"Get up! Get out! Leave everything!"

I think I might be shouting that command in my sleep tonight! Or, "Grab ankles! Heads down! Stay low!" You know, just saving poor plane crash survivors in my sleep. So this is me at my flight attendant training. I would've done an update last week, but not only was I dog tired, but it was also one of the s l o w e s t weeks ever. Ten hours a day of FAA and airline rules and regulations... where to stow a dog or a wheelchair, what paperwork to fill out if a seat is broken, and the proper ergonomics to lift items into the overhead bins. It was kind of interesting--like one or two things an hour, followed by another 55 minutes of more buh-orrrring! However, it was all very important so I had to stay alert and cheerful. It helps that we have some super cool and upbeat instructors that know how to make talking about the parts of an airport exciting. (Yes, that was the parts of an airport in addition to the parts of an airplane.)

This week, on the other hand, has been uber fun. We are now in airplane mock-ups learning about all of the emergency equipment and procedures. We got to exit a smoke-filled plane (disco smoke for practice) and go down those bouncy-house type blow-up slides. ("Jump and slide! One at a time! Arms straight ahead!") You go down waaay fast. Fun! I had no idea that I would be trained as a nurse, a fire fighter, a drill sergeant and a very obedient passenger all in one week. Super cool. And to think that some people view flight attendants as empty-headed princesses who hand out pretzels. That's just our alter-ego. Really, you have to be tough, PC, and yet completely sweet and patient with everyone, while still keeping in mind how you will be fearless, brave, precise, and technical while trying to save them in the event of an emergency. I told my niece that today and she said, "That's coooool," with the utmost admiration of a seven-year-old. My five-year-old niece now wants to be "a flight" when she grows up. My two-year-old nephew--well, he was just all about his ride on a "moto-icle" today and said he was in an airplane, too. (I think he just meant he got to ride on one of those once.) So a shout out to my little cuties who I am missing like crazy. I would give anything for one of Brittie's sweet little smiles and Brookie's cuddly hugs. And to see Austin's cute little expressions when he talks. I also miss chatting with my sis all day, but I'm pretty sure she is glad for one less distraction (though I never preceded my ramblings with, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.) I even miss my crazy brothers. Charlie is driving a new motorcycle from Denver to SLC today. He said he is freezing. (Duh?!? But I luv you, kid.) Yes, this is the brother who broke his neck last Christmas Eve and was cliff jumping in Bermuda 3 months later--and now this. I think he is going to give my mom a heart attack. Yet Charlie wouldn't be Charlie without some constant crazy stunt. He's not one to live on the sidelines. Mike, on the other hand, is perfectly happy to quietly exist with the exceptional gut-busting comments about every little nothing.

I'm a bit lonely out here but am glad to have my own hotel room since everyone else is sharing (my roomie never showed up.) I call and bug my Mom everyday (not for revenge, but I actually like to talk to someone about something other than airline stuff.) But my padres are leaving for Egypt and Israel tomorrow. I am so incredibly excited for them and hope to see and hear all about it, but I'm really going to miss my daily chats with my mom. Although we love you dearly, Mom, I think I'm the only one who will miss your 5-10 calls a day. I actually wish I could talk to you 5-10 times a day out here. It's pretty quiet after class, but I suppose that's OK. It gives me time to decompress--not the airline, oxygen-mask-dropping kind of decompression, but just good ol' fashion relaxation. But I do think I could use some oxygen. My brain is fried. So until next time, buh-bye and thank you for joining us today. Fly with us again soon. (Whatever... you know what I meant!) Blog on...

Pretty Is as Pretty Does

Beauty. What exactly is it? Am I beautiful? What girl doesn't ask herself this on a regular basis? I’m asking myself this as I look back on some pictures of me that I have finally recovered after my big ol’ hard drive crash. It was back when my hair was down to the bottom of my back. It looked so awesome! I always got so many compliments on it. I remember now how much I loved my hair and wonder why I cut it. It was because it started feeling too long, unhealthy, and it would get stuck in the window when I rolled it back up—also in the seatbelt case as it wound back in when I took it off. I thought I would feel younger if I cut my hair like it was in my early 20’s—ya know, “the Rachel?” That layered bob look Jennifer Aniston made popular on Friends? But now that it is cut, I’m having haircut remorse. I also thought it would be easier to do (knowing better it wouldn’t be) and it isn’t. I thought it would be fun and bouncy-short. It’s not. It’s just short. Not really short, but the shortest it’s been in about four years. So now I have this oddly grim feeling that I sort of cut off my beauty. Is that possible? Every boyfriend has urged me not to cut it and with one, I would cut it when we were in a fight, just to spite him. (My last boyfriend didn’t make me made for four whole years which is why it got so long.) Even if I got a few wrinkles or didn’t dress as hip, my hair somehow made up for it. It would turn heads and elicit comments from even women. People were always asking me if it was “real” …whatever that meant. (Extensions, maybe? But no. All mine.) So now I feel like I have lost my greatest asset. And now being boyfriend-less, I feel especially vulnerable, like what am I going to play up now to turn some heads?

