Does Fort Worth Ever Cross Your Mind?

THERE IS A NEW POST UNDERNEATH THIS POST!

One of the things I love about Texas is how many of its cities are featured in country songs. A few that come to mind immediately are:

"Dallas" by Alan Jackson

"How a Cowgirl Says Goodbye" where Tracy Lawrence mentions Abilene and Last Chance. He also mentions Amarillo in the song "Texas Tornado."

"All My Exes Live in Texas," by George Strait, where he references Texarkana, Abilene, Galveston, and Temple.

"Lubbock or Leave it," which is a song by the Dixie Chicks that never actually says the name Lubbock, but paints an unmistakably unflattering picture of it nonetheless. There's also one called "Texas in the Rearview Mirror," by Mac Davis, which also portrays Lubbock in a bad light, but calls it by name.

"Does Fort Worth Ever Cross Your Mind?" also by George Strait. Incidentally, George Strait sings about Texas often. He has another song called "Texas" in which he makes reference to the Cowboys, Willie Nelson, and other Texas cities, including Fort Worth and the song that he recorded decades earlier.

What's the point? Tonight, after my 6:00 violence group didn't show, I headed to Fort Worth for the Texas Association of Marriage and Family Therapy's annual conference. 

Some thoughts as I was driving:

• Why are there so many Spanish and country radio stations in this state?
• I'm really glad every small town in Texas has a Dairy Queen. It's nice to be able to count on things.
• What if you named all of your children after cities in Texas? In addition to the big ones working fairly well (Austin, Houston, Dallas) some of these small towns might make good names too: Jermyn, Vera, Jacksboro (some are better than others).
• Should I stop eating all this trail mix?
• I wonder what that roadkill used to be.

I am pleased to report that I made it to the Fort Worth Microtel Inn Suites safely, only to get lip from the desk clerk for not looking old enough to book a hotel room.

Typically, when I go to conferences, I do not spend a lot of time at the sessions. However, this time around, two of the biggest names in my field came to present at our conference. On Thursday, it was Monica McGoldrick, and on Friday and Saturday, it was Sue Johnson. I realize that five of the six of you do not know/care about these people. The name dropping is for Ami. They were great! Not only that, but TAMFT provided lunch both days, so I didn't do what I usually do, which is leave for lunch and sneak back in late/go up to my room and take a nap/explore whatever city I am in.

Hence, I have not gone off to explore Fort Worth, which is known for its stockyards. I have had dinner at two local restaurants.

The first was a sushi restaurant because I am always on a quest for good sushi when I leave Lubbock, which, as I have mentioned ad nauseum, has no good sushi. My last three sushi experiences have looked something like this:

• Sushi from the grocery store that Layne picked up for me one night-nice gesture, mediocre sushi.
• Sushi from a combination sushi bar/teppanyaki place. Mostly rolls. Too artsy to be authentic, although they have a tempura roll that is pretty good.
• And the restaurant in Fort Worth. Why did I think ordering raw fish in a city known for its beef was a good idea? I think my thought process went along the lines of, any place has to be better than Lubbock, right? Wrong. The restaurant was called Avocado, which should have been a tipoff right there. Obviously, the owner of the restaurant has a warped sense of what is important at a sushi restaurant. It was pretty much downhill from there. Their menu consisted primarily of rolls, some with American cheese, some with chicken. They had a few options as far as sashimi or nigiri, and some sort of a bento. I couldn't get a straight answer as to what was in it, though. I ordered one artsy roll and one spicy tuna roll. I can't prove the "spicy" in the tuna was Tabasco, but I can say that the tuna was the worst piece of raw fish I have ever tasted in my life. I managed to finish about half of it before I had to wave the white dishtowel. They had mochi ice cream, but I decided to cut my losses, and I got a mini-cup of Ben and Jerry's from the grocery store to kill the taste of the tuna.

