My two favorite things: Art and Murder

I've just been sooooo busy that I haven't blogged because my life is so important and interesting. Or? I haven't had anything much to blog about. But this weekend was jam packed with action: two rounds of the Arts Festival and a murder mystery dinner. My camera is getting a little bit old and losing its eyesight, so most of my pictures from said events are a little blurry. I intend to steal some from friends when they appear.

My sister and my mom and I went to the festival as soon as it opened. I bought a few things a necklace, a journal, a soap dish--you know, art. My favorites were a guy who cuts into matte boards to make shadowbox-like constructions and the guy that paints with his own blood. I really enjoyed watching people walk into his booth, chatting with friends in their sun hats, get up close to the paintings and then quickly back away once they saw "blood and ink" in the wall text. He also had a basket with a sign that said "Normal" art; I thought it was funny. I'm sure there were some stoked Twilight fans.

 Getting my face painted at the art's festival was the highlight of my childhood, so we visited the kid's yard to remember the good times.

 

My best girls hosted a murder mystery dinner with an ancient Rome theme. Can I just say: it's so nice to live in the same city as the people that you like, at least a few times a year. During the game, Mandy kept stealing things, Jackson convinced small children to burn down buildings, Lindsay was "fast" (as usual), Scott carried around animal intestines...and I committed murder by posing as a statue until everyone but my victim left the room--that's an art historical murder if I've ever heard one. 

My favorite part of the night was when we all sat down to play the game and turned on the CD. We were looking for some kind of spooky instructions, but the first track on the CD was just background music. We ended up sitting in a circle, looking at eachother with shifty "who dunnit" eyes for about ten minutes before we advanced the CD. It was pretty tense. I wish my camera had gotten a good group picture, because our costumes were top notch, but here's the best I got:

 

The wreath on the wall really adds to Brad's costume. I'm sure he planned it.

 Scott's nibbling on animal entrails, which he uses to predict the future...duh.

Here comes Testosterus Maximus! with the groceries. 

I just got home from the Arts Festival again. It was pretty great, although I do think its sad that this event is the only art-related event that happens in Salt Lake. I really like Salt Lake, but for some reason tables of ceramics, jewelry and paintings are too "arty" to exist more than once a year. Maybe I should become the community arts hero of the SLC. 

The girls, next to a car covered in knitwear.

 The boys, talking about water bottles. Scott's saying "I accidentally filled mine with grape juice," while Brad and Michael cluck their tongues sympathetically. Then Michael throws in "We're men, right?"

Smoothie art.

I'm adding this picture because, well, look at Michael. Is he trying to swallow an egg? If Michael got into plastic surgery this is what would happen to his pretty face. Man, it's so great to have a blog/online venue to score points against Michael.

Anyway, thanks for a fun weekend, SL friends!

I also have to add this picture from a few weeks ago when Michael and I took his nephew hiking. He was such a hiker! When we picked him up he said "Wait, Sarah, I gotta get my hydration pack." I felt like an idiot with my low-tech water bottle. When we finished and turned around to start back he looked innocently at Michael and said, "I think I'd like a Slurpee." I agree, Morgan, the best part of hiking is thinking about what you're going to eat when you finish.

Two studs.

Happy Father's Day!

Dear Dad,

You're the best. Everyone thinks so. My friends are always pretending that you're their dad when you aren't looking. You're super cool in weird ways. You used to skip out on swimming lessons, ride your pony "Blacky," bail hay and drink goat's milk in Iowa (you may not think that's cool, but it sounds pretty exotic to me)...  For example, you know a lot about fish tanks, you made a rocking chair once, you climb mountains, build houses, and even beat mom in scrabble (every once in a while). Nobody can do all those things. Well, certainly not in combination. I know little girls always try to find somebody to marry who's like their daddy, but mom has been telling me from the very beginning that I never had a chance--after all, nobody knows anything about fish tanks anymore.

I think you're very easy to talk to, which is something that very few daughters can say. I probably stems from my childhood when I used to commute with you to go to daycare in your building and then to elementary school--forty minutes of talking in the morning and the afternoon will do it. We used to listen to oldies 94.1 and KFAN or I'd read books out loud. Now you listen to books on tape--they probably have better readers than I was, and I'm sure they aren't reading "The Boxcar Children" or "American Girl Doll Adventures," but I really enjoyed our trips. Except for that one time I tried to comb my hair and the brush got all snarled...

You seem to dominate my childhood memories. You were always home braiding my hair into elaborate fishtails and sitting in my room with the rocking chair until I fell asleep--you even used to let us style your hair. You threw me in the air when "John Stockton sent the Utah Jazz to the NBA finals!" I remember you trying to talk me into eating a hotdog once when we were camping in Canada, but I refused and you made me a veggie burger and never bugged me about being a 13-year-old vegetarian again. Remember when we went and picked out Rusty? Admit it--that was a genius idea.

I remember you pointing out poison ivy before my first climb (I wasn't afraid of heights, I was afraid of being itchy) and I always remember our father's day outings with Laura. Tracy Aviary, Liberty Park, once we did a Starzz 5K. We're going on an outing tomorrow...once Laura and I come up with something.

You've always made me feel safe. I remember once we were raking leaves in the back yard when I was little and I'd just watched a scary movie called The Witches (Rold Dahl was so scary) and I was  pretty sure the "Grand High Witch" was going to walk across the deck and turn me into a mouse. The whole day I made sure that you were between me and the deck. I still feel that way a little bit. I'm very happy that you've always been there for me, even if you've never defended me from an evil witch.

