Two thousand eighteen

Well, it's the end of another year. Often I find myself sad at the New Year, but for some reason I don't feel that sad this time around.

Twenty eighteen was a very unusual year for me. So. Here are memories of all the strange happenings of 2018.

January. I started the month unemployed, actively searching for jobs. I had an interview at BYU, but I didn't get it. I went to the Midway Ice Castles and downtown to a devotional with the Uchtdorfs. In the middle of the month, I flew to California to spend nearly two weeks with my nephews, including the birthdays of Nathaniel (who turned 8) and Franklin (who turned 10). Franklin had a lot of migraines and needed someone at school with him, so I spent a few days in his class. While I was there, I began growing a beard, which I have had ever since. After I returned home, I had a job interview out in Dugway. I didn't want that job, but on the way back, I stopped in Iosepa, a Hawaiian ghost town in Tooele County. I went snowshoeing up North Canyon and ended up with sore heels.

I arrived in California on Nathaniel's birthday, and we ate at In-N-Out. Apparently I became narcissistic this year, since so many of these pictures are of myself.

February. I started counting calories for Lent. I drove down to Cedar City and St. George in my quest to check off counties and county seats. I had a few random drives up north, including one through Morgan and up to East Canyon State Park.

I couldn't do anything in East Canyon State Park in February, so I didn't feel too bad that I couldn't pay the whole fee.

March. I observed St. David's Day, the national holiday of Wales on March 1, by wearing a red sweater and cooking Welsh cakes. In one week, I saw Phillip Phillips in concert and the Utah Opera. That was also the same week I headed to Manti for a job interview (I didn't want that job, either) and attended a snowy St. Patrick's Day parade in Salt Lake. I attended the Tabernacle Choir's Messiah concert. I went to March for Our Lives at the Capitol to protest politicians' refusal to do anything about gun violence.

If you can pass a background check, why would you object to one?

 April. On Easter Sunday, which was also general conference and April Fools' Day, I made a layered carrot cake. I ran (most of the way) to the top of Frary Peak on Antelope Island. I pulled out my dad's old record player and got a couple of records for it. I observed Earth Day by picking up litter and Arbor Day by pulling up myrtle spurge. Most significantly, I accepted a job at This Is the Place Heritage Park. The pay wasn't great, but it was better than doing nothing all year.

This is the longest my beard got before I started keeping it trimmed.

 May. I observed Cinco de Mayo on my own with my ward and then Train Day at This Is the Place. I participated in a triathlon, which consisted of a 350-yard swim, a 12-mile bike ride, and a 3-mile run. It was fun, even though it was cold and wet. I drove up to see Spiral Jetty, which was on my bucket list, and had dinner in Brigham City. I was awestruck at all the beautiful wildflowers on trails and aww-struck by the adorable feral kittens at work.

I was glad to finally see Spiral Jetty. It was almost completely dry.

 June. This was a big month. I went to Panguitch's Quilt Festival, and on the same journey I also visited the county seats of Fillmore, Beaver, Kanab, Junction, and Richfield. Then my family took a vacation to the East. We spent a few days in New York City before driving out to Mystic Seaport, Connecticut; Rhode Island; Plymouth, Boston, and Salem, Massachusetts; Maine; Mount Washington, New Hampshire; Sharon, Vermont; Québec; and Lake George, New York. It was a wonderful trip, and I especially enjoyed Plymouth. After we got back, I made a day trip up to Ogden, Logan, and Randolph.

My sister and me by Plymouth Rock.

July. I wore a flag-print suit to church on July 1, the same day that my nephews came in from California. On the Fourth of July, they came and visited me at This Is the Place. After a job interview in Provo, I stopped in Price, Castle Dale, and the Cleveland-Lloyd Dinosaur Quarry. I had to work Pioneer Day, but I got to be in the park's mini parades, and I even got the men to carry the Declaration of Independence, consistent with the first decade of July 24 parades. My friend Susan invited a group of us to her family home in Jerome, Idaho, so that was a fun road trip.

Here are my niece and nephews in the print shop at This Is the Place with me.

