A few years ago I was talking to my childhood best friend Sam's dad because he had stopped by Bob and Cathie's house for some reason. This was right before I moved to Palau and he was asking me what my job was going to be like in that country.
We talked for a while. And the conversation naturally moved to what I would do after Palau. I was telling him about how I would likely look for a job in the Salt Lake area but I wasn't sure, exactly, and that I hoped to find a good job before my contract in Palau ended.
We talked about those plans to look for a job in Salt Lake City for a while. I had expressed worry about not being able to find work. And then he said, "well, do you have any good contacts that could help you?"
And I said the following:
"Um . . . actually I don't wear contacts. I mean, I have these glasses, but my prescription is super weak. I don't really need them. But I like wearing them because I think they make me look smart hahahaha. I don't think I could ever wear contacts. It would be hard for me to stick something into my eyes."
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
Sunday, July 29, 2018
Seatmates
The universe has required me to take on a substantially larger share of sitting next to not-the-best seatmates on flights.
I'm happy to do it. Sometimes. But not every time.
It's like a curse. I see the 100-pound sensible-looking elderly woman with a tidy purse board just before the 7 foot 2 man with 16 carry-ons and a half-eaten jumbo bag of corn nuts and I immediately know the latter is destined for the seat next to, which in coach basically translates to "on top of", me.
It's fine. Someone has to sit next to the excessive cougher or the complainer or the person who insists on a window seat despite needing to use the bathroom every 20 minutes.
But it would be nice to have a break from this every once in a while.
Last night I did not get the break.
I knew where they were headed the moment I saw them get onto the plane. It wasn't rocket science to figure it out. They were very late and there were few seats left. I was in an aisle seat on a row of three, and the middle and window seats were unoccupied.
I'm happy to do it. Sometimes. But not every time.
It's like a curse. I see the 100-pound sensible-looking elderly woman with a tidy purse board just before the 7 foot 2 man with 16 carry-ons and a half-eaten jumbo bag of corn nuts and I immediately know the latter is destined for the seat next to, which in coach basically translates to "on top of", me.
It's fine. Someone has to sit next to the excessive cougher or the complainer or the person who insists on a window seat despite needing to use the bathroom every 20 minutes.
But it would be nice to have a break from this every once in a while.
Last night I did not get the break.
I knew where they were headed the moment I saw them get onto the plane. It wasn't rocket science to figure it out. They were very late and there were few seats left. I was in an aisle seat on a row of three, and the middle and window seats were unoccupied.
Thursday, July 26, 2018
How I Nearly Started World War III
We booked the hotel because it advertised access to a "private beach." The beach ended up being more like a stone patio that dropped off into the Adriatic Sea. It was nice enough. A bit small. But Croatian coastal towns seem to be crowded this time of year, so any access to the waves is appreciated.
Skylar and I had wandered to the water in the early afternoon. The stone patio was big enough to contain about 50 lounge chairs, all huddled closely together.
We wandered past each, looking for one that had not yet been claimed. About half of the chairs had people sitting in them. The other half had been draped with towels, most of them hotel towels, like little flags claiming territory on the moon.
Not a single lounge chair was empty, so we eventually perched ourselves on top of an uncomfortable rock.
We baked there for 20 or so minutes. I continuously scanned the patio, hoping that someone would give up a seat. But the 25 people already sitting looked like they were about to start requesting that their mail be sent there. They weren't about to go anywhere.
Skylar and I had wandered to the water in the early afternoon. The stone patio was big enough to contain about 50 lounge chairs, all huddled closely together.
We wandered past each, looking for one that had not yet been claimed. About half of the chairs had people sitting in them. The other half had been draped with towels, most of them hotel towels, like little flags claiming territory on the moon.
Not a single lounge chair was empty, so we eventually perched ourselves on top of an uncomfortable rock.
We baked there for 20 or so minutes. I continuously scanned the patio, hoping that someone would give up a seat. But the 25 people already sitting looked like they were about to start requesting that their mail be sent there. They weren't about to go anywhere.
Tuesday, July 24, 2018
Smizing in Slovenia
In Ljubljana Slovenia last night:
Skylar: Here, give me your phone so I can take a picture of you.
Eli: No. You're really bad at taking pictures of people.
Skylar: I'm VERY good at taking pictures of people.
Eli: You're not. You're good at a lot of things, but this is one of the things you're really bad at.
Skylar: How am I bad?
Eli: You do weird angles and you take the pictures when the person isn't ready and you don't notice that the picture is bad so you stop trying and you tell the person you "got some good ones" and I've been burned by you enough.
Skylar: These are all lies! Give me your phone now! I'm going to prove to you that I can do this.
Eli: Fine. Here.
Skylar: Here, give me your phone so I can take a picture of you.
