Friends who inspire

My dad advised me to surround myself with "friends who inspire."

Recently I've been fortunate to have some of that.

One instance probably exemplifies that more to me than they realize.

Sunday. San Diego. Church sacrament meeting in a single's ward.

Allow me to set up the scene for you. It was ward conference this particular Sunday, which generally means more people come to the ward to support the speakers, as well as more church leaders come sit on the stands to give messages and supervise the meeting.

My particular group of friends summed up to be about 6 people, and though 5 of the 6 of us were visitors for the weekend, we sat near the front and center of the congregation. The bishop of the ward conducted the meeting.

Somewhere before announcing the opening hymn, he announced, "Our organist has not shown up. If there is anyone here who could play the organ for us today, we would greatly appreciate it if you would come up."

Suddenly, I felt every head to my left turn to look at me. I could feel my shoulders tense up with all the sudden attention.

"Tiffany, go! Go up and tell him!" I heard as several arms it seemed either waved me on or dug into my side, nudging me to get up. (One of them even started untying his shoes so I would have socks to play the organ with!! Bless his soul. Celestial Kingdom for him.)

Before I could give myself time to think, I was on my feet which carried me numbly up the isle and towards the bishop's place on the stand. It was easy for me to block out the fact that the ward was probably watching me, a complete stranger in a bright red dress and flip flops, making my way up to the stand. [I've had too much practice blocking out uncomfortable situations from consciousness.]

Crouching down at the bishop's feet, I whispered to him, "If you're looking for an organist, I can play."

"Yes!" responded the bishop, "Would you like the program?"

I took the program, then sidestepped my way over to the organ, slipped off my flip flops, and began to set the stops for the sound I wanted. Just as I finished, I heard them announce at the pulpit that I would be playing today..."Sister...?What is your name?"

I looked up and drew a blank. It shouldn't have been so complicated! All they wanted to know was my NAME. I'm pretty sure I've been asked that question before and been able to respond successfully. But, this time, I wasn't sure whether to answer, "Tiffany," or "Sister F..." My last name was more appropriate. But no, it's too complicated. Uhh..I'll stick with Tiffany!

I must've looked like a fool, but after a deer-in-the-headlights pause to a rather trivial question, I finally stammered out my first name.

Then I took a seat.

Crap.

Just as I did, the REAL organist showed up to take her place. Could she have just humored me and let me play? Please?!

I was already up on the stand, barefooted, name announced. Now I wouldn't even be playing after all? Aiyaiyai. But, like I implied, I'm well practiced in being able to make awkward things seem less awkward by pretending it's not awkward at all! Most of the time it makes me feel better even if it doesn't always work.

So! What do I do?

Make small talk with the gal. ..How long has she been playing. What kind of stops I preset for her. How wonderful it is that she's a ward organist and that she should keep it up...You know, anything to make it seem like we're suddenly best friends and her arrival was exactly what I was hoping would happen.

She was actually pretty nice, and young, and chill.

But now I didn't know what to do! The meeting was carrying on, and I didn't want to make another scene in order to sit back down with my friends.

Sooooooo.....

I had a brilliant solution!! A stroke of genius from the heavens.

I would wait for the choir to come up, and I would join them in their special musical number! Beautiful; couldn't have planned that better myself. So I waited for the moment. When it was time, I stood and blended my way right into the middle of the women's section.

I don't think anyone would've even noticed, except for the fact that there was a total of 6 women in the choir. 0_0

I quickly prodded the lady to my right so she could explain the arrangement of the song to me seconds before we would perform...At least it was from a hymn I'd heard before and loved. And, I'd been in church choirs before so, no biggie right? I smiled even bigger, hoping that by looking the part, no one would question my presence there among them.

When the music was over, I slapped the hymnal down on an empty seat and scurried my way down as the rest of the choir walked back to their spots in the crowd. Finally! I was once again with my friends, who I had successfully managed to impress with my self-invited choir performance skills.

What a time!! What. a. time.
You know, I think it was all meant to be that way though. It helped me realize that:
1) I can choose to act right away when someone asks for help that I can give, or choose to sit there and do nothing.
2) I know the people I call friends are good ones when they encourage me to share my talents and don't even question that I'll do it well.
3) Any situation can turn out to be a good experience, even if it isn't smooth as butter.
4) And always always ALWAYS carry an extra pair of socks in your purse. You never know when you'll need it.

I think the best part was when the choir director lead the music while whispering cues to me throughout the song so I could follow the arrangement with them. Or when one of the choir men whispered, "Thank you so much," with as much gratitude as I'd ever heard as he took his place on the stand.

