Thoughts on Energy Efficiency

Firstly, GOOD NEWS!  The break is not such a bad one, says the Dr., so I don't even need a hard cast on it!  They put me in a splint that I can take off to shower, wash my hands, and eventually exercise my wrist a bit.  This is so good.  It means I can also type, write, and (attempt to) fix my hair over the next six weeks, which we previously thought unlikely.
And now for the rest of this post.

I try to be energy efficient, really I do.  Really, I have tried ever since 5th grade when we did Debate and the Resolution was "Resolved: that the State of Utah establish a program to substantially increase Renewable Energy Use within its borders."  (Yes I remember.)  I was on the Affirmative Side of that debate, so I learned all about how Utah's non-renewable energy resources are DISAPPEARING and by the year 20__ we will have nothing left unless we switch to renewable energy sources like solar, wind, and water power.
I've been scribbling in my margins ever since.

Then I lived in Europe for a while, and then I went to Japan, where not recycling a plastic bottle is pretty much a crime.  You already know I can't stand to waste food, but I also recycle my Walmart plastic bags and use my Green grocery bags every single time I remember to.  (Frankly, it's not that often.)

Now that we are homeowners and have utility bills coming, I've been investing in thermal drapes/curtains for my windows - especially since the previous owner scared us a little with the winter figures he gave having to do with electricity.  I've spent so many hours looking for low prices in decent colors and correct sizes, I might even be an expert by now.  Some of the drapes I've ordered certainly work better than others for blocking light in Liam's bright room, keeping draft out, etc. etc.

As it happens, the ones that work the best are the ones I put up in our bedroom, which is a Problem.  Capital P (and that rhymes with "T" and that stands for "Tool!").

The drapes are so efficient, they block out the morning light, and Slice and I keep staying in bed later and later, because the room is so dark and the (new) bed is comfy, and if Liam is sleeping we can just sleep and sleep and sleep ..............

Slice says we have to take them down now.
But what about the drafts??

There are people in this world who want all the best for you in life.  Truly.

These people are happy for you when things go well.  They offer encouragement and assistance without being asked; they offer advice only when asked.  If you do ask, they'll tell you about their experiences, then say - "I'm sure that won't happen to you, though!" or "That's what I wish I had known!" or "I hope it goes even better for you!"  And the best part is, they mean it.

You know these people, right?  You befriend them and love them and hang onto those friendships, because they make your life better.  I'm a firm believer in the whole "learn from other people's mistakes" idea.  In fact, I believe that's what we are here for.


There are other people, unfortunately, who don't want you to have what they don't/can't/didn't.

These people caution you about doing anything they don't believe you can do.  They give you unwarranted advice, worst-case scenarios, horror stories.  "Oh BOY are you in for it," they say, or "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into!"  (Like that's helpful.  Thank you, I'll call later for the I-told-you-so speech.)
They might be jealous, they might want pity ... who really knows?

I bet you know some of these other people as well; they are everywhere.  I'm sure I have even been one myself, on more than one occasion.  Lately I've been thinking -- maybe it takes the latter to know the former.  Maybe you have to have opposition if you're ever going to get where you want to go.  Opposition makes us stronger, wiser and hopefully, more compassionate.

But by jove, I am grateful for those who have supported me.  For my parents, who taught me everything and now trust me to make my own decisions.  For my siblings, who treat me as a peer when I need it the most.  For my friends who want the best for me, even when I don't know what I want myself.
I hope I can do the same.

Announcement

I now interrupt the usual Slice/Jean chatter to make an important announcement.

My father has been nominated for an Eighth District Court Judgeship.

He made it through the interview process and is now subject to public comment.

My network is small, I know, but I want to get the word out as well as I can. Because if he got this judgeship it would be the best thing that happened to this family since ... well ... since my dad married my mom. Seriously.

I've had this blog post about my dad planned for like a year now, about how I can't say enough good about him and how he's not only the greatest father in the world but also probably the best person I know, period. But then I remembered how it bugs me when political candidates flout their church service and "family life" like it qualifies them for the job they want.
So. Let me say this:

My father is a man of integrity and compassion.
He is driven by a sense of justice that I have never seen in anyone else.
He doesn't get mixed up in small-town prejudices and petty politics.
He knows the law, and has wanted to be a judge (I think) for his entire life.
And he's the best candidate for this position.

(He also has no idea I am writing this because he wanted to keep the whole business under wraps.)

But I think we can find people who care enough to send a simple letter. So I'm asking what he won't.

Would you help? Tell anyone and everyone who might have an interest in either the man or the system? We only have a week to get all "public comments" written and mailed in.

