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Speed Dating

What a phenomenon.

Thanks, Radio From Hell, for giving me the most thrilling night of my life (read sarcastically, if you need to read it again, please do so).

Every so often, RFH throws singles mixers. This one was at the Downtown Iggy's. Sounds like fun. I'm a single, disease free, personality filled, independent, good looking, Libra. Why not?

I get there at about 7:00 and I looked great. I was wearing a clever tee-shirt. Can’t go wrong. I run into Bill from the Radio From Hell show. He gave me a hug and he directed me to the registration table where I put my name badge on. I give Richie T a hug and he tells me to go and find a table that doesn't have a lot of people and go be social. I find a table with a couple guys at it. J-Name Guy is 29, he's a meat cutter for Harmon's, races cars at Rocky Mountain Raceway, likes to be out doors, his favorite sport is NASCAR, had brown hair, and a goatee. (Insert name here) is 44, he works at a pump manufacturing plant fixing tools, is first generation American with a Greek family, has thinning hair, glasses, and a big nose. After 45 minutes of painful, forced, and contrived conversation Eric shows up. Eric is 21, works at Lowe's as a help people get stuff to their cars guy, is a gamer, has glasses, and graduated from Box Elder High School in 2005 (How do I know this? He wore his class ring.).

Speed dating started at 8:00.

The gentlemen get up from the table and the Portia of Live and Local fame sits down at my table because we needed two ladies at each table. Portia is pretty cool. Then the men start rolling in. They are all guys that have jobs, are decently good looking, they even kinda smell good but then I think back to some advice my sister gave me, "He has a Jeep and muscles, but can he talk to you?" J-Name Guy and (insert name here) avoided the politics question like the plague so I knew I couldn't talk politics with the nameless rabble of dudes.

The only dude I could talk politics with was Luis. He is graduating from the University of Utah with his Bachelors in Social Work in the spring. Then he's going to jump right into graduate work. He's working full time and going to school full time. As soon as he started in on how much he loves social work it was time to switch partners. As he was getting up to leave I told him I wanted to keep talking to him about social work but he never came back.

This whole time the waiter, Dave, was bringing us Dr. Pepper (because it was a Pepsi establishment...I think we all know how I feel about Pepsi), water, and all manner of adult beverages. I felt like he was kinda keeping an eye on me. Once the evening was over Dave came over and sat next to me and asked me how it went. "Well, Dave, it's hard to get to know someone in five minutes. Stuff like this takes years. Dating in Utah is like (insert forced metaphor here)." He kept nodding his head. As I was ordering some dinner, Eric the Gamer showed back up to my table.

More forced conversation with Eric the Gamer and I mean forced. Here I am trying to eat my turkey sandwich and fries and he's talking about how he nearly lost his eye when he was four and that's why the armed forces (because I was in the Army, common thread is probably what he was thinking) wouldn't take him but he wanted to join…can you imagine what my face is doing? Dave the Waiter came and sat next to me after his smoke break and asked for me to come back. I told him I'd only come back if I could sit in his section. He told me he could make that happen.

Eric the Gamer paid for my dinner and I didn't have the heart to not give him my phone number. So now, in my phone, I have the number of Eric the Gamer (he texted me the next day and called me two days after the evening of his company). As I was boxing up my dinner he asked if he could walk me to my car. No thanks, I think can make it. I get up from the table, stick my hand out for a handshake and he's half way to a hug. I concede and give him a one armed embrace. As we're walking to the door of Iggy's we just so happen to walk by Portia's table. I tell her to have a good evening and I also roll my eyes. While Eric the Gamer is walking toward the door she looks at me and with a look of disgust on her face mouths the words "Are you leaving with him?" I mouth back while shaking my head and rolling my eyes yet again, "No."

fjkd; souiwae zxcm,.vn (head hit keyboard)

Medical school, I'll find him in medical school.

What Scripture am I Pondering Today?

I’m right in the middle of the Isaiah chapters of the Book of Mormon and I think to myself, “Self, you’ve just gotta get through the Isaiah chapters.” My brain isn’t ready for the Isaiah chapters (Insert comment about how Isaiah is so beautiful. Spare me.). I have found a couple gems in the last few days such as

2 Nephi 10:17

and

2 Nephi 13:10

I started this last week. While on the train I look at my Book of Mormon and say, “Book of Mormon, teach me something today.” Inevitably, it’s something I need to hear or (if it’s not something I need to hear) a question gets answered or I talk to someone that needs to hear the scripture of the day…funny.

I write the scripture of the day on a Post-it Note and pin it to the wall of my desk. This is another thing I enjoy about working for the Church. People here don’t think that’s weird where any other job would look at you sideways and be like, “Dude, scriptures?”

