Paper Roses...er...Lilies

It's the little things.

Like origami paper lilies on my nightstand.

This isn't the first time Justin has made me flowers. I hope it's not the last.

Random Busy-ness

Lots has been going on and keeping me away from doing a proper blog post, but I feel like I should slap something on here.

Today, Justin and I ran all over the city to get all his paperwork signed, notarized and overnighted so he can get his clinical counseling certification. We made it with 17 minutes to spare!  And then Justin realized he missed sending a paper in the package. The deadline to receive stuff is tomorrow. The next time the licensure board meets is February. It would be highly frustrating if he couldn't get licensed (and get his raise) until then! The one paper he forgot to send doesn't need to be signed or notarized so he's hoping they will accept it via fax tomorrow.

At work I had to experiment with a reddish colored eye shadow with different applications. I had reddish eyeshadow smudged all over both my forearms and it wouldn't wash off. People looked at me strangely all day. Someone even asked me if I started dialysis.

Yesterday Joci pooped twice when she was supposed to be sleeping and hid her...um...fruits of her labor in a toy shopping cart car. She took off her pants and underwear to do this. Strange child.

My favorite new word of Joci's is "together." It's so sweet when she says, "C'mon. Do it together." Who can resist?

I discovered I am related to a Salem witch named Elizabeth Hutchinson Hart. This bit of knowledge is going to make my visit to Salem next month a lot more interesting and personal.

When planning my NYC trip, I checked times for the World Trade Center Memorial and the dates were wide open...until the tenth anniversary of the attacks. Overnight, all the tickets were gone. I was so upset and so was Justin. I kept checking back - for weeks. Someone had to cancel, right? I called and asked about standby lists. No. And finally...my diligence paid off. There were some cancellations and I got tickets.

I have less than a month to finish my second novel. I really need to get my shapely little behind in gear. It is definitely doable - if I don't procrastinate any more than I already have.

I am so sick of flies. I kill a dozen every day.

We started watching the CW show Ringer, mostly because I am in love with Buffy Sarah Michelle Gellar (total girl crush). Justin and I were giggling to see that a lot of it takes place in Rock Springs, Wyoming, which is where we met at the community college. We got a kick out of the character who is a professor at "Rock Springs Community College." FYI, doesn't exit. It's Western Wyoming Community College. Oh, and the fancy underground parking garage at the community college? Puh-lease. The college was barely bigger than my high school and the parking lot was smaller because more high school students drive than college students. Good try, though. We have enjoyed the small details like Wyoming flags in the background and the 307 area code. Also, the show is good. Super intriguing.

I have taken on the challenge of making Halloween costumes for myself and a coworker. Yowza! Actually, I think it will be fun. And since I have vowed not to make matching Christmas pajamas, it will fulfill my sewing credit for the year.

I was recently called to be a teacher in the Relief Society (my church's women's group). Sunday was my first time teaching. At the last minute, I realized I had prepared the wrong lesson and began my teaching experience by bawling like a baby. Only slightly embarrassing. Sigh.

My car is in need of numerous repairs. Barf. I guess it's good that I've paid the sucker off so I can afford some repairs. :)

I still cannot figure out the new Facebook layout. Driving me crazy.

Baby hunger is kicking in. Justin needs to finish his portion of the paperwork and then we'll be ready to submit our homestudy.

And the last bit of news? I'm tired. Going to bed right now. And I'm not even going to wash my face.

A Letter from Our Child's Birth Parents

A couple of weeks ago, I got this amazing letter Jocelyn's birth parents wrote to perspective birth parents who may consider choosing us to adopt a baby.

I have put it on our adoption blog, but I wanted to share it here. I am sure you can imagine how this makes me feel. I always worry about how Joci's birth parents are. I have always been very concerned about their emotional well-being and their satisfaction with our adoption. This letter helps put my mind at ease. Man, I love those people.

To whom it concerns,

Justin and Lara are excellent parents and we are very fortunate to have them as adoptive parents.

 I will admit that it was extremely hard for me at first, but they helped me get through the hardship of adoption. In the beginning I was unsure whether to have an open adoption or closed and I am so glad that they were understanding with my choice for open adoption. We receive pictures quite often along with letters about how Joci is growing and fun and exciting things that she is doing. It helps get through the toughtimes. 

