Hotel Washburn

Today I blog to you live from the state's premier 5 star resort in Monticello Utah. Situated below the picturesque "horse mountain," Hotel Washburn can boast the highest rate of return visitors in all of Utah. And once you know all the amazing ammenities of this establishment it is not the least surprising that guests return as often as schedules allow. In fact there is hardly a weekend that goes by that all the rooms are not completely booked! Some of the aforementioned ammenities include the following:

*A rousing wake-up call as early as 12:00 noon.

*Made to order comfort-food for every meal. I suggest the waffles.

*Pristine mountain air.

*The aroma of a real wood-burning stove.

*A museum exhibit entitled, "Fashion Through The Decades-A Look Back At What The Washburn Girls Wore." (A must see and terribly moving.)

*An entire cupboard devoted entirely to sweet treats, and if you time your visit right-around Christmas or Father's day-those sweets will undoubtely contain See's Chocolates.

*An assortment of activities ranging from reading to napping to learning to cook. And I dare you to deny the activities director, one Spenser Simpson, when he graciously invites you to a card game or two.

In fact things have been going so well here at Hotel Washburn, that they have recently had to expand by "securing" up to three additional rooms at the adjacent Hotel Chapman and four additional rooms at Hotel Simpson located only 15 minutes south in Blanding Utah.

I can think of no better way for this blogger to ring in the new year than a stay here and I highly recommend a visit here to everyone-that is if you can get a reservation.

Happy 2008

Old

Having just turned 27 I have hit what some might call a "quarter-life crisis." This numeral, which seems innocuous, is in reality much too big a number and too many steps past 23 for me to feel entirely comfortable with it. Each year starting around the end of October I have started what I call the "aging-reconciliation-process." The process basically involves me telling people that "I am ____ years old." With the blank being filled in each year with my approaching age rather than my actual age. I don't know if I started this process each year because I was so excited to be another year older, or if it was because I really needed those extra couple of months to mentally adjust to the change.

However, 2007 has proved to be the end of the "aging-reconciliation-process." I didn't even want to say my actual age let alone the new/bigger number that was coming. I have been, GULP, 27 for a couple of weeks now and I am just barely able to say it. During my struggle leading up to my birthday I did, as I always do, talk about it with my friends and family. So many people have made "cute" comments about my feelings on aging and I wanted to share a few with you.

54 year old woman: "Please you are so young, you have all the time in the world."
*Note: Don't mom's always have to say that kind of stuff whether they mean it or not?

23 year old woman: "Well, how old are you going to be?" (I respond) "Oh." (making a face that looks like she just swallowed something undesireable) "I thought turning 23 was hard."
*Note: I hope that she has crows feet and gray hair at 27

19 year old girl: "I think its silly when people struggle with aging, I have never had a problem getting older."
*Note: That's because ALL children look forward to getting older!

21 year old guy: "Well I guess you can start dating guys in their mid-thirites now."

30 year old guy: "Don't worry, no one really expects much else from you."
*Note: Oh really, you, of all people, are going to judge my life. Ironic.

27 year old woman: "You should probably just get a cat or 2 or 500 and call it good."
*Note: Dawn-remember to discuss self-hatered with therapist.

You were probably thinking at the begining of this post that there would be some back story, the meat of my struggle,the touching moment where I had a personal epiphany and realized that 27 is not old, or I am okay with being 27, or some other load of crap, finished off with a concise morale of the story. Sorry to disappoint you, but that is not the case, I am still struggling with being 27 years old, I just don't like it. However, I am hoping to get used to it soon so that I can enjoy a few months free of age-related struggle before I get to 28 (heaven/therapy help me.)

Sugar-tarian

Before thanksgiving I was undecided about whether or not I would be eating turkey with my dinner. As the food began circling the table the decision was suddenly upon me, meat or no meat. I took a little turkey and ate a bite or two, but alas the nausea soon followed. So my thanksgiving was mostly turkey free.

In the wake of my slight dissapointment at not eating turkey on turkey day I consoled myself by thinking about all the yummy holiday treats that are sure to abound during the next few weeks. First to mind; Christmas Creme Cookies....mmmmm. Then I thought about all the calories involved in all those treats, calories which I know I don't need. First to mind; Christmas Creme Cookies.....oh(sad face).

That is the moment I wondered why I couldn't feel about sugar the way I feel about meat. I decided to try to think about all the grossness of sugar. After sitting with a pen and paper for over 20 minutes, (I've decided to be open and honest about my intense need to make lists for everything) I had no bullet points under the heading, "Things That Are Gross About Sugar."

