May showers and flowers

This May has been the coldest and wettest I can remember since 2011. But I'm fine with that. Though I'm sad it lessens my time on the trails, I find something comforting and cozy about unseasonable cold. Also, work usually closes early if it's rainy and no one's there, so I get extra free time.

Between storms, I have been able to spend some time outside. May is the prettiest month that is not in the fall, but it has the bonus of staying light for a long time.

The weather and cool temperatures seem to have pushed the wildflowers' natural seasons back a little. I don't remember seeing longleaf phlox this late.

This plant had some unusual four-petaled flowers instead of the usual five.

 We also have common paintbrush,

 Utah sweetpea,

 and arrowleaf balsamroot.

The Bonneville Shoreline Trail isn't always my favorite trail, but I had to make sure I saw the field of Palmer's penstemon this season. They are gorgeous, but they smell even better. I smelled their scent in the air before I saw them.

Tufted evening primrose smells like Froot Loops, but only when you're up close. I adore their huge blossoms.

There are many kinds of vetch, but I can't distinguish them.

Mulesears are just starting to bloom. They haven't reached their peak amazingness yet. But there are few things as fantastic as a full field of mulesears in bloom. But they have a weird smell, even when they're not in bloom.

One evening, I stayed off the trails because they would have been muddy, but I rode my bike on the paved Legacy Parkway Trail. That isn't always the most scenic, but everything is scenic in May, even chain-link fences.

It's so much more fun to spend time outside than cooped up watching TV. This week I thought about making some snide comment about people watching Game of Thrones, but then I remembered that time I was obsessed with Gilligan's Island.


Friday was my day off, and it is a special day. The Friday before Memorial Day is the day I kick off the Fourth of July season. The offerings of red, white, and blue food seem smaller this year, but there are some new things. I am sad that all the Shopkos closed, because they had the best selection of Fourth of July candy. That's almost the only reason I'm sad they closed, but I'm sad nevertheless.

I think this is my second-favorite weekend of the entire year (Thanksgiving being my first). Even though I have to work both Saturday and Monday this year, I love the patriotic and celebratory mood in the air.

This morning, in our Come, Follow Me discussion, my parents both pronounced Lazarus as "Lazareth." I started wondering why no one ever pronounces Nazareth as "Nazarus." Right after I wondered that, one of today's speakers in sacrament meeting said, "Jesus of Nazarus." So it goes both ways after all.

The birds

I only worked four days this week because I had other things I had to do, and it's easier to take a full day off rather than a partial day.

On Monday, I had an interview in Lehi, but I didn't get the job; but I don't know if I wanted it anyway. Recently I decided that I wanted to add the America songs from Schoolhouse Rock to my Fourth of July playlist. But the songs are unavailable on streaming services or as MP3s, but I found out that Graywhale in Sandy happened to have a used CD of America Rock, so I was happy to stop by on my way home to get it.

On Tuesday evening, I had some time for a short run. When I don't have much time, my favorite trail is the Woodbriar Trail. It's one of the prettiest trails, if not the prettiest trail, around. It's also very difficult and steep, which means it's a good workout in a short amount of time, and it's not someplace I want to go if I'm exerting myself for a long time.

I had noticed an unofficial side trail off the main trail, so I thought I would see where it went.

This is the beginning of the main trail. Western waterleaf, which grows under the trees, is in bloom now.

Arrowleaf balsamroot, seen here, is a spectacular flower, but less spectacular than its cousin the mulesears.

 The "trail" didn't go anywhere significant, and it kind of faded away. It looked like portions were once a Jeep trail, and the other parts might have been a game trail. It got really steep. I don't feel a need to go back, but I was glad to satiate my curiosity. Oh, and I saw some wild turkeys.

I also saw a moth that looked like a hummingbird, after I had seen one in our garden earlier than night.

Here is one of those Depression-era ridges constructed for erosion control.

 It was a lovely May evening. Too bad our other May evenings were marred with rain.

On Thursday morning, I returned to the main trail. I haven't been there since the fall, so I wasn't entirely in shape, so I couldn't run without stopping. But I hope to return to my full stamina.

This is an example of a picture I took so I could have an excuse to stop.

