Curriculum Vit​ae : that's Latin for all about Mrs. Tyler

I graduated from BYU with a degree in English Writing and Rhetoric a long time ago.
I earned my teaching certificate at UVU.
I have taught American literature, British literature, world literature, advanced writing, creative writing, English language development (ESL), reading, and yearbook.
I am a fellow (graduate) of the Central Utah Writing Project.
