Blogalicious Ashley

Eulogy

2012-01-27T09:25:00.001-07:00

After I heard the news, I found myself eating excessively. Not something I have ever done. The only thing I could attribute the pressure in my head and the void to was low blood sugar, and low blood sugar means eating.

We took a train to D.C. for the funeral. They asked me if I wanted to help Christie and Brian prepare Carmon’s hair and make-up for the viewing. I said I was uncomfortable with dead bodies. I said I was uncomfortable with death.

We got up early. Head pumping, full of blood, flushed. Christie didn’t sleep well. Christie and Brian discussed breakfast. It would be easier to just grab something at Grandma and Grandpa’s old house before preparing the body. I told Christie I was hungry and didn’t want to eat in that gross house. I didn’t want to deal with the animals and screaming kids and mom when I was hungry. I couldn’t handle it. She told me it would be fine and that if I could live and eat in Russia for a year and a half, I could eat at Grandma and Grandpa’s. I said I felt manipulated when she made decisions for me and then rationalized them. She said it was a joke. I said I wanted to be consulted in the decision making process and it hurt my feelings when her and Brian just decided for me. I felt like a child. I told Brian this time I didn’t want to be left with mom when they couldn’t deal with her anymore. I told him I didn’t want to be the peacemaker. It was hard for me too. I told Christie to listenlistenlisten. She stormed out. Brian told me I bottle my emotions and let them out like Nagasaki.

At the funeral home, I changed my mind and asked the funeral director to show me into Carmon’s room. The room was tight and felt like a mix between a garage and a hospital room. It felt invasive, wrong. Christie was blow drying Carmon’s hair. Brian painted her fingernails pink. Mom watched. I examined her fingernails for Brian asking him when he’d be opening his own Manis and Pedis store. I twisted the rings on Carmon’s fingers—they would sit on straight forever. It was so quiet. I held Carmon’s basket of make-up. Christie asked me to find lip gloss. My vote was for the bright red tube of lipstick that looked like it was used once or twice and had melted in the car. I stopped. I ran my finger across Carmon’s right forearm, across the cold three starred tattoo, each star progressively smaller. I wondered what the tattoo meant and when she got it. I wanted the same tattoo on my right forearm immediately. Christie finished with her make-up. Carmon looked beautiful in her pink dress and Christie had managed, as Ruthie urged, to “put a little life back into her.” The room got smaller and colder. It was time to move Carmon back into her casket.

The last time I saw Carmon was two years ago at Grandma’s funeral. I don’t remember hugging her and hearing her update. I don’t remember talking to her. I don’t remember anything about Grandma’s funeral and even though it was only 2 years earlier, I had to look at pictures of us all for proof. All I remember was the pink lining in Grandma’s casket. Grandma and Carmon both loved pink.

Carmon’s funeral was on Saturday in a Mormon church. It would’ve been better for Nini if the funeral was on Friday, because Dave’s work rented out Six Flags for his work party that day. The chapel looked like peace signs, collages, doilies, pictures of Jesus, brick and pink fabric. It smelled like perfume and cigarettes. Kevin was wearing a pink tie and Ruthie wore pants. Most everyone wore flowers, because Carmon loves flowers. I didn’t know. I wore black.

Carmon’s friends spoke. They told about how Carmon loved bowling and how she bowled a 0 the very first time and then threw a tantrum in the bowling alley, and how she wanted to go back to the alley again try again, but her friend wouldn’t go unless she promised not to “act like a ‘tard.” She acted like a ‘tard again. They told about how Carmon was the life of the party and about her genuine smile. They talked about how she took life one day at a time. They talked about how many times they had to help her move her stupid blue couch from apartment to apartment. They talked about how she wanted to be Alice in Wonderland and lay in field of flowers, and how she’s probably doing that right now. Antoinette talked about how she didn’t like Carmon the first time she met her, because Carmon kissed her boyfriend, but the second time she saw Carmon, they clicked and somehow Carmon convinced her to come work at the tanning salon with her and they were friends ever since. Patrick spoke too. He talked about how he was happy when Carmon came from California, because he wasn’t the baby of the family anymore. He talked about how Carmon introduced him to most of his current friends, and how he came to get her at the club when she felt uncomfortable, and how she owed him for that, and when one day his ride left him to either swallow his pride or walk home, he called Carmon and before he could explain he was in trouble, she asked where he was and said she had his back. I didn’t know Patrick and Carmon were close.