So my desire to be a sugar-tarian was short lived due to the lack of evidence in support of it. Oh well, but at least I will get to eat those Christmas Creme Cookies....mmmm. Maybe I'll try to keep it to a minimum, then again.....

Things I'm Glad I Tried-Even Though I Was Petrified

I am afraid of a lot of things; an international ice-cream shortage, only having brown shoes to wear with a black outift, wearing really high heels, spiders, someone hiding behind the shower curtain waiting to kill me, and cleaning the toilet...just to a name a few of the ones I am working on in therapy. Then I thought about some of the things I was afraid to do that I did anyway....

Things I'm Glad I Tried:

1. Starting My Own Business!
2. A second kiss-the first one was so terrible I nearly gave up on it for life!
3. Escargo-even though I almost threw up.
4. Airplane Food-even though I did throw up.
5. Entering the MTC---and leaving the MTC
6. Blind Dates-I mean COME ON!

I am wiser, more mature, more understanding of myself and the world around me, and certainly stronger for having done these things. Of course there's still long list of things I am scared to do....(anyone who wants to clean my toilet is welcome to.)

They do what?

I am finding that if I write down the funny things right away I don't forgot so easily.

In preschool this week we have been talking about Thanksgiving, Thankful attitudes, and of course, Turkeys. This morning as she dropped off her son one mom said, "we talked about turkeys yesterday so he is all ready to talk about them today." Then to her son, "Remember TURKEYS not chickens." (this is apparently a very confusing concept.)

So after his mom left this sweet little boy shared what he now knew about turkeys with me. I am wondering which family member was the source of his information. Please to enjoy.

Little Boy: "They slice their body (knife cutting across belly motion) and they cut their body off (cutting off hands motion)."

Miss Dawn: I'm sure my eyes were wide, "Oh really?"

Little Boy: "Yeah. And its cool!"

I will at this point reference a previous blog of mine entitled "Vegetarian?" maybe I will retitle it to "Vegetarian!"

One Of Life's Disappointments

I usually hope that kids I teach don't have to feel the little disappointments of life this early, but alas, it is inevitible.

(to get the full efect read matthew's part in the voice of whatever 3 year old you know that has those little speech impediments that are so endearing.)

Miss Dawn: "Hey Matthew."

Matthew: "I'm Superman!"

Miss Dawn: "Oh yeah, Hey Superman. How are you today?"

Superman: "Good."

Miss Dawn: "Did you fly anywhere last night?"

Superman: "My dog is name peanut."

Miss Dawn: "Cool." (I am understandably a little confused at this point.)

Superman looks up at me through his eyelashes and I'm quite confident I saw the glimmer of a tear forming, and now I am afraid that he is going to tell me about Peanut dieing, so I hug him a little closer and wait for him to continue.

Superman: "But she can't fly."

At this point dear little superman runs off, or I should say pretends to fly off, to play with his friends. I laughed and laughed until a tear came to my eye.

And then I wondered: Did he test out a flying-super-dog theory on the family pet?

Food for Thought

This week my preschool had a fieldtrip to Alberstons to learn all about healthy eating and more importantly where the cookies are made. It was a really fun fieldtrip and the kids were awed by all the neat things they saw-live lobster included. However, it was more than a little ironic to me that they started off in the bread section and told the kids all about good bread-brown and bad bread-white, then we promptly headed into the in store bakery where we saw cookies baking and then they gave all the kids a cookie. I think the real lesson learned was, bread=bad and cookie=good.

There were two comments from these adorable children I wanted to share.

Comment #1
Little Girl: "Miss Dawn, look! There is McDonalds!"

Miss Dawn: "Yeah-there it is."

Little Girl: "We don't eat there cause mom says it stinks."

Comment #2
A Different Little Girl: "My brother is allergic to ice-cream."

Miss Dawn: (curious as to her level of understanding) "Hey, what does allergic mean?"

Little Girl: "It means when you smell something you are allergic to you DIE!"

Miss Dawn: "Oh, thanks for explaining."

Authors note: Maybe it would be good if I were "allergic" by this definition to ice-cream.

Santa's Mind-Reading Abilities

I know that I am probably biased but I think that my adorable niece Emma says some of the funniest things I have ever heard. Here is one that happened about a week ago.

Auntie Dawn: (in an attempt to secretly gather Christmas information) "Emma, do you know what you want from Santa for Christmas this year?"

Emma: (not even looking up as she continues to play with her toys) "Yeah."

Auntie Dawn: "Oh, what?"

Emma: "You'll see."

Auntie Dawn: "I'll see what?"

