Don't stop, don't give up!

Please. Just watch this. :D
I'm ready to throw in the towel, sell the car I've owned (for all of what, a month?) and grovel until I can get a job in Cedar. Or maybe start selling plasma.
This video should probably be my new mantra. ;)

And then I want you to look at this:

(in case you're wondering, these are cumulonimbus clouds. ;) )

And tell me God doesn't exist. (Silly Ranger man... sure there are hurricanes and bad things. Do you think that gives you license to pretend there isn't a being in charge of it all? If you're right- and you're not- you lose because bad things are more tragic, and good things have little meaning. If I'm right- and I am- then you win. Heavenly Father helps you through trials, and suddenly there are tender mercies everywhere that speak volumes of the love God has for you. ... Just saying.)

Also. I have work stories. (*Breath of relief* this blog has felt odd without an overwhelming abundance of work stories the past few posts.)

A petite woman came through my line, trying so hard to explain in english that she wanted to make her purchase in two separate transactions. She'd get more flustered with each misused word. Finally after some serious charades, we got onto the same page and she pulled out her wallet.

"Your wallet is so cute!" I pointed, and she smiled. Barrier breached. "I love those colors!" Her eyes dropped to her purple wallet, then blushing, "Oh! You are so cute!" A grin spread across her weathered skin. Through the second round of items I tried to speak slowly, and smiled when I had to re-explain what she didn't understand. After a moment of quiet, she spoke up stumbling over the words, "I come a long way from my home. From Thailand..." 

I'm not sure if there was more to the story, or how come she decided to lay that out, but we conversed about why she was here- her friend's niece's wedding- and all the places she had seen. After a few moments, she shuffled on her way. :)

She came back later, and had SheRon (my co-worker) take a picture of her standing with me. I couldn't resist giving her a little hug, she was such a sweet lady, and the book I'm reading lately has made me have a soft(er) spot in my heart for women. (That, and I think Heavenly Father is super aware of my throw in the towel emotions because lately I swear it's been easier to see each person that comes through the VC as a person, a child of God, and I feel this overwhelming love for everyone. It's a little bit amazing.)

Later in the afternoon a woman and her husband came up to my register, the tail end of their conversation becoming audible...
"Well, you almost walked out with it!" The man pointed to a scarf and some post cards in his wife's hands. She looked a little bit like a kicked puppy.

I smile, as he asks, "Is this where we pay?"

"Yes, unless you can run really fast." Smiling at the woman, "I'll give you a ten second head start." That made her burst into the cutest old-lady giggles I've ever heard. Which made me giggle. (I'm positive the rangers think I'm off my rocker at this point in the season. They're mostly correct.)

On their way out, the cute giggling lady (who is now clinging to her husbands arm while he escorts her to the door) turned at told me, "You are so nice! You're the best thing in this store!" 

Ok, so that sounds completely braggatious. But I can't help but love those moments... I doubt people know how much they make my day with remarks like that. 

(Like when the older couple asking a million driving direction questions that I have no idea how to answer came in. Finally I had to tell them I had no clue, they'd have better luck waiting to talk to the ranger, "I'm just the register girl." Smiling, of course. But feeling borderline grumpy and embarrassed. I'm going to study road atlases later. The woman just smiled that typical grandmotherly smile, "No, you're a beautiful register girl!")

And now I'm going to vacate my grandma's room and go read til bedtime! (And maybe after bedtime with a flashlight! Heck, I don't work til 9:45, I'd better party it up! ;) )

Yes!!

