Berry Farms of Payson

Yesterday got away from me. But thanks to unemployment, this was no problem. I had plans for job applications, cleaning, and other noble pursuits. But then we realized it was raspberry season.

I whisked a very tired husband off to Payson. (P.S. Payson, your rodeo billboards need some design help and some editing. Call me.) When we picked cherries a few weeks ago, they passed along the number for another farm nearby. This farm turned out to be the best deal.

We walked the path along the grape vines to the wind break and started on the north raspberry bushes. I never realized how raspberries can be kind of hidden. You have to check underneath and below to find them sometimes. We gathered four pounds of raspberries and then two pounds of black berries, which were gigantic, beautiful, and squishy.

Six rows down a father and a son split the singing parts. One calling out: Ba ba black sheep. And the other answering: Yes sir. Yes sir.

Dark clouds rolled in and sprinkled a bit of rain. And the wind changed and suddenly farm life smelled less lovely. A rooster kept crying though it was way past noon. We met an old dog named Cam, and I found a black cat who was napping/hiding.  Fresh flowers for the table stopped with my internship, so we picked sunflowers off the side of the road and brought them home. We started freezing the berries and napped.

And though my usual habits say, "Why don't you get more done?" I think this day was fairly perfect.

If you're interested in picking raspberries and blackberries at $2.50 a pound, give the Phelps family a call. They also have peaches and other good things. 

Unemployment and How It's Good for Me

Back in the lavish days when we splurged on Disneyland.

If you can't tell from my post titles as of late, I am currently unemployed, in the true sense of the word. I am not on summer vacation. I am not taking a break from school. I'm not even taking a break for myself. I am unemployed because my yearlong internship/paid full-time job ended, as I knew it would, before I could secure another position. 

This has raised a variety of emotions. Over the past week, there has been much rejoicing about being unemployed. Though my internship was lovely (filled with nice people and generally nice tasks), it came with a two- to four-hour daily commute that tortured my soul when coupled with an eight-hour workday and a fifteen-minute lunch break.

I'm savoring the time to write, to clean, and to sew on all the buttons that had been waiting, estranged from their proper counterparts, until I had time for little things again. For the first time in my married life (all four months of it), I get to be home for real (having only a few hours, mostly marked by exhaustion from the day, didn't really count). Life lately has felt like a never-ending Saturday, without all the stress I had before when it was the only day to get something done. Taking this break right now is healing my soul from a lot of things.

Most of the time.

The other times I cry and panic and worry. I love having a job. I love doing things that matter to people. And I very much want to find a good job. When these concerns surface, they do so in a big way.

About a week before the end of my previous job, Super called me at work to see if my sister-in-law, a new BYU freshman, could stay with us for a few weeks. This sent me into an emotional freak out. (Not your fault, Bek. I like you! Let me explain.) I felt so worried about it because I had no idea what my life would look like by then. Would I be home all day? Would we need to move? Would I be commuting again? Not being able to picture myself three weeks from then terrified me.

Today, I've been reading the Apron Stage, a lovely blog to which my other sister-in-law Sarah contributed. The first posts of hers I read were actually the last ones (here and here), in which she announces the end of the Apron Stage blog and her own life changes. She says seven times "I do not know."

I wanted a scripture of my own that deals with these types of uncertainties—Sarah's past ones I'm reliving as I read (even though I know what happens next, generally, in the three years that follow that last post) and for my own.

I found this: after hearing a soul-shaking sermon from King Benjamin, a prophet in the Book of Mormon, his people say the following.

And we, ourselves, also, through the infinite goodness of God, and the manifestations of his Spirit, have great views of that which is to come; and were it expedient, we could prophesy of all things.

And it is the faith which we have had on the things which our king has spoken unto us that has brought us to this great knowledge, whereby we do rejoice with such exceedingly great joy.

