you're so skinny right now.

Being married to a distance runner is an interesting experience, especially when it comes to compliments. Because Rivers is an elite athlete and studies exercise science, his mind functions at a different level than us regular folk. It's not every man that will tell you with genuine enthusiasm that “Oh babe, your calves look great right now”, or “your peronius longus is super defined”. Over the years I've learned to really appreciate these strange yet sincere compliments, however there have been a couple of occasions when Rivers' anatomically-correct flattery has caused some problems.

One of the first compliments I received from him while we were dating was “You're really barrel-chested, you know.” Barrel-chested, barrel-chested...Nope, not a term that was in my vocabulary. I quickly tried to figure out how this was not offensive, as I was sure he hadn't intended it to be. Did he mean I had big boobs? Broad shoulders? I played Donkey Kong a lot? Hmmm...I wasn't really getting it, so I just had to ask.

S: Ummm...What exactly does barrel-chested mean?
R: Well, it's a really good thing, because it means that you have really good lung capacity.
S: Why, because I'm top-heavy?
R: No, no, no! It just means that you have a large rib cage.
S: Are you calling me fat?
R: No. Oh man. Okay, what it means is, I can tell that you used to be a competitive swimmer because you have a wide chest cavity.
S: You're digging yourself a hole here...
R: I promise it's a compliment.
S: Whatever.

So there was that time. But the compliment that takes the cake was dished out a few nights ago, which compelled me to write this post at all. We were laying in bed, ready to go to sleep...

S: I think I've lost all the baby fat. Can you tell?
R: Ya, for sure. (He reaches over to grab my stomach.) Wow, you really are skinny! If I could grab that much fat on my stomach, I would think I would only have to lose 20 pounds!!!
S: (Hesitation. Processing this unbelievable information...) What? Did you really just say that?
R: Okay, maybe that sounded bad...
S: Maybe?
R: What I meant was...well, I'm REALLY skinny right now, right?
S: Right...
R: Okay, and I still have to lose 10 pounds to be in racing shape. So for a normal person trying to look really good, it would be a compliment if they proportionely only weighed 10 pounds more than me.
S: Hm. That's awesome.
R: Nooooo. You didn't get the compliment. Okay, this is not about aesthetics, it's purely about distance running shape. Right now, I'm going for the emaciated look. So, you're only 10 pounds heavier than emaciated.
S: But you said I would have to lose 20 pounds...
R: No! I'm already emaciated, I'm going for the near-starvation look, and I still have to lose 10 pounds. So you are only 10 pounds away from emaciated. You do not want that. I DO NOT want you to look like that. I am not attracted to the World Class Female Marathon runner look.
S: Okay (I'm just really confused, and laughing really hard at this point.)
R: If you lost that much weight you would NOT look good, and you would be infertile. And I would be afraid to get my eyes poked out by you protruding clavicles.

Rivers proceeds to google search pictures of distance runners to prove his point. In the end, I understand what he was trying to say, but it took a while. What it comes down to is that the best compliment I could give him right now would be to say that he looked as though he had just come from spending 3 weeks lost in the desert with no food. Except...if Rivers was in the desert with no food he would probably find a way to feed himself. Let's try this... he was recruited a short time ago to star as a Bosnian refugee in a Upeace documentary (see below). So, in that respect, I guess he was giving me a really sweet compliment.

to ban or not to ban?

A pressing issue in Europe right now is whether France can consitutionally ban women from wearing the burqa in public. There seem to be two conflicting ideologies here: religious freedom versus women's liberation. While I try to distance myself from the man-hating/bra-burning/frowny-faced/armpit-jungled/perpetually single feminist, I am all for gender equality and social justice. That's why I was surprised to find myself adamantly defending the burqa when the issue arose in class a few weeks ago. As I raised my hand to contribute my opinion to the class discussion, I hesitated to do an introspective double-take..."Really, Steph? You're going to advocate a woman's "right" to cover her face; to be veiled from society; to be an object that needs to be hid? Are your hormones in check? Maybe they haven't 'bounced back' since having Harper. Come on, there must be SOMETHING wrong with you?!" Then I realized that my hormones have been, are, and always will be out of wack (poor Rivers), and what was actually occuring in my confused mind was that my religious convictions were overpowering my zeal for women's lib. Wait...no...gotta fight for...gender equality but...my hand is still raised and...can't coax it down...and oh no...gonna say something about...religious freedom and...being Mormon and...I truly believe it. Wow.

In essence, my defense of the burqa was on the lines of the undeniable right to freely express religion. Most every religion holds tokens/apparel that are deeply sacred and made to demonstrate devotion to deity. While I am aware that the Q'ran doesn't suggest that women should be veiled, the burqa is a cultural-religious interpretation of modesty. Many women who wear the burqa do so voluntarily, and with pride. They are expressing what they believe is their covenant with God to remain honorable and pure. Being a religious person, I understand the importance of tokens to express covenants with God. If I lived in a nation that denied my right to freely express my relationship with God, I would move. Plain and simple. I don't feel that religious expression should be discriminated solely because it is a visible expression rather than a latent/private one. The fact that Islamic tokens are overt, public and visible does not make them less important or more revokable than my own.

To the women who are forced to wear the veil, I believe they should ban together to fight for their right to express their individuality. My heart aches for those who are coerced into covering their faces from the world. Still, I don't feel that women who truly rejoice in the burqa should be denied their right to worship. There, I said it.

