Grandpa Sheranian

In the corner of the den in my grandparents house is a big, comfortable recliner. It sits in front of the sliding glass door that looks out onto the backyard. Next to it is an end table with a lamp, a telephone, and a pad of paper and pencil to take messages. On the other side is a small wooden piece of furniture about the size of a moving box that is designed to hold magazines. In it you can find Newsweek, Time, National Geographic, Car and Driver, Consumer Reports, the AAA Magazine, the LA Times Magazine, and the Reader’s Digest. You can usually find a few Louis L’Amour books shoved in there too.

The recliner has changed over time—but the one constant is its occupant: my Grandpa Sheranian. Most of my memories of Grandpa come from moments while he was sitting in that chair. Memories of him grabbing me, pinning my arms behind my back, and tickling me until I begged, “Mercy! Mercy!” Memories of coming over for Sunday dinner and watching episode after episode of “I Love Lucy” because grandpa willingly changed the channel from the game when we came over. Memories of finding grandpa comfortably reclining flipping through a magazine or reading a good western.

Even now when I call the house, the phone usually doesn’t ring more than twice because Grandpa is right there to pick it up. And when I talk to him, I can see him in my mind, sitting just right where he should be.

World Traveler Ruins Her Life by Buying a Home!

Julie Hatten*, a travel fanatic, usually can’t go 6 months without taking a trip. From Guatemala to Europe, this girl is determined to conquer the world. Planned or spontaneous, with friends or alone. Hatten doesn’t miss any opportunities. So, this year when the chance to buy $500 tickets to New Zealand came up, she bought them that day. And this impulsiveness has become the fuel of her life.

But life is about to change—for the worse. Hatten is buying a house. Most people look forward to settling down, painting the living room their favorite color, growing a vegetable garden. But for Hatten, it means the mortgage fly swatter has taken a whack at her travel bug.

No more rocking out to “I Want to Know What Love Is” alone on the beach in Cancun. No more Parisian sunsets. No more fresh, island fruit. No, for Hatten, she will enjoy a stable life in Idaho Falls and try not to ruin her life.

*Name has been changed.

Many Shades of Chocolate

Chocolate—considered a candy by some, a food group by others—is by far the most sophisticated sweet. With a history that goes back to 16^th century Spanish explorers, it has been refined to perfection. However, not all chocolate is equal.

About a year ago, a close friend who knew that I was a chocolate purest—the higher cocoa content the better—invited me to a “chocolate tasting party.” For $10 we could taste the finest chocolate in the world and hear a lecture about it. We arrived at the small home in Springville where the host, an engineer and chocolate connoisseur, invited us into his cozy living room. He passed out white sheets of paper that listed the names of about 12 different chocolates, and water and French bread to cleanse the palette between each taste.

First a lesson on chocolate tasting. The first step before you even put the chocolate in your mouth is to look at it. Notice the luster and color of the chocolate. Next, you smell it. This helps improve your ability to taste the chocolate once in your mouth. Then, you eat the chocolate slowly, allowing it to melt in your mouth, paying attention to smoothness, initial taste, after taste. After each taste, we took notes on our reaction and the flavors we noticed and then discussed our experience. It was like a book club about chocolate.

I had never experienced anything like it. Chocolate from Madagascar to Venezuela. Chocolate that hinted of fruit. Chocolate with the savor of the rich soil from which it came. Chocolate with a different taste for every second in your mouth. Then, after tasting about 5 chocolates from the finest cocoa fields in the world, we each had a piece of regular milk chocolate Dove candy. The difference was shocking: the taste of gasoline with an undertone of peanut butter. Yes, no two chocolates are alike.

Central Utah Writing Project

Today I started CUWP, and I love it already!! The truth is, I love to write, but don't do it much unless I'm forced to. And one of the other things I love is good food, and there was certainly pleanty of that--- breakfast AND lunch from Flower Girls and Dough Boys-- my favorite bakery/ sandwich shop. What could be better?

So, over the next four weeks, I will post the prompts that I write during the course. I hope you will enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them!

California Home

Simi Valley is a quiet suburb in Ventura County, California. It's a unique city in Southern California because it is physically seperated from the other cities by hills on all sides so it has a distinct identity from other ciities. The hills are usually a yellow brown, but after a week of good rain they turn bright green--giving it a 3 week Irish makeover. Although the town is only a generation or two old (most of the tracks were built in the 70s), the people seem to stay. Most are middle class, but there are middle class move-ins that have bought homes up in the hills.

Even though the city has a population of about 120,000, when I moved to Simi, it seemed like a small town. Coming from LA, it was amazing to ALWAYS find a parking spot, to see the stars at night, and to (shockingly to me) run into people I knew at the grocery store.

"Welcome to Simi Valley. Relax and slow down," the sign says as you pull off the freeway. That pretty much sums it up.

My Mom

I meant to do this as a special tribute on Mother's Day, but I only got as far as uploading her picture. My mom is amazing! She has dedicated her whole life to raising her children and helping the community. Really I don't know where to even begin in praise of her. All I can say is that if every mother did her job like my mom, the world would not have any problems. I love you, Mom!

My Grandmas

I also want to pay tribute to the other moms in my life. My Grandma O is such a great mentor and friend to me. I'm so lucky to live so close to her and to work even closer. I usually get to visit a couple times a week. She always has food, family history facts, the update on world events, and the latest health research to share with us. I love her! This is a picture of her with my cousin, Naomi.


My Grandma Sheranian is my namesake and kindred spirit. My mom has always said I'm just like her. And pictures prove it. This is a picture of her in Hawaii on her honeymoon with my Grandpa in 1958. I was so lucky to grow up living right next door to Grandma Sheranian. I sat next to her in Church, ate at her table every Sunday, and learned from watching her serve. I love her!


