Antique Stores

Jonathan likes antique stores. Here's a picture of why:

I really don't. Here's a picture of why:

Seriously, I don't know why there are malformed naked sewn-together two-tone skin dolls dancing in demonic poses, but this is something directly out of my nightmares.

To be fair, I actually don't mind antique stores most of the time, as long as they have real antiques. We went to another antique store that had bins of partially-used, expired cosmetics and nail polish. Honestly, that's just trash, and it grosses me out.

Rachel Vs The Mini

When I leave work in the evening, I come to a light and turn left, then come to a red light, then come to another red light. Although this is clearly poor planning (or maybe evidence of some vast conspiracy against me), I have come to accept that the first two lights are always going to be red, and I plan accordingly. In this case, "plan accordingly" means that I don't accelerate to the full speed limit (40 mph) after I turn left, because why bother?

However, there is a white Mini that I see pretty frequently when I'm driving home. The driver of this car does not seem to share my philosophy. So here's how it goes:

1) I turn left and then my light turns yellow, then red. The other light turns green.
2a) I accelerate to about 30 or 35 mph.
2b) The Mini proceeds straight through the light that just turned green and accelerates rapidly until they are a short distance behind me.
3) The Mini passes me on the right at 50 or 55 mph, then pulls back in front of me.
4) The Mini slams on the brakes, as it is rapidly approaching a line of cars waiting at the first red light.
5) I stop behind the Mini.
6) Once the light turns green, the Mini is stuck behind a line of cars and can't accelerate as much as they would like. Sometimes they try to pass the cars in front of it, either on the right or the left.
7) The Mini moves into the left turn lane at the next red light. I pull up right next to them and we both wait for the light to turn green.

I guess I should probably be more charitable, but the best I can manage is a kind of irritated amusement. Still, better than road rage, right?

The Great Sea Salt Showdown

So you may have heard that sea salt is the best thing ever. So we decided to test whether 1) there is a discernible difference in taste between sea salt and regular table salt and 2) if so, whether sea salt is better.

We wanted to see if a difference existed, and if so, if it would be noticeable in typical use. So there were three types of salt tested in a blinded experiment: plain salt, saltwater, and salt on eggs. For the plain salt, the subject (Jonathan and I both tried it) closed their eyes and was given a plate of salt by the experimenter to sample. The difference in this trial was huge. Jonathan said the sea salt "tasted like the ocean." I wouldn't describe it that way, but the regular salt tasted cleaner and sharper.

Next we took 1/4 teaspoon of each type of salt and added it to 1/2 cup of water. This part of the experiment was double-blind, as I forgot which type of salt was in which cup. There was a difference again, although one was probably not better than the other, and it was much more subtle than the previous stage.

Finally, we decided that nobody actually eats just plain salt, or drinks saltwater, so we wanted to test it with actual food. Neither of us is very fond of salt on food, but we will eat it on boiled eggs. So we boiled two eggs, planning to cut them in half, sample each half with an unknown (to the eater) type of salt, and rate it. I was going to go first. I instructed Jonathan to put 1/4 teaspoon of salt on each half as that was our smallest measuring spoon.

It turns out 1/4 teaspoon of salt makes an egg entirely inedible. Inexplicably, it was worse and saltier than the plain salt we had tried earlier. So we threw that trial out and decided to eyeball the salt on our second egg, which ended up cut into quarters.

Result: I thought the regular-salted egg tasted saltier than the sea-salted egg.  Jonathan thought it was the other way around. I think it's because we weren't actually measuring how much salt we used. Either way, when combined with other food, we didn't think the difference in taste was significant.

And now you know.

In which we all go to the UK

I just got back from two weeks in the UK. It was magical! We did a LOT. Seriously, we rented a car, and we put over 3000 miles on it (thank goodness for unlimited mileage!). This is quite a lot, considering that the longest distance between two points is 600 miles.

The two defining characteristics of our stay were tiny roads and enormous monuments. The roads were only wide enough for one car in lots of places, or two cars practically touching, but that didn't stop them from being two way roads. The theory (and practice) is that when you meet somebody going the opposite way on the 25% grade, one-car-wide road, one of you (probably the one who was going up) reverses back until you come to the passing place, a tiny pullover area that allows the car who was going down to pass you. Now, you might think that this means people drive at a slow and cautious pace. You would be wrong. The speed limit on these tiny lanes is 60 miles per hour. While we went about 30-40 on most, native drivers zoomed past us at probably the speed limit. Now we know where the Brits acquire their nerves of steel. After driving on those roads, anything seems like a piece of cake.

