Procrastination...to the bitter end.

Procrastination. It is so easy. Anyone can do it. And it feels so good...at first. But it always comes back and bites you, usually in the face where there is no way to ignore it. I like to think of myself as a careful, responsible procrastinator. I don't procrastinate to the point of no return, only to the point right before the point of no return. And that is a very distinct, important difference. Somehow I just can't quite find sufficient motivation to dig in and do the dirty work of a project until time constraints leave me no other option; imminent due dates seem to serve as sufficient motivation.

This principle is particularly applicable to dreaded college research papers. It's not really my fault or choie that inspiration finally seems to flow during the last few, vital hours before the paper is due. And I can't really help it if those few hours are usually either deep into the night, or in the wee hours of the early morning. I always do the necessary research with plenty of time and the many valiant, if fruitless, attempts that I always make to start the writing process surely help me in the end, right? But regardless of my efforts, the inspiration simply refuses to come until the lack of time demands its presence.

So, the waning time then becomes both friend (bringing inspiration) and foe (bringing the imminent due date closer and closer) in the battle to win the race. Ironically, I have come out triumphant every time, which strengthens my resolve to become an even more avid responsible procrastinator. I'm becoming quite skilled at eliminating all worry and fretting regarding looming due dates, knowing that good old Time will work his magic in the end, demanding inspiration and a little sweat, and producing an acceptable end product.

You might ask if there was anything in particular that inspired a blog on the last day of finals, five months after my last blog. Yes. There most certainly is. The last due date for my final research paper is quickly approaching, but I haven't quite wasted the last possible minute before I'll have no more to spare, so I thought I'd post my thoughts on this silly situation I put myself in. Really, I was just looking for any half-valid excuse to procrastinate a little bit longer. But I feel the first pangs of panic setting in, wondering how on earth I'm going to finish the paper that I have yet to start by this evening, dreading the grueling hours ahead, but knowing that freedom will shortly be mine. So, I'd better go get started...

Responsible procrastination. It works like a charm for college research papers. But I don't think it's an eternal principle. So, I plan on reforming as soon as this paper is finished today...

Weekend fun

I went tubing down the Provo River last weekend! It had been about three years since I had last been, so I was just a little bit excited. We stuffed our huge tubes into my car and after driving up the canyon without any AC, we were ready to jump into the river. Or so we thought. The water was like ICE! After my feet got cold enough that I could no longer feel them it was a lot more comfortable and I was able to enjoy the sun on my face and relax as we floated down the river. The only mishap was when we arrived at the bottom and realized that we had left our keys for the car in the other car we'd driven to the top. No worries--I'm pretty sure half of Provo was up at the river enjoying the Sat. afternoon, so it was easy to find a ride up to my car.

Tubing wasn't daring enough for me. So, I realized one of my life goals this weekend--I attended Catholic mass! Interestingly enough, I've never gone to mass before, though I've been in many Cathedrals when I was in Mexico and discussed religion with many Catholics in Argentina. The Cathedral of the Madeleine is gorgeous with alted ceilings and incredibly detailed stained-glass windows depicting scriptural characters and events. The ceremony was very interesting, though I found it a little strange how everything seemed to focus on the priest and few leaders, with little congregational participation. The organ was exquisite--in fact, the organ solo that was played at the end of the services made me jump out of my seat, it was so intense and dramatic. It could have been from the Phantom of the Opera or something!

The Cathedral is right behind me--you can see the towers on the horizon.

After mass we wondered to Temple Square and enjoyed the incredible Spirit that accompanies that holy ground. While I felt peace in the Cathedral and felt awe at the beauty of the music, walking onto Temple Square brought an intense sense of truth and conviction that was very distinct to what I had just felt. The Spirit really does testify of truth! We went to the statue of the Christus and then went through a new presentation focusing on the family. It was beautiful.

I love this picture of the temple. The sun was setting, so it made for a beautiful picture.

Worthy to be called an ADVENTURE.

Meandering lazily through shaded woods, enjoying a gorgeous panoramic view of whited mountain peaks and trees, feeling the sun warmly on your back and the breeze in your hair, hearing birds chirp happily from the tree-tops, and savoring the aroma of pine trees. This is why I love the mountains. I don't think that there is anything that can parallel the secluded beauty approaching sacredness that is encountered only after a long, tiring hike to reach a distant peak. Eternal principles must be at work, for it seems that the sacrifice, hard work, and even pain required to reach the top of the mountain are always richly rewarded.
Of course, this describes the ideal hike--but honestly, when have you ever had one of those? Last week I joined a small group of eager friends on an overnight hike through Big Springs up Provo Canyon to Cascade Saddle and down Rock Canyon, and I'm happy to be alive to tell you about it! We had quite the adventure. I don't think words can quite do it justice--I only wish I could share a little bit of the rain with you to help bring it to life. We started out in the evening, at about 7 and waved down a friendly truck driver to give us a lift for the first couple of miles up the windy road. An hour or so of hiking up the trail we looked like this:


Still dry, fresh, happy and mostly, still dry. Our objective was that distant peak at the top of the pictures that we are all pointing at. Little did we know what that night held in store for us. But neither could we imagine the beauty of the morning.

