Take A Hike

Monday's Fit Tip: Go Take a Hike

Seriously. Last week a friend and I ended our thirty minute power walk with a brief hike into one of Pleasant Grove's hiker friendly canyons. Not only does your body have to juggle your balance on the rough terrain, but your butt benefits from trekking up the incline. If you keep a pace quick and steady enough to elevate your heart rate, then you're getting a GOLDEN workout for free.

GOLDEN? What's that? Unlike some of the cardio and weight machines in the gym, this exercise challenges more than one muscle group at a time. The more muscles worked at one time THE BETTER!

Hiking = Glutes, Hams, Quads, Calfs, and Abs = GOLDEN workout

(you get my abbrev. don't you?)

And did I mention it's free? You know I'm a sucker for free stuff. Get out there, wear comfortable and supportive shoes and Go For A Hike!

Maybe one day you too can be like this guy here who didn't hike through the mountains for fifty long and crazy miles, no HE RAN!

Come to My House!!!

It's time for the biggest yard sale in Pleasant Grove the world tomorrow. Ok, so maybe that's a bit of a stretch, but seriously, it is going to be good.

A lot of you have asked me when I am doing it, so I am giving you the heads up. I am sorry that I can't hold anything for anyone this year. That got a little hairy and I am not good with confrontations, so it would be better if you just came over and grabbed what you wanted yourself. If you haven't been to my house before, it is behind the junior high in Pleasant Grove.

I am only having it from 8-Noon tomorrow, so get up early and get on over here. I am cleaning out every room and de-junking. Believe me when I say, this is one yardsale you don't want to miss...(cue the cheesy used car sales music)

Be there or Be not there.

ha ha

snort.

I am sad.

Michael Jackson passed away today. I am sad. I just hung up the phone and dropped my chin to rest in my hands.

Just over 10 years ago:

I saved my money, the little that I made working as a reference desk clerk at the BYU-H library, and I purchased a pricey ticket to Michael Jackson's concert. Sure my ticket was in the nose bleed section, where, from my point of view, Michael looked no bigger than an ant, but I didn't care. I was thrilled just to be there.

Halfway through the concert, when the security relaxed, a few friends and I rushed down level after level until we were three rows from the front. A mom and her son stood and left just as I approached. The guards we evaded earlier were honing in on us, so I plunked down with one of my friends as fast as we could...and sad to say, let the others fend for themselves. (Come on?!? what would you have done? It was Michael Jackson)

The rest of the concert was beyond belief. Utterly amazing. To this day, I'll tell you to your face that it is and was the greatest concert I have ever attended.

Simply put, I love Michael Jackson. I am sad he passed away. I hope he will find peace . . . and maybe a little of his younger more attractive, pre-surgerized, less-haole, looks.

WARNING: If you say anything degrading, or blatantly rude about Michael on my blog, consider yourself NO LONGER as good of friends with me as you thought you were. (MOM, this includes you!)

GRIEVING: Since this is a hard time for me, I am accepting donations in the way of Hart's or Walker's 32 ounce diet Pepsi drinks. Tip: Mix 1/8 diet mt. dew to 7/8 diet Pepsi.

hmm.

Just thinking here.

ON the topic of high school boys:

• Really?!? Is it really that cool to wear the low riding tight legged jeans, completed with a mimicked Zac Effron Do' and a chest hugging v-neck t-shirt? Really?!? I am so glad I went to high school over ten years ago . . . If not, I seriously doubt I would have dated or ever kissed a boy.

ON the topic of FACEBOOK:

• I don't know you. I'm pretty dang sure you don't know me, but yet, you insist on trying to add me as a friend. So what do I do? Of course I add you. At heart, I'm a softy. Does that mean I'm opening myself up for some life-scam or identity fraud? Sure. But life's about the risks right?
• Just to clarify though, I'm going to add you, but don't think I'm going to spend time joining your whacked groups or playing Mafia. I am so over that.

ON the topic of WT kids:

• No need to panic, WT = white trash. Yeah, so it was my kid running around the Orem ball park in only a t-shirt and a pull-up. So what if he was stained blue by the sno cone and mud streaked. He's a friggin' boy!
• Did that come across un 'PC'? I apologize. If you let your little girl run around in a filthy diaper, caked in high fructose corn syrup and mud, I promise not to throw darting glares in your direction and hiss under my breath about your poor parenting.

Dad.

