Ma'am, your follow-through is busted.

If I was a car, that would be the diagnosis from my mechanic.

The summer before I started high school, I attended a basketball day camp that our Athletic Director put together every year. One of the nuggets we were given was BEEF.

B - Bend your knees

E - Eyes on the basket

E - Elbows bent

F - Follow-through

Even if you did "BEE", you wouldn't make your shot. You had to include the "F". I have been seriously lacking in follow-through lately. Not so much at work, I'm actually pretty good with it there. Of course my job offers a different kind of motivation than my personal life, but I wish it didn't.

There are plenty of things that I want to do, that I know if I did them, it would make me happy. For instance, a clean house - makes me happy. No dirty dishes in the sink - makes me happy. Running or exercise - makes me happy. Sending cards/emails to friends and family - makes me happy. Writing new posts on the blog - makes me happy. So what's the problem? I can't convince myself to do any of them. Eventhough I know they won't really take that long to do and I know how happy and good I will feel after I do them (sometimes even during), I can't motivate myself to start. I'm going to be a big girl and admit that this is entirely my own fault. But how do you give yourself a swift kick in the pants? My legs are just not that long...

One of my key issues is that I'm really good at making excuses, no, not just excuses, justifications. Normally I try to be proud of my talents, but this one just gets me into trouble. The other part of the problem is that I create these ridiculous expectations in my head for every task which help them seem even more difficult and impossible - so why start? I used to have a slight issue with OCD - If I started to clean something I would have to thoroughly clean it. For example, when I was still single I started to wipe down the stovetop one Saturday afternoon and then noticed dirt and grime around the knobs, then I saw "stuff" all over the oven door, which led me to the other two sides of the oven that I could reach. Then once I was down on the floor I noticed that the kitchen tiles could use a real scrub, so off I went, scrubbing the kitchen floor on my hands and knees with a sponge and old toothbrush. That's right - PSYCHO. Not that it's a bad thing to thoroughly clean your kitchen every now and then, but not being able to stop until you've wiped up every possible microscopic crumb or spill is a daunting task. So, in my head, this is still what I expect to happen everytime I clean.

Here is where I have to be honest with myself. I think I'm past that stage. I'm pretty sure that I now have the self control to stop when I'm done with what I wanted to accomplish. I think I can wipe down the countertops and even the stove top and not end up pulling the fridge out to clean behind and all around it. However, how convenient of an excuse/justification is it that I just can't stop myself from doing that and I really just don't have the time or energy to take on a project like that...it's a vicious cycle, trust me.

Probably the worst part is the guilt I feel when I don't get any of these things done. The worst is when Kent volunteers to do it, or just does it. I know I should be grateful that he wants to help out, but it only reminds me of what I didn't do myself. Not to mention that he always seems to have a simple and obvious solution for everything, as I'm sure most men do. Yeah, I'm airing all sorts of dirty laundry for you today.

So, what do I do? I wish I had a nice moral to this story to wrap it up, but I just haven't gotten there yet. I know I just need to suck it up and get some things done. I just need to set smaller goals for myself, come up with a regular system to accomplish it all. It's just that simple, right? Well, we'll see how it goes. I'm hoping that by putting this out there, it will serve as the "kick in the pants" I so desperately need.

Follow-through Mel, follow-through.

March 10, 1999

Exactly 10 years ago, I left my home for the first time without my family to go on my mission. I can remember that day perfectly. In the morning, I drove with my Dad out to the American Fork 5 Buck Pizza to check on the Point-of-Sale software I had installed there, with many, MANY bugs in it. Then we drove back to Orem on State Street, taking the long way to have a long talk about my next 2 years. It was a very nice day, sunny and approaching 70 degrees.

My girlfriend, Hillary, showed up around 11 AM, and we spent some last mushy moments together, but doing nothing like holding hands or kissing, of course. Then my dad gave me a blessing, we packed up the minivan with my suitcases and siblings, and drove on down to the MTC.

Once we arrived, it was very much like the movie "Called to Serve". We all filed into this large hall, sitting with our families, watching herds of families come in behind us. LDS commercials played on the big screen ("Families...isn't it about TIME?"), but I couldn't laugh as nervous as I was. I was bracing myself for the onslaught of emotions. Some guy came out and gave a talk, probably the MTC president, I don't remember, and then it was time to say goodbye. I hugged my siblings and said goodbye to Hillary without shedding many tears, but once I hugged my mom, it was all over. I turned into a blubbering idiot, and walked out of the hall with waterfalls coming down my cheeks. I shook and sniffled like a 2-year-old for the next 5 minutes as we were herded down to the bookstore to pick up our stuff. Sometime in there I was assigned a companion, Elder Gaufin. I grabbed my stuff and found my dorm-room, in one of the southern-most building, I feel like it was building 13. I unpacked my stuff, and lay down on my bed for a minute. I remember staring up at the ceiling thinking, "This is the first day of 2 more years of this." That thought depressed and scared me. Would I be able to do it? It seemed so long at the time.

