Liar Contest Answers and the Winner!

It’s time to announce the winner of the Liar Meme/Contest. If you missed it, here is a breif explanation: I wrote 7 statements about myself, 6 were true, and one was a lie. In order to have a chance to win, you had to correctly pick out the lie. Nine people millions of people entered, but there can only be one winner. I purposefully made it hard, so that hopefully everyone had a more or less of an equal chance, whether we’ve been friends for years, not seen each other for years, or have never met. However, before I announce the winner I am giving you the truth (or fib) behind each of the statements.

Option D:

I know of a family whose last name is Christmas. They named one of their daughters Mary.

Unfortunately, I don’t have much more to tell you about the Christmas family, or Mary because I’ve never actually met them. All I know other than their names, is that they lived in the 1800’s in Wales. I found them while looking through genealogy archives. No one guessed that this was the lie. Which is good, because it’s true.

Option C:

I’ve slept overnight at IKEA.

Despite IKEA’s popularity,there actually aren’t that many of them around. You can only find them in 18 of the 50 states, and usually only near large metropolitan areas. So when one goes in in your area, it’s a BIG deal. They hold a huge celebration, people camp out for several days, they give away lots of free stuff, government officials give speeches, etc. So, when it was announced that an IKEA was going in near Salt Lake City, it was an opportunity a friend and I couldn’t pass up. We had both been SAHMs for about 2 years and it was about time to have an adventure without the kiddos. So the night before the big grand opening, we left our little ones with our loving husbands, packed up some camping gear and headed off to the IKEA parking lot! Yahoo!

It was actually a lot of fun. We made friends with our “tent neighbors” and stayed up sharing goodies, playing games and talking. In the morning, there were olympic gymnasts performing on giant trampolines, music, the governor and various others spoke, there were tv and radio stations everywhere, and the line to get in looked miles long. While waiting in line, we were treated to free Swedish candies and pastries, lots of free promotional stuff (ie. frisbee, compass, mini tool set, etc), and a gift card with a random amount on it. Also, while we were waiting in line, a local radio station journalist snapped our picture and interviewed me. It was an awful interview as the radio journalist thought we were all a bit “off our rockers” for spending the night in a parking lot, and she made that quite clear with her questions. Thankfully, my interview didn’t make the final cut for broadcast, but they posted the photo on their website. I posted it below, too. (I’m in the brown hoodie.)

After all of that, we were finally let in the store. All that I bought was a bathroom mat. It’s not because I didn’t want to buy more, it’s that we were there for the whole adventure, and I could come back and shop anytime. It’s something I’d do again in a heartbeat.

Option B:

I spent a summer working as a counselor at a youth fat camp.

It was 2001, and it was time to look for a job for the summer. A friend suggested we do something different. Very different. When we found job openings to be counselors at a fat camp in the Catskills in New York, we decided to apply. Someone called within a few days and interviewed me over the phone.

“Do you have any experience with kids?” The woman asked in her heavy New York accent.

“Well, I’m the oldest of six kids, I volunteer at an elementary…”

“SIX KIDS!! Ok, that’s plenty of experience!” She interrupted. “Do you have any experience working at a summer camp?”

“Umm, well I was a camp leader at Camp Shalom last year…” I replied. Camp Shalom is a camp for Mormon teen girls, it’s not really a “summer camp” per se, as each group only stays there one week. However, the interviewer interrupted me again.

“Camp Shalom? Very good!” She sounded impressed. I was very confused by this, and it wasn’t until much later that I had any idea why. I found out that the camp I was applying to was overwhelmingly Jewish, (including the woman who was interviewing me). Later that summer, the woman who interviewed me once remarked that she was wary of hiring Utahns, because she was afraid of Mormons trying to convert the campers. Hahaha, I’m thinking that the name “Camp Shalom” might have given her the idea that I worked at a Jewish camp. Besides, I had no plans to hold nightly missionary discussions in our bunk or anything of the sort.

Anyway, we both got the job. I was now officially the counselor in charge of the 11 year old girls AND the tie-dye instructor. Wohoo! Tie-Dye! I promptly went to the library to learn the art of tie-dying, because I really had no idea how to do it.

