Rah, Rah, Rasputin!

When was the last time you went on a Nightflight to Venus? For me it had been awhile.

When I was about 4, my Dad returned from a business trip to Hong Kong bearing gifts. Cutie embroidered silk robes, China dolls, and a Boney M tape, Nightflight to Venus. Hot, very hot. Quite disco, occasionally a little Carribbean, a little of this-and-that thrown in, and that's Boney M. Popular in Europe in the late 70's, they never made it too big in the US, but there was a small cult following. The Younces were part of it. That's right, they were with us on those 2-week road trips in the van. They were put on after dinner for us to dance our blood-sugar-energy-rush off before bed. This album was part of our youth in the same way Mom's Chicken-and-Noodles and the smell of ripe grapes on the vine were. We can probably even attribute my first exposure to, and therefore the start of the love of, disco to this tape.

In high school, when I started discovering my own taste for modern alternative, classic folk and disco music, I returned to Boney M. Dug the tape out and put it in my prized collection. I mentioned it to friends and got blank looks in return. Only one other girl had even heard of them, and she grew up to a different album that meant nothing to me.

So it was like a warm homecoming when my sister Maren gave me the CD for my birthday this year. We put it on immediately and both families - all six kids and four adults - started to dance and laugh and dance some more to the rockin' beats. Hazel pointed to the girl in the silver cap, much as I had at her age, and said, "She must be the queen!"

So I've been playing Boney M as my make-dinner music. The girls have latched on to it, and one song in particular: Rasputin. You know the story. Or maybe you don't. No reason you should. I'm pretty sure the only Russian history I've ever learned came from this song, which is not impressive. Here's the wiki link if you really want to know. ("Oh, those Russians...")

Anyway, the song is crazy fun. Put traditional Russian-sounding tunes to a disco beat, and the story of a kind of madman/charlatan/loverboy/politician into 70's slang, and you have really got something special. In the song, his name is pronounced, "Rass-pyoo-teen", so the girls call it "Rescue Team." The sex and intrigue references are over their heads, but Hazel picks up enough to know it is about a person, so he must be a superhero. And in one line he is referred to as a "cat" so Ginger thinks Rescue Team>Diego>Baby Jaguar>cat, so it all makes sense! They ask for it (on repeat, naturally) every evening and spend 15, 20, sometimes close to an hour marching/dancing around the coffee table to the music. Ginger's favorite part is the chorus:

Rah, Rah, Rasputin, lover up the Russian queen

There was a cat who really was gone

Rah, Rah, Rasputin, Russia's greatest love machine

It was a shame how he carried on

I watch them and think back 30 years to me and my sisters doing the EXACT same dancing to the EXACT same song. Some things are really worth passing on. Boney M has just made it one more generation. Rah, rah!

I Love a Good Snowball

The internet is good for things like a snowball effect.

About 13 years ago there were some camping trips in Utah.

Yesterday my friend James posted some "old school" photos on his Facebook page and tagged me in them.

I looked at them, they opened a floodgate of memories; I commented.

My comments reminded James of something; he looked through his old files and wrote a blog post, The Rules of Camping. (Had a hard time picking my favorite - a toss-up between 3, 12, and 16. I wonder what would have happened if Hottie Abe had attended.)

I read it, laughed so hard I almost peed my pants; Hazel asked me if I was crying.

I remembered a picture of said camping trip, dug deep into storage boxes to retrieve it; scanned and post it here:

(L to R - Staci, James, Lorna, Me, Matt)

I love a good snowball.

Mi Propio Spray King

Next week after the movers are done we're taking off to a family reunion way upstate in the Adirondacks, at a cute campy cottage "resort" place. It looks fun but a little rustic and you can imagine my disappointment when I learned there's no air conditioning. So I sent my mom on a (successful) mission to hunt down some battery operated misting spray bottle fans. Which reminded me of two funny stories.

