I'll have a horse with BBQ sauce please

I am hungry. My opposite twin, Gail and I have started a "diet". Such a nasty word! Gail and I have spent the last few months eating lunch together. We eat trash. No, not literally. But bacon, fries, chips and soda are our secret lovers. A "Biggest Loser" contest at work, with a jackpot of 400 bucks, is our motivation. I was just going to be Gail's coach "Jillian", but since it would be rude to continue to scarf down fries and soda in front of her, I would have to start eating "healthy" too, so I joined up.
On Monday the 28th a representative from L.A. Fitness showed up at our work with some dangerous weapons - calipers, measuring tape, and a scale. We were weighed, pinched, poked, prodded and measured. I will spare you the results.
Today is day 3. I need chocolate. I need it bad. We have cut out all soda, fries, and chips. Exercise is encouraged. Gail and I actually had salad for lunch. Gone are the days of jovial lunchtime conversation. Now we just munch on dry, flavorless veggies like two very depressed rabbits. Mmm...rabbits...I hear they taste like chicken....

What a loss!

Sunday the 27th of January, 2008, our Latter-day prophet, Gordon B. Hinckley passed away. He has served as the President of the church for a good chunk of my life - since 1995. I admire him for his endurance to the end as a faithful servant of the Lord. He had grace, charm, an undeniable testimony, and a cane - which he used to poke people and even knight Elder Eyring. The Church news has several articles on his passing, one of which contained tributes from public officials. I found this excerpt by Congressman Chris Cannon most touching:

"The passing of President Hinckley is a monumental loss. He was a man of sharp intellect and sharp wit....His legacy includes his unique ability to draw appropriate attention to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and its doctrines without diluting our beliefs....President Hinckley touched my life personally in many ways. Even as a child, he would remember my name when I saw him. How many names can one person remember? I suppose it derives from how much a person cares for others, and President Hinckley cared more than any other man I have ever known....No doubt President Hinckley has already heard the words, 'well done, thou good and faithful servant.'"

Besides the cane, this is one of my favorite thoughts - that President Hinckley loved and cared for everyone he met and even those he hadn't met. I will miss President Hinckley's sweet spirit and charm, but amid the tears I can not help but think how happy he must be to be with his wife again.

JT's Last Hoooorah

My friend JT (Jennie Taylor) has just left to go on a Mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (the Mormons). She is headed to Berlin, Germany. Before she gets too used to bratwurst and cabbage, she wanted to have one last hurrah with her favorite Jenny (that's me). So Saturday January 19th we headed to Palomar Airport for a San Diego Helicopter tour. Our appointment was at 2:30 pm and we arrived with minutes to spare. The only problem was, we were at the wrong airport. After a phone call or three, we had the correct number to Corporate Helicopter's and the correct address - Montgomery Field which was about thirty miles away. They graciously said they would wait up to an hour for us since we were the last tour of the day. JT got behind the wheel and I held on for dear life. Due to the congested freeway, we made it to Montgomery Field just under an hour later, where we were whisked away in a golf cart and led to a beautiful black helicopter named Raven II.
I buckled into the back seat and we were off! We flew over the temple and were able to see the atrium from the top and a wedding party on the grounds. Next we flew over UCSD and then to Torrey Pines. From there we took the coast south. Luckily the weather was superb. As we passed the infamous Black's Beach (known for it's promiscuous attendees), we were able to catch a naked volleyball game, and I didn't even avert my eyes! (We were about 500 feet up and we could only make out little pink dots jumping around.) La Jolla Shores was peppered with tiger sharks along the shoreline! We flew over La Jolla Cove and made an extra special hover so I could spot my current place of residence. I said "hey" to Shamu as we zoomed over Sea World. From Sea World we headed downtown where we could see Hotel Del Coronado. Finally we flew over Petco Park, Balboa Park, and Qualcom Stadium on our way back to the Airport.
The pilot mentioned that we were flying (or as I like to say "coptering") at about 115 miles an hour. At one point the pilot turned off the engine mid-air so we could feel what it was like to "coast" if the engines did indeed fail. My stomach dropped. Gee, thanks.

My face hurt from smiling at the sheer pleasure of our excursion. It was nothing short of awesome. It is sad that I won't be seeing JT for 18 months, but I do want to thank her for her final "death wish".

Birthday Wishes and Caviar Dreams

I just had a birthday. (I am too much of a lady to mention my age.) After a tasty dinner at Spice and Rice (aka "spicey ricey"), a group of my friends moved the party to my house for dessert. My roommate Kristal had frosted an angelfood cake and she and Fiona were cutting and serving it when Fiona said that her Guatamalan family tradition was to tell something nice about the person whose birthday it was. The handful of girls there agreed that they love my sense of humor. Lately I have lost it or at least misplaced it. I am on my way to find life's laughtrack once again.

First stop on the road to pure comedy: Car troubles.
It is hard to find something funny when you leave work on a Friday night a tad early and decide you have just enough time to get your car washed before your date and as your car comes out of the washer, the dryer guy tells you that your car is overheating and when he adds water to the empty radiator it starts to smoke and leak and you have to call a tow truck who takes forty-five minutes to pick you up and then he delivers you to a repair shop where they keep your car for three days so you have to rent a car for the weekend that you return Monday morning but the repair shop doesn't call you until Monday night at 5:13 pm to tell you your car is done and then charges you an arm and a leg and two molars and when you finally get your car back it smells greasy like a mechanic has been joy-riding in it all weekend. I suppose it is funny that I didn't tip the guys at the car wash.