 August. My stake had a massive camp up at Cinnamon Creek in Cache County. It was fun, but I felt out of place as one of the older YSAs. On one of my days off, I wanted to go down to the Wayne County Fair in Loa. I was a day or two too early, but I decided to go the extra way to visit Capitol Reef, where I had a fun, spontaneous trail run among the red rocks, against my better judgment. Later in the month, I checked off more of my bucket list by going to Timpanogos Cave and swimming in the Great Salt Lake.

The signs on the trail were a little confusing, so I worried I was going to be lost in Capitol Reef in a thunderstorm.

 September. My family went down to Fillmore Canyon on September 1, our traditional Labor Day excursion, though it had been many years since we'd been. The next weekend, my old friend David accompanied me to visit Moab and Monticello, and then I finished my goal of visiting all twenty-nine county seats while I was twenty-nine! We also hiked Mount Peale, the county high point of San Juan County, though I didn't make it all the way to the summit. I went to Antelope Island for the third time in 2018 to see the National Parks band in concert. My parents bought a new trailer, and they first used it at the end of the month at Wasatch Mountain State Park. I spent the evenings there with them, and their last day there was the day I turned thirty. I heard people say that twenty-nine was worse than thirty, but for me it's mostly the opposite, I think for a few reasons.

Mount Peale was beautiful, but I felt a little uneasy without a trail.

 October. This Is the Place held an event called Little Haunts. To prepare, I bought books on the history of Halloween and then typeset my own paragraph to use as a park decoration. I also got to don orange tights to play Alice the Dragon, which was physically difficult but fun. The season ended there, but on Halloween, I had my first day of work at the Sundance Film Festival in Park City.

I mostly made this because I wanted to use the Halloween dingbat.

 November. For a few weeks at Sundance, I had little to do, so I was able to proofread the PDF of the book I have coming out in the spring. I spent my breaks running on the nearby trails. On Thanksgiving, I ran a 10k and made stuffing with Cap'n Crunch because I had a dream about it. Once Thanksgiving was over, work became busy, and I had lots of overtime, which was a little sad to have during Christmastime.

I only got a week or so of good trail running in Park City. Oh well.

December. I discovered that I can go hiking in the snow; in the past, I've always been too afraid of it. I attended the Lower Lights Christmas concert and then the Tabernacle Choir concert with Kristin Chenoweth after a stranger gave us tickets. My nephews came to visit for Christmas. It was good to spend time with them, even though I had to work a lot.

My breaks at work became more interesting again when I started wearing boots so I could hike in the snow.

It was a fun year, but a weird one.

So what does 2019 have in store for me?

Well, in three weeks my job at Sundance ends, just in time for me to use the free Festival tickets they gave me. I will once again be on the job hunt, but I can go back to This Is the Place if all else fails. In May, my book The Saints Abroad: Missionaries Who Answered Brigham Young's 1852 Call to the Nations of the World will be for sale. At the end of 2019, I will age out of the YSA ward. And then it will be time to reflect not only on the end of a year but the end of a decade. (Don't give me that nonsense about "the decade ends in 2020 because numbers start at one." We talk about the 80s and 90s, not "that decade that began in 1981 and ended in 1990.")

But other than that--I have no idea.

Why is it all for Christmas?

I just love Christmas. Even though it's only my second favorite, it's still a wonderful time.

My nephews (and their parents) have arrived in time for the holiday, and I have enjoyed spending time with them (when I'm not working overtime 🙁), going sledding, and playing my official Christmas playlist. I made gingerbread pancakes, and Nathaniel (8) made his into "Rudolph the White-Nosed Reindeer."

While I was writing this, Franklin (10) was saying we keep our fireplaces on for Christmas, and then Santa comes and gets burned. My sister said, "Good thing he's magic," and Nathaniel said, "He's not magic, he's just a fat man who's died 120 times."

Here is a visual representation of the nine holidays I celebrate and where they rank:
🦃🎄🎃 . . 🇺🇸 . 🐣 . 🐝 . . 🕛☘ . . 💘

(Did you know there are at least eighteen heart emojis? Why do we need so many?)

There are many self-proclaimed Christmas lovers, and I probably like Easter even more than most of those people like Christmas, and you can see how far down Easter is.

I give you all this introduction to convince you that I'm not a Scrooge. (I think it's unfair to call people "Scrooge" or "Grinch" because it ignores their redemption in the stories, but you know what I mean.)