Tonight, I learned my lesson. Rather than trying out another ethnic cuisine whose population is not represented well in this state, I opted for barbeque brisket. Stick with what you know, Texas. I was not disappointed. Great brisket, great fries. I got lip from the guys working the counter for my t-shirt, which reads, "I am a marriage and family therapist...so, how does that make you feel?" The guys asked if I was married, and then mocked me because I'm not. It seems to be a theme here in Fort Worth. I didn't get enough ketchup, or a fork for my baked beans, but it was exponentially better than last night's dinner.

I would like to say I enjoyed the Fort Worth nightlife, but, instead, I spent the night in my jammies looking at cakewrecks. 

The next morning, I skipped the last session and drove home. On the way home, three things of note happened:

• I had to go to the bathroom and drove 60 miles to find one.
  
• I got pulled over.
• I discovered an Elvis store in Jacksboro.

You may wonder why I got so excited about an Elvis store in Texas, when I just visited Memphis three months ago. But, as it turns out, this is the largest Elvis-only store outside of Memphis, and the only Elvis-only store in the entire state of Texas.

 In addition, the proprietor is an Elvis impersonator. This is his costume on display. The proprietress was one of the friendliest people I have ever met. The woman who was running the Elvis store across the street from Graceland wasn't nearly as friendly. You could argue it's because she wasn't a Texan. The proprietress, whose name I cannot remember, but I remember thinking it sounded very west Texas, gave me several business cards and fliers to give to friends. I'm pretty sure that Stephanie and I will be making a trip to Jacksboro before she leaves Texas. All in all, not a bad weekend. Except for the whole traffic ticket thing.

What I like about Seattle

I am starting to accumulate posts that I have written but not finished, while I am posting other things. However, I have noticed that Blogger posts things based on the dates when they were started, so those of you who check my blog, make sure you scroll down to see if there are some exciting and fun posts you haven't already looked at. There probably won't be, but you never know.

In the meantime, I wanted to pay tribute to Seattle. In discussions about favorite cities in the US, I always come back to Seattle. Here's why:

• I love the rain.
• It is the perfect place to get good Asian food because a) there are Asian people there who know what it's supposed to taste like, and b) they have great fish. When you got to an Asian market, it is the size of a regular supermarket, and none of the food looks like it has expired.
• They have 3 MFT programs between Seattle and Tacoma.
• There's a temple in Bellevue. When you come back to Seattle from Bellevue, you can drive across Lake Washington on a floating bridge. At sunset, it's about the most beautiful thing in the world.
• It has essential retail like IKEA and Trader Joe's, as well as tons of funky independent retailers.
• You are automatically cooler for living there, as opposed to some places where I may or may not be currently living.
• It is a good size for a city. It's large enough to support things like an IKEA, but small enough so that it has its own personality. And its public transportation is pretty good.
• It's known for being sort of an artsy town, with places like Pike's Place and Fremont (where the big troll is). In addition, I have recently discovered that they love kitsch. Here is a link to the Official Bad Art Museum of Art. Irony and redundancy. Redundant and ironic.
• It's got mountains, trees, and ocean, all of which make for some incredible nature experiences.
• There are tons of places to take people to when they come to visit, like the Experience Music Project and the Science Fiction Hall of Fame.
• The skyline is beautiful (see above).
• It is only a couple of hours from Vancouver, which has a hockey team.
• It has been the setting for many recent movies and TV shows. Oddly, on TV, Patrick Dempsey is a surgeon in Seattle, but I saw him in a Seattle-based movie where he worked at a bagel shop.
• Ichiro (see below).