Aching legs, sore feet, various snow patches and a few hours later, we reached the top of the saddle and in the moonlight looked out over fleeting clouds and unending mountain ranges. Isn't this incredible?

Rachel and I--still somewhat dry and warm:



After a gourmet meal of hot dogs and warm chili, exhaustion hit us and we realized that we needed to find some place to sleep. Raindrops and threatening clouds in the north-east hurried us in our search; however, at the top of the mountain there are few flat areas for a good campground, so we settled for an area on a steep hill under a group of trees that we hoped would offer a little protection from the coming rain. The darkness and our exhaustion hid the rocks and tree roots that made our beds, and we all settled down at the base of different trees just as it really started to rain. "It is going to be a long night...." I thought as I drifted off into unsettled sleep.
This is the hill sporting Cynthia's sopping sleeping bag at about 3 am that morning:

The boys gave up their somewhat-drier sleeping bags to the other girls who were miserably wet and cold--real heroes.

This is Rachel and my little nook at the base of two trees. One tree was my pillow, the other was my foot rest. It was actually relatively comfortable until the pool of water formed beneath me. We were completely wet at this time and just a little bit cold, but still smiling. Finally we had sat up because it was raining and dripping on our faces and further sleep was out of the picture. This sleepless night led to deep, intellectual conversation about life and the stupidity of humans that would impel them to exchange their warm, soft, dry beds for wet, rocky, muddy beds at the top of mountains. I remember commenting at one point in our only somewhat coherent conversation, "Rachel, do you remember all those times in our lives that we were warm and dry?" She laughed, but I was serious. Conjuring up memories of warm times seemed the best activity to help pass the dreary night.


The morning light brought relief from the dreary night. The picture doesn't really portray it well, but if you look closely you can see that our sweatshirts are completely wet and even though my blanket looks warm, I probably could have wrung streams of water from it.

Despite the wet and miserable night, lightening sky revealed beautiful landscapes that filled my soul with awe. I loved being above the clouds!


This is the view of the other side of the ridge, heading down towards Rock Canyon. Incredible!



Five hours and a long rainstorm later we finally reached the bottom and long-awaited warm showers! I don't know if I'd be willing to knowingly suffer through another rainy night like that one, but I will admit that it was most definitely a memorable and primarily enjoyable experience! I want to go back and do it again without the rain and with a tarp, just in case. Have you ever had crazy, unexpected adventures that are unforgettable? This trip will be numbered among my favorites.

Being a kid again...

Having a perfectly valid excuse to get entirely dirty is one of my favorite aspects of camping. It allows me to live as if I were a child again when my own appearance was of practically no import since I was very rarely even aware of what I looked like. I believe life was simpler back then. Never was a moment wasted on superficial appearances; time was spent on more valuable things like building forts and wielding magical swords that my imagination brought to life. But today I still love the grime beneath my fingernails and the dirt smudges all over my face, and most of all the freedom from mirrors. There is no need for mirrors, just look at your neighbor--you probably look just as bad. Our family reunion this weekend provided a perfect opportunity to indulge. My 15-month-old niece Emilee apparently shares my enthusiasm for getting close to nature in a very real way. Although I usually don't indulge in the dirt mustache, I think it looks adorable on her!


This is clean Emilee with two of her many bead necklaces, some of her most treasured possessions.

My 18-month-old nephew Caden is always extremely observant of his surroundings. His head of bleach-blond hair is absolutely beautiful. It's enough to make a girl jealous.

Adolfo got plumb tuckered out.

How can you say 'no' to that face? Adolfo, my 3-year-old, nephew, sure does have a charm about him and sports some of the biggest brown eyes you've ever seen.

I am fascinated by my two little nephews and my adorable niece. Their personalities are so different. They are each very much their own person. It is refreshing to observe their antics and be the recipient of their slobbery kisses. Childhood really is a magical time....

Extra Ordinary

I remember the first time I encountered the word extraordinary. I must have been eight years old or so. "That must mean something is extremely ordinary and boring," I thought to myself, wondering why anyone would want to be extra ordinary anyway. Simply ordinary seemed boring enough to me.
My life today could be described as ordinary. My favorite food is cheese (now, maybe that's not quite normal... but you'll likely encounter others with similar good tastes), I don't like fresh broccoli or horseradish, sometimes I bite my fingernails when I'm nervous, and I absolutely love reading a good book. I'm of average intelligence and although my stature is perhaps slightly below average, my physical appearance does not draw any undue attention. I have moderate goals of achievement, am usually good-tempered, and find great enjoyment in life's simple pleasures such as watching a sunset, feeling the wind in my hair, talking to a friend, watching a baby sleep, listening to music, or simply being with my family. I'm a pretty ordinary girl, you might say.
So, while I'm nothing really extraordinary, each day I live is completely unique from the one before. Which makes each day slightly extraordinary. At least, I like to think of life that way. Each day is an adventure. Sometimes I wake up thinking, musing,wondering, "What does today hold in store for me? What adventures await me?" And sometimes my adventures are just extra ordinary and sometimes they are quite extraordinary! Regardless, I'm learning to enjoy the ride.