Meet the Puzeys

Usually having in-laws in town is a scary, intimidating and anxiety-ridden experience. Luckily, having Kim and Julie in Costa Rica for a week was like Christmas. And no, it wasn't only because they brought 2 suitcases chock-full of North American goodies (ie stroller, baby backpack, deodorant, almonds, peanut butter all our redirected mail (yay), Balderdash etc.) It wasn't even because Kim grew a huge white beard and wore a red velour jump suit on the airplane (he didn't really. Unfortunately, Kim is not a rolly-polly old man. Quite the contrary. In fact, Kim is a young, vibrant Puma who can complete 100 push-ups on command. What a stud. I bet he and my dad would have pushup contests all the time.) The real reason their visit felt like Christmas was because every morning they were here, I woke up excited and giddy about what the day might bring (not 'bring' as in the tasty dinners at Che's pizza/fridge full of groceries/new Venus razors..I mean 'bring' in the intangible sense.)

From sitting on the front porch couch discussing deep philosophy with Kim to getting solicited mothering tips from Julie, having my in-laws in town was the antithesis of what the movies portray. They even agreed to play Balderdash, which I've come to conclude is only a fun game if you're really tired or a Catudal. Even so, they were good sports and played an entire game with me. But the best part of their visit was that Harper was able to meet,love and spit-up on her Grammy and Gramps Puzey.

On a side note, Gramps Puzey was one of the reasons that me and Rivs got together in the first place. When I met Rivs I was working on my Senior paper, the culminating project before graduating from the International Cultural studies department. When I told Rivs that my paper was on Mormon Democrats (go figure), he immediately said "Oh, you should call my dad. He knows a lot of stuff about....well, everything." So, after about 3 weeks of knowing Rivers, I was already involved in deep academic conversations with his dad. If Rivs was anything like his papa, then he was a keeper fer sure. He really does know a lot of stuff about everything.

Yeah, Grammy and Gramps Puzey are all right in my books.

nothing ain't worth nothing if it ain't free

In light of the recent Iraqi elections, I am shocked by the West's sense of surprise over the ensuing political instability and brewing violence in the country.

Ayad Allawi won last week's election by a very small margin. Many are now alleging that his win was the result of fraud, and that Allawi is nothing more than an American puppet. In my view, he most probably is. American officials are calling the elections a success. Well DUH! What are they supposed to say..."The democratic system we've spent 7 years and trillions of dollars trying to implement is a complete and utter failure...?" So I beg the question: how truly "free" is freedom or "democratic" is democracy when the Occupying power has the ability to renege the authority of whoever is democratically voted into government?

To think that an extraneous force can successfully implement a new, foreign form of government in a nation whose culture was not contructed in the same manner as our own is, I believe, a symptom of "the White Man's burden". This condition is a diseased ideology which compels the 'enlightened' Westerner to believe he must liberate the 'savage' from the shackles of his primitive life (see Rudyard Kippling's poem "The White Man's Burden). While I strongly opposed Saddam Hussein's tyrannical regime, I certainly don't believe the answer was to ethnocentrically impose a new social structure on this already unstable country. History shows that the only sucessful revolutions occur from within, and to be surprised by the Iraqi insurgency against Occupying Forces is dillusional.

I guess the point I'm trying to make is that we shouldn't be shocked that some Iraqis are taking up arms against the Coalition forces. This is war, after all. And while I do not condone violence in any form (hello...I go to the University for PEACE), I think it's imperative to understand the underlying causes of protracted conflict. So, if an outside force didn't agree with Obama's Health Care reform and therefore saw it fit to invade the USA in order to liberate those who opposed his government and set up a new form of rule in its wake, do you not think that Americans would band together in order to fight for their freedom? Hmmmm...maybe something like this happened around 10 years ago...? Now I'm NOT comparing the US government to Saddamm Hussein's brutal rule or bin Laden's terrorist attacks. I'm just trying to draw a parallel between people's conflicting definitions of "freedom". After all, one person's terrorist is another person's freedom fighter.

Go watch the film "Battle For Hadditha" to get a good sense of what I'm talking about. But I'm warning you...it's rated R. Duh-duh-duuuuuuuh.

let me explain...

I've received quite a few emails regarding my ideas on Health Care reform being a Christian ideal. I guess I should explain myself...

To me it comes down to the way morality is framed. Modern political discourse would have us believe that the only 'moral' issues in the current political debate are abortion laws and gay rights, thus relegating Republicanism as the 'moral party'. Here is where polarity comes into play again; if Republican is the moral party, Democrat must be....well...not that. But isn't caring for the poor a moral duty as well? Not to say that Republicans aren't charitable, because I've met one or two that are (joke...badoom-che. That was the 'laugh now' drum.) It's not that I think that conservatives are 'moneywhores' (Thanks embot. Good one.) I just see health care reform as government institutionalized charity, and I think that both Republican and Democrat should share the title of 'Moral Party'. Here's why:

Paying higher taxes in order to help our 'neighbors' when they are in need...Isn't that essentially what every Holy Book urges us to do? Isn't one of the greatest sins to cling to wealth and let the poor perish? Some may say that taxes and charity do not equate, as charity requires agency and taxation does not allow for it. While this is true, it is an unfortunate fact that charity has failed to care for the millions of Americans who are left sick and dying without means to pay their exorbitent medical bills. Therefore, it becomes our moral duty to patch the void that should have been filled by unconditional charity. While having government implement a sort of 'forced charity' is not ideal, it seems to be the only way to ensure that every American can enjoy the right to live a healthy life.

And now for my 'Go Canada' plug: growing up in a middle class household, both my father and little brother had long-term cancer. The excellent care they received would have costs hundreds of thousands of dollars if we had been living in America without (or even in some cases with) insurance. Instead, the bills we received were marked with a big, fat 0$. Actually, I don't think we even received a bill. Just a swift swipe of the MediCare card and we were good to go (besides the fact that my dad died and my little brother spent 3 years of his childhood in a hospital). But now, instead of working two jobs to pay off her late husband's medical bills, my mother works one part-time job and is still able to visit her family that is spread across the globe while eating fine dark chocolate. This is not a conceivable reality for so many widowed women in America. Yeah, go Canada.