Everyone wrote a memory of Carmon on a pink paper and put it in a basket. I thought of what I would write. My most distinct memory is going to a movie with my mom and Carmon one summer and that we both ate a lot of candy. All my other memories of Carmon are blurred. I left the basket empty. Everything blurred. I wasn’t mourning the moment, but mourning the 20 previous years of losing Carmon and my whole family, because we collectively couldn’t pull it together.

I made it a point to remember everything this time. I remembered it was good to Erika after ten years of no contact. I remembered little Ruthie losing it over Carmon’s coffin and that she took her high heels off even before the service started. I remembered how Patrick was dignified and smart and a grown-up and that he got a great deal on a foreclosure in Manassas. I watched Brianna, Kaitlan and Matthew climb around in the limo drinking waters and coca-cola. I remembered that Nini pulled me off into the gym to fill me in on family secrets like how Carmon’s real mom might show up and how Ruthie would let her stay and then really let her have it. I remembered how kind and normal Uncle Kevin and Aunt Ruthie are and how I always feel loved around them. I remembered Carmon’s pink casket and its location 30 feet from Grandma and Grandpa’s grave.

After the funeral, we spent time with my mom. No one really talked to each other. Brian and Christie walked in front of me. I walked slightly in front of Mom.

Reflections: 3rd Grade

2011-09-06T14:21:00.001-06:00

I just went through and de-junked a bunch of old stuff, and I came across this treasue. Yeah, this is my reflections piece from 3rd grade. I got a ribbon. This was before graphic design was in!

Who can I contact about this?

2011-03-18T20:36:00.002-06:00

How come we say "aren't," but not "amn't?" We really should say "amn't." I know it sounds weird initially, but let's break this down. I am right, aren't I? I am right, are I not? ORRRRRRR...I am right, amn't I? I am right, am I not?

Walden and Antarctica

2011-02-04T17:07:00.006-07:00

"I went into the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life and see if I could not learn what I had to teach, and not, when I came time to die, discover that I had not lived." -Thoreau

I think I’m going through my Thoreau stage of life. I mean…I don’t necessarily want to take off to Walden Pond and live in a shack, but I reflect often about the meat and bones of life and what practices really yield true happiness and true growth, and then I think about everything else. It seems like there are so many “everything else” type distractions from “the essential facts of life” and often time and energy is squandered on fluff that just does not matter. I get tired of the bright colored time wasters and want to spend my time on fruitful life-giving activities.

When I went to the University of Utah, I had the honor of being in a poetry class taught by Utah’s Poet Laureate, Katharine Coles. I think she encompassed this Thoreau-ism nicely. She talked about how she once had long, beautiful, flowing hair and would spend hours upon hours fussing about her hair until finally she realized all the time that was being wasted on her hair and she shaved it off. She’s had a shaved head ever since.

I’m not saying the solution to really living is shaving our heads, but the metaphor is beautiful—each person can search to identify what distracts their energy, focus and time from really living and cut it off to spend time on practices that make life joyful. This can be different for each person. Katharine Coles recently spent time in Antarctica writing poetry and learning about the sciences.

I think I'll spend some more time thinking about what my Walden Pond or Antarctica really is and report back, but for starters, I simply want to slow down.

Dear Tooth Fairy!

2010-11-08T12:18:00.005-07:00

I really miss being little. Not just because it was awesome to have a care-free life of no responsibilities and endless imagination time, but also because I said and did the most awesome and hilarious things ever.

Last night, I found this old treasure--a note I wrote to the Tooth Fairy.

My adult head specifically remembers losing my tooth and really hoping that the Tooth Fairy would still give me my prize money, despite my negligence. I also love the added value statement of it being a molar...not just a regular tooth...so obviously I would need more money for it.

Enjoy!

Sidenote: I always thought that the Tooth Fairy rolled around at night in a red fire engine. Did anyone else think that?

