Guess Who’s Coming to BYU

Friday, September 2. 7:30pm.

I’m really excited.

Also, not coming to BYU, but giving free concerts in Salt Lake City:

Decemberists: July 21

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros: July 28

Also coming to BYU: my bicycle.

This summer is so, so, so, so, so, so, so, and so awesome.

That last sentence is my shout-out to the Oxford comma. I love you, man.

Cussin the Weathah

I apologize for the bad video quality. Just pretend that is snow, too.

So, I missed my bus this morning, and I decided to walk toward campus to one of the bus stops that would take me to work. It’s about a 25 minute walk, and the weather was nice enough, though the sky was a little bit overcast.

The first 22 minutes were uneventful. I was hitting all the walk signals at the intersections, and I was making good time. I knew I wouldn’t miss this next bus.

Then, the last three minutes. I was heading east, and a gust of wind came from behind me and with it, a light flurry of snow flakes. Then, following that, more gusts and a steady, swirling, barrage of white, wet flakes. I raised my hands to the air and asked, “What is this?!?”

Yet, because I’m an old person and check the weather every day before I leave the apartment, I was expecting snow, so I wore my winter coat, and I was able to reach back and bring the hood over my head. I walked the rest of the way to the bus stop. I could have been way less grumpy.

I also had an umbrella in my backpack (old-person, boy-scout syndrome), but someone else had come to the bus stop, not prepared at all for the weather. I didn’t share the umbrella with her (cancels out boy-scout aspect, but retains parts of old person). I’m a horrible person when it snows at the end of April.

Oh, the first of my grades are in! My first Bs of my second-chance college career. Can you guess what subject?

New Height Standard

Why aren’t I studying for my French midterm? Because I don’t want to.

Is that weird grammar, why aren’t I? Why am I not? Why amin’t? That last one works. Stress the first syllable, schwa the middle vowel: /AM-ənt/.  Pretty easy, yeah? And quite useful.

Why amin’t studying for my French midterm? A friend sent me a photograph of her newly-turned 3-year old yesterday. He was sitting behind a huge chocolate cupcake with chocolate frosting on top and three candles staked into it, aflame. This was pre-consumption, obviously. I called this friend last night (before my hike at Rock Canyon) to wish her child a happy birthday. I’ve known this friend since we were 10 years old; I was her maid of honor. She calls my mother “Little Mom.” Her kids call me “Auntie May-May.” The least I could do was be a good aunt and get the update on the cupcake. Over the phone, it sounded like it turned into a performance art installation: chocolate smeared everywhere, on surfaces, little faces, pudgy fingers. I couldn’t be sure, but there also seemed to be interpretive dancing that included water guns that ARE NOT ALLOWED to be filled inside the house. In the name of art, mom, just this one time.

Anyway, when my friend was growing up, the children in her home weren’t considered “big kids” until they were taller than their grandmother. While the grandmother’s loving memory tarries, she has passed on, and so now my friend says that her children aren’t “big kids” until they’re taller than Auntie May-May. I told her I’d be more than happy to fill those shoes.

I had to write about it.

If by next year the then-4-year old is taller than me? SO not fair. Son’t fair at all.


Yesterday morning, I was just telling my seminary class about one of the seven cities John the Beloved wrote to, you know, the whole deal about not being lukewarm or the Lord would spew them out of his mouth. Because their water supply system was such that once water reached the city, it was no longer cold, but lukewarm. Revelation chapter 3, or thereabouts. The city named Laodicea.

And the winning word for this year’s bee? Laodicean. Further evidence seminary is inspired.

This article has a weird grammar typo subtitle. Somebody might have gotten a little too excited writing it. Ironic. Hilarious. Love it. I hope no one catches it.

Congratulations, Kavya. You were calm and poised and exceptionally prepared. You totally earned it.

What an incredibly fun bee.

Just As A Reminder

The possessive form of it is its. No apostrophe.

It’s = It is, or some other contraction, such as it has. Always. Garner should back me up on this. I don’t own Garner, but I have Fowler, who’s probably just as uppity, who says, “Just a reminder that its is the possessive form of it (the cat licked its paws) and that it’s is a shortened form of it is (It’s raining again) or it has (It’s come).”

Wow, I quoted Fowler almost verbatim.

So, if I’m reading your blog, and you say, “The summer has it’s happy moments,” please be aware my brain reads it AND it means, “The summer has it is happy moments.” If you intended that, that’s one thing, but if you’re referring to happy moments that belong to summer, it’s its. It is, I promise. Or, if you’re unsure, just say, “The summer has happy moments.” I always write my way around a rule if I don’t know it.

It’s a weird rule; its tendency to trip people up is historical. It’s annoying me, particularly today, for some reason. Its dark magic has wrested all tolerance from my soul.

I’ll stop before it gets more obnoxious.