Furthermore, the disparity between rich and poor in America has reached unacceptable proportions. While the nation clearly has enough resources to care for every single citizen (yes, despite the economic crisis. Have you watched MTV Cribs lately?), there are still millions of people left uncared for. Whether this is the result of their own irresponsability or just pure misfortune, I feel it is our moral obligation to not leave them by the wayside. As for the middle class and where they stand, Obama is issuing "the biggest middle class tax cut for health care in history" (www.whitehouse.gov/Issues/health-care). I think that sounds pretty good. And even if he wasn't, I think we have to re-evaluate and recognize the relativity of the term 'middle class'. American middle class is to the other 5.7 billion people in the world as Donald Trump is to us. I'm pretty sure that if you own a car, you're doing pretty well, in the grand scheme of things. This is not to say that I am not privy to the luxury trappings of the West. I currently have my eye on a sweet 2nd hand Subaru Forrester for when I return to Hawaii. Living in Costa Rica without the comforts of transportation, air conditioning, hot running water, bath tubs, paved roads, sidewalks, cell phones, toilets capable of flushing toilet paper, and 99cent double cheeseburgers has really made me appreciate the things I used to take for granted.) Am I sounding preachy? Yes. Self righteous? Yes. Am I just choosing the gospel principals that fit into my argument? Yes. But isn't that what we all do in some way?

Air Conditioning: a luxury we're kind of learning to live without

What do you do when it's 110 degrees outside, you have no air conditioning, and your baby has a fever? Hop in the air-conditioned car lent to you by a friend, drive to the air-conditioned Hyper-Mas (Costa Rica's version of Wal Mart) and walk around all day getting free taste testers from the various air-conditioned food departments. I loved it, Rivers loved it, and most of all, Harper was cool and content being strolled around in the air-conditioned store. We left the place full and satisfied, and even bought our very own baby pool to bring the air-conditioned feel to our un-air-conditioned home. Did I mention we miss air conditioning?

P.S. The fever isn't anything to worry about. Just side effects from her 4 month vaccinations.

Research Update

To all my wonderfully appreciated volunteers:

So far there are 50 of you. That means we're half way to the magic 100 needed for this research to be approved by my thesis advisor. I haven't posted the survey yet because I'm waiting to reach 100 people before putting it up. If you know of anyone who may be interested, or anyone who may not be interested but owes you a big favor, just tell them about my project. YES WE CAN! (haha...just thought I'd throw that in there for a little Democrat humor.)

On that note, I'd like to make an official disclaimer so that you are well aware of my biases. I am a Mormon Democrat. Yes, they exists. We are a rare breed on the verge of extinction, but alive nonetheless. That being said, some of my political opinions will probably be contrary to many of your personal political beliefs. Please know that these are just my opinions, not to be taken personally. What will make this research rich and meaningful is to have healthy dialogue on political issues. Please don't be afraid to post your comments, especially if you disagree with my viewpoint on a given issue. Really. Nothing will be taken personally, promise. And if you're worried about offending me (which you won't), you can always comment anonymously.

Thanks again, everyone...

the pear monster

Harper loves eating real food. See for yourself.

Oh-and also...As I was waiting for this video to upload, I emerged from my room to see why Harper was squeeling with joy. I found her sitting next to Rivers as he played his homemade Djembe drum made from an empty bucket while watching cheesy Latino music videos. I had to laugh out loud.

the world is just a dead thing you can claim

I was about ready to hunker down and start blah-blah-blah-ing my opinion on the newly-passed Health Reform bill when the not-so-sweet sound of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's voice penetrated the quiet of my sleeping house via CNN. Come on, Netanyahu...I mean, really? Resolving to build 1,600 homes in the illegally acquired Palestinian territory of East Jerusalem is not what I would call a precursor to peace talks. And our friend the diplomat didn't want to discuss politics or history when speaking to our class about "terrorism"...I think it's blatant that politics and history are the cause of these acts of terror/insurgency. In fact, Netanyahu's justification for illegal eviction and construction in East Jerusalem is purely historical: "The Jewish people were building Jerusalem 3,000 years ago and the Jewish people are building Jerusalem today". Okay, so what if the British (sorry Mum) sailed on back to the US of A demanding their land back? "Good day, chaps. Remember when we fought that war back in the 1700's and you won? Well, we're here to say nuh-uh. We want the land back now, and if you disagree, we'll just take it anyways. Okay, so think about it and let us know. We'll be right here with our tanks and bombers if you need us..." And then the Native Americans would come on the scene to confront the British: "Um...yeah. You might think you own whatever land you land on, but actually, we were here first. And your little 'War on Terror'? Well, we've been 'fighting terrorism since 1492'*. So, hand over the land and you guys can live on the reservations. Mkay?" While they would have every right to do so, as Isreal should have the right to claim some of their land, they could not rape, pillage and destroy their 'enemy's' culture all in the name of God. If history is justification for oppression and denigration in order to regain once-owned territory, I'm pretty sure Rome would have dibbs on about 90% of current day Europe...And besides, it's not necessarily the act of taking land that doesn't belong to you, it's more about how you treat the people you are ejecting. Refugee camps, unlawful evictions, bulldozing houses and security checkpoints are not effective ways to building peaceful relations. Actually, it's a great way to fuel hatred, resistance and violence.

Rivers and I recently watched the film "The Road", an adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's prize-winning novel. While it was a harrowing, depressing and heart-wrentching tale, the underlying theme sang to me in harmony (in a morbid sense) with the current Israeli-Palestinian conflict: when stripped of basic human needs, people will resort to any means necessary in order to regain what (they believe) is rightfully theirs. As I see it, violence is a response to unfortunate, oppressive circumstances. I'm not saying it's a valid response, but it is a response nonetheless; not just an irrational, fanatical offensive as the mainstream media would have us believe.