I'm so lucky to have good, strong, faithful women in my life!

Screaming and Stomping for Speed Skating

I am very excited for the Olympics this year because it is the first time I can remember having a TV during the Olympics! I caught bits and pieces of the 2008 summer Olympics in a hotel room in Hawaii, I didn't see the one in 2006 because I was on my mission, and in 2004 . . . I don't even remember where it was or what I was doing! For 2002, I was in Washington D.C. on vacation with my mom and Becca and Maureen, and we watched it on TV every night. So really the only time I've been able to watch the Olympics is on vacation!

Well this year I watched most of the opening ceremonies (Did you notice how the commentators were silent as Iran entered the stadium?. . . but not for North Korea?) and my friends and I watched the main events on Saturday night. The highlight of course was the 1500 with Apolo Ono. I was worried w might have disturbed our neighbors underneath us, because we couldn't handle the suspense. Just picture 5 girls screaming and stomping to the finish line. Worse than the Superbowl!

Make the Call!

So I learned a big lesson today: making a phone call does not hurt. If you think it might help- do it! This seems obvious, but I think a lot of times we avoid simple tasks for silly reasons. . . and then answer the consequences.

For example, over a year ago, I was driving home from my Christmas vacation to California when the back light on the faceplate of my car's sound system went out. I looked up the problem online and read a message board with lots of posts from people with my same car (year, make, and model) who had the same problem. A lot of posts were years old, but they wrote about how they had to pay $400 + to get their systems replaced. I figured it wasn't worth it to me to pay that much to fix a luxury feature my car. I could still listen to music; I just couldn't see my clock or radio stations unless the afternoon sun hit it just right.

My dad said I should call the dealership, but I really don't like dealerships (or at least I had unfriendly feelings at that time) and didn't think it would do any good. So I didn't call. Instead I had a friend check my fuses just in case-- and no problem was found. So since then I have just dealt with the problem and figured I wouldn't worry about it.

Then, last week my battery died--completely died. Luckily, my good friend Bryce not only tested it for me, but also bought a new battery at a discount AND installed it for me! Yay! However, a few days later when I tried to turn on my radio, it didn't work and I could see that it showed "CODE" on the screen. It turns out my sound system has an anti-theft mechanism that is enabled if it is disconnected from the battery.

Long story short, I called the dealership to get the code, which they gladly gave me (not what I was expecting-- ha ha!). I then took the opportunity to ask about my backlight problem. And voila! the guy on the phone told me that the problem is under warranty because there is a factory recall on the part!!

Now I have an appointment on Monday to get it fixed for FREE. No money to end a problem I've been dealing with for over a year! I wonder what other problems I've been avoiding in my life that have easy solutions? Really, it's not worth it to deal with something when it can be fixed!

Reflections on Life

With the earthquake in Haiti, I've been thinking a lot about how life on earth is so different depending on where you are born. Some people seem to live through unending tragedy and suffering, while others live lives of comfort and opportunity. Of course there are challenges in life no matter where you live--and there is plenty of suffering (particularly emotional suffering) even in my own community. But I've been wondering about what it will be like when this life is over and we all have time to talk about what happened. What will I say to a woman who never learned how to read, who lost child after child because of poor living conditions and lack of medical help, who lived in fear of her violent community? Will I be uncomfortable talking about my life? Will I feel embarrassed even though I had as little control over where I was born as she did?

Inequality has always been somewhat troubling to me. I have never liked the statement "Life's not fair," even though I know to a certain extent this is true. I'm the type of person who thinks that if you chew a piece of gum, you should offer a piece to everyone around you. If you have a party, you need to invite everyone you know. This is a very superficial definition of equality, but you know what I mean. If I were calling the shots, I would want everyone in the world to have a comfortable place to live, a loving family, a great education, and the chance to develop a talent. . . every blessing I have. But I know that's not the point. If we were handed everything, there would be nothing to work for, nothing to learn. The truth is, I would want everyone to have the opportunity to create happy, successful lives for themselves.

In my class, we're talking about themes in literature that center around "the human spirit" and the potential for individuals to rise above their circumstances and achieve the impossible. This is in preparation to read a play based on The Diary of Anne Frank. And although Anne did not survive, she still did acheive the seemingly impossible--as a 14-year-old, recording a very personal witness of the holocaust for the world to read. And perhaps the even more impossible-- maintaining hope and life through her months and months of hiding.

Recently I also read a passage in the Book of Mormon which had new meaning for me. Two verses from Jacob 5, which is part of an allegory about a master (Jesus Christ) and servant (prophet or follower of Christ) who are grafting trees (groups of people): "And it came to pass that the servant said unto his master: How comest thou hither to plant this tree, or this branch of the tree? For behold, it was the poorest spot in all the land of thy vineyard. And the Lord of the vineyard said unto him: Counsel me not; I knew that it was a poor spot of ground; wherefore, I said unto thee, I have nourished it this long time, and thou beholdest that it hath brought forth much fruit"
(Jacob 5: 21-22).

What I learn from this scripture is that God knows that some of His children are born in "poor spots " of the world. But that does not mean he does not love these less. Quite the contrary; He "nourishes" and remembers and cares for these people even more. And he knows that they, just like everyone else, have the ability to grow, love, and do good with their lives.

So, maybe it doesn't matter where we are born after all. Life really is different for each of us. And life truly is harder for some. But God loves us all, and hopes that whatever our lot in life, we will choose to do good with what we have. And for those of us with more, the task is ours to do more.