Eli: No. You're really bad at taking pictures of people.
Skylar: I'm VERY good at taking pictures of people.
Eli: You're not. You're good at a lot of things, but this is one of the things you're really bad at.
Skylar: How am I bad?
Eli: You do weird angles and you take the pictures when the person isn't ready and you don't notice that the picture is bad so you stop trying and you tell the person you "got some good ones" and I've been burned by you enough.
Skylar: These are all lies! Give me your phone now! I'm going to prove to you that I can do this.
Eli: Fine. Here.
Saturday, July 21, 2018
Olena
I have several friends in L'viv Ukraine, all of whom I met when I lived there as a Mormon missionary in 2003 and 2004. Usually I try to see as many of these people as possible when I'm in the area, but for some reason it just happened to be really difficult this time around.
Some of them were out traveling near the Black Sea for summer vacation. A couple of them have disappeared from social media. Some have moved.
Olena was the first person I met in L'viv. I had been in the country for six weeks when I was sent out to that city from the outskirts of Kyiv. I felt like I had been moved to a fairy-tale land. L'viv's architecture was so far from anything familiar that it sort of felt like it was operating in its very own reality.
Olena was in her upper 40s and she had two youngish children. I went to her apartment and she welcomed us in. She was tall and very thin, with long black hair and an almost cheesily cliche Eastern European face.
She didn't speak a word of English and I spoke very little Ukrainian at the time. After I sat down in her kitchen she handed me a glass of something I described that night in my journal as tasting like "someone milked a tree."
Some of them were out traveling near the Black Sea for summer vacation. A couple of them have disappeared from social media. Some have moved.
Olena was the first person I met in L'viv. I had been in the country for six weeks when I was sent out to that city from the outskirts of Kyiv. I felt like I had been moved to a fairy-tale land. L'viv's architecture was so far from anything familiar that it sort of felt like it was operating in its very own reality.
Olena was in her upper 40s and she had two youngish children. I went to her apartment and she welcomed us in. She was tall and very thin, with long black hair and an almost cheesily cliche Eastern European face.
She didn't speak a word of English and I spoke very little Ukrainian at the time. After I sat down in her kitchen she handed me a glass of something I described that night in my journal as tasting like "someone milked a tree."
Tuesday, July 17, 2018
To Become a Star
We had to vacate our Airbnb in Kyiv by 11:00, which was unfortunate because our train didn't leave for L'viv until about 12 hours later. Despite our best attempts to pack lightly, at least two out of the three of us decided to bring with them enough clothes to start a new life over here. I'll let you guess which two out of the three are guilty by smelling us.
I thought the best option might be to wander to the hostel down the street and ask them if we could just pay a little to store our bags for the day. I should have been deterred by the hundreds of google reviews that warned me of the five-flight stair climb and very average Eastern European customer service. But I wasn't. And when I entered the place and asked my simple question I was met with several eye rolls and half a dozen phone calls to Stalin-knows-where, during which the hostel employees attempted to negotiate an international peace treaty for the foreign travelers in front of them.
When homegirl got off the phone she informed me that we would have to rent a room for the day, which was $10, but then she warned me that she wouldn't dare leave anything whatsoever at that hostel because "it's more dangerous than prison in this place."
I asked her to repeat herself several times, sure that there had been a miscommunication. But each time she did, the warning became starker, finally ending with "I don't even bring my wallet to work."
I thought the best option might be to wander to the hostel down the street and ask them if we could just pay a little to store our bags for the day. I should have been deterred by the hundreds of google reviews that warned me of the five-flight stair climb and very average Eastern European customer service. But I wasn't. And when I entered the place and asked my simple question I was met with several eye rolls and half a dozen phone calls to Stalin-knows-where, during which the hostel employees attempted to negotiate an international peace treaty for the foreign travelers in front of them.
When homegirl got off the phone she informed me that we would have to rent a room for the day, which was $10, but then she warned me that she wouldn't dare leave anything whatsoever at that hostel because "it's more dangerous than prison in this place."
I asked her to repeat herself several times, sure that there had been a miscommunication. But each time she did, the warning became starker, finally ending with "I don't even bring my wallet to work."
Sunday, July 15, 2018
Kyiv's Raccoon Man
We landed in Kyiv on Saturday afternoon and found a taxi to take us to our apartment. "She's Got It" by Venus was playing on the radio.
Taxi Driver: Vat zis mean, she got it?
Eli: It means she has something special.
Taxi Driver: Vy zey not just say "she have somezing special?"
Eli: It's just a saying in English.
Taxi Driver: Vat so special about zis voman?
Eli: I don't know.
Taxi Driver: Vy he sing about her if he don't say vat so special.
Eli: Look. I haven't slept in like 40 hours. I'm incapable of engaging in philosophy at the moment.