My Poem to Welcome Summer

2010-04-08T16:41:00.005-06:00

Capsaicin’s Mother
She straps on her snake-skin heels,
torch lights her cigarette,
charges outside like a Spanish bull,
and cries "there will be no mercy when we're burning in hell!"

She stops at the local station to fuel,
gas gushing down both sides the flame-orange and black bike
forming a river of combustible temptation sweltering down the concrete.
She smiles, tosses her cig in the stream and heads to Death Valley.

When she arrives in the Center,
she is more than fuel-fired charcoal;
she is more than Red Savina Habanero,
or petrol, or desert, or Venus.
No Scoville will tell her what she is or what to do,
so she settles down, flips off the sun,
and sets up her lawn chair to stay.

Charlie Brown Parents Man

2010-01-27T14:16:00.001-07:00

One of my glorious work tasks is to take notes at our weekly sales meetings. There is this one guy on the team who I literally cannot understand one word that comes out of his mouth. No, he doesn't have a speech impediment. No, he is not from another country. He is a 100% native English speaking American. To me, he sounds like he is talking in the back of his throat in a microphone under water.

All I hear is "maovneoa amoewha mfasdh aheouf emeoa aswemmah."

It's like the parents on Charlie Brown every time he talks.

Is it bad if my notes for him are as follows:

"Things are looking good in aAlaskeieano. We're having some problems regarding frigmaticlsih, so if everyone could halibpul muawaw waajle, that would be extremely helpful. Also, it is ABSOLUTELY lucrative that we frimahlwu woafh aweoiht. So, if everyone could awouiehfaw and oeoauvoea lallll, our company would really benefit. In fact, make sure all your teams know to muwhy49erawowwwlll, or we might not succeed."

Hmmmm? Crap. What?!?!

I Reek of Russia and I Love It!

2009-06-27T15:33:00.004-06:00

Highlights from Russia so far:

1. Told everyone I was coming to visit them on Saturday...Jeni and I BOTH thought it was Friday, so I managed to ditch everyone, while having a nice gulyat' in Moscow.

2. Saw Faberzhe egg special collection at the Pushkin Museum. AWESOME. I want one for my birthday.

3. Asked someone to take my picture on Red Square and it turned out to be Alice Cooper's band. They got mildly flirty with us and asked us to come to their concert. Alice Cooper is a bit scary, so we'll have to see about that.

4. Sloshed through throw up on the metro. I feel asleep for like one station and I got up in a panic and as it turns out...someone else had a panic and managed to barf right on my standing place, and I literally had slippery throw up feet. Was wearing flip flops. Had to pay 39 rubles for "gas water" that Jeni poured on my feet while I winced in grossed-out-edness.

5. Meet up with sweet Larisa O....my favorite companion ever, and some grossies tried to pick up on us. One of them pinched Jeni's butt. I punched him in the shin.

6. Missed the last bus to Rosinka (a place no one in Russia knows about)--missed it NOT because we weren't there on time, but probably because we were not on the correct side of the street. Yeah, then we sat and twirled our hair and smiled at boys who naturally asked us if we wanted a ride. Turns out they were from Georgia (country, not state) and their dads were in another car giving us the mafia/creepster look. We didn't know the address (totally RUSSIAN SELO type of place where it's just Rosinka and a house number...no address), so we call the emergency number and find out it's close to a place called Mitino. We pray in our hearts. God sends Russian guardian angel driver, who doesn't know where Rosinka is either, but finds it and doesn't charge us anything for the ride, because it was so "priyatno" (nice) for him to be with us. Wow! I love being cute.

7. I smell like chimney just from being here. No really...I do.

P.S. It's now Sunday...the day that comes after Saturday (aka Fake Friday)

Blonde Attack

2008-10-06T19:07:00.005-06:00

You all know what I'm talking about, right? Moments where your neurotransmitters scream "no" and and fold their arms in strike. Moments that sneak up out of nowhere and cause embarrassment and surprise. Moments where you wish you had a real-life rewind time button. Moments where the peroxide seeps a little too deep into your skull. You know them. They're called Blonde Attacks.

My most recent Blonde Attack.