Technology is fantastic. (Can I get an amen?)
Unfortunately, I had to work through conference this year. Fortunately, my bummed-ness didn't last long, because lds.org has it up and ready for me to make a catch up on already! Which seems incredible to me. Either way, I'm grateful. :)

Now, in reference to the title of this post, I was so happy to hear Elder Neil L. Andersen's talk.
I've always been excited to be a mom, which maybe sounds silly, and a wee bit personal to be blogging about, but it's true! I think kids are the cutest, most obnoxious, and messiest miracles to ever come to earth! (Albeit, child care wasn't always rainbows and butterflies. Especially when toilets overflowed and small stomachs managed to project massive amounts of already eaten cookies across kitchen floors.)
Motherhood is one of the most rewarding sounding challenges though, and lately I haven't been overly shy in saying so. Friends have almost ridiculed me, though, for wanting to be a mom, so this talk was so reassuring and awesome to hear! (I admit... there was a 'neiner neiner' moment in my mind... I should probably repent for that one.)
Anyway, just thought I'd share that really quick.

Also, I met this man!

I shook his hand, and got an autograph. (Ten points if you know who he is without scrolling down!)

This is David Roberts, author of In Search of the Old Ones, Sandstone Spine, and (the one I actually found interesting,) Devil's Gate: Brigham Young and The Great Mormon Handcart Tragedy.

(The NHA bookstore carries In Search of the Old Ones. Mr. Roberts came to Bryce to hike, and stopped in the visitor's center, only to discover his book, and in an act of great kindness, and humble service, signed every last copy we had on hand. At his insistence. I suppose I'd do the same thing if I was an author and really wanted to feel famous, and had the right to do so. :p)

He thanked us for carrying his book, and told us about the others he's written. Which is when I decided I've got to add Devil's Gate: Brigham Young and The Great Mormon Handcart Tragedy to my reading list. It'll be interesting to see his take on things. The fact he calls it a tragedy eludes to the fact he's missing out on the story entirely. I'm sure he's got something awesome in it though, despite the Johnny Raincloud approach. ;)

I'm just thankful we know that it wasn't a tragedy at all, but an incredible story and example of so many people's faith. :)

Also, I'm finally on day five (let's call it six, since today is over already) of the eight day work stretch. Days off, here I come!

Also:

I'm really glad Grandpa B came home. Home alone is disconcerting when it's not actually your home.
And I hate Bones. It made me bawl, and Hulu doesn't have the next episode.

So I read previous blog posts and such.

I also hate nostalgia. On the bright side....
Life is progression? And learning? And I'll love this someday? (I'm trying real hard people.)






Ok. I'm gonna attempt going to bed now.

I'm Lazy. Here's this...

I love Barnes and Nobel. End of story. :D

Sooo much mad potential!

I would like to own this outfit. In case you wondered.
Also this is from the St. G trip with 'seester' Marty when we discovered the baptistery of the Temple closes on Mondays.

So we found a prince instead.

Except it was actually a frog. Oh well.

There's the CUTEST park in St. George by the city library that I'm in love with. It's got a 'stream' and 'waterfalls' that are super cutesy and there are always bathing suit- clad children playing there. So so cute!

This is one of many reasons I'm excited for November: Legit FHE, complete with treats!

Grandma and Grandpa Heap visited me at Bryce Monday(?) and then we went to Pines. This is probably from a trip to Pines with Kaylea though. But you get the idea...

I love going to Walmart with these two. :D

Sister Date, first stop: The Wizz.

I told you all I look phenomenal with a mustache.

So does B. Even if it's a tad askew.

Stop two: Pet Palace! 

Where they house all sorts of fragrant creatures including really large, really disgusting fish that look like they'd eat my toes if I went wading where they lived.

Stop three: Maggie Moo's! (With the creepy cow footage.)

It was a very successful bonding experience. ;) Obviously.

And now I'm sitting here in Tropic, alone. Ish. I think Grandpa just came home. But I was texting PVT (whom I just named and then caught myself and fixed back to the boring PVT-ness) (And I'm not sure why because 93% of you already know who he is haha.) and for about five seconds I thought he was asking me to hang out. But alas. He never texted back after my last reply. 

I'm pathetic.

...ly twitterpated.

Time to go read!

