2023 books: A greedy indulgence

This year, I reached a new level of bookish nerdery. I've always had a disconnect between what I think I can read and what I'm actually able to read, but in 2023 I deluded myself into thinking that I could keep up with all the latest releases and catch up on some old titles. If you want something badly enough, you can make it happen, right?

As a result, my TBR (to be read) stack on my nightstand became an alarmingly high tower I fully expected to topple over one night while I was stress-dreaming about all the reading I hadn't gotten to yet. 

July 2023. This book tower looks pretty reasonable compared to what it looked like in early December.

I also enjoyed several library binges, where I stretched my holds max (50 books) almost to the limit and established myself as one of those special patrons who regularly enters the library with a giant bag over one shoulder.

I was too scared to make a tower out of my library books, so I divided them up by genre and lined them up against the wall instead.

I was greedy about books this year, but still emerged from 2023 with far more unread books than I wanted. Something that always baffled Deluded Angie when she returned stacks of unread books to the library and her TBR stack kept getting taller, not shorter.

I was disciplined enough to read a good chunk of the books I bought or checked out from the library, but would have needed to quit my job or acquire speed-reading superpowers to devour even half of what was taunting me just at my house.

One thing I wasn't delusional about, though, was how good the reading was this year. 2023 was an exceptionally great year for new releases, and I've gotten pretty good at choosing books that are a good match for me, too—a crucial skill for any voracious reader who can't afford to waste time on bad or disappointing books. 

Book stats

Goal: 80 books

Books read: 96. As much as it pains me to get so close to another 100-book year, I don't regret falling short. It means I had a life outside of the book world too, even if it doesn't look like it. 

Pages read: 36,744 (about 368 pages per book). Is it just me, or are books getting longer? Seems like the average book length used to be 200–300 pages.

Books abandoned: 13

Rereads: ZERO. Considering how hard I tried to read all the new releases this year, this shouldn't surprise me, but it really does. Rereading books has been a part of my reading identity my whole life—I've never once gone a whole year without rereading something. I have a hunch I'll be rereading a lot of books next year, so equilibrium will be restored.

This graph demonstrates why I always have trouble answering the "What kinds of books do you read?" question. I don't know how to get straight to the point without leaving out important genre preferences.

Ratings

I've gotten less stingy with my star ratings the last few years, and it's rare that I finish a book that earns less than 3 stars from me. The result is a happier reading life.

Fiction vs. nonfiction

I read nonfiction much slower than I do fiction, but both are constants in my reading life.

Male vs. female authors

I could almost use the same pie chart for fiction vs. nonfiction and male vs. female authors. Most of my nonfiction books were written by men, whereas most of my fiction books were written by women. 

Longest book: The Covenant of Water, by Abraham Verghese (724 pages).  

Shortest book: Long Chills and Case Dough, by Brandon Sanderson (67 pages). Hilarious, considering Sanderson often gets the "longest book" callout on these recaps.

Favorites

I almost didn't pick favorites this year because narrowing it down to just two books felt more impossible than usual. But after I finished compiling this post I realized that I hadn't talked about a few of my favorites yet, so I decided to feature them as my official favorites. But just know that they share this honor with at least 10 other books. 

Fiction: Hello Beautiful, by Ann Napolitano. This is a story about four sisters, which was all it took to pique my interest, coming from a family of four girls (and one boy) myself. While this book isn't exactly a retelling of Little Women, it is an homage of sorts, and the sisters reference the March sisters much like my sisters and I did. I found a lot to relate to in this book, and it checked all my literary boxes.

Nonfiction: Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life, by Barbara Kingsolver. I found this memoir about a family that only ate locally grown food for a year fascinating. Food, in general, is a topic that interests me to no end (this isn't the first time I've picked a food-centric book for my favorite nonfiction pick), but this one made me want to overhaul my life and center it on nutritious food. I wouldn't go so far as to grow all of my own food, but a career pivot to something in the nutrition realm did cross my mind.

Book pairings

One of my favorite things about reflecting on my reading year is seeing the random themes that emerge. This year a lot of the themes came in pairs, so I decided to highlight some of them in book pairings.

Pandemic novels

I didn't seek out pandemic books this year, but two of my favorite books ended up being set during 2020. Tom Lake, by Ann Patchett, is about a family with three adult daughters who move back home to wait out the pandemic and help out at their parents' cherry orchard. It was such a lovely, comforting book, and it made me wish I could have spent the spring of 2020 picking cherries with my mom and sisters while our mom told us stories about her life.

