A List

• Basically two straight weeks at home (with a 36-hour break in the middle) is fun. Even if Jess says she gets sick of me.
• I genuinely miss poem-a-day February. I might create poem-a-day March.
• The boy turns 18 tomorrow. Oof.

• Murry has been laying on the bed all morning. I'm not positive that he realizes this morning was his last walk with Megan, but I kind of think he might. He's been a lot quieter than usual.
• I wish I could wear flannel all the time.
• Tomorrow cannot come soon enough.

The Ballet. Also, Dan.

Last night after eating massive amounts of teriyaki while watching this week's episode of The Mindy Project (Have you watched it yet? "Danny, will you make a pact?" I died.), I got all dressed up in a fancy fluffy dress (thanks, Megan!) and went to the Pacific Northwest Ballet's Nutcracker.

It was magical.

Elise, me, Amy

Several years ago, Maurice Sendak partnered with the PNB manager to design the sets and costumes. I loved reading about that in the program, because the sets just felt like Maurice Sendak. And it's really such a great story for him to be a part of. All about the ease of children to slip in and out of fantasy.

Easy to see him in the set, isn't it?

The sets were fabulous, the costumes were beautiful (I must, must get a tulle skirt that flies up when you twirl), and the music in the second act had me grinning the entire time. It was a wonderful night.




In other news, today my dear friend Dan turns 28. (So old.) If we still lived in the same state, we would celebrate with cake waffles again. As it is, I'm eating french toast tonight. I'll think of you and your birthday and how I'm so glad we became friends during that perfect Boston summer.

It was magical too.

My Buddy

When I moved to Boston, I left my Melis in Provo. After talking to her nearly every day since after leaving Egypt in September 2008, I had to deal with some serious best friend withdrawals. I made several really good Boston friends, but Melis and I both know that the one who came closest to replacing her (no one will ever replace you, M) was dear Anne Marie.

Photo of us on my birthday, stolen from AM.
Please excuse the packing mess in my room.

Anne Marie is a sweet, strong, funny person. Her laugh is infectious, especially when she laughs in less-than-appropriate settings (Sacrament Meeting). She loves ice cream more than I do, and that's saying something. She is an excellent example of healthy living, something I will never do as well as she does. She uses her time wisely. She doesn't submit to social pressure when she isn't interested in doing certain things, which I appreciate. She loves pigs. Her parents are her best friends. She is a great conversationalist and a fabulous listener. And she knows when a girl needs chocolate.

Anne Marie is exactly the kind of person you want around when you want to have fun, or just be chill. She will go on ice cream runs, and walks to talk about life. She'll discuss nail polish as seriously as she does her schoolwork, and she is a critical and honest shopping partner. She is brave, and encourages bravery in others. She will never give up on you, and always has your back.

And because I'm sure Mel will make them play the game, I would marry Anne Marie because she is such an honest and faithful friend. She is the best kind of buddy a girl could ask for.


Happy birthday, AM. I sure do love you.

Today is a good day for

My parents. Happy Silver Anniversary to you.

16 December 1986.

Dan. Happy birthday to you. Hope you don't feel too old; you are 27 after all.


Me. The semester is over, the magazine turned in. Only a few complaints about the printer. If you'd like to see it in its entirety, email me for a PDF. Here, we'll just admire the cover.

You're young enough to cliff dive, Mom

On Saturday, Mel and I met up with Calvin and Reed downtown to watch this year’s cliff diving competition. That’s right, cliff diving. We watched men jump off the 88 foot ICA into the Boston Harbor, doing dives I’ve only ever seen before in the Olympics. It was amazing. Our favorite diver was named Slava Polyeshchuk. His name was cool, but really I loved him because he was 45. 45 years old and diving off 88 foot buildings. Wild. He didn’t win (poor Slava), but he was still the most impressive because of his age. Which, today, is the same age as my mother. I hope she doesn’t care that I just broadcasted that on the internet. But when I mentioned the similarity to Calvin, his response was, “Your mom is a baby.” So 45 is young, Mom. You know Malone thinks so too.