But even with as great as Christmas is, I think it's excessive.

For example: there are lots of Christmas parties. Workplace Christmas parties, ward Christmas parties, school Christmas parties, family Christmas parties, friend Christmas parties, public Christmas parties, and more. It's a very busy time of year.

But why is it so concentrated into one season? Why isn't it spread out more evenly? Your work could make Halloween the big party, your ward could have a major Easter party, schools could have big St. Patrick's Day parties, your family party could be on the Fourth of July, your friends could have a big New Year's party, the city could have a big Valentine's Day party. And then you'd have more time for Christmas shopping, wrapping presents, caroling, etc.

(Six years ago, I worked for BYU Studies, and rather than a Christmas party, they had an Epiphany party, and it was held after Epiphany. It was the middle of January, which was brilliant. But it still had a strong Christmas theme, which was super weird. Why not just have a winter party?)

It applies to other things as well: concerts, festivals, decorations, candy, symbols, and so on.

I own more than 1,350 Christmas songs. My next biggest playlist is Easter, at only 174 songs. Why is there such a discrepancy?

You say, "Well, there aren't many songs for other holidays." That's no excuse. There are lots of new Christmas songs made each year, but few for the others.

(Speaking of, let me make a plug here. There were many big-name artists who released Christmas albums this year: Ingrid Michaelson, John Legend, Jessie J, the Monkees, and more. But my favorite Christmas album of 2018 is one I never heard of: JD McPherson's Socks. It's a great album of ten original songs, all with a 50s vibe but still fresh and new. I highly recommend it.)

Over the years, Christmas has assimilated various symbols and traditions: trees, snowflakes, snowmen, bells, poinsettias, wreaths, holly, mistletoe, candles, lights, candy canes, gingerbread men, stars, stockings, nativities, ornaments, polar bears, Santa, elves, reindeer, sleighs, garlands, bows, presents, nutcrackers, angels, and more.

I realize all of this is part of what makes Christmas so great. But maybe we should spread the love out a little bit. Why is it all for Christmas?

Cold winter's nights

I was actually pretty busy with work this week, and on Tuesday I even suggested that we work from home so we would have two extra hours where we weren't commuting. I think that was a wise decision, because it really is a waste of time being in a car two hours every day, but I do get a little restless working from home. In the office, I have regularly scheduled breaks where I go walk on the trails or roads. When I'm at home, I do other things on my breaks, like putting my laundry away. It drives me crazy when I'm sitting all day.

Wednesday was all snowy, but inexplicably we still had to go into the office, even though it was snowier than the snow day we had a few weeks ago. Whoever has the job to declare snow days wasn't doing their job.

But I wore my boots and was able to create the first footprints on the trails. (I didn't really try to run in the snow this week; just walked.)

 On Thursday evening, I had an idea that it would be fun to go on a nighttime hike on the Wild Rose Trail in order to look at all the Christmas lights on the houses below me. I'm glad I did it, because now I know that it's not really that cool. Mostly I was just freaked out, there in the dark in the snow by myself. I whistled Christmas songs the whole time to ease my apprehension.

This was Park City on Friday. I'm ho-ho-hoping we get more snow before Christmas so it doesn't all melt away.

 This week I wanted to attend the Mormon Tabernacle Choir Christmas concert. I didn't go last year, but I went in 2016, 2015, and the overflow in the Tabernacle in 2014. My mom was sick, and my dad doesn't really like leaving the house, so I went with my sister and my niece, my concert buddies for Katy Perry and Lady Gaga last year. We were content just to watch the broadcast in the Tabernacle, instead of being in the Conference Center itself, so we didn't care that we were so far back in the queue for standby tickets.

Well, we were sitting there, the three of us, when a woman came up and asked if we wanted to go into the Conference Center--she had three extra tickets, and she just gave them to us! If my mom had come, I doubt she would have given us tickets (because then there would have been four of us), so thanks for being sick, Mom! The exchange was a little awkward, and my brain keeps replaying my inappropriate reaction. But I was just so surprised--of all the people in the Tabernacle, that woman decided to offer her tickets to us!

