tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79860349070247171662024-03-13T14:41:21.697-07:00a well-written lifeBecky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.comBlogger585125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-91393846723107463572010-10-04T09:09:00.000-07:002010-10-04T09:13:11.676-07:00MovingTravis and I may be moving to a new house soon (like a house with more than one bedroom) but I guess I'm also moving now.<br />Even though I promised myself I wouldn't.<br /><br />Please hop on over to my new blog, it has taken a place in my heart that cannot be removed and I assure you that it will not be all baby -things all the time.<br />But I can't help myself now. It's all I think about.<br />So <a href="http://babymakingbybecky.blogspot.com">babymakingbybecky.blogspot.com</a><br /><br />Come follow me.<br /><br />(that last sentence was not meant to sound sacrilegious)Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-25312733527007110122010-09-28T09:57:00.000-07:002010-09-28T09:58:51.661-07:00Baby makingI had to make a "themed" blog for one of my classes and update it every day.<br />I had a very perfect theme in front of me.<br /><br />Check out my baby blog:<a href="http://babymakingbybecky.blogspot.com"> babymakingbybecky.blogspot.com</a>Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-60027241919888666402010-09-27T09:02:00.000-07:002010-09-27T09:27:18.576-07:00DistractedI have not been writing on my blog very much lately.<br />This is why, I have been much distracted:<br /><br /><iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/15280220" frameborder="0" height="338" width="601"></iframe><p><a href="http://vimeo.com/15280220">Listen</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user3440312">Becky Pitcher</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</p><p><br /></p><p>I am 12 weeks along. Which is the designated time for me to be allowed to tell people the nicest secret ever. Which is a hard secret to keep.</p>Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-25650371908775438252010-09-22T09:42:00.000-07:002010-09-22T09:42:00.240-07:00Merry Christmas, you filthy animal!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TJkqh-gE4iI/AAAAAAAAA0A/CkBQk1LmNfc/s1600/home-alone-1-1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TJkqh-gE4iI/AAAAAAAAA0A/CkBQk1LmNfc/s400/home-alone-1-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519489581520839202" border="0" /></a><br />I have a hard time deciding whether Home Alone 1 or 2 is my favorite.<br />Especially during Christmas season.<br /><br />Which I think it is. Even though everyone else disagrees.<br /><br />As I watched Home Alone 2 yesterday and pondered what an amazing Christmas/kid classic it is I wondered if my children will even understand it.<br />Will they watch it and think "Why doesn't Kevin just call his mom's cell phone?"<br />Or "why can't they just call him on Skype and spend Christmas together even though they're apart?"<br />Will they wonder how it is possible to get on the wrong flight at such high security airports?<br />Will they wonder why the people at the hotel let Kevin use a credit card without providing I.D. or at least contacting his father?<br /><br />Will they even recognize pay phones?<br />I hardly do.<br /><br />Will we have heated sidewalks that make them question the slippery ice that so often is the downfall of the bad guys?<br /><br />Oh. My poor future children.<br />And thank goodness they made these wonderful movies when they did.<br />They could never work nowadays.<br />Kids would never buy it.<br />(Since it was so believable in the 90s)<br /><br />But I hope that they understand that part at the end of both movies when all Kevin wants is to see his mom.<br />Because moms are the best.<br /><br />And so shall I be the best.Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-79429292394624749182010-09-21T08:16:00.001-07:002010-09-21T08:17:05.423-07:00Pancakes in the morningI love home movies.<div>Like this one.</div><div><br /></div><div><iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/15157029?portrait=0" width="601" height="338" frameborder="0"></iframe><p><a href="http://vimeo.com/15157029">Becky Breakfast In The Morning.</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/travispitcher">travispitcher</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.</p></div>Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-64885052886733869902010-09-18T09:55:00.000-07:002010-09-18T10:05:28.173-07:00My Saturdays have been stolenSaturdays are a special day.<div>They're the only day of the week when I get to sleep in.</div><div>Eat a luxurious breakfast.</div><div>Wander around the farmer's market hand in hand with my husband while bantering happily with the vendors who are now our friends, and accepting the free apple here or jalapenos there.</div><div><br /></div><div>They are a nice day when we can come home and relax and I can bake a tasty treat with the fruit we just scored and clean up the living room, and finish a project here or a project there that I've been working on. (Like all the hats I've been knitting.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Travis and I might sit on the couch, eating peaches and milk and watching a movie with the door open so a breeze comes in.</div><div><br /></div><div>BUT NOW.</div><div>I work every Saturday morning.</div><div>I come home in the afternoons stressed and tired and collapse into our untidied living room.</div><div>Travis says things like "I got these apples today," and hands me a bag of mushy-ish apples. (Can't he even choose apples without me?) and says "And they were out of eggs so we have to go get the tasteless salmonella eggs from the store."</div><div>And I don't want to bake or clean because NOW I want to relax.</div><div>So we sit on the couch with the door open, so it airs out the weird stink of our house and watch a movie while eating something neither delicious nor romantic, like potato chips until we feel sick because of all the sitting and the stinking and the chips.</div><div><br /></div><div>And I blame my job.</div><div>Because clearly I am happier at home than elsewhere.</div><div>Unless elsewhere is the farmer's market.</div>Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-12962659959797218792010-09-15T18:08:00.000-07:002010-09-15T18:31:25.069-07:00Non-linearAfter a recent literary conversation, followed by a similar religious conversation I have been thinking a lot about linear lives.<br /><br />Because we don't really live linearly.<br />Chronologically, yes.<br />But the only time our lives are linear is the present. When we look at the past (or the future) we pick out moments.<br />The time I fell rollerblading down the big hill behind my house.<br />Sitting in hot tub on our honeymoon, watching Home Alone 2, because it is especially romantic.<br />Finding out my mom was pregnant with Kathryn-to-be.<br />Wrestling a pillow away from Travis in the middle of the night.<br />Playing crack the whip on the pond behind our house.<br /><br />They're not all <span style="font-style: italic;">events</span>. They're just memories.<br />And with some effort I could probably put them into chronological order.<br />But not linear order.<br />They're like beads on a thread. A moment. A moment. A moment.<br />But they're not just a thread alone.<br /><br />Yesterday morning I woke up, and Travis had his arm thrown over my waist and was sharing my pillow and I thought of a moment when I was in high school.<br />I wasn't depressed in high school, I was usually pretty happy. But I remember being about 15 and lying in my bed, sobbing myself to sleep.<br />I just kept wishing and praying that my life would pass quickly and I would wake up one morning and be<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">exactly where I am now.</span><br /><br />And that did not happen.<br /><br />I had to live life at the normal speed for the last 7 years.<br />And when I look back it's not a blur. Even now, it doesn't seem to me that it "sped by," although I am amazed at how quickly time flies.