Things I do not like about Seattle

• There are times when rain is inconvenient, like when there's an outdoor food festival, and Seattle doesn't seem to care about that.
• Things are pretty expensive there.
• Their MFT jobs are not the highest-paying jobs in the country, which, considering the previous bullet point, would make it difficult for me to live there.
• It is widely acknowledged that Seattle is having some hard times with its sports teams, despite being home to an NBA (for now), an NFL, and an MLB team.
• In some pockets, if your political views are not somewhat liberal, you may be mocked. However, I would guess it's probably not much worse than if your views are not conservative and you live in west Texas.
• There's no professional hockey team in Seattle. However, Vancouver is not that far away, and it's still a better place for hockey than Lubbock.

Things other people do not like about Seattle:

• Its traffic is bad (hence the good public transportation).
• The University of Washington is apparently not very pretty (what kind of a man cares about that?).
• In the wintertime, it gets kind of foggy (but summers are amazing!).
• It can be hard to find restaurants around the University of Washington campus.
• There was a freak earthquake there a couple of nights ago. It was very minor. No one died.

All in all, I think the good outweighs the bad. Sadly, I don't live in Seattle, so it doesn't really matter. I live in Lubbock, which is a subject for another post.

Pinewood Derby

Yesterday, I walked into the Boy Scouts of South Plains office and told them I wanted 18 pinewood derby kits. They were all out, so I prepaid for them to hold me 18 kits from the order they were expecting the next day. When the woman asked which troop I was from, and I told her I wasn't from a troop, I'm sure she was wondering what was going on, just as I'm sure all five of the people who read my blog are wondering what was going on.

In one of our more productive meetings to decide what to do for the monthly combined branch FHE, Layne suggested we sponsor an event he called "Chilianapolis 500." Many years ago, he was the Elder's Quorum President in the branch, and this was an activity they did, which combined a pinewood derby with a chili cookoff. He boasted that there were no women invited, and then added that, with that many guys eating chili, they probably wouldn't have wanted to come anyway. However, he has since decided that it is an acceptable co-ed activity, and I agree. Two weeks from yesterday will be the first co-ed Chilianapolis 500.

We will have two categories, one for people who follow the rules, and one for people who want to attach rocket boosters to their cars. Having virtually no engineering experience, I am entering my car in the first category. This blog post will be a step-by-step documentation of my experience. Brace yourselves.

Sunday, January 25-I call Dad to get his suggestions for making a car. I estimate that, in addition to pinewood derbies he may have participated in as a child, he has done somewhere around 8, between Shane, Danny, and the years he was a scout leader. He gives me some fairly sketchy tips that involve hooking the wheels up to a drill and shaving them down with a knife.

Monday, January 26-I poll the men in my program who have participated in pinewood derbies. One guy described emotional scars associated with the experience, while another shows me a physical scar caused by his brother stabbing him with a pocket knife. I begin to wonder if it is a bad idea to do a pinewood derby, but I remind myself that the people in my branch are, for the most part, adults, who can handle disappointment and won't take this competition too seriously. Later that night, I talk to my dad again, and he tells me that he would be willing to make my car himself (or just shave some wheels down) and send it to me.

Tuesday, January 27-I finally obtain my kit, along with $40 worth of equipment, including the Swiss Army Knife pictured above. 

Tangent about Swiss Army Knives-I used to have one when I was in junior high, and I really liked it. I also remember visiting the store that sold them in the mall, thinking that the ones that had 27 gadgets were really cool. Now I think they probably didn't fit that well in anyone's pocket.

There was a snowstorm in Lubbock, which meant I cancelled my sessions to keep my clients from driving on icy roads. It also meant that I could spend some time working on my car, which, without power tools, meant lots of whittling. Originally, I wanted to make an El Camino, but, after whittling through an episode of Gilmore Girls and two episodes of Scrubs, I decided I'd be happy if it didn't look like a block of wood anymore. I now pause to note that Layne just picked up the remainder of the kits to distribute while I am in Ft. Worth for a therapy conference. On his way out, he said, "I want to make an El Camino." Now, I'm trying to remember if I gave him the idea, or if we just think that much alike.

Here was how my car looked after a day.

