No, this has nothing to do with Obama's visit to Afghanistan or John McCain calling the Czech Republic Czechoslovakia three times. This is about important stuff.

Will got voted off SYTYCD. And I am officially pissed.

Are you kidding me? He is so insanely talented that it makes me sick. And now the finale is not going to be as good because he's not in it. Plus, Mark has to feel like an absolute tool because what do you say to that? "Yeah, your dancing is about ten million times better than mine but I did get the whole state of Hawaii to vote for me, so, about that..."? Everyone knew that Will was the best dancer on the show. Plus, as evidenced by the video, he is the only guy in America who can dance that stunningly while wearing a pair of never-nudes (Tobias is turning green with envy).

Unbelievable. Come on people.

So, the other day, I was in Smith's Marketplace and I saw a kid trailing behind his mom's cart, walking unsteadily down the cereal aisle. Why? Because he had his nose about two inches away from the pages of the book he was trying to read as he walked. I waited to see his mom turn to go down another aisle. He stopped in a daze, not even attempting to keep up with her. Two seconds later, she doubled back and impatiently pulled him along. I had to laugh. It really took me back.

I was that kid.

Let's be honest. I was a geek. I read anything and everything I could get my hands on, regardless of my comprehension level or age appropriateness of the material (which may have explained why my mom found me reading "Gone With The Wind" in second grade and then had to explain to me what the Civil War was). Every night, I would sneak books into bed with a flashlight. I remember loving to see the sun rise as I finished the last page of whatever it was I was reading that day. My whole childhood was shaped by the books I read, from "Babysitters Club" to "Brave New World." I was that same kid, driving my mom nuts because I wouldn't put the book down for long enough to keep up with her.

Which is why I'm loving the adult reincarnation of my love for books: The Kellie Bacon Book Club (it's called that because we all know each other through Kellie... get it? Kevin Bacon, Kellie Bacon... I thought it would be funny). Anyway, I can't say enough about how much I love my book club. All of the girls in it are smart, funny, successful, insightful, insane. I used to think joining a book club was a boring mom thing to do. Now that I see all of the crazy stuff that women actually talk about at book club, I realize that this is the hip place to be.

I'm also adding this Shelfari thing to my blog to show the books I'm reading or have read, both for book club and outside of book club. I always love recommendations from the people I like. And I'm going on a trip soon, which means that I want to take at least my full body weight in books (Jon told me I have to carry the backpack with the books-- I think it's his attempt at regulation). So, comment away and tell me about all the stuff I should be reading.

It's been two years since I got married and, as of several days ago, I had yet to change all of my legal documentation from "Spittler" to "Shaffer." I don't know entirely why. Maybe it was a combination of fierce loyalty to the Spittler name that was infused with years of elementary school suffering (just mix anything closely resembling the word spit with any child between the ages of 5-9 and imagine all the possibilities). Maybe it was the sense of identity that came from being one of only two "Amy Spittler's" in the whole world (okay, yes, I googled myself. You may say it's narcissistic but I found out that the only other person in the whole world with my name is a collegiate swimmer in Alaska. Sounds like the beginning to the next Wes Anderson movie, right? We should become friends and go on a Yukon train trip and see all the wacky ways that we... never mind.) Or maybe it's because I'm just lazy and didn't want to hassle with all that annoying paperwork.

Whatever it was, it was working pretty well for me. I pretty much had everything under control, remembering that I was Amy Shaffer at church and the gym and Amy Spittler at the pharmacy and the bank, Amy Spittler on my work email and Amy Shaffer on my gmail. I was actually rather proud of my mental juggling.

Until last Wednesday.

That's the day that I realized that I had booked my plane ticket for our upcoming trip in my married name and that my passport was still in my maiden name. At first, I told myself not to be too worried. But then I called the airline and they said there was no possible way I would be allowed on the plane if my ticket name and passport name didn't match. So, the last few days have been a blur of Social Security office lines and expedited passport forms. And $135 later, I am now officially Amy Elizabeth Shaffer. And I'll have a brand spanking new passport with none of the cool stamps I had accumulated over the last several years (yes, I was the annoying person who still asked for the stamps even though they don't really do that anymore).

No more hedging my bets, Jon. I'm in this for life now.

Something I love: Dwight as Xena

I don't know if it's the hairy legs or the saucepan bra set-up, but this is freaking funny stuff, man. The fact that he kind of pulls it off is both disturbing and awesome. Check out the Entertainment Weekly piece that this came from, where he also impersonates McGyver, Paulie Walnuts from the Sopranos and Captain Picard. Genius.