I didn't work on Thursday because my old boss at the Church History Department is going to be a mission president, so they had a going-away program for him. His family came and got stuck in the elevator! I found one of the last empty seats in the room, and a woman leaned over to introduce herself. Then I realized that she was my boss from BYU Studies, my first internship! It was good to catch up with her and others I used to work with. Some of my interactions were awkward, because I'm awkward. But then I realized maybe it isn't entirely my fault. Maybe the other person also has some awkwardness that contributes to the situation. I also realized I am perhaps too dismissive when I describe my This Is the Place job. My old boss got a special framed picture that also pictured some of his books about missionary work, and I was glad to see that they included our book that just came out.

At work, we have lots of magpies (and other wildlife) in the park. On Friday, a bird crashed into a window at the press, where I was working. I opened the window to see if it was all right; I saw it sitting on the ground, blinking its eyes, but I didn't know if it was hurt or not. Next thing I knew, a magpie had grabbed it in its beak, then flew a few yards away and started pecking at it! It was sad to hear the bird chirping. I didn't know magpies did that. But I didn't know what we were going to do with an injured bird (if it was in fact injured), so I was glad that the magpie made the decision for us.

Remember last week when I showed you that poor-quality patriotic decoration ("Land where my father died")? Well, I found another one. "The American Spirt lives forver." Don't spend your money on this garbage, folks.

Instead, spend it on worthwhile decorations, like I do. If it doesn't have any words, it can't have any typos.

Cardio

Some people like lifting weights but hate cardio. I'm the opposite. I do pushups every morning, and I hate them every morning. We have a weight set in our house, yet I don't use it too often, because it's not fun. But cardio is something I enjoy. I had a triathlon this week, so I tried to get some last-minute training in.

On Monday, my ward played kickball, and I participated, because I thought it might be fun to try again. I'm fine with kicking and running. But every time I'm in the outfield, I'm super stressed out about it, dreading that the ball is going to come to me. It's not even fun. At one point I caught the ball and dropped it, and I felt so bad I let my team down. That's one reason I don't like sports. I don't like competition that much. If I don't win, I feel bad that I'm not great; if I do win, I feel bad that I made other people lose.

On Tuesday, I didn't want to get on the trails, because it was muddy. So instead, I took my bike down and rode about twelve miles on the Jordan River Parkway Trail. It was a great night, and I liked being so close to the river. But I felt weird biking through Rose Park, and I didn't like crossing Redwood Road.

On Wednesday, I had my last session of tutoring for the Tongan Ward for the rest of the school year. They were having a garage sale thing for that ward, and I found this weird DVD:

Talk about a strange element of Mormon culture! Remember those Baby Einstein videos for babies and toddlers? This apparently was a Latter-day Saint knockoff. So many things beg for attention. The ugly baby. The unrelated locations (Kolob, Iowa, and Aspen?). The lowercase "am" in the title, even though it should be capitalized because it's a verb. The concept itself.

On Thursday I ran on the Bonneville Shoreline Trail. It had been two weeks since I had been running, due to my recent sickness, and it was harder than usual, but maybe that's because of kickball and biking earlier in the week. I did see some tufted evening primrose, a wonderful flower with huge blossoms. I am disappointed that I've been sick and it's been rainy, because May is the best month for trails, except for maybe the fall months.

Friday, May 10, was the 150th anniversary of the transcontinental railroad, and This Is the Place did some major events for it.

That meant we had to work from 9 a.m. (early meeting) until 8 p.m. It wasn't as busy as we expected, but it was still busier than a typical day. I was assigned to be in the bank, but there were two of us there, because it was expected it would be very busy. My coworker was in the print shop, but he was busy helping with the cannon and other things, so I had to do the field trips in that site, and I was back and forth all day. It was a busy day.

Then Saturday, I got up early for my triathlon, which I also did last year. It was less intimidating this year, because I already knew what to expect. But I was nervous, because I had done less training. I hadn't been to the pool in more than a month, and my recent sickness certainly didn't help.

The swimming part, which was first, wasn't great. I passed one person, but many others passed me. I didn't do as well as I had done in my practice swims; I had to do an extra lap of breaststroke to catch my breath. I think I did more freestyle swimming than I did last year, yet somehow my time was worse. But the time includes time in and out of the pool, and I didn't hear the volunteer tell me I could get in, and maybe I was slower getting out?

They changed the bike route on the morning of the race. I don't know what it was originally supposed to be, but it was certainly different from last year. Last year's course was completely flat, but this year it involved more hills. Good thing I often go on hills when I go biking! It also involved being in more traffic, and I spent a long time at a red light.