Wednesday-I went to Ft. Worth. I was there Thursday, Friday, and Saturday and did not work on my car at all until...

Sunday, February 1-Mostly, I just worked on making it flat.

Monday, February 2-More flattening. There are two schools of thought on a pinewood derby car I am discovering. There are the people who want their car to look good, and the people who want to win. A good-looking car is usually not an aerodynamic car, and a winning car is usually not very stylish. I won't lie-I want to win. My strategy is as follows:

• Make the car as flat as possible.


• Attach weights to the bottom.


• Shave the wheels if there is time.

The Dave Oka School of Pinewood Derbies offers these additional suggestions (which, according to the box are all legal) that I was unable to try:

• Putty over the original grooves cut for the axles in the back and cut new ones closer to the bumper.


• Attach the wheel to a drill chuck and, while it rotates on the drill, shave it carefully and precisely with a pocket knife, creating a narrower surface area for the wheel to contact the track. Hang onto these wheels for future pinewood derbies with younger sons.


• Drill holes in the bottom of the car, (one inch from the back axles) and fill the holes with melted lead from fishing sinkers.

Tuesday, February 3-I went to the store to purchase weights and paint for my car. I discovered that there is a market niche for pinewood derby extras. They had pre-cut car bodies (none in the shape of an El Camino, but stylish nonetheless), special wheels (illegal according to the box), axles, decals, lift kits, and several kinds of weights. I bought the kind you screw onto the underside of the car. I also purchased black spray paint, and some glow-in-the-dark paint for the body.

Wednesday, February 4-I flew to Washington D.C. and did not return until...

Sunday, February 8-By this time, I was really tired. I'd spent 3 days in trainings that were emotionally exhausting, only to get up at 5:00 that morning to get to the airport so that I could make it back to Lubbock in time to speak in church. When I got home that night, I spent a little bit of time sanding it with a fine sandpaper, and then I sprayed it black on my front porch and dragged it inside to protect it from the elements.

Monday, February 9-RACE DAY!!! I gave the car a quick coat of glow-in-the-dark paint in the morning before I went to class. Sadly, because of how busy I was that day, and because I was in charge of the event and had to get some things together, and because I was also entering chili, I pretty much had to leave my car at that.

As for the chili, I wanted to enter something, not because I think I make great chili (this was actually my first attempt), but because, again, I was in charge of the event, and I was concerned no one else would make any. So I used a recipe I found in the Essential Mormon Celebrations cookbook, which called for, among other things, a can of chili. Yes, that's right-the recipe for chili calls for a can of chili. Does anybody else think this sounds suspiciously like whittling a toy boat out of a bigger toy boat? I complained about this to Melanee, who gave me the idea to use this recipe and she said, "It's not going to win anything. It's just a decent recipe." And it is. If you are a mom who needs to make dinner for your family, the prep time on this recipe is about 10 minutes, and then you let everything simmer for an hour. Perfect for me, since I had to shower and dry my hair.

Layne and I divided the events. He took the derby, while I took the cookoff, which meant I had to delegate some of the finishing touches on my car: Ryan set the wheels for me; Layne attached the weights; and Karli made sure it raced when it was supposed to.

The chili contest was finished long before the race. Layne divided the cars up into brackets, March Madness-style for those in the regulation and non-regulation categories, and the cars raced while our two judges sampled chili and made pronouncements. There were eight entries, from one with sausage and brisket to Stephanie's hobo chili. I am embarrassed to say that my recipe won. I thought it would be funny to snap a picture of the tiny plastic trophy displayed prominently in my apartment, but I ended up giving it to the two-year-old grandson of the judges, who had cast the deciding vote in my favor.

A few months ago, the Normal Mormon Husband blogged about how he hates those sports movies where the girl triumphs over the boys because he does not feel they are realistic. He then goes on to tell about how his wife's fantasy football team was beating his and all of the rest of his buddies' teams, despite the fact that she did not use any sophisticated system to pick her team the way they did.