Happiness Falls, by Angie Kim, is also a family story set during early covid, but it is anything but cozy. Instead of reminiscing together, this family is focused on figuring out why their dad disappeared, an event that had only one witness: his son who can't speak. I don't usually go for true crime / murder mystery type books, but this one had me hooked. It had so many layers to it and I learned so much about so many things as I raced through it. 

Creepy guys stalking actors

I read a lot of books about actors this year, which definitely wasn't planned because I don't enjoy spending time with narcissists. Two of those actresses unfortunately had stalkers, as seen in The Eden Test by Adam Sternbergh and With My Little Eye by Joshilyn Jackson. I actually enjoyed The Eden Test, but With My Little Eye really creeped me out. Parts of it hit a little too close to home, I guess. I don't think I'll be picking up another book with a stalker any time soon.

Aquatic POV characters

I kid you not—this popped up more than once this year. First was in Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt, which is about an octopus who helps solve crimes. Well, one crime. Which is more of a family mystery than a crime. The premise sounds gimmicky, but it actually works in what feels like a realistic way. Really enjoyed this book.

The other book, Shark Heart by Emily Habeck, had an even weirder premise. In this world, people can get a strange disease kind of like Alzheimer's, but instead of slowly losing your memories and sense of self, you gradually transform into an animal. Lewis, a newlywed and drama teacher (again with the actors!), turns into a shark. It's a beautifully written love story, but was kind of an uncomfortable read. Seeing people turn into another species was a little bit too weird for me, even though, again, it was written in a way that felt very true to life.

Dinosaurs coming back TO life

I finally got around to reading Jurassic Park, and it was excellent. A zombified dinosaur makes an appearance in Jim Butcher's Dead Beat too, which was also very entertaining. Why are dinosaurs so much fun?

Opioids

One of my first nonfiction reads was Patrick Radden Keefe's Empire of Pain, which is about the Sackler family and the opioid crisis. A few months later I read Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver, thinking I was getting a reimagining of Charles Dickens' David Copperfield (which it technically is), and instead getting another devastating account of how OxyContin destroys lives. Both were troubling reads, but well worth the time. I still think about them both often.

Maine

When I have a trip coming up, I like to read a book about or set in that place shortly before I leave. This is partly the Hermione in me wanting to do my homework, but it also amps up my excitement for the trip. I love getting to know a place in the pages of a book and then geeking out over it shortly thereafter in real life.

So with a family trip to Maine in September, I knew I would be reading at least one book set there. But apparently Maine is a popular place to visit in the literary world too, because it kept showing up in the books I was reading. (No complaints here—Maine is pretty great.) Happy Place by Emily Henry was my favorite of the batch. I love Emily Henry, and this was my favorite novel of hers. Flying Solo by Linda Holmes mentioned Bar Harbor (where we stayed) a few times, which made me very excited, but was otherwise kind of a lame book.

Epic races

This one is a bit of a stretch, but I wanted to make sure I talked about both of these books. They're both about racing to a finish line, in a way, so I'll make it work. 

First is The Emerald Mile, by Kevin Fedarko, which chronicles the fastest trip down the Colorado River via boat, and wow it was a ride. The 1983 record was broken after this book came out, but it's still a thrilling read. Kind of surprised no one has turned it into a movie yet.

The epic race in The Wishing Game by Meg Shaffer is much more my style, though. Instead of risking life and limb to shatter a record racing through the Grand Canyon, the characters in this book are on a quest (in Maine!) to win the last book written by a famous author. It's basically Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, but with books. This was one of the biggest surprises of my reading year and is a great one if you need a little more hope in your life.

Year of Sanderson

I can't finish out this year without touching on the Year of Sanderson publishing experiment. I have no problem giving Brandon Sanderson more of my money, so I signed up for the subscription box on Kickstarer pretty much the moment I heard about it. The subscription included one box a month full of Sanderson goodies, including four secret novels Sanderson wrote during covid (plus a bonus short story from his college years). 

I was mainly there for the books, obviously, but it was the fun swag items that impressed me the most. Lots of high-quality stuff (my Sanderson collection now rivals my Harry Potter collection) and so many creative ideas. Every time I opened a box I imagined how much fun it would be to be on Sanderson's marketing team. Maybe some day.