I could write 50 different blog entries just entailing the experiences I had at the camp, but this post is already getting too long. So in short: I spent most of the summer with rainbow dyed hands from working with tie-dye all day. I ate horrid food almost everyday for three months, it wasn’t bad because it was diet food, it was just gross. I comforted Michael Tyson’s daughter, Mikel, after another girl in our bunk taunted her with:”what are you going to do, bite off my ear?” I let many tween girls cry on my shoulder that summer, because: they missed their parents, they didn’t like it there (I didn’t blame them, it was a poorly maintained and run camp), they were hungry, they wished that boys liked them, etc. It was definitely an interesting summer.

Above: Some of the kids at the camp. They’re dressed in blue for a camp competition called Color Wars. Don’t they look thrilled?

Sorry, Kathleen & Paige, it’s true, I worked for a summer at a youth fat camp.

Option G:

I had tenative plans to be at the World Trade Center on 9/11/2001, but luckily, my accomodations fell through.

After the camp ended, the camp director said he would pay an extra sum to anyone who would stay an extra two weeks to clean and repair the camp for next year. My friend and I volunteered because we were really hoping for some extra cash so we could explore and enjoy Manhattan for a few weeks before we left. If we stayed to help clean the camp, this would have put our flight home on September 12, 2001. We planned all of the things we wanted to see and do, which included our plan of going to the World Trade Center the day before we left to watch the sunrise. However, the camp director decided against having extra help so we left the camp right after it ended. We planned to stay with two other friends for the extra amount of time, but both of those plans fell through eventually as well. Without the extra cash, or a free place to stay, we were only able to stay in Mahattan for a week after the camp ended and we flew back to Salt Lake City at the end of August.

Luckily no one guessed this one, because it’s true.

Option E:

My television debut was on the Ricki Lake Show.

This happened during the week we spent in Manhattan. We were crossing the street on Broadway when we heard someone yelling our names. We looked around wondering how in the world anyone in New York City would know us. It turned out it was a group of some of the other counselors from the camp and they were in an SUV stopped at the red light right right behind us. We jumped into their car before the light turned green.

They explained to us that one of them happened to be a friend of one of the producers of the Ricki Lake Show. They had tickets to that day’s show and invited us to come along. Hahaha, so of course we went with them.

When we got to the studio, we were ushered past everyone else who had to wait in line, because the producer was expecting us. We got a backstage tour, t-shirts and front row seats. The topic for that day’s show was: “The International Manhunt for the World’s Sexiest Man”. Hahaha, awesome! For the next hour, we watched men from all over the world rip off their shirts, flex and say sensuous things in their native tongues to woo the all female audience. In the end, the guy from Mexico took home the “title”.

Because we were in the front row, dead center, I was on the camera a lot. So, sorry Summer, it’s true, my TV debut was on the Ricki Lake Show.

Option F:

My mother won a beauty pageant. It was at a nudist camp.

In Tom’s guess, he said he picked this one as the lie because my Mom struck him as a “Molly type”. (Molly is Utah slang for a Mormon goody-goody). While Tom is right that my Mom can be that way, what he may not know is that my Mom wasn’t always Mormon.

One summer during her childhood, her parents wanted to take the family camping. It was the 1960’s, though, so they didn’t want just any campground, no, they were going to a nudist camp!! Horray for peace, family love and nudity!

My mother recalls them pulling up to the camp and being very, very confused after being greeted by a completely naked man. She says that they spent the next couple weeks in nothing but hiking boots, doing various activities with the rest of the nude group. One of those activities was a beauty pageant, and my Mom won the title in her age category. My grandma recalls her reaction as: “I won? But what will I wear? I didn’t even bring a dress!”

My Mom was only 6 at the time, so she doesn’t remember much else about the camp. However, she does remember that if anyone sat on the “loo” for too long, it was obvious to everyone else because of the toilet seat ring imprinted on their bare butts. Hahaha, it’s probably good that she doesn’t remember much else, eh?

Sorry, Cristy, Tom & Marie. It may be ludicrous, but it’s true. My Mom won a beauty pageant at a nudist camp.

Option A:

The mayor of my town has one of my paintings in his office. It’s of a pair of cowboy boots and a cat.