I remember once time when in high school when I was bummed out about religion and feeling like a black sheep, or at least a grey sheep. You told me that no religion and no person should ever be hateful, but also that understanding was a two-way street and I would have to try to understand people if I wanted to feel better. I think I would have rather just talked about how everyone sucks but me, gotten bitter and engaged in "Utah hating," but I think back on that conversation often and it still means a lot to me. You were right. I tend to lump that memory with another one: I once came home from junior high and called someone, probably Laura, a "fag," you and mom both leapt out of your seats like I'd slapped you and told me how hurtful and wounding words like that could be. I remember thinking you were both crazy, and I tried to keep using the word, but it felt wrong and it still does.


This is another sort of silly memory, but I remember being at McDonalds when I was pretty little sometime during a road trip and we ordered water. I must have thought I was pretty smart because I cheated the system and filled my drink up with orange soda (I could have at least gone with Sprite, if I was trying to be sneaky). You gave me a dollar and we went and paid for the drink. You said, "there's no reason to lie about something silly like pop." I'm making you sound like you're always delivering prophetic statements, but I guess I just really remember the times that you did.

I've mentioned the girly stuff that you've been supportive of (hair, American Girl Dolls, playing cat's cradle) but you were also at all my concerts throughout school (even though your musical knowledge stops at "Joy to the World") and I know you were proud at things like concerto night and my graduations. I think you're even interested in art history (or at least you let me talk about it like we're still commuting to school), which is just kind, because it's pretty boring most of the time.

Growing up I never thought about how great my dad was (unless mom was telling me about it).  I was used to my dad being home a lot--all summer even--making sure I had everything I needed or wanted, playing games and laughing with our family every night. I realize now that that is an incredible gift that a lot of people I know didn't have.

I'm very thankful for our relationship and I'm so proud that you're my dad. Ask anyone, I always bring my friends to the house, tell random people your calculus scores and say "Oh, that's my dad's climb."

I took this picture a long time ago, but I always pull it up in Oregon when I'm missing you.

Love you,
Sarah

Swim, Bike, Run, Wear a Tuxedo

I drove through Spokane and Boise on my way home from school because I'm a very supportive person. Michael hosted the graduate reading for his program. Why? Because he brought a tuxedo to Spokane and owns his own PA system (which he also brought to Spokane). You may be asking why Michael brought his high school concert choir tuxedo and a sound system to grad school. I asked a very similar question when I helped him pack. Not to mention bringing two tuxedo shirts...but that could be a blog post in its own right.

I suppose he proved me wrong though. Here he is, with his co-host, presenting her with the award he (and everyone else in the cast) won for their participation in the Music Man, circa 2003. I clapped (see, supportive).

We then caravan-ed to Boise to watch Michael's parents run a half tri-athalon. We discovered that road tripping in separate cars is not fun at all. If you can't argue about what to listen to and offer each other licorice, then it doesn't count as a road trip.

We did have fun in Boise though. It's not that often that you get to cheer for the people you love. We should try to do this more often--like when someone parallel parks or has a good hair day. I made a sign (two supportive points). The family next to me borrowed my sign since their racer was also named John--he was touched that they made him a sign (I never let on...except for now). They both ran/biked/swam well and were surprisingly life like post race.

In the below pictures, Michael will demonstrate how to make an inappropriate sign face. Sign faces should be happy, or angry if it's a protest sign. You shouldn't have a serious face behind a sign that has polka-dots. And what is that in the next picture...sly?

 

Great job Becky and John! Thanks for giving us an excuse to cheer for you!

Just a little silliness

Well, I decided to take a break from my terrible, terrible life and peruse the internet.  (Ok, my life isn't terrible, but my papers are not finished yet.) I've been wanting to share one video with my blogging fan base for a while. I'm kind of a youtube hater, I don't know why. I think it comes from my anti-chain mail position. But, every once in a while I lighten up. I'm really enjoying these two today.
I have two comments:
1) That is the worst possible name for a fish on a hook.
2) This is very similar to my dog Rusty's voice.

 

I know I say this a lot, but I'm so looking forward to going home. Michael and I are going to meet up with Michael's super-star-athlete parents and watch them run a half ironman. I fully intend to cheer away grad school while they run. I may consider bringing a blow horn...

I lost it

I lost my free bagel card. Eating ten bagels and receiving a hole punch was the most concrete accomplishment of my first year of grad school and now it's gone. Gone, as if my bagels never existed. Well, I'm here to say that they did--I ate those ten bagels and I'd do the same for any one of you!

I'll let you know if I find it.

Speaking of finishing my first year of grad school, I had my last class today. We watched a disturbing Surrealist film which I'm trying to forget...anyway, I'm about 30 pages and a few xeroxes from freedom. So close, and yet so far. I never thought I would get sick of class, but the past few weeks I've just wanted time to research and work on projects instead of going to my seminars. What does that say about me, I wonder? I've become a complete nerd, who would rather wade through books alone than learn collectively? or I'm so focused on my projects that I've lost touch with the real world? Probably both.

I'm going to go write those papers so I can get home for some climbing, settlers, Cancun Cafe, meeting Michael's new baby niece (!), Rusty Rusty Rusty and some not art history. Sounds lovely right? I guess I should write those papers now.

This is the image that came up when I searched for "lost bagel." Not exactly what I had in mind...