The older I get—and we know that 23 is so, so much older than 45—the more I realize that I am becoming my mother. At times this concerns me, because if the pattern follows and she becomes her mother and my grandma becomes her mother then that means eventually I’ll be like my Great-Grandma Marge, and I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with that (though don’t get me wrong, I love Grandma Marge). But the fact that our birthdays are a mere two weeks apart has always made it easy to compare. To play Dad’s favorite game, “If your life were like your mother’s,” I’d be married three years with a one-year-old. Strange thought.

Really though, I’ve inherited many excellent qualities (and maybe a few not so excellent) from my mom:

My love of Gone with the Wind. It was her favorite book first. And her mom’s before that. I’m sensing a strong pattern here.

My love of shoes (though, thankfully, not her wide feet). I’ve been told when my parents were first married my mom had about a hundred pairs of shoes, and Dad’s brothers were astounded when they helped them move into their new apartment. But they didn’t grow up with girls, so they wouldn’t understand.

My love of American history. My mom majored in American Studies and seriously considered going to law school (then she got married and had me instead). Don’t tell my grandpa, but there is always a part of me that wishes I could go to law school.

My love and knowledge of the English language. I’m a bit more (okay, a lot more) fanatic about linguistics than my mom, but she certainly instilled in all of her children a desire to read, and an ability to use words well. While on newspaper staff in high school, if we could not come to an editing agreement Malone would have me call my mom, and she was the deciding vote. We went with her every time. I still ask her opinion on occasion when I can’t remember something and Chicago is unavailable.

My love of studying medical information. My mom loves to hear about illnesses, surgeries, the way the body works. I, too, like it as long as I don’t have to see anything. I loved living with premed/nursing/public health roommates while at BYU so I could ask questions and learn a little bit about their anatomy/physiology/virology classes. They’re fascinating. And maybe part of the reason I’m a bit of a hypochondriac.

My love of mystery/detective shows and books. Mom still watches Perry Mason and Magnum P.I. when she folds laundry. I introduced her to Psych and Bones, and I think she’d probably like Covert Affairs. She let me read all her Nancy Drew novels as a little girl, and I’ve read every Mary Higgins Clark book in our house and Grandma’s multiple times (except for A Cry in the Night because that one still creeps me out too much). We both love Laurie King’s Mary Russell series too, though sadly my mom does not share my love of Sherlock Holmes. But she might like John Buchan’s The Thirty-Nine Steps. That one was a lot of fun.

My love of garlic and chocolate (but not together). French bread is a frequent purchase, sometimes not making it out of the store completely whole. Mom keeps brownie mix in constant food storage rotation, and whenever it is 10 for $10 at the store I purchase at least four boxes. We also have at least three cartons of ice cream in the house at any given time, but I have a feeling that’s more a product of Grandpa Nels and Dad than it is of my mom.

My love of design. I realized that my attraction to the design aspect of publishing is probably due in part to my mom’s scrapbooking. I don’t scrapbook like she does (I still haven’t finished my Jerusalem book and it’s been almost three years), but scrapbooking is very design-oriented. I think that’s probably part of the reason I can see things so well, even if I’m not as good at producing them myself.

My love of knowing things. I want to know everything that is going on with everybody. Not to use the information, just to store it away in my head. I get this from my mother.

My love of classy decoration. My mom has a specific style when it comes to paints, fabrics, furniture, light fixtures, handles, appliances, and anything else with which you fill a home. It’s an excellent style, and other people appreciate her opinion (Mom helped Lisa with some decisions in the new house, and they were quite lovely). While my own style deviates slightly from hers, I definitely get my sense of home décor from her.

On her 40th birthday.

Happy birthday, Mom! You could dive off a cliff if you wanted, you're still young. I hope you at least make Megan and Jessie take you to Brick Oven for dinner since you're in Provo. Or Los Hermanos. Oh, and eat a mint brownie! And Graham Canyon ice cream. Man, I wish I could come too.

