this trip, I emailed Firoozeh again to tell her I would be at her talk and that I was excited to meet her.  She was kind enough to come into the audience and say hello to me when I arrived on the front row.  Alas, our conversation lasted all of 30 seconds because important people in suits needed to speak to her.

In her talk (to a packed house), Firoozeh shared anecdotes from her life and had everyone laughing.  She’s just as funny in person as she is on paper.  After her talk, I headed out to the book signing and just happened to be second in line.  I wanted to have a little bit of time to talk to her, but that woman has FANS!  The line behind me seemed endless from where I was standing and I didn’t want to be rude to the waiting people, so I got my books signed, told her again how much I like her writing and was off!

I was sad I didn’t get more time to tell her what an inspiration she is.  I wanted to tell her that when I innocently picked up her book in the library 3 years ago, her words convinced me that I have something to say as well.  That as soon as I finished reading her book, I started writing and I found a joy I didn’t know I was missing.  I wanted to tell her that her positive, cheerful and funny outlook on life, even in the face of prejudice and persecution, is incredibly uplifting and that I want to be a more patient person with my fellow human beings because of things she has written.

And I want to tell YOU to go buy her books!  Her words will uplift you and help cheer you.  Bonus: you’ll burn calories from all the laughing!

I love public transportation with all my heart.  I realize that’s a strange thing to love (and even stranger to love it with all my heart) but it’s true.  When public transportation works and when it can get you where you need to go without a lot of hassle, it is the greatest thing in the world.  It’s great for the environment and often more convenient than driving and parking.  Plus, the people watching you can do when riding a bus or a train is priceless.

I’m not a world traveler by any means, but the few major cities I have visited (London, Paris and New York) have had the BEST public transportation.  When planning trips to those cities, getting around was the absolute least of my worries because their subway systems are amazing.  They will take you wherever you want to go and they are so easy to navigate.

If I could create my ideal neighborhood, it would be a cute little place where every daily thing I need would be within walking distance and everything else would be within public transportation distance.  Since I’m not going to relocate to Paris any time soon (where that ideal neighborhood sits and waits for me), I make do with living in the center of the Salt Lake valley, close enough to walk to the library, music store, bank, post office, a few shops and the TRAX station.

I have used TRAX several times when going downtown, but that’s really all I’ve used it for because, well, it didn’t really GO anywhere else!

But that’s all about to change in a couple days.  The new Mid-Jordan and West Valley lines open August 7.  You can now ride from downtown to Gardner Village, the Maverik Center or even the community of Daybreak.

It’s still no New York City, but it’s a start and I’m excited.

I don’t know how often I’ll use all the new lines because I’m really awesome at finding free parking so paying for a train ticket when I know exactly where to park all day without getting towed or fined will hurt my cheap, cheap heart.

But at the same time, I am so excited to know I have the option to take public transportation to more places and I am sure I’ll use it more often than I do now.

Riding the train is quite fun, you know.

And I recently found out that kids under 6 are FREE (something I wish I knew years ago when I started paying for my daughter) so that fact makes it much more likely that when I’m planning fun day trips, I’ll look into traveling by train.

I still wish public transportation would take me anywhere I want to go like it does in New York City, but until that day happens, I’ll watch with excitement at all the new things UTA is making happen.  This is only the beginning and I’m excited to see where it goes!

My husband and I LOVE to experience other cultures.  Salt Lake City is a surprisingly diverse town and we usually spend our weekends and date nights at one cultural festival or another.  We’re very comfortable in those atmospheres.

This past weekend, we found ourselves completely out of our comfort zone, however.  South Sudan was celebrating its independence, something I am absolutely ecstatic about.  (More on that further down.)  I received a press release about a celebration in Salt Lake and I begged my editor to let me go and be the photographer.

I expected a festival of sorts, something with booths, music, food and maybe a program.  Something where people of all cultures would be meandering around.  What we encountered was quite different.