But as I look at those old pictures, I also see something else. Probably something no one else would notice. I actually see a PA (pre-accident… sorry, Dad) version of myself. It makes me feel like I was so naïve as I look at my expressions. It’s almost like I was soul-less. I mean, of course I had a soul, but it has been enlarged and expanded in ways I could have never imagined, making the previous version of me seem so much more deficient in wisdom and experience than the current version. I was so invincible. Like I look back and think, gosh, I had no idea then of what I would have to face—if I had, I would have looked terrified and concerned. Yet now that I’ve been through it, I would do it all over again. It has added a sort of depth to me that I didn’t know existed. Almost an inner, soulful beauty… strength, wisdom, confidence, compassion… things I thought I had, and did, but comparably so much less.

My point is that I see beauty differently. Right after my accident, I would ache and even cry when I thought of my physical scars. Sometimes I still get emotional. But they’re like my reminder that no only did I survive, but I conquered and became a better person for it. Though my body has been damaged in the excavation, my soul has been enlarged. In a way, I feel more beautiful, but in a way that only I know. My best friend Jen always says (because her mother always did) that “pretty is as pretty does.” And though I may not outwardly act more beautiful, I have this quiet sense of peace and strength that I didn’t before… The kind that makes you feel like you never have to apologize for who you are. I have an immense sense of love and gratitude for life, for people, for relationships, for each day and every little detail in it. I see everything differently, with new eyes and a new heart. And that makes me feel beautiful.

But I’m still going to grow my hair back out.

Heigh Ho

I've been getting some emails from ya'all wondering about this NYC business. Here's the scoop... As of tomorrow, I am homeless. I will reside in a Sheraton for six weeks while training for my new job as a flight attendant for Delta Airlines in Atlanta. Then I will report to my base which will be NYC servicing JFK, LA Guardia and Newark Airports. I have yet to find an apartment there because, let's face it, I'm not doing this for the money and it's pricey there. Ideally, I'd like to move back to SLC but I hear that my mom has a better chance of bungee jumping that any new FA has of getting assigned anywhere but NYC. However, I can still live anywhere and "commute" via air. I'll know more once I get my feet wet in training--literally. We have water training... just in case the plane happens to be over water if we crash. I've never understood how a pilot would have enough control to get over water before crashing (so we can "use the seat cushions as floatation devices" --should we survive the initial impact,) but still not enough control to avoid crashing in the first place...maybe there are just more lakes domestically than I realize.

Another question I keep getting is my travel plans. Day to day, probably cool places like Laramie or Shreveport. When I get enough time off, I plan to see London, Shanghai, India (with my bro to visit his mish), Hawaii, and Puerto Rico to visit my mish with one of my old comps (but she has to leave her 4 kids and husband behind for a girls week... how did I get so far behind?)

And as for the bungee jumping comment, I am reminded of a ditty I thought up back when everyone used to ask me when I was getting marr'ed (and I even saved it for the end of the blog instead of interrupting myself for a tangent above = progress.) "Marriage is like bungee jumping--the longer you stand over the edge and look, the harder it is to jump; especially when all you hear from those who have gone before you is screaming all the way down." Then I resorted to just saying my boyfriend died. For some reason, no one asks me about marriage anymore (except, of course, my mom--bless her lil' heart.)

Now you know the whole story and much more. (Did you expect anything less?) I hope next time you travel the friendly skies, you'll think of me serving ginger ale and pretzels. (And pray I'll never have to jump out of a plane; because that would, you know, be too much like bungee jumping.) Blog on! ~p

Oops ... Wrong Cookie.

Some friends took me out for a farewell dinner last night--Chinese food. Her husband and I eyed the same fortune cookie which, being a gentleman, he let me have. But then I thought,
"What if I got the wrong fortune and this is really his." I kind of panicked. But then as we read them all, we just decided which one really went with who, despite who opened the cookie. So how do you make sure you get the right cookie? One solution from a cookie maker was a fortune my sister got once which still hangs on her fridge:

So never fear, if it really is the wrong fortune, your cookie will let you know.