He was the Damsel... He needed a Hero.

I asked PTV on a date.
The Mayans and his desire to finish their presentation and other such scholarly checklist items instituted a rain check.
Which is nice, because those tend to come back and happen eventually anyway, but I only like rain without the checks in these matters usually.

I texted him to ask a book question last night, which is when I discovered that he had a softball game.
"Wanna come watch? It's at Bicentennial."
Ooh... I sort of already de-cuteified for the day.
"I'm in sweats and holey t-shirt madness... but I'll have to change and come over!"
"Or just come like that. :)"

I maybe changed into my new jeans and a non holey shirt and then changed back into sweats and then back into jeans...

"We're only going to be playing for another half an hour at most..."

Ok. Pants I'm wearing, we're hitting the road. (Who needs jeans anyway?)
So I drove to the baseball fields by the Canyon Park.

"So... Veteran park isn't Bicentennial. No matter how much it wishes it was."
I think he texted something equally clever at that point, and I gunned it toward the next baseball fields I knew of. On Lay Hill. By the prison. Erm. Middle School.

... Those aren't even lit up. Obviously not Bicentennial either. (Call mom. She informs me they're by where Aunt SheraLyn and Uncle Lloyd live. Which doesn't help me much, because I can't think of any fields in that vicinity.)
This is the part where I burst into giggles at my plight. I've got limited time, and so far I've guessed every park it couldn't be. Well. That's progress, yeah?
"I give up! Where is Bicentennial?"
"Haha, it's South about a mile from the Hospital."
Speed, except not really because Bro. K paranoid me after his 'one minute' lesson on police car cameras and the like, and pull into the parking lot and walk shyly over to the South field benches. Because PTV said they were on the south field.
Every last one of the players is chubby, and all the spectators are wives with small children.
... I'm thinking I have the wrong field.

"By Southern did you mean Northern?" At this point I had spotted him, and he was standing by the dugouts looking kind of attractive and such. :p He turned and went to get his phone off the bench, yup. That's him.
Texting me while they're in the game still.

After the game, he came and gave me a hug, and informed me he can't find his keys anywhere and the spare is possibly locked in his car.
"So you're telling me you're a damsel in distress? And you need a hero?"
-Pause-
He sings, "I can be your hero baby..."
"No, no, no. More like: I NEED A HERO!" (I might have done an embarrassing little dance while singing that first line. Cue blushing.)

Long story short, while we were walking over to his car he told me I'm really attractive. I'm still in sweats. And old shoes. Ha!
Also, just call me a boy scout, because I had a flashlight of preparedness.

"Do you think the Mayans could spare you long enough for a smoothie, and finding a wire hanger?"
Who can resist that?
So off we went in my cute car to get avocados for smoothies and he started calling teammates.

We made shakes and talked about items on our bucket list that were serious. Like serious dream stuff.
"I don't want to hear you want to see the bulls of Spain unless it's like, 'I want to see the bulls of Spain! I want to pet them!'"
"I don't think I have any serious dreams on my bucket list. It's 97% nonsense..."
So he tells me some of his while I attempt to think of serious aspiration type dreams.

Talk talk talk, drink some smoothie, laugh, talk some more... woohoo! Found a way around the rain check almost. :p Hooray for lost keys.

P.S. I just revisited my obsession for this song. This blog was brought to you by:
Classical Music!


P.P.S I think maybe PTV is going to turn into Potential Twitterpation Victim instead of a Pretend one.... Curse Twitterpation!

Remember the thought barf?

I've got a lot more of that swirling around in my head today.