Me: So...you're going to be a lawyer? What kind of questions do they ask on the LSAT?(Yes, I already know, but I wanted him to keep talking to me).
Hottie: Here, let my show you my LSAT study book.
Me: Wow! These look really hard. It would take me like AN HOUR to finish this test.
Hottie: Actually, the test is about 2.5 hours long.
Me: Oh.

An hour? Oh dear. I hope I didn't ruin my chances of seducing him. He's v. cute. I am just going to have to practice saying really funny and smart things to him from now on. Any ideas?

I am my own book club

2008-06-25T17:58:00.006-06:00

Since I am taking those awesome graduate courses that equals a candy semester made up of reading shiznet I would've read anyway, I thought I would at least provide the world with a short review/random thoughts about the books I've read so far. Here goes.

Crime and Punishment

Hello...anxiety central. I felt like a total creep while reading this book, but didn't lose interest. The characters and psychology are so real, and it twisted my mind to identify, in ways, with the characters, and also to completely separate my ideas and thought patterns with those portrayed in the book. I both loved and hated Raskolnikov (fyi: Raskolnik in Russian means "religious desenter;" yeah, I looked it up and now I can impress my bloggership). Mostly, I felt sorry for Raskolnikov as he was portrayed as a real person and a criminal--a loving son, brother and boyfriend, a passionate and compassionate member of society and a complete psychopath and murder. Lesson learned: root yourself in real life moments, attach yourself to real people that force you into understanding, socializing, and partaking of reality, rather than letting the creative and analytical sides of your brain turn into Crazy and float away in theory, until you've lost touch with reality and done something you can't take back. Recommended: Yes!

Eugene Onegin

Classic tale of idiot man, driven by passions, always looking for something better and who doesn't figure out what's important and valuable until it's too late. The book is translated poetry. I'm hoping to read it in Russian, because I have a feeling it's a lot better in Russian, but it's still good in English. I bet a good comparison is like an iced fountain diet coke (Russian version) vs. a hot bottled diet coke (English)...still good, but just not the same. Lessons learned: Every Tatiana has an Onegin, and pull your head out of your butt, Onegin. Recommended: Yes, but read in Russian, unless you don't speak Russian, then read it in warm, flat, but still fizzy and quite caffeinated Diet Coke.

Anna Karenina

Snore. Snoresnoresnore. I couldn't figure out why I had to listen to Anna bitch and whine for all those pages. If you want a happy life, Anna, then make good choices. She really could have thrown herself in front of the train about 700 pages before she did. Lessons Learned: Watch TV (Lost or American Idol) instead of reading books. Recommended: If you're gonna read a MILLION pages of Russian Literature, read Brothers Karamozov.

Dead Souls

Confession: was supposed to finish, but have only read 148 pages. More later.

If I were made out of paint, this is where I'd be

2008-06-25T17:43:00.002-06:00

Thaiglish

2008-06-23T16:15:00.004-06:00

Not only is Thailand an adventure full of history and beauty, it is a complete hilarity for someone studying second language acquisition.

Exhibit A: Phonetics

Exhibit B: Morphology

Exhibit C: Syntax

I'd like to bear my testimony that I know that what I'm studying is not a waste.

Favorite Conversation of June

2008-06-19T16:09:00.001-06:00

In an elevator in Chiang Mai with two Middle Eastern men

Middle Eastern Man: Where are you from?

My Little Brother: America

Ashley: Where are you from?

Middle Eastern Man: Afghanistan

Really Awkward Silence

Middle Eastern Man: Something unintelligible

Me: What?

Middle Eastern Man: We are in a war. We are fighting.

Uncomfortable Awkward Laughing

Me: Good thing we’re not fighting.

Doors open. Middle Eastern Men exit.

My Clone: Part II

2008-05-14T20:37:00.005-06:00

I forgot to tell you all that my clone made another appearance.

I went to get Dayna Get Well Soon Flowers today and the store owner the store gave me a deal and reminded me that the cards were complimentary, because "I am one of his regulars."

I have never been to that florist ever.

My clone gives people flowers REGULARLY!!!

A Clone or a Personality Disorder?

2008-04-09T12:21:00.002-06:00

Okay, first I'm going to give you the details. Then, perhaps, we can draw some conclusions.

Things keep happening to me without my knowledge.