A Shout Out to My Papa

My dad is getting older ...62 today! One of my favorite things about my Dad is when he plays oldies on his guitar and sings along. It's not that he has the greatest voice (though not at all bad), it's how happy it makes him and how it reminds me of all the "oldies" that my parents loved and listened to, and so I grew up with, from the 60's--yes, they were oldies when I first heard them. (Geeesh, I'm not THAT old!) I especially love the Beatles. I told him once (as a young lady in my 20's) that I would like him to sing When I'm 64 ("Will ya still need me, will ya still feed me, when I'm 64?") at my wedding. You see, we girls plan these things from the time we can pretend to walk down an aisle with a towel for a veil. It is probably my favorite song that he sings and it's so cute about growing old with someone you love. I think he joked at the time (7-8 years ago) that he would be 64 by the time I got married. It was pretty funny back then, but not so much anymore. :) At the rate I'm going, I'll be 64 when I get married. It's weird to think that I'm halfway there.

But lest I divert you too much from the man of honor (perhaps I should change my blog name to "Diversions" or "Stream of Consciousness"), I must wish him a very happy birthday with many healthy years ahead. I would like to wish him more grand kids, but I'm not so much at liberty to help out in that area. But Dad, you are the cutest grandpa... who would've guessed? I also want to congratulate you on reaching so many of your goals and for finally following and reaching your dream to be a writer. And to toot his horn a bit, he is writing a story on our recent trip to Bermuda for the Deseret News travel section. I can't wait to read it. And Dad, I hope being the star of my blog today will encourage you to start your own. Finally, all the teasing aside, I'm starting to realize just how much like you I am... analytical, a thinker, a writer, and for sure a talker! And you have always made known your love and loyalty to the Lord and have encouraged us to do the same. I love you, Dad. Happy Birthday.

"Do not merely exist, but live." -unknown

Wowzaa...what a week!

I feel like I have to "talk" a million miles per hour to get this all out in such a short amount of time (...that's nothing new for me, you say?) But seriously....

So I got back from my incredible cruise on Saturday. I've decided that planes, boats and cars are all turbulent ways to travel, but I ain't walkin' to Europe! I'm still rocking from the cruise because it was so stormy. One night, the audience stood up during a music number and you could see them all swaying in unison. Kind of like a concert, but it was all coordinatingly in sync--which would never happen in real life. People in general aren't that coordinated. On the way home via air, we were diverted to CO Springs because of the "massive gusts" at Denver International. (Can I just say that getting in and out of Denver between November and April is such a crap shoot, whether by plane or auto--maybe I'll ski in and out from now on. But I digress--I'm moving to NYC anyway.) So of course, with Springs only 45 minutes away, it was also rather gusty and it was the bumpiest landing the pilot had in his 20 year career. (And hopefully the bumpiest landing in my career that hasn't even started yet.) Which brings me to why I am stressing and "talking so fast." Oh wait, I'm not done with Bermuda. Stay tuned for my stressful career change info.

So, back to the cruise. Spending 10 days with my family was truly priceless, meaning no one could pay any price for me to do it again. OK, it wasn't that bad, but I have decided that I hate five-letter words (despite my use-albeit diminishing--of four-letter words): HURRY. Is that not the rudest word in the English language? ESPECIALLY on vacation? They always wanted to hurry back to the ship by 6pm for free dinner. Hello! We're in Bermuda and they're all worried about cruise ship food? Whatever. Despite my irritation, I maintained my agreeability quotient until they brought up my next favorite five-letter word: STUFF. I love "stuff," but I hate when I get profiled as a packrat for it. And then they go off on how I shouldn't have so much stuff because I don't have a husband or kids or a house to justify needing it. Hello... (again!) Who said anything about needing it? A girl's just got to have her stuff to be happy--single or not. I keep it in my giant "HOPE" chest (as previously explained) so what do they care? Hope is a good thing, right? (And why am I defending myself?!?) So my agreeablilty quotient went down a few notches during that discussion. (And for the record, I think my agreeability quotient is way above average, except around my family--aren't we all more impatient with the ones we should have more for?) Some more five-letter words I hate: DIETS, SCALE, BILLS, STRESS. All of which are a part of my "back-to-reality" re-induction into the real world.