First, I'm kinda way excited to tell you about hanging out with my Pretend Twitterpation Victim! (I'm getting tired of calling him that but I feel I can't just reveal the identity because then you'd all know. And that'd be embarrassing because I've been pretending to be twitterpated with the assumption I would never get a date with said victim... oh well. Moving on.)
Friday night, when I was (ironically) discussing a 'hypothetical situation' with one of my guy friends which involved Francine and Fritz and what all the confusing stuff was supposed to make Francine think, when I got a text from none other than Mr. PTV.  Remember the cool anonymous note date? With the ninja deliveries and singing in the car? Well he texted to fill me in that he found out one of the recipients of my random note had a birthday that very day! PTV: "Man, Heavenly Father's the MAN!" and then we discussed how cool being inspired is, and how it's kind of cool how you don't even realize that you're acting as Heavenly Father's hands sometimes. :) The gospel is great, and the Holy Ghost is sort of an amazing gift!
Amidst all this texting from Mr. PTV I was still feeling flustered and resentful of the whole dating game and totally not knowing where in the world I stand, or why he asks me out again, or how to not get my hopes up... (I'm a wee bit pathetic. I know. Remind me.) So I threw out the "It's waaaayyyy past my bedtime, so I'll talk to you tomorrow?" line. Which is a classic, because then I don't seem like a little puppy dog drooling over him, AND it has the question mark, so he gets to decide if we talk tomorrow which is more information to go into my Fritz and Francine hypothetical stories.
He said, yeah I totally should talk to him tomorrow and if I was going to drive through Panguitch (once again, blowing cover, one small detail at a time.) then I should definitely stop and see him at work because he would love seeing my smiling, or frowning, face. :p
So I maybe fabricated a more than half empty tank of gas, and a dire need to go to Panguitch to fill it up. ;) I also may have mentioned that, and that I was staying in Hatch last night, and how late was he working?
Long story short, I said maybe I'd have to stop by and say hi when I went to buy gas.
"That sounds like a great plan! Don't change it!" So... I didn't. :p
We visited about nonsensical things while he finished closing at work, and then went over to his house to get a sweater for me to borrow, had a paper air plane contest, in which I failed miserably. Despite my style and form.
"Is it ok if I show you my favorite place in the world?" (Is that even a question?)
"Of course!"
Asks to borrow sister's car. Secretly fills it up with gas, and drives toward Red Canyon.
Forgot blankets, so we froze to death and stargazed at the top of Red Canyon. Bryce night skies are insanely beautiful! In case you wondered. Also in case you wondered it's really difficult to hold still when you reeeeaaaally have to go to the bathroom.
We talked about everything from his mission, to The Alchemsit (which I'll have to blog about later), to things we've learned in life, and views, strengths and weaknesses, missions on earth, and thoughts on the gospel.
Um. How cool is that? We mostly just both rambled about lots of things... but it was awesomely fun. And I think there should be a sequel.
He gave me a cute hug, and told me to text him when I got to my Grandma's cabin safely.
Can I keep him? :p
(Also, he had that look again, which is going to drive me insane. And he said I'm very endearing actually. :p)

Next thought barf...
Recent work stories/quotes. (Because blog posts from me wouldn't be complete without stories that don't mean anything to you but are grandly funny to me. ;p)
Large Italian man, trying desperately to find a discount to help his gargantuan purchase not break him completely: "You are the best! These are my in laws, or else I would say something else to you. You see? Thank you. Never change! You are very kind!" (He got ten percent off as an educator's discount. :p It still wiped out $200.00 from his fancy little wallet.)

A man came through my line at least four times and I had made the comment we'd be old friends by the time the day was over.
Toward the end of my shift, I spotted him grinning and walking toward my register.
"Old friends?" I smiled at him,
"Old friends."
I scanned his items, handed him the bags and he turned to leave, throwing back over his shoulder, "We're leaving now..."
"Well, it was good to be friends!"
He paused, turning back around, "Good to be friends."

"Ooh... and how much for the eyelashes?"
"I think it's Revlon..." I said, after a moment to understand what she meant.
"No, it's genetics!"
blah, blah, blah, handing her a free poster and her bags...
"All that with a smile and those eyelashes! Thank you!"
Some people just make me giggle.

