Not That I'm bragging. But I climbed a crane.

New York Contruction men sitting on a crossbeam to eat lunch.

Taken in 1932 by Charles C. Ebbets

(I don't think these guys would be very impressed with my claim to fame. But I'm going to tell it anyways.)

So I’ve heard that the brain’s reasoning and decision making skills do not fully develop until the age of 21 or so.
I think I can support this theory.

I climbed a crane.

There’s a large crane that can be seen just right off of University Avenue and 200 North in Provo. No, I didn’t climb THIS crane. But seeing this one every time I walk in and out of work reminds me… ‘Hannah, your IQ has come a long way. ‘

But this crane does happen to look a lot like the crane that was on Utah State campus while building the new library in January 2004. And THAT is the one I climbed. I was nineteen. Two years short of being able to make the decision, “ I should not climb any cranes.” My parents forgot to instill that rule in me I guess. I'll blame them for such brainless behavior. Add it to the list of many Hannah misconceptions starting with:
Hooters is not a football team.

How do you get from being safe on the ground to the point of being hundreds of feet in the air with no ropes or nets to catch your fall? Let’s analyze my nineteen year old self…
What was important to me then?

1. Having my hair done (my roommates will attest to this)
2. Collecting all the music that I loved.
3. Trying to pull off smart in a scientific way (I was a dietetics major when my strengths were clearly elsewhere – art, philosophy, writing and such)
4. Attempting to be athletic and sporty (hence I took a snowboarding class and ended up dating my instructor. Haha! Thanks but no thanks. I know. Right. That’s like the equivalent of a guy saying he dated his French teacher.)
5. Dressing the best at 80’s dances.
6. Avoiding Walk and Talk at ward prayer… and

7. What I was going to do the next weekend.

So as you see, avoiding death was not on my list. It didn’t make the cut. And I think the fourth reason down about trying to be athletic may have been what triggered,

‘Climbing a crane is important to me.’

Or ‘The comments about my hair always being curled could finally be less creditable. Prissy girls don’t climb cranes in negative 10 temperatures. Prissy girls don’t climb cranes - period.’
Dont ask questions. This is all the explanation I can offer to you.

The intelligent warnings in me to not do it were but milliseconds long and easy to ignore. And even easier the more I ignored them. They were as small but as many as orange sparks flying from a campfire. You know what I’m talking about.

The construction site was fenced off with a sign 'PRIVATE PROPERTY. NO TRESPASSING.' and a trailer with one light on. It was 1:30 in the AM. There was six of us that decided to climb. Leaving one smart person on the ground – Jeni Smith Baxter. She was our lookout.

Since being quiet was such a factor for not getting caught we said that we’d have to go up one at a time and then send the next person after a few feet up so that we were staggered out on the ladder. (Trying to make smart decisions within a dumb one doesn’t reverse the fact that the first one is still dumb.)

I was the fifth to go up.

The ladder goes up about 15 feet and then you reach a platform. No walls. Just an iron criss crossed floor that allows you to see below. And then you walk on this to go to the next ladder which is now on the other side. As you climb, your back faces the direction of the inside of the tower (so that was nice). Haha .The platform could catch your fall as long you aim yourself at it and hopefully the overlaying sheets of ice would not send you sliding off the edge. After all it IS January - in Logan - in the middle of the night.

I had reached three platforms when I noticed the ice around the bars was getting thicker. I was half way to the next platform but I was getting a funny feeling in my fingers – hmmm. Something I hadn't thought about while on the ground. My gloves were just the thin knitted gloves you buy at Wal-Mart.

They didn’t feel like they were grabbing on as good anymore. So I wrapped my arms around the bars so that I could give my fingers a break from being on the ice and took off my gloves and stuck my fingers in my mouth to warm them up. It stung.
I didn’t know if my imagination was getting the better of me or not … but suddenly and without a real choice to do so, I was having vivid thoughts about my grandparents who had passed away in the past few years. I couldn’t stop thinking about them as my arms were wrapped around the icy iron.

‘Are they here, like angels in the movie heart and soul?'

I couldn’t be sure, but for some reason, I did know ….’Grandma and Grandpa are angry.’ …..and I was going to hear about it later. Maybe after I fell and died. I remember deciding that now was a good time to reflect and repent.