Emma: "You'll see what I want when Santa brings it."

Her mom is sitting behind her and the "deer in the headlights" look in her eyes was classic.

Auntie Dawn: "Well, should we write him a letter?"

Emma: "No, I already told him."

Auntie Dawn: "You did? When?"

Emma: "Just now."

Auntie Dawn's internal dialouge: "Does Emma think you can pray to Santa? We should probably discuss who it is appropriate to pray to."

Auntie Dawn: (because I still have no idea what to get her for Christmas, I continue) "Well, what else would like for Christmas?"

Emma: "Nothing."

Although I still have no idea what to give Emma, my heart really goes out to her parents-good luck with all that.

Halloween Fun

It seems that the annual DCP (discovery corner preschool for those of you not in the know) Halloween Party had its share of funny moments. So here are a few:
The names, of course, have been made up, or not...but now you will never really know.

Upon seeing friend Caden decked out in his costume, Jenny says, "Um...Caden I thought you said you were going to be a mommy?" (can you guess what his costume was)

As is always the case, about 10 minutes into the party everyone wants to take off their costume as it is in some way hampering their ability to eat, play or get into something messy.

This is the story of one of these moments. One little boy took off his costume without my help. This little boy did have on pants underneath his costume, but no shirt. I decided that his being shirtless was not worth the time or energy it would take to attempt to rectify the situation, and come one he is a 3 year old little boy surrounded by other 3 year olds. However, one little girl was particularly concerned about it. I felt a little tap on my arm and when I turned to look I noted the dismay in her eyes as Kenzie said, "Um..Miss Dawn. Joshy is half naked!!"

There was one costume that I really enjoyed. This little boy came running down the hall, arms poised in the classic super-hero pose. This is of course defined by hands balled into fists, one arm punched out in front of the body and the other tucked close to the body. There is also a facial expression to accompany the pose, it is a cross between fierce-brave-and handsome. When he reached the end of the hall he jumped up and landed in a frozen version of this super-hero look. I took in his cape and chest piece-circa 1980's I think. The chest portion had a giant "T" with a lightning bolt behind it. And before I could even use my generic phrase that I had developed for deciphering costumes, he proclaimed, "I'm Thunderbolt Henry!" I loved it all!

Happy Halloween

Preschool Silliness

So I know that my last post was about silly preschool kids but I just had a superior funny experience today. This took place outside in the sandbox.

Me: "Wow, random little boy! You are really doing a great job of digging that hole!"

Random Little Boy: "Yeah I know."

Me: "Are you digging to China?"

Random Little Boy: Stares at me deep in thought for several moments, "I don't know. Is China in the sandbox?"

I love when kids are so literal, I think maybe we silly adults spend too much time trying to make things more complicated than they need to be which makes adults and all their silliness seem even silly-er. Let's just all be like the kids.

Funny Times In Preschool

Being a preschool teacher I am blessed to hear many things "out of the mouths of babes." Usually I am able to laugh inwardly, in order to spare the feelings of these sweetly honest kids. However there are occasions when I am forced to run to the bathroom to "wash my hands" (wink-wink) and laugh out loud. This is the story of one such experience. Authors note-these are direct quotes, I wrote them down. Enjoy....

Backstory-I was sitting at the art table working with another child on an art project when I overheard two children in the dramatic play center playing house......

Boy Child: "I am making dinner."

Girl Child: "What are you making."

Boy Child: "Pizza."

Girl Child: "OK"

Boy Child: (yelling) "I DO EVERYTHING IN THIS HOUSE!"

Girl Child: No verbal response, look of complete confusion on her face.

Boy Child: (still yelling) "I CLEAN THE HOUSE, I MAKE DINNER, I TAKE CARE OF ALL THESE KIDS AND YOU DO NOTHING!"

Girl Child: Still no verbal response, continued look of confusion on face with an added touch of fear in her eyes.

Boy Child: (yes, still yelling) "CAN'T YOU HELP ME?!! (prolonged and highly exasperated sigh)

Girl Child: Looks to me for reassurance that what she has just experienced was as weird as she thinks it is.

Me: I smile reassuringly and say "Let's remember to use kind words with our friends." This is, of course, a phrase learned on the first day in "Standard Phraseology For the Preschool Teacher 101."

I ran to the bathroom with a sudden glue-on-hands emergency and laughed for at least 3 minutes. After which I grabbed my handy notebook and pen to record the experience for my posterity-or at least my blog.