Here are the highlights (and occasional lowlights) of the trip, as recorded in my journal:

Day 1 (Stonehenge and Bath)
British yogurt. When I had it last time, I loved it. It is completely different from American yogurt. When Greek yogurt started to become a thing, I convinced myself that it was the way they have yogurt in Britain, and tried to force myself to love it. After having the real deal again, I can confidently say it is also completely different from Greek yogurt. Good. Now I don't have to feel guilty about not really liking Greek yogurt.
Having tea at the Jane Austen center. So charming! (I guess I really liked food that day.)
Lowlights: I think we've almost died driving about four times.

Days 2/3 (Cornwall)
Cornish pasties and ice cream. (I guess I really liked food every day.)
Tintagel - the most vivid colors and beautiful scenery of anywhere.
The gardens at St. Mawes - they are full of globes of flowers that I love!
Lowlights: Driving through St. Ives.

Days 4/5/6 (Cardiff and South Wales attractions)
St. Fagan's (a great house with enormous spreading gardens) is one of the most beautiful places I've been. I could easily have spent a whole day there.
Pwll Mawr (the old working coal mine) is so fascinating! Our guide was occasionally unintelligible, and seemed so at home deep underground. He was also really short. Maybe this is where the idea of dwarves came from?
Lowlights: We popped off one of the side mirrors as we passed through a tiny bridge. Fortunately we managed to reattach it. (There is a trend to the lowlights.)

Day 7 (Stratford and Sherwood Forest)
The gardens at Stratford. Now I want a formal garden (and a gardener to tend it).
Being where Robin Hood was. So cool!

Day 8 (Castles in South Wales)
Tintern Abbey. I can't decide if it's a memorial to the futility of human effort, or to how much we can accomplish if we put our minds to it.
Castell Coch was designed by a fabulously wealthy man with the goal of creating an authentic medieval exterior and an opulent interior. The juxtaposition of arrow slits and gilt paint was interesting.

Days 9/10 (North Wales)
We went to a slate-splitting demonstration at the National Slate Museum. After an amazing show of skill and knowledge, he asked if there were any questions. "Have you ever worked with slate before?" "No, this is my first day on the job."
Dolbadarn castle - tiny (for a castle), ruined, and amazingly beautiful.
Lowlights: Adele (our lying GPS) told us the drive would be four hours. Try five and a half. (This goes back to the 60 mph speed limit on the world's most dangerous roads.)

Day 11 (Uffington White Horse and Oxford)
Eating at the Eagle and Child. I feel bad for all the other Inklings (besides Tolkien and Lewis) who are only remembered by association.
Rowing on the Thames. Jon was trying to row past another boat, and the oar popped out of the oarlock. He tumbled over backwards.

Days 12/13 (London)
St. Paul's cathedral is the most beautiful cathedral I've ever seen, and my favorite.
There are statues of Wenlock (Britain's Olympic mascot) all over. At first I thought they were really creepy, but they've really grown on me.
Walking to the Churchill War Rooms we passed through a park full of amazing birds. There were pelicans, swans (including gray swans), shorebirds, herons, ducks, geese.... it was amazing! (Until we passed a flock of hundreds of pigeons. Gross.)
Lowlights: Returning the car. About 400 pounds for a scratch on the paint. Ouch.

Unfortunately, I have surprisingly few great stories to tell. So instead I'm going to include two pictures that make it look like I have mad skills in photoshop.

Toddlers and Tiaras, AKA the Worst Show Ever

So, I watched Toddlers and Tiaras tonight (don't judge). I'm appalled. Honestly, it made me kind of sick to my stomach.


There was a four-year-old in a sexy nurse outfit. I kind of want to share the horror. I was going to include a picture of an adult wearing a similar outfit, but then I'd feel dirty for putting that in a post that also includes the word toddler, and I'm not going to search "toddler sexy nurse." Ever. There was another in a sexy cop outfit. Ditto. Gross.