We know that Justin and Lara are the right choice when choosing someone to raise and care for a child. If we choose to give another child up for adoption they would be the first people we would choose. They deserve to be parents and have changed Joci’s life for the best. We were not able to give her the life she deserves and be the parents that she needed. I, as a birth mom, do not regret choosing adoption because we found the perfect couple to adopt our beautiful baby girl. She will always be in our hearts but Justin and Lara our her real parents. They love her just as if she were their biological child. What more could any parents looking for adoptive parents ask for?

Sincerely, The Pfeiffer Family 

Will Treating Justin's Hormone Problems Restore Fertility?

It's the unspoken question on everyone's minds.

We suffer from undiagnosed infertility. That means the doctors haven't been able to fully explain why we can't get pregnant. We've established that I have endometriosis and fibroid tumors and Justin has high viscosity and low motility. But none of those things should completely prohibit fertility. But year after year and procedure after procedure returned fruitless.

During our fertility treatment days, Justin's blood was never tested. I am 100% positive he has suffered from testosterone deficiency most if not all his life. His lifelong symptoms speak for themselves.

But now we know! Justin's been taking supplements for a week and a half and he's already feeling much more energetic during the day and finds sleep much more restful. One of the side effects of testosterone deficiency (or hypogonadism) is infertility.

Is that symptom reversible?

Is this condition the cause of our infertility?

Will we be able to conceive in the future?

These are questions swirling around the minds of people who know our situation. They are swirling around in my head too. The answers?

We don't know.

We haven't talked to an endocrinologist, so my knowledge is limited to what our family doctor has said and what I've researched online. Our family doctor basically said, "It could help. It will be interesting to see what happens."

Through researching online I have learned that there are two types of hypogonadism. Central hypogonadism is when there is a problem with the pituitary gland in the brain, which is supposed to send messages the organs (in this case, the testes) to produce testosterone. This often happens because of a tumor or growth and when it's removed, the gland sends the right signals and the organs respond to those signals and fertility is often restored. The other kind of hypogonadism is called primary hypogonadism. It occurs when there is a defect in the organs. The signals coming from the brain are just fine - but the organs are not responding properly for some reason. Treating primary hypogonadism has unpredictable results on infertility because there is something fundamentally wrong with the organs - not just the message the organs are receiving.

I am sure if I talked to a specialist, we would get better information, statistics, and likelihood, but it's just not on my to-do list right now.

I am feeling a lot of different things about this knowledge. I am SO happy that Justin will be able to feel better and have a much more enjoyable quality of life. He usually falls asleep in the chair within 30 minutes of getting home from work and then goes straight to bed. The last few evenings he's been awake, interactive, and energetic. It's amazing! I am worried about getting my hopes up for fertility. A long time ago, I'd arrived at a pretty accepting point in my infertility journey. This kind of undoes a lot of the healing I've done. Part of me says we should now talk to a specialist just to see. Maybe it's a sign, a message, a piece of fate that we know and can now do something about it. Part of me wants to just take this knowledge, file it away and keep things the same. Because doing fertility treatments was some of the hardest stuff I have ever done and I do. not. want. to. do. that. ever. again. I think how exciting it would be to experience pregnancy and have a birth story. And how wonderful it would be to add to our family the "cheap way." :) Pregnancy would be seriously economical! And then I think how I've accepted and even embraced infertility for myself  - I don't want to get kicked out of my wonderful infertility community! How could I do that to Joci? Would she forever resent it if we had a biological child?

Lots of internal battles. Lots of praying and soul searching.

And as of right now, lots of unanswered questions. But I know some of the best growth occurs because of struggle. I know this challenge is part of God's plan for me. I don't know what the outcome will be and there are a lot of questions, but there isn't any turmoil. Ultimately, I know that there is a divine road map for me, slowly unfolding, and I trust the Maker. I don't know what the future holds, but I know it will be just as miraculous as my past.

photo by Jason Miller

My Imaginary Hand-Crafted Perfume

J.Lo has one.

And Britney Spears.

Now Jennifer Aniston.

Heck, even Justin Bieber.

When (that’s a big fat “when” not an “if”) I am famous you can bet I am going to market my own perfume. And this is what it will be.