*I didn't make that quote up. I saw it on a T-Shirt in Montana. I can't claim its brilliance.

killer beatle

Harper had a pretty eventful Sunday. It started out like any other Sabbath day: 6am wake-up, walk in the stroller, nap, rush to get to church on time(ish. Or not really.), 10 minutes of crying due to fatigue (Harper, not me. I only feel like crying due to fatigue, however one is not afforded the luxury of public breakdowns when trying to maintain the facade of sanity and capable motherhood), me trying to get her to sleep, me getting frustrated and handing her off to Rivers, and finally, meeting Rivers out the back of church for a baby hand-off so he can go to his meeting. Oh-and I mustn't forget the unshaven legs (who has time to shave?), poor dress choice considering the wind, and announcing 3 times that "I'm going home if she doesn't fall asleep soon." Yup, it was shaping-up to be a typical Sunday.

THEN, soonafter handing me the now-sleeping Harper, Rivers looked down to find a GIANT beetle hanging out in the grass. Of course any other person would have pointed out the creature either excitedly or in disgust, then went on his/her way. Not Rivers. Nope, he picked that land manatee right up and decided that it should be placed on sleeping Harper's little foot to give some proportion for a photo opp. I vehemently opposed the suggestion after I saw the mammoth's spiny legs dig into Rivers' fingers. After assuring me that "it doesn't hurt, they're just little feet", I felt that I had no choice but to agree. He seemed pretty set on the idea. The only stipulation was that if Harper woke up, he had to get her back to sleep. Fair enough. So, Rivers guided the thing onto her foot and we both watched helplessly as it quickly dug its' feet into her skin (not really dug, more like 'grabbed ahold of tightly'). She stirred, but didn't wake up. Phew. Rivers quickly snapped a picture and, upon my frantic insistance, began to remove the creature from her foot. This didn't go as smoothly as he had hoped. Actually, the beetle's feet were like little hooks that basically rooted into whatever they happened to be standing on. In this case, it was our lil' babe's foot. So, I'm screaming at Rivers to "GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF", Harper wakes up and starts crying which makes me burst into tears and Rivers is desperately trying to remove the beetle's feet from our baby's feet, and finally succeeds in removing the beast. And all of this behind a church. Anyways, tears are streaming down my face while Rivers is appologizing thoroughly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that would happen...!" he said. "Well what did you think would happen when you put the gargantuan beetle on our baby's foot?!" I responded with more anger than the situation merited. After Rivers' had insisted, "you gotta admit that was a pretty cool picture" and Harper had fallen back asleep (actually, she hadn't really ever woken up), I began to see that humor in the situation and asked my dearly adventurous husband if he would wipe the tears from my face in case anyone found us in our church hideout (also not good for the sanity facade). "No, they look cool," he said. "Like black stalagtites." Great, so now my mascara was running too. Eventually, after much pleading, more crying and lots of laughing, Rivers wiped my face and went back to his meeting. Harper slept for the rest of church.

After church we were invited to a family's house for dinner. Being a CocaCola addict, I was extensively excited to see two 3-litre bottles set out on the table. My kind of place. The best part, though, was Harper's enthusiasm over Coke. She couldn't get enough of the stuff. Okay, we didn't actually give her any of the sweet elixer of life, but we did watch as she tried her hardest to suck whatever she could from the outside of the bottle. Maybe she's really into osmosis. At any rate, I'm really glad to see that Harper is shaping up to be just like mommy.

Bamboo Love (AKA pickle boy part III)

While at the time I was sure that I had Rivers in the palm of my hand, I eventually learned that he wasn't really trying to win me over at all. In fact, the last thing Rivers was looking for was a relationship. I was unaware at the time, but he had just spent the past year in a tumultuous relationship that had left him emotionally drained. Although he "liked" me (alot), he wasn't sure if he was ready to start another serious relationship. Cooking curry, singing songs, sharing food...Well, those are just the types of things Rivers does for everyone because he is just so unabashedly friendly and kind. To me it was a cruel trick. Needless to say, this made the road to our actual "dating" very long and confusing. I was sure that we were, like, totally girlfriend-boyfriend, when he was probably just wondering why I kept trying to hold his hand and send him suggestive texts (No, sicko. Not that kind of suggestive. Suggestive in the "Haha wasn't-insert new inside joke here-so funny? What are you up to tomorrow?" sense.) In fact, on Halloween night a friend had asked me if I was "dating Rivers", and the only response I could conjure was: "I don't know", to which she responded "Ya, no one ever knows if they're dating Rivers." What in the Molly Mormon Heck was that supposed to mean? As I would come to learn, Rivers talks to people. He asks them questions about their lives like he actually cares (because he does). He looks them in the eyes. Some of these people happen to be hopeful girls, which has proven to be a potentially confusing combination. Finally, after about a month of being together every spare moment, Rivers finally asked me to be his girlfriend. (Note: I've been trying for a pretty while to think of a less juvenile way of saying the aforementioned, but those were his exact words. Sorry.) We were sitting in a classroom observing a "Senior Seminar" presentation at school, and I was demonstrably at my witts end with our ongoing, intense "friendship". In fact, I was ready to call it quits, although I didn't really know how to "break-up" with Rivers when we were just friends. I'm pretty sure that would have made me look even more desperate and strange. Luckily, during the presentation Rivers leaned over and and told me how he felt while explaining the previous rocky year. It was about time...

why can't we be friends?

