Phil Collins (the sequel), Shakespeare, Andre Agassi and The Army

Against All Odds

Driven to succeed or just stupid,
That is the question?
Whether tis nobler in the mind to fight, wounded, to the death
Or by opposing injury, end then

Yeah – I know the real thing works better, but here is MY question:

I have a friend who ran a marathon with a broken foot. I was, and am, impressed by her stamina and determination….but, wow – what if she had never walked again? Were those 26.2 miles worth it?

Another impressive friend got me thinking about this topic the other day as he spoke about amazing moments in tennis when, against all odds, injured greats, battled on and won. (The most important of those involving the best ever, Andre Agassi…., but there are many other amazing tales of triumph.)

What is an “acceptable business risk” and what is the decision process these athletes went through when they decided to gamble their millions-of-dollars-worth bodies and play on.

I said to my friend, “There’s a point where it becomes insanity. But, right before that point it is inspiring.”

Part of why Agassi was so successful, and inspiring, is that he was willing to risk it all (and he is talented). I don’t really have to conduct a similar risk assessment – losing a Nike or Wheaties contract or being damaged for life…, but I do wonder what is at stake when I don’t choose to fight a good fight, or incorporate the counsel Polonius gave Laertes…

This above all: to thine own self, be true.

There is much this statement could imply, but for me it is more than just what not to do (like not carousing with lascivious friends or like not giving up in the face of a challenge). It also infers what TO do (like “be all you can be” or live life well….follow your dreams….etc..).

So – I ask: Is my "acceptable risk" inspiring. Can I run a broken-foot marathon?

5 - The REAL Christmas Street

I grew up on a street where each December, the neighbors all came together to do something nice for the community and to testify of the birth, life and mission of Jesus Christ...the real reason for the season. The homes in the circle all display large signs on their lawns with New Testament scriptures and pictures portraying the related scenes.

Cars, buses, limos, carollers came from all over the valley to drive around that circle. We always felt pretty special to live on such a cool street where so many people came to read of the Savior's birth and life. Most Christmas Eves we had to wait in bumper to bumper traffic to get in our driveway.

It was all started by some stalwart old souls - my grandpa & Sy Curtis - before I was born, but the tradition they started is still blessing countless lives - even after they have both returned to that Savior of whom they testified.

This was just one of the Christmas traditions I cherished...I loved the eggnog toast before going in to open presents, Christmas breakfasts, visits from and to grandparents, family parties, and Christmas morning programs to read and open presents by ("shepherds abiding in their fields, keeping watch over their flocks" meant wool sweaters....disciples called to be "fishers of men" meant fishing gear..."angels singing to proclaim His birth meant CDs, stereo equipment, or iPods), etc,.... We still do most of these and I love it!

#5 on my list of Favorite Things is our family CHRISTMAS TRADITIONS.

6 - Montana Mile Marker #5

Several writers and movie makers have tried to capture the essence of an Ideal – a perfect place of love, joy and peace.…

-Sir Thomas More in Utopia;
-The Arthurian legend of a place called Camelot (the Richard Harris, Vanessa Redgrave film is a classic);
-Or James Hilton’s description of Shangri La in Lost Horizon (was also made into a great movie).

I knew a man who succeeded in creating a real Utopia/Camelot/Shangri La. We called him Hans. And, his cabin on Hebgen Lake WAS the Ideal.

Apart from the days my brothers got married or had children, the best and happiest memories of my life are of Hebgen. Check out that sweet life-preserver. I could swim quite well by this time, but it was important to Mom and Dad and Hans that we all stay safe, so we wore them faithfully - and didn't really mind, because who could be bothered by anything at Hebgen?!

Hans was one of those rare individuals who saw the opportunity to make and share something special and actually did it. He was constantly improving things and doing things for us while we were there - like building a fire each morning so that when we woke up it was warm in the cabin...or teaching us how to make ice cream in the garage...or taking us on wood safari's...hunting for huckleberries...spinning tales about slingshots and moose (which I believed into adulthood)...showing us silent movies from his amazing collection in a living room theater decked out with big screen, reel to reel, light dimmer and surround sound...or giving up his bedroom in the big cabin so we could feel like the cabin was our's.