‘I’m sorry I don’t like FHE. I will try harder.’
‘I’m sorry I lied to that boy because I didn’t want to go on walk and talk to Aggie ice cream.’
‘I’m sorry I said my Russian professor was a commie.’
Oh and I’m sorry for calling Tanya Hanks - "Tanya Skanks" – just because it rhymes doesn’t make it true. – But maybe possibly.
'There. I'm good to go. ' I dried off my saliva drenched fingers and kept climbing.

I reached the point that the crane's beam intersected with the tower and by now I was about as pure as the day I was baptized. I was hoping to get beamed up to heaven because I did not want to go back down.

We took our time up there, had spitting lessons and then spitting contests. I lost.
We could see the top of the business building on campus. (The tallest building in Logan. Woewah. )

Business Building on Utah State Campus. The crane was to the left of this view.

Logan’s mountiains did look overwhelmingly majestic. The snow capped peaks were strongly contrasting the black sky. They were more noticeable now than they were when the sun was shining. I felt parallel with them and could look straight on without paying attention to the city below. If anything, my crane adventure had offered me new perspecitves. Mainly the perspective on how much we under estimate God. Or maybe this was me trying to get brownie points while praying that I not die on the way down.

k, so I climbed down. No broken bones. Proud and a part of me was sad that we didn't get caught and chased over the fence. You know, because you always say that AFTER the fact.

The next morning I did my hair with remewed pride in feminity. With every wrap around the curling iron I was foreseeing my anticiapted, “Not that I'm bragging, but I climbed a crane last night. What did you do?”

The Boy is Yours!

She thought I was a home wrecker. I tried to explain,

“No, ya see… I was bored. And when the idea came to my head I didn’t have time to stop the words from coming out. It’s been a problem my whole life and I’m sorry. I don’t even know who he is. I promise. He’s all yours.”

She wanted to believe me but she had this slight reserve in her face that said, ‘I’m still suspicious.’

You’re probably wondering , ‘What hussie thing did you do , Hannah?’

t was not bad AT ALL! It was more like a Wholesome Hussie thing to do. I’ll explain.

So we’re sitting in Relief Society ( I know. Relief Society. You're already disappointed) and I’m just slumped in my chair because it’s the same room for Sunday school right before this and I was just feeling a little mundane. And sometimes with feeling mundane… total apathy accompanies it and there’s no telling what you’ll do to get out of it. Boredom and apathy can be a scary combo – especially at church.

So the stage seating is getting packed with girls and we’re about ready to start Relief Society. First there’s announcements, a song, a prayer, a second set of announcements that missed the first go round, then good news minute and a welcoming of any new members or visitors.
My attention span was hanging on by a thread and I don’t think I had even had the ambition this time to move my head around to look at each person as they announced themselves as ‘new or visitor’. (Usually I’m not so anti –social, it was just an off –day I tell ya) But selectively, my ears caught this,

“Oh you’re just visiting today but not in our ward?”

“No I’ll just be here every now and then.”
Her friend speaks up and says, “She’s engaged!”

(audience gasps)

“Oh you’re engaged to someone in our ward? Who is he?”

“Stephen Oswell”

ME: “Dang it!” (Really really loudly, might I add)

And then we all laughed, like I was hoping they would.

Except for - the fiancé.

Actually, except for the majority of the small corner she was sitting in. The laughing people versus non laughing people was almost like setting their group apart as a gang or “the cool girls’ lunch table.” And I had gone from being invisible to quite a high profile. I was feeling very noticed.

I turned my head to smile back at them as if to say, ‘Jay Kay. Jay kay. You may laugh out loud.’ But she was not havin it.
She was still trying to decide if this was something to be on defense about.

I felt bad, but assumed that someone who was sitting within talking range of her would explain that it was meant to be funny.

‘Aw well. ‘ I thought. The class went on, we sang the closing song, we gave the prayer and I was out of there. I had already forgotten about my home wrecking comment and I was off to a meeting . The bishop was a little late coming in and then he asked during the meeting,

“Hannah , do you know Stephen Oswell?”

Respoding quickly, “Me?! No, I really don’t. I promise. I don’t even know who he is.”

That was all he asked. Thank goodness.