Today, it's 10 years later. And I can still remember most of that day. When I think of how much I've accomplished, how much I've changed, and all that's happened in those 10 years, it really boggles my mind. I was trying to think of a way to list all of these things without sounding like a braggart, but that's just impossible when you're truly awesome. And humble.

Accomplishments:
Finished my mission
Installed my pizza software at a bunch of 5 Buck Pizzas
Graduated from BYU
Got a job
Moved to Boston
Got married
Bought a house
Mowed the lawn

Places I've been:
Poland
Russia
Standard Euro countries
Nepal
Thailand
Hong Kong
Japan
Egypt
Idaho
Cambodia

Changes:
Fatter
Dorkier
Balder
Wiser
Hairier
Slower
Lazier
Wealthier

Where will I be in 10 years? On my mission, I received a letter from my 15-year-old self. Brother Hull, my 9th grade seminary teacher had us all write letters to ourselves that he would send us in 5 years. I totally forgot about it, but when I got it, it was a source of immense humor. I was the stupidest kid! Most of my thoughts were on the crushes I had at the time. So on my mission, I wrote a letter to myself that I would open up in 1 year, since there was no way I would remember past that. In that letter, I made predictions for where I would be in 1 year, 5 years, 10 years, etc. I found it last year when we were moving and Mel and I had a good laugh. I would share some of it, but I don't remember any of it. When I find it, you'll be the first to know.

I was thinking that I would make predictions here, but after writing out a few of them, I decided not to. They're much funnier when the time has passed and you can see how wrong you were. I know, I know, not fun at all. So here's a few impersonal predictions:

1. Cars will be flying in 2015.
2. The Cubs will finally return to the World Series in 2017, only to be swept by the Omaha Indians.
3. The Simpsons will come back for their 30th season. It will still be 30 minutes of Homer being incredibly stupid and unfunny.

That reminds me, I saw some movie on cable the other day that was set in post-apocolyptic Boston, where people all spoke different languages, disease was rampant, and the entire city was a war zone. This was supposed to be 2007. The movie was made in 1997. Why would you make a movie where the future is so horrendously different, but it's only been 10 years? I'm rambling now.

Angry about Angry

I had an Angry Whopper last night. Even though I didn't ask them to hold the Angry, they went ahead and held it anyway. That's right, no jalapenos. So was I excited that I didn't have to pick out the jalapenos? No! And here's why, I'm going to tell you right now, if you just keep reading you'll find out, don't give up, you're almost there: Because the Angry Whopper (minus the Angry) was no good. It tasted like a regular Whopper, but with onion rings and a smidgen of Angry sauce. It turns out that the jalaps add a good amount of flavor to the sandwich, even if you pick them out. Because of that, my Angry was most Unsatisfactory. Plus, there was this huge clump of iceberg lettuce that took up half my sandwich. I hate it when they give me the huge clumps of iceberg.

So it tasted like a regular Whopper, which is what I used to order before his angry brother came along. So that's not such a bad thing, is it? Of course it is! That's like going back to a crappy old Nokia when you've been using a Blackberry Curve for the last 3 years! Once you go Blackberry, you don't go back (berry).

My point here is that the Angry Whopper didn't reach its potential. It could be so much better, but one of the highly-motivated BK employees screwed it all up. It withheld its greatness from the world. Let this be a lesson to us all. I feel like closing this with a standard Mormon ending to a talk or a prayer (you know what I'm talkin' about, don't pretend like you've never had the urge to say it in a normal conversation--or maybe you have a meeting at work and you feel like you should open it with a song and a prayer). But I won't.

A Date with an Angry King

Do yourself a favor and stop reading this post, right now. Get yourself an Angry Whopper. They're delicious.

I, myself, do not fancy myself a "hothead", you know, someone who loves spicy foods. I feel like too much spice takes away from the flavor of the meal. I am rather a "tanghead", and really like tangy barbecue sauce or anything else described as tangy, zesty, or tart. But I couldn't resist such a clever name as the "Angry Whopper". I took the plunge.

It was delicious! The first bite was more tangy than spicy, a distinct barbecue flavor. In fact, it wasn't really all that spicy until you get to the jalapenos, and even those are pretty tame. I end up picking out all the jalapenos now. I would ask them to hold the jalaps, but how do I say it without looking like an absolute wimp? "I'd like an Angry Whopper, hold the Angry"? I don't think so. This kind of behavior prompts otherwise-highly-motivated fast-food employees to spit in your sandwich. So I'll continue picking the jalaps out on my own, thank you very much.

I've been eating an Angry Whopper a week, and each time it's a great experience. It reminds me of some Wendy's burger they had during high school, I can't remember what it was called, but it was something like the Pepperjack Burger. They had this tangy Pepperjack sauce that I could've eaten with a spoon. I had that burger every day for lunch, it costed 2 bucks by itself. A Pepperjack and a water. Then they discontinued it. Not a visit goes by to Wendy's where I don't look for the return of the Pepperjack. And I shed a tear. Shed a tear for the Pepperjack burger, people, it's gone to Burger heaven with Dave Thomas.

Shall the Angry Whopper have an ignominious fate like the Pepperjack? Not if you all sprint to your local BK and let The King know you love his new sandwich. Maybe this will keep him away from your windows in the morning.