As for the books, I felt like they weren't up to Sanderson's usual standard, but I really enjoyed two of them and all of them are beautiful to look at. Yumi and the Nightmare Painter was my favorite of the batch, in part because of this quote, which perfectly encapsulates why I don't enjoy endless sunny days, especially during the summer:

"There was a certain enervating effulgence of sunlight, sapping away strength, making him lethargic. Perhaps, Painter thought, that was what the sun subsisted on: burning as fuel the willpower of those who lived beneath it."

August 2023. The bookends I got in the Mistborn box prompted a full-on library reorganization, with Brandon's books taking the coveted spot at the top. The rest of my Sanderson paraphernalia is displayed on the little bookcase on the far left. 

All the books I read in 2023 

Bolded titles = books I rated 4.5 or 5 stars
DNF = did not finish

1. A Fire Endless, Rebecca Ross
2. The House of Spirits, Isabel Allende
3. Five Winters, Kitty Johnson
4. Keeper of Enchanted Rooms, Charlie N. Holmberg
5. 3rd, 4th Nephi: A Brief Theological Introduction, Daniel Beccera
6. We Are the Light, Matthew Quick
7. The Untold Story, Genevieve Cogman
8. Where the Drowned Girls Go, Seanan McGuire
9. The Guns of August, Barbara W. Tuchman
10. Lunar Love, Lauren Kung Jessen
11. Someone Else's Shoes, Jojo Moyes
12. River Sing Me Home, Eleanor Shearer
13. The Perishing, Natashia Deon (DNF)
14. Blood Rites, Jim Butcher
15. American Gods, Neil Gaiman (DNF)
16. Georgie, All Along, Kate Clayborn
17. The Priesthood Power of Women: In the Temple, Church, and Family, Barbara Morgan Gardner
18. The Invisible Woman, Erika Robuck
19. Empire of Pain: The Secret History of the Sackler Dynasty
20. A Court of Thorns and Roses, Sarah J. Maas
21. A Court of Mist and Fury, Sarah J. Maas
22. The Soulmate, Sally Hepworth
23. Tress of the Emerald Sea, Brandon Sanderson
24. The Nineties, Chuck Klosterman
25. Us Against You, Fredrik Backman
26. The Wilderwomen, Ruth Emmie Lang
27. A Court of Wings and Ruin, Sarah J. Maas
28. These Precious Days, Ann Patchett
29. Lessons in Chemistry, Bonnie Garmus
30. Mormon: A Brief Theological Introduction, Adam S. Miller
31. The Paris Apartment, Lucy Foley (DNF)
32. The Big Picture: The Fight for the Future of Movies, Ben Fritz
33. Sign Here, Claudia Lux
34. Demon Copperhead, Barbara Kingsolver
35. Love and Other Words, Christina Lauren
36. The Frugal Wizard's Handbook for Surviving Medieval England, Brandon Sanderson
37. Happily: A Personal History—with Fairy Tales
38. Travel as a Political Act, Rick Steves
39. The Once and Future King, T.H. White (DNF)
40. Jurassic Park, Michael Crichton
41. The Eden Test, Adam Sternbergh
42. Hooked: How Crafting Saved My Life, Sutton Foster (DNF)
43. The Bookshop on the Shore, Jenny Colgan (DNF)
44. Happy Place, Emily Henry
45. The Last Thing He Told Me, Laura Dave
46. Heartburn, Nora Ephron
47. The Emerald Mile: The Epic Story of the Fastest Ride Through the Heart of the Grand Canyon, Kevin Fedarko
48. Watch Us Shine, Marisa de los Santos
49. To Shape a Dragon's Breath, Moniquill Blackgoose (DNF)
50. Pandora, Susan Stokes-Chapman
51. Divine Rivals, Rebecca Ross
52. Wolf Hall, Hilary Mantel
53. The Making of Another Major Motion Picture, Tom Hanks (DNF)
54. Ether: A Brief Theological Introduction: Rosalynde Frandsen Welch
55. The Covenant of Water, Abraham Verghese
56. King: A Life, Jonathan Eig
57. Recipe for Persuasion, Sonali Dev
58. I Feel Bad About My Neck, and Other Thoughts on Being a Woman, Nora Ephron
59. Yumi and the Nightmare Painter, Brandon Sanderson
60. The Pioneers: The Heroic Story of Settlers Who Brought the American Ideal West, David McCullough (DNF)
61. With My Little Eye, Joshilyn Jackson
62. Lost in the Moment and Found, Seanan McGuire
63. Remarkably Bright Creatures, Shelby Van Pelt
64. Ink Blood Sister Scribe, Emma Torzs
65. Yellowface, R.F. Kuang
66. Same Time Next Summer, Annabel Monaghan (DNF)
67. Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine, and the Murder of a President, Candice Millard
68. The Wishing Game, Meg Shaffer
69. The Gifts, Liz Hyder
70. No Two Persons, Erica Bauermeister
71. Homecoming, Kate Morton
72. The Collected Regrets of Clover, Mikki Brammer
73. The Secret Book of Flora Lea, Patti Callahan Henry
74. Life in Five Senses: How Exploring the Senses Got Me Out of My Head and Into the World, Gretchen Rubin
75. Shark Heart, Emily Habeck
76. Tom Lake, Ann Patchett
77. The Northern Reach, W.S. Winslow (DNF)
78. Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life, Barbara Kingsolver
79. Apples Never Fall: Liane Moriarty
80. Flying Solo, Linda Holmes
81. The American Spirit: Who We Are and What We Stand For, David McCullough
82. Jayber Crow, Wendell Berry
83. Moroni: A Brief Theological Introduction, David F. Holland
84. Dead Beat, Jim Butcher
85. Scarlet, Genevieve Cogman
86. Starling House, Alix E. Harrow
87. A Mirror Mended, Alix E. Harrow
88. Dead Voices, Katherine Arden
89. The Unfortunate Side Effects of Heartbreak and Magic, Breanne Randall
90. Spells for Forgetting, Adrienne Young
91. The Sunlit Man, Brandon Sanderson
92. To the Lighthouse, Virginia Woolf (DNF)
93. The Lost Queen, Signe Pike
94. The Forgotten Kingdom, Signe Pike
95. 1493: Uncovering the New World Columbus Created, Charles C. Mann
96. Adult Assembly Required, Abbi Waxman
97. Hello Beautiful, Ann Napolitano
98. The Mysteries, Bill Watterson
99. Love, Holly, Emily Stone
100. Original Grace: An Experiment in Restoration Thinking, Adam S. Miller
101. The Last Russian Doll, Kristen Loesch
102. The Christmas Bookshop, Jenny Colgan
103. Long Chills and Case Dough, Brandon Sanderson
104. Happiness Falls, Angie Kim
105. A Winter in New York
106. Mr. Dickens and His Carol, Samantha Silva
107. Cytonic, Brandon Sanderson
108. Burning Questions, Margaret Atwood
109. Elon Musk, Walter Isaacson (DNF)