<br />I am, of course, grateful that I had all of the experiences I did, and that they didn't happen especially quick.<br />But at the same time... my 15 year old self knew what was up.<br />Because I have never been so happy as I am now.<br /><br />Mormons believe that being married is ordained of God. We're supposed to be married.<br />And I,<br />I was <span style="font-style: italic;">made </span>to be married.<br /><br />It's everything I ever hoped it would be.<br />It's better.<br /><br />And nearly every day I slide another little bead, a moment, a happiness on to my thread.<br />And think, "I will remember this forever."<br />(even if I won't)<br /><br />And my chronological, but non-linear life is perfectly perfect and ideally ideal.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TJFzWdqV4SI/AAAAAAAAAz4/BX3Ib8ZUZvw/s1600/9134_125577773537_507588537_2322378_1493900_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 398px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TJFzWdqV4SI/AAAAAAAAAz4/BX3Ib8ZUZvw/s400/9134_125577773537_507588537_2322378_1493900_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517317848262107426" border="0" /></a>Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-10773048403122813712010-09-14T14:01:00.000-07:002010-09-14T14:10:53.627-07:00Candy Corn<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TI_kvrgFHvI/AAAAAAAAAyo/QRY2Ta1PeCw/s1600/20081030-candycorn-autumnmix.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TI_kvrgFHvI/AAAAAAAAAyo/QRY2Ta1PeCw/s400/20081030-candycorn-autumnmix.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516879576334409458" border="0" /></a><br />All of my favorite candies are seasonal.<br />I wait impatiently all year for candy canes (and peppermints are <span style="font-style: italic;">not </span>the same), and those caramel-filled Cadbury eggs, and -of course- Candy Corn.<br />Candy corn is the number 1.<br />I have eaten an entire bag of Autumn Mix Candy Corn this week. I eat them in order.<br />A regular, a chocolate, a regular, a chocolate, a pumpkin (green top first), then I repeat.<br /><br />Sometimes in February or August I get the craving for Candy Corn and buy the cheap-o generic yellow corn-only Candy Corn in the candy isle of gas stations.<br />I think "If I can't have real candy corn, this will have to do."<br />But it doesn't do.<br />It makes matters worse.<br /><br />Because that candy corn is so filled with corn syrup that it hurts my teeth.<br />But the equally unhealthy Brachs Candy Corn is made with real honey, and something about that real honey balances out the sugar and corn-syrup and I eat it until I throw up and then I think<br />"I need another bag, since that last bag was wasted."<br /><br />I never feel remorse for eating it.<br />Although my current bag is nearly empty and I will not eat any more after it is.<br /><br />For at least a few days...Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-39848850486713086452010-09-10T18:58:00.000-07:002010-09-10T19:02:32.998-07:00The tip-top tier<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TIriysn5xBI/AAAAAAAAAx8/HL6_W-aiNK4/s1600/14344_322751395622_808205622_9429283_5104019_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TIriysn5xBI/AAAAAAAAAx8/HL6_W-aiNK4/s400/14344_322751395622_808205622_9429283_5104019_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515470054268453906" /></a><br />I was just looking at some wedding pictures and I love how teeny-tiny our cake looks!<br />Especially since I've been watching Cake Boss and these people have jumbonormous cakes, and ours is just like the tiny tip-top of a cake.<br />But I love it.<br />And there was just enough to cut and eat and it was delicious.<br /><br />And also, I think my dad had a piece... but no one else did.<div>Aaand I think my cousin Nichole took this picture.</div><div>It was on my facebook...</div><div><br /></div><div>p.s. Look how long my hair is!</div><div>Aaand what a big dork I am in that sweater. In my defense, I was freezing.</div>Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-15831483618383460922010-09-08T21:34:00.000-07:002010-09-08T22:00:22.118-07:00In defense of Mormons (myself included) <meta name="Title" content=""> <meta name="Keywords" content=""> <meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> <meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"> <meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 2008"> <meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 2008"> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:documentproperties> <o:template>Normal.dotm</o:Template> <o:revision>0</o:Revision> <o:totaltime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:pages>1</o:Pages> <o:words>912</o:Words> <o:characters>5199</o:Characters> <o:company>Brigham Young University</o:Company> <o:lines>43</o:Lines> <o:paragraphs>10</o:Paragraphs> <o:characterswithspaces>6384</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:version>12.0</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:drawinggridverticalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--><p class="MsoNormal">I am not brainwashed.<span style=""> </span>I am capable of forming my own opinions. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">And when my opinions align with the opinions of my church I don’t appreciate people telling me that I am “blindly following whatever you're told to do” as I was recently accused of doing. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I was also informed that I do not follow any of Jesus Christ’s teachings and that my personal goal is to take away the rights of blacks and gays.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Thank you for informing me of my personality and goals.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This is not okay.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And what I’m looking for in this post isn’t a bunch of comments saying things like “Oh Becky, you totally follow Christ. You’re a good person.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I am looking to clear the air.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We’ll begin with me apparently trying to take away the rights of others.<span style=""> </span>I suppose that means that I am at fault for Prop 8 being voted through twice.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Fine. Even though I didn’t vote, donate money or spend time in call centers trying to convince others over the phone… I will take responsibility for that. I am not bothered by this.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Less than 13% of the Californian population is Mormon. That means that if every Mormon voted for Prop 8 and every non-Mormon voted against it, Prop 8 would have failed by 87%.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But it didn’t.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Yes, Mormons had something to do with that. Yes, members of the Mormon church donated their personal time and money to trying to pass a law they believe in.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But surely we can’t take all the credit.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And yet, of the 39% of the rest of the Pro-Prop 8ers, no one seems to be harassed to the same extent that we were and are. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">If Mormons stand up and say, “We believe that marriage between a man and a woman is ordained of God” that is not secret code for “We hate Gays and so does God.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We do not hate gays. Most of us don’t even <i style="">dislike</i> gays. Sure, when hordes of screaming homosexuals spray paint rude, profane and frankly <i style="">bigoty </i>things on our homes and churches we feel uncomfortable and maybe (quite understandably) afraid for our lives.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But I have yet to hear a Mormon say “Gays are evil. Gays are wrong. Gays do not deserve the same rights as us.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We don’t preach or practice those doctrines.