If you have any questions you can email me, racheledd@gmail.com.
Either way, thank you for reading this! and I love you all.

small town living: I Am Speechless

I'm sorry to be politicking, but I've just been laughing so hard at this comment that I had to share.

A little background first:

Roosevelt's city pool is so old and rundown, it is literally a safety hazard. The managers of the pool have been saying so for years.
Said managers have been working tirelessly with the residents and political officials of the county to get a new pool built. They've taken polls (we want an indoor/outdoor facility! the people said) and gone to the City Council (we need the whole county in on it! the Council said) and gone to the County Commissioners (we won't do anything about this until the next election because we want to be re-elected! the Commissioners basically said). It's been such a run-around, you wouldn't believe it unless you lived here.

I KNOW times are hard right now, especially in our oilfield community. I KNOW no one wants to pay more taxes, even $30 a year which is like ONE meal "out on the town." But seriously? There's nothing else to do here, especially in the winter! We've got over 1100 signatures! Can we just agree and move on??

Apparently not.
I found this gem of a comment on the oh-so-scientific poll of the online UBStandard this morning. (It's comment #2.) And the "logic" has me completely baffled.

What the .... I just ..... how do you respond to that?

Why should I force my neighbor to pay for the roads that I drive on?! After all, I don't pay taxes. I'm still renting. What if everyone actually drove on the roads? We'd all have to ration our driving time! Or worse, build more roads!

The cost is your LIBERTY, people.

(At least the writer's English skills are acceptable, a small miracle in itself.)

Seriously though, how would you respond?

Issues

I’ll just say this now: I have issues with showers.

Not the hot-water kind, either. (As long as there’s hot water I’m happy.) (Except for the contractions.)

It’s those traditional, gift-giving showers that I have issues with.

Always have, really.

I have vivid memories of dressing up on Saturday morning (“you can’t wear jeans!”) and heading to Grandma’s house with my mom and all my sisters. The women in the family would ooh and aah over dishes and baby stuff while we played awkward games and gave awkward presents and, in my case at least, pretended that we wanted to be there. Sometimes the food was the only redeeming part.

In college I made sure that my roommates knew how vehemently opposed I was to bridal showers – they thought I was crazy – and furthermore, that if they ever threw one for me, they would never be forgiven. When the time came, they did it anyway.

And when the time came, I forgave them.

It’s not that I dislike the sentiment of showers. Gift-giving is wonderful and gracious and especially at those stages of life, the woman of honor (usually) really needs the gifts. I’ve certainly never been opposed to people giving me stuff either … which is maybe why I didn’t make a fuss about my own bridal showers. And to be fair, I have been to showers with fun games, easy relationships all around, and fabulous food.

Still, I haven't been able to pinpoint why they’ve always made me uncomfortable. Until today.

According to Wikipedia (I know), Sociologist Beth Montemurro wrote that “the bridal shower ‘socializes women into the hyper-feminized traditional wife role,’ with its emphasis on the future role of the bride-to-be as family cook, homemaker, and sexual partner.”

Yep.

It’s just another scrapbooking convention, Scentsy party, cooking class, chunky jewelry boutique … just another one of those things that I don’t get.

Can't we all just get together and have lunch? Visit like old friends and family, which we ARE?

You can even bring your husband.

Fast Sunday hymns

Our ward organist, I am sorry to say, is one of those ward organists who plays every hymn at exactly half-speed.

(Note: I AM NOT ASKING FOR HIS JOB. I couldn't do any better, even if I did take that organ class at BYU, Mother. The class nearly kicked my trash.)

We all know that a hymn taken too fast can be irreverent, right? But hello, nothing takes the spirit out of a meeting like "True to the Faith" as a funeral march. Or any hymn as a funeral march. Also, when the organ registration gets louder and more boisterous with each verse and sometimes the chorus.

The good thing to be gained from such looooong hymns every meeting, I suppose, is the ample time to make faces at siblings. There were times when Matt and I barely made it through ... oh the pain.

(We've had the same organist for quite a while.)

(And last week at my uncle's funeral Slice actually said, "It's nice to hear a hymn played at the right speed!")

Anyway.

The other great thing about this brother is that yesterday he pulled a Pat Robertson, postulating to the ward that the snowstorm in D.C. is really a warning to our government. I'm sure he's not the only one who thinks so, but still, I squirmed in my seat, Slice kept telling me to be quiet - I WAS being quiet - while he blasted everything from health care reform to the national debt.

I love this church.