The painting above doesn’t exist except as a jpg file (or maybe in my nightmares). This one was the lie. I’ve never met the local mayor. While I do like to paint (this is what was supposed to throw you off), I’ve never painted cowboy boots and a cat. So congratulations McKenna and Brenda, you guessed right.

Originally, I was going to have Curious George pick the winner’s name out of a hat, but he’s asleep, so I’m gonna try out the randomizer service that McKenna used for her contest. (I could probably just do eenie meenie miney moe, but whatever.)

And the winner is.. McKenna! (Ha ha ha, that randomizer really does pass along good karma!) Congratulations, McKenna! Send me an email with your mailing address and I’ll send you your fabulous assortment of international candy! Yay!

Thanks, everyone, for playing this game! It was fun, so I’ll definitely being doing more contests or giveaways in the future, so “stay tuned”!

Last chance to win!

So I have decided that I’m going to end my contest (that was originally of an ambiguous length) tonight. Anyone can enter, so if you haven’t entered yet, you have a few more hours. Enter here.

Also, Summer at Summer’s Nook is also having a contest. You can win a $10 gift card to Target if you can think of a funny caption to her photo. Enter here.

Free Stuff and Awards!

If you are anything like everyone I’ve ever met in my whole life, you like getting stuff for free. Luckily, I know where to get it:

-Over at Shrek + Fiona, you can win a bath and body gift set with a custom complete with a one-of-a-kind fragrance.

-You can win a $20 gift certificate to Bajio’s from Tyler’s Triumph. Mmmmm, sabroso.

-Memarie Lane is offering a piece of very pretty handsculpted jewelry. iMuy lindo!

-And finally, yours truly is offering a chance for you to win an assortment of international (and domestic) candy! You’re right, it’s the best prize offered on this blog! Enter to win here.

In other news, Summer, the lovely author of Summer’s Nook presented me with my very first bloggy award!

She awarded it to me under category of creativity, which, is very flattering considering I adore all things creative. Thank you, Summer!
I’m still pretty new to the blog world, but from what I have observed, I get to pass along the warm fuzzies by holding my own awards ceremony. Well, since I got the award for creativity, I thought I’d also give the awards out for blog creativity. (Also, I thought I’d have some fun, and exercise my creativity by making my own awards.)

The first two awards are for Visual Creativity:

Cristi of “The Mrs. Formerly Known as Mustard” and McKenna from “Shrek + Fiona” are both very deserving of the “good eye” award.
Cristi was a film major who minored in photography/art/design. The photos on her blog are just beautiful! It doesn’t stop there though, check out this recent post. (Also, I’ve noticed that I have a craving for pumpkin pie whenever I go over there as of late. Mmmmm.)

McKenna recently redesigned her blog (even though it already looked good). But now it’s even better. She’s a graphic designer AND she started her own fragrance company. (Also she get extra points for her husband’s halloween costume.)

The other award is for Culinary Creativity:

Summer of Summer’s Nook is sooo deserving of this award. She shares her delicious recipes, cooking tips, and makes wonderful cakes. However, these aren’t your typical decorated cakes as you can see from the photo below. (Don’t forget to check out her handmade jewelry, too!)

Congratulations, my creative friends!

Almost Wordless Wednesday

Cost of this picture I took of my friend and a dude:  $2

Memories of our time in NYC:  priceless

Liar Meme / Contest

Kathleen over at “so grateful to be Mormon!” tagged me for this meme/contest.  I am going to list seven things about me. Six of them are true, but one of them is a lie. What you have to do, is guess which one is the fib and then leave your guess as a comment. Like Kathleen, I’m also going to make a little contest out of it. Everyone who correctly chooses the lie, will have their name put in a hat, and I’ll let Curious George pick one out as the winner. The winner will recieve:

A Random Assortment of International Candy that I bought today from the local international market who’s owner was borderline creepy, and accused my two year old of stealing candy even though he was just being a normal two year old and picking up anything in his reach to ask if he could have it! Yay!

International candy assortment includes:

Kinder Surprise - United Kingdom,  Botan Rice Candy - Japan, Ting Ting Jahe Ginger Candy - Indonesia, Daim - Sweden, Serenata de Amor - Brazil, Sumika Milk Candy - Vietnam, Butterfinger - U.S.A., Time Out - Ireland, Choco Pie - South Korea, Baton - Brazil, Coconut hard candy- China, Turkish Delight - United Kingdom, and Snack Jelly Miniatures - Malaysia.