I can still remember the smell of the woods and lake and the feeling of waking up in that bed under the 4 inch thick brown quilt; and, the site of my Dad chasing a baby bear outside the dining windows to get a photo; my brothers hunting for frogs; swinging on the swing; playing chinese checkers and the marble game; listening to "cabin music"; the wind in my hair as I skiied across a glass lake; cleaning my first fish; sliding down the plastic cushions at the Walton-style table; and saying goodbye for the last time.

In a few days, when I blow out the candle sitting atop the first chocolate birthday cake I’ve had in a very long time, my birthday wish will be for everyone to have a Hans and the opportunity to experience the Ideal that was Hebgen.

#6 on my list of Favorite Things is HANS' CABIN and HEBGEN LAKE, MONTANA.

13 - The Song of The Heart

When I was very little - 7 or something - my Dad told me he would buy me my own hymn book if I would learn to play the hymn, Come, Come Ye Saints. I told my piano teacher about it and she said I was not good enough to play it yet. My Dad bought a simplified hymn book to try and help, but it was too late.

The gauntlet had been thrown down when she uttered the "can't" word. Interesting (or not) side note - I don't mind when I realize I can't do something, but when someone else tells me that....sometimes (rarely) I agree. This wasn't one of those times.

I worked at that hymn until my whole family was probably sick to death of it. But, guess what?! I learned it so well that I still can play it by memory to this day. AND - I got my very own hymn book. Thanks, Dad for believing in me! Maybe Zora did too...just had a different method for inciting me. :)

Anywho - learning Come, Come Ye Saints started me down a path of loving to play hymns. I was the pianist or organist for everything growing up - family conferences and Christmas events, primary, young womens, sacrament meeting, firesides (where I was jinxed for a while and made a mistake in the intro every time for months - even in front of Jon Schmidt and President Hinckley), big regional basketball tournament kick-off meetings (thanks to Uncle Blaine), stake events (where I had to play with Richard Elliot and Elizabeth Ballantyne sitting right behind me - one of my worst performances EVER!), sitting around the piano with my family on a Sunday night, on vacation in Island Park as evidently the only visitor in a group of hundreds who could play the hymns (or was willing to), on my mission (where I had another jinx and simply could not play Called to Serve without messing up - one time my mission president's wife even looked over at me with incredulity wondering how anyone could mess up so much), for work seminars (had the great privelege to play the piano and the organ for apostles and prophets), and at grandparents funerals...when I finished playing How Great Thou Art at my Grandma's funeral, Grandpa got up out of the audience and walked over to the piano to hug me...one of my most cherished memories.

Who would have thought it? Well, my Mom and Dad did. Dad knew what he was doing with that challenge and Mom had envisioned her musical children long ago. Ok, ok - I forgive you for ripping me out of ballet. It was definitely worth it.

#13 on my list of Favorite Things is PLAYING HYMNS.

20 - 80’s Night at the Oscars

One summer, my brother and I spent many nights eating Cheetos and Ranch dip (very delicious) and watching an 80’s classic film: North Shore. Now, some might say we were losers with nothing to do, but I think it is more to do with the fact that we enjoy good food, good movies, and having a good laugh.

North Shore is a “B” movie, if that, but it is very fun to watch and quote (“Nobody listens to turtle…”). There are several other 80’s movies I would throw into the “B” category – all movies I loved (and still love) to watch over and over; they might not merit an Academy nod for Best Picture, but I would give them other awards like….