But our awkward interaction was not as awkward as the woman who gave the opening prayer. I thought she went on too long. But at the end, she said, "In the name of Thy Son, our Brother, Amen. Jesus." But after she said "Amen," everyone said "Amen" and opened their eyes, so her "Jesus" was too late.

This year's guest, Kristin Chenoweth, was the most down-to-earth of the guests they have had. No wonder she was Glinda in Wicked! I know some of that is a PR persona, but there were some apparently unscripted moments that illustrated it. For example, at one point she said, "As I have gotten older, Christmas become more about Santa Claus and getting presents. I mean, it's become less about Santa Claus and getting presents. Oops! Did they get that on film?"

From our seats, it was a little hard to see what was going on, because we were on the sides. But we were close enough to actually see the people. The décor all had a gift theme, and there were giant presents with screens that would change according to the song. (There was an unfortunate abundance of eight-point snowflakes, which are even worse than North Pole penguins. NVM, I take that back, but they're still pretty bad.)

They sang "The Twelve Days of Christmas" and had the audience sing along with "five gold rings" and "a partridge in a pear tree." That arrangement was the one they used with the King's Singers back in 2007. Ten years ago, I listened to the King's Singers/MoTab collaboration all the time while driving around Davenport, WA, so it was fun to feel connected to that familiar arrangement.

The choir sang "Somewhere in My Memory," which evoked memories of singing that song in my second grade Christmas program. I find it strange that such a sentimental, beautiful song comes from a cheesy slapstick movie that I haven't even seen since elementary school. Artificial snow fell from the ceiling during the song.

Normally they have the guest artist read verses from Luke 2. This time, they just showed videos of kids reading it. I don't mean to sound like a curmudgeon, but it was awful. Kids stumbling over Christmas scriptures at home is cute. Kids you don't know stumbling over scriptures on a prerecorded video in front of twenty thousand people is just dumb. I sure hope they don't do that again. It just went on and on and on. I was glad when that part was over!

Overall, I thought it was a relatively mid-quality performance. I say "relatively" because all their Christmas concerts are very well done and spectacular. Kristin Chenoweth is definitely more enjoyable than the opera singers they've had. But I thought the show relied more on her persona than on any show-stopping musical number. Richard Elliott's organ solo wasn't as epic as it was in other concerts.

Now, here's hoping next year's guest is Stefani Germanotta. 😉

A marshmallow world

For work, we have to sign up to ride a vanpool to Park City. Well, I didn't sign up in time, so I didn't get on the van. So on Monday, I drove myself to Park City, on the day of a light snowstorm.

It turns out that many people sign up to ride the van and then don't show up. How rude! So the rest of the week I showed up at the van and was able to ride up, even though there wasn't room on the sign-up sheet.

(I am feeling pretty cynical about my job at the moment, with the way it eats at my time by making me commute two hours every day, and then there's working overtime. Sundance prides itself on being green, which is great, but someone pointed out--if they want to be green, why don't they open an office in Salt Lake? That's where most people commute from! And it's not like there's one big Sundance headquarters--they just fill in random small buildings throughout Park City, so they could easily buy or rent an office space in the Salt Lake Valley. Furthermore, most of what I do for work could easily be done from home.)

Anyway, back to my story. There had been a little bit of snow Monday morning, so driving up to Park City was challenging. But not for the slipperiness. Since the road was wet, my windshield kept getting dirty. And worst of all, the road was wet but the sky was clear, so the glare on the road was horrendous. At one point, I didn't realize that the lane next to me was ending, and a semi was getting over, and I just thought its emergency flashers were on, since they always are in Parleys Canyon. I had to slam on my brakes.

Then, once I got to Park City, I had to park a mile away, because parking is really problematic there, even though "Park" is literally the city's name. (My coworkers later told me I could park in the office parking lot, even though technically I'm supposed to have a parking permit.) But I was prepared to walk over, and even though it was like 12 degrees, I was nice and toasty, because I had come prepared.

(Another thing that bugs me about Park City is that they encourage people to be green by not driving, but there's a shocking dearth of sidewalks. Only the main roads have them. How can you expect people to walk when all you give them is icy gutters?)