I'm grateful for such unique opportunities, for good people who are encouraging and supportive, and for simple moments that can both make me chuckle, slap my forehead, and feel blessed all at the same time.

Especially right now, I am also so grateful to be able to live up to my dad's advice.

Mexican horses

President's Day weekend. February 18, 2017. Saturday.

Ariah wanted to take a trip to San Diego and Mexico for our long President's Day weekend. Saturday would be the chosen day for a blissfully cultural experience in the territory of Mexico, only minutes away from CA.

We heard of Rosarito Beach 1 hr into MX, where we would be able to ride horses along the beach -- 30 min for a great price! So worth it!

My horse was named Apaluso, whereas the others had more common names like Estrella for example. This will be an important detail as to the uniqueness of my horsie as you will see.

They were SO well trained, knowing exactly what route to take along the soft shore of the beach, when to speed up and when to slow down. I mean, really, if I tried to control my own horse it completely ignored me and only obeyed the command of the lead horse or vaquero guide. Even when I slid off the saddle a little and shreaked to make it slow down, the horse stopped not, and my only chance was holding on for dear life and pulling myself back onto the center.

After 15 minutes, we had already made it up and back with time to spare, so we got a picture or two:

And with time to spare, we went for ROUND II BABY.

But, this time was different. Apaluso and another horse began walking so close that my and Alissa's legs began kneading uncomfortably into each others. "Haha that was funny," it started. Then, "...Ouch!....Why are we so close?! ...That hurts!..." Would we even have legs come tomorrow? I already couldn't feel my rump, so if you don't mind, I'd rather keep the feeling in my legs if that's alright with you Apalu'.

Apaluso must've understood, I was speaking to him in Spanish after all. So instead he decided to rear the other horse and trail him closely instead. I could handle that.

"What's wrong horse?!"

I didn't understand why Apaluso tilted his head back and brayed, almost darkly. Was he upset?

Before I knew it, I was living a scene from Hidalgo or Zorro or something. I couldn't quite remember; it all happened so fast. As Apaluso's front hooves kicked upward toward the sky, I could feel my center of gravity shift forward drastically. Every muscle in my body turned stark RIGID. I think the only part of me that had any movement left were my vocal cords, as they let out the majestic trill of bloody murder...

My horse.....oh boy. My horse.....
Jumped onto the back of Alissa's. And stayed.
It was horrifying.

I'm sure I would've noticed Alissa's warbly screams too if I hadn't have been so preoccupied with my own circumstance, or perhaps if she hadn't have lost her voice the day before.

Forgive me, Alissa, but this video snippet helps prove my point. Plus...you're voiceless singing is priceless and deserves far more attention hahaha.

Anyhow, as I contemplated my life decisions in that moment of helplessness, I remember looking up and peering into the faces of my friends in the distance, each of whom had stopped and turned curiously to face the sounds of hysteric and warbly screams. In that instant I knew, if I could simply hold on, and if Alissa could ward off the hooves around her waist and horse head at her side, we would probably come to be known as the sole survivors of riding horses in their sacred moment of making horse babies. 

Needless to say, it didn't take long for Mr. Vaqueroman to catch up to us and lead my horse in severe silence back to the rest of the stud. It was quite the ride, I'd say.

To end this experience on a strong note, I'd like to share a few very important things learned that day:

1) I should join a rodeo. I'd dare a bull to buck me off after this.

2) Alissa loves her camera more than her own life, which I believe can attest to some degree of passion she may have for photography.

And 3) Beware the signs.

So in the end, Mexico did not disappoint!

I mean, I thought the thrill would be in eating tacos and elote from street vendors. Or figuring out how many pesos really equals a dollar. Or snapping pictures at ancient Mexican cathedrals. Or even in window shopping along the busy streets of Tijuana!

But, since I can't remember the last time my life has fallen short of a weird story, I'm starting to realize: it just wouldn't be me without one.


Best of wishes to Mr. and Mrs. Apaluso! May the beaches of Rosarito ever find you together. <3 p="">

Versed in the art of hip

My roommates tell me that, under different circumstances, I was destined to be 100% hippie.

Is it because of my blonde-tipped, unkempt hair?
Or the fact that my clothes hardly make sense?
Is it because I tend to fall asleep upside down or in other unusual positions?
Or simply because my life is transient.

Would these things make me seem hippie-ish to you?

I don't know, but even my mom called me her "little gypsy" once.

I just have one question for you: If I was what they think, would I be doing THIS