Today I am pondering 2 Nephi 19:6 – For unto us a child is born, unto us as son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder; and his name shall be called, Wonderful, Counselor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.

This scripture is used in the Messiah by Frederic Handel. Can we say inspired music? Yes, say it with me, inspired music. The music is all favorite but if I had a top five favorite pieces in the Messiah, For Unto Us would be in it.

I wanted to discuss how truly awesome this scripture is.

A child is born: My mom has a picture of Mary holding the six month old Christ. I like looking at it because it reminds me that we all started that way, a child. Of course, Christ had an advantage being the “only begotten in the flesh” and all but He still started as a child.

A son is given: Given as a sacrifice for all. Not just for the people on Earth…all. Heavenly Father gave His son to us. Do we need to go into the Atonement or is that something that can be saved for another post? Another post, by gum.

And the government shall be upon his shoulder: The perfect, self-sustaining government free from politicians. He is the perfect judge having personally experienced every sickness, every bruise, every ouchie, every tear, every death, every abuse, and every mentality.

And his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace: I like how these are all used as other names for Christ. The perfect listener, the perfect brother, the perfect dad, the perfect person we can go to for true stillness.

I think I might have found a new blog.

I like my job!

8 minutes 48 seconds

This is the exact time on the track Shine on You Crazy Diamond (Parts I - V) on the album Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd when singing begins.

Bar League Softball

Since May-ish I’ve been playing on a softball team called Terra Diamond. How I ended up on the team was kind of a fluke. Someone broke their leg which opened up an extra spot on the team. Once I found out Jessica, a friend of mine, was on a team I wanted in. Every Thursday she would come into the office and complain about how there are people on her team that don’t try. Every time I would tell her that I’ll be on the team and that I’ll try.

I suck at softball but at least I try. I’m not a complete spaz. I can throw the ball. I can run fast. I’m not too stellar at catching fly balls or batting. I’ve learned a lot about playing the game from my dad. He loves baseball (Cubs fan, true blue, through and through) and he played softball for a long time. He comes to all my games and gives me advice.

The regular season ended last night. We ended our season with one win. Yes, one win. The fun part was my athletic ability finally caught up with me. My dad was in the crowd (and when I say crowd I mean there were about eight people there). I was up to bat for the first time that game. The pitch comes in. Ball. (Good eye, Brian). The next pitch comes in and I hit the ball.

Now, I’ve hit the ball a few times this season but 100% of the time I hit the ball, it was caught. Now, in softball and baseball, that’s an out. So, I hit the ball and I started running to first base and I mean booking to first base. I look up to see where the ball was going and I see the fielder right underneath the ball. Another out. Much to my surprise, she dropped the ball.

I, Allison Sabo, made a base hit.

My dad was so proud.

Just call me Base Hit Sabo.

I was grinning about it for an hour.

Me, I made a base hit.

I wasn’t even on base when I saw that she dropped the ball. I was jumping up and down that I had succeeded in the base hit. I slapped hands with my team when I went back to get my mitt because Cy struck out.

It was awesome and I was so proud of myself. The season’s hard work finally paid off for me with a base hit.

Now is when I get into why I call bar league. My team has a couple brewskies while they are playing. Maybe it’s the golf or bowling theory. It loosens them up. Or maybe they’re just used to it. I wouldn’t be able to do it. It’s cool for them it’s just not for me. I still love the fact that I get to play softball and I got a base hit.

We play on Wednesdays. Our next game is on the 23rd at 6:30 P.M. at 3700 South Main Street in South Salt Lake. We wear the green shirts. I’m number 29 and my softball name is Donna.

Go team!

The Birds Are Out in Full Force at the Church Office Building

I’ve grown accustomed to wearing nylons all day. That is, without fail, the first question everyone asked when they found out I was working at the COB. Even my mother asked me that. I thought it was going to be a difficult adjustment but, yeah, not so much. I also enjoy wearing skirts. I’ve always enjoyed wearing skirts. We went to sacrament meeting while we were in Smalltownville, Southern Utah. I wore a black, just below the knee pencil skirt that zipped and buttoned in the back (my favorite skirt). When we got back to the house I found it odd to take off my skirt so soon. I’ve adapted to the skirt.

I find it interesting that the church has corporations. Like the Corporation of the Presiding Bishopric and the Corporation of the President. I guess when you’re working with millions of dollars you need to be under the corporation umbrella. In other words, the church isn’t a small business.