As the US House of Representatives convenes to vote on the new Health Care Bill this weekend, I am overwhelmed by the ardent opposition to this seemingly logical, ideal and Christian policy. Wait a second-aren't the Republicans supposed to be the good Christians, and the Democrats the godless, heathen hippies? What ever happened to those stylin' WWJD bracelets, because they'd sure come in handy right now...And what about the archetypal story of the Good Sumaritan? In my opinion, Health Care reform is the modern day parallel of this parable and I see no way around it. Sorry.

The Problem as I see it is that people are getting too caught up in extraneous and unrelated issues, such as abortion and gay marriage laws. But let's face it: just because you support a fiscal Democrat policy doesn't mean that you have to turn-in Dumbo for Eeyore. This leads me to the root of The Problem: polarization. We've (althought I can't legally vote in the USA, I am still including myself in the "we-ness". Not to be confused with "wenis", the wrinkly, feelingless skin covering the elbow. Go ahead, bite it. Or I guess you'd have to get someone to bite it for you.) I've digressed. Let me start over...We've become so consumed with differentiating between Republican and Democrat that even a nod of the head in agreement with a policy of an opposing party is seen as betrayal. This has narrowed the scope of possibilities available to the American people, as this political division has led people to believe that politics is a zero-sum game; if your party wins, mine loses. And that's not the way it should be. I say that The People should be able to pick and choose the policies and bills that speak to their personal character, regardless if the bill was proposed by a (D) or an (R). I believe this would lead to a more united, productive United States of America. But what do I know? I'm just an alien resident from America's hat.

The Opportunity of a Lifetime! (not really, but isn't it an appealing title?)

To all of my loyal, not-so-loyal, and somewhat disinterested followers:

I need your help. I am hoping to write my Masters Thesis on the social impact of blogs, mine in particular. I am looking to find whether political interest blogs can have an effect on personal opinion and if so, to what extent. I will continue blogging about my personal life, but will implement various political opinion pieces along the way, as I have been doing on occassion. The point is not to subliminally sneak my political ideology into your lives, but to use my blog as a forum to express my daily thoughts, because I'll be honest: I think about politics daily. Basically, my blog will continue to consist of my family events, thoughts and views with an editorial-style twist.

So, I'll get to the point: I am asking whether you would like to take part in my Thesis study. All you would have to do is fill out an anonimous survey, follow my blog somewhat regularly (once a week-ish), and then fill out another survey in a few months. The survey will consist of demographic/personal/political questions, but I assure you that it will be completely anonimous, if you so choose. In order for my research to be statistically significant, I need 100 participants. This may be a lofty goal, but if you want to help me, just spread the word! I promise I'll try to keep the political pieces interesting and humorous.

So, if you are interested in helping to further research on New Media, leave a comment on my blog or email me at stephcatudal@gmail.com

Thanks for reading!

pickle boy part II

Oh the fateful Fall of 2006...I had just come to the gradual realization that Mr.Mercedes was definitely not the man for me as I entered my graduating semester at BYU-Hawaii. I had a few class options for my last months of school, and decided to enroll in an Anthropology class. As I walked into class on the first day, I was surprised (and okay, I'll admit it-excited) to see Tommy Rivers sitting in class wearing a Boy Scout hat with a huge smile on his face. Being the introverted, ackward girl that I am, I made a definitive point to sit on the complete opposite side of the room and avoid all eye contact with this coveted man. (Okay, fine. I sneaked some peaks throughout class. But only when I was sure he wasn't watching...)
Only a few days had passed before I walked into the classroom to find Rivers sitting in the seat next to the one I had been occupying. Great. Way to ruin my plan of non conspicuity. Now I had to talk to him, and ran the risk of falling in love with him as every other girl had... I knew I was truly done for when the first thing Rivs did was reach into his backpack, pull out a tupperware container, and offer me pretzels and hummus. Then the next class he offered me Raisinettes. Wow. He was smoothe. That same class period he started to write strange messages in his notebook like "did you know that Raisinettes is a French word?" "No it isn't", I replied (Oh I thought I was playing it so cool). He must have forgotten our sole previous discussion on my Frenchness. Anyways, this triggered a trilingual note-writing frenzy, as we wrote back and forth in French, Spanish and English. Somehow, the topic of sandwhiches eventually came up, and I told him how much I loved pickles. The next day after class, Rivers approached me with a serious demeanor.

Rivers: I know this is kind of weird since you don't really know me, but I brought you a gift.
Steph: (trying to hide my excitement) Oh, cool. Thanks...
Rivers: Ok. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.
Steph: Okay...? (I feel something cool, cylindrical and plastic-y in my hands. A sea cucumber? When I open my eyes, I find that I am holding a pickle in a ziplock bag. I immediatey start laughing.) Do you mind if I eat it now?
Rivers: Go ahead...

So, that pushed me over the edge of skepticism to full-out, hardcore "like". Once I had overtly accepted that I was crushing on this T.Rivs guy, I worked up the courage to tell my new roommate...

Steph: Hey B, guess what? I have a crush on someone at school...
B: Really!? Who is it?
Steph: Ummm...I have a crush on Rivers.
B: Pft. Who doesn't?
Steph: Yeah, but he brought me food to class! And he writes me little notes!
B: Yeah, he does that with every girl.
Steph: Oh. (Can you say buzz-kill? Well, it turns out that Rivs really does share his food and his thoughts with lots of people. Not because he's a flirt, but because he's just a friendly guy. This little character attribute explains his previous "conceited" reputation...)