I only have a mountain bike, which means my biking is really slow, and I didn't pass a single person. Also, I think the gears were poorly designed. The lever that shifts up on the left is the lever that shifts down on the right, so I can never remember which lever does what. I still cannot come up with a conceivable reason they would make it that way.

The run was only three miles, which is a short run for me, but it just seemed extra hard this time around. But since I am a runner and not so much a biker or swimmer, not a single person passed me running, and I passed many people.

I ended up eight seconds worse than my time last year, and honestly I'm surprised that's all, since the bike route was so different. I might have made up for the time in the transition area.

I had three friends who also did the race as a relay. Their time was eight minutes slower than mine, but they finished earlier because their swimmer got in the pool first. They took a picture of me, and then we went to breakfast, after I put my pants on.

This time I was #197, "O Savior, Thou Who Wearest a Crown." Last year, I was #319, "Ye Elders of Israel."

I spent the rest of the day buying new shoes and weird cereals. Since I already showed you the weird Baby Mormon find, I want to show you this unfortunate decorative sign I saw at Walmart:

Do you see that? "Land where my father died"? They missed one letter, and it entirely changes the meaning. In this case, the context means it's not even an issue of singular vs. plural! This is why nobody likes you, Walmart!

More spurge purging

Last week, as you recall, I was sick. I was recovering, and I had every intention of going to work on Monday. But I did not sleep well Sunday night, and I had a headache. When I got up on Monday, my headache and my poor sleep meant that working sounded absolutely terrible.

But on Tuesday I was back at work. It might have been better for my physical well-being to stay home, but it was better for my mental well-being to be at work. I hate doing nothing all day!

I always like it when it snows in May, so I was glad to see snow on May 1. Will that be our last snow until November?

But since I was still recovering, it wasn't a very eventful week. I didn't want to be running again, so I took the opportunity to purge more spurge from the trails. Yesterday I went to the Chukar Loop, a more remote section that nevertheless has some spurge. I thought I might make more of a dent here. And I think I did! These pictures aren't the exact same spot, but they show some improvement. Before:

 After:

The plants on the flat part were difficult to pull out, and mostly I was pulling stems off the main root. But when they were growing on the slope, they were a lot easier to pull, and I managed to get most of the roots. Hooray!

Personally, I think goatheads are worse than spurge, but I think spurge is worse for the environment. Goatheads tend to grow where nothing else is growing, but spurge takes over. It was disheartening to see it growing among my favorite wildflowers, including arrowleaf balsamroot, vetch, and western waterleaf.

Perhaps I wasn't extremely responsible in purging it, because I just left the uprooted plants along the trail. If I took containers, they would fill up too quickly, and plastic is bad for the environment anyway. With some of the plants, I was so happy to pull them up that I threw them away in triumph, and they landed in trees.

I am paying for it today, with some mild rashes on my wrists, which were not always protected from these nefarious plants' milky substance.

Unfortunately, I doubt my little efforts will have much of an effect, but at least I'm trying to do something about the problem. It is not enough to simply gripe about it.

another anniversary

Today (May 1) is the eighth anniversary of this blog, and I like to post on every anniversary.

Sometimes I have done lists or themes, but I couldn't think of anything I really cared to do this time. So I just thought I would jot down some thoughts about my blog.

During the spring of 2011, I was reading my mission emails, and I liked that I had a weekly account of what I was doing for those two years. I thought a blog would fill the same purpose.

I feel like I more or less became who I am in 2012, so I get a little embarrassed by my posts from 2011. If I had made my blog after 2011, I probably would have picked a different URL. Oh well, it works.

In 2012–2014, I was in school, and I would often geek out over the things I was learning, especially my geology classes. I also fancied myself as exceptionally weird and exceptionally awkward. The "weird" part came from amused introspection and self-reflection; the "awkward" part came from my own insecurities.

Not to discount my own actual weirdness and awkwardness, but I have come to realize that everyone thinks they're weird and awkward. I see lots of memes of penguins acting funny or people making strange faces, and people like to tag themselves as the weird one. So it is perfectly normal to think you're weird. Also, everyone is insecure to some degree, and everyone agonizes over the less-than-perfect things they say and do.