(This one was kind of my favorite. It was a unique experience.)
Before I could even say, "Hi, how are you?" The woman arm in arm with her husband piped up with:
"Thank you for your attentiveness to all your customers! You must see thousands every day!"

"Oh! And what is special about you?"
"... Well, I have four little sisters, I think that's pretty special." She laughs,
"Yeah, that is! And where are you from?"
(Insert answer to her question and small talk about growing up in small towns here.)
The middle aged lady gathered her things up, her husband still silently smiling beside her. "Well thank you. I'm so glad our paths crossed."
And with that, they were on their way!

(Marissa, this one's for you.)
I glanced up a few minutes after the woman and her husband left, and noticed a little girl leaning forward but managing to not fall on her face. Oh! That's a... leash? Holding her up? What in the world??
I promise, the first thing that came to my mind was: "My mother thinkth they're nethethary!"
And I giggled for ten minutes.


Next thought barf. Excerpts from The Alchemist, which I am still digesting, so I feel inadequate to discuss it intellectually. But I do recommend it. It's definitely a 'self aware' type of a book, and makes you think a little. I also find it slightly ridiculous. (I swear that's how most things are. I can't decide if I really love them, or if I think they're obnoxious.)

"...For her, every day was the same, and when each day is the same as the next, it's because people fail to recognize the good things that happen in their lives every day that the sun rises."

"I'm like everyone else- I see the world in terms of what I would like to see happen, not what actually does."

"He realized: If I can learn to understand this language without words, I can learn to understand the world."

"Once again he saw that, in that strange land, he was applying the same lessons he had learned with his sheep.  "All things are one," the old man had said."

"I'd like to build a display case for the crystal," the boy said to the merchant. "We could place it outside, and attract those people who pass at the bottom of the hill."
"I've never had one before," the merchant answered. "People will pass by and bump into it, and pieces will be broken."
"Well, when I took my sheep through the fields some of them might have died if we had come upon a snake. But that's the way life is with sheep and with shepherds."

"The shop is exactly the size I always wanted it to be. I don't want to change anything, because I don't know how to deal with change. I'm used to the way I am."
  The boy didn't know what to say. The old man continued, "You have been a real blessing to me. Today, I understand something I didn't see before: every blessing ignored becomes a curse. I don't want anything else in life. But you are forcing me to look at wealth and at horizons I have never known. Now that I have seen them, and now that I see how immense my possibilities are, I'm going to feel worse than I did before you arrived. Because I know the things I should be able to accomplish, and I don't want to do so."

"We are afraid of losing what we have, whether it's our life or our possessions and property. But this fear evaporates when we understand that our life stories and the history of the world were written by the same hand."

"The camel driver, though, seemed not to be very concerned with the threat of war.
  "I'm alive," he said to the boy, as they ate a bunch of dates one night, with no fires and no moon. "When I'm eating, that's all I think about. If I'm on the march, I just concentrate on marching. If I have to fight, it will be just as good a day to die as any other.  Because I don't live in either my past or my future. I'm interested only in the present. If you can concentrate always on the present, you'll be a happy man. You'll see that there is life in the desert, that there are stars in the heavens, and that tribesmen fight because they are part of the human race. Life will be a party for you, a grand festival, because life is the moment we're living right now." "

"Maybe God created the desert so that man could appreciate the date trees,"

"That's what alchemists do. They show that, when we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better, too."

And with that.
I'm going to try really hard to make it feel like Sunday despite being at work. Any suggestions?