*image kifed from my friend Bree, who I hope doesn't mind! and who is a MUCH better organist than I am, I'm sure

Weigh In

I agonized over this all day Friday and dreamed about it for the rest of the weekend...

Today's UB Standard article is the closest thing we'll get to a debate, and I was anxious to see where the other candidates stand on the issues.
It looks like there are 2 yeses for the school proposal, 2 nos, and the swimming pool needs to be paid for by NOT the city. Hmmm.

Election's in a week!

(Still cracking up over my photo, too. Compliments of Slice.)

If Only

image from here

So lately Slice has been telling me abut his parenting plans.
Every time a child acts out in our presence (mostly when they disobey, talk back or throw tantrums), he tells me “Our kids won’t do that. Our kids are going to be AFRAID of me. They will be glad when I leave the house.”

He is ridiculous, yes, I tell him at least once a day.

We’ve had many a discussion about our parenting philosophies, most of which end up with me laughing at Slice, because he thinks he will be an iron fist. Whatever.

But a couple weeks ago as I recorded papers for an English teacher, I found myself fantasizing about policies I would enforce:

"If your FULL NAME is not on your assignment, you will NOT be getting a GRADE. We are in HIGH SCHOOL, people. Not kindergarten."

"Cell phones will not be tolerated. If you think you can't live without it - TRY ME."

"Seven pages is nothing, you pansies. Try twenty-five."

"You all know what PERFORATION is, right? Most notebook paper is now perforated so you can turn in a nice, neat, lined paper. If you rip it out, I will be throwing it away."

(I really hate those messy edges.)

And,

"Do not even think about swearing in front of me."

Iron fist, you know?

Too bad that would never really happen ... I'm too much of a push-over.

(Don't I know it.)

I got 50 votes

-if you count the provisional ballots that Slice and I cast.

(They didn't count them.)

In this race, that means I go on to the general election!

September 15

So today is the day of primary elections.

I told you months ago that I would give "more information," but I've been hesitant to share much here, mainly because I get annoyed when people push politics on their blog.

But in case you are interested, I'll tell you how I got to this point.

Historians will tell you there are two types of records particularly valuable when it comes to studying a civilization. The record of "outsiders," whose experiences with a culture, though cursory, are vivid and descriptive; those of "insiders," who are immersed in their own culture, are framed by a collective understanding.

I have always felt like more of an "outsider" to Roosevelt. As much as I love this city - and the people who make it so great - there are some major problems in the government, management and direction here. Some people don't run things the way they should.

The longer I live here, the more I see it, and the more I want to do something about it.

At present, our community is facing several major long-term decisions, and my hope is that our citizens will get involved enough to make some major changes.

I hope they care enough.

I know some people are pretty passionate about this, but

I have no preference when it comes to Miracle Whip and Mayo. I can't even tell a difference between them. Truly.

I think every student in the nation should have heard that speech yesterday.

I love BYU. A lot. Even when the sports teams lose, and I have to listen to snarky comments from my in-laws. (Oh wait. I have to listen to those even when they WIN.)

I find it completely absurd that people will ask couples point-blank about their "family plans." Isn't that private? Like, is there anything more private than that? I know we're all curious, but when they ask those questions, do they want to hear the real answers?


Thoughts? Opinions?

Public Service Announcement

*As of today, July 15th, Rachel Jean Morgan has declared her candidacy for Roosevelt City Council in the upcoming local election. Primaries will be held September 15th for the two open seats on the Council. More information will be available anon.*

He knew I was too chicken to do it otherwise

Last Tuesday Slice surprised me with an "early anniversary" present. (There were a few of those.) He called a local salon and made an appointment for me to get my hair cut and highlighted, probably because I've been talking about it for so long he got sick of listening to me.
(I may also have been compulsively measuring my hair for donation and looking at short, blond haircuts for weeks on end....)

BUT - my sisters and I had been planning to donate our hair together, so I was a little worried about their reaction. In the end, we just called and got them appointments too, so the three of us went together and donated our hair- 10 inches each. Of course, we got some Before and After pictures:

Do you see how pitifully thin my hair looks compared to my sisters'?

Yeah, that's because it IS. When the stylist cut off Em's ponytail, she showed it to another stylist, who compulsively said "Tree trunk!" How did they get it all?


And that's how it went down. More pictures can be found at the family blog.
What do you think??

Never have I ever ... or, Should I really be admitting this?

The following may give you license to hate me,
or at least think that I am un-American and uncultured or any number of other terrible things.
I know this because people have before.
-Inspired by Tay

I have never read a book by Mark Twain. Or John Grisham, Orson Scott Card, Laura Ingalls Wilder, the Bronte sisters, Louisa May Alcott. (I do love Charles Dickens, however, and Jane Austen and Madeleine L'Engle. I have also read an impressive number of Baby-Sitter's Club books.)