Some Kind of Wonderful – Most Awkward Kissing Scene to Watch While on a Not Great Blind Date Award (in addition - a bug flew onto my lip while we were eating and I ate it)

16 Candles – Sweetest Red Porsche/Just Like the Boy Next Door Award

Top Gun – Top Volley-Ball Game I Like to Watch (what girl doesn't?) Award

Pretty in Pink – Greatest Soundtrack to Listen to While Lying Out Award

Always – Best Last Movie Seen with College Sweetheart Award

Footloose – Classic Movie My Grandma Didn’t Want Me to Watch on the Airplane Ride to Hawaii but Had Already Seen with My Young Women’s Leader Award

Fletch – Most Quoted Chevy Chase Line Award (also my favorite comedy film ever)

Karate Kid – Most Reminiscent of Neighborhood Boys Award

Superman II – Craziest Movie I Wish I Hadn’t Watched with My Mom and My Friend’s Mom Award

Princess Bride – Most Quoted Movie by Missionaries in Australia Award

The Outsiders – Best Book My 6th Grade Teacher Read to Us Award

Now – this is all just a silly walk down memory lane, to be sure, but in fairness to the brilliance of the 80’s, there were also some absolute classics produced– certainly worthy of a real Best Picture Oscar, like:

Somewhere in Time, Out of Africa, Dead Poets Society, On Golden Pond, Driving Miss Daisy, The Mission, Gandhi, Chariots of Fire and Rain Man.

#20 on my list of Favorite Things is 80’s MOVIES.

Bonus Prize: Which of these were either nominated or DID get the Best Picture?

24 - Once there was a snowman...tall, Tall, TALL

A couple years ago, I had the calling of all callings at church. Primary teacher. Listen – this is just the best calling a person could have.

-You get to study the fundamental gospel principles and think of creative ways to teach them.
-You get to laugh and color and dance and go on treasure hunts and sing Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes, and Once There was a Snowman instead of sitting solemnly in classes for two hours.
-You get to be taught by some of God’s precious children about faith and goodness and love.

Example: One day, the lesson was on prayer. I had my class each take turns saying something they would thank Heavenly Father for and then something they would ask Him for. They all said many sweet things. When it came to my Jonah, he said he would ask for the little boy who had been in the wheelchair during singing time to be ok.

Doesn’t get any better than that.

#24 on my list of Favorite Things is BEING A PRIMARY TEACHER.

26 - Today's favorites are brought to you by the letter

MONET
Other than my brothers, my favorite artist is Monet. I love his ability to represent light and nature with paint, canvas and a brush. Remarkably gifted! Here are some favorites: MEXICAN FOOD
I could eat Mexican food every meal every day for a long time and be very happy. My favorite is a chicken chimichanga with guacamole from Cancun Café. I could drink salsa...I think guacamole should be one of the food groups....and, don’t even get me started on cheese, glorious cheese. Simply three of the best inventions ever. MONTANA
I have been going to Montana nearly every year of my life since the year I was born. It is my place of peace and rejuvenation. I love being up in big sky country. Hebgen Lake, Montana is the best place on earth as anyone who has swung in the swing or sunned on the floating dock or skiied or fished or boated or hunted frogs there can attest to. MOZART

Mozart’s music is one of the great blessings in my life. He is my favorite composer. I love “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik”…. It is simply sublime. One of my favorite musical memories was accompanying a clarinetist as he played Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto. Years later I had a front row view of a master clarinetist playing the concerto in Symphony Hall. Beautiful music!



#26 on my list of Favorite Things is: MONET, MEXICAN FOOD, MONTANA & MOZART.

41 - King of Kings

The best part of my high school experience was choir. We sang all over the place - in rest homes, malls, the capitol rotunda, Epcott Center, high school auditoriums, churches and cathedrals, and in what was then Symphony Hall (now Abravanel Hall). We had some amazing experiences. It is a joy to sing - and especially with the great singers and gifted choir director we were blessed to have. Our madrigals group was pretty impressive, if I do say so myself, and we won awards. Being in choir was a life-changing experience for me (and many others).

The most memorable experience we had as a choir was singing the Hallelujah Chorus with the symphony in Symphony Hall. I will never forget how I felt when the entire hall stood as we began that glorious tribute to our Savior. It brought and still brings tears to my eyes.