I had a similar victory. Before I even realized it, my car had won the first, second, and third rounds, in spite of a track that was definitely biased toward one lane. And then, just like that, my car had won the regulation category. Its next test was a face-off against the winner of the non-regulation category, a car shaped like a high-heeled shoe that Ashley, its designer called "Heel on Wheels." WINNER! Of course, the victory wasn't really complete until Layne raced it alongside his El Camino (which, due to an odd number of cars, he had withheld from the competition). That race wasn't even close. A solid victory! The funny part about it is that, despite the fact that I was making sure everyone had bowls for chili (we ran out and I ended up "borrowing" a few from another ward) I was still paying more attention to the race than Karli was, and, like my father before me, I found myself prodding her to make sure the car got raced. Ahh.

The sad thing about the whole experience is that I sent the car home with Karli, and I forgot to get pictures of it. So just picture a crudely whittled skateboard about the size of a Twinkie, covered in glossy black paint and a thin layer of something that vaguely glows. In the meantime, here is a shot of Stephanie with her car, which has the word BLING spelled out in rhinestones.

And a shot of it next to Layne's El Camino. Both cars were carved by Layne. Both cars seem to accurately describe the personalities of their owners. Layne's last name is actually painted across his back window.

And, last of all, here is a shot of me in my pioneer/camouflage skirt with what is left of my award-winning chili:

I think it's going to be an annual event. Hopefully, I won't be involved in the planning of it next year. I may have to get my car back from Karli.

The Trail Mix Experiment

Now that I am finished with my hours in the clinic, I have time to do things like go to Enrichment. Sort of. For Enrichment, they asked us to make a healthy recipe and bring it to share. Not having a ton of time to make a recipe, and needing to make something that I could leave in my car all day while I was at school, I picked trail mix.

I know what you're thinking: what more is there to making trail mix than opening a few cans of nuts and bags of raisins? Nothing. That was the best part.

I decided to make the trail mix I like from Trader Joe's, which is superior to the kind I grew up with, that was mostly peanuts and raisins, with a tiny handful of M&M knockoffs. Lubbock does not have a Trader Joe's, which should not be surprising to anyone. However, Wal-Mart makes a very similar product. No, I didn't cheat with the Wal-Mart stuff, but it did give me an idea.

Inspired by cockeyed.com, I decided to see if I could make the trail mix cheaper than I could buy it at Wal-Mart. Here was the breakdown of items and prices, so you can make your own trail mix at home. Mine is the one on the left.

Wal-Mart Trail Mix-$4.98/20 oz.

My trail mix:

dried cranberries-$1.32/6 oz.

golden raisins-$2.08/15 oz.

white chocolate chips-$2.42/11 oz.

peanut butter/milk chocolate chips-$2.14/12 oz.

almonds-$5.98/16 oz. 

cashews-$3.08/10 oz.

peanuts-$2.28/16 oz.

total weight: 86 oz.

total cost: $20.20

If I did the math right on my cell phone, that works out to $.235/oz. for my trail mix, as compared to $.249/oz. for the Wal-Mart trail mix. 

So, while I can conclude that, per ounce, mine was cheaper, I also realize the following things:

• $20 is a lot to spend on trail mix to save a cent and a half.
  
• I probably won't have many more occasions where I want or need a giant mixing bowl full of trail mix.
• Mine had more almonds than the Wal-Mart brand (cheapskates), which means I probably could have made it more cheaply if I could have found a smaller container of almonds.
• Given that it has three different kinds of baking chips, it's probably not really that healthy.
• I probably could have done the analysis without buying the Wal-Mart trail mix.

I would actually like to rebut that last point because when I took my trail mix to Enrichment, it was a big hit, and the girls there either ate it or took it home in baggies, leaving me with just a handful of almonds and a few golden raisins. So, it turned out to be a good thing that I had an extra bag at home, as well as a bad thing. You see, the other thing I have learned from the trail mix experiment is that I probably don't have enough fiber in my diet, given what all that dried fruit did to my digestive system.