These people are very happy and very certain about their future. But I don't think they were anymore certain about what the next day, week, or month would look like. They were certain that God would receive them safe and sound. I like that. As much as I'd like to see one month from now, "great views of that which is to come" might cover even better ground.

Day 3 of My Unemployment

Jacob and I played the Quiet Game.

Round 1: Katie.
Round 2: Jacob.
Round 3: A draw.

Unfortunate Cake Delay

In great news, this Cake Week will not end yet! (Why yes, I have all kinds of power when it comes to extending weeks. Seven days is highly relative.)

The sad news is that the delay on making the cake is happening because our car broke down (that makes three times since our engagement, if you don't count the flat tire). So, alas, I have not yet made it to the store for ingredients.

I think this waiting is making me more pumped though to get started. I've got cake pans anxiously anticipating their next huggable friend.

Anyone want to guess what kind of a cake it will be?

I'll give you a hint: it involves Super's favorite kind of berry. Feel free to guess away in the comments.

In other news: in addition to the car dying, there was another demise in our household—Devin, the stormtrooper spatula, who melted to my mom's pan (so three demises if we count the pan; we must like the number three).

Don't worry though. We've replaced him with a clone spatula from Williams Sonoma. It's like Devin was never even gone. Honestly, he is a great spatula. He's even a better spatula than he is a stormtrooper.

Next to Devin, these people are my favorite stormtroopers.

I Believe in Chacos

Yesterday, my Chacos came out. Here's to the next eight months.

The world just got so much brighter. So long coldest winter. Thanks for being good to me.

Aviator Glasses on My Face, Tambourine on My Head, and Confidence in My Heart

I've been thinking a lot about how I've changed over the past year. So far, I've come up with little to share, but I did dig up this beauty while cleaning. 

In eleventh grade, Ms. Sanderson, my favorite English teacher, assigned us to describe ourselves using this Mastercard ad. Hopefully it's big enough for you to catch the detail. I'm surprised at how little things have changed since then.

Saturday to-do list

1. Lay in bed. Check.
2. Clean. Check.
3. Attempt to save the world by perfecting blueberry muffins. Check.
4. Get back in bed. Check.

My day is done.

Want to try saving the world via muffin too? Here is the number one secret: get a muffin top pan. Give into the fact that the top of the muffin is the best part, and grab one of these pans. I got my mom two for Christmas last year, and then I took one back from her this year. I'm so good at math; it's remarkable.


I just used the WinCo blueberry muffin mix; added random amounts of lemon juice, nutmeg, and vanilla; and then made a little crumble by microwaving a few tablespoons each of butter, quick oats, and brown sugar. You can't really have too much crumble on here though.

Have I perfected the muffin? Not at all. But man, that was easy and pleasing.

Why is everyone writing about expectations?

Well, because they influence us so frequently. I was surprised that in all my blog reading this evening at least three separate bloggers were writing on expectations.

This one was by far the best, having this tough quote, "Expectations are what cause sorrow."

A timely triumph

Over the past few days, I've been feeling stressed about a to-do list that won't fit around all the fun time I've planned with friends. Here's what I did about it.

My own case of perfectionism

President Samuelson, the president of BYU, stood up and said these words:

"I am grateful to add my welcome and greeting to you at the beginning of an exciting fall semester. This is a wonderful time of year. We hope you have had a productive, if not restful, summer and a welcome change of pace to help prepare for the challenging and exciting work of the weeks ahead. You are not yet too far behind in your course work, and the prospects for this fall are bright. This has the promise of a terrific year. It will be an even better year for each of us personally if we can avoid making unnecessary or foolish personal mistakes. You may believe I am talking only about slothfulness or Honor Code violations. Equally concerning to me is the rather common problem of perfectionism."

As he said them, I was believing I was in for just that: a talk about how I should do more and be better. And I couldn't listen to that because I was already sick in bed, laid up because my worry and stress had ground down my spirit so much that my body caved to the perfectionist in me.