When I was no longer in school (starting in 2014), I would often geek out about the historical things I was learning at work. And without any homework, I was able to spend more time blogging about hobbies: trail running, summertime baking, cooking unusual vegetable dishes. I find myself increasingly uncomfortable blogging about movies, TV shows, plays, and other pop culture; I just feel so corny doing so. I feel like my blog became more popular in 2015 or 2016.

In 2015, I began my annual tradition of pumpkinundation roundup, which has been more popular than I expected. I find it obnoxious when people are always blogging their meals. Like, who cares? But people seem to like my collection of pumpkin stuff.

I have found that a lot of people make perceptions about me, but their perceptions are not always accurate. Since I am naturally a quiet person, people don't always know much about me in person. But because of my blogging, people can learn more about me that they might not know. I like the idea that I am full of surprises, and I like to think that I am far more interesting (and funnier) than people would otherwise assume. (And now I feel totally conceited and self-centered.)

I still have not missed a single Sunday since I started. (OK, maybe there were a few times I blogged after midnight, but that was still before I went to bed.) I look forward to writing my blog each week. I can just write whatever I feel like, and I don't have to worry about it being logical or convincing. I don't have to cite sources. I just like getting my thoughts and my jokes out there in a low-pressure setting.

A year from now, I will probably read this post and cringe. But I already cringe at all my old posts anyway.

Sick days

I pride myself on not getting sick very often, but this week was an exception. I had to take the entire week off, with a sore throat and lots of congestion. That's the longest I think I have ever stayed home. I have been sicker, but this was a longer duration. Some of it also has to do with the fact that my present job includes interacting with the public all the time, so it's more important for me to stay away.

It all started on Good Friday, when I woke up with a slightly sore throat. No problem, I just figured it was dehydration or a canker sore or something. I feel bad; that was the day I was in the barbershop, touching people all day. I hope I didn't start an epidemic!

On the day before Easter, I wanted to run up Mueller Park, which is just over 3 miles up, 6.5 miles round trip. But when I got just over a mile up, I wasn't feeling very good. My throat and lungs hurt. I might have been able to power through it, but I really had no desire to, which is unusual. So I only went two miles instead of six.

On Easter Sunday, I felt a little worse.

But Easter night, I had to keep drinking water to soothe my sore throat. I had to get up every hour to release the water and blow my nose. And when I woke up on Monday morning, I was just too congested and sore to go to work, so I stayed home.

That pattern continued three more nights. All I felt like doing was watching trashy TV shows. One of my Sundance coworkers wanted me to help out with a book she was working on, so I did work for that while I was home, only to find out at the end of the week that the publishing deal fell through.

As I was sick, I kept thinking, "How do people binge watch stuff when they're healthy?" I just feel so lazy and worthless watching TV all day! I'm sad that I got sick this week, when the weather was so nice.

Monday was Earth Day, and I wanted to do something environmental, but I was in no shape for a run or hike. So I went to the Wild Rose Trail to try to pull up myrtle spurge. That did require physical exertion, but I did it anyway. I feel like I'm hardly making a dent in it. But it's still better than nothing. One couple asked if I considered it a weed; I explained how it was an invasive species that took over the hillside. The woman picked up a piece, but I said, "Oh, don't touch it! This milky stuff can give you a rash." And indeed, I have a tiny bit of rash on my wrist, where my sleeves and gloves didn't cover. So even though I didn't pull much myself, I was able to educate people about it. And I only started doing it because I was educated last year. I should make more time to get rid of it.

The yellow flower on the right is arrowleaf balsamroot, one of my favorite wildflowers. It is tragic that the spurge competes with such a wonderful plant. There were also some vetch plants being crowded out by the spurge.

On Friday, I was finally feeling better, but still not well enough to work. My parents were camping on Antelope Island. On Friday afternoon, I rode with my sister to see them there, my favorite island. We went to the visitor center, but I was in no condition to do anything else.

Saturday was my scheduled day off. I had heard that the original Golden Spike was on display at the Utah Museum of Fine Arts, but it was the last weekend there. I wanted to see it, so I did. I was glad to see it, but I was unimpressed with the exhibit. There were absolutely no explanatory signs for the spikes. The spikes have writing on them, but it was too hard to read, and I would have appreciated a caption. The rest of the exhibit was boring black-and-white photographs of the nineteenth century. There were stereoscopes, which are cool, but you can only look at so many. I liked the other museum exhibits better than the one I went to see.