Taxi Driver: Vat zis mean, she got it?
Eli: It means she has something special.
Taxi Driver: Vy zey not just say "she have somezing special?"
Eli: It's just a saying in English.
Taxi Driver: Vat so special about zis voman?
Eli: I don't know.
Taxi Driver: Vy he sing about her if he don't say vat so special.
Eli: Look. I haven't slept in like 40 hours. I'm incapable of engaging in philosophy at the moment.
Tuesday, July 10, 2018
Grammar Book
And don't even try to break into my house, robbers. I've got house-sitters and they're all angry former cops with complicated pasts and uncertain futures. Go break into my sister's house. She's going with me and she has a much better collection of alabaster pots and sewing supplies.
The house-sitter situation is necessary because keeping things alive at my home in July is an unrelenting job. For the last four weeks I've just been engaged in a constant loop of pot watering where I start again from the beginning the moment I finish giving a drink to the last pot. I haven't had a single break in days. I'm typing this with my toes right now. (Yes, Tami is literate).
Finding a responsible house-sitter is a challenge because it requires you to make a list of all of the people you know who have nothing going on in their lives and can easily pick up and move into your place for as long as needed, and then identify one person on that list who is reliable.
Thank God for all of those former cops.
Sunday, July 8, 2018
Won't You Be My Neighbor
My two older sisters hated it when Trolley started making its way back to Mr. Rogers's house from Make Believe Land.
Every episode had the same simple format. Mr. Rogers would come through the front door of his tiny and simple home, singing about it being "a beautiful day in the neighborhood," asking viewers to be his neighbor, and changing into a sweater and more comfortable shoes. He would introduce the simple concept of the day. Music, or creativity, or sadness, or inclusivity, or whatever. Various cast regulars and special guests would come by to help demonstrate the lesson of the day. Then Trolley would go off to Make Believe Land.
Every episode had the same simple format. Mr. Rogers would come through the front door of his tiny and simple home, singing about it being "a beautiful day in the neighborhood," asking viewers to be his neighbor, and changing into a sweater and more comfortable shoes. He would introduce the simple concept of the day. Music, or creativity, or sadness, or inclusivity, or whatever. Various cast regulars and special guests would come by to help demonstrate the lesson of the day. Then Trolley would go off to Make Believe Land.
Thursday, July 5, 2018
International Spy
Skylar treats state-issued IDs like you might treat chapstick.
Don't remember where you put the last one? That's ok. Just grab another the next time you're in the checkout line at the grocery store.
Keep one in your car. One at your desk. Send a couple through the washing machine in a dirty pair of pants.
The problems with this habit, though, are obvious.
State-issued IDs are not chapstick.
They are supremely more inconvenient to collect. And the more you have, the more likely your identity will be stolen.
Since I met Skylar in 2015, I have seen him lose at least 4 driver's licenses. That's one a year, y'all. And you know I don't even say that.
Don't remember where you put the last one? That's ok. Just grab another the next time you're in the checkout line at the grocery store.
Keep one in your car. One at your desk. Send a couple through the washing machine in a dirty pair of pants.
The problems with this habit, though, are obvious.
State-issued IDs are not chapstick.
They are supremely more inconvenient to collect. And the more you have, the more likely your identity will be stolen.
Since I met Skylar in 2015, I have seen him lose at least 4 driver's licenses. That's one a year, y'all. And you know I don't even say that.
Sunday, July 1, 2018
You guys. Jurassic World. There's another one.
Last week Meg told me there was a new Jurassic World movie out, and then she threatened me to see it with her.
This is an activity that makes sense for us because our relationship is basically based off of the first Jurassic World movie. When that one came out I wrote a recap about it that was, how do I put this, somewhat critical. If you go to that post and look for Meg's contribution in the comments section, you'll find the birth of our friendship. Just three years ago we were commiserating over hating Jurassic World and now I'm 8th in line to get her children.
Mark my words: I will do what it takes to ascend that list.
Which is maybe why Saturday afternoon I showed up at Century 16 movie theater at 3:00 in the afternoon to meet Meg. What happened over the next two hours will be hard to explain. But I'll try.
This is an activity that makes sense for us because our relationship is basically based off of the first Jurassic World movie. When that one came out I wrote a recap about it that was, how do I put this, somewhat critical. If you go to that post and look for Meg's contribution in the comments section, you'll find the birth of our friendship. Just three years ago we were commiserating over hating Jurassic World and now I'm 8th in line to get her children.
Mark my words: I will do what it takes to ascend that list.
Which is maybe why Saturday afternoon I showed up at Century 16 movie theater at 3:00 in the afternoon to meet Meg. What happened over the next two hours will be hard to explain. But I'll try.