Yesterday, I received an award at the Linguistics Banquet for being a fabulous member of the Graduate Student Association Council. Um...I had no idea I was on the GSA and if I was on it, I certainly haven't done anything, let alone anything that deserves an award. Whatever. I'm putting it on my resume. I have a certificate to prove it.

Then, I got an e-mail from Dr. Hart (Russian Department Chair) asking me when we could meet with Veronika (I don't know Veronika) to talk about teaching Russian 101 Spring semester. ??? The last conversation I had with him included him asking me if I was teaching in Spring, me saying "I don't know," and him saying, "well, if you don't know...that probably means you're not teaching." Then, I told him I was going to Thailand in Spring. End of story.

Then, I came back to work today at my scheduled time of 5:30am-9:30am, only to find people asking me why I was there since my schedule was 12:30pm-4:30pm. My schedule is 12:30-4:30? I have zero recollection of a schedule change.

Here's the thing. I think I have a clone. I have a clone that is going around doing good things like organizing events for the linguistics graduate students, agreeing to teach Russian, and scheduling my work so that I don't have to come at the crack of dawn anymore. I love my clone.

I wonder if my clone will find me a hot man-friend.

The other option is I have a multiple personality and Regular Me doesn't remember what Other Me agrees to.

I hope it's not the latter option. What do you guys think?

Twinsies?

2008-03-06T12:34:00.017-07:00

You know how sometimes people pull the “you look exactly like someone I know,” thing and then you really hope it’s not somoene totally ugly and disgusting looking?!?!

One time someone told me that I looked like this guy they knew. Bast-itch (That's my new unisex swear word to express disgust in another person).

Anyway, recently, someone told me that I looked like Lexi Grey from Grey's Anatomy. Since I rarely watch TV, I didn't know who that was.

Then, I googled and found this:

I've studied the picture for a long time trying to decide if that green shirt brings out her eyes the same way in which it would bring out mine and if her brown hair is quite and flowy as mine. I've decided that this can only be settled by comparing some of my best pictures to hers.

Me in my work outfit:

Lexi in her work outfit:

Me in front of the camera:

Lexi in front of the camera:

Me with a friend:

Lexi with a friend (my boyfriend):

I don't know...what do you guys think?

Twin Day at the Beach in Florida!

2008-02-18T12:09:00.003-07:00

Don't they know?

Political Culinary Arts!

2008-02-09T16:00:00.001-07:00

I think I'm most happy when I'm using my talents in life for the betterment of America. As so, I've come up with a new hobby. It's called political culinary arts. Not only do I feel the enjoyment of domesticity and of creatively expressing my political opinions in a short, sassy and sometimes snide way, but once the creation is complete, you get a really tasty treat. Win-win.

My first political culinary creation was a sad sugar cookie scene where Frosty the Snowman (first sugar cookie) was holding an AK-47 (second sugar cookie) and had just shot Rudolf (third sugar cookie) and mounted poor Rudolf on his taxidermied-wall. This creation was a sweet (literally) lesson in gun control.

As per my recent disappointment in the Rebublican Party, here is my second of political culinary creations. Enjoy!

Gordon B. Hinckley

2008-02-03T09:50:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to express my gratitude for the life of President Gordon B. Hinckley. I'm grateful for his love and dedicated service to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and especially for his emminating love of the Savior and his righteousness.

I am grateful that God provides us with continuing revelation and prophets to lead us and guide us.

Harry Potter Thesis Fun

2008-01-28T20:47:00.000-07:00

I must give two enthusiastic thumbs up to Dr. Manning for chosing the world's funniest thesis ever to read for this week's assignment. It's over a 100 pages of pure Harry Potter hilarity.

Here are some excerpts. Try not to pee.

"...a half-giant Hagrid flies on motorcycle which then "fell out of the air and landed" (16). Like the angel Gabriel come to announce that a human being, Mary, will bear and raise God's son, so Hagrid delivers Harry, the child of magicians to an ordinary man and woman, that they may raise him."

Really? Hagrid a type of Gabriel? Don't know how that slipped past me while reading HP.