Last night I wanted to try Empire Chinese Kitchen, a relatively new restaurant in North Salt Lake. But the Asian woman "helping" us spoke almost no English. We wanted a combination plate, but she told us we couldn't get what we wanted. She couldn't answer our most basic questions, and we literally did not know what we were getting when we ordered. I feel conflicted. I think it's great that immigrants can come here and get jobs and be successful and share their culture. But if you're running a business, you need to be able to communicate with your customers! I feel super racist, like one of those MAGA types saying "We speak English here!" But it was a frustrating experience. That was my worst experience with a language barrier at an Asian restaurant, but not my only one. If you can't answer my questions, then your menu and sign had better be 100 percent clear.

Oh, and then my mom got food poisoning. I don't plan to go back there.

Easter and a cannon

I had varied experiences at This Is the Place this week. On Monday and Tuesday, it was super rainy, so we closed early. When that happens, I like to go downtown to the Church History Library to do research for a project I'm working on, and on Monday this week, I was in a line behind Paul Reeve, a famous author in the world of Mormon history, who wrote the excellent Religion of a Different Color. But I was too shy and scared to introduce myself.

Then as the sunshine returned this week, This Is the Place was super busy. I gave several field trips. One class only had two students, and another had eight. (The rest had more typical numbers.) I feel conflicted about working there. It really is a mostly relaxing, mostly low-stress job. I don't dread going to work every day, and I enjoy all the quiet time I get, and I even like giving field trip classes. I like hearing the funny things kids say. On Friday, I was in the barbershop, where we put shaving soap on people's faces and then "shave" it off. Some kids wanted their mom to get a shave, but another kid didn't want her to, so when I put the soap on her face, he started crying. One toddler, "who was no more than two," took a look at her sister with soap on her face and said, "Oh no! What happened?" Then she covered her eyes. It was hilariously adorable. A few weeks ago, one kid (probably about three years old) said to me, "Tank you! You're handsome!" as he was leaving.

At the same time, though, I work less than forty hours a week, and it's seasonal, so I get no benefits. I'm a published author working with high school students, and I get less money than I could make working retail. It's way better than retail, because the people who come to the park are there because they want to be. But I can't help but feel vastly overqualified. (Because I am.) And sometimes I feel bad about myself that I can't get a real job.

On special occasions, we fire a nineteenth-century cannon. There's no cannonball, just black powder. On Friday, we were trained to operate the cannon, so all of us new people got to shoot it. I can now add "shot a cannon" to a list of my life's accomplishments. There are various words that must be shouted with each task of shooting the cannon, and I was somewhat inadequate because I literally cannot yell. It is a little intimidating to use such an enormous, noisy, dangerous weapon.

I enjoyed preparing for Easter. It does baffle me that such a wonderful, meaningful holiday gets so much less attention than the holidays of the last quarter of the year, and it seems to become increasingly less popular. Not that it's endangered, it's just shrinking. I mean, I like Halloween/Thanksgiving/Christmas more than Easter as well, but I wish Easter got more attention. All year long, I look forward to listening to the most adorable Easter albums ever made, but they're like fifty years old. Why isn't there anything more recent?

This year, I'm trying to do new things for holidays, so this year I bought an Easter lily, because we have never had one. It is gorgeous and fragrant. Our poinsettias always die after the holiday, but two years ago I bought a shamrock plant that keeps coming back to life, so we'll see how long this holiday plant lasts.

In 2012, I began counting carrot cake as an Easter dessert, and in 2013, the fad of carrot cake flavors for Easter began. Just this year alone, I have had many carrot cake items made specifically (or presumably) for Easter: Oreos, My Sugar Fix cookies, Crumbl cookies, Normal Ice Cream composed cone, Hostess Donettes, Dove Promises, and maybe some others I'm forgetting.

I'm all for it, because I love carrot cake. But really, it's the carrots that have the Easter connection, not the cake, so I decided to make carrot pie for our family dinner. I found a recipe online. I didn't enjoy it as much as I expected I would, but it was still a perfectly passable pie.

 We did have carrot cake as well.

Today in Sunday School, we read Doctrine and Covenants 19:16–19, and one person commented about the significance of the em dash in verse 18. Not many people know what an em dash is (you probably didn't notice that I used an en dash in my scripture reference), but I do, and I didn't buy his interpretation of the punctuation mark. So I looked it up and found that the original publication used colons instead of em dashes. But I didn't have the heart to invalidate the meaning he found in punctuation.