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Most Mormons, myself included, believe that being Gay isn’t something you can control. We don’t even see being Gay as being a sin, since God doesn’t punish you for things you can’t control.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">In fact, nearly every Mormon I’ve spoken to about this has expressed grief for the hardships that homosexuals endure. Because, yes, we do believe Sodomy is a sin. And we understand that to be attracted to someone and never be able to act on it may be one of the hardest trials to live through on earth.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But we also believe that people are blessed for living the way that God wants them to. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I know that probably makes Gays angry (and yet I will try not to inform you of how you feel, since I know that I hate being told by others how<i style=""> I</i> feel.). I have had several people yell at me, or to others near me or write nasty things on my blog.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So be it.<span style=""> </span>As long as you’re angry because we pity you or we grieve with you or we wish we could help you understand where <i style="">we </i>are coming from.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And you’re not angry because, as you seem to believe, we hate you.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Especially me, apparently.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Guess what, Mormons are <i style="">used </i>to persecution. We know what it’s like for people to pass laws specifically to spite us. We were driven from the United States and were forced to form our own little community in Utah where people would stop burning down our houses and killing our children. We kept moving to places people didn’t want, like a swamp or a desert, hoping –just maybe—that people would leave us alone.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But still you won’t. Our churches are still being burned down.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">People are accusing us of being unaccepting, unloving bigots.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Do you know what a bigot is? “A <b style="">bigot</b> is a person obstinately or intolerantly devoted to his or her own opinions and prejudices, especially one exhibiting intolerance, irrationality, and animosity toward those of differing beliefs.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"> A bigot is not someone who has different beliefs than you. A bigot is someone who is irrational, intolerant, and obstinately devoted to their own opinions.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I have yet to see those qualities exhibited by the Mormon church or individuals in the case of Gay rights. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">And yet, when I go to Salt Lake people on the corner yell at me and hold up a sign that says “Go to Hell, Mormons.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We are not the bigots in this situation.
<br />
<br />And the part about me taking away the rights of blacks… I don’t even know what that could possibly mean. I have no refute because I have never even heard the rumor that Mormons think white people are a cut above the rest of the world or that we deserve more rights.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Which is good, since Travis and I went to several Mormon churches in Africa and there certainly weren’t any whites besides us there. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">And one would assume that Africans would not follow the teachings of an anti-black, pro-white church unless they were being forced somehow.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And even then, I think they’d have some problems.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">In case I have not made myself clear (although I’m pretty sure that I have), I try every single day to follow the teachings of Jesus Christ.
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Examples include, loving, accepting and trying to help those around me, understanding principles before “blindly” following them, and making an effort help others understand what I believe, but not forcing them to follow or agree with me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The church recently released <a href="http://newsroom.lds.org/ldsnewsroom/eng/news-releases-stories/church-statement-on-proposition-8-ruling">a statement concerning the Prop 8 ruling</a>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It is short, I encourage you all to read it and determine if it is in anyway hateful, rude, condescending or even negative at all. Especially if it follows the rules of bigotry, is it exhibiting or encouraging intolerance, irrationality, and animosity toward those of differing beliefs?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">If you are a reader who is angry with this post and want to leave me a mean comment, please do. However, I ask that you do not leave an unrelated, sarcastic comment like “How weird that people want rights” or “Bizarre how angry people get when you treat them unfairly.” I have gotten those comments before.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I am actually interested in a legitimate opinion concerning something I’ve written, not in an angry tirade that is mostly unrelated to what I’m talking about.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I hope you all have a very nice day, even (and maybe especially), if you are Gay.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TIhlJvtszVI/AAAAAAAAAx0/PI6MYkPVddM/s1600/IMG_0368.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 380px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TIhlJvtszVI/AAAAAAAAAx0/PI6MYkPVddM/s400/IMG_0368.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514768961816546642" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">(p.s. We don’t practice polygamy in the Mormon church. Stop accusing us of it.)</p> <!--EndFragment--> Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-90828725144096516482010-09-07T10:20:00.000-07:002010-09-07T10:38:37.476-07:00Movies about brothersLast night Travis and I watched a movie with Travis's sister and brother-in-law.<br />He grabbed a stack of movies, stuck them in his bag and said "We'll figure out what we want to watch when we get there."<br />On the scooter, driving to Chris and Camille's house I asked "What movies did you bring?"<br />"All our movies about brothers," he said.<br />"<em>The Brothers Bloom</em>? <em>A River Runs Through it</em>? maybe... <em>Oh Brother, where art thou</em>?" I guessed.<br /><br />"Yes," he said. "And some others."<br /><br />He began with plausible titles that might actually be movies but I know we do not own such as <em>Blood brothers</em>, and <em>Brothers in arms</em>.<br /><br />And moved on to,<br /><em>Time for Brother, time for tea</em>. "A british film, very boring. Based on something dumb Jane Austen wrote."<br /><br /><em>Hermanos </em>"a Spanish film."<br /><br /><em>Oh my Brother, Jet Li.</em> "A kung fu movie, in Chinese it is <em>SamYiGumJETLI</em>!"<br /><br /><em>Brother, we're a dead man.</em> "About siamese twins. You know, because they're two people. But one man."<br /><br /><em>Brother, I am running with two knees braces! Look at that girl with two knee braces!</em> (I'm not sure where the title ends and commentary begins on that one.)<br /><br /><em>Pierre, Je t'aime.</em> "A french film about the weird sexual tension and romance between two brothers who might not actually be brothers."<br /><br /><em>I used to be your brother, but now I'm your sister.</em> "I don't actually know what that's about, I haven't seen it. But there's a very ugly woman on the front."<br /><br />This continued in a stream for 15 minutes straight.<br />I only wish I could remember the other films he supposedly brought for us to choose from.<br /><br />We ended up watching The Terminal.<br />Which is in no way about brothers.<br />But which is also very good.Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-4097701481163141752010-09-03T12:15:00.000-07:002010-09-03T12:15:00.443-07:00Beer breathI have recently perfected<a href="http://www.kingarthurflour.com/recipes/no-knead-crusty-white-bread-recipe"> this </a>gorgeous and delicious bread.