Janela by Lara

(Pronounced “zha-ney-la”, janela is the Portuguese word for window and seriously the prettiest word I have ever heard.)

Fragrance family: Oriental woods

Top notes

Gardenia

Sweet water accord

Sugared lemon

Mid notes

Jasmine

Fig

Praline

Base notes

Creamy blonde woods

Sweet cedar

Tonka bean

And the bottle would be elegant, faceted, and maybe a little mystical. :)  Like this: 

Sparkling white florals with a citrus kiss embrace warm, sensual woods in a surprising melange of innocence and seduction.  

Janela...by Lara

What would your perfume be like?

A Meandering, Fractured Diatribe on Feeling Like a Failure

I get so disgusted with myself and my lack of...everything...and I sometimes just throw tantrum. Like shoving an entire toasted tuna cheese sandwich in my face in front of my starving family.

Let me back up.

Let me confess.

I have a fear of inadequacy. Of not being enough. I find myself faking my way through life so others won't realize exactly how deficient I am. I am the type of person who never asks questions for fear of being thought stupid, then struggling silently for hours, days, months, whatever. I am the type of person who overcompensates with big gestures just so the world can see how put together and amazing I am, while inside I am struggling to be enough.

Yesterday was one of those (frequent) days when things came crashing down.

I woke up not wanting to go to church. I didn't say anything and when my husband made the tiniest remark about feeling dizzy due to side-effects of his new medicine, I said, "Let's stay home." I feel so guilty because I do this more than I should. And it's one thing for me to make this decision for myself, but I hate that my lack of follow-through affects my daughter.

All weekend...no...all week my house has been messy. Justin was on-call for Child Protective Services last week and he was gone a lot or emotionally drained. I try to clean my house but I am not good at it. Justin is amazing. I would've never thought it, but there can be house-keeping talent, but Justin has it and I do not. I will be cleaning off the counter and find something new there - a piece of mail that seems kind of important but could be junk or some birthday toy Joci got at daycare. That unknown item cripples me. I don't know where it goes - it's new. It doesn't have a place yet. I spend so much mental energy trying to decide to do with that one item that I can't move on. I will clean up the things I can (and I am talking clutter clean right now) around the Unknown Object and just leave it, untouched. I won't even move it to a less obtrusive spot. I am frozen!

And if your household is anything like mine, these Unknown Objects appear almost daily.

I will spend an hour trying to clear off my kitchen counter and after an hour's time, very little progress appears to be made. It's depressing. Justin can clean the counter, the table, the dishes, everything in like 20 minutes and it's perfect. I am glad I have him, but it frustrates me. Why can't I do that? What is my problem?

I am decent about filth cleaning. Better than Justin so we balance out. But I get overwhelmed. I don't know if it's because I am out of the house so much with my job, but it is never done. And never all at once! Dirt and dead bugs in the windowsills. Grime on the blinds. Fingerprints on the glass cabinets. Spotty windows. Weeds in the garden. Crumbs under the toaster. Black grout in my tile. Soap residue on the counters. Birdseed hulls on the floor. I refuse to list anymore because I am embarrassed, but believe me, the list goes on and on.

And right now, flies have invaded my house. I am constantly swatting them away from my face, my food, my baby. A fly swatter has been attached to my hand for the past few days. I kill a dozen or so every day, their disgusting bodies smeared against my cabinets and dropping dead on my floor. Gross.

This is what happened to me yesterday. I had tried for a week - seriously, spent so much time and energy - trying to declutter and clean the house for my dear husband, and I had realized that NO ROOM IN THE HOUSE LOOKED DECENT. Not one!

I was making grilled tuna and cheese sandwiches for lunch. Joci was whiny and getting in my way. I snapped at her. It broke her heart and made her cry. She wandered around aimlessly, screaming, not sure what to do with herself. She couldn't come to me for comfort because I was the meany. She doesn't go to her dad for comfort, which is frustrating for both of us. She shut herself in the backyard. It took me a moment to take a few deep breaths and calm down and I went to rescue her. She was laying face down on the back deck, crying into the rug. I picked her up. Her tear-and-snot-streaked face was coated with dog and cat fur. I noticed my unwatered, unmowed yard. I saw the caking of lint filth along the edge of the deck under the dryer vent. My flowers in my planters are dead. This could seriously be a Halloween house.