All this is really to tell you that I was prepared for snow, and I was wearing the boots I got ten years ago in Airway Heights, WA. I felt confident walking through snow.

And then. I realized that since I could walk in snow, I could walk on the trails right by the office. I ran on those trails a month ago, but I've stayed away since the first snows arrived. But here I was on them again! I didn't even need snowshoes, and they weren't icy yet (ice is my archnemesis). It was lovely to be out in nature in another season.

And then, since I was confident walking in snow, I was even confident enough to run in the snow! It is a lot harder than running on a dry trail, and the right conditions have to be met, and I can't do it too much or I'll get blisters on my heel. But this is a total game changer for me. I'm not a big fan of winter, but this could save the season for me, now that I know I can still go on the trails. It's still not ideal, but it's better than staying inside all January. 

(Once someone told me she preferred winter to summer because she liked staying inside and reading and watching movies. Um, you can still do those things in the summer, so that doesn't make winter better!)

We'll see if I'm still feeling so optimistic in January, because Christmas really makes winter seem delightful, when it's not. But I couldn't help whistling "A Marshmallow World."

Since I had to work the day after Thanksgiving, I took a floating holiday on Friday. It was nice to have the day off, but it meant I had to work all day Saturday, and what's the fun in that? I was able to walk (not run) on my beloved Wild Rose Trail. It was a little more slippery than Park City because it was more packed down, but I'll definitely have to keep this trail in mind again in winter, and not just pine for March.

After my snowy "hike," I was able to do some Christmas shopping and then made carrot celery soup.

Then came my favorite new Christmas tradition. This was our fifth year attending the Lower Lights Christmas concert!

They are seriously so fun. Better than Tabernacle Choir concerts. Better than the Katy Perry concert last year. It's a group of local artists (some more successful than others) getting together to sing folksy versions of Christmas and gospel songs. Not all of them are Mormon. It's a rollicking evening; I highly recommend the concerts. Oh, and I saw Ben McAdams outside the theater (though I'm not sure if he was attending)!

Back on my mission, I discovered the singer Cherie Call, and she is my favorite. I think that's how I heard of the Lower Lights, and now this is a beloved tradition. Last year I thought they would have a new Christmas album out by now, but nope. I even thought they were recording one secretly when they were in town in August. I guess not.

Anyway, I'm always looking for ways to make winter less depressing. And I might have found it this week.

The decline

Over the last month or so, I have seen my weekly page views decrease dramatically.

I think this is because Facebook has once again changed its algorithms. There are things that keep showing up in my feed where I'm like, "I don't care to see it. That's not even funny!" But then somehow I will find a post that I haven't seen, and then I'm like, "Why didn't you show that to me? That was a better post."

(As an aside that's only tangentially related, I was waiting to check out at Walmart this week when I saw this conversation:

Woman (motions to her purchases): I want all of it.

Cashier: (silence)

Woman: I don't think you got my joke. I said I want all of it.

Cashier: (chuckles politely)

That was, like, the worst "joke" I have ever heard. No wonder the cashier didn't laugh!)

It was nine years ago today that I first joined Facebook. Then around 2011 and 2012, I loved Facebook and would go on it all the time. Well, I didn't necessarily love it, but I was addicted to it.

Then over the years, it got worse and worse. They invented the "share" button, and Facebook became a place for old ladies to share fake news and recipes.

They had an "unsubscribe from comments and likes" feature, but then they nonsensically got rid of it. They still have an "unsubscribe" feature, but it's pointless, because I still see posts from people and pages I know I unsubscribed from. Even from pages or people I don't know or like.

Now, with their algorithm shift, this blog might be the only reason I still use Facebook. It's where I get my blog traffic. But Facebook isn't fun anymore. Whereas I used to look forward to it, now I don't necessarily find excuses to get on it. I'm just tired of getting on the computer and getting sucked into pointless stuff. Part of this is because of my own life choices and priorities, but some of it is because of how terrible Facebook has gotten.

At one point, I remember thinking Facebook was much too big and popular to join MySpace in a virtual graveyard. It's still a long way from death, but it's on its way there.

And I don't feel bad for Facebook, because it's their own changes that made it worse. They're digging their own grave.

But don't worry, I will keep posting my blog to Facebook. Until something better comes along.