<br />If pressured by my very hungry husband (boy can he eat!) I can make it several times a week.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TIBGOArvvFI/AAAAAAAAAxM/ISHgnDB0UuY/s1600/img_4375.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 310px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TIBGOArvvFI/AAAAAAAAAxM/ISHgnDB0UuY/s400/img_4375.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512483150417083474" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It is almost always perfect. I am very proud.<br />But the thing I like most about it is the smell before you cook it.<br /><br />You pull the dough out of the fridge where it's been resting for a day or two, take off the Saran wrap and BAM!<br />The sour smell of dough and yeast, smelling exactly like beer breath hits your nostrils.<br /><br />You think I am gross for saying that I love that smell.<br />And let me say, I do not usually like when people have beer breath.<br /><br />BUT beer breath is not a smell that I get whiffs of on a regular basis here on BYU campus.<br />And to be frank, my high school friends were pretty much all good Lutherans who didn't really drink, or people who liked me enough not to invite me to parties they'd be drinking at.<br /><br />So the only time I ever really smelled beer breath up close was when I was with my family.<br />The Froelich side.<br />And let me say, Froelichs are kissers. This is something I didn't know until Travis started meeting people and going "Ew gross, you kissed your grandpa <span style="font-style: italic;">on the mouth"</span> or "I can't believe you've just kissed every aunt and uncle in this entire room. Do I have to?"<br /><br /><br />Yep, we're kissers. We pucker up our lips and give each other a kiss on the cheek, or in the case of grandparents, sometimes on the lips.<br />And I never noticed.<br /><br />It was very normal to me.<br /><br />But the smell of this bread, when I pull it out of the fridge to let it rise smells like tickly mustaches, and curling up in an armchair with my Grandpa Roger, and even (dare I say it?) a little like holidays.<br />I'm sure that my good Mormon parents are horrified to read this.<br />Embarrassed maybe that beer makes me think of my family.<br /><br />But I have a very distinct memory of sitting in an armchair with my grandpa, asking for a sip of his pop.<br />He gave me a drink all right, but it was not soda. I choked while he chuckled in his red-cheeked grandfathery sort of way.<br />Oh, how funny they were.<br /><br />There, sadly, were several other times when I fell for this trick.<br />Kids are just plain stupid.<br />But after I learned to <span style="font-style: italic;">smell </span>the beer before drinking, I wised up.<br /><br />And yet. I smell beer and I think of grandpas and uncles and Minnesota and it makes me feel nostalgic and silly.<br />And I like it.<br /><br />This is what I think of when I smell that bread.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TIBGPU2GSBI/AAAAAAAAAxc/4wOWYyMsWsg/s1600/SCN_0001-2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 374px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TIBGPU2GSBI/AAAAAAAAAxc/4wOWYyMsWsg/s400/SCN_0001-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512483173009082386" border="0" /></a>This is me in a night gown, snuggled up on an armchair with Grandpa Roger, who does not look as jovial as usual.<br />But I seem very happy, despite my terrible bowl cut.<br /><br /><br />And this is an unrelated but awesome photo that I came across while looking for the picture above.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TIBGOmTQysI/AAAAAAAAAxU/06lGxzrvvyM/s1600/Mullets+%281+of+1%29.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TIBGOmTQysI/AAAAAAAAAxU/06lGxzrvvyM/s400/Mullets+%281+of+1%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512483160514939586" border="0" /></a><br />Dad, nice mullet <span style="font-style: italic;">and </span>mustache.<br />Mom, nice mullet <span style="font-style: italic;">and </span>blue eye shadow.<br />Creepy.<br />But that cute baby is me.<br />(Their anniversary just came and went recently. Happy 22 years of marriage, you guys. You've only gotten better at doing your hair.)Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-46202402072506686132010-09-02T19:34:00.000-07:002010-09-02T19:34:00.640-07:00Bleeding Heart<i>"You know the problem with being a bleeding heart?"</i><div><i><br /></i><div><i>"Are you a bleeding heart?"</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"Yes. I think so. Don't you think so?"</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"Oh yes. I think bleeding heart, synonym: Travis Pitcher."</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"Well, I am."</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"So what's the problem?"</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"You just let your heart bleed too much. Until you're out of blood."</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"Then you stop caring? Or are you dead?"</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"There's just so much wrong with the world. There's so much to do. I want to do something. Something real, something that matters. But if you let yourself care too much you just dry up until you're discouraged looking at everything that has to be done."</i></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>So, blog readers. Help Travis "bleeding heart" Pitcher out.</div><div>Everything I know about poverty, about women's rights, about child mortality, about the spread of disease, and about every major problem in the world tells me that problems could be solved if we had that one magic thing:</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Education.</span></div><div>I know that my last post was a little anti-school. But really it was anti-useless school. Which is something, sometimes (when I'm sitting in a class about facebook or Victorian Literature) I feel like I am paying for.</div><div><br /></div><div>Travis recently did a <a href="http://tippingbucket.org/">Tipping Bucket </a>to help underprivileged kids right here in the USA get education.</div><div><a href="http://tippingbucket.org/">Go donate a dollar asap</a>.</div><div>But I just want to brag a teeny-tiny bit about my sweet bleeding heart husband.</div><div>Travis has made several films for the Tipping Bucket, most of which are helping raise money for education.</div><div>Travis has made a beautiful documentary for Komaza, an organization in Kenya helping farmers come out of poverty, and although they don't say it in the documentary I sat and listened to farmer after farmer say "the things I will spend this money on are school fees for my children."</div><div><br /></div><div>Travis isn't changing laws or pushing bills or helping revolutions to rise.</div><div>But every time he helps make it possible for one more kid to go to school he changes their life.</div><div>He changes the lives of their families and their future posterity. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's hard to look out at the world and see all the problems.</div><div>And it's really hard for some of us (me) to ever focus on the problems of anyone beside ourselves.</div><div>And I'm really proud of my bleeding heart husband.</div><div><br /></div><div>And if you want to help, but don't quite know how...</div><div><a href="http://tippingbucket.org/">start by donating a dollar.</a></div><div><br /></div><div><iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/14416308" width="601" height="338" frameborder="0"></iframe><p><a href="http://vimeo.com/14416308">WISHBONE- Dare Your Courage</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user973608">travispitcher</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.</p></div></div>Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-39851971498350192252010-09-02T06:55:00.000-07:002010-09-02T07:22:32.973-07:00So, back to school<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TH-zHsmcmNI/AAAAAAAAAxE/0Z7PvkD2QBA/s1600/ch1.