I cleaned Joci up and went to finish lunch. Justin sweetly came up to me and rubbed my back. "When Joci goes down for her nap, let's watch another episode of Vampire Diaries."

"Or how about we burn down the house?" I snapped. "It's so disgusting. We just have to burn it down."

That outburst caused Justin to leave in a hurry.

As I flipped the sandwiches grilling on the stove, clutter got in my way and cramped my motion and I seared my thumb on the edge of the skillet. Great.

I was done. I gave up. I grabbed my sandwich, plopped on the couch in self-pity, and ate the entire thing in three bites.

Justin looked at me. "Aren't you going to tell us that lunch is ready?"

"Lunch is ready," I grumbled angrily.

(I am such a joy to be married to.)

Later on, Justin did his magic cleaning. The house looked great. I was even motivated to make dinner. He cleaned up dinner. Took him less than 20 minutes and the house was immaculate. I love that he can do it, but it makes me cry. Why is it so hard for me?

I proclaimed that it is a dang good thing that I am not a 1950's housewife whose value was greatly defined by her ability to keep a spotless house at all times. And not for the first time, we talked about having Justin be the stay at home parent when our financial situation allows one income.

This post is getting really lengthy. I suppose it is more of a journal entry than a post. For me more than for you. I just wanted to strip off the mask for a little bit and say that I often wonder when I will actually be a grown up. I often feel like a little girl playing make believe. I post pretty pictures on my blog and try to write insightful things. It's all showmanship. It's not a lie...because that is part of who I am...but I definitely hide a lot of who I am from the public eye.

Oh, I would do anything to have a professional cleaning service help me out a couple times a month. That would be the best thing ever. I have talents, but they do not include house-keeping.

The Partnership of Motherhood

Today, I was walking down the hallway in-between doing laundry and making dinner and constant clean up and I felt a small hand slip into mine.

"Hold your hand?" a small voice asked.

At times I can't believe that I have a precious little girl. She is my world. And it's moments like these that I know I am hers. She wanted nothing more than to slip her hand into mine and follow along with all the boring chores I was doing.

My heart just swelled. I thanked God in that instant for the gift of motherhood. Tonight in my prayers I will thank Him a little more formally.

And I thank Joci's birth parents. Without them, my world would be totally different.

Being a mother is a hard thing. I read a Facebook post today that listed the definition of motherhood as doing the job of twenty people for free. So true! It's hard work any way you look at it. I could never do it alone - and motherhood wasn't designed to be done alone.

Every mother is in a partnership. And I'm not talking about marriage. I'm talking about a sacred partnership with God. He allows his most precious spirits to come into our lives. So many times in the past 2 1/2 years I've questioned God's sanity for sending Joci to us. What have I ever done to deserve blessings so immense? Not only does He facilitate our motherhood, He helps us. Mother's intuition? It's just a little help from above. Being able to do the endless, thankless tasks - and actually enjoying them? Divine mercy, absolutely.

I'm lucky enough to have a more recognizable motherhood partnership with Jocelyn's birth mom. When I first heard about open adoptions, the concept seemed so foreign. But now that I truly embrace God's role in my becoming a mother, it seems so foreign to exclude the birth mom. We don't co-parent. But the recognition and respect I have for Joci's birth mom. I would not be a mother without her. Period. It's humbling. And I love her more and more every day for her gift to me.

Sometimes being a Mommy can feel isolating. But really, we are never alone in it.

My Book Report on Jane Austen

I finally finished my first Jane Austen book. I figured it was something I ought to cross off my bucket list. :)

At first, I didn't really like the book (btw, I read Pride and Prejudice). You can read about my first impressions here.

It seriously took me halfway through the book until I wasn't forcing myself to read and I realized I actually kind of wanted to know what happened next. With most books, if I am not engaged by the end of the first chapter - or the second at the very latest - then it's hasta la bye bye. Not gonna waste my time. So yeah, a little weird that I didn't find it interesting until it was half over - about the time that Elizabeth and Wickham kinda had a thing going on and nasty stuff came out about Darcy.

So I must conclude that....

I enjoyed the book.