I love the gift music is and especially singing. There is something of heaven in it...perhaps reminiscent of the angels who heralded the Savior's birth.

A group of choir members in Philadelphia gave a gift of singing to their neighbors in a mall. Check this out:



Pretty great!

#41 on my list of Favorite Things is SINGING.

44 - The Sleepy Blue Ocean

When I was a little girl, we traveled to Lake Tahoe for a family reunion. We stayed in some condos with a fantastic swimming pool. One day, I spent a significant amount of time (I say 5-6 hours, my parents say 10-12 hours) in the pool and when everyone went down to the lake in the afternoon, I was not allowed to get in because I had been in the water too long...or some other silly reason - I'm not sure - all I know is I wasn't allowed to swim in Lake Tahoe. I'm still bitter.

I have always loved the water - swimming pools, rivers, lakes, and most especially, the ocean. I love the sound the waves make. I love boating and skiing. I love the view of the sun setting or rising on the water's edge. I love swimming in water and I love drinking an ice cold glass of water. I love sitting on the edge of water and listening. I even subscribed to Coastal Living for a few years - just to look at the pictures of homes near water. I love the water.

My happiest memories are associated with water - fishing with my Dad and brothers, laying in the sun on a floating dock, swimming for the high school swim team coach when I was 12, laying in a lounge chair on the deck of a cruise ship, walking in the ocean along the Oregon coast, riding the waves of the lake on a tube in a storm, watching orca jump while working out, swimming parties at my place with my nieces and nephews, snorkeling in Hanama Bay, boating in Sitka, driving along The Great Ocean Road in Australia, and most significantly, coming up out of the waters of baptism.

I am grateful for the water that sustains the life of my physical body and for the Living Water that sustains my spirit. Water is one of the greatest gifts in my life.

#44 on my list of Favorite Things is WATER.

45 - Got Milk?

Years ago, some co-workers were talking about milk and claimed that it didn't matter which brand you drank, "...they all taste the same..." What foolishness. I very matter-of-factly stated that I could pick the Winder Dairy Milk from any other milk because it is orders of magnitude better than the others.

One of them arranged a taste test to prove me wrong. He went to several stores and obtained five different brands - Winder, Kirkland, Viva, Albertons, and some other one - can't remember - all 2%.

He kept the milk very cold (which masks the after taste most milks leave) and he carefully labeled the five cups. It was easy to weed out the bottom three and narrow it to the top two cups. A few more sips and I pegged the Winder and the Kirkland respectively.

It took about 60 seconds total. And, not only did I pick the WINDER (get it, Dad? ...the WINNER...I might be a Bradshaw afterall), but three other participants did as well.

OBVIOUSLY, it matters which milk you drink. Incidentally, Kirkland has a nice flavor, and I enjoy drinking it. Winder is just a bit creamier. That's how you tell - great taste and creamy.

#45 on my list of Favorite Things is WINDER DAIRY MILK.

March Madness Report

So, this was by far my best bracket contest showing EVER. The sports “universe” has recognized my lack of loyalty to BYU and granted me a seat at the table with the great bracketologists of the world!! (This won't happen again, so just let me exaggerate and gloat for a minute.)

In one contest, I took 1st & 2nd place (submitted two brackets).

In another contest, I took 3rd.

Not sure the other contest should count really (25th place).

I did four different brackets for three different contests. Pretty great showing, right?!

These great wins prove ignorance is, indeed, bliss.

Now, where are my prizes, people?

Mistaken Identity or Grand Theft Auto

I am a person who absolutely requires plenty of rest and relaxation in order to function properly (at least that is the excuse I am going to use here). A few weeks ago, I worked some very long hours and late into the evenings three days in a row.

At the end of the third day, I slowly walked out to my car thinking about sleep. As I neared my car, I noticed that the lights didn’t blink when I clicked the key fob to unlock it. Hmm…interesting – wonder if I left a light on inside and the battery is now dead. I got in the driver’s seat plopping my purse, etc., down on the passenger seat. As I did so, I noticed a soft black coat sitting there.