Happy Birthday, KJV

I live in a weird language dichotomy, unique to those who were (or still are) ELang and editing students. On the one hand, I am a grammar snob: a prescriptive believer in the purity of language, its origins, and its power. On the other hand, I am a linguist: a descriptive understander that language evolves, that varieties are not better or worse than each other, and that our dialectal differences are what make our language fascinating. Like most dichotomies, it is a confusing one, and I find myself continuously (or is it continually?) vacillating between the two ideas. I have labeled myself as a descriptive prescriptivist, but even that classification is not always entirely accurate. I never know exactly where I stand.

Except with one thing:

I love the KJV.

I’ve never been able to totally define my strong feelings toward this particular text; I think the Geneva is quite nice as well, and I will acknowledge that the NIV does a good job with its more contemporary translation. But I will always, always refer back to KJV, no matter how much anyone attempts to convince me that another translation is better, more accurate, or easier to understand.

This year, as I hope many of you know, marks the 400^th anniversary of the publication of the King James Version. I know it sounds a (lot) bit ridiculous that I am getting sentimental about this, but I am. I love this translation. I love it for its message, yes, but right now I love it for its language and how much it has affected ours. There have been several tributes to it in recent weeks, to which I would like to draw your attention:

Hallelujah! At Age 400, King James Bible Still Reigns (NPR)

Why the King James Bible Endures (NYTimes)

The end of Charles McGrath's article is a better explanation of my feelings than I have articulated thus far.

There are countless new Bibles available now, many of them specialized: a Bible for couples, for gays and lesbians, for recovering addicts, for surfers, for skaters and skateboarders, not to mention a superheroes Bible for children. They are all “accessible,” but most are a little tone-deaf, lacking in grandeur and majesty, replacing “through a glasse, darkly,” for instance, with something along the lines of “like a dim image in a mirror.” But what this modernizing ignores is that the most powerful religious language is often a little elevated and incantatory, even ambiguous or just plain hard to understand. The new Catholic missal, for instance, does not seem to fear the forbidding phrase, replacing the statement that Jesus is “one in being with the Father” with the more complicated idea that he is “consubstantial with the Father.”

Not everyone prefers a God who talks like a pal or a guidance counselor. Even some of us who are nonbelievers want a God who speaketh like — well, God. The great achievement of the King James translators is to have arrived at a language that is both ordinary and heightened, that rings in the ear and lingers in the mind. And that all 54 of them were able to agree on every phrase, every comma, without sounding as gassy and evasive as the Financial Crisis Inquiry Commission, is little short of amazing, in itself proof of something like divine inspiration.

Maybe that’s why I love it so much.

To celebrate its birthday next month, I would like two presents. First, this amazing book by one of my favorite linguistic authors, David Crystal. You should go check out NPR’s review. It will make you want it too.

The other is this amazing poster. Tell me you aren’t in love with the idea. I want that on my wall.

For my Melis on her birthday

Dearest Melis,

I'm sure I can come up with more reasons that I love you than this, but you're only turning 22.

1. You throw my super awesome birthday parties.
2. You are very conscientious of the people around you.
3. You actually enjoy my crazy linguistic-induced excitement and conversations.
4. You didn't hate me when I laughed about Martin.
5. You invited me to come to Sunday dinners.
6. You are supportive of my decisions.
7. You gave me the Oregon map when I moved to Boston.
8. You taught me how to do my hair.
9. You let me use my broken foot as an excuse even when you knew it was just an excuse.
10. You love Bones and 500 Days of Summer as much as I do.
11. You tell me what you really think.
12. You let me cry and know exactly what to say.
13. You shattered my negative Utah perception.
14. You go on fun adventures.
15. You answer all my medical questions.
16. You have great relationships with your sisters.
17. You always made us stop at Roberto's in Cedar City.
18. You are coming to visit me in May (and it will be SO FUN).
19. You run slow with me when we run (unless you try to kill me by the temple).
20. You are concerned about my health and make me eat when I forget.
21. You send packages and post cards of inappropriately-dressed men.
22. You are a great example in the way you approach your life.


Love, Al

Kim Dear

Yesterday was my darling old roommate Kim's birthday. She is amazing and beautiful and so smart. She went on a date with a boy from Boston once, and I wanted her to date him just so she would come out here and could visit me.

