Are my eyes really brown?

Given the title of my last post, the following quote from Casablanca seems appropriate:


Major Strasser: We have a complete dossier on you: Richard Blaine, American, age 37. Cannot return to his country. The reason is a little vague. We also know what you did in Paris, Mr. Blaine, and also we know why you left Paris.
[hands the dossier to Rick]
Major Strasser: Don't worry, we are not going to broadcast it.
Rick: [reading] Are my eyes really brown?

Now, before I begin, I realize the irony in having this post right next to the one wherein I extolled the virtues of my favorite system of transportation, Trax (and I still love you, T! We'll always have Paris/the weeks before yesterday!) yet Fate gave me a pretty cruel slap in the face yesterday, while Coincidence laughed in my face and Irony smirked on the sidelines. I also realize that you, faithful readers, are just as likely to laugh along with them and make fun of me rather than commiserate, but here I go anyway.

So Wednesday, Matt came up to Sandy to exercise with me, cook dinner, and do some homework. It was lovely. Until Thursday morning, that is, when I realized I had accidentally left my wallet in his car, which was now back in Orem. I had already broken the law by this point in driving to the Trax station. But I thought I was all right to use Trax since, some time ago, I had taken my bus pass out of my wallet and put it in a different pocket of my purse, for convenience.

I had no trouble on my way to work. By this time I had called Matt and he promised to come up after work with the wallet. On my home from work, however, DISASTER STRUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Ok. So maybe not quite disaster. But I will call your attention to the following unlikely scenarios that took place:

FACT A: Now and then, Trax officials are supposed to walk along the cars and make sure everyone on board has paid and can prove they have a ticket and all that.

FACT B: In the past month of riding Trax, this has only happened to me ONCE.

FACT C: When it did, all I did was pull out my bus card and the official barely glanced at it.

So back to yesterday. Here come the officials. One of them, of course, immediately stops at me and asks to see my I.D. along with my UTA card. I reach automatically for the wallet.

IT'S NOT THERE.

I panic. I have no I.D. I do have an employee card around my neck, but I've forgotten about that (it's not picture I.D. anyway, so it probably wouldn't work) and the only thing I have with my name on it is my checkbook. Sooo.... the following conversation ensues.

"You don't have any kind of I.D. at all?" The employee gives me an incredulous look, complete with raised eyebrow.

"No..." I stammer. "This is really the only day this month I've been without it. I left it in my boyfriend's car last night but he's coming to give it to me today."

(Like he's never heard THAT one before. Why do I keep babbling on? There's no way he's going to believe me. I don't even believe myself. What are the odds that the ONE day I forget my I.D., the official shows up?)

"You do know you have to have I.D., right? So you can prove this is really you." He's waving my bus pass in the air now, accusingly.

"Yes, of course."

Actually, I didn't really know this. I've used the bus in Orem for the past 5 years without ever having to show any kind of I.D. beyond the bus pass card.

"You have so many bags. You really don't have I.D.?" The employee shakes his head - he can't believe that anyone capable of speech could reach the level of stupidity required to forget one's I.D. when riding the train.

"N-no."

(JUST KIDDING, I HAVE IT IN MY HAT!!!! HA HA HA HA!!!!!!)

Shamefaced, I attempt to hide my pitiful purse, lunch bag, and book, the extent of the "many" bags to which he refers.

"Ok. About how tall are you?" He pulls out a mouthpiece.

(Uh-oh. I'm getting arrested. He's citing me. Why don't I know my height!!!???")

"Um, 5'4...?"

"And your weight?" He pauses.

?!!!?!??!!!!??????????!!!!!!!!!!!!?!??!???!?!??!!!!????????

I consider whispering it in his ear or writing it down on a piece of paper, for privacy's sake, but by now the humiliation really can't get any worse. All the passengers are listening intently.

"Um, [a three digit number]?"

I weigh quite a bit less now than what I put on my driver's license, but the employee still stares at me suspiciously.

"[Three digit number]?" He says loudly, to make up for my too-close-to-a-whispered reply.

"Y-yes." I consider giving him the 'muscle weighs more than fat, you know' spiel, but he's already off on the next question.

"Your eye color?"

"Green."

Now, I do have green eyes. I looked in the mirror at them last night, and I honestly cannot believe I ever had any doubt about their color. Yet apparently I did doubt at one time, when I was 16, because my driver's license says that they are blue.