While I still am annoyed with a lot of Miss Austen's idiosyncrasies, if step back from the prose, I find that I do like the plot of the story very much.

And I refused to picture Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy because I don't think Colin Firth is handsome at all.

I pictured Mr. Darcy more like this: steamy, arrogant, and unabashedly handsome Ryan Reynolds

So, I read it. And I enjoyed it. And I want to name my house something like Pemberly. And I think I should watch a movie version of Pride & Prejudice. But which version? 

I Have Become Peg Bundy

I'm kidding about Peg Bundy.

I hope.

At the salon last week, I got a new color. Auburn. At first, I wasn't so sure. It was quite vivid. Almost maroon-y. A couple of shampoos has tamed it, I think. But at first it was quite bright. And with the bangs, I felt like this:

What I really look like is this:

What do you think?

What 9-11 Means to Me

I was 19.

I woke up to our radio alarm clock like every morning. Justin was already gone - at work on campus. We had been married for three months.

The clock radio had a lot of chatter instead of music. It sounded important. Just as I was waking enough to understand it, the phone began ringing. I was annoyed and didn't want to answer the phone because I wanted to listen to the radio. It was Justin on the phone, telling me about the attacks on the World Trade Center.

I hustled to campus. The school had turned one of the lecture rooms into a makeshift theatre. A projector displayed the news on a large, blank wall.

Students and teachers crammed in alike. No one cared that we were all skipping classes. We were equal - Americans in our fear and grief.

Justin whispered to me, "I bet it was bin Laden."

I didn't know who that was.

I didn't even know what the Twin Towers were. Or the World Trade Center.

I learned.

After classes, Justin sat in our Spartan apartment and listened to the radio. We didn't have television. I felt like we could have been in the 1940's listening to President Roosevelt's fireside chats.

It was scary. I cried. Who didn't?

Ten years later.

I woke up to natural sunlight filtering through the blinds. I dozed in and out of sleep for another twenty minutes. I got up and checked Facebook. I heard Joci calling for her Daddy, so I got her out of bed. Using a recipe from Joci's latest Highlights magazine, Justin and Joci made pumpkin chocolate chip pancakes.

I took a shower. I heard Joci ask me something. I told her to ask her Daddy. A minute later I smelled something. I peeked out of the shower and saw Joci painting her own toe nails on top of the toilet lid. I hollered for Justin. He got an on-call phone call right then, so I jumped out - mid-shower - and got the mess under control.

We went to church.

Joci was hyper. It was a really long meeting.

We relaxed at home, looking up our family history and watching What Not to Wear.

Our flag is flying out front.

We've laughed all day. Hugged and smiled. Embraced our loved ones. Eaten delicious food.

I read stories to my baby. Rocked her. Said prayers with her. Sang her songs.

We're happy.

It's pretty obvious that the terrorists have not won. We have.

Joci's First Movie

Now that Joci can stay glued to the TV and watch Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper (a.k.a. "Anneliese") over and and over again, we thought it would be fun to take her to the movies. Especially since she won a free movie date pass at daycare a few months ago. I decided Winnie the Pooh should be her first movie.

We took her to the matinee a couple weeks ago. Popcorn, sodas, booster seat, the works! Joci was so excited she wouldn't even look at the camera when I took her picture - and the movie wasn't even playing! She did awesome. There was some definite wiggling and seat hopping. And every time Tigger appeared on screen, she generously (and loudly!!!) identified him to the entire theatre: "TIGER!!!"

The movie was adorable. I loved it. I loved that they didn't try to modernize it or make it all CG. It was pure classic bliss. And occasionally Joci still asks, "Watch movie yellow bear?" I think she liked it.

It's Not a Tumah!

As Arnold Schwarzenegger said, "It's not a tumah!"

Our doctor was kind enough to call us after his office hours to let us know that Justin's pituitary looks great and appears to be functioning well. First thing Monday morning, he'll go in and discuss supplement options for him.

We're celebrating the good news with cookies'n'cream ice cream and chocolate chip cookies. Yum!

A New Diagnosis for Justin

Call me Dr. House.