Why did I leave my coat in the car, you ask? Well, maybe you weren’t asking that, but I was because I didn’t remember bringing a coat that day – nor did I remember buying this particular coat. Oh, wait – that’s because I didn’t buy this coat. Nor did I clean my car to look this nice. And where is my car seat that sits in the back?

Yikes!!! I am inside someone else’s car.

I leapt from the vehicle that could be my car’s twin (except that mine has a bike rack on the back and isn’t quite so clean), and walked a few feet to MY car – whose lights did blink in response to the key fob.

I laughed most of the way home – slightly hysterical probably.

What are the chances of a car the same make, model and color as mine being parked so near to mine at the precise time I went to go home? This is one of those great moments I would love to see replayed on a big screen someday.

By the way – if the car I “accidentally” got into had been a black Boxster, the end of this story MAY have been slightly different. (I designed this one at Porsche.com - very cool site!)

Me, Myself and Me

A few years ago, I attended a work seminar on communication. One of the exercises was to analyze your communication style at home – with the person you interact with every day.

A guy leaned over and, knowing I am single, asked, “Who are you going to use? Yourself?” In my characteristically gentle manner, I responded that of course I don’t talk to myself, moron. Any self talking I do is really just a thought process – not a vocalized communication - like, “You shouldn’t have said that – do better next time,” or, “Remember to pick up a birthday gift for Billy Bob on the way home.”

Well, that was then. A few months ago, I started talking (not just thinking) to myself. I had pulled into my work parking lot and found a really great parking place and I congratulated myself. Out loud.

After laughing for a few minutes, I realized I had just begun communicating with someone who never talks too slowly and who already knows I’m fairly silly. I’ve been talking to myself ever since. It’s almost like I have roommates.

Hahaha – just kidding. But I do talk to myself every once in a while. Do you?

Right Outside my Back Door (if I had a back door)

I’ve traveled almost as far away from home as a person can go and seen many stunning vistas, but last month, I saw some of the most beautiful landscape I’ve ever seen – just 90 minutes from my home.

A friend told me about Cascade Springs – a little place tucked away in the Uinta National Forest. The drive up – with the blue sky, changing leaves, snow-topped mountains and little stream was amazing, and the Springs were a small slice of heaven. Everywhere I looked was an amazing view – I was so happy with this new discovery. Not sure how I haven’t seen it before – living so close all these years.

I will miss my new friend until the winter snow and storms clear – and hopefully, I can go up there again.

A Comedy of Errors

The scene:
1:17a.m., Saturday morning, driving home from mom and dads, after watching movies with mom.

The errors:
1. Not immediately fixing the headlight I noticed was out yesterday (they go out way too frequently - not sure why)
2. Not having my driver’s license with me
3. Slurring my speech (I was very sleepy) while explaining to the police officer that, no – I don’t know my DL #

The only thing I did right:
Looking the police officer right in the face when he asked if I’d been drinking, and answering, “No. I never drink,” while his flashlight - shining right in my eyes - confirmed to him I was telling the truth. (Thank goodness, because my balance is terrible!!)

Item added to the Saturday “To Do” List:
Replacing that stupid headlight

Pretty funny, right? Well - I thought it was. If he'd made me get out and walk a straight line, I might have been the first totally sober person booked for DUI. (Actually, my parents might not have seen comedy in that.)

Gold Medal Performance

I’ve always wanted to be really great at something. When I’m at the ballet, I think about how I want to be a prima ballerina dancing in the Nutcracker. When I go to the symphony I imagine I have become the concert pianist my mother dreamed I would be. And, when I am watching the Olympics, I visualize me as the fastest female runner in the world.

Sadly, I haven’t yet realized my dreams in any of these areas. But, you will be happy to know that back in the 80’s I did actually achieve greatness. (Those who know me well will not be surprised to hear that this standout performance is in relation to my hair.)

Check out this photo I just found at my mom’s house.

Wow.