Luckily, after a few weeks, our professor had us seperate into groups to do an Ethnography on a topic of our choosing. Being the sneaky Casanova that he is, Rivs casually mentioned that he was really interested in tattoos and thought it would be fun to study tattoo culture. (Falling). Tattoos? Really? Was this guy for real? Yeah, I was on board. Our group started with 4 members, but somehow over the course of a couple days was strangely wittled down to two; yup-me and Rivers. How convenient. So, we were to spend 15 hours studying tattoos together, alone, over the course of 3 months. Basically we were consigned to fall in love. On our first Ethnography session, I went to pick Rivs up from his house. He said he would just be a few minutes, and invited me in. He just happened to be cooking Thai Green Curry and offered me some. (Falling.) Then, before we headed out the door he asked if he could play me a song on his guitar. (Falling). He then proceeded to sing "Isabelle" by Mason Jennings, my favorite artist at the time (In love). Come on. Did I even have a chance? Ultimately, I credit tattoos, pickles, curry and Mason Jennings for bringing us together.

TO BE CONTINUED with tales of our rocky courtship

pickle boy part I

"Another post? 2 in one day? What have we, the people, done to deserve this?" Interpret this as you will (1/2 empty or 1/2 full?), but I assume this is what many of you are thinking. Well, I am officially on Spring Break and have 3 weeks to write, write, write! Actually, I have 3 weeks to finish, finish, finish 2 large papers and one newspaper media monitoring project, which further explains my new-found zeal to blog at an alarming rate.
Hold on-interjection in "real time". Rivers just emerged from the bedroom after being asleep for an hour. Squinting his eyes as they adjusted to the bright kitchen lights he said, "sorry, I'm just really hungry" and proceeded to the fridge to grab one single cookie and then headed back to bed. This gives me even more reason to write my intended post: how I met and fell in love with Rivers. I'm assuming that I'll have this blog converted to a book (a personal, scrab-book kinda book. I'm not getting ahead of myself here...) which I hope Harper will read and enjoy when she is old enough. As a result, I want to write her mama and papa's love story so she can know for herself just how lame and strange her parents really are.

* * * *

I first heard about the legendary "Tommy Rivers" from one of my BYU-Hawaii roommates in the Winter of 2006. Sitting around our living room in a great Mormon girl-talk session ("oh my fetching heck!! Did you hear that ____ held hands with ____ and they're not even dating?!) MW asked whether I had had the priviledge of setting eyes upon this beautiful creature. I thought I had, but wasn't sure. See, I was in a class with his older brother Jake, but was yet unsure how to tell them apart. Anyways, MW proceeded to inform me that "Tommy just got off his mission and he thinks all the girls are in love with him". This later proved to be far from factual and just something assumed by girls love-struck over this handsome newcomer, but, being an independent, savvy 19 year old girl, I made a pact with MW to never again acknowledge this narcissitic T. Rivs. Time went on and I never ran into him, leaving me little opportunity to avoid him at all...

Then I began working alongside Jake Puzey for the International Cultural Studies department as a "student researcher" (photocopies, anyone?). Jake was married at the time, but must have thought I was somewhat cool as he suggested that I date his younger brother, Tommy Rivs. "Oh-you mean the conceited guy just off his mission? Thanks but no thanks, man. Plus, I'm dating a guy who drives a Mercedes..."

As fate would have it (literally), in the Spring of 2006 I moved into a house with 3 girls who were each equally and completely obsessed with this Tommy Rivers character. Ironically, I even gave one girl kaniving tips on how to get him to notice her. ("Play it cool. Gently touch his arm when he's talking to you. Act disinterested. Can you do a cartwheel? Good. Just do one in front of him. That should do the trick.") Ya, I was still dating Mr. Mercedes and thought I was too cool for school, and consequently, Tommy Rivers. I even started working with his little sister Anna, although due to a case of social anxiety on my part, our relationship at the time consisted of "Hey...I'm almost done with the computer so...."/"Ya, cool. I'll just be playing phone Tetris until you're done...." So up until this point, Rivers was an enigma, a mere shell of a man that had been so poorly represented by my peers, and I had believed all of the misrepresentations without ever uttering a word to him.

The first time I ever talked to Mr. McPopular was accompanied by one of my roomies, the one I was giving love advice to. Rivers worked in the Media Services lab in the library, and DW and I had to rent a movie to watch for class. In a twitterpated fluster that went something like: "Oh my gosh! There he is! K, come with me. Wait-you just go. What should I say? Ok, you just speak. How do I look. Eeeeee", and in this fashion, DW proceeded to meltdown. Being the love coach that I was (ha), I cooly waltzed up to the media counter. "Hey, man. Can we, like, rent a movie or what?" I asked with nonchalance. "Hey DW, how's it going?", Rivers said with sincerity and a kind smile on his face. Had I been wrong about this guy? DW then proceeded to introduce me to The Legend, and we had a brief conversation about French and Michael Moore. DW and I left and watched our movie in a cubicle. When Rivers was done with his shift, he came by our corner to ask how the movie was, and told us to have a good night. "Okay, DW, you were right. He is hot. And I think he's totally into you! Why else would he come say bye?!" I said encouragingly. And I didn't see him again until Fall of 2006...

TO BE CONTINUED.

alternatives

To subdue the guilt I feel over no longer breastfeeding Harper, I let her suck on other body parts and hope that this counts as a bonding mechanism. Her favorite alternative nipple is my cheek and my chin.

Also-check out Harp's new kicks! Well, they're actually hand-me-downs from Chloe, but Harper doesn't have to know that...

dear "solids": I love you. Love, Harper

Yesterday we started feeding Harper "solid" food. We gave her mushed bananas for breakfast, nectarines and plantanes for lunch (Rivers' concoction, which proved to be Harper's fave so far), and rice cereal for dinner. This morning she had rice cereal for breakfast and mango for lunch. Then I found out that you're supposed to introduce different foods slowly so that the baby's system has time to adjust. Woops. Whatever. Harper is so into eating "solids" (I insist on putting solids in quotations because to me, viscous fruit puree is hardly solid) and I think she appreciates the variety.