I love you, Kim! I wish we could still play together all the time.

Sixteen Today

Reasons why I love my brother:

1. He scratches my back when I go home.
2. He sings all four parts of the hymns at church.
3. He plays facebook scrabble with me.
4. He lets me wear his sweat pants when I do my laundry.
5. He likes to bake.
6. He likes my music.
7. He tells me about school.
8. He is patient when we talk about basketball.
9. He is very funny.
10. He plays piano duets with me.
11. He got his Eagle Scout award.
12. He is one of the smartest people I know.
13. He doesn't make too much fun of me when we play video games.
14. He respects our parents.
15. He honors his priesthood.
16. He is a good friend.


Happy birthday, Tanner boy. I love you.

Lovin'

I can't stop listening to The Weepies.

Also, this one song by Matt Costa.



They make me want to (re)learn how to play the guitar (again). Gorgeous. 

Speaking of lovely things, today is the lovely Lou's birthday. I hope it was wonderful and included cake. I also have started The Lover's Dictionary for a second time. Yes, I finished it in less than twenty-four hours. Yes, I started it again in less than twenty-four hours. It's that good.

Hola, Juan?

So after our third blizzard, I saw this message:

What good is delayed start for evening classes? At least last night we got out early because of the blizzard. But really, this one was weak compared to the last two.


Even without class being canceled (I can never remember it's only one L), today is a very special day. The specialist (not an adjective) day of all days in January. Bigger than MLK Day, bigger than New Years Day. Today marks the fourteenth anniversary of the Hunnybunny's birth.

Fourteen! Good grief.

Happy birthday, Jessie.



Boom, boom, boom . . . muffins!

Speedy Fast (Like a Jackal) Post, I have to get back to India

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the State of the Union address. Actually, there are a few things that run along those lines I've been wanting to discuss.

However.

I've spent tons of hours alternating between reading A Passage to India and the history of British colonialism in India, specifically the Mutiny of 1857, for the last three days and my brain is completely exhausted. As are my eyes. But those don't really make much of a difference while thinking.

Which means, I'll discuss those things later in the week. Instead, today I'm just going to say that at 9:30 p.m. when my physical being will be almost out of my literature class, my spirit will be in Provo, Utah. Specifically Pizza Pie Cafe. Hopefully eating some delicious cheese bread and the one dessert pizza Michael thinks is so great. Spiritually, of course. Meaning my spirit will be there, not I'll be eating religiously. Usually I don't make such long treks in the middle of winter (and another blizzard coming), but when they're celebrating for this guy

Who could stay away?

Happy birthday, Thomas.

Macalicious

Although my dad is most important, I would be remiss if I didn't mention one more birthday. He is one of the kindest, most genuine people I have ever met. At my birthday party before I moved from Provo, Melis had a jar labeled, "Why We Love Allison and Will Miss Her Dearly" which people filled with notes for me. Whenever I am sad or lonely, I read these notes. This one always cheers me up most.

Allison! (A-Dawg)
I love you because you are such a good example to me and love to read. I wish I read as much as you! I also love how you like to talk to me about girls and you are such a great listener! You are amazing and I love being you friend. Happy Birthday!
love, Mac

I love being your friend, too. Happy birthday Mac! I'm sorry I'm not there to celebrate with you.

Reflections on a Special Day

I wrote a reflective essay for my freshman English course my very first term at BYU. This post is compiled of excerpts from that paper.

My dad is a big baseball fan. His favorite team has always been the San Francisco Giants, and so, by birth I am a Giants fan. My very first baseball game was when I was only two weeks old. I couldn't sleep and my mom was tired, so Dad took me out to the couch. He lay on the couch and laid me on his stomach, and we listened to the Giants game on the radio. I slept great after that game.