Man V. Food

It seems to me like my posts have not been very diversified. I mostly talk about what is going on with my branch or what happens when I go out of town because the rest of my life is BORING. However, in an effort to diversify, I thought I would give a shout-out to one of my new favorite shows, Man V. Food, which comes on Wednesday nights on the Travel Channel. I was introduced to this show by Stephanie. We now have a standing date every Wednesday night to watch it when she gets done with work. It is amazing!

The host is a man named Adam Richman, an intriguing character from New York, who has a master's degree in drama from Yale, but has distinguished himself by working in almost every job imaginable in the restaurant business. The premise of the show is that he visits cities around the U.S., and spends a couple of days at some of the restaurants the cities are famous for. At the end of the show, he will take on a "food challenge." These food challenges have included a 7 pound burger, a 13 pound pizza (he had a partner for that one), and a 72 oz. steak. Sometimes, he's able to eat all of whatever he's supposed to. Sometimes he doesn't. Here are the reasons I think the show is so appealing to me and Stephanie:

• There's drama-will he be able to finish the 13 pound pizza, or will he have to forfeit because his partner had to leave the restaurant to puke in the bushes? I am continually amazed at the amount of food he is able to eat.
• There's comedy-if he can't finish his food, he waves a white flag (or possibly a dish towel) in surrender. At the end, he holds a mock press conference where people in the restaurant ask him questions, typically related to how full he feels.
• It's exciting when he visits cities I have been to, like Memphis or Austin. He was in Amarillo, which is only a couple of hours away from Lubbock and comparable in size.
• Stephanie finds him immensely attractive. He tends to get sauce on his face when he is eating, and he has been known to break out in "the meat sweats" from time to time.
• He looks like a guy I used to date, whose name was also Adam.
• It sparks conversation. I showed it to Danny when I was in Vegas over Christmas, and I could tell he was thinking about where he could go to test out his eating abilities.
• Adam often describes the food he is eating, the way a food critic does. Actually, Stephanie hates this part.

 Anyway, it probably doesn't really have anything to do with anything, but I thought I would share that piece of my life with the three people who read this blog. If you get the Travel Channel, I would highly recommend checking it out. If you do not get the Travel Channel, you should make friends with someone who does, like I did.

Time Warp

My branch had a murder mystery dinner over the weekend, which was set in the 1920's. That, in and of itself, was a time warp. But the time warp referred to in the title of this blog refers to something different.

The part I was given for this dinner was the jazz-singing trophy wife of a Chicago mob boss. For this part, I dug into my closet and pulled out the dress I wore to my senior prom almost ten years ago. I had to do some things to it to make it temple appropriate, which included wearing a flesh-colored bodysuit underneath it. I did not win the contest for best costume, but I thought a side-by-side comparison of me then and now would be funny. In addition, I just bought a scanner, and I thought it would be a good chance to try it out.

So, now, here's a picture of me in 1999, with my prom date, Patrick Leytham, who, at the time, was the only guy I knew who crossed over into both the band world and the LDS world. In high school, that was pretty much prom destiny.

Next to it is a picture of me in 2009, with Layne, who was playing my husband that night. Incidentally, he was murdered in the first 20 minutes of the evening and came back as a ghost to haunt me. He was more paper Halloween cutout than Sixth Sense in his attempt to be scary. You will note that his hand is almost touching me.

Some interesting similarities between the men in these pictures:

• Both are 6'1". If none of the other similarities seem odd, this one should, unless you remember that most of my friends/guys I have dated have been significantly taller than me.

• Both are big supporters of the University of Texas (Patrick lived in Texas before he moved to Las Vegas, the summer before our sophomore year). That one seems odd.