When we first introduced the spoon to her mouth, she tried to suck the food as though it were milk. But after a few messy spoonfuls, she got the hang of it and became a pro. Now she grabs our hands and tries to force the spoon into her mouth as though she can't get enough of this whole new world of mushy fruits and grains. I have to admit that I tried each of her meals, and they're pretty tasty. I guess the only downside to Harper's whole new world is that her poop has lost that cute, fresh baby smell. Today, not long after feeding Harp her mangoes, I asked Rivers if he was hard-boiling eggs. Although this would be highly unlikely since Rivers hates hard-boiled eggs, I love them and thought that maybe he was treating me to some huevos. Nope. Turns out it was just Harper's new smelly diaper. Something to look forward to...

P.S The pic of Harper surrounded by a pillow fortress and covered with a net is her personally-tailored protection against dengue fever.

the rat

I woke Rivers up at 3am this morning to check out what/who was splashing water around in the bathroom. At first I was sure it was a burglar, but once the haze of early-morning waking wore off, I realized that it was highly unlikely that someone had broken into our house to play with the water in our toilet. And if someone had been inclined to do such a thing, we probably would have no reason to fear him/her.

Rivers: Will you come with me?
Steph: No, I'm too scared. I got your back, though.
Rivers: Okay fine. (Gets out of bed and bravely peeks into the bathroom).
Rivers: Steph, come here!

My heart pounding, I get out of bed and creep into the bathroom to find a grey rat frantically trying to jump out of the toilet.

Rivers: What are we supposed to do?
Steph: I don't know!
Rivers: Should we flush him down?
Steph: No!! Are you serious? (memories of my beloved pet rats from high school were flashing through my head.) Anyways, he probably wouldn't even fit down the hole. Hold on, I'll go get something...

Inspired by my dad who caught a flying squirrel with ovens mitts and a pot when I was in 5th grade, I return to the bathroom with a saucepan.

Rivers: No. Uh-uh. We are NOT using that.
Steph: Why not? That's what my dad did.
Rivers: Do you know how many diseases rats carry?

I shrug my shoulders. I don't see the big deal. Rivers goes to get a big dustpan from the kitchen, but just as he returns, the rat successfully jumps out of the toilet. I have to admit, I was silently cheering for the little guy. Still, we both chased after him with our rat-catching paraphanelia but alas, he was too quick and escaped into the dark abyss underneath the fridge. Rivers grabbed some sort of large stick and started sweeping underneath it to try and force the creature out. I instinctively grabbed a larger boiling pot.

Rivers: No! We're not gonna use that!
Steph: Why not? I'll just put it on top of him when he runs out. It won't even touch him.
Rivers: No, Steph. Rats carry trichtenosis.
Steph: Okay, fine. I'll use this empty formula can. But just so you know, I'll have less of a chance of catching him.

After a few minutes of unsuccessful sweeping, Rivers gave me a defeated look.

Rivers: Where did he go?
Steph: Maybe there's a hole and he crawled up it.
Rivers: A hole in the fridge?
Steph: Hmm. Good point...I can make a trail of cheese leading outside...?
Rivers: But I like cheese.
Steph: I'll just use a little bit. It always worked for my hamsters.
Rivers: Okay, just little pieces though. And don't use the good cheese!

In the end we agreed to leave a trail of parmesan cheese leading from the fridge out to the backyard. We felt good about it and went back to bed.

(Lying in bed)

Rivers: Wild rats are really dangerous, you know.
Steph: I know. That's why Lady got kicked out of her house...because she didn't catch the rat that was headed for the baby's room. (Lady and the Tramp)
Rivers: Exactly.

As I woke up this morning, it occured to me that "a trail of parmesan cheese leading out" was subjective, and to any wild animal outside, it would look like a tasty, cheesy trail leading into a warm house. Oh well, can't win 'em all...

alice and 4 month checkup

Tonight Rivers and I went on our first post-baby date. Yeah, I know...It's a little late. But considering that it's only been 3 days since I've mustered the courage to move Harper's crib into her own room (so far, far away), I'm thinking it's not so ridiculous. We went to see Alice in Wonderland in 3-D, which was mediocre, and Jonny Depp wasn't hot, and the whole time I kept weighing the pros and cons of quickly leaving the theatre to get a Quizno's Turkey-Bacon "Bullet". Would I miss too much? Was there anything to miss? What if I missed the Cheshire cat popping out into the audience in all his 3-D glory like the previews had promised? What if the Mad Hatter ate some cake that magically turned him into the hot Johnny Depp that I know and love? All these questions were obviously much too pressing and, needless to say I came home hungry. Harper behaved well, and our babysitters were awesome. Everything went perfectly, but as I was brushing my teeth before bed, a sharp, sad pang pierced me like a vorpal sword: my shirt was clean. No vomit. No poop. No pee. No milk. And in that moment, I kinda felt less like a mom.

HARPER'S 4 MONTH CHECKUP UPDATE (I have to do this since I'm not keeping a baby book)

Weight: 15lbs 8 Oz

Head: 16.5 In (Is this some sort of Darwinish biological determinist junk? Do they still think that the bigger the head, the bigger the brain? If that's the case, go Ben Gurion)

Ready for solids: Yup

P.S This is Ben Gurion. See what I mean?

