So, when I said I was going to do ten new posts, I should have clarified that they would end up being posted at my standard pace of once in a whenever my girls aren't fighting over the computer. Which is, like, never.
Some of the most interesting and hilarious conversations I've had in recent memory, revolved around ridiculous dreams. My friend and former co-worker at The Yoga Shop, Kenzie, was the best when it came to crazy dream conversations. On many occasions, we would stay late after Zumba laughing our faces off. For example:
Quite recently, I had a dream where two snakes, which were actually not snakes but Neil Patrick Harris-es in suits, were slither-chasing me through an Elementary school soccer field.
In college, I had a dream where I was at a party at a friends house, and went to the bathroom only to discover that I was not only naked, but also had goat legs. So, of course, I tried to cover up my naked goat legs with toilet paper, but on returning to the party, was shamefully aware that despite my makeshift toilet paper skirt, everyone could still see my goat legs.
As far as recurring dreams go, I'm a tooth person. I have had hundreds of dreams where my teeth are falling out, or crumbling away in my mouth. One notable instance, involved me in tap shoes at the South Towne mall in Sandy, trying to impress someone at some kind of talent audition, but I couldn't concentrate on my tap routine, because all my teeth kept falling out.
Sometimes you go to an Eddie Vedder concert, and he is publicly thanking your best friend's husband for inspiring him to write music, all while playing a guitar on his lap that is actually a surfboard.
So, my ulterior motives here should be obvious. I love hearing other people's weird dreams. Therefore, post a couple in the comments.
I've said before how futile talking about music is. Doesn't mean I'm not going to take a stab at it anyway.
For those of you that have known me for awhile (let's say, before Elliot was born) know that I had a little phase (little phase? Really?) where I was quite obsessed with music. Obsessed to the point that it spilled over in to condescension and judgement. This is true, I once went on a date with a pretty handsome dude, only to find out halfway through the night that his favorite musicians were Jack Johnson, John Mayer, and Dave Matthews*. We did not go out again. On the flip side, if I met someone and was to discover that they knew about Drive Thru Records, we instantly bonded. I rarely wrote a paper or studied for a college exam without music in the background. I wrote songs, I played guitar, and I performed with silly hopes of taking it to the next level. At the time I met my husband, I was averaging around two concerts a month, which was saying something since I lived in tiny Cedar City and had to drive either three hours to SLC or two and a half to Vegas far a show. And let us not forget that is was after the Hot Rod Circuit/Eisley/Brand New show that I met a certain basketball coach who became a rather important part of my life.
Photographic Evidence:
The Format's Nate and Sam (Nate is now the frontman for fun.)
Me and Andrew McMahon from Something Corporate/Jack's Mannequin
The first day we ever hung out. It was just after I played in SUU's Guitar's Unplugged.
ANYWAY
Needless to say, music was a big deal.
And then, it wasn't.
It wasn't like I started having kids and all of a sudden I stopped caring. It was a very gradual slide. Obviously the concert attendance diminished. We still tried to make it to the important ones, (Jimmy Eat World, Something Corporate, Angels and Airwaves), but it was a once a year kind of thing. I still listened to my old favorites when I got the chance, and danced with anticipation when one of the bands I loved came out with a new album. But I stopped having the time to sit for hours on the computer researching new bands, and with pregnant bellies and climbing kids, all my guitar playing pretty much stopped dead. Music in the car went from blasting The Matches at max volume to The Backyardigans soundtrack or children's audio books.
But it gets worse.
I started to regress. I started revisiting even older favorites. Having no interest or time to explore new music, I made little playlists full of the things I listened to in High School. 311, Weezer, Smashing Pumpkins, Foo Fighters, nothing to be ashamed of, but still. It felt weird.
Then we moved. I had been interested in K-pop for awhile thanks to my very very wonderful friend Ruth, who was always kind enough to send me YouTube links or even CDs in the mail from Korea. I had been starting to venture out on my own a little, looking things up on Spotify and buying a cheap pair of computer speakers to plug into my phone so I could have music all around the house, when I stumbled across this lovely little cover:
Ok, so I knew my sister has showed me this song before, but it led me to check out The Civil Wars (which I knew my sister Laura was a big fan of. And since Laura is also a big k-pop fan, and likes Yellowcard, I knew I could trust her judgement), which then led me to Mumford and Sons, Bon Iver, Fleet Foxes, stuff I like to refer to as "cabin music". Living in Wyoming and having more than one wall of wood paneling in this silly house of mine, it seemed natural to fall in love with it. Then in the last week or so, my cabin music spiraled off into Alex Clare, Lykke Li, Phoenix, new Regina Spektor I hadn't heard before, Imagine Dragons, and Of Monsters and Men.
So like I stated before. I know how lame this all makes me sound, but it makes me feel like despite the kids and the years that have passed, I am still Pozeur, still a little bit the girl who danced in the kitchen and blasted music out of open car windows.