Previous book recaps

2020
2019
2018
2017
2016
2015
2014
2013
2012

A case for two types of vacations

I recently returned from a vacation to Maine with most of my family. Getting 11 people, ages 4 to 60 with varying levels of adventurousness and budget constraints, to agree on the same itinerary is nigh unto impossible, so we didn't attempt it.

Instead, everyone kind of did what they wanted to do, switching groups (or breaking off alone) as necessary. Two main vacation strategies emerged from this shuffle, resulting in two very different trips that took place at the same time, same place.

Vacation type 1: Rest and relaxation

We've all fantasized about perfect getaways when life wears us out. And I think for a lot of us, that getaway involves a whole lot of peace and quiet. Preferably somewhere pretty with reasonable temperatures.

For me, that "someplace pretty" looks a lot like this: tucked away from the world and surrounded by trees.

For those of us with R&R at the top of our vacation wishlists, Maine delivered. 

Imagine waking up to this view just outside your bedroom window every day. It's a lot better than looking at the back of your neighbor's house, that's for sure.

All I need for some good R&R is a cozy reading spot. This house had several. (A word to the wise: if you ever decide to Airbnb your house, a library is always a good idea.)

For those wondering, I read four books on this trip. Started and finished two and read about half of two others, totaling to about 1,100 pages. Complete and total book nerd wish fulfillment right there.

The hammock was also a popular reading spot, but it was hard to get a turn on it unless your name was Shannan.

Of course, relaxation doesn't have to take place indoors. One of the great things about Maine is that you don't have to choose between a mountain or beach for your relaxation. You get the best of both worlds in the same spot.

Your R&R will come to a painful end if you try to get in the freezing water though. But if the sound of the rushing waves is your jam, you can get that here.

I never really got used to being able to see the ocean from the mountains. It was a difficult concept for my desert brain to compute.

My number one priority in Maine, however, was to eat well. Because even the well rested needs to refuel. The food lived up to the hype and forever ruined me for normal food. Everything I've eaten since then has been disappointing.