This pageant has an under two division. Even the six-month-olds were wearing more makeup than I did to get married. Seriously, there are parents out there who look at their baby who can't yet walk or talk and think, "Oh, I know what she needs. Let's highlight her cheekbones and bring out her eyes" And then they don't think, "Oh, wait. Let's not, because she's a baby and that would be unnecessary and kinda creepy." Also they were wearing wigs (I assume; most babies don't really have hair, and these babies have heads piled with curls).

No makeup or wig required.

The most disgusting part, though, was listening to the judges. "Oh, her hair isn't perfectly set. Did you see how it was kind of moving?" Oh, the horrors of movable hair! "What we're really looking for in makeup is for the contestants to look like a Barbie." Mission accomplished. Blech. 

Anyone else super weirded out by this?

Oh, and by the way, the prize all this disgusting-ness was designed to win? $500. OK, one mother said she spent $1600 on a new dress for this pageant. That's a loss of $1100 even if her dolled up child wins, not even counting the professional hair, makeup, and nails.

How Everyone (except me) Went to Disneyland

Once upon a time (last month), I had a different job and a vacation scheduled and approved for this coming week. The plan was to join my family in a week-long California adventure, including Sea World, the San Diego Zoo, kayaking, exploring Old Town San Diego, and Disneyland. Then I got a new job.

When I was hired, I told my recruiter that I had two vacations scheduled, one of which was set in stone (a trip to Wales later, which we had already paid for), and the other of which was not (California). However, I did mention that I would appreciate if I could have them both off, paid or unpaid. When I got my training schedule and saw that I was set to be in Chicago for the entire week my family would be gone, I assumed that my recruiter had been able to get me off the two weeks for Wales, but had been unsuccessful in getting me California off, and that was fine. I can certainly understand how that would be the case, and I didn't want to seem like a complainer, so I resolved to say nothing.

BUT, I was talking to my boss yesterday. She mentioned it must be hard for me to be in Chicago by myself for so long (I'm here for four weeks). I said to be honest, the hardest part was missing the vacation my family was taking. Long story short, my recruiter had not mentioned it. My boss was shocked. "Why didn't you say something earlier? We would have rearranged your training schedule!" Then she suggested I look up flights from Chicago to San Diego. "We could give you Monday and Tuesday off next week!" Unfortunately, flights are about $600, and leave at inconvenient times, so it's not worth it.

And that's how I ended up sitting in a hotel room while everyone else goes to Disneyland. Morals of the story: my boss is pretty cool, and next time I'm going to speak up.

Geeking out

So on the news the other day, they were talking about sunscreen. I liked the program right away because they were asking random passers-by how they think sunscreen works. I knew the answer before they explained it, which strokes my science-y ego (in case you are interested, the active ingredient in sunscreen can absorb the energy of UV rays and store it by exciting its electrons, then slowly release the energy in a more harmless form over time).

Next, they started talking about how SPF is misleading - SPF 15 sunscreen blocks 93% of UV-B rays, while SPF 30 blocks 97% and SPF 50 blocks 98%. In other words, there is a serious diminishing return going on. So, being the nerd I am, I decided to determine the formula. After some messing around, I determined that the amount of rays that are blocked is equal to 1-1/x, where x is the SPF. It turns out this is supported by actual truth (hurray, I love it when I'm right!)

Some of the interesting implications of this:

1) Really, SPF 100 is hardly better than SPF 30. So I guess don't waste money if SPF 30 is cheaper.
2) If you are wondering whether it's even worth it to put on SPF 6, the answer is probably yes, as it will block 83% of the sun's rays - that's a pretty good deal for something that sounds negligible. Even SPF 2 will block half of rays. Not too shabby for something that sounds like a joke.
3) Math and science are cool.

Source:  http://www.personal-care.basf.com/docs/personal-care-pdf/description-of-methods.pdf 
Original news story:  http://www.npr.org/2012/07/06/156380368/whats-your-iq-on-spf 

Chicago, Part One

So I got a new job, which is nice. My previous job required 55+ hours of work each week. The actual work I'm doing now is pretty much the same, except my boss is way cooler and I work 40 hours a week and get a lunch break every day, and it turns out things like that actually make a huge difference.

Anyway, I have six weeks of training in Chicago for the new job. I started out with two weeks there, am back in Salt Lake for two weeks, and will be headed back to Chicago for basically all of July.