Nikki and I were fighting like feral cats, as we often did, when my dad turned around in his seat and ordered us to stop fighting. Pul-ease! Like that's going to do the trick. I was right and I knew I was right . . . though now if you ask me what we were fighting about, I couldn't tell you. I ignored my sister and turned my attention to my dad, who was busily maneuvering our enormo-van down the highway. I pleaded my case, insisting that he see my side and see justice done. Nikki couldn't be aloud to win. Ridiculous.
As it often goes with arguing kids, when I tried to show the light of how I was offended by Nikki, she thwarted my by inserting her own interpretation of the story. Over and over again.

After hearing us bicker, Dad turned around in his seat and said, "Stop it. You're making a mountain out of a mo hill."

Our response to him was to pause. Think about what he said. Then erupt in laughter. We turned our bickering ways to poking fun of dad's pidgin' slip. Not only did Dad, stop our fighting, but it gave us something to laugh about for quite some time.

Dad, I love you. Happy Father's day. Thanks for listening to all my "MO HILLS".

Here's dad changing my tire helping me change my tire.Dad and Ruby, supporting George's little league game.

And to Mark. Happy Father's day. You are a wonderful, brilliant, loving father. I couldn't have asked for anything more. Luv, erin

Dance With Me...

Oh, Mckell and Casey, you two are so happy and in love. I enjoyed shooting your wedding so much. It was beautiful and magical. Thank you for sharing that with me. Here is a little sneak peak at some of your shots.

Shooting Erik Bayles

I have often said in the past that Erik Bayles is my Arch Nemesis! He is the bane of my existence. The devil in my Prada.

Ok, maybe that's going a little to far. But though I've sworn at him in Church, and had nightmares that he was my history teacher, I have to admit that I love love love his family.

Thanks Bayles family for letting me shoot you! ha ha ha, snort.

Shanelle, you are a knock out! holy crap.Ah, sweet Danielle, next time you leave early I won't talk to you for months.

Parker, way to go kiddo!

oh, I love little Miss B's eyes. She is lovely.

STUPID.

Plain. Simple. Stupid.

First off, I fully take credit for waking up at 4 AM and having a panic attack over my mom's stinky-eleven-year-old Retriever--PO. She's seriously gross. And by 'gross' I mean, she has the worst butt breath ever.

I don't know why I was even thinking about her at 4 AM, but I had to know, right then and there, where she was. Because, should she ever go missing, my mom would dis-own me and probably ground me for the rest of my life.

"Mark, where's the dog." He grunted. I poked. He grunted again. I jabbed. He got out of bed. To appease my freaking-out-ness he ran down stairs and "completely searched" every room in the basement. "Are you sure she's not there?" I checked. He rolled his eyes. Apparently at 4 AM he's not ok with me 'double checking.'

"Are you kidding me?" I jumped out of bed, slipped on the resurrected teal sweats and searched the upstairs. Two minutes later, Mark and I came face to face. "She's gone. You have to find her." I begged. I pleaded. I demanded cried.

Mark grabbed the keys, climbed into the truck and took off in search of Po.

That's when I had the inkling to do the double checking myself. I walked down the stairs, opened the boys door, and Lo and Behold--Po, the stink-butt dog was hanging with the boys.

So, thirty minutes later, when grumpy Mark comes home and walks into the bedroom, all I have to say is, "Seriously, that was so Stupid."

Maybe next time he'll be ok with the "double checking".

Monday's Fit Tip Mania: Don't Go to BYU Conferences

Fit Tip of the Day: Steer clear of any conference that has you sitting for 10 hours a day and eating CRAP. Plain. Simple.

Sitting + Eating all day long = WEIGHT GAIN

What to Do if you find yourself in that situation: Eat Less. Work Out.

Stay tuned for next weeks more inspiring fit tip. Luv, Erin

The Famous WRITER!...or, soon to be...

I just wanted to brag now that I know these ladies before they are famous. Since they are all on their way to publishing, does that make me cooler now?
I had too much fun at the BYU-writers for young readers conference. (aka. loads of ladies laughing and loading up on lots of Love...ok, so I'm a sucker for alliteration. Really it was a freakin' awesome conference for writers, or soon to be published writers). Here are a few clips from the event.
1. Me and (SSS) Super Spectacular Stacey-writer extraordinaire and famous book critic.
2. (LWL's - Lovely Writing Ladies) The Chick Lit group - a load of lovely ladies who love 'LOVE'

3. (NBFA- new best friend author) The one and only Janette Rallison...um, did I mention that she is totally my BFF?

4. (ABF-armpit butter friend) Such a studious shot of Julie Donaldson-soon to be published Regency author. Watch out Mr. Darcy, here comes Miss Julie.

5. (Laracy -Laura and Tracy Hickman team) Of course, the object of my affection in the story below - the TRACY HICKMAN!!! (so what if it's a side shot...that doesn't mean I was stalking him, just taking a friendly 'side' shot)

6. (CSE - cute shoes editor) Miss Marino here will be my editor!