*For the record, I have no problem with Jack Johnson on his own, or when he's doing the soundtrack to Curious George, but in combination with the other two.. shudder.
But seriously, it's like a conspiracy. We all want you to believe that Wyoming is super lame, so we can keep all its awesomeness to ourselves. I'm a self proclaimed WYO-hipster (it's totally a thing).
We're settled in to our new routines (oh? the coach is gone/busy all the time? how shocking and also unexpected.), and getting used to the town. Elliot is loving her school, and I am loving the feeling of finally having a child in school all day. Stori, Rou, and I are also loving that we live just two streets away from the library and that they offer story time three mornings a week. It's also weird to me how much I'm loving mornings here. I blame it mostly on Elliot being in first grade, but by the time I have her off to school, the day is still all laid out ahead of me and best of all I let the other two kids sleep in. I'm a stellar parent, I know. And so I spend my mornings right here:
My absolute favorite spot in our new house. I'm aware that sitting on the countertops is generally frowned upon in most houses, but this is just the most perfect place to enjoy a cuppa, a little music, and lovely natural sunlight on book pages. Blissful.
Home ownership is weird. This is our first house that is really and truly ours, and it's funny to me how excited I am getting about things I never thought twice about before. Curtains! Paint schemes! Cabinet hardware! Garden tools! It's life-changing. Even the dumb things, (like sweeping the stupid Russian Olive leaves from our neighbor's tree) seem fulfilling. It's an older house, so there is a lot of work that can be done (no ceiling light in the bedrooms? Seriously you guys?) But it's nothing we can't handle, and I'm stupidly excited about the work.
Other things I'm all about:
The crazyawesome thunderstorms
The best, most non-judgemental, friendly, welcoming, diverse, helpful, SO not like my old ward, absolutely-perfectly-suited-for-me ward on the planet
Do you really think it's possible for me to write ten whole posts? Maybe not. But considering all the goings on here, and all the Mormon-housewife guilt I feel for not documenting it, I should at least give it the ol' college try, right?
It is true. Team Einfeldt is relocating to the fabulous world of:
Cows!
Horses!
Antelope!
Cowboys!
Seriously Utah, I love you, but this just isn't going to work out. It's not us, it's you. You just didn't appreciate us enough. Blair (and by extension, me and the girls) has found someone who wants to treat him right, allow him to teach in an environment where he is not subject to the will and idiocy of St. Kaiser Stupid Face (it's a long story, and probably not wise to post here.), and give him amazing insurance. I hope we can still be friends. Kind of...
1. Elliot is nearly six, and is shaping up to be the raddest six-year old girl ever. When asked what she would like for her birthday party, she responded without hesitation, "A Spiderman pinata, and Star Wars stuff." She can stay. Happy Birthday Elliot!
2. If anyone wants to come to my house and help me put things into boxes, I'd be, like, your best friend. Ever.
3. Remember how I made a goal to read 52 books this year? Well, I was doing pretty dang awesome, until Game of Thrones came along and started throwing off my groove. It's great, but WHY is it SO LONG?
4. Obviously, since I am writing this post, you can assume I have a teensy bit of free time on my hands. Time which I should be spending on packing. Not blogging. I should get some kind of procrastination award.
1. So, the Blogger app isn't very fancy. One might even call it lame. I can only post pictures at the bottom? That's dumb. Nevertheless, I shall soldier on.
2. I discovered the Instagram. I'm pozeur, by the way. We should be Instagram friends.
3. Big News. Tonight I am going out. With grown up girls. Grown up girls with whom I have been acquainted for less than twenty years. WITHOUT CHILDREN. I have actually never done this before. I feel like I'm 16 years old and going on a date.
4. Word of advice: Do not buy U brand liners (the black box ones) unless you love rubbing your skin on cactus. Then, by all means, go ahead.
5. I feel like a Hipster saying this, but I've loved Nate from the band fun. way before they were ever even popular. If you have never listened to The Format, just go do it. You'll be glad you did.
6. Rou has fallen in love with Angry Birds (Anry Birss) hardcore. Some wise guy Easter bunny honestly didn't foresee that a stuffed red bird toy would be used for nothing but hurling destruction at everything in the house (family members included). Nice going Easter bunny.
7. Yes. I was the nearsighted Easter bunny. What of it?
It has become painfully obvious that I am no longer the master of my computer. It has been requisitioned by Astoria for the use of CharlieAndLola.com and by Rou for the listening of the Angry Birds Rio theme song on Spotify. And so, in an effort to reconnect with the blog buddies I've left behind (all four of you) I'm attempting to post from my phone. Does this mean an increase in posts? Possibly. Does it also mean an increase in spelling and autocorrect errors? Certainly.
However, it also might help me keep track of this silly life if mine a bit better. We'll see what comes of it.