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 313px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VikKtB3kJu0/TH-zHsmcmNI/AAAAAAAAAxE/0Z7PvkD2QBA/s400/ch1.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512321413737650386" /></a><br />I am going today to my fourth day of school this semester.<div>On Monday I went and was relatively excited. </div><div>It was cool, brisk, and campus was filled with little people asking directions and studying their freshman planners with maps in the back.</div><div><br /></div><div>I thought "This is my last fall on campus!" and then felt sad, nostalgic-like.</div><div>Tuesday morning I woke up thinking that it was Thursday. Already.</div><div>I cannot keep track of the days during the school year.</div><div><br /></div><div>I went to my first class and after ten minutes I decided I couldn't bear it anymore, and I had the syllabus and I would just get up and leave for the rest of the day. </div><div>That's how desperate I felt.</div><div>Immediately.</div><div>Luckily my prof was on the same wave-length. "You all know how to read, so go read your syllabus in peace. I won't read it to you."</div><div>Class dismissed 12 minutes in.</div><div><br /></div><div>Good thing I stayed those extra two minutes. </div><div>I would have felt foolish if I'd left two minutes before being dismissed.</div><div>But I was literally packing up when he said that.</div><div><br /></div><div>By Wednesday, I'm back into the resigned rhythm of things.</div><div>I get up. Meh.</div><div>I go to class. Meh.</div><div>I sit in back by a boy I used to have a crush on, even though I had previously decided not to sit there.</div><div>But there were no other seats. Meh. Of course not.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then we get out of class ten minutes late, since the prof says as the bell rings "Oh, don't leave without your assignment." Then talks for eight minutes and says, "And just start reading, no real page number to get to." Meh. Professors. Bleh. Assignments.</div><div><br /></div><div>I escape into the serious fire hazard that is the JKB and fight to the back stairs with four hundred other people, while another four hundred fight their way in. Meh. I blame freshman for all of my campus problems.</div><div>Freshman are the reason Professors treat us like babies, right? (I like being a Senior and getting to rip on Freshman.)</div><div><br /></div><div>I make it to my next class late and our professor doesn't understand any of the jokes we crack.</div><div>It's a good class.</div><div>And it's full of other English major seniors. I know them all.</div><div>I like when people say "Hey Becky, how was your summer?"</div><div><div>I find it comforting.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Our prof says "Has anyone ever died playing video games?"</div><div>"Socially?" asks someone; we all laugh and so does our professor. But then she says, "Not kills you've had in your war games. Actual deaths."</div><div><br /></div><div>And then we all laugh again. </div><div>Because she didn't actually understand the joke.</div><div>But she doesn't know that.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then work. Meh.</div><div>Then another class where I go and sit and get the syllabus and literally do not know whether or not it's the classroom I'm supposed to be in.</div><div>People say "We've had a class together. Did you take whatever with Professor so and so?"</div><div>And I don't know.</div><div>Because all of my English classes from past semesters have blended into one long literature class by this time. Meh.</div><div>I have a hard time even picturing different professors I've had, let alone remembering what class I had them for.</div><div>I usually just remember whether or not I liked them. Meh.</div><div><br /></div><div>You're sick of this, too. </div><div>Aren't you?</div><div><br /></div><div>That's okay. I'm getting bored and discouraged just typing about school.</div><div>Meh. Bleh.</div><div>School.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div>Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-65951539310347845042010-08-30T15:06:00.001-07:002010-08-31T09:21:10.550-07:00The road to my house<div>is paved with good intentions.</div><div>(That was a very poor pun.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Recently I was very lucky in that two of my best friends from home in good ol' Buffalo Minnesota came to see me!</div><div>Okay, fine, so their intentions were not exactly based around visiting me, but more around finding somewhere free to sleep in Utah on their road trip home from California.</div><div>But whatever.</div><div>I accept.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/beckyloganeli.jpg?t=1283205974"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 692px; height: 461px;" src="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/beckyloganeli.jpg?t=1283205974" alt="" border="0" /></a>It's been over a year since I've seen anyone from home (except the three or four family members from MN who came to my wedding last October)<div>and it was a refreshing change to see them here instead of in Buffalo.</div><div><br /></div><div>Hey. The rest of you Minnesotans thinking to yourselves "I wish I could see Becky," take a leaf out of Logan and Eli's book and come stay here.</div><div>I will let you sleep in my house and I will feed you.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's not too bad a gig.</div><div>I miss all these folks.</div><div><br /></div><div>p.s. Logan looks like a teeny tiny little person next to Eli and me.</div>Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-19630030471261555862010-08-28T19:03:00.000-07:002010-08-28T19:21:40.593-07:00SushiSushi is both easier and more difficult to make than I expected.<br /><br />It is easier because it turns out that all you do is take a sheet of Norri (roasted seaweed sushi paper) and pile on some sushi rice, a few slices of cucumber, avocado and imitation crab (who can afford real crab?) and then roll it up.<br /><br />BUT it is much more difficult to roll than it should be.<br />And if, like me, you think of putting a handful of each ingredient on the Norri before rolling it...<br />let me advise you: don't.<br />Just a little will do.<br /><br />Or else your roll will taste good but look like a no-armed man with a mallet rolled and chopped it.<br />You will have to eat it with a spoon.<br /><br />But it will be delicious.<br /><br />And here's the price breakdown of making it yourself.<br />Enough fake crab for a California roll: about .25$<br />Enough avocado for a California roll (1/4avocado): .25$<br />Enough cucumber for a California roll (1/8 cucumber): .13$<br />Enough sushi rice for a California roll (1/4cup): .10$<br />AND 1 sheet of Norri: .20$<br /><br />Making the grad homemade total of...<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />93 cents a roll!</span><br /><br />I'm starting to think, <span style="font-style: italic;">who cares if you have to eat it with a spoon in the comfort of your own home with a side of Animal crackers</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">and extra sushi rice</span>?<br /><br />If it costs less than a dollar, it is totally worth it.<br /><br />And another tip from a now seasoned sushi-chef: Those bamboo mat things might seem like a non-required for sushi-making scam for your money.<br />They aren't.<br /><br />Buy one, or your rolls -if they manage to hold together (as Travis managed to make the second roll hold) will fall apart the moment you touch down to the soy sauce bowl.Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-23853933388661583692010-08-27T17:38:00.000-07:002010-08-27T17:58:07.104-07:00Matt and Lana crouched under a treeK-I-S-S-I-N-G!<br /><br />I am very excited about Lana being married.<br />Especially because it is to Matt.<br /><br />When we found out they were talking marriage Travis said, "Well, she'd be a freaking idiot <span style="font-style: italic;">not </span>to marry him, since they're clearly awesome together."<br /><br />Good thing Lana is not a freaking idiot.