I have never seen a John Wayne movie. Not one! I also don’t really know who Clint Eastwood is. Couldn’t pick him out of a crowd if you paid me to.

I have never watched The Wizard of Oz all the way through. Have no desire to.

Speaking of, I don’t know what the Wicked hype is all about. Really, I don’t. Some of the music irritates me and I was FURIOUS when two girls sang a song from Wicked at their Seminary graduation. The gall! Just thinking about it gets me riled up again.

I hate a lot of Disney movies. This took me a long time to realize – and even longer to admit. Some of the titles on my hate list:

• Pete’s Dragon
• Pinocchio
• Mary Poppins (shame! I know! It scared me when I was little)
• Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
• Fantasia
• Bambi
• Alice in Wonderland
• The Hunchback of Notre Dame
• All sequels to earlier movies (i.e. Cinderella II, The Little Mermaid II, Pocahontas II)

I have never watched an episode of American Idol. I’ve only seen two snippets, really; last year’s finale with Cook/Archuleta and an audition episode in 2005. I have also never seen an entire episode (or snippets in most cases) of ER, Scrubs, The Simpsons, Lost, CSI, Grey’s Anatomy, Saturday Night Live, Law & Order, Gilmore Girls, Gossip Girl, Desperate Housewives, Heroes…
You name it, I probably haven’t seen it. It would be easier to tell you what television I have watched in the last five (or so) years. Am I really missing anything?

I read the newspaper every day, cover to cover, until I get to the Sports section. Then I skip right over it unless something happens to catch my eye. Like, anything with “BYU” or “Y” in the headline. He he he.

So what do you think?
Where should I start?

Pricks

Sometimes I wonder just how I got here.

I think everyone wonders this occasionally, please tell me you do. What am I doing with my life? Why did I work so hard, spend so much money, for school (etc.) if I was just going to end up back where I started? How can I keep from losing everything I gained?
{Insert all similar queries here.}

I’ve been asking myself these questions even more than usual. Perhaps only because I spend so much time alone. I hate feeling like I’ve squandered my time, wasted my talent - and I’ve been feeling like that a lot lately.

I will not blame it on the “stifling” small town either; it irks me when people whine about where they live. (If you don’t like it, MOVE.) I'm a “bloom where you’re planted” believer. Our high school janitors are some of the best-informed citizens I know.

So… I was especially grateful for President Uchtdorf’s words yesterday morning. He often talks about lifting where we stand and doing the best we can in our circumstances; I love hearing it from him. I need those pricks every so often to kick me out of my hole of self-pity. I can do a lot more than I have been doing.
Isn't it great how millions of people can listen to the exact same talk, yet each one comes away with a different message? Personal revelation is the best thing ever.

It's a glitch

"Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain."

Eleven pages into Twilight, I can already tell how melodramatic Bella is. (Or how profound Stephenie Meyer was trying to be, I'm not sure.) I was thinking get a grip, girl throughout the entire series. She never did.

The idea, though, has been rattling around my own brain ever since, probably because it reminded me of one of my own epiphanies. I once discovered that my eyes see different colors.

Left eye - more subdued, bluish messages
Right eye - vibrant, pink/yellow

We can talk about my amblyopia later.

Realizing this made me wonder - do I see the same colors everyone else does? How would I know if I didn't? How would anyone know, for that matter? What about those poems we wrote in 4th grade describing colors in "feeling" words?
My perception of reality shifted.

I’ve returned to this concept recently, because sometimes, I feel like I just don’t get things that everyone else does. Things like .... well, things.

I read a LOT of personal writings: blogs, books, magazines, letters. I am always intrigued – and befuddled – by people who write about objects. Clothes, Shoes, Accessories, Furniture, Antiques! I don't understand the obsession. Some of them make me smile (CJane’s odes to her pink skirt, for example), a few make me covet. Most make me think, "I missed Consumerism 101."
I don’t like stuff.

I don’t really follow fashion trends (they’re trends, why would I want to follow them?); I dash in and out of the grocery store, grabbing only what’s on my list. I rarely shop for clothes, shoes, or makeup, and even then I stick to the basics. I never buy dishes or plants or decorations. I find it hard to justify eating out; I hate superstores and catalogs and sidewalk sales.
I guess it comes down to this: I hate spending money, especially when it's not necessary.

The material, to me, is immaterial.
Sorry Etsy.