I was hesitant the rest of the meeting. I knew that I would have to talk to that girl and tell her that I didn’t even know that a Stephen Oswell was in our ward. Ugh. So much for trying to spice up my Sabbath. This girl was probably a whole five fingers younger than me and I’d have prove to her that some graduated girl living in Provo but not in school anymore was NOT trying to steal anyone’s guy. Does anyone have any ideas on how to prove that in dignified words? Me neither. You just have to take it in stride my friends.

Side note: At anytime you tell someone that you live in Provo, but don’t go to BYU, they will sentence you to a silently understood verdict, ‘she’s out to find a husband.’

Don’t even try to tell them, “I got a job here… I have family here…. uh I'm still here because the economy is bad??“ Nope. You are wasting your time. The judgment has been made and the smirk on their face is irreversible. And ya know, maybe that’s the graduated Provo dweller’s own fault. I just don’t know anymore. Because those two things define you now. The ceiling is LOW, and it is hard to break.

Back to the story.

I find her. I tell her. But as you first read, it didn’t go THAT well.
A few weeks later, I’m at an apartment and a guy walks in and we get introduced.

“Stephen this is Hannah.” I had forgotten.. but he hadn’t.

Exhausted sounding, he asked, “ Are you the one who talked to my fiancé about not even knowing who I am?”

Digging my finger tips into my eye sockets, “I am SO sorry.”

The automatic song for today: The Girl Is Mine - Michael Jackson

Correction! Kathleen (a more modern day pop culturist) has enlightened me greatly! I knew there was a song that was better for this but I thought it was by Mariah Carey and finally gave up on trying to find it and just used Michael Jacksons. But clearly,, this one is MUCH more fitting.

The Boy is Mine - Brandy and Monica

Gone to Texas for a little while...

Hannah's goin back to Texas for a little while and I think I'll go see Gladys...


Me and my sister, Melissa have just been crackin up at this tonight.

How was YOUR weekend?

Probably the best weekend ever.
It went like this.

A knock at the door…
Hey, there’s a …
Yea, we might come just after this movie.

Movie ends. Put in movie number two.

A knock at the door.
Silence.
Knock knock.

……………..
KNOCK KNOCK!
come in.

do yall wanna….?
Uh. ..we might. Maybe in a little bit.

11:30 pm.
Movie number three.
Knock Knock.
Are you still coming?
Maybe.

And as Penny would say. "You guys are so NAST."

(No Rich. Not becuase we're messy. Because we ate a whole chocolate cake in on night. by ourselves.)

Also, I just love that both our phones are sitting there... as if we were going to use them.

My new excuse for still being here in Provo.

Uh hum….ready?

The economy is bad.

automatic song for today: Mercy Mercy Me - by Marvin Gaye

You the Spittn' image of..

Everyone's always tellin me who I look like. Its a weekly occurrence. But I guess its true. Here's my research.

Dad

Me, as a happy two year old. Such an angel. I know.
My niece, Tabitha.

My niece, Sarah
Mischievous me

Sarah

And unfortunatley, quite frequently I get ... Celine Dion.

Yipee.

I'd rather it be Natalie Portman or something, but whatever.

My Little Girl Worry

So the economy’s got us in a frenzy. My friends and I were talkin ‘bout it over lunch the other day. But I just thought,
‘We’re adults. Blah. How did our worries and our conversations get so boring?’

You know adults always think,
‘What does a kid have to worry about. Not a care in the world. ‘

But that isn’t true. My concerns as a kid were real and much more interesting.
Sifting through my 1991 memories folder – ah. here it is. The number one worry of my little girl childhood.

And it’s legit.

I’d be watching an old movie that my media conscious parents set me down in front of, because whether or not it was Marilyn Monroe seducing Tony Curtis on screen or Fred and Ginger doing a tap dance – black and white meant, “Totally fine. This’ll give you culture.” And it did. Thanks.
But everytime I saw one of those on screen kisses..

Gidgit and Moon Doggie
Tammy and The Bachelor
Jimmy Stewart. Kathryn Hepburn.
Cary Grant and whatever woman he had at the time…

I just sent up a silent prayer saying,

“Oh please, Can I just get kissed like that before The Second Coming?”

I was always thinking,

‘I’ve got to hurry and grow up before the world ends and we all become saints! How boring!”