It's okay to slow down for vacation and just rest. Sometimes that's what we need most from our hard-earned vacation days: a chance to heal.

Vacation type 2: Adventuring

If taking it easy sounds like a waste of your time off, might I offer another suggestion: adventures from sun-up till sun-down. After all, if you're going to visit a new place, you might as well explore every inch that you can and do stuff you wouldn't be able to do at home.

While I'm more the type to find great joy from staying home, I'm up for the occasional adventure. So I joined the Searles (aka, the adventure crew) for one of their hikes. Which basically amounted to rock climbing. Something I, a scaredy cat about heights, have never enjoyed.

I told myself that if my 8-year-old nephew could do it, then I could. Even though, let's be honest, my nephews are way braver than I am. But that mantra helped me hold on to some of my dignity while I was clinging to the hand rails.

I'm still a little mystified that I not only got through the hike, I enjoyed. Like, it was a highlight of the trip for me. Maybe it was because it wasn't a very tall mountain. Maybe it was because I always had something to hang on to. Maybe I was just too focused on climbing over boulders to ever look down and think about falling. 

The only regret from this trip is that we were there a few weeks too early for New England's famous fall leaves. But we saw more colors from this elevation than we did anywhere else.

Of course, any time we got to a spot that allowed us to spread out and take a break, I stayed as far away from the edge as possible. You don't have to stand at the edge of a cliff to enjoy a view, after all.

The Searles might disagree with that statement, but I stand by what I said. Where it's safe. Away from the edge.

I went on a couple hikes during girls camp that made me hate hiking, but after 20 years or so I've forgiven my young women leaders for their unintended lies about "easy" hikes and have been more open to the idea lately. After this hike, I was ready to go home and make it my new hobby.

Adventuring is about more than facing your fears, though. Sometimes all you need to do is explore. The Searles' exploration escapades led them to Thunder Hole, which is a hole in a rock that empties and fills up with water for all of eternity and makes a crash like thunder whenever a big wave comes in. It's mesmerizing to watch.

Hard to photograph properly, though.

This little spot had lots more boulders for my rock-climbing nephews to master, but by then my adventuring mood was waning with the sun, so I sat back to enjoy the view, ready to go back to my R&R sanctuary.

An attempt to compromise

There was one activity the relaxers, adventurers, and hermits all wanted to do: whale watching. But alas, it wasn't meant to be. Our first tour was canceled because the ocean was still too tumultuous from Hurricane Lee, and our second was canceled because the boat broke down. (While we were on it, might I add. But they turned around and took us back to the harbor before things could get interesting.)

Waiting for the boat to take off was thrilling.

The verdict

You've probably already picked a side regarding which type of vacation is best. But, as someone who did it both ways on this trip, I'm here to tell you that they're both great. And if you're looking for a place that appeals to lots of different personalities, I would give Bar Harbor, Maine 5 stars.

A temple for Saratoga Springs

Eight years ago, I watched from a distance as my secondary hometown, Payson, Utah, got a new temple. I attended the ground-breaking, open house, and dedication, so I suppose I was a more active participant than "watching from a distance" lets on, but I knew this wouldn't be a temple I visited regularly. When you live in Utah, an hour is more than most of us are willing to drive to get to a Latter-day Saint temple.

A few years later, another temple was announced for Utah County: Saratoga Springs. I lived in Midvale at the time and was happy to hear that new temples were getting a little closer to Salt Lake County (my temple, Jordan River, was always insanely busy), but didn't know at the time that this would one day be my hometown temple.

Construction started making real progress in 2020, after I'd lived in Eagle Mountain for two years and had made the field that separated the temple from my neighborhood one of my walking routes. 

I've been dreading the extra traffic on Redwood this temple will bring, but it's easy to see why they picked this spot for the temple. The view of the lake and mountains is spectacular.

While we were stuck in COVID limbo, construction on the Saratoga Springs Temple was one of the only things in my life that was progressing at all. Once those walls started to go up, I took a temple selfie every time I was out in that field to mark its progress. Having grown up in a semi-remote town that required a car to get anywhere, living within walking distance of something so majestic made me feel, well, cool. That's when it really started to feel like my temple. 

October 2020. Yes, I was ridiculously late to the wireless headphones party.

After some supply-chain delays, the open house finally started earlier this year, and lasted for 12 weeks, the longest open house in the history of the church. This gave me plenty of opportunities to volunteer. I provided background music in the chapel next door three or four times and served once as a counting usher. Of course I was happy to help with the music, but I was also excited to put one of my other natural gifts to good use as a counting usher: sitting silently in the corner. 