The truth is I was never really able to look at "boy child's" parents in quite the same way after that day. I had a new insight into their home life that could not be undone. I never judged them-because let's get honest-I can't even count the number of times I had yelled similar and undoubtedly worse things to the people in my life. I just love knowing that other people are as fallible as I am.

Note to the reader: Do not fear, this was certainly NOT your child.

Oh! The ponytail!

I know it is wrong to love something so much, especially something that has no feelings and really can't love you back....but I have always LOVED my hair. It is the best friend I've ever had. Even when I threatened its very existence with innumerable products, blow dryers, curling irons, flat irons, bleach, hair dye, razors, gallons of hairspray and worst of all....personal attempts at bang trimming, even through all this it was resillient and dare I say, beautiful. I have often felt about my hair the way Anne Shirley felt about her nose; knowing it was beautiful and occasionally feeling waves of guilt for my knowledge and enjoyment of that beauty.
I should interject at this point that these feelings for my hair developed AFTER the terrible Dorothy Hammil years of early childhood-some sort of punishment inflicted by mother, AFTER the banana clip and sheperical bangs years-some sort of punishment inflicted by society, and of course after all the terrible tries at hair-self-government that spanned the junior high and high school years of my life. In essence it has only been as an adult I have truly appreciated my tressess.
I love the way the my hair smells, I love the way it feels falling over my shoulders and down my back, and mostly I really love the way it feels when I twist it in and around my fingers. This of course being a little habit I picked up as an infant. Although, unlike sucking my little finger, I have never been able to abandon that small comforting action.
So it was an overwhelmingly difficult day when in May of this year I cut off some of my beloved hair. (And by "some of my hair" I mean 13 glorious inches.) "Why?" you may ask would you do such a crazy thing when you have just spent 2 intense paragraphs devoting yourself to said hair." Well the answer is really a simple one-in the hope of helping someone else. I donated all those time won tressess to "Locks of Love." However this is not about my donation or the amazing person that is has made me into. No this particular entry is about my selfishness. It is true that I donated my hair, but it is also true that I have missed my locks each of the 140 days, 9 hours and 14 minutes that they have been gone. (of course that time is based on the exact moment that I wrote it-please adjust for time passed from the point of writing to the point of reading.)
I have tried during each of those 140 days to accept my hair choice and to enjoy the new looks that my current cut allows....but I recently stood in a line behind a woman with her hair pulled back into a ponytail and I stared at that most enviable of hairstyles. That is the precise moment when it hit me. I thought, "Oh! The ponytail! How I miss the ponytail....I want it back..... sob..sob..sob!" It was at this point a kind bystander rushed to my defense as I collapsed to the cold hard ground beneath me. Even with the assisstance, I regret to say that I still spent the better part of 12 hours crying over my lost hair. The plain and simple truth is that I miss my hair and after many hours of therapy-which isn't free-I have been able to admit that fact and I now know that it is okay for me to feel that way....even if I secretly try to pull my hair into a sad little ponytail every night before I go to bed.

Vegetarian?

Recently the following conversation could have been overheard taking place between myself and a family member during a sunday dinner when I chose not to eat the meat of choice that was being served.
Family Member: "Why don't you just come out of the vegetarian closet already?"
Me: "I'm not a vegetarian! I just don't really eat meat.....ever.......anymore. But that doesn't make me a vegetarian."

Still I have never really considered myself to be a vegetarian. I think if I ever was to say that I was, my cattle rancher grandpa would probably disinherit me immediately. And that is obviously something I am not interested in. However over the past year I have eaten less and less meat simply because I don't like it. The saddest of all such experiences occured recently while I was in California for a weekend vaca. I was SO excited to eat at In 'n Out-one of my favorite eateries in the world. So late one evening we called 1-800-In 'n Out (I'm not making that up-its real) to get directions to the nearest location and headed out to the glorious building. As we waited in line to order I began to have a pit in my stomach. I hadn't had any type of hamburger in over a year, and I was quickly becoming aware that I would not be able to eat one of the amazing, life altering hamburgers being made behind the counter. I was sure one bite would enduce a vomit session the likes of which might scare small children. So defeated, I ordered only a chocolate shake and fries, which were of course delicious. However as I watched the others deeply enjoy their hamburgers and fries, a small piece of me died-and I will always miss the In 'n Out part of my heart.

But so you ask-"then do you consider yourself to be a vegetarian?" The answer-well sort of-ish. I really don't like the taste or texture, I certainly can't cook it or touch any of it, smell it, walk past the meat section of the grocery store, or watch others eat it without feeling a little sick to my stomach, but I don't think I am ready for that kind of commitment. And if you are wondering the answer is yes-I sure do have commitment issues.