7. (M.E. - mini editor) Not because she hardly edits but because she is TINY! Love her...and her cute button self. She too might be my future editor.

8. (The Necromancer) - so I totally don't know how to say or spell his last name, but I do know it is a lot like 'necromancer' which is a totally legit Fantasy word. He WILL be my agent.

9. (NBFA-see above) Another shot of the lovely Janette...did I mention we are totally BFFs? 10. (LWL's) And you can't write about love with out embracing one of the greatest love series in the last 100 years...hm, what book do you think I'm talking about?

Yes, I had a freaking awesome time. I learned a lot. I am that much closer to actually publishing my own LOVE story. Maybe then I'll get more than one reader. Peace Out! My 5 Fav's From the Conference

A. Writing an impromptu story about love spawned from warming butter in one's armpit.

B. Passing my manuscript to Editors from under the bathroom stall.

C. Becoming 'just as good of friends as I think we are' with Janette Rallison.

D. Finding a future wife for my cousin Jarom...what a dream boat.

E. Gaining 5 pounds

Long Duck Dong

Do you remember Long Duck Dong from Sixteen Candles? At the BYU writing conference, I shared a poignant experience that I once had with the aforementioned superstar. It is now that I would like to take the time to share it with you (my one faithful reader).

Another delay? Are you kidding me? I really just wanted to get home, as I was sure all the other passengers milling around LAX did also. I pulled out my walkman, slid on the satellite sized earphones and then shoved in my coolest new tape: Lighter Shade of Brown. (Note: If you are unfamiliar with this group that's because they are a one hit wonder...and by one hit, I mean probably only in Utah. I dunno...Goggle them.)

I rocked to the bassy beat as I looked around the terminal. Right across the row from me sat Long Duck Dong. No way.

"Long Duck Dong!" I jumped out of my seat and ripped the fatty-arse-ear phones off my head.

He smiled.

I shivered...and not just because it was cold in the terminal.

"You know, Long Duck Dong is not my real name," he said. Then relaxing back in his chair, he pulled out the LA times.

"Sure, whatever," I replied and then asked him a slew of questions. The flight delay gave us time to talk for nearly an hour more. Glorious. I asked him all the Sixteen Candle questions I could think of, and I even quoted my most favorite lines from the movie. I knew he must have been impressed by my wittiness and clear memory. Oh, wonderful flight delays. When they finally called for boarding, my new BFF and I walked to the gate.

"So," I said, now just standing inches from him. "Do you want to come over for dinner?"

Long Duck Dong tilted head and said, "I am sorry, but, we are not as good of friends as you think we are."

Hmm, How did I read that one wrong? Awkward. "Oh, ok. Maybe some other time." I scurried onto the plane and tried not to bother my Ex-new-BFF for the remaining flight.

Note To Self-- change you name

Day 1 at the BYU Writers for Young Readers Conference (a.k.a. my best hope for ever getting published) pretty much can be summed up in three simple words: Change Your Name.

Peggy and I arrived early enough to snag the two greatest seats (dead center, second row) in the auditorium of the BYU conference center. I sat, a flustered wreck, waiting for the authors, publishers, editors, and agents to file in and take their seats in front of me. When Tracy and Laura Hickman, a husband/wife writing team, walked past, I jumped out of my seat, and squealed with delight . . . Seriously, that's no lie. Tracy turned and waved hi.

Sigh.

Authors mingled and talked about their latest novels while I watched, giddy and keyed up for the start of the rest of my life.

And then it came. Tracey walked over and leaned in. "How are you?"

Gasp. oh, me, he's talking to me. "I'm fine. I am just so excited to be here. I saw you talk at LTUE and I just died over your address on the first sci-fi movie in space. I wish I could take your class on top of Janette Rallison's class, who I also love to death because her books are just so witty." And on, and on, and on, I rambled until Peggy shot me a look.

"So, tell me, do you have a book completed, or are you writing one?" Tracy glanced from Peggy to me.

"Yes, I do," I said stumbling over my words. "I mean, I have completed a novel."

"oh. Tell me about it." He tilted his head to the side and looked me square in the eye.

Nobody Panic. I've heard about this before. This is called a pitch. I can do this.

"My book, is um, about a, um girl." My breathing accelerated and any coherent thought I might have had scurried around my brain like a runaway dog. I was a MESS. "I mean, there is a girl. And um, her grandfather dies. Oh wait. He doesn't die, but she has to live in California with her mom. And she meets a boy." Your rambling. Stop rambling. "Did I say her name was Elliot? Yes well, she meets a boy and they fall in love."