Ok, so on to the game:

Option A: 

The mayor of my town has one of my paintings in his office. It’s of a pair of cowboy boots and a cat.

Option B:

I spent a summer working as a counselor at a youth fat camp.

Option C:

I’ve slept overnight at IKEA.

Option D:

I know of a family whose last name is Christmas. They named one of their daughters Mary.

Option E:

My television debut was on the Ricki Lake Show.

Option F:

My mother won a beauty pageant. It was at a nudist camp.

Option G:

I had tenative plans to be at the World Trade Center on 9/11/2001, but luckily, my accomodations fell through.

Good luck! Also, if anyone else wants to do this on their blog, consider yourselves tagged and let me know so I can play along, too!

Bloom Where I’m Planted?

In one of my recent posts, I vented a bit about some of the quirks found in my home state. However, because of today’s events, I’m wondering if the state of Utah, as an entity, read the post, was offended, and is now trying to kick us out.

I better start from the beginning:

Salvador’s (my DH) ambition grows exponentially as we get older. When I first met him in high school, (that’s another story for another day), his career plan was to get an associates degree at a local state college and then get an entry level tech support job.

Fast forward 6 years. We were engaged and both attending a local state college, but he was now working towards a bachelors in computer science.

Fast forward 2 more years. We had been married for about a year when he was accepted as a transfer student to a local university. He now ultimately planned to obtain a master’s degree in Computer Science.

Fast forward again 1 more year. We now have our darling baby boy. One night, Salvador comes home and surprises me with the news that he had changed his major. Not going to change his major, he had already done it.

”What? What major did you change to?” I say in an attempted supportive but mostly frustrated voice.

”I changed it to physiology, I’m going to be a doctor! I want to help people!” He announced excitedly.

I think I kind of lost it at that point. His new goal was very admirable, but I was tired of being starving student parents. You see, when Curious George was born, we decided that it was very important to us that I be able to stay home with him, as far as it was humanly possible. While we are very lucky and grateful to have ways in which to make this work, we have zero point no dollars most of the time. In order for him to become a doctor, it meant we would be in this financial limbo for possibly 10 more years. At the time, that sounded like slow agonizing torture.

Although I still think that Salvador’s decision was brash (he has since apologized many times for not talking to me about it first), that it will eventually be a wonderful thing, and I’m now excited for the journey. Currently, Salvador will be getting his bachelor’s in April, and we are in the process of applying to medical school. I researched all of our choices and narrowed it down to 18 schools.

The medical school application process goes like this:

Round 1: Apply to chosen medical schools.

Round 2: If they like you, they’ll send secondary materials for you to fill out. Many require ridiculously vague essay questions like: “In 250 words or less, please give us some insight as to who you are as a person.”

Round 3: If the school really likes you, you will get invited for an interview.

Round 4: If the school really, really likes you than you get accepted! Yay! If they only sort of like you, you will get waitlisted, and then you hope and pray that after lasting through all of those rounds that a spot opens up for you.

Out of hundreds of medical schools across the country, there is only one in Utah. The University of Utah School of Medicine in Salt Lake City. However, the University of Utah is BY FAR, Salvador’s best chance of getting into medical school (Salvador’s MCAT score is very competitive there, they need minorities like mad, and they give preference to Utah residents). With family and friends nearby, super low tuition, and the far superior Salt Lake Valley beckoning us, it is our first choice.

So far, Salvador has recieved secondary materials from almost every school that we applied to. However, today we recieved our first rejection letter and it was from the University of Utah. The problem was that out of all of the schools we applied to, the U of U is the only one that has a minimum GPA, and MCAT score requirements. Salvador far surpassed all of the minimum requirements, except for one. His non-science GPA was too low by three-tenths of a point. Yes, three-tenths of a point is preventing him from going to the U of U.

OK, Utah, we can take a hint. It’s time for us to move on*.

*This is assuming that Salvador gets accepted somewhere else, but I don’t really want to think about that not happening right now.

Aloha Friday

It’s time for the Aloha Friday question again! Sheesh, this week went by too fast. Anyway, in my last post, I wrote about some of the quirks I discovered about Utah Valley after relocating there from Southern California. So, my question to you is: 

What are some unique, interesting or quirky things about your local community?