About halfway through the open house, my giant singles ward was split into three. I ended up in one of the new wards, helmed by none other than the guy who was in charge of the ushering committee at the open house, a role that was basically a full-time job and involved working with thousands of volunteers—not to mention visitors—every day. He and his wife got the call right there in the temple.

My entire bishopric, in fact—and their wives—was heavily involved with the open house ushering committee. Amidst the chaos of building a brand new ward from scratch, the bishopric arranged to give our ward a private tour of the temple, which would include walking through rooms that weren't part of the regular tour.

Despite the early start time—7:30 a.m. on a Saturday, before the regular tours started at 9—many of us jumped at the chance. I was especially looking forward to seeing the bride's room and the children's waiting area. (Mom, you would have LOVED the adorable, exquisite table and chairs in the children's waiting room.)

But I soon realized that the bishopric had more in mind than a special VIP tour. This truly was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Many wards do ward temple days, but most have never had the opportunity to book the entire temple for just their ward. To not only look around, but to be instructed and inspired by their leaders, like the early saints had done during Joseph Smith's time. 

We did. 

Seeing the stained glass windows and beautiful artwork (so much artwork!) and intricate architectural details is a sacred experience on its own. But it was the times we gathered together in the larger rooms that I'll remember most years from now. As we sat in a couple of the chapels, a sealing room, and an endowment room, each member of the bishopric and their wives took some time to bear their testimonies and share some of the miracles they had witnessed during the open house. Our brand-new Elder's Quorum and Relief Society presidents shared some thoughts as well. And when we were in the Celestial Room, we sat in silence for about 10 minutes, pondering and soaking in the sweet spirit that surrounded all of us.

It was one of the most spiritual experiences of my life. One of those times where you don't just feel the Holy Ghost on the inside—you feel it outside of you too, in the very air around you. It was a feeling so all-encompassing it took days to wear off completely—I had an unusually good week after that, which are hard to come by in the summer.

If you need help finding me, I'm the one who's having the most trouble keeping my eyes open with the sun blasting us in the face. 

Latter-day Saint temples are more than beautiful edifices. They're not meant to be a status symbol, or a reminder of the church's wealth. They are literal houses of God, where we can feel peace and do work that has eternal significance. Even seeing the Saratoga Springs Temple when I'm driving around or out on my walks gives me hope. Temples dotting the earth are a blessing for everyone, and I'm excited to continue to be a part of the newest one in Saratoga Springs.

Temple lights + supermoon = pure awesomeness

How Harrison Ford became my grandpa

I'm not sure when I first noticed the resemblance. Possibly as early as 2013 when the Ender's Game movie came out, but it was probably around 2015, when all the Star Wars: Episode VII—The Force Awakens hoopla was happening. Harrison Ford was all over the place, in all his silver-haired glory.

In fact, it was the silver hair that finally clued me in to something I hadn't seen before: this man looked an awful lot like my grandpa.

It's true. All of it.

I mentioned the uncanny resemblance to my dad, and he agreed, saying, "He looks a lot like Grandpa Rushton." From his tone, I gathered that he had made this connection decades ago, but I was still reeling somewhat from the realization that one of Hollywood's most recognizable actors looked like someone in my own family. (An uncle and at least one cousin also got the Harrison Ford gene, so his legacy lives on in the Rushton line.) 

The resemblance only grows as Harrison Ford (80) approaches the age my grandpa was when he died (84). This week, I started watching Shrinking on Apple TV, which has been a bizarre experience. My sharpest memories of Grandpa Rushton are from the end of his life, so watching current-day Harrison Ford onscreen is like watching my grandpa live an alternate life, one where he still has Parkinson's but is spared Alzheimer's, and is a therapist into his old age.

What Harrison Ford looks like now.

What Grandpa Rushton looked like then.

Now, you might be thinking that there's some resemblance there. The white hair, obviously. The sort of crooked smile. The similar jaw structure. But it's not like they're identical. 

But that's the funny thing about memory. Our memories change over time, and if you go long enough without seeing someone, you might start thinking you have a special connection to some guy you've never met, simply because he reminds you of someone you've lost.

Malcolm Gladwell did a Revisionist History episode about memory once. He used 9/11, an event everyone over the age of 25 remembers, to illustrate how our memories aren't as reliable as we think they are. 