Mi Propio Viento

Summer, 1996. I'm in an intensive Spanish program at BYU right before my mission, which included living in the Spanish house with a cursedly fast-talking Dominican, having classes all day, watching Spanish soap operas and ending with a 2-week trip to Mexico in enormous 14-seat vans. I thought it was hot in Utah that summer. Until we got to Mexico. It was hot in the vans. It was hot on the beach. It was hot in the hotels. It was hot in the restaurants. It was hot in the homes of Mexican church members with whom we stayed. My buddy roommate was Melanie Maddox (now Henrich) and she was hilarious, the stories we could tell! And our Spanish got pretty darn good that summer. Somehow one of us had a tiny battery-operated fan that came in a package labeled "Personal Fan", which we translated into "Propio Viento", having left our Spanish-English dictionary and Dominican roommate back home. We were so hot that whole trip we had that propio viento with us wherever we went, constantly desperate for a turn, and demanding of the other, "DA ME MI PROPIO VIENTO!" It became a standing joke, synonomous with "I'm hotter than hell!"

King Me

Summer, 1995. Cummings family reunion at Lake Winnipesaukee, NH. At the end of the week Dave and I take off in his at least 10-year-old no-guts Dodge Colt to drive to Utah for school. Power nothing, no air conditioning. It's hot. For four or maybe five days across the country in the summer heat, including creeping up hills and mountains in the far right lane with the hazards on as the Colt decelerates 40mph, 30, 25, 20, etc., barely making it over the ridge. Our only entertainment an unreliable tape deck and each other. And an enormous spray bottle Mom gave us that said SPRAY KING on the label. The passenger was in charge of spraying down the driver as needed, and then sometimes blowing on them for added cooling effect because the Colt was moving too slowly to create wind through the open windows.

As needed all the driver had to say was:
"KING ME."

Things I'll Miss About New York #1: Three Guys

The bittersweetness is really setting in. Luckily the blog is an excellent coping mechanism for things like this, so watch this space over the next few weeks for a couple of things I will really miss, and probably a few I won't, about living in New York City.

One thing I will miss FOR SURE is Three Guys from Brooklyn, the most amazing place to buy produce I've ever seen. When we first moved here, like the first week, we went to the Brooklyn library main branch and in the lobby they had an exhibit called something like "My Town" - there had been a photo and essay contest about Brooklyn and the winners in different categories were displayed. It was an awesome introduction to Brooklyn for me, learning about the city through current personal experiences of my neighbors. One essay really struck me - that of an 11-year-old boy writing about the weekly afterschool shopping trip he takes with his mom to Three Guys from Brooklyn. He told of asking the owner, who he had come to know well, the story behind the name of the store. Basically he and two of his buddies had decided to start a store selling top quality produce and rock bottom prices - "The Original Poor Man's Friend" is their subtitle. They worked so hard and took so much pride in their work that the other two died of overwork but he believes in what they do and loves his life. That is a poor recounting of the boy's essay. There was a picture of the owner and boy with mounds of fresh produce behind.

When I got home I looked it up, intending to go visit just for the essay's sake. But when I discovered it was close to where we lived, I made a habit of it. It's set up like a produce stand so there's not a lot of room, and you can't even think of going on Fridays when every Jew in Brooklyn is shopping for Shabbat, but if you hit it early on a week morning you can do OK and even find street parking.

Of course the beautiful thing about Three Guys is - it's SO CHEAP and it's SO GOOD! It's always fresh because they move their stuff so fast, and I don't know how their stuff is always more delicious and less expensive than the grocery stores, but I'm not complaining...until I move. For example, I went this week and spent $61.80. I got everything you see in the picture PLUS two gallons and one quart of milk, a dozen eggs, a bottle of salad dressing, and a 4-pack of the most amazing applesauce for $0.99 (they have a few grocery items.)

Produce: 4 ears of corn, 1 broccoli crown, 1 pineapple, 2 romaine lettuces, 3 lbs bananas, 1/2 watermelon, 1 cauliflower crown, 1.5 lbs mediterranean cukes, 0.8 lbs green beans, 3.5 lbs grapes, 2 lbs strawberries, 2 bags baby carrots, 1 yellow pepper, 1 bag clementines, 1.16 lbs asparagus, 1 lb black plums, 2.8 lbs gala apples, 2 grapefruits

How can we eat all that produce before it goes bad? Well it does take some effort (especially since Ed is only home for breakfast) but we've been working to change some of our eating habits - that's for another post. Bring on the fruits and vegetables! It also helps that so many things are coming into season now.