UTAH!

…continued from “Tales from da Hood”

My parents wanted to move our family to Orem, Utah?! I wondered what it was going to be like there. I didn’t really know what to expect. I was Mormon, and I’d heard that Orem was primarily Mormon as well. I imagined it would be a lot like a larger version of my local ward (congregation); an eclectic group of nice people who shared the same religious ideals. I would find out that Utah Valley had it’s own culture that was quite distinct from the religion I was already familiar with.

My family made the move in July of 1995. The day that we arrived was a warm and sunny. Our new house had a nice flower garden and well manicured lawn, just like the rest of the houses on the block. In fact, our house looked almost exactly the same as the other houses on the block. Children were playing on the street. Two moderately priced cars were parked in every driveway. Yes, folks, I had moved to the textbook example of suburbia.

I still remember what I was wearing that day. It was an outfit just like this:

Yes, I know. I looked like I had just walked out of the movie “Clueless”. I quickly noticed, however, that nobody else did, and I began to wonder if Utah had been invited to the 90’s. As girls my age showed up to come meet “the new girl”, I noticed that most of them were dressed super conservatively. All wore nice jeans, no holes anywhere. (What?! Hasn’t anyone heard Nirvana, or of the grunge movement?) Not only that, but the jeans were rolled up at the ankle, so all could see their nice clean white socks. Shirts were ironed and tucked in. There were an inordinate amount of blondes. I might as well have been in a foreign country.

The move was difficult for me to adjust to for awhile. Utah Valley (the valley and community that Orem is located in), like most places had it’s share of quirks. My new school was filled with seemingly impenetrable cliques. At first, the girls seemed gossipy and self-righteous, and the boys were unfriendly.

There were other things to get used to as well:

UTAH FOOD

The local food can be summed up in one word: “mushy”. There are lots of casseroles made with cream of mushroom soup, jellos filled with canned fruit chunks, fruit and pasta salads held together with loads of mayo. People are even prouder if it was made in a dutch oven. Meat and potatoes are staples. (The food in Utah drives my husband crazy, as he’s originally from Mexico City. He thinks Utah’s mushy food is characteristic of American food in general. I can’t wait to take him to eat in Manhattan or Houston so I can restore American food’s honor.)

POLITICS IN UTAH

I won’t go in depth into Utah politics, but politically,my husband and I often feel like this:

Yes, Utah Valley has been described by some as being in the “reddest” county in the “reddest” state. Despite this, Utah isn’t home to super “hardcore republicans.” Most tend to be moderately conservative, it just so happens that there’s a LOT of them in one place.

LANGUAGE IN UTAH

While there wasn’t as big as a difference in dialect as if I moved to The South, or Australia, there was still some language differences. A shocked Utahn might utter “Oh my heck!”. A mad Utahn might say:”That fetchin tard!” A Utahn who thought something was cute might say “Fer Cuuuute!” The words “mountain” and “water” lost their t’s. Italian was sometimes said “eye-talian”. For some “creek” was pronounced “crick”. The days of the week for an older Utahn were “Mondee, Tuesdee, Wensdee,” and so on. “ditching school” was replaced with “sluffing school”. When a Utahn was given a “dirty look” by someone else, it was said that the person had just given them a “crusty” (I’m not sure how widespread that phrase is, it may have been only in my neighborhood). I was first introduced to the words: “hick”, “molly” (as a derogatory term), and “scones” in Utah. The word “crap” wasn’t considered a swear word, but I could no longer call someone a “bastard” without getting in trouble at school.

HOUSES IN UTAH

Like most of suburbia, there are lots of cookie cutter neighborhoods in Utah Valley.

UTAH VALLEY ART

Utah Valley’s arts are lacking to say the least. Paintings are usually very cheesy and contrived. Lots of flowerey landscapes, old fashioned dressed children playing with puppies, and religious themes are found framed in Utah homes. Many homes are decorated in a “country crafty” theme. A wooden teddy bear holding a sign that says “Have a Beary Merry Christmas!” is something you might find displayed on a Utah Valley porch. Thank goodness an IKEA just went in not too far away.