The church also invests money. That I didn’t know. I work on the 15th floor of the COB in the Department of the Treasury. Across the way from my area is the Investment Securities Department. I asked the Investment Securities Department secretary what they do. She said they take the Lord’s funds and invest it in stocks and bonds. Real estate investment is in a different building. I asked what the church invests in and I got a list of what the church doesn’t invest in (dang, I want to know what to invest in). The church doesn’t invest in caffeinated products (people think the church owns Coca-Cola), tobacco, alcohol, guns, gambling, and adult entertainment. Not a big surprise. There were other questions asked but I can’t talk about those…super secret stuff.

Now, working at Global was a learning experience for me. I grew a lot and I learned a lot. I’ve found some differences with working for the church and working at Global.

I haven’t been in my own car since Friday morning. Thank you discount Adult Transit Pass.

When I came in for my interview at the COB I saw numerous people walking in with their large ounce mugs full of some type of drink (I’m just going out on a limb and say Caffeine Free Diet Coke). At Global, almost everyone walks in with coffee.

We all get to wear church clothes every day. At Global, not so much. In fact, when I wore a skirt to work everyone asked me if I had an interview. “Not today,” Allison would put in her thought cloud.

The profanity had definitely been curbed. I still hear some profanity but not as much as when I was at Global.

I don’t feel judged when I decide I want to read conference talks, the recent Ensign, or my Book of Mormon while I’m at lunch.

Twice a week I see facilities maintenance workers in waders cleaning the reflecting pool on the Main Street Plaza. I’m not sure how often the grass was cut while working at Global. In fact, I don’t care how often the grass is cut at Global.

Now, this is my favorite difference between Global and the COB. At Global I worked with aggressive high maintenance people. At the COB I work with passive high maintenance people. Let me explain.

If I was doing something wrong at Global, I heard about it. In all actuality, I like to hear when I’m making mistakes or bothering someone then I know how to make things run more smoothly. This is what I like to call the aggressive high maintenance people.

At the COB there are passive high maintenance people. Let me explain. In fact, here’s a case and point. I was going through returned checks for Cheryl the Reconciler. I needed to look up the unit number and write it on the back of the check. I asked Cheryl the Reconciler if I could ditch the letter that the checks come with. I needed to keep them attached. Simple enough. Staple the returned checks to the letter. I get through my whole stack, staples and all, and I take them to Susan, who apparently is frazzled enough. I put them on her desk and told her that they were from Cheryl the Reconciler.

Susan’s eyes become as big as saucers. She says, “That’s not how I like them.” A statement. That’s all she said.

My head tilts to one side. “How do you like them?” I replied.

“Well I would rather have them (insert a very complicated way for me to have these returned checks). I can fix them, don’t worry, I can do it.” I really think she would have liked to say, “You screwed up my system and now I have to do lots of extra work.”

“Okay. If this is the standard that you like then that is how you’ll get them every time.”

“Well, you don’t have to do it that way. How you’ve done it this way is fine. So, this is fine, this is fine, but this is how I like them done, but you can keep doing them how you’ve done them.”

“What do you like?” I ask getting slightly annoyed because she’s not making a decision.

“This way.”

“Then that’s how I’ll do them.”

I took the stack back to my desk to fix them. On my way I hit my head with the returned checks a couple times. This then spurred a whole conversation with Cheryl the Reconciler about the difference between passive high maintenance people and aggressive high maintenance people.

I think this is a great example about how we have been raised in the church. Don’t offend people. If it requires you to do extra work then so be it. Be of small voice.

Conversely, am I doing what I've been socialized to do? Just throwing that out there.

This really bothers me on so many levels. If I screw something up, tell me. I think I am adaptable and cooperative enough to learn the system and change what I need to do to not be a feather ruffler. It takes a lot, and I mean a lot, to offend me. Taking staples out of papers doesn’t offend me. Now, say something about how you enjoy beating your wife, you’ll probably get my point of view…no, you will get my point of view. But come on, staples?

I think my favorite phrase around here is, “Oh, that’s okay.” No, if it’s bothering you, it isn’t okay. If you need clarification we can certainly do that. Saying that you don’t understand or something isn’t quite gelling really helps in the long run. Once someone gets trained to do something one way and a month down the road they are told that it is done a completely different way breeds frustration. I can just imagine (insert the gossip and the talking here).

All in all, I think it was a good move. The Salt Lake Temple is finally open again. Now I can do work before I go to work!

The awesomeness that is...

...learning where someone comes from.

Addendum after Laverna's comment: mind officialy blown.

Road Trip!

I've been on a few road trips in my adult life (Preston, Las Vegas, Denver). All three were fantastic times.

I went to Preston to see a friend from Basic Training. He got married and I was invited so I spent the night in Preston.