I think this one is my favorite so far:

"We now leave the subject of environmentally ignorant scenes to discuss the rich subject of environmentally deprecating language. In Harry Potter popular and conventional stereotypes about animals are used to insult human beings. We typically think this is funny or clever; sometimes we protest that the insults are unfair towards the unfortunate human recipients of the insults; the following analysis will show that these stereotypes and insults equally misrepresent the animals.Rowling writes of young Dudley, "his piggy little eyes [were] fixed on the [television] screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate continuously" (TPOA 18). This insult employs the popular stereotype of pigs as excessive eaters. Like most stereotypes, this one is not based on reality. Pigs, like most creatures, will only eat too much if held captive and overfed; in their natural state animals, even in the presence of abundant food, rarely if ever suffer from obesity. The stereotype not only reiterates popular values, it shows a lack of compassion for the obese."

BWAAA HA HA HA! HA HA HA!

"The visit of the three gift-bearing wise men to the new-born Christ is also altered by Rowling. Shortly after Harry's birth three wise persons visit him, and they are Dumbledore (the Headmaster of Hogwarts),McGonagall (a professor), and Hagrid (he will later teach students how to care for magical creatures). However, whereas in the Gospel story the wise men deliver gifts to the new-born Christ, Rowling's wise persons deliver the saviour Harry to his uncle and aunt."

Ummm???? Okay?!?!

"In Chapter Fifteen of TCOS spiders are portrayed as a definite danger to human life. Aragog, the spider leader, cannot restrain his mob of spiders from being overpowered by the desire to eat Harry and Ron. Of course the boys are saved, but not by a bird or other natural predator of spiders, but by the Ford Anglia "thundering down the slope, head lamps glaring, its horn screeching, knocking spiders aside" (207). Scenes such as this would rightfully be exciting, even funny, if their humour and drama did not rely on our ignoring the reality that automobiles are a far more common source of death than spiders. Wwe might defend Rowling on the basis that her misrepresentation of reality is funny precisely because it is a misrepresentation. However, I am not criticising Rowling's ability to make a grim reality something light and frivolous, nor am I speaking as an extremist neo-Luddite. Certainly technology sometimes serves human needs better than untouched Nature. My criticism concerns the fact that Rowling is unfairly biased towards technology, for she rarely paints Nature with the lightness and humour she reserves for technology

"A similar theme marks Rowling's "Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans"(TPS 78). These jelly-bean rip-offs come in all assorted flavours,including vegetable flavours. Ron bites into a sprout-flavoured bean and expresses his disgust. In reality a sprout could be one of the healthiest things any character in Harry Potter eats, but in all likelihood even a sprout-flavoured bean would provide none of the roughage and nutrients which the unprocessed vegetable could provide. Once again Rowling removes her readers far from the natural world, and moves the fantasy genre very close to our technophilic world."

Oh. My. Hell. I think I am going to post a paragraph from this thesis on my blog every week.

And I'm Grateful

2008-01-26T23:59:00.001-07:00

Since I just had a cleansing where I purged my closet of all frumpiness (well, I kept two mission vests...sick, I know, and one "dingy" sweater and another "ugly" shirt--3 votes for "ugly" and mine was for "not that bad/am in denial cuz I kind of like it"). Anyway, since I got rid of a bazillion clothes, naturally, I had to go on a late Christmas-shopping-for-myself spree, and all the spending got me thinking/guilting about how much I have. How I've never wanted. Never. Ever. Not once. I don't know what it's like to need something and not have it. I have food. I have health. I have a family. I have friends. I have a car. I have an education. I have a body. I have. I have. I have. Everything.

I think the hardest thing for me coming home from my mission was motivating myself to care about all the things. A bigger house. A perfect family. Vacations. Cars. Wal-Mart. Clothing (which might explain the catastrophe that was my closet earlier today).

It was hard, because real people like Bogdanna were still so real to me. Bogdanna, who didn't have a house, because it burnt from the inside out, and we (two sister missionaries with no experience) were rebuilding and remodelling over the burnt pieces, because she didn't have money for wood.

Her house was always muddy.

Bogdanna feed us boiled eggs (boiled in a glass jar with an electric heater--not on a stove with a pot) and fresh goat milk (that was surprisingly good and tasted more close to American milk than anything I had there) every single time we came to help put up newspaper on the walls and then put pathetic wallpaper over that in an attempt to have the boards resemble walls again.