Kind of cool :)

After a lesson in sewing, where I learned my side of the double sided apron doesn't totally look like a drunk driver took over the machine, Grandma Barton showed me this e-mail. I found it was kind of touching, so I thought I'd share it. :)

Helen Keller, President Grant & the Gospel

This is an excerpt from A Place of Knowing by Emma Lou Thayne (Emma Lou Thayne wrote Hymn # 129, Where Can I Turn for Peace ...)
Many years into my adulthood, when asked by a Jewish poet friend why I stay in my Mormonism, I explained it with a story, the details recounted by my mother. It is my mother’s story transposed into an allegory about my believing.
When I was a little girl, my father took me to hear Helen Keller in the Tabernacle. I must have been about eight or nine and I’d read about Helen Keller in school, and my mother had told me her story. I remember sitting in the balcony at the back of that huge domed building that was supposed to have the best acoustics in the world. Helen—everybody called her that—walked in from behind a curtain under the choir seats with her teacher, Annie Sullivan. Helen spoke at the pulpit—without a microphone—but we could hear perfectly, her guttural, slow, heavily pronounced speech. She spoke about her life and her beliefs. Her eyes were closed and when it came time for questions from the audience, she put her fingers on her teacher’s lips and then repeated for us what the question had been. She answered questions about being deaf and blind and learning to read and to type and, of course, to talk. Hearing that voice making words was like hearing words for the first time, as if language had only come into being—into my being at least—that moment.
Someone asked her, “Do you feel colors?”
I’ll never forget her answer, the exact sound of it—“Some-times . . . I feel . . . blue.” Her voice went up slightly at the end, which meant she was smiling. The audience did’t know whether to laugh or cry.
After quite a lot of questions, she said, “I would . . .. like to ask . . . a favor of you.” Of course, the audience was all alert. “Is your Mormon prophet here?” she asked.
There was a flurry of getting up from the front row, and President Grant walked up the stairs to the stand. She reached out her hand and he took it. All I could think was, “Oh, I wish I were taking pictures of that.”
“I . . . would like . . . ,” she said, “to hear your organ . . . play .. . your fa-mous song—about your pioneers. I . . . would like . . . to remember hearing it here.”
All the time she was speaking she was holding his hand he had given her to shake. I liked them together, very much.
I remember thinking, “I am only a little girl (probably others know) but how in the world will she hear the organ?” But she turned toward President Grant and he motioned to Alexander Schreiner, the Tabernacle organist who was sitting near the loft. At the same time, President Grant led her up a few steps to the back of the enormous organ—with its five manuals and eight thousand pipes. We were all spellbound. He placed her hand on the grained oak of the console, and she stood all alone facing us in her long, black velvet dress with her right arm extended, leaning slightly forward and touching the organ, with her head bowed.
Brother Schreiner played “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” each verse a different arrangement, the organ pealing and throbbing—the bass pedals like foghorns—as only he could make happen.
Helen Keller stood there—hearing through her hand and sobbing. Probably a lot more than just me—probably lots of us in the audience were mouthing the words to ourselves—
“Gird up your loins; fresh courage take. / Our God will never us forsake; / And soon we’ll have this tale to tell— / All is well! / All is well!”
I could see my great-grandparents, converts from England, Wales, France, and Denmark, in that circle of their covered wagons, singing over their fires in the cold nights crossing the plains. Three of them had babies die; my great-grandmother was buried in Wyoming.
“And should we die before our journey’s through, / Happy day! / All is well! / We then are free from toil and sorrow, too; / With the just we shall dwell! / But
if our lives are spared again / To see the Saints their rest obtain, / Oh, how we’ll make this chorus swell— / All is well! / All is well!”
So then—that tabernacle, that singing, my ancestors welling in me, my father beside me, that magnificent woman, all combined with the organ and the man who played it and the man who had led her to it—whatever passed between the organ and her passed on to me.
I believed. I believed it all—the seeing without seeing, the hearing without hearing, the going by feel toward something holy, something that could make her cry, something that could move me, alter me, something as unexplainable as a vision or a mystic connection, something entering the pulse of a little girl, something that no matter what would never go away.
What it had to do with Joseph Smith or his vision or his gospel I never would really understand—all I know to this day is that I believe.