I am confident there are not many people on this earth who could get their bangs as big as I did. I mean look at those things. They are at least three inches off my head. They're spectacular. Seriously dorky facial expression though. And, the eyebrows. Ick. Oh, well – can’t win ‘em all.

So - what do you think – gold medal hair??

Blind Dating Hall of Fame: The Man in Cream

Picture a winter evening, and me descending the stairs of my condominium complex to meet a blind date waiting in the foyer. I had spoken with “Billy” a handful of times – getting acquainted and arranging the date. He was smart and funny, and I was actually excited to go. I rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs to see a 6’3” cream puff. Billy was dressed all in cream: cream linen pants (linen in the wintertime??), a cream turtleneck sweater (remember how straight men should never ever wear turtlenecks??), and tan leather shoes with a matching tan leather jacket. Wow. Cream? Linen?? Turtleneck??? Should a man dress like this?

Billy drove us towards the center of town indicating that he had tried to get reservations for this amazing Italian place, but he hadn’t called soon enough, so would I mind just waiting to see if we could get in? I was happy to sit and chat and listen to his stories for the first hour, but as the second hour came to a close, my body was rebelling – I was tired, famished, my neck was stiff from trying to turn enough in our cramped quarters to look at him while we talked (it was a VERY crowded waiting area), and my back side was screaming at me for sitting for two hours on a hard wooden piano bench which was the only place left to sit when we arrived. If there had been enough room to stand, I would have welcomed the change of position. But people just kept coming and coming.

After 2 ½+ hours of waiting, and exhausting every topic I could possibly think of to discuss with a stranger with whom I had nothing in common, they seated us. By this point, I would have happily eaten at Olive Garden – my least favorite restaurant – or just gone home to bed. While I spoke none of these thoughts and tried to be positive in my conversation, he realized the wait had been very long and assured me that it was worth it and that I would be impressed. I could not imagine any food being worth sitting on a wooden slab next to a giant cream puff for almost three hours, but I was wrong. It was AMAZING!

The restaurant is called Cucina Toscana. If you live in Salt Lake, you must go there. If you don’t, you should make a special trip just to eat at Cucina Toscana. It is a touch pricey, but the food is divine. I’ve never tasted any better.

Evidently I wasn’t a good enough sport about the wait (by the way, Billy was also bored and tired and stiff by the time we got seated), because the cream puff in tan leather never called me again, but at least I got to eat at Cucina Toscana. Go there – you’ll love it!

Great Moment in History #2: What goes around comes around . . .

One of my companions in the mission field demolished a big wooden chair underneath her as she plopped down in it with her third plateful of pancakes one morning. Unfortunately for her this happened just as a couple of people arrived on our porch and looked through the large living room window before knocking on the door. I could not stop laughing.

A few years later, I was on the second row of a very quiet and very popular institute class FULL of guys, a few girls, my friends, and a “larger” version of me. I was sitting peacefully listening to the lesson when all of a sudden a loud crash broke the silence as me and my girth fell to the ground, crushing the chair below us. This, as you can imagine, caused quite a stir in the class. The teacher kindly checked to see if I was alright and asked someone to get me another chair. I climbed up from the floor, red-faced, into a chair close by. Alas, a few minutes later, I fell to the ground again having crushed the second poor chair beneath me. Yep – two chairs in one night.

I refused the offer for another victim and heroically sat on the floor the rest of the class. I could not bear the thought of breaking a 3rd chair. Two was so beyond humiliating.

A few days later I was telling of my shame to one of my friends who was a counselor in the bishopric of the ward where the institute class was held. He got a funny look on his face and asked which room the class was in. I told him. He asked if there were any chairs off to the side. I said nope, all the chairs were set up because the class was full – basically every seat taken – especially after I crushed two of them. He told me that a few days before the institute class, they had folded up two chairs and put them to the side because they were broken and had collapsed.

How lucky that we (me and my girth) found those two little honeys to sit in with a class full of boys looking on.

Sure hope they tell their kids and their kids’ kids for generations to come the story of the girl who broke two chairs. I'll be a legend.