Las Vegas was a lot of fun. Like the South, you couldn't pay me enough to live there.

As we all know, Ashley lives in Denver. Back in the summer of 2006, Michelle and I took a little road trip to visit the fair city of Denver.

I've always listened to albums while on road trips. I'm about to go on a road trip and I'm going to make a play list. It's going to be called the Blow Your Mind List.

I would like to ask my reader(s) a question: What songs have blown your mind? I don't want to limit this to any time period or genre. Opinions are welcome. Submit as many songs as you would like.

Members of the Family

So.

While my mom and brother are in Illinois and Missouri, I am house sitting and taking care of Festivus. I know it's not the Festivus time of year. For the less informed or forgetful, Festivus is the dog. I would like to claim him as my own because mine is the name on his adoption papers but he is truly my sister's dog.

Festivus is, for lack of a better term, a spaz. I love my dog because he's so off the wall crazy in love with every human or non-human that comes through the front door. I think he has ADD. Would I love him less if there were doggie ADD? Nope. He's Festivus and always will be.

I felt bad that I left my apartment so late because I took a monster nap after some Bountiful Temple work, a meal, and great conversation at Cafe Rio. In some ways I felt I deserved it. Problem: I completely forgot the dog probably needed to use the bathroom. I'm so busy taking care of myself I sometimes forget about the remainder of God's creatures (if you know what movie this comes from, I'll give you...something). I head out to my brother's house to get the dog some bathroom time.

I was sitting on the steps to the house telling my dog to do his business. He started running up the stairs had he totally missed one. This is typical behavior for Festivus so I thought nothing of. Festivus has been known to trip over nothing on the floor so seeing him miss the step to the house made me laugh, call him silly, and go on our merry way. I sat down at the computer, turned on my brother's iTunes, and started surfing the world wide interweb that is on computers now. I hear some rustling over on his pillows. I look over my shoulder and he's nursing his paw. This can't be good.

I look at his paw and his left front dewclaw is screaming red. I called his doctor but they were closed. I then called the Pet E.R. on 2oth East and 62nd South. I described the situation and they told me to bring him in. Now, putting a dog in the back seat of your car is hard enough. Add an injury to that and you might as well know that you need to vacuum and spot clean once the trip is through.

We get to the Pet E.R. and they are very helpful. It's nice to know that not all people are afriad of dogs. They were so kind to him and only wanted to help him. I kept talking to my poor little Festie. I was trying to reassure him, and myself, that these people were there to help him and were going to fix him (It's okay, Festivus, they're here to help you. This is where a lot of other hurt doggies come, just like you. These are nice people that are going to make you feel better.). After the nurse took his vitals the vet came in took his look at it and said, "Well we're going to have to cut it off. It's quite painful because that's where all the nerve endings are so we're going to sedate him then give him a reversal so he can come right out of it. I'm going to take him back now so we can get this done."

My eyes became saucers. I asked the doctor of veternary medicine, "Can I come back there with him or do I have to stay here?"

With his eyes filling with empathy and a concerned brow furrow he said, "You're going to have to stay here."

My heart sank. Festivus is the closest thing I've had to a child. I knew there was no other choice. Reluctantly I handed over the leash of my Festuvus to the vet. I reminded Festuvus that he'd only be gone for a little bit and that they were going to help him. I knew everything was going to be okay because when the doctor opened the door to leave Festivus' tail was still high and wagging. It's that little reassurance I needed. He's still my happy doggie.

After being resigned to the doggie exam room, I called my dad. He has three dogs that he and his wife regularly take four-wheeling. We're a dog family. I told him of my plight and he laughed at me further confirming the bet we made after Festivus' first trip to the vet when he was washed of his fleas. Dad said, "In this dog's lifetime, I suspect he'll have to use a cone, he'll break one of his legs, and we'll have to bail him out of jail." Well, Festuvus has been injured so many times without breaking his leg that I'm really glad that he isn't the next Speedy. I don't think he's done anything illegal and he totally hated the cone so we got some pictures and never put it on him again.

The nurse brings him back into the doggie exam room and my poor dog looks drunk. He was stumbling all over the place, running into things, and the look on his face was priceless. He also had a doggie ace bandage wrapped around his leg from his elbow to his paw (all this for a dewclaw?). His little toenails were sticking out the bottom of it. He was coming out of his sedation. She told me to walk him around the waiting room and that would wake him up. As I was doing that she was charging my bank account for an undisclosed amount (think emergency room). As I was signing the little slip of paper, Festivus sat down and his front paws slid from underneath him and he ended up on the floor. My poor doggie. I got him into the car and we went home.

Fortunately Trish and Tristan were at the house to help document this event. They got video footage.