<br /><br />Today I got to take their engagement photos, which was aaawesome! They are a really fun and super attractive couple, which made today work out, despite all the mishaps.<br />Mishap example: A perfect dusky cloudy day went from perfect to raining to REALLY harsh sunlight in about a half hour and remained really harsh until we were pretty much done.<br />It is possible that I made them huddle under a tree in the semi-shade.<br />I think that really annoyed poor Matthew.<br />Mishap example 2: We had planned on doing the photos in a canoe, but the canoe rentals were closed because it was so very windy.<br />Mishap example 3: I had an allergic reaction to all the plant life surrounding Utah Lake.<br /><br />We seriously finished these photos less than an hour ago, but I already want to share a few of my favorites.<br />I can't wait any longer!<br />Aren't they a good-looking pair?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_9180.jpg?t=1282956711"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 651px; height: 434px;" src="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_9180.jpg?t=1282956711" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_9158.jpg?t=1282956711"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 325px; height: 488px;" src="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_9158.jpg?t=1282956711" alt="" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_9195.jpg?t=1282956669"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 325px; height: 486px;" src="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_9195.jpg?t=1282956669" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_9194.jpg?t=1282956641"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 650px; height: 433px;" src="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_9194.jpg?t=1282956641" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_9184.jpg?t=1282956622"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 321px; height: 482px;" src="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_9184.jpg?t=1282956622" alt="" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_9046.jpg?t=1282956541"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 326px; height: 489px;" src="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_9046.jpg?t=1282956541" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_9069.jpg?t=1282956558"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 325px; height: 486px;" src="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_9069.jpg?t=1282956558" alt="" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_9028.jpg?t=1282956518"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 325px; height: 487px;" src="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_9028.jpg?t=1282956518" alt="" border="0" /></a>Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-33304638128491700202010-08-25T14:49:00.000-07:002010-08-25T14:56:11.254-07:00Hell-matesThat is what we always call helmets.<br />Mostly because it's slightly silly.<br />But also because I HATE wearing a helmet on the scooter.<br />It messes up my hair.<br />It makes it hard to hear.<br />It sometimes gives me a headache.<br /><br />But now we have new totally awesome helmets, which I shall probably still call a hell-mate, even though I like it:<br />We got them from Korea.<br /><br />With a little hand-written note, too.<br />How sweet.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/Together.jpg?t=1282773133"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 678px; height: 451px;" src="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/Together.jpg?t=1282773133" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/Travisgoggles.jpg?t=1282773146"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 690px; height: 460px;" src="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/Travisgoggles.jpg?t=1282773146" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/Nicenote.jpg?t=1282772963"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 681px; height: 454px;" src="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/Nicenote.jpg?t=1282772963" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/BeckyHelmet.jpg?t=1282772963"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 690px; height: 459px;" src="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/BeckyHelmet.jpg?t=1282772963" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Cute, right?Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-64364843868313576112010-08-19T16:05:00.000-07:002010-08-19T16:34:38.245-07:00Campus RealizationsToday as I walked across campus on my way home I had a little conversation with an imaginary person.<div>First I said, "I love seeing the Freshmen. Some with braces, with BYU t-shirts they bought today or yesterday at the bookstore, some with little-kid skinniness-especially around the elbows. I think they're so cute. So surprisingly little."</div><div>Imaginary person said, "I love seeing them taking pictures in front of the statue of Brigham Young. You <i>do</i> have a gorgeous campus, you know."</div><div>"It is nice, isn't it?" I said (nonchalantly, of course).</div><div><br /></div><div>And it was, with the sun dappled leaves casting polk-dotted shadows and green and flowers everywhere.</div><div>And suddenly I realized something.</div><div>For real. </div><div>Even though I've <i>known</i> it for ages.</div><div><br /></div><div>Next year at this time I won't have any excuse to buy bouquets of sharpened pencils, or go school shopping, and if I'm walking down a tree-lined street surrounded by the brilliance of orange leaves...</div><div>I won't be walking to or from school.</div><div><br /></div><div>I might be hanging up a newly acquired diploma inside my newly acquired apartment, which could be <i>anywhere</i>. Literally anywhere in the entire world.</div><div><br /></div><div>Except for the changing of the seasons, I abhor change.</div><div>Even when I moved from pre-school to elementary, elementary to middle, middle to high and high to university... they were all schools.</div><div>I've been going and doing and working and hating and loving and thinking about school for as long as I can remember and even though I am excited to be done...</div><div>I am also not.</div><div><br /></div><div>How can I just turn the school switch off?</div><div><i>Flick</i>. School no longer exists.</div><div><br /></div><div>And suddenly I am one of those seniors.</div><div>And I <i>do </i>own a rumpled plaid shirt and chic leather book bag to swing over my shoulder. I have glasses that are too big for my face because I think they're cool, and I am a pro at giving condescending looks to freshman when they ask for directions while still telling them exactly how to get to their next class.</div><div>When people say to me, "Oh have you had so-and-so as a professor?" I can say yes or no, and yet still give them satisfactory information on said professor either way.</div><div>Because I've <i>been</i> here.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have been here for years.</div><div>Three years.</div><div>I left home and never went back.</div><div><br /></div><div>And I did all my growing up here.</div><div>I became an adult (at least mostly). I figured out who I am. </div><div>I found the best friends I'd ever had in dorm rooms and the best friend I'll ever have in my husband.</div><div>I got married. and I found out (even more) who I am.</div><div>I started becoming (as Lana likes to call it) "The fullness of Becky" when I met my second half and became a whole person.</div><div>I found out what I wanted to do with my life. I realized what I love to do and that I am capable of doing it. </div><div>I started dressing myself in clothes that I liked because I liked them, and not because I wanted to portray a certain image or be like someone else.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, I've stopped trying to be like other people! That is a big deal!</div><div>Yes, I still look up to other people and try to develop in myself qualities I admire in them, but I've stopped blinking more than is usual because I saw someone do it and wanted to see how I felt about it.