Something I hate: Indecision

I am not ashamed to say that I have some obsessive tendencies, especially when it comes to making decisions. So, when I tell you that 85% of the conversations I've had with my husband this week have revolved around the roughly 92 million internet reviews I've read about this camera that I want, you shouldn't be surprised. I think I'm driving him absolutely nuts (while eating dinner: "On dpreview.com, though, they said that it didn't perform as well in high ISO situations"... getting in bed: "But then I can't use the prime lens series because the focusing computer isn't in-camera." ETC.) I've been really wanting a DSLR for a while and am getting a little more serious about it in light of our upcoming trip. With my price range and ultimate intentions for the camera, I've narrowed it down to two: the Nikon D60 and the Nikon D80.

But now I am an absolutely crazy person (we're talking crack addict, Gary Busey crazy) trying to make a final decision. I just keep getting sucked in to read yet another review.

Help me?

So, apparently this very persuasive campaign from the Polish Tourism Board worked 'cause we're going to Poland!

Jon and I have been thinking about doing this for a while. Amidst all of our joking about our mission courtship (it's just jokes, relax), we never got to serve in the same places. I am so unbelievably excited to go. I love traveling more than anything. Unfortunately, I also get somewhat freaked out by money (and the lack thereof) and those things fairly regularly clash, especially with airfare being as expensive as it is now and me accepting the idea that I have to be a responsible adult. But at some point we realized that, while still being sensible, you have to just go for it and do stuff every now and then because the experiences and memories are the whole point of life.

So here's the itinerary for our little Eastern European adventure: we're going to fly into Budapest on Aug.5, spend a few days there, then go to Prague. We'll be in Prague for three days and then we'll head up to Krakow and then to Warsaw, stopping along the way in some of the smaller cities that we served in. Then we'll end the trip in Gdansk/Sopot/Gdynia, the beautiful tricities area of Poland that is right on the coast of the Baltic Sea. Then we'll fly out of the Gdansk airport on Aug. 19.

July is going to feel like a really long month to wait.



P.S. -- I could find out the actual translation of the French on the poster, but I'd rather have all of you give me suggestions of what you think it should say. You know, like, "Come Lay Some Pipe in Poland," or "Come Expand Your Horizons with these Fancy Tools I'm Holding." I know you can come up with some good ones.

One of my favorite things to do with Jon is go on random little shopping trips. On this particular outing, we hit up DI. Trips to DI have become increasingly rare lately, mainly because I'm not as dirt poor as I was in college and the charm of buying shoes that someone else has already been putting their feet in kind of wears off when you have more than $3.50 to spend. DI does have its benefits, though, in that you can occasionally find gems like this.





I think we can all agree that there's nothing hotter than ravishing someone with an infant looking on. Thanks, "Heart of the Raven," for teaching my innocent young husband the true ways of the world. And all for only 50 cents.




(For any concerned family members reading this: No, we didn't really buy it. What kind of pervs do you think we are?)



The store next door to DI was also another highlight and we didn't even have to go in.




The 99 cent +- store? As in "everything here is 99 cents, give or take some"? Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that every store?


I love it.

Yesterday was a special day. It was Vegas day on So You Think You Can Dance, an event that like-minded SYTYCD fans will know is no small deal. I even convinced my husband to let me pick him up early from work so that I could be properly seated and ready for the festivities when the clock struck seven.

Little did I know that my plans were about to be foiled.

As Jon and I walked from the car to the house, we saw a lady from our ward walking up the street. I tried to hastily wave and keep moving (it was 6:55, man) but it quickly became clear that she was in the mood to talk. Now, let me give you a little context: this lady is kind of crazy. She did make Jon teach her Sunday School lesson once by calling him late Saturday afternoon and telling him that she felt a prompting from the spirit that she shouldn't teach the lesson. So, it should have come as no surprise that she spent the next ten minutes telling us about a little problem she has called a "mold response" that apparently turns her into the Incredible Hulk and has caused her not only to dump her boyfriend in an irrational rage but also to change wards (the other ward meets in a different building with--you guessed it-- less mold). After a while, Jon could tell that I was dying a little bit inside with every minute that passed and graciously figured out a way to wrap up the conversation. I did almost cry, though, when I flew up the stairs and turned on the TV only to see that I had missed seeing crazy popper alien dude dance his last dance.

I think I probably need to get a life. Or at least Tivo. And probably repent.