We arrived at the location and immediately noticed signs that said PRIVATE PARTY.  Technically I WAS invited because I am a member of the press, but that sign was intimidating.  We actually sat in the parking lot deliberating whether or not we should go in until finally I made myself jump out of the car.

I walked up to the door where at least half a dozen Sudanese men wearing suits were clustered.  Sudanese men are very tall (like half a foot taller than me and I’m 5′10″) and I must admit I was slightly intimidated.  But I had my camera around my neck and my notebook in my hand so I knew they would let me in.  I gave them a big smile and before I could get my whole introduction out of my mouth, they were all smiling, shaking my hand and telling me their names.  They ushered me into the building where another half dozen suited men were standing and we all repeated the process.

My husband and I immediately felt comforted, and while we still felt out of place, we knew it was ok that we were there.  We walked into a room with groups of Sudanese people sitting all around.  There was only one other white person besides our little family.  I want to be honest here.  I was intimidated again.  I’ve always been around other races, but I’ve never been that much of a minority before.  I felt very much like an outsider and very unsure of myself.  I’m a bit ashamed that I felt that way, but it’s the truth and it’s something I definitely want to change about myself.

We sat by ourselves in the room for a few moments when I decided I just needed to break the barrier.

I went and sat with a woman and her baby and all of a sudden I was having a big conversation with all these wonderful women.  After a few minutes, I looked for my husband and saw he was deep in conversation with a man a few feet away.

My husband and I were then approached by a man who began to tell us his story.  He is a “lost boy,” an orphan of the decades long conflict in the Sudan.  He walked across the Sudan with thousands of other lost boys, trying only to survive, not knowing who in his family was even alive.  He watched other boys die of hunger, thirst, animal attacks and gunmen.  He swam across rivers, praying he wouldn’t be eaten by the hungry crocodiles.

He arrived in a refugee camp in Ethiopia, only to be kicked out shortly thereafter when war broke out in that country.  So he walked again until he arrived in Kenya where he lived in a refugee camp until the United States accepted him as a refugee.  He was SEVEN years old when this all began.  He told us he still sees dead bodies when he closes his eyes.

But he was HAPPY.  He was kind.  He had light in his eyes.  And so did everybody else there.

Every person who walked in that room (until it started to get too crowded) came up to us and shook our hands.  EVERY person.  Have you ever been so greeted and made to feel welcome?  I haven’t.

They are all refugees.  They all have the same story as this particular man.  And they are a happy group of people.  They danced and chanted and sang their hearts out while they celebrated their country’s newfound independence.

My daughter is a rather shy girl and she clung to our side for a while, watching the children play.  I could tell she wanted to play too, but was afraid.  After several warm, kind people came up and introduced themselves, however, she somehow got the courage to go over to those kids and introduce herself.  I have never seen her do that.  She ran all over that place with those children, holding hands, dancing and playing with their hair.  And she cried when we left.

My husband and I were amazed at her outgoing behavior and decided she must have felt the same warmth and friendliness that we felt.  We stayed for three hours until the room got too full that my 8 month pregnant self couldn’t breathe.  I was so sad to go because I felt so at home.  I have never in my life been among a group of people that warm and inviting.  And I have never in my life been among a group of people who have suffered so much.

I am so eager for South Sudan to be free of the murderers of North Sudan.  I hope and pray that the independence of South Sudan will be a successful thing.  The nation is the newest in the world.  It is so young and has been so abused. These people deserve their independence and they deserve to live in peace and happiness.

Please read the book, What is the What: The Autobiography of Valentino Achak Deng. It tells the story of the lost boys and their resettlement in America in a fascinating way.  I promise you will feel such compassion you will be compelled to act.

One day in church, I heard a beautiful voice singing the hymn behind me.  Curious to know who it belonged to, I turned and found myself face to face with Donny Osmond.

Unimpressed with celebrity, I turned back toward my hymn book and never glanced at him again, except when I had to push past the giant crowd surrounding him after the meeting.

Ok ok, maybe I’m a little impressed with celebrity.  And maybe I’m a little impressed with Donny Osmond.  He was before my time and I don’t know much about him or think he’s all that dreamy, but I know he was once quite the Thing with a capital T.  Even Ellen said she hoped she would marry him.