</div><div>I've stopped walking with the stupid posture that some girls in high school used to walk with, and which I mimicked because I was stupid too.</div><div>I've stopped buying clothes at Thrift stores because hip people do that and realized that (except under special circumstances) I <i>really</i> like clean, neatly folded clothes arranged by color and style and the DI is not that good of a deal for stained, pre-used clothes that I usually have to alter anyway.</div><div>I've stopped making up excuses for myself when people come over and I'm reading Winnie-the-Pooh or Harry Potter.</div><div>Because I love children's books.</div><div>That is all the excuse I need. </div><div><br /></div><div>No. It is not for a class.</div><div>It is not because I'm stupid and cannot read literature written for adults.</div><div>It's not because I feel the need to read what I want to write.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's because I love it.</div><div>And I've realized that even if I don't love grades, tardies, the testing center, or generals that I do not find pertinent to myself...</div><div><br /></div><div>I do love school.</div><div><br /></div><div>Although, don't expect me to admit to any such thing in a few weeks once classes start.</div><div>Because I do not love school <i>work</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>**Also, much of my thinking stemmed from <a href="http://ohjulieanna.blogspot.com/2010/08/crowded-on-velvet-cushion.html">this post from Julie.</a></div>Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-32945581472110665762010-08-19T08:26:00.000-07:002010-08-19T08:26:01.087-07:00Hasta la vista, babyI spend a great deal of time on Youtube.<br />But my friends and family are to blame.<br />Here are some new favorites.<br /><br />Double Rainbow:<br /><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OQSNhk5ICTI?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OQSNhk5ICTI?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="385" width="480"></embed></object><br />And, of course, the Double Rainbow song which is very catchy and can, of course, be purchased on iTunes:<br /><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/MX0D4oZwCsA?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/MX0D4oZwCsA?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="385" width="480"></embed></object><br /><br />Then Joe showed me the Zuiikin' English Aerobics girls.<br />This very educational show teaches English to the Japanese by repeating common English phrases while exercising.<br />The shows seemed to be laid out in two distinct ways. In one type of episode, a scenario is acted out and the phrases one should use is such a situation are taught.<br />For example, if you are alone in New York City...<br /><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1BrpZe8PUBI?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1BrpZe8PUBI?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="385" width="480"></embed></object><br />In the second type of episode a theme such as "Things to say on a date" is picked and the girls repeat important phrases like "You look sensational in that dress," or "I want us to be more than just friends."<br />Here's my favorite: (You cannot be blamed if you skip ahead between new phrases, but it becomes a catchy tune you want to sing everything to.)<br /><object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DGQZ49aBmBM?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DGQZ49aBmBM?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="385" width="640"></embed></object><br /><br />p.s. Do you love that <span style="font-style: italic;">Hasta la vista</span> is actually Spanish?Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-30894019749595065822010-08-18T15:17:00.000-07:002010-08-18T16:08:17.612-07:00Hallelujah<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_8990.jpg?t=1282170125"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 594px; height: 890px;" src="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_8990.jpg?t=1282170125" alt="" border="0" /></a>This is where I've been sitting.<br />In my doorway, where I can see, smell, hear, taste, and touch the rain. And yes, that is a pot of freshly made chocolate frosting with graham crackers next to it.<br />Why not indulge in some comfort food while feeling so <span style="font-style: italic;">comfortable</span>?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_8987.jpg?t=1282170069"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 569px; height: 379px;" src="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_8987.jpg?t=1282170069" alt="" border="0" /></a>This is the view of the sky from my doorway. And just below the sky is the view of my wet and pretty street. This pictures aren't exactly professional-photographer-worthy, right? They are for Travis who is at work and does not have a window.<br />But he does have a mac.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_8986.jpg?t=1282170069"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 578px; height: 385px;" src="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/_MG_8986.jpg?t=1282170069" alt="" border="0" /></a>Travis and I learned how to spell hallelujah on Sunday.<br />We both tried several times before looking it up in the Bible Dictionary and then we both practiced writing it in speech bubbles over the cartoon people drawn on the back of our church program.<br /><br /><br />If any type of weather deserves a hallelujah (correctly spelled), it is this gorgeous rain.<br />Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Praise ye the Lord!<br />Today is highly perfect.<br /><br />edit: This blogpost now has a part two:<br />PART TWO:<br />My computer does amazingly well choosing rainy day music.<br />Yes, it even chose Hallelujah, which was in fact why I decided to title my post by that name.<br />Here is the mix that it created and which I am listening to currently:<br /><img style="visibility: hidden; width: 0px; height: 0px;" src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bT*xJmx*PTEyODIxNzI4MTE4OTkmcHQ9MTI4MjE3MjgxODc*NCZwPTY5NDMwMSZkPSZnPTEmbz1mNDU3MTgzNmNmNDY*ZjQ1YTBl/MmNjMDJmYTE5NjYxZSZvZj*w.gif" border="0" height="0" width="0" /><div style="text-align: center; margin-left: auto; visibility: visible; margin-right: auto; width: 450px;"> <object height="270" width="435"> <param name="movie" value="http://www.musicplaylist.us/mc/mp3player_new.swf"> <param name="allowscriptaccess" value="never"> <param name="wmode" value="transparent"> <param name="flashvars" value="config=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.indimusic.us%2Fext%2Fpc%2Fconfig_regular_noautostart.xml&mywidth=435&myheight=270&playlist_url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.musicplaylist.us%2Fpl.php%3Fplaylist%3D80107213%26t%3D1282172811&wid=os"> <embed style="width: 435px; visibility: visible; height: 270px;" allowscriptaccess="never" src="http://www.musicplaylist.us/mc/mp3player_new.swf" flashvars="config=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.indimusic.us%2Fext%2Fpc%2Fconfig_regular_noautostart.xml&mywidth=435&myheight=270&playlist_url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.musicplaylist.us%2Fpl.php%3Fplaylist%3D80107213%26t%3D1282172811&wid=os" name="mp3player" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" border="0" height="270" width="435"></embed> </object><br /><a href="http://www.musicplaylist.us/"><img src="http://www.musicplaylist.us/mc/images/create_gray.jpg" alt="Get a playlist!" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://www.musicplaylist.us/playlist/20507446539/standalone" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.musicplaylist.us/mc/images/launch_gray.jpg" alt="Standalone player" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://www.musicplaylist.us/playlist/20507446539/download"><img src="http://www.musicplaylist.us/mc/images/get_gray.jpg" alt="Get Ringtones" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div> </div>Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-26176920729268419902010-08-17T11:30:00.000-07:002010-08-17T11:45:46.160-07:00Hand ModelI have been the voice in a few videos Travis has made.