Her bathroom was outside.

I wanted to take a picture of Bogdanna that would show her life to my family, to my friends, to everyone I know here, so they would believe it and understand, but a picture would never capture the dirt under her fingernails, the cold, the dogs she shewed away that always barked viciously at us and the one that bit my boot once, the smallness of her world, her thick Ukrainian accent, or how she's a survivor every day.

Her house was protected by a wooden gate and a metal lock.

A picture of a woman in an old, red, dingy, throw away shirt that was beautiful to her, that she made me promise to let her change into and comb her hair before taking a picture together, would never show any of what I felt and what I understood and how I changed just from meeting her and witnessing her humility.

Bogdanna measured the wallpaper with her fingers, cut it with a butter knife and glued it on with home-made glue.

The picture of Bogdanna never has been stopped at and discussed, but I'm glad that I know Bodganna and that knowing her reminds me to stop and re-evaluate what kinds of things I should keep and what kinds of things I should throw away. After 2 years of being home, I realize it's different here. It's different for me, and I'm grateful, but even more so, I really am grateful for Bogdanna.

Memoirs of 2 Sundance Film Festival Goers

2008-01-20T14:21:00.000-07:00

I have just recently been reading about the new Sundance Film Flicks. So far, I am really interested in seeing the following:

The Linguists
Hamlet 2
Mermaid

But, that's not why I am blogging. The reason for this blog is to take my readership back to 2003 to enjoy a glimpse of my past.

Some of you may know that Zachary Dukepoo and I have been friends for quite some time. Quite a bunch of fun-having has been had by Ashley and Zach the past 15 years. However, one of the funnest (this word is officially in the dictionary now, so I'm using it) and funniest events in the History of Zach and Ashley was Sundance Film Festival 2003.

Zach got these sweet tickets to an insider party exclusively for owners of Volkswagen Bugs (some of you may have seen the State Farm Bug driving around...Albrecht family ownership of that baby is what got us in). Anyway, we drove to the party. It was totally fun. We ugly danced around, had a few Red Bulls, someone thought that my Zach was Zach Braff starring in Garden State, and then the Zach Fan Man didn't believe him when he said that he was a Zach, but not Zach Braff. Then, I felt like the date of a famous person as the guy stared at us the rest of the time and spread rumors about Zach's famousness.

Well, the night went great and around 1:30am, immune to the Red Bulls, we were super tired and we decided we had Park City partied enough and it was time to go back to Provo.

I don't know if any of you remember the Great Inversion of 2003, but for a few weeks, it was 100% foggy and driving home on that night was like driving through an ozone-sized glass of Vitamin D milk.

We had been driving through the milk for about 2 hours, excited to reach our destination, and just as I had dozed off, I awoke to the shout of Zach, "WE'RE IN WYOMING!!!" Confused and alarmed, I exclaimed, "No!" (Actually, I don't remember what I said). However, to my dismay, there was the Welcome to Utah sign staring down at our tired selves.

We laughed for a hundred years, took pictures at the Welcome to Utah sign, and then drove our pretty selves back to Provo, making it home shortly after 4am.

What I Could Be Doing Instead of Graduate School

2008-01-09T15:23:00.000-07:00

Distraught from my recent work and school overload, I have firmly decided to change my career goals. My new life goal is to get inducted into International Clown Hall of Fame.

This brilliant idea of dropping out of graduate school and becoming a clown struck me as I was toting my books through the snow and a girl (non-clown) rode by me on a unicycle. Now there is a lady with the right idea.

Rocking Thoughts on Prayer

2008-01-04T17:24:00.000-07:00

I recently ran across an article in the LDS Church News that re-caped some of the words offered at BYU Hawaii by Dallin H. Oaks. He emphasized that the Internet can be a great place to spread the gospel and to clear up any questions that people may have about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

I have added the links to two separate church websites on the right side of my blog, which are a great source of correct information about the church. My other suggestion to learn about the church would be to have the full-time missionaries in your area teach the the lessons.

I just got done reading a passage from Jesus the Christ by James E. Talmage and it rocked my world, so I thought I would share it.