Three Guys is a Brooklyn establishment, a friend to the Poor Man, and a place I will very sadly miss when we leave.

Found an Old Photo Album...

...and decided to play with my scanner. Five million dollars goes to anyone who can name every person in every picture - enjoy. We'll start with an easy one.

1. Toronto, 1996

2. 1996, my mission farewell open house

3. circa 1990, looks like after a fireside or something

4. circa 1995 - bonus if you can tell me who gave me the Elvis picture or where we got the pie

5. circa 1992

6. California, 1997

7. 1996, seeing me off at the MTC

8. and the best for last...(circa 1995)

Yogurt Pies

Here's a total blast from the past. I used to make these all the time when I was a kid...and, ahem, a grad student, but I haven't thought of them in years. Then out of nowhere they popped into my head yesterday and I wanted them.

The beauty of yogurt pies is that they are simple to make and delicious to eat. They're also super easy and fun for kids to make, and while not exactly good for you, somewhat healthier than other things I can think of that satisfy the requirements of one's sweet tooth. They're cold and sweet and a lovely pink (or peach or green or whatever yogurt you choose) color. The recipe does not require any kind of perfection so anything goes.

Yogurt Pies

12 ready made individual graham crusts
1/2 to 1 carton of Cool Whip
About 20-30 oz. of any flavor yogurt

Stir the Cool Whip and yogurt with a wooden spoon to combine. Eat as much as you like. They can be in any proportion you want, adding more of whichever until you like how it looks and tastes. This is a very satisfying experience. Who doesn't love to stir yogurt and Cool Whip together? It's so fluffy and fruity and...Hazel put it nicely:
"Ooh, swirly!"

Use a large spoon to fill the pie shells. Do not fail to lick the bowl...and spoon. Place on a cookie sheet or tray, cover with plastic wrap and freeze until solid, several hours. Eat with your hands or a fork. Heck, top with more Cool Whip if you have any left. YUM!

Walking Down Memory Lane - Bit Parts

This morning I took a walk. By myself. The weather is warming slightly, Ginger is mostly sleeping all night, and Ed gave me an ipod - my first - for Valentine's Day. So I had the thought to start taking early morning walks like I used to many years ago. Plus we have this fabulous path across the street that runs along the water (Upper New York Bay). In one direction is the majestic Verrazano Bridge. In the other is the Statue of Liberty and Manhattan in the distance.

So this morning I took off, walking briskly and breathing deeply and feeling. I am still learning to use the ipod and put it on 600-song shuffle, just listening to whatever came up and enjoying every bit. When you have a situation like this - sea breeze (bay breeze), scenery, movement and awesome music pumping into you, it is natural to let the mind wander and enjoy the journey as thoughts come and go. Today I wandered all over my life and memories and found myself thinking of a few people I haven't thought of in a long time.

They played bit parts in my life, nothing very remarkable, but left lasting impressions. We have not kept in touch and will probably never meet again. But these high school companions were with me on my awesome walk this morning so I want to give them a little shout-out anyway. I know this may not be very interesting to readers but maybe it will remind you of some of the memorable one-scene-wonders from your own life; if so, please share.

1. Greg Youngman was my locker neighbor for six years - from 7th to 12th grade. We also sat together for standardized tests, hearing screenings, graduation and other alphabetized events. He was friendly, chill and good-natured in 7th grade and hardly changed (except his voice) the whole time I knew him. This says a lot because I know I changed a great deal over those years but Greg was always cool with me. We were always happy to see each other when school started - locker neighbors yet again, with G-Sue Yi unfailingly on my other side - and bid farewell when it ended. I have occasionally thought of Greg since high school, and though I haven't been able to track him down (though I think I just remembered today his real name is George...), I hope he is unbelievably successful and happy.