But I can’t stand his obvious need for attention and so I refused to give it to him that Sunday several years ago.  Not that he missed my attention.

I really am not the type who will talk to somebody famous.

1. I don’t want to bother people
2. I am afraid a famous person would be rude and talk down to me and
3. I don’t want to be a participant in feeding the egos of famous people I think have large enough egos already, like Donny Osmond.  (Really.  Have you SEEN his interviews lately?  Holy moley, that man likes to act as ridiculous as possible if the attention will go to him instead of his sister.)

But this weekend, things changed.  Walking through the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, my husband shouted over the noise to me, “HEY!  THAT WAS FRANKIE!”

Frankie, DJ of the popular Utah radio station, 97.1 ZHT, that is.  We both love his show, so we were excited to see him.

I turned, saw Frankie and agreed with my husband that it was, indeed, him.  But then, Frankie turned a corner.  I was ready to just keep going and talk about how cool it was that we saw our favorite DJ.  But then Ryan started walking towards Frankie.  I grabbed him to hold him back.

“We can’t just go up to him!  We don’t know him!  That’s just weird,” I shouted.

“Come on, let’s just go see if it really is him,” Ryan prodded.

So we did.  We became what I hate.  But I’m so glad we did!  Frankie was so incredibly nice.  Not only did he say hi, he introduced his girlfriend to us, asked us where we were staying, what our plans were for the weekend and told us some of his own Las Vegas stories.  He asked our names, put them in his phone and gave us a shout out on Monday morning’s show.

How nice is that?  Maybe I should have given Donny a chance…

Nah.

We are recovering from a lifetime of secondhand smoke inhalation after our weekend in Las Vegas.  We got suckered into attending a timeshare presentation in exchange for a free weekend.  (We didn’t buy, but in another post, I’ll tell you exactly how to get the best price on a timeshare.)  At first, we were thrilled to have a weekend all to ourselves, away from responsibility and kiddos, among all the lights and fun architecture.  But that was BEFORE we got there.

We stayed there one night last November and fell in love with the strip.  I loved the themed hotels.  I loved the lights.  I loved seeing everything I’ve been seeing in movies forever.  In short, I was seduced.

This time, with everything already familiar, I quickly noticed the cracks in the city of lights.

Everything on the strip is designed to make people stay on the strip and spend, spend, spend.  Duh, right?

Everything you may or may not want to do at any time is there for you and more accessible than a McDonalds.  And it’s all legal.  Let’s not even talk about how easy it is to gamble and lose all your money there.  Duh again.

You smoke?  Coolio.  Totally legal to do that anywhere, any time.  You can even blow smoke out your decaying mouth straight into the lungs of a pregnant woman who is only trying to walk to her room that looks nothing like it did on the internet.

You’re a drinker?  You’re in luck.  Drink all you want.  In fact, if you’re done drinking in one place, just carry your drink out to the next place you wish to go.  You can have a lifetime’s worth of your favorite alcoholic beverage poured directly into a plastic container as tall as my 3 year old which you can conveniently carry from location to location.  Too much work to carry that around?  No problem.  Get a neck band to help hold the container up.  Feel free to stagger throughout the strip, with absolutely no care or concern for the pregnant woman you’re too drunk to hold the elevator for.

Think you’re pretty hawt?  Take off all your clothes!  No, really.  There is no need for clothes on the strip of Las Vegas.  At least that’s what 95% of the girls walking around in bikinis and mini-skirts (they really can’t even be called skirts, more like pieces of cloth) think.  I know this makes me sound like I’m 90 years old, but truly, it was difficult to distinguish normal girls from prostitutes.

I’m not even going to go on.  Suffice it to say that if you want to indulge a vice in the city of sin, you’ll have absolutely no problem doing it because those casino owners want you to partake, partake, partake until you’ve spent all your money.