And at family prayer – forget that. I was sayin my own in secret. I’d always throw in a ,

“If you could let me grow up in time… that would be nice. But if not. I understand. “

Cleary I misunderstood a lot of things about the Second Coming as seven year old. I’m sure my Primary teachers did the best they could. But little did they know that while trying to teach me salvation, all I could worry about was getting to be the leading lady to a leading man – just once.
But whenever I thought about turning sixteen (the allowed age of dating) ...which was another NINE years away and more than double what my life span had been ... I just thought,

‘Oh dear, this’ll all be over by then and I’m never gonna get a chance to be old enough to get kissed like Betty Grable.’

And it didn’t help that I knew that the year I turned sixteen, would be that futuristic sounding TWO ZERO ZERO ZERO. There was something scary about that and Y2K had not even been made up yet.

I just knew that by the time we were writing a bunch of zeros…. That was gonna be it. We’d all be like the Jetsons and I would miss out on all the good classic romance. That - or we’d all be too angelic to do any romantic beach parties – Gidget. Sheesh. Sandra Dee played dumb as a door nail now that I think about it. But it seemed to work for her.

So smatchoo economy! We don’t care. We’ve got better stuff to worry about. Let’s give our adult lives a break. What little person worries did you have?

Comment and tell me. It just might make our day.

All the good On Screen Kissing happened before all these ZEROs. Watch.



The end of the song says, "You better get it while you can baby"...Cuz we're all about to get beamed up to heaven. Well... some of us.

Pencil Skirt Project Aborted

You know when you’ve got an idea or a plan and as the peak of genius is almost there – you get learned.

My thoughts:

‘Finally its Sunday. I should look forward to this for more humble reasons, but sometimes that bores me. So I’ll just admit to myself, I’m excited because I get to wear my new pencil skirt. It’s definitely a subtle way of looking too good for church.'

The tactic, or my “project” was to look like an intelligent girl that can’t help but look this sassy. So sue me Relief Society Prez. The gurl can’t help it.
So good in fact, that no one will say it because it will be embarrassingly obvious.
So I walk up the stairs to Sunday school in my black suede heels...

“New dress? It's nice.“

“What. “ – ‘ugh, thanks’

“I just said you look nice.”

“Yea, I heard. “ ‘gee whiz kid, don’t ‘you read my blog?’ Wait. NOT EVERYONE reads your blog, Hannah. You have got to stop thinking that. Well if he did, he’d know that….’

And then she walked by.

He said nothing to her. In turn giving her the better compliment because he was too stunned to speak.

A grey pencil skirt from Express. Just like mine. But not.

She had it fitted so that there were stretch ripples where the hip joint met her torso. And the same slit that I had in my skirt was actually serving her a purpose as she walked.

I learned that this slit is helpful because the skirt is suppose to be tight, and when walking it gives you room to stride while you strut. Slit stride strut - genius engineering.

Just like a little girl with my toes turned in, I looked down and for the first time realized that my skirt looked like a rectangle. No ripples at the hip joint. As straight as a line could be. And one worthless slit in the back.
‘Ugh. Pencil Skirt Project Aborted. ‘
I had been blown out of the water. A woman’s silent war. If it had been a cartoon I would have pulled out a white flag from my purse and waved it above my head. But I didn't have to because it said it all when my Relief Society President said, "Oh that's cute." Oh how I failed.

I came home and bitterly threw that thing in dryer.

Then just to test it before my blind arrogance got away with me a second time, I held the slit together with one hand while turning my neck to watch myself walk away from the full length mirror. Unfortunately, I had zero trouble putting one foot in front of the other. ‘I need restricted stride,' I thought.

So I cut out a picture of a Victoria Secret Model wearing a similar outfit, stuck that sorry skirt in a bag and drove to the Eurpopean Taylor’s on Unitversity Avenue.

I walked in to see some white purple transparent hairdo poking up over a counter.

I was afraid of this. But I proceeded anyways.

I held up my bag over the counter in one hand with the Victoria Secret clipping in the other and said, “ I need THIS, to look like THIS. On ME. Can you do that?”
She stood up, looked me over head to toe with squinty eyes. And when I noticed she was almost my same height, I realized what a Tall order I was asking.
“Just try.”, I said.