2. CJ Oakley was my music stand partner in Guitar Ensemble. Close your mouth - yes, honestly, at one point I played guitar well enough to perform in a group. I don't remember how we became partners - I think positions were just randomly assigned - but CJ and I sat together and shared a music stand for the entire 1991-92 school year. He was awesome. We would never have otherwise met, I'm sure. He had a feathered mullet, a bowlegged strut, and a hick accent, though I think he faked that for effect. He loved country and heavy metal. He was a piece of work and probably thought I was, too, but he was so nice and made sport out of whispering funny comments to me while we played, trying to mess me up. When we passed in the halls, he with his hair band friends, and me with my hippie ones, he always called out to me, with his own nickname for me, "POUNCE!"

3. Ted Arnn was the best friend of my first boyfriend. Ted drove a rockin' navy blue '65 mustang and wanted to be a policeman. He also thought absolutely nothing of the fact that I was his little sister's age - a freshman, while he was a senior. Ted was highly enthusiastic about music and was the first to introduce me to The Smiths, one of my all-time forever favorite bands. This has earned Ted a place in the Disco Mom Hall of Fame. He went to George Mason and did a weekend show on the school radio station; beyond that, we lost touch. I Googled him and found this article - turns out he is a captain with the Fairfax County Police Department, and again hosts a WGMU radio show. Good for you, Ted.

4. When I was a sophomore, my friend Brad Artman asked me to be his escort in the Mr. Robinson pageant. Brad did play a small but cherished role in my life but this isn't about Brad. A pageant escort is just supposed to walk out at the beginning of the show on the arm of the contestant, wait while he introduces himself at the mic, smile, take his arm, and walk off stage with him. It's a formality. Then you go sit in the audience. Being a formality, you are supposed to dress up very nice. Most girls wear skimpy formal dresses and high heels. I didn't have either (wouldn't have worn them anyway!), so I just did the best I could - a long sleeved blouse that I actually ironed, a long crushed velvet skirt, and actual eye makeup. Unfortunately Brad didn't win, but it was a fun contest anyway.
Afterwards I was waiting for Brad backstage when a classmate of mine, Nathan Baker, came over to say hello. He had been in the pageant, too. We chatted a little small talk and then I will always remember the compliment he paid me. He told me that he noticed I was the only escort that had dressed modestly, and he thought that was really cool. I was floored at that compliment coming from a 16-year-old non-Mormon guy. He said it let people focus on my face, and that's how it should be. That spontaneous conversation with Nathan was more affirmation on the virtue of modesty than any church lesson I'd ever had...before or since. Thanks, Nate.

Well there are more but that's enough for now. I promise not to expound so every time I take a walk. But it is nice to have time with my thoughts, and a place to record them.

Who has played an important bit part in your life?

SWOON

I just had a surprising experience, one I don't have as often as I used to, and I had to write about it. Have you ever heard a song that absolutely makes your soul swoon - you are suddenly elated in a way nothing else could do? I love music for this exact reason, and sadly my chances to enjoy it have drastically diminished with the arrival of the sweeties. But this afternoon I got the chance. Hazel was napping and Ginger was hanging out in the bouncy seat. I dug out the mixes Dave made for my wedding reception, still some of my favorite compilations, and put on "Kari's Love Songs"* while I cleaned the living room. Each one gave me some nostalgic and sentimental feelings, with memories and emotions attached to each song. They also gave me lots of ideas for future Sing Alongs (Motown, duets, etc.) Then Ginger started to fuss so I wrapped her up and rocked her to sleep when "Cowboy Take Me Away" by the Dixie Chicks came on.