Things overheard while in Vegas:

• “I have no idea how we even got in the cab last night.  I was so wasted.  It was totally awesome.”

• “Thank goodness you stumbled into your own room last night instead of somebody else’s!”

Thing I did enjoy:

• The Bellagio water show
• The dessert at the Bellagio buffet (taken with horrible quality camera phone)

• The overpriced, but very delicious frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity 3 (only available in New York City and Las Vegas, as far as I know, and almost worth the trip)

If you’ve never been to Las Vegas, it is worth a trip, I must say.  The strip is a delight for the eyes.  But after you see all the pretty, get out before the ugly pokes through.

We’ve been tired around here.

Really, really tired.

You see, we spent over a week in the motherland (California) celebrating my little brother’s wedding.

Some of us had a hard time letting beloved Uncle Darren go.

Freshly married, he’s off to see the wizard now.  If the wizard is the Army, because that’s where he’s going.  To join the Army.  THE ARMY.  Somebody tell me he’ll be ok.

While in California, we also got plenty of face time with grandmas and grandpas…

reading stories,

finding the perfect walking sticks for hikes,

and visiting lovely little coastal towns in perfect California spring weather.

We truly hated to leave, especially since we heard it snowed in Utah at least 3 out of the 9 days we were gone.  (Did I mention it was during the month of April?  Because if I neglected to mention that, which I did, I will mention it now.  It was the month of APRIL.  And it snowed.)

I also dreaded my return to normal life, which consisted of a week full of deadlines for The Sugar House Journal and preparing 15 students (and myself) for a piano recital 6 days after our tiring 12 hour drive through the desert.  Somebody is not a good planner and that somebody is me.

Now, with my articles and recital behind me, I have been lazing around, relishing the ease of ordinary life, which consists only of mothering, running a household, preparing for a baby and teaching piano.

Deep breath.  That felt good.

I’m back to blogging.  Hope to see you around soon!

The weather has been so ridiculously nice the past couple of days.  I think the temperature reached 50 degrees yesterday.  I didn’t even wear a coat.  And today I went for a mile walk OUTSIDE!  With no gloves!

But all good things must come to an end.  Yes, my Salt Lake City friends, it is going to snow tonight and tomorrow.  And that means we’ll all be looking for something to do INDOORS.  And if you’re like me, you’ll be looking for something to do indoors that is CHEAP OR FREE!

Lydia and I love to go to the library.  Any library will do, but to make your outing really fun, head downtown to the main library.  There are floors and floors to explore, shops to browse, hidden staircases, rooftop access and more.  You can read my post about it at Visit Salt Lake’s blog here.

We spent way too much time in the car last week.  I don’t even want to add up the hours, but let me tell you this: it was excruciating.  We traveled to my parents’ house in the Central Valley of California, to Ryan’s mom’s house in the Bay Area, to Las Vegas and back to Salt Lake City.  In between all that, we took day trips to San Francisco and Santa Cruz.  I wouldn’t take the vacation back, but I would have definitely preferred to be in an airplane instead of a cramped car, especially since every one of our journeys was hours longer than it was supposed to be, thanks to weather, weather and more weather.  (And one wrong turn in the middle of the night.)

But this is what we were doing when we weren’t driving!

Showing the German how Thanksgiving is done

Enjoying near perfect San Francisco weather

Stuffing our faces at Ghirardelli

Showing the German how to properly eat clam chowder

Appreciating iconic structures

Riding roller coasters at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk with family we don’t get to see enough

Dancing on the beach in full winter gear

We also loved our trip to Las Vegas (even though it took TEN hours when it was only supposed to take eight), but our camera battery died before we could get pictures on the strip at 1:00 am with our German teenage daughter and toddler (feel free to nominate us for parents of the year).

Our drive back to Salt Lake City was absolutely harrowing, since we were in a huge blizzard.  My little brother was also driving back and he ended up upside down in a ditch full of water after his truck slipped on some ice.  Terrifying, but thankfully he is ok.  We have all vowed to never drive long distances in the winter again.

Hope you had a great Thanksgiving!