About two weeks ago I read a health article that talked about identifying certain health conditions just by looking at your hands. I told Justin about the article and he examined his hands and saw that his pointer finger is longer than his ring finger - a sign of low testosterone. So we got on the Internet and looked up looked low testosterone. Justin has a staggering amount of symptoms.

Lucky us, we had our physicals already scheduled for our adoption home study. Justin had his testosterone levels checked last Thursday during our appointments.

We got the results back on Tuesday. Justin's testosterone levels are low. Severely low. Normal levels range from 450 to 1200. Justin's levels are at 180. Testosterone supplements will do a lot to help him feel immensely better. But...his levels are so low for a man of his age and the doctor wants to check to see if there is any kind of mass growing on his pituitary gland, which is the gland that regulates testosterone production.

First thing tomorrow, Justin is getting an MRI to check out his brain.

Going Toe-to-Toe with Pregnant Relatives

"Two of my children are expecting, so I'll have two more grandchildren soon."

In late 2008 and early 2009, I heard my mother utter these words more than once.

They always confused me.

My sister Julie was pregnant. But who else was expecting?

When I asked her, she responded simply, "You. You're expecting."

And I was. I was on an adoption list, hopefully expecting to be picked sooner rather than later.

But no one other than my mother seemed to think of it that way. I certainly didn't. Without an impending due date or landmark ultrasounds or a growing basketball-shaped tummy, I didn't feel like I was expecting anything.

The dream of being pregnant at the same time as my sister wasn't real. In the end, our daughters are exactly two months apart. So we will always have daughters the same age and they will always have a cousin the same age, which is longer lasting than a 9 month coinciding pregnancy...but it still would've been fun to go through that with my sister.

I was so excited for her pregnancy. She had many heartbreaking miscarriages before giving birth to her son a couple years prior. I felt like she was the family member who could relate to my infertility the most. And I think I lived vicariously through her pregnancy a bit.

I was so excited for her. And even still, when I got the call that she was in labor...and I got the call that the baby had been born...and my sister gave me her blog password so I could share her news with the world on her blog...I choked back tears.

Holding my sister's baby girl for the first time.

Of course I had no clue that two months from that very day my little angel would be born and we'd be asking her to update our blog.

The anticipation of adoption is much different than the anticipation of a birth. The "paper pregnancy" is not obvious. People don't tell you that you're glowing. Or inappropriately ask to rub your belly. Or offer you their seat. People don't ask you what you need or if they can throw you a shower. Or offer to take you shopping for maternity clothes and makeover because they know you feel out of sorts with a strange body. They don't ask questions about what you're going to name the baby or about nursery decor. They don't spontaneously buy an outfit at the store that is too cute to resist.

It makes sense...I didn't allow myself to participate in any kind of baby dreaming and scheming. It's too uncertain and far too emotionally dangerous. I more than understand. I refused to have a baby shower until after we brought Jocelyn home. I wasn't going to risk it. So I get it...but I still miss out.

We were matched with Jocelyn's birth parents 17 days before she was born. Our families crammed all of that scheming and dreaming into those 17 days. Lots of questions and excitement. It was so much fun. Anticipation is one of the best parts of an event.

The differences between awaiting an adoption and a birth were thrown into sharp relief, for me, because I was "paper pregnant" while my sister was physically pregnant.

This time, things aren't so different.

Justin's sister-in-law is pregnant. It's like deja vu. Not to mention her due date is in February - when my sister had her baby 2 years ago. Like her, I am expecting the arrival of a baby. I am concerned about how the older sibling will adjust, how our finances stretch, how our already hectic schedules will accommodate another person.

But my belly doesn't grow. My face doesn't glow. There is no need to ask about morning sickness, no reason to adjust to a finicky diet or sense of smell. No need for a personal day with a pregnancy massage and pedicure because I can no longer see my toes. (How about an adoption spa package with a de-stressing hopeful adoptive mama massage and facial to mimic that pregnancy glow? I'm on to something!)

I am not pregnant. There's no way around it. I don't want to pretend I am and I don't want others to either (how weird would it be if I started stuffing my clothes with pillows?). I know I miss out, and I also know that missing out on morning sickness and ballooning weight isn't such a bad thing. I get to do the important thing - be a mom.

I guess I am just saying that expecting a baby at the same time as close family member feels a little lonely.

