Dear Utah,

Kenneth, aka, NBC's greatest page ever, once said "I think there's a lot about this world that we don't understand, like the afterlife or how bread becomes toast".


You know what else I bet Kenneth wouldn't understand?  Utah's obsession with ranch dressing.  Maybe it's not limited to Utah, but I swear, it's not a party if ranch dressing isn't invited.  Also, in Utah it's not even ranch dressing.  It's simply ranch.  You will commonly hear "where's the ranch?!" at any event involving food.


When I first went to college, which granted was in Idaho, (so maybe this post should be "Dear Utah AND Idaho") I was at Cragio's (or maybe we were ordering pizza late one night after curfew.  I can't really remember.  So many stories from college somehow involve pizza.  Riiiiiiiight?  Who's with me?) with my roommates and one of them insisted that we don't forget the ranch.  Ranch?  With pizza?  I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt since she was from Ohio but, the more and more I ate pizza in Idaho with more and more different people EVERYONE currently residing in Idaho had ranch as a dipping side. 
  
When I was a cycling instructor the fitness activities board went on a retreat and the coordinator told us that the first thing she made sure she bought was ranch dressing.  She said, to quote "I didn't even know what we'd be eating yet, but I knew we had to have ranch".  


When I moved to Utah the ranch dressing madness only continued.  I quickly learned that ranch was not limited to salad and pizza.  People put it on EVERYTHING.  Even just recently at work, someone had to make sure that ranch would make an appearance at the baked potato bar.  

The other day I was at the grocery store when I almost stopped dead in my tracks.  

This one grocery store had more types of ranch than I could possibly imagine.  There were different brands, different sizes and different flavors.  Then there were individual dipping sizes and powder mix in case you wanted to make your own dressing at home.  I was in total shock.  I am not kidding when I say there were at least twenty varieties of ranch dressing.  TWENTY.  Read 'em and weep ladies and gents.  I couldn't even adequately capture all of the varieties in these quick shots.  

Although, I will admit, that the bacon flavored ranch almost caught my attention.  Because bacon makes everything better.  

I beg your pardon?

Do you ever have those moments in a conversation where you are so caught off guard you have no idea how to respond?


Here are some of mine. 
Conversations I have actually had or things that people have actually said to me.

  

“Girrrrrrrrl.  You make Springtime look great.”

(said by someone potentially high and/or hung-over)

“Are you white?”

(read here for more details)

“Is he cute?”

“YEAH!”

“…really?”

(as if a cute boy could be interested in me?)

“You can make donuts?  I thought they were something you just bought.”

(umm…….)

“I’ll go on a date.  But I’m not going to kiss you just yet.”

(Thanks for the warning?)

"Wow.  This is taking a really long time.  I guess it's because I'm used to drawing skinny people."

(Is that a fat joke?)

"You're so good.  You're just such....a sweet spirit."

(do you know what that phrase means?)

And quite possibly my all time favorite...

“You’re a classy broad.”

(thank you 60 year old man that visits me at my desk)

dear boys 2

I'm hooked.

I love reading these letters written for anonymous boys.  I just can't get enough of it.







Dear quiet boy,
I'm pretty sure that we both know, and that we both know we both know.  Make sense?  All I'm saying is, it would be a guaranteed yes.  Just ask.  Just saying.
 
Dear neighbor boy,
I'm sending the missionaries over whether you like it or not.

Dear testimony boy,
I'm still dying on the inside and getting over the fact that you actually said "go out and get some" from the pulpit.  Didn't think that one through, did you?

Dear Justin Bieber boy,
Why oh why do your tickets have to be $200?  Don't you know that your fans are poor working girls?

Dear tall boy,
You would have an incredibly cute girlfriend.

name alert

I'm trying to amp up my blog.  AKA, lay out makeover (which is still in edit mode) and title.

when I was your age

The other day when I was at work the news was on they were talking about favorite retro toys.

Things like pogs, lite bright, easy bake ovens, beanie babies, etc.

At almost the exact same moment the thought crossed my mind, the anchor beat me to it and spoke it.

"Wait a minute, are the 90s retro?"
"Yeah!  They were 20 years ago!"

WHAT?!  How were the 90s twenty years ago?  TWENTY? 

Have I finally reached the age where it's appropriate to share stories from my childhood and kids today will look at me in horror, wondering how I possibly survived childhood?

Like when my mom tells me that her easy bake oven and creepy crawler maker were so dangerous she near missed electricution on multiple occassions?  Today they're powered by a light bulb. 

I know I still have a lot of my life to live, but sometimes it gets a little depressing.

Like when I find out that some of my friends were born in the 90s.  It's a line that once it's defined and crossed, it's hard to go back.  Not that I'm that far off, only a few years, but still.  I'm a prodcut of the 80s.  Who's born in the 90s?  Pfffft.     

Or when I was working at an elementary school and every single kid was born in --I don't even know what you'd say these days,--the thousands???!!

Here's to growing old.  It never stops.