I remember this unfortunate fact too late.

"My driver's license says they're blue, though." I pipe up, helpfully.

The employee looks suspicious.

"Why?"

"Well, my mom thinks they're blue, and she told me to put that, so I did."

Once again, I look at the employee's face and I know that to him this must sound wilder and crazier than the tale of Pecos Bill. But it's the truth, and I stick to my story when the employee reiterates his "But, why?" in disbelief, sure that I can't be serious, sure that no human being is capable of mixing up green and blue eyes.

The employee is exasperated. He puts all the information into his speaker. He hovers over my seat for the next five minutes, lecturing me on the need to always have my I.D. with me, and then, finally finally FINALLY, he hands my bus pass back to me and leaves. Apparently, fudged height, weight, and eye color withstanding, there is a Ruth Miller on record who sort of resembles me.

Those who know me will perhaps not be surprised at this point that I start to bawl uncontrollably. It's only the embarrassment of being stared at that's let me hold it in for this long. But the people on the train are hardly paying attention anymore. Most of them are very deliberately looking away, for which I can hardly blame them. Not only had I just distinguished myself as the [three digit number] pound, clueless, blue/green-eyed teller of tall tales and sob stories, but I'd also had a nose-bleed that day and hadn't washed my hair since Sunday.

Fortunately, the story ends on a happier note.

When I got home - and I can only presume it was due to the kindness of some guardian angel (mine had obviously taken the afternoon off) that I wasn't stopped and given a ticket on the 10 minute trip home - my dear, sweet boyfriend Matt was waiting for me with my wallet and a soon-to-be-drenched-in-the-tears-and-sobs-of-humiliation long-sleeved shirt when I arrived at my Sandy home. After several hours of consolation, during which he made sure to say all the right things ("It's my fault," "You're beautiful," "Of course they wouldn't arrest you - you're too cute . . ."), a much-needed 30 minute shower, and dinner, I was feeling considerably better. In fact, I almost felt well enough to stop checking my purse every five minutes to MAKE SURE that my wallet was still there. I can tell you right now that my wallet and I are going to be nearly inseparable from this point forward. Even closer than me and Trax. This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Here's looking at you, Trax

So, I'm addicted to Trax.

As most of you know, I am living in Sandy during this semester, commuting every day to Salt Lake City to my job as an editorial intern in the Church Office Building on Temple Square. It's pretty much the best job ever - I get to make pretty programs for the daily organ recitals in the Tabernacle, edit guidelines on how to administer the Church's Facebook pages, and wear a skirt every day (okay, so I hate that last part). Overall, though, I love it. I love seeing the temple all lit up in the mornings and evenings, I love taking a shortcut through the Joseph Smith Memorial Building on my way to and from the Church Office Building, I love how my co-workers are always cheerful and funny and creative (one guy has already made me a balloon purple poodle and a blue cobra, and lent me a pretty snazzy looking Mr. Potatohead for my bare desk), and I love going downstairs to eat lunch in the cafeteria while the piano man (Why, of COURSE there's a guy playing the piano in the cafeteria!!!) plays "Some Enchanted Evening" and "On the Street Where You Live."

One thing I do not love is the commute. Though I get free parking in the Conference Center, the time lost, the wearing of my nerves, and the price of gas are significant drawbacks, and after only two days of driving to work, I determined to take the plunge and experiment with Trax. And I LOVED IT.

Oh, Trax! How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love how punctual you are. Only once has a train ever been more than one minute late. Sometimes, the knowledge of this fact is the only thing that motivates me to get up every morning at 6, to the admiration of my roommates, who view any hour in the morning before 10 am as "ungodly."

I love how many seats and doors there are in your carriages, how I always have a place to sit and curl up with my book for a heavenly 30 minutes, neither too long nor too short. I love how non-crowded you are in comparison to the Metro stations in D.C., where I lived in constant fear of losing my purse or my foot at each entry and exit.

I love the cute little signs and names of stations along the rails (Fashion Place West? Meadowbrook? Ballpark? Sooooooo cute). It does make me ever so fondly recall the Foggy Bottom Metro stop in D.C.