My heart rejoiced though as he said what he was really going to talk about was the very ill that was making me throw up: perfectionism.

It's such an attractive trap to think you need to be everything, all of the time. It's understandable that we think that way, but we mustn't.

"We may not be happy with our deficiencies, but we also should not be incapacitated by them," President Samuelson says. I know what that feels like, and I'm learning what it feels like to overcome it.

"We teach the importance of self-reliance and self-sufficiency. I believe if you look carefully at what, for example, I myself and others have said and written, you can find ample evidence that we endorse these notions. There are times, however, when these cardinal strengths can become handicapping sins. Just as a young mother or father reaches out a hand of encouragement and support for a young baby who is beginning to think about walking, so our Savior and His Father do the same for us as we begin to think about risking a quest to get on the road to eventual perfection. Remember, while we mortals may tease each other on occasion, it is not in the personality or approach of our Redeemer. That is, He never pulls back his hand when it is extended. True, you and I, like Peter walking on the Sea of Galilee, might lose faith and withdraw ourselves, but God never does and never will withdraw the hand and support offered. But, and this is really a significant qualification, because of the necessity of agency and choice, we must be the one to grasp, figuratively or literally, the extended hand."

My dear friend Kent says that we have to ask God what areas we should be improving in, rather than beating ourselves up about the millions of good things we should be doing. He always promises that when we ask that, God will tell us.

Though I've believed that for a long time, I've struggled to make that transition from trying to do everything to really listening for what Heavenly Father would have me do. For me, it comes when I stop and ponder on the lessons He's been slipping in here and there. Now that I know what He'd have me work on, everything else becomes more manageable as it falls in its proper place.

This comic is wonderful.

And, it's how I feel today.

http://wondermark.com/791/

Back at the castle...

While your poor hearts have been aching for more posts from me, I've been battling around school, work, and life, thinking about what I can do in the way of writing.

Right now, I'm writing an essay for the David O. McKay essay competition, which is drawing a good chunk of my writing energy at the moment. That will all be wrapping up soon, and in the mean time, I'll be favoring you with the occasional link, photo, or thought.

While this may barely whet your appetite, there are some exciting things to look forward to. Starting in mid-February, the blog will have a new and improved look! Also, I'm going to be announcing an exciting new thing that I'm going to be doing. I'm hoping that you readers will join me in the fun, by which I mean, I'm not announcing an engagement or anything. Regardless though, I think you'll like it.

So for now, I'll just share this awesome photo by my friend Emma Koide. Super and his roommates have a tradition of taking ridiculous roommate photos. I deeply approve of this tradition.

The French may disagree, but I believe in capitalizing Tuesday

Today is Tuesday. Let's think about that, since I keep thinking about what it means to be in a Tuesday.

Even the word itself sounds curious, like the possessive form of the infinitive verb, "To's day." Who would a Tuesday belong to?

Or a better question: who wants to own a Tuesday? Does anyone ever rejoice in the promise Tuesday holds? Could Tuesday ever approximate the way we wake up on a Saturday and relish the possibility of free time? Can we jump out of bed on a Tuesday as if it were a Monday and we are well prepared for the week? Is there a sense of relief to be found in Tuesday like the relief that comes with the dawning of Friday?

I think the answer to these questions is no. Tuesdays simply aren't like other days.

Could Tuesday really be the plainest day of the week? If nothing exciting were allowed to happen on a Tuesday, that would amount to one-seventh of our lives being spent in more nothingness that we previously imagined we were spending. 

But, I doubt Tuesday is a day for nothing. Rather, Tuesday is a day for the unexpected, a day to be filled, a day to change everything, and a day to become something different. Extraordinary events need ordinary days to come up during. What a great space Tuesday is for that kind of thing.

Surely God did not make the days to be just arbitrary divisions. He purposed them for wise things. I like to think that Elder Wirthlin would agree that our days mean something, and Tuesdays come in all degrees.