As if I needed another reason to hate Guitar Hero

My sleeping-companion and I awoke at approximately 3:30 this morning - 3:30 A.M. - to the blaring sounds of rock music thumping through the wall. It sounded like our in-house neighbor was playing Guitar Hero or Rock Band, LOUDLY. And I was ticked.

We stayed in bed for a few minutes, listening and wondering what to do. (Slice is even more passive in these kinds of situations than I am, so he was reluctant to make a fuss.) First he tried knocking on the wall between songs, a couple times, but nothing happened. The loud music continued. Next, he threw on shoes and a coat and knocked on the guy's door. I could hear it even over the noise as I stewed in bed.
So when he came back with no response, no car-sighting or even lights on, I said

"if you don't call the police, I will."

You do NOT want to mess with my sleep; ask my husband.

Slice called dispatch, and in the meantime pulled blankets into our hall for me to sleep on.
(The hall was the quietest place in the house with the heater going.)
With my headache? Fat chance.

Half an hour later the officer called back and finally came to check it out. After banging on the door and getting no answer, he blazed in to find our (very large) neighbor passed out on the couch. With his TV blasting.

In the six months we've occupied our house, I can count on one hand the number of times I have seen this guy. He's an oil-field guy and a drinker, that's really all I know.

But we still don't know why we heard song after song after song. Is there some feature on Guitar Hero that plays through the entire songlist if it is left idle? Please tell, I won't find out myself BECAUSE I WILL NEVER OWN THE GAME.



And uh....we're thinking about buying a house.

The Making of a Diva

Last night I went to the local Zion's Bank tree-lighting ceremony.
Every year the elementary school choir puts on a little show, singing a few Christmas songs and waving at camera-laden parents. The cute kids filed in wearing an assortment of Musical Mustangs shirts, Santa hats and well-worn jeans.

One girl pranced in wearing tights, heels, and a frilly pink dress made of velvet and chiffon. Her hair was a trendy A-line bob curled in large ringlets away from her face, showing off big dangly pink earrings. And to top it off, she was wearing....makeup.
I threw up a little in my mouth.

I kept staring at this girl wanting to think she was little-girly and cute. But she wasn't. All I could think was she doesn't look precious, she looks RIDICULOUS. What are her parents thinking? Do they know they're creating a little diva monster?

I don't think any second-grade girl should be allowed to wear makeup. There are more than enough messages today that tell her looks are all that matter. Girls need to grow up thinking they are beautiful for who they ARE - not their sparkly lips and perfect haircuts. One time when my dad heard me talking about how pretty other girls were, he asked "and how much time do they spend making their insides beautiful?" I realized that my personality, compassion and accomplishments mattered much more than my outward appearance.
But you could probably tell that just by looking at me.

Last night after the Temple

We were sitting in the Wal-Mart parking lot, eating Crunchwrap Supremes from Taco Bell - Oh, how I love those things! - and talking about our Youth.
(I was dismayed about the baptism trip. More later.)

Slice: "You know I'm going to spank our kids, right?"
Me: "Umm.......ehh......." {We'd never actually talked about it.}
Slice: "Well I am. I don't care if it's against the law, I'll spank 'em."
Me: laughter
"That's going in the blog."
Slice: "Good."

Water off a duck's back. Water off a duck's back.

I am often surprised at how easily offended some people are.

That even the most personal, unassuming decisions somehow become a personal affront. A call for change is a denunciation of everything that currently stands. It's like everything turns into a moral issue.....and I don't understand.

I’ve wondered, is this especially common in a small town? Or do I just see it more because of where I live?

Perhaps I should be used to it by now. A few times during my school years the grapevine found its way to me, bringing the revelation that “so-and-so doesn’t think you like her.” My bewilderment invariably resulted in days, even weeks of rethinking everything I'd ever said and done, wondering how she could even think that. Then I would try harder to go out of my way, to be more friendly, to show how much I liked everyone.

Because I did – do – and why shouldn’t I?

I thought that only teenage girls were insecure enough to play those games. I wish I had been right.

I have opinions, but I don’t force them on anyone else. I evaluate carefully. I like to be asked what I think. My parents never talked about politics at home and when I finally asked them why, my father said, “Because I want you to form your own opinions.”
I love him for that. And I respect his opinion even more because of it.

So I have this philosophy that goes like this: Give others the benefit of the doubt. Don’t get offended unless someone attacks you personally and intentionally....even then, most of the time you should let it go. And don’t involve their family, friends, or acquaintances. It's not fair to assume guilt by association.

I keep hoping that someday, these silly little battles will cease.
After all, there's a much more important war going on on.