I think that this tradition dates back to when pioneers settled the valley. Since they had left all that they owned back east, they probably had to get creative and make their own decor from wood scraps. The ironic thing is that it has become a profitable business in Utah Valley, and all these “homemade” crafts are ridiculously overpriced.

(I may have been too harsh on Utah Valley’s arts. I confess that my tastes are “out there” for most people as I prefer stuff more like this

I have been living in Utah for 12 years now. I slowly began to fall in love with this quirky state. I eventually penetrated the cliques and made the best friends I’ve ever had. (Summer lived across the street.) Utah Valley is frequently placed in the top ten safest places in the U.S., and it’s a wonderful place to raise a toddler. Also, even if the art scene seemed lacking at first, I realized that Utah has some of the best “natural art” found anywhere.

And who knows, maybe Utah will become architecture, art, music, or fashion’s next headquarters?

Well, probably not.

Aloha Friday

This is my first time posting an Aloha Friday question. Seems like fun, though, so why not?

In my last post, I wrote about a scary experience I had. So, the question for you is: What is the scariest experience you’ve ever had?

It doesn’t have to be the scariest thing ever, just tell me something scary that happened to you.

Tales From Da Hood

It’s almost Halloween, so I’d thought I’d tell a s-s-s- s-c-a-r-y s-s-s-s-t-o-r-y about something that actually happened to me:

It was getting late and my brothers and sisters were getting ready to go to bed. As the oldest (I was 13 at the time), it was partly my responsibility to help the 5 younger ones with getting their pajamas on, teeth brushed and so forth. As I helped my sister find some clean pj’s, I heard a loud knock at the door. My sister and I hurried towards the front door as my Mother came to answer it. She shooed us back, as she had told us many times not to come near the front door when she answered it until we knew who was knocking. As she answered the door, I peaked around the corner.

”Please let me in! There is a group of people after me! Please let me in!” The young man at our door pleaded.

”I can’t let you in here, but you can wait in our backyard and I’ll call the police for you.” My mother offered. I remember momentarily thinking it was rude that my Mom didn’t invite him in.

The young man put his hand on the front door, trying to push it open wider. “NO! Don’t call the police! Just let me in!”

At this point she became alarmed, and with all her might she slammed the door shut. She had to wedge her foot in the bottom of the door to keep it closed enough so she could hurry and lock the dead bolt.

The guy outside started to yell. “LET ME IN! LET ME IN, OR I’LL BREAK DOWN YOUR DOOR!!”

I came out from the corner. Eyes wide, she gestured towards the bedrooms where the rest of my siblings were. Without any words spoken, I knew what to do. I quickly gathered all of my siblings and we huddled behind our couch in the living room.

My Dad came in at the same time to see what all the yelling was about. My Mom quickly told him what was going on, and then she went in the kitchen and called the police.

My Dad went over to the front door, and could see through the peephole that more people had arrived. He ran to get our shotgun. The group that had gathered outside our front door were now all yelling “OPEN THE DOOR!” and were pushing and kicking the door.

As my Dad came back with the shotgun, the group had started to kick the door in unison. boom. Boom. BOOM. My Dad pushed back on the door as hard as he could.

I sat in the dark, behind the couch with my arms around my huddled siblings. Through their quiet whimperings I could hear my Mom pleading with the police to hurry. I wondered if they would get in. All sorts of horrible scenarios went through my head.

Luckily, our door withheld the pounding, and the group of thugs outside gave up after terrorizing us for 20 minutes or so. The police didn’t arrive for another 45 minutes after they were gone.

This incident, was the last straw for my parents. The bullets that flew through a friend’s mattress from a drive by, narrowly missing them as they slept, the shooting at my school during lunch, the riots and looting, the break ins on our street… they had had enough. It was time to move. Unfortunately, Southern California has the most expensive real estate in the country, and while there were plenty of nice, safe areas, they weren’t anything that they could afford.

Finally, a year later, my parents sold the house, and my Dad had found a new job. For me, however, although the crime was a problem, at 14 years old, the last thing I wanted to do was move away from all of my friends. At the very least, I hoped that my Dad would find a job somewhere I thought was interesting, like San Diego, or Lake Tahoe. However, I was devastated when my Dad came home and announced: (this is the scariest part!)

”Guess what kids? We’re moving to Orem, Utah!”

to be continued…