<br />I have even been featured entirely before.<br /><br />But this is the first time I have gotten to work as.....<br />A HAND MODEL!<br />Look at those chubby little hands.<br />Cute, right?<br /><br />Also, he still works as <a href="http://tippingbucket.org/">Tipping Bucket</a> movie maker.<br />So, you should hop on over to the Tipping Bucket and give them one dollar of your money.<br /><br /><iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/14201982" width="601" frameborder="0" height="338"></iframe><p><a href="http://vimeo.com/14201982">Build a Library in Malawi</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user973608">travispitcher</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</p>Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-54223750431775860032010-08-15T14:09:00.000-07:002010-08-15T14:25:32.615-07:00Feminism in the Pitcher house: like a sci-fi stripperToday after my hair was staticed to my forehead, I said "How do I look?"<div>And although I was fully dressed (and in church clothes, too!)</div><div><br /></div><div>Travis looked me over and said,</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b>"Hot. Like a striper. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b>From a sci-fi movie."</b></span></div><div><br /></div><div>A few minutes later he said "Don't put that on your blog."</div><div>"Too late," I said.</div><div>"You've already written it?"</div><div>"No, I've already planned what to write about it."</div><div>"Ahh," he said.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then he said "All I wanted was to make you feel sexy even though your hair was crazy and stupid. I'm just trying to empower my wife. But, it seems I have empowered her too much. Since she will not even respect my wishes."</div><div><br /></div><div>Then when I read this aloud he said "That's a pretty good blog post."</div><div><br /></div><div>Then he suggested my title.</div><div>Then he said not to write it, but I did.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>Everything I've written here is true.</div></div><div><br /></div>Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-69663803079894330942010-08-14T13:39:00.000-07:002010-08-14T21:07:59.777-07:00from scratch<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/IMG_9354.jpg?t=1281472739"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 632px; height: 421px;" src="http://i878.photobucket.com/albums/ab344/rebeccahlouise/IMG_9354.jpg?t=1281472739" alt="" border="0" /></a>Before Travis and I were married he believed me to be a terrible, terrible cook.<br />Which I am not. I'm actually quite good.<br /><br />In his defense, in all the time we were dating I had only made him two dinners and one plum cake.<br />All of which were terrible failures.<br />The food tasted, looked and <span style="font-style: italic;">was </span>terrible, so it was alright to assume I was a terrible cook.<br /><br />In MY defense, I had no kitchen, no money for actual groceries, no supplies like spices, flavorings, or sauces except for soy sauce (and I used Soy Sauce for all it was worth) and I had none of the beautiful pots, pans or utensils that I got when we were married.<br />All I had was one scraped up and very horrible pot and a rice cooker that only half-cooked rice.<br /><br />So most of the food was either frozen or just-add-water before I tried to turn it in to a meal.<br />Just like any unmarried college-student though.<br />Stop with those accusing looks.<br /><br />There were some things I had <span style="font-style: italic;">down </span>when we got married and that I could make amazingly well even before I had my own kitchen.<br />Chocolate cake, chocolate chip cookies, and fruit pies among them.<br /><br />Okay, so mostly desserts.<br />But there was one dessert that I was not an expert at making and had, in fact, never even had homemade.<br />Snickerdoodles.<br />Snickerdoodles were not a homemade cookie. Snickerdoodles were bought on occasion from bookstore cafes.<br /><br />If one wanted to make snickerdoodles then one would merely roll sugar cookies in cinnamon/sugar. Duh.<br /><br />Travis LOVES snickerdoodles. And somehow (amazingly) he can tell whether or not I've added that one little teaspoon of powder that makes snickerdoodles different from sugar cookies. Cream of Tarter, which when we were newly married I usually just skipped and didn't notice the loss.<br />But Travis did.<br /><br />So I persevered. And I made snickerdoodles all the time.<br />And now, I can announce to the world that I, Becky Pitcher, am the baker of awesome, awesome snickerdoodles.<br />The recipe I use is <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2009/09/snickerdoodles/">here</a>, but I admit that it took me several times to get it down perfectly.<br />It probably will not take you so long if you actually use cream of tarter, actually chill the dough, actually cook it for the correct amount of time, actually roll it in LOTS of sugar and cinnamon.<br /><br />But I am very proud.<br />It caused someone to recently exclaim "Oh wow, these are good! Are these from scratch?"<br /><br />And I literally stared at her for about 30 seconds while the phrase "From Scratch" did not ring any bells.<br />Of course my food is from scratch.<br />Are there other ways to make food?<br />My mind went around and around and when I finally mumbled "Yes" she had moved on. It took me too long to respond.<br /><br />Oh! How quickly the mind forgets.<br />Just a year ago, I ate nothing "from scratch" and if I did I would lay afterward in a food coma, thinking about delicious it was and how much I missed my mother with her full kitchen and food-stained cookbook and excellent baking abilities.<br /><br />Now I am trying to be that. A woman with a full kitchen, dozens of well-used and food stained cookbooks and excellent baking abilities.<br />And I'm already forgetting I was ever anything else.Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7986034907024717166.post-4433724288419114902010-08-13T09:30:00.000-07:002010-08-13T09:30:00.470-07:00ChillyChilly is my favorite weather.<br /><br />Chilly is fall. Chilly is sweaters. Chilly is new pencils. Chilly is Halloween Costumes. Chilly is ginger tea on the couch with Travis while watching a movie.<br /><br />Chilly weather.<br /><br />It is August, and <span style="font-style: italic;">they </span>(the nameless masses) say the end of August is the hottest part of summer. <span style="font-style: italic;">They </span>claim that summer is not yet over.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">They </span>hold on, planning days at the lake, eating numerous hot dogs, saying "we've got a few more months; plant some seeds in your brand new and very beautiful planter box."<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I </span>claim summer is ending.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I </span>comfortably wore a cardigan to church on Sunday.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I </span>saw Halloween things on sale on Monday and nearly wet myself with excitement, and have starting using a blanket at night again, and have been wanting to knit and wanting to bake warm bean soup and wear my pretty new scarf.<br /><br />Maybe it's all the rain that's confusing me. It's making it cold outside.<br />And maybe its the love of all things summery that's confusing everyone else.<br /><br />But chilly is my favorite weather, and cold is just after it in the list. Warm is next but HOT is dead last.<br />I hate the heat.<br />I abhor it.<br /><br />And I don't mind if summer's ending early as long as it means we've got a nice long fall ahead of us.<br />Mmmmm, fall.<br />I do love fall.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />p.s.<br />This is unrelated. But check out the funny<a href="http://froelichfamily.blogspot.com/2010/08/kathryn-at-yellowstone.html"> video of my five-year old sister</a> in Yellowstone.<br />So cute. Oh, AND she's wearing a sweatshirt. Must be chilly. :)Becky Pitcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18125808612297417061noreply@blogger.com2