• Both spoke Spanish on their missions, Patrick in Louisville, Kentucky, and Layne in Bolivia. I realize, in the LDS Church, that's like saying they were both Boy Scouts, but I needed at least three bullet points to make a respectable list.

I racked my brain for minutes before I got distracted, but those were the only ones I could come up with. Looks-wise, you may note that neither one has what you would call a well-defined jawline. Obviously, both guys are LDS, and both guys, in their respective time periods, spent a lot of time with me. However, Patrick, last I heard, was married, and living in Las Vegas, whereas Layne lives in Lubbock and is not married. Also, while they happen to be the same height, their builds are not very similar, and neither is their coloring.

As for me, since 1999, I have changed my hair at least once. I now have two-and-a-half degrees, and I served a mission in New York. And (knock on wood) it's been awhile since I last got a traffic citation. I can no longer do the splits, but I'm pretty sure that ability was gone by the time I was a senior anyway.

Things about me that have not changed:

• I am still single.


• I am still in school.


• I still drive a Toyota.


• I can still fit into my prom dress. I'm pretty sure this one will never come in handy again.

The real girl

WARNING: THE SUBJECT OF THIS POST IS WEIRD.

The night I got back from Las Vegas, as I was watching the Utes beat Alabama, and temporarily wishing I were a Utah fan, Layne called. Not wanting to rest on our laurels after shooting four skits for the movie, he was planning on shooting another one the next day. Here's where it gets weird (in case you already think moviemaking is weird):

This particular skit is about guys trying to figure out girls. When Layne wrote it, he envisioned the boys sitting in a laboratory where they examined a blow-up doll in order to gain insight about women. I pointed out that, in order to shoot that scene, we would need a blow-up doll, something typically only sold in adult bookstores and on unsavory websites. It didn't make things better when Layne explained that he already had a blow-up doll, which his male colleagues gave him as a joke. After several arguments and consultation with others

 on the subject, he agreed we wouldn't use the doll if I could find a suitable replacement. I was supposed to get a Raggedy Ann doll from my parents' house. I forgot.

But, bent on not using the inflatable woman, I went to some trouble to make a fake woman myself. This is the weird part. I used my own clothes and created some structure with arms and legs made of my old pantyhose. I used one of those creepy plastic masks that are clear but make the wearer look like he/she is wearing makeup (which begs the question, why wouldn't you just put makeup on your own face?) to create a face, and a wig for hair.  Layne came by while I was putting on the finishing touches and, through bursts of laughter, said, "You didn't have to make it so elaborate." So, here she is:

We call this look Disco Doll, as it is a wig that Stephanie wore to a disco-skating event. After this photo was taken, we determined that she had no neck, so we added a giant dowel to her pantyhose frame.

This wig is called Astrid, and was part of Stephanie's Halloween costume when she was a viking.

This last wig, the wig we ultimately chose to film her in, belongs to Layne, and was used when he played a hippie father in a murder mystery the branch did last year.

I feel like part of her charm lies in the fact that she looks nothing at all like a real woman. Also, I am a big fan of her giant sunglasses, which I bought for three dollars on the way to Vancouver. They make me look like Elton John, but they look good on her and they hide the fact that she has no eyes. She's kind of like Bunsen Honeydew or Marcie from Peanuts.

Allison graciously allowed us to use the laboratory where she works breeding flies. I'm sure the other people who were there that day thought we were insane. Here she is standing next to Hurmon, one of our researchers, and my home teacher.

Here is a shot of Layne giving direction to J.C. and Logan, two more of our "researchers."

I am now sitting here with the partially deconstructed fake woman wearing my clothing and shoes, wondering if this is less creepy than the blow-up doll would have been. On one hand, she did not come from an x-rated book store. On the other hand, the fact that I am referring to this thing as if it has a gender is not good. Plus, I now own a creepy mask that brought back my childhood fear of masks. I am putting a voting option on this page, and allowing the six readers of this blog to decide.