The End.

My chances were gone within a second after opening my mouth. I looked at Peggy and then back to Tracy. My breathing slowed, and I said, "I think I need to work on my pitch, huh?"

"Yes," he agreed. The corners of his eyes lifted with the curve of his smile. If that's how I started the first moment of the rest of my writing life, then what's next in store?

Dear David,

You, my brother in law, are certainly one of the craziest people I know. Mark, my sweet hubby and your older bro, would most definitely have to agree with me. To run a 50 mile trail run through the wilderness off the Wasatch Mountains is beyond my understanding, my comprehension, my entire way of life. What type of person does that? I'll tell you- David "Freaking" Summerill does that. You are the Man of all Men. You are testosterone squared. You are awesomer than Awesome.

You are THE KING OF THE HILL! (or the mountain)

Way to go David for running, and completing the Squaw Peak Fifty.

ASK THE AUDIENCE: Would you ever want to run Fifty Miles?

"Eh Daddy, Catch the Crook!"

When Alecia and I stepped off the plane straight into the sweltering humid heat of Hilo Bay, I looked right at her and said, "I can't wait for you to meet my grampa (that is no typo...and to this day I still call him grampa instead of grandpa). Within minutes of maneuvering our way around first-time-to-the-islands dazed tourists, I saw my grampa standing just outside the shoebox sized terminal waiting with my grandma by his side--two pint-sized brown skinned islanders next to their rusted, blue boat of a vehicle.

Sigh. Stepping off that plane always made a part of me feel as though I'd arrived home. Grampa rushed forward and grasped at our luggage despite his foot shorter than me height. I distinctly remember how small he'd seemed then, instead of the great quiet man I once saw him as.

We piled into the mildew and plumeria scented car and drove along the volcanic black airport road, headed toward Hilo town. Grandma was so proud to have me and Alecia, two high school seniors, staying with her. She chatted merrily the entire ride...though I suspect from the darting glances I received from Alecia that my friend had no idea what Grandma's rich pidgin meant. To celebrate our arrival they filled our bellies at the "so Ono" Chinese restaurant just around the corner from Pennys while grandma asked question after question about our lives on the mainland. Eventually the food grew cold and our bellies extended far beyond a normal meal's filling. We loaded back into grampa's car and pulled out of the parking lot, headed to their home in Papaiko.

For the late afternoon, traffic had increased with drivers wanting to get home. Grampa waited and waited with one foot on the gas pedal and one foot firmly held on the brake. Each time there appeared to be a small gap in traffic, we all lurched forward from grampa's right foot slamming on the gas. And then flew back when grampa's left foot decided there wasn't enough time to make it across the busy road.

When grandma decided we'd waited long enough, she turned to Grampa. "Eh Daddy," she hollered (probably because her hearing wasn't the best) in a thick island pidgin, "Catch the Crook already!" To this, Alecia and I erupted in a fit of giggles.

Grampa died 10 years ago today. And though I know I will see him again, I cant help but miss his quiet ways, soft spoken voice, and loving generosity. I am lucky that my own dad is much like Grampa, so when I speak of him, my boys will have a sense of the great man my grampa was. I love you Grampa and look forward to spending time with you again.

I Just Cant Get Enough

This sweet little doll sure does love her daddy. Since she turned seven months yesterday I though it only appropriate to have a little Ruby photoshoot. I love you little girl...

Normally this next one would be in the trash pile, but I couldn't resist that tummy!

Monday's Fit Tip Mania...on Tuesday

A day late? Of course. Isn't that how life is sometimes. I figured since I didn't get around to posting yesterday, that could be my inspiration for today. Today, I am an on the ball blog poster.

Fitness goals always lingering in the back of your mind? Are you putting it off till . . .? Yeah, I've been there. I've thought, I'll start my fitness routine on Monday. And then sure enough, Monday rolls around and its 'not such a good day' and I end up waiting until the next Monday.

I say, why set that starting time at all? NO, I don't mean throw in the towel all together, I mean just become what you want to be.

Remember, you are who you are right now. Cheesy, corny...who gives a flip. It works for me. I am not the couch potato, m&m eating, Pepsi guzzling gal I was yesterday. Today I am the in shape, healthy eating, fun mom I want to be. (Sure, I may still be downing the diet Peppsi, and not look like the in shape mommy because of my actions from yesterday...but I can fake it.) As the greatest saying in the world goes,

Fake it Till You Make It

Shake off the chains of who you were yesterday and the day before that and be who you want to be today. Pretty soon, being who you want to be will show through!

ASK THE AUDIENCE: WHO are YOU today?