Researchers conducted surveys of what people remembered about the 9/11 attacks. They compiled their first set of answers a week after the attacks, then again a year after, three years after, and 10 years after. And while people were confident that their memories of that day were accurate, the data told a different story. Often, the accounts from the first week were different from accounts documented years later.

I've seen this phenomena play out in my life. My brother said for years that he got in his infamous bike accident on 9/11. He crashed his bike, the road scuffed up his face, our neighbor rescued him, and then he drank bean and bacon soup through a straw until the swelling in his bottom lip went down.

His telling never seemed quite right to me though, so I dug out my journal from that day and had one of my very first "Well, actually" moments. Because I documented this traumatic event the day it happened, I captured important details my brother hadn't retained—like the date. It was the following Tuesday, September 18, not September 11. He probably just saw the Two Towers news coverage on TV at our neighbor's house and merged the two events together.

Grandpa Rushton died when I was 18, and I don't remember a whole lot from before he had Alzheimer's. Still, he's a solid presence in a lot of memories of Christmas parties, 4th of July gatherings, and softball games (he had an umbrella hat!).

But sometimes I think I might be merging my memories of Grandpa Rushton with his real-life doppelgänger. Was Grandpa actually a crusty old guy, or do I only think that because some guy who looks like him often plays the crusty old guy on TV? Did Grandpa Rushton actually have a crooked smile, or is Harrison Ford's smile just filling in the holes in my memory? Was Grandpa Rushton really the kind of person who makes snarky comments, or do I just think that because I've seen Harrison Ford make snarky comments in interviews?

It can be hard to separate the two, but I think I've come to a compromise. I have four grandpas now, not three. Grandpa Rushton, Grandpa Jackson, Grandpa Bill . . . and Harrison Ford.

A gift that never expires

A few years ago, my sister invited me over to her house for dinner. When I arrived, my nephew answered the door. He looked up at me with his big blue eyes and said, "You were gone too long."

It had been eight days. A blink-and-you'll-miss-it amount of time for me, but a long wait for a three-year-old.

I've thought about this moment a lot since then. And not just because it's one of the sweetest things a niece or nephew has ever said to me. It reminds me of the kind of love our Father in Heaven has for us. 

My relationship with God is, in many ways, a relationship like any other. I update him on my life. Ask for favors. Tell him I need my space. Get frustrated about our communication issues. 

It's also unlike any other relationship I've had. God asks far more of me than anyone else does. He's always trying to teach me a lesson and is often slow to answer prayers, which leads to a lot of resentment and anger on my end. Sometimes it feels like the only healthy thing to do is break up with him and strike out on my own. Find new friends who don't make me work so hard.

I always end up coming back, though. I agree with what Pres. Russell M. Nelson said at the October 2022 General Conference: "The truth is that it is much more exhausting to seek happiness where you can never find it! However, when you yoke yourself to Jesus Christ and do the spiritual work required to overcome the world, He, and He alone, does have the power to lift you above the pull of this world."

The coolest part of having a relationship with God is that he doesn't care how many times we've cast him off. He's not keeping track of how many chances we have left. He doesn't get annoyed that the lessons he's trying to teach us don't seem to stick for long.

And he notices how long we've been gone, even if we don't. And for him, it's always too long, even though he understands why we're keeping our distance.

So like my nephew did that day, he waits at the door for our knock. And when that knock finally comes, he opens the door right away. Not with a rebuke and an "I told you so," but with a hug and an invitation to sit by him at the dinner table.

We're not perfect, but God's love for us is. There aren't a lot of things we can count on in this world, but God's love is a gift that never expires.

828 days

The last time I updated this blog, we were all talking about the results of the 2020 election and the Covid vaccine, which wasn't yet available for the general public. I was eagerly awaiting the season 2 premiere of Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist and preparing myself to return to an unfulfilling job after a rejuvenating Christmas break. It was the day before my last grandparent died and a week before I found my first gray hair.

I didn't expect to come back.

In fact, last summer I officially declared my blog dead. Cause of death: not enough creativity and passion to keep it going. I was no longer a person who wrote for fun. So I compiled the last few years of posts into a book to store next to my other blog books, a relic of my past that I could remember fondly but couldn't revive.

I like to blame Covid for killing my creative mojo, but it really started about a year earlier due to a job that was sucking the life out of me. Then Covid came along and finished the job. Career angst followed by a pandemic did a real number on my mental health, and after a while I accepted that I was permanently altered. I had evolved to be the type of person who enjoys others' creations but doesn't create any of my own. 