Guest Blogger: John Hendricks

Lucky us! John Hendricks - the artist behind the "Good at Being Bad" song posted below and a fellow high school alumnus - is my guest blogger today.

LZ: What is the hardest thing about being a gang leader?


JH: The hardest thing about being a gang leader: spanking my gangsters when they do something bad.

LZ: What does the baby in your video mean? 


JH: What does the bible mean? for those that have understanding let them understand.

LZ: What are your musical inspirations? 


JH: They're always changing. I find inspiration in rhythmic concepts, melodic combinations, instrument usage, etc. It's always weird for me to hear people say "I listen to everything".

LZ: What clothing would you ban? 


JH: Pleated mens pants

LZ: What is the next step in your musical career? 


JH: Making jingles for a wet nurse company

LZ: What was the coolest part about being in Blue Man Group? 


JH: Thinking about all those people growing up who told me I was weird and now thinking "yeah, and I'm getting paid for it."






I'm so excited to see what John does next. Check out his wife's entertaining blog here. I've never met her in IRL but I really want to! She's my kind of girl!

A Letter from My Twelve-Year-Old Self

When I was twelve, my sister Stephanie suggested I write a letter to myself to open five years later. I suppose it was a cure for boredom on a random day.

I know I have read this letter before but I happened to stumble across it in the basement today. I will rewrite it - spellings, errors, everything. I apologize in advance to anyone this embarrasses or offends. I had a lot of attitude back then...

Dec. 20, 1993

Dear Lara,
I suppose I'm 17 years old and a junior at Hillcrest High School. Being twelve ain't no picnic. I love country music and Justin Heaton. My best friend is Maria Finch. Has Faye Earl moved to Shelley yet? Was it sad for me?

Am I still active in the Church? Did Jordan ever come back to the Church?

Have I gone on my first date yet? With who and did I ask him or did he ask you? How exciting. I've always wanted to be Justin's girlfriend. Did my dream come true over the past 5 years

Ashlee Pimentail is another of my friends. She's pretty cool but she tells Justin everything I say about him. Do you I remember that time Ashlee was talking to Justin & I hid under the table & he saw me & rolled his eyes? That was embarassing.

My favorite things are listening to cowboy country music, dreaming of Mr. Knight (Justin), drawing, writing notes & talking to Juliette - Maria - on the phone.

I want to be Miss Hillcrest someday. I hope my dream comes true. When I grow up I want to be a country vocalist or a farmer. Maybe a 4th grade teacher

I will now mention some prices.

Prices
Candy bars = 40 cents or 2 for 80 cents
Pop about 50 cents
corn dogs 65 cents
movies
Paramount = $1.75
Center = $1.25
Cinema = $5.00
Rio = $5.00

Today I found out that Trina Earl is getting married to a guy named Shad. That's really exciting news for me.

Has Dad gotten his life long dream of retirement yet? Maybe now he's not such a grump.

I bet ya 10 bucks Stephanie ain't married yet. An old maid, really old made. If she does ever get married I hope she gets married to Joel Benson, John Taylor, Mike Diedidge or Kris Smith. Or Dave Poppleton. I hope he gets divorced.

Some things that I do are, embroidery, piano - although I hate practicing - singing, dancing, and acting mature. I hope to get married in the temple to a poor-in-money-but-rich-in-spirit, friends, & love-man. Then we'll honeymoon in Las Vegas and live in Texas, Nebraska, Georgia, or Idaho. What a great life. I would like to have about four - 4 - kids named, Harmony, Jill, Wade, and Kevin. Well see ya in five - 5 - more years.

Gotta go

Luv Lara

Pretty obnoxious. I am glad I've come such a long way since then. Stephanie - you were NEVER an old maid. Dave Poppleton, wherever you are, I hope you have a lovely, happy, successful marriage. Jeff, I am glad Stephanie married you. Dad, retirement has suited you well. :) Justin Heaton, you're a gem for putting up with my flirtatious actions for years. Harmony? Kevin? Really??? Justin my husband - I am glad that I finally got to be a "Justin's girlfriend" and fulfilled my dream of being married in the temple to a poor-in-money-but-rich-in-spirit, friends, & love - man. But let's work on that poor in money part now, okay? Haha.

And yes...it is a great life.