It seems as though Harper has really grown up in the past week or so. She just recently discovered the potential of her vocal chords and uses them to max, shrieking in delight (or anger) all day long. She also started doing this weird gurgly growl thing that keeps her (and us) entertained. Her feet are almost making it into her mouth, and sometimes some McDonald's ice cream makes its way in there too. Is that bad? She doesn't think so. We put her in her walker the other day and propped her up with a neck pillow. She seemed to like it, so I decided to see how she'd fare without the cushioned assistance. Big mistake. When Rivers came in the room, he saw the disaster waiting to happen... "She's gonna face plant any second" he stated, to which I confidently replied "Ah, she's fine", which was swiftly followed by- yup -a face plant. Her forehead came down so hard on the walker's plastic steering wheel that I was sure she was going to have a brain anurism, or a concussion at least. She didn't, but did cry the loudest, most desperate cry I'd ever heard escape her mouth. Oops.

peace in the middle east! not.

Foreward: this post has absolutely nothing to do with Harper, Rivers, or any family at all. This is one of those analytical venting sessions, so if you're disinterested in politics of the Middle East, you are excused.
If it wasn't made clear in my previous post, this Media, Terrorism and Insurgency class has been emotionally draining, to say the least. Exciting, but draining.
Yesterday our class was priviledged to speak on the phone with Ibrahim Mousawi, head of media relations for the Hizbollah in South Lebanon. I have to admit that I was a bit nervous to converse with a member of a USA-determined "terrorist" group. I know, I know...I shouldn't buy into this whole "terrorist scare" scheme concocted by the US government. According to American standards, I might even qualify for the terrorist watch list just for writing this blog. (Dear Uncle Sam: Ha Ha! Isn't this blog funny? It's all one big fat joke and I don't mean anything I say. But, just in case you don't catch my uproarious humor, I reserve the right to an attorney. Thank you. P.S-how do I look? Yeah, that's right. I know you're always watching.) Back to the point: Ibrahim couldn't have been farther away from the man I thought he might be. He was jovial, lighthearted and honest. He answered all of our questions candidly and with impressive clarity of mind amidst the obviously daunting reality he is faced with; Israeli expansion, political sectarianism in his own country, hundreds of thousand of Palestinian refugees with inadequate facilities to care for them, not to mention the fact that Big Brother is breathing down his neck at every turn (Don't worry Ibrahim. I might have the same ugly problem as you after I press "Publish Post".) He made it perfectly clear that Hizbollah's qualm with Israel is completely political, and he expressed hope that one day Jews, Muslims and Christians could live side by side as they have done for centuries. Still, he asserted that this couldn't be possible until justice had been met. I'm skeptical that this will ever happen. Sorry, University for Peace. At the end of his interview, Ibrahim even thanked us for listening to his "blah, blah, blah" as he so humbly put it, and invited us all to South Lebanon to stay with the Hizbollah for a time. ( Don't worry, The Man. Not even thinkin' about it.)
As if talking with Ibrahim wasn't exciting enough, today we were graced with the presence of the Israeli Ambassador to Costa Rica, Eihud Eitam. This one did not go so smoothly. As soon as the poor man walked into the room, I knew he was done-for. My first instinct was to run to him and gently whisper "Run. Run away, and never return" into his ear in a British accent. (Because let's face it, it's difficult not to comply with anything said in a British accent.) I didn't do this. Instead, I sat idly as student after student grilled him with incriminating questions about the "Israeli ethnic cleansing of Palestine". While I disagreed with most of what Ehud said, I was even more dissapointed with my classmates and uninvited guests present at the Q&A session, who were relentless in their interrogation about Israel's crimes against humanity. In response, Eihud acted like a true diplomat and evaded the most pressing questions by saying that "we are talking about terrorism, not politics or history". While I didn't want to contribute to this man's metaphorical slaughter, I was compelled to ask how terrorism (or insurgency) could ever be separated from history and politics. As I meekly raised my hand and waited to be called upon, I began to realize that this man had no clue. He truly believes that Israel is an innocent state merely responding to acts of terrorism commited by Palestinians. While I in no way condone the killing of innocent civilians, I can understand the reasons why some feel that becoming a martyr is the only way get their message across: give us back our land. But how can this message be received as anything but meaningless, fanatical murder if those on the receiving end fail to believe that they are in posession of someone else's land at all?

drool is cool

Here's a little trick I taught Harper. She just recently discovered this talent, as well as her new-found ability to make high pitched screams that can change tone depending on how she moves her mouth. It's pretty hilarious.

social constructionism (a boring one, but it's all I've got)

t's been a while since I've actually written a post. I just started a new class - Media, Terrorism and Insurgency- which has proven to be quite demanding. Also, Harper has decided that her new wake-up time is 4am. These two factors have rendered my brain capacities obsolete. Still, I feel like I have to write something so that you don't think I've abandoned you, my dear family, friends and stalkers. (Yes, I'd like to think my blog is compelling enough to warrant stalkers. It is, right?)
Because my mind is in ultra-academic mode right now, I'm finding it difficult to write about anything other than boring acadmic theories, so bear with me. In our class right now we are discussing and debating the nature of social events and whether they have inherent meaning, or if their meaning is solely derrived from the meaning that we (or the media) ascribe them. Thinking about social constructionism and reality always sends me into a wallowing bout of existential despair because it denotes that everything is relative. While I do think that most of the "truths" we hold to be absolute are socially constructed, I would like to believe that there are eternal, absolute truths (Duh. Of course i believe this. What kind of Mormon would I be if I didn't? But sometimes I can lose myself in academia and separate myself from my religious mind. Yes, that was a plug to ensure you all of my testimony despite this spiritual-less ramble. Believe it.) Anyways...I was thinking about the validity of events devoid of social meaning when it struck me: would the event of Harper's birth be any less important/cataclysmic/life-altering/beautiful/miraculous if society (media) hadn't ascribed it meaning? That's when I realized that, if nothing else, birth is an event that in and of itself holds inherent meaning which is pertinent regardless of culture, religion or ideology. The meaning of birth never has to be explained, studied, speculated, broadcast or debated. It just is what it is.


Existential crisis over (for now).

you know you're fat when...