Halfway through 2021, things started to get better. The world was opening up again, adding some much-needed variety to my life that had become a comfortable form of solitary confinement. I got a new job that was enjoyable and fulfilling, with management that valued me for my strengths rather than dismissed me because of my weaknesses. I went back to a singles ward.

I made the changes I needed to get my life back on track, and my life significantly improved. I was more well-rested than I'd ever been as an adult due to my work-from-home lifestyle. I went on a few dates. My hair may have started turning gray, but it was also curlier than ever due to not needing to straighten it into submission as often. I could watch sports with real people in the background rather than cardboard cut-outs and glitchy Zoom attendees. 

While all of this improved my mental state, it wasn't enough to re-light that creative spark. I could do enough to stay employed, but nothing more. Which wasn't the worst side effect of two years of pandemic living, all things considered. I was painfully aware of how much worse things could be, so I accepted that I had different priorities now and moved on.  

Things continued to improve in 2022. After my carefully-thought-out New Year's resolutions in 2020 were blown to bits, I was hesitant to make optimistic plans again, but I did make one resolution for 2022: spend less time alone. 

So I joined my ward choir. I dubbed Wednesday my mandatory, midweek get-out-of-the-house day, which usually involved either going in to the office or going out to lunch. I became a regular at institute. I tried to take advantage of the fact that my whole family lives within an hour's drive of me and, like, hang out with them more. 

I did big things, too. I signed up for BYU's organ workshop so I could check "learn to play the organ" off my bucket list, and basically had the best week of my life pretending to be a BYU student again. (This is what book nerds do for fun when they aren't reading.) I joined the Stadium of Fire Chorus partly so I'd get a free ticket to see Tim McGraw, partly so I could use "I was once a backup singer for Marie Osmond" the next time I got roped into a Two Truths and a Lie game, and partly to stay busy so I could stay on top of my seasonal depression tendencies. (I am one of those special people who gets it during the summer, rather than the winter.) I went on vacation with my family and checked off another item on my bucket list: "go river rafting." (This was sadly a disappointing experience. I think everyone in my party would agree that it was a huge pain in the butt.) I went on a few more dates, tried a few new dating apps, and then swore off dating apps forever for the 80th time. 

I was happier than I'd been in years, and that little creative spark even flickered from time to time. My boss's comments on my writing at work changed from "You're a great technical writer, but can you make this more exciting/creative?" to "Looks good!" on pretty much everything. I started entertaining the possibility of starting a brand new blog, one with an actual focus and a URL that makes sense to people outside my family.

Of course, this put me up against an old foe of mine: laziness. Starting a new website is a lot of work; I didn't have the energy for that and the writing. So, again, I accepted that I wasn't really a creative person anymore anyway, and focused on the good thing my life had become despite what I lost during Covid.

Which brings me to 2023. So far, my only real complaint about this year has been the always-winter-and-never-Christmas time warp we're stuck in. Like, this week ski resorts in Utah had to close because there was too much snow. In APRIL. Usually snow makes me positively giddy, but breaking all the records this winter kind of broke me too.

But while I've been bundled up for cold evening walks or enduring more treadmill workouts of doom in my depressing basement, I've noticed something a little different about myself the past few months. I spend more time thinking about all the things than I do listening to my favorite podcasts, the ones I'm only allowed to listen to when I work out. Even more annoyingly, I've been losing sleep at night because my brain won't stop constructing sentences and paragraphs out of all those thoughts.

I haven't felt this way in years. It was all this overthinking, in fact, that inspired me to start this blog in the first place, 13 years ago. I told people it was meant to be a creative outlet, but I really just needed something to help me sleep at night.  

Last night as I was ruminating on my creative journey the past few years (and definitely NOT sleeping), I felt like I was reverting back to my fresh-from-college self. But it didn't feel like backsliding. It was more like my brain was demanding that I make room for something I used to love, now that it doesn't have to work so hard to keep me mentally neutral.

A lot can happen in 828 days. You can lose a part of yourself, grow in other ways to fill the void, and then bring something you thought was gone for good back to life.

So here I am, back in the blogging space. It may not be the most sophisticated platform, it may not be the most relevant or respectable hobby, but I'm reclaiming this space anyway. Not just because my journal is no longer cutting it as a way to get thoughts out of my head, but because writing has, against all odds, become fun again. As in, you-don't-have-to-pay-me-to-do-this fun. 

It's a nice feeling. One that I hope lasts.