I love how cheap you are - my student bus card from last semester is good for the rest of the school year, despite my having graduated, and no one ever looks at it, so I could probably get away with riding for free, but that wouldn't be right (though it would be ironic when I'm doing it so I can get to my job AT THE CHURCH). My biggest reason for not using the Metro more in D.C. was due to the cost (the doors would actually tell you how much money you were losing EVERY TIME you went through them. I eventually couldn't deal with the guilt anymore), but you have taken away that burden. Bless you, Trax.

I love how warm you are, especially after I figured out that I shouldn't sit so close to the door if I don't want to get my feet blasted with cold air every time the door opens.

I love how convenient you are. It takes me about 6 minutes to get from my house to the Midvale Center station, and I already have a "usual" parking spot that is close and nearly always empty.

I love, yes I do, even the crazy people who are always there without fail to entertain the rest of us. Whether it be the Sherlock-Holmes-coat-wearing man with a Mark Twain hairstyle excitedly informing me about the state of Morgan Freeman's left hand, or a group of fast-speaking Brazilians (fortunately, they all swear fluent American) whose faces and gestures were so expressive you couldn't tell if they were about to break into a song or a fist-fight, or even the gentleman who screamed "The ALMIGHTY!!!!!" three times (possibly with a megaphone) in the back part of the train. There's plenty of fun and excitement on Trax, should I ever forget my book or should Matt be unavailable to text me on the ride.

This week, I missed my train on Tuesday, and subsequently spent an additional unplanned 2 1/2 hours in my car. I realized then how truly addicted and devoted I have become to Trax. So much so that I have already showed up early enough twice to catch the train BEFORE my regular train. Which is even more wonderful, because it's less crowded and I get to work early and I get to see a faint hint of moonlight around the temple steeples which is just gorgeous.

So here I am, loving my third week at my internship, loving the money I save in gas and the time I gain in reading and free entertainment twice a day. I owe it all to you, Trax.

December 2010 Media Inventory

So . . . apparently it's almost February. And here I was, still thinking for some reason that we were in December. Could it have something to do with all the cold weather and left-out Christmas decorations and late-coming Christmas blog posts and lack of any other major holidays in January?

But anyway, December is over, and so I present to you my final media inventory for the year 2010.

Movies:

White Christmas: I thought this movie was better than I thought it would be, but not as good as everyone thinks it is.

Fruitbaskets: Not a real movie, per se, just a few anime episodes. They were kind of cute and fun and wacky and Asian.

Miracle on 34th Street: The new one. I think. Or was it the old one? Oh my goodness, December really WAS forever ago.

The Importance of Being Earnest: Hilarious, hilarious movie. I am, of course, a fan of the play, and I can't believe I haven't seen this before. Reese Witherspoon and Colin Firth, I love you both so much.

Despicable Me: Matt and I really wanted to go see something at the dollar theater, and this was the only thing we could agree on. It was mildly entertaining, but even the opportunity to snuggle with Matt throughout the film didn't convince me into liking it enough to see it again, pay money for it, or spend any more of my time thinking about it.

Elf: I have seen clips of this movie every year since it came out, but this was the first time I actually saw the whole thing. Funny. Very, very funny.

A Christmas Carol: The new "Jim Carrey" version, and the only "Carol" I saw this year, which, considering there are about 5,000 and I usually watch 20, is astounding. I liked it a lot - they did things a bit differently than all the other versions I had seen, which was kind of fun. And of course, it's just so...Christmasy. If you don't like it, you're Scrooge.

It's a Wonderful Life: And if you don't like this movie, you're dead inside. Period.

The Snowman: We watch this every Christmas Eve in my family. It's a silent film about a boy who makes a snowman that comes to life. The music is just beautiful and the story is sweet. Plus, it's Christmas Eve. Duh, I love it.

A Child's Christmas in Wales: We've watched this movie every Christmas Eve ever since I can remember. And every single one of us loves it to the point of devotion. Really, it's almost too sacred to talk about in a blog post. You just have to see it for yourselves. For 22 years. Every Christmas Eve.

Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time: We saw this on Christmas Day, which makes it special. It was kind of exaggerated and dramatic and overblown and ridiculous, but it was also fun and exciting and interesting and entertaining. So yeah, I liked it. But I must confess that "October Sky" ruined Jake Gyllenhaal for me, just because he was SO GOOD I don't want to think of him as any other character.