Now, you would think that I did awesome things in Chicago, especially as I had a couple of weekends there. Unfortunately, you would be wrong. I watched two complete seasons Dr. Who, which I don't regret at all. I also watched a bunch of reality TV, which I do regret. So that I could not sound like a total loser when my coworkers asked what I did over the weekend, I walked to the Willis Tower (formerly Sears Tower). I didn't actually go in, or to the top, but I could say "Oh, I went to the Willis Tower and looked around." (I did look around the exterior. That counts, right?)

So. Disappointing. Maybe I'll do something blog-worthy during my next visit.

Sleep Talk

Jonathan: They always do that in comedies.
Me: What?
Jonathan: Ugh! You're in a tent!
Me: I'm not in a tent.
Jonathan: No, it's like a comedy! And you're in a tent, and it's like the Avengers!
Me: I don't know what you're talking about.
Jonathan: That's because you're a ridiculous fool!

Now that Jonathan is fully awake, he claims that this actually made more sense in his dream. Apparently this was supposed to refer to how in movies (especially sci fi/fantasy), it can be a happy ending even if hundreds of innocents died before the evil was defeated.

Object Lesson Fail

So as I've mentioned (or should have), Jon and I teach the 5-7 year-olds in our church. This week the lesson was on the gift of the Holy Ghost. We had an object lesson that did not go exactly as planned.

I brought in an old gift that is now broken. We talked about how it used to be really cool, but has become considerably less so since it broke. Jon asked the kids if they could think of any gift that would last forever, that would never, ever become worn out, or broken, or boring. Obviously the answer was supposed to be the Holy Ghost. The answer the children came up with? Pillow Pets. They would be really hard to rip. No, they don't have any pets that could destroy them. They could always be washed if they got dirty. Even grown-ups need something to hug sometimes (this is a fair point, as I myself have one).

Asked if they could think of anything else (sometimes you have to choose your battles), they proceeded to list other toys and potential gifts, including mattresses (seriously, a five-year-old thinks a mattress is a good gift?). Sigh.

Security

When I first got married, I changed my name legally and (eventually) on my driver's license. I did not ever get around to changing it with my credit card companies. While I did change my name with my bank, I haven't gotten new checks or a new debit card. In other words, I have two recently acquired credit cards with my legal name on them, and several credit/debit cards without.

The frightening part is, nobody has EVER called me on it. I didn't update my name on my driver's license until about a year after I got married. In the intervening year, I used my driver's license as identification for all kinds of official things. The fact that my ID didn't match my social security card was never brought up. Since I changed my driver's license, no merchant has ever asked why the name on my credit card is not the same as the name on my ID.

So, I guess the moral of the story is that women can steal the identity of any other woman with her same first name. It will be assumed (I guess) that she just hasn't changed her last name with all her credit card companies.

Ouch

So a five-year-old (one of the children Jon and I teach) came up to me in church today. "Do you have any kids?"

"No, not yet."

"Oh, well, when is the baby coming out of there [while poking my stomach]?"

Apparently either five-year-olds have no concept of the anatomy of pregnancy, or I need to start thinking about losing some weight.

New House

By far, the very best part of our new house is the garage. I can't even express how satisfying it is to drive along at 6:15 in the morning and see all the frost-encrusted cars, secure in the knowledge that I am no longer a participant in the car-scraping game.

The worst part is moving. I hate unpacking. This morning I found twenty thank-you notes from our wedding that we never unpacked (or sent) after we moved into our last place. This has done absolutely nothing to endear unpacking to me. If you were one of those twenty people, I'm really, really sorry. And thanks for the gift.

Childhood Trauma

I asked my sister Kristina what I should blog about. She suggested either how great she is, or childhood trauma. I have decided to combine both of those and describe how Kristina made my childhood traumatic.

When I was around seven or eight and Kristina was two or three, I loved lying on the floor coloring, reading, writing, or whatever else I did at that age. Kristina loved running around and jumping on things. This combined with unfortunate results for me, as I was her favorite thing to jump on.

So I would just be hunched over on the floor, innocently doing my thing, and Kristina would run around the corner, take a flying leap, and land on my back, knocking the wind out of me. I would scream at her to stop, and my mom would tell me to be nice to her.

To make matters worse, every time I told my friends or cousins about how Kristina routinely abused me, they would say, "But she's just a baby! She doesn't know any better!"

For the record, three-year-olds are not babies. Also I believe I have found a culprit for any back problems I may develop along the line.