Most of you know I have low twang tolerance but I do have a handful of country songs and singers I like. So as I rocked my girl, staring out the window at the next apartment building 10 feet away, and listened, especially to the lines:

I wanna look at the horizon
And not see a building standing tall
I wanna be the only one
For miles and miles
Except for maybe you
And your simple smile

that's it, my soul absolutely swooned and I became overwhelmed with a longing for Colorado. At that moment I was willing to walk out, leave everything (except Ed & the girls) behind and return to the most beautiful state in the union, and the home of the happiest years of my life. I couldn't believe how much I missed it. I can't believe that music can do that! It was wonderful and painful at the same time. Now it's on to another song and I've come down a bit but I felt like I would burst, so I just wanted to write about it.

What's the last song that made you feel that way?

*Other songs on the mix are:
Leather and Lace - Stevie Nicks and Don Henley
More - Bobby Daron
Kissing a Fool - George Michael
Treat Her Like a Lady - Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose
Kiss - Prince
Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want - the Smiths
Something in the Way She Moves - James Taylor
Your Song - Elton John
Could You Lie and Say You Love Me Just a Little - Alison Krauss
I Want You Back - Jackson 5
Far and Away - Enya
(something by Elliott Smith)
In Your Wildest Dreams - Moody Blues
Forever and Ever Amen - Randy Travis (tolerable twang)
The Fourteenth of February - Billy Bragg
I Will - Alison Krauss
Angel Mine - Cowboy Junkies
It's Alright, Don't Think Twice - Joan Baez with the Indigo Girls
Could I Have This Kiss Forever - Enrique Iglesias with Whitney Houston

Lovely Deseret*: a place of precious memories demolished

DT is coming down. That's Deseret Towers, for you non-BYU-alum, the dorm complex where I spent the very memorable '93-'94 academic year as a college freshman - room 621-T. Of course there are mixed feelings to this news. Yes, it's way outdated and no doubt the class of 2007, who by the way were only 4 years old when I started at BYU, probably deserve better. It's a new era, no pun intended. But it can be a little sad to consider a place of such rich memories torn down like common buildings. It was the setting for the most pivotal year of my life, the year that set the course for my adulthood, and did a damn fine job of it. And yet, it was just the setting. The pivotal-ness was caused by - who else? - the people. Wonderful, amazing people entered my life that year. Here are just a few memories of MY "lovely deseret":

- meeting Michelle, now Younce, one of my best friends and now sister-in-law

- a mysterious midnight walk with Nate S. - I still don't know what he was feeling but it meant a lot to me to be with him as he felt it

- ah, the signature dishes of the Morris Center - lemon pepper cod and the crepe bar!

- the dances, oh how I danced that year!!! thus the origin of my nickname Xanadu, now bestowed on Hazel as her middle name

- late night face masks, frozen snicker bars and E.L. Fudge cookies with Jen

- piling at least 10 people into my sister's tiny borrowed car to go off campus for my birthday

- attending the football games regularly - I even learned the fight song

- a sad string of unrequited pursuits...

- a ridiculous but fierce rivalry with someone who still doesn't deserve to be named on my site

- Saturday morning flag football games - I had to be careful with this one - be present and participating enough to appear fun and athletic to a certain someone, but stay clear of the ball enough to disprove that appearance

- setting up my own barber shop outside the guys' hall

- lacking dates of our own, stalking friends on their dates

- a brief but intense intellectual affair with Isaac - at the end of the year I finally met my match in sarcasm and wit!

- and underlying it all, a spiritual unity and intensity, based on shared testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. And a bittersweet knowledge that it would never be like that again - the guys went on missions and the girls moved off-campus and that was it, just left with our memories. Thank heaven for memories!

When my sister Maren went to BYU she lived in Budge Hall, part of Helaman Halls. I always loved that she lived in the same dorm my mom did when she was there in the 60's. I had not considered having the same kind of plans for my girls, but it does make me a little sad knowing it definitely will not happen.

I got an alumni email informing me that bricks from the demolished buildings could be picked up - for free, even! - at the Knight Mangum Building. Of course I didn't make a special trip to Provo to get one - what on earth would I do with it anyway? But it was a nice sentiment and it's funny to think of the people who did go out of their way. At least DT will always stand out in my memory, a bright turquoise beacon up that stupid hill. Does anyone even remember where the KMB is?

(* see LDS hymn #307)