I always fell asleep after the games. When you're a little kid, staying up until ten to finish a baseball game was a big deal. During the car ride home I'd always fall asleep. It usually took a long time to get home, too; Candlestick Park wasn't terribly far from where we lived, but the traffic after the games was awful. I remember sitting in the car in the parking garage and being so tired, but not wanting to fall asleep and leave Dad all by himself. It was so hard to stay awake in the dark with a stomach full of drumsticks. Inevitably, I would fall asleep while Dad listened to the radio in the parking garage, waiting to go home.

As a graduation gift my dad took me to a Giants game against the Seattle Mariners. Safeco Field was amazing, although I still had a nostalgic fondness for the cold, windy Candlestick Park. We took a tour of the field before the game, and we were able to sit in the press box and in the visitors' dugout (Dad took a picture of me sitting where the Giants would sit a few hours later), and we watched them open the retractable roof. It was a great game; they even had the dancing hats during the seventh inning stretch. There was a group sitting in front of us that had a little boy with them, he was probably a year old. He was a lot of fun to watch, but they only stayed through the fifth inning. My dad commented that they weren't true baseball fans if they didn't stay for the whole game; I sat through an entire game when I was only a year old. And just like at my first baseball game, I fell asleep during the car ride after the game. Seattle to Portland was a bit longer than our old San Francisco drives, but I still felt bad that I left my dad all by himself to listen to the radio while we drove home.

The Giants won the World Series last week. Both my dad and I were thrilled, but I would have been more thrilled if I could have been there with him. Watching the games, and perhaps eating a drumstick.

I love you, Dad. Happy birthday!

This month is such a special one

Dears,

I hope you all have a wonderful day, a day that started with an extra hour of sleep! What could be a greater birthday gift? Really though, I hope it's happy and you eat cake and open some nice presents and feel loved. I'm sorry I can't be there to wish you happy birthday in person, but you will all receive a phone call at some point. I thought about you when the clock turned to midnight and it became your birthday in Boston, and I'll be thinking about you throughout the day. I miss you all so much. Happy birthday(s).

I love you.

Meggiemooga

The year Megan turned two, our uncle wrote her a birthday poem:

Samba, tango, rumba, conga,
Get yourself a chimichanga,
Eat it fast, and dance a jig
'Cause Megan's getting really big.

She isn't much bigger now than she was then.

But today is her nineteenth birthday. And a lot of other things have happened in nineteen years, even if she hasn't grown much.

For starters, she has made a lot of friends. Megan has a great talent for making friends quickly and making people feel comfortable. She has great relationships with our cousins, and she and her best friend, spend more time together, even though they don't go to the same school, than any other girls I've ever seen. It's almost like having two nineteen-year-old sisters (happy birthday tomorrow, Emily).  

Megan is also amazing with kids. The little cousins love her, the entire neighborhood asks her to babysit, and there is a particular family with four little kids who miss her weekly visits since she's gone away to school. She still sees them when she goes home, and I'm sure they will remember her forever.

Megan is a really good student. Sometimes she doesn't like her classes or doesn't understand the material as much as she would like, but she tries really hard. She is always on top of her homework and she studies diligently for her tests, even when she has ten million social events going at the same time. 

It was fun having Megan in Provo my last year at BYU. Even though we haven't be the very best friends, I will miss her a lot when I leave. I love you!

If I Had One Wish Then It Would Be

My mom's cousin Katie always does birthday posts for her siblings on her blog. I thought I'd give a little shout out to the birthdays of the past few days.

Fourth of the month, my dear cousin Desiree. She just finished her freshman year at BYU and is a very impressive student. She's always been impressive in all aspects of her life, and I admire her greatly.

Seventh of the month, the triplets. Abby, McKay, and Alex. They are now officially teenagers, and to celebrate they invited me to come to Brick Oven for dinner after they received Harry Potter Scene It and a brand new TV. I love hanging out with them.

Eighth of the month, my aunt Karen. I was nine when she married my uncle Ryan and I thought she was so cool. I loved the way she curled her hair in hot rollers and wanted to do mine just like hers. She doesn't use the curlers anymore, but I still think she is so cool.

Apparently I don't have a picture of Karen. But I will in a few weeks when I see her in Oregon. I'll post one then.

Happy birthdays family! I love you all.