Toy Story: Confession - I watched this movie only once, as a 10 or 11-year old in the karate studio in Georgia (waiting for my older siblings in the adult class to finish). And I hated it. Sid was just so nasty, so mean, so terrifyingly ugly and grotesque! Despite seeing and loving every Pixar movie since as an adult, it's taken me this long to accept the fact that I needed to give Toy Story another chance. So, thanks to my Matthew darling :) for finally forcing me to sit through it and enjoy it.

Toy Story 2: I enjoyed it more than the first, probably because I had never seen it before and didn't have to deal with the years of negative memories. And because it was just . . . better.

Books:

None. I'm sorry. There were finals and deadlines and . . . Matt. Though Matt and I did read a couple of short stories by Patrick McManus and some Father Brown mysteries by G. K. Chesterton. They were good.

Theater:

Next to Normal: This was one of the last mask clubs of the semester. Probably the last one I went to as an undergraduate. And it was AWESOME. I had to look up all the songs afterwards (turns out they had to take out A LOT of swear words) and was humming them for weeks. And weeks. Definitely one of my favorite mask clubs ever.

Small Victories at Work

1. Yesterday at 1 p.m. I was desperately craving yogurt - any kind, generally, but peach specifically. The vending machine had never accepted my cash before (Your money's no good here, ha ha! No really, it's no good), but this time it did. Miracle #1. The second miracle was that I randomly selected one of the yogurts I couldn't see, hoping it didn't turn out to be mint almond-flavored fudge delight or something. Hallelujah - peach!

2. I was warned repeatedly that my mouse would run low on batteries several times throughout the semester (yeah, I'm probably going to keep calling it the semester until I get out of college-mode). It did. And the secretary was OUT. So what did I do? I relocated the new batteries, put them in, and waved the new mouse in front of the computer until it rewarded me with a green light and a balloon. I feel so self-reliant.

3. There was some kind of gluey thing on my keyboard. I couldn't use a pen, obviously, or even a pencil to get it off (turns out pencils work on more than paper - WOW!), so what did I do? Unfolded a paper clip and used THAT. Brilliant.

I might add to this list later. We shall see.

Washington Seminar, Revisited

Since starting my four-month internship with the Church Publications department of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Salt Lake City, I am having definite flashbacks to my internship with the National Museum of Women in the Arts in D.C. Sometimes this is not always pleasant.

For example,

a. I start falling asleep after lunch. Staying awake is a constant battle between the hours of 1 and 5 pm. Let alone getting work done. Definitely reminds me of some long cold days in D.C.

b. I am secluded in a poorly-lit area that is cold and on a different floor from all the other interns, who work on the magazines on the floor above me. It's not quite as bad as being the only person in sight for two hallways in D.C., but I wish I had some light. Or some music.

c. I have to wear a dress every day to work. I do not like this. Especially in the cold mornings when I'm slipping down the driveway in my shoes and the wind is freezing my legs through my skirt.

d. I dread doing the same thing day after day in the same place day after day. I even got tired of my five or so classes after a semester. At least I was always moving around and outside at college.

On the bright side...

a. I am surrounded by so many historic, beautiful buildings! I am definitely going to spend some more time visiting places up on Temple Square. Now I must remember to bring the camera from home.

b. Everyone is so NICE. Not that people weren't in D.C., but seriously, everyone is SO NICE. As far as a good work environment, I don't think you could get much better.

c. It doesn't smell like coffee. Although I kind of like that smell. Hmm. I must think more about this.

d. I'm getting paid again. More this time. A definite plus!

e. Riding Trax reminds me of riding the Metro. Only we have to wait outside and it's cold. But I think I am going to become a regular user. It's so nice to not have to worry about driving on the freeway every day.

f. It is SO nice to be done with school for a semester. When I go home, I can do whatever I want. Well, after I do my laundry, clean my room, go the gym, shower, and eat dinner. See? Whatever I want.

g. The interns will be getting together every Friday for a little educational outing (they call it "intern enlightenment"). It's like a mini-holiday!

h. Best of all, I get to come home every weekend to visit the family and Matt. That is a definite perk this semester has over the D.C. one. There's nothing like leaving your family for a little while to make you appreciate them. I love you guys! (P.S. Stay away from my stuff if you want to live)