Once again back to the cruise. Oh heaven! The bed alone was worth it. Or maybe I just slept well because of the Dramamine I was taking in ridiculous doses. (I think we hit a few whales.) It didn't hurt that I had my own stateroom either. (How can a girl fit all of her stuff into one of those sardine cans if she has to share her bathroom and closet? After all, beauties are made, not born, right?! OK, so really I was just the odd one out and had no one to room with. But it sounded glamorous, didn't it?) There was a karaoke contest on board which was surprisingly addicting--like American Idol every night. I joined in and sang Cher's Shoop, Shoop Song ("Is it in his kiss...?") and Madonna's Material Girl ("Only boys who save their pennies make my rainy day-ays...") I wasn't really in the contest, just having some fun. I think I probably suck, but it was fun and life is short so I try to live each day to the fullest. Besides, it was just a bunch of stampers and families. It's not like there were any hot, single guys on board. And even if there were, shouldn't they know where I stand? Ha ha! Although I'm sounding rather high maintenance, you all know I'm not that shallow. But great kissing and cash sure don't hurt! The weather was rather cool and I didn't even need the bikini waxes I got because I didn't don my bathing suit the entire time. Not even on the one really warm day--still too cool for me. But I loooooved Bermuda. It was so quaint and clean. Beaches are great and all, but I need a little more to keep me interested in a vacation spot and Bermuda delivered. There was so much history and the architecture fascinated me. Which brings me to my explanation of why my brothers now think I'm a "doork." (Yes I spelled that right). I started seeing all these cool entry ways and doors and it reminded me of some really cool photos I saw by a guy who travelled all over Europe snapping pictures of interesting doors. So I decided to do the same to spice up the photo ops a little more--not that I needed to with all the gorgeous scenery but it gave me a quest of sorts--and to help me appreciate the uniqueness of the culture and architecture. It was great fun and I found a plethora of interesting subjects much to the dismay of my family who just kept walking while I stopped at every other doorway to take pictures. Again, whatever. That seems to be my new favorite word with my family. It's like the "Mahana Syndrome" where you respond to the way you're treated by reverting back to the way you were with your siblings and parents when you were fourteen, despite all the growth and change you have made in the years since. It's just so hard to resist that power to forget who you've become when those relationships were forged at early ages so long ago. Sometimes I feel like I have to apologize for the mature person I have become because the fourteen-year-old version is much more fun, though probably more volatile-you know, 'cause of the adolescent hormonal surges that shaped those years. No one seems to appreciate maturity, at least not when we're all together. That brings me to another abhorred five-letter word: penis (I can't bring myself to capitalize it like the other ones.) What is it about boys ("men") when they are together, despite the presence of their (unmarried) sister/daughter, that they have to continually talk about their genitalia like I am invisible? Without going into any detail, I'm leaving it at that and getting back to the subject at hand. (But lest you think differently, I really do love and enjoy my family more than ever. I play more, am myself more, laugh harder, and am more shocked(!) with them than around anyone else.)

Bermuda was amazing and beautiful and breathtaking, despite the cool weather. There were old forts, these amazing underground caves with a lake, and of course, the buildings and beaches I have already mentioned. And to boot, the shopping rocked, although pricey. But I was able to find a lot of European chocolates that I can't find here. Can you say Kinder Bueno? Yum! I would consider it a great honeymoon spot because it is so picturesque and romantic with just the right amount to see and do that you don't have to get up early and rush around to see it all. You can "sleep" in, go out for a few hours a day and still fully enjoy everything without getting bored. I give it 5/5 stars. And now, back to reality.

I found out the day before I boarded the cruise ship that I will start my training with Delta on April 15 in Atlanta. Yep. That's in one week. I will be getting all my STUFF packed up this week as well as figuring out the mess with fixing my car, writing all the stuff down for the drunk dude's sentencing which I will no longer be able to attend (on the 16th of April), and trying to wrap up ALL my paperwork to get reimbursed for the gazillions of pennies I have spent on doctors. I think with Victim Restitution I might be lucky to get a monthly $7 check for the rest of my life...you know, just enough to remind me each month forever of something I'd rather forget. Getting in an accident is seriously a full-time job if you take into account the time, energy and paperwork to get everything resolved. (I don't recommend it.) Can't you hire someone to do all that? ...like an "Accident Resolver" or something. Or maybe that's what attorneys and personal assistants are for--I'll work on that. Anyway, I'm a tidbit stressed about all that. Then there are my taxes -federal, CA, UT, and CO- that I have yet to start (darn it, where did all those W2's go?!) Oh, and did I mention I left my Visa card somewhere at La Guardia Airport? Not to worry, I cancelled it in time (after an hour on the phone with Visa... do they really think I would have the number of the card I LOST? OK, so I do at home, but not on vacation.) Anyway, my replacement won't come until after I leave for Atlanta. Furthermore, I have to contact the cruise line since their charges won't go through now, as well as all the companies I have on auto-pay (for the CC points.) Arrrrgggghhhh! But one day at a time, right? Despite it all, I feel refreshed and excited for this new chapter in my life. Besides, what fun would it be if everything ran smoothly all of the time? This is the stuff life is made of and it gives me something to laugh (and blog) about, right?

I'll get some pics up later today or this week of my trip. But for now, I'm off to the dentist. Blog on! ~P

Special thanks to the cast and crew of the “Love Boat” a.k.a. my Family Cruise: Mom, Dad, Ryan, Andrea, Moi, Mike, and Charlie.

P.S. (4/08/08) The pics are now up! I know this is ridiculously long but thanks for sticking with it until the end. I hope you like the photos. You may have to click on some of them so you can see them larger. Oh, and as for my dentist appointment...I'm having a root canal tomorrow morning. So now this is a wowzaa, wowzaa week! Wish me luck. :)