O Pioneers!

Yes, today is the day that Utahns stop and observe a moment of reverent silence for the pioneers that founded our pretty, great state. And I'm all for it. After last year's trek through Wyoming, I have a new appreciation for everything those people did to gain freedom from religious persecution in a barren wasteland.

Having no pioneer ancestors of my own to boast about, I must find other opportunities to flaunt personal stories of bravery and religious stoicism. On Thanksgiving I get to share pilgrim stories with my family (and anyone else who will listen) and we bask in the life-giving light of knowing we are descended from someone special.

With the understanding that today would not be an appropriate time to share my heritage, and even if it was, your eyes would glaze over and you would become semiconscious before the end of the first line, I decided to do something a little different to celebrate the day: I went to Kmart and bought makeup. (This was last night--of course I didn't do any such frivolous shopping on Sunday.) I also did some intense studying on the Internet--how to put the stuff on, how not to make yourself look like a clown, etc. Then, this morning at 6 a.m., I began the laborious process of trying to get some of this stuff to stick to my face in a semi-attractive way.

I don't know why I decided to pick this day, this week, this year of all times to do this. Maybe it was the holiday spirit that got into me. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was that dream I had where I was in a major department store getting a makeover and the woman made me look about twenty years younger and also a lot like a fashion model. Perhaps it was the conversation I had with Taylor in which I told her she could start wearing makeup when she turns 12. Maybe it was all of the above.

Anyway, I haven't had one of my disfiguring rashes in a long time (the kind where, when I wear any kind of makeup, huge scabs appear all over my eyelids and my facial skin falls off like a leper). So I thought maybe now would be a good time to see if the allergies have calmed down with age, or if they're still in there waiting to ambush me.

In my Internet studies I found out that I have "hooded" eyelids, which means that in a few years' time I'll have to have surgery to correct the overhanging flaps of skin that will be obstructing my vision. That was a breakthrough. Now I know how to best apply eye makeup to minimize that unsightly problem.

Anyway, I worked hard on the face for about half an hour, and here's what I got out of it: Bret said I looked nice, but not different, which was good. Taylor said I looked pretty. No one else even noticed. Not even a second glance. And so far I don't have any leprosy-related problems, except that my eyes are burning like I've been crying for about six hours straight, but I think that's just because my mascara is cheap. And I look fanTAStic.

So what does all that have to do with pioneers? Not a whole lot on the surface, admittedly, but when you really ponder on the indomitable spirit of pioneering, I think it makes a perfect parallel. Those people didn't let hardship or difficulties stand in their way; they often had to face rejection from friends and family, and they made the desert "blossom as the rose." A fitting tribute, in my opinion. And a lot more fun and interesting than recounting some long, boring story about how my great-great-great grandmother got her legs frozen off and still walked all the way to Salt Lake on the stumps of what was left of her legs, carrying her mother and three younger sisters on her back, without eating anything but snow for six weeks.

Happy Pioneer Day!