"It is well to know that prayer is not compounded of words, words that may fail to express what one desires to say, words that so often cloak inconsistencies, words that may have no deeper source than the physical organs of speech, words that may be spoken to impress mortal ears. The dumb may pray, and that too with the eloquence that prevails in heaven. Prayer is made up of heart throbs and the righteous yearnings of the soul, of supplication based on the realization of need, of contrition and pure desire. If there lives a man who has never really prayed, that man is a being apart from the order of the divine in human nature, a stranger in the family of God's children. Prayer is for the uplifting of the suppliant. God without our prayers would be God; but we without prayer cannot be admitted to the kingdom of God. So did Christ instruct: 'Your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him.'"

And yet another Schadenfreude!

2008-01-03T12:18:00.000-07:00

Travel Fever

2007-12-22T12:08:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite things in the world to do is shimmy. I've made it a life resolution to leave my mark on important historical places in the form of a unique Ashley shimmy, which is definitely trademarked and as tempted as each new hot upcoming pop or hip-hop star might be to copy the shimmy in music videos, it is forbidden. That being said, you should know, shimmying helps me connect to the places I visit. It helps me bond.

Here are some examples:

Moscow Shimmy

Ancient City of Ephesus Shimmy

Pamukkale Shimmy (please excuse the swimming suit and what I would proudly love to claim as cleavage)

In 2008, my resolution is to shimmy in the following places:

1. Bangkok, Thailand

2. Hong Kong, China

Woop! Woop! I can't wait until June.

Nina

2007-12-19T21:11:00.001-07:00

I just read one of the sweetest tributes to a friend on Kathleen's blog and it reminded me of how valuable our words are. I hope that Kath's blog is shared with Jason's family and I hope it acts as a reminder to share our words. I've wanted to write down some of my thoughts for a long time, so thanks to Kathleen for helping me remember.

Нина

I was so excited to go back to Russia. I had been planning over and over in my head my visit to people that I had virtually no contact with since serving in Tula. The first people I went to see were Nina and her son, Immanuel.

Nina would make us Russian soup and tea every time we came and wouldn't let us stop eating until either everything was gone or until she was convinced that we had eaten enough to last us throughout the day. We usually had to plan ahead and try our best not to eat anything beforehand and always had to tag-team it to reorganize our plates when she wasn't looking, Sister Kellie shoving fish on my plate and me passing on extra pelmeni to her. Easter was the best/worst....so good, but soso much.

Nina had hundreds of icons littering her walls, doors, shelves and knew the story of each icon, which she relayed to us often. She loved to talk about the Bible and wanted to learn as much and share as much as she could. Instead of reading the verse we had selected to illustrate what we were teaching, she would read from the verse to the end of the chapter and wouldn't look up or pause until she'd finished reading everything. We started planning our lessons to include whole chapters, as it was unavoidable.

I remember the time she tromped around in a rage and threatened to give us all of the corn in her house because "corn was against the word of wisdom (???)," and I remember the time when Kellie and I were so scared to teach her because we had 2 months of being in Russia (put together) under our belts and it was the first lesson ever where we had to communicate solely in Russian and understand. We didn't know what to do, so we just prayed really hard and she was so kind and spoke slowly and made us feel so comfortable.

She would always listen and she would often argue. She would ask us to pray and repeat anything out loud that she agreed with. If she didn't have a treat for us, she would go down to the store and get priyaniky while we taught Immanuel English. She would laugh and smile every time we included her on the English lesson and thought it was silly for her to produce English, but would participate because it made Immanuel happy.

She was so Orthodox and sometimes the things she said were so downright weird (like the story about the ожог that got healed...or something) and sometimes she thought the things we said were weird, but there was one time when we sat down and just sang hymns and the Spirit was so strong and we felt so much love.

Nina was so kind and a great friend and I couldn't wait to see her again.

When I went to see her, her ornery neighbor (the one that would always yell at us to shut the door) was leaning out the window and her other neighbor was sitting on a bench in front of the подьезд, and when I went to open the door, Bench Neighbor asked me who I was looking for. When I said, "Nina and Immanuel," she informed me she had died a month earlier in a fire trying to get someone out of the burning store and couldn't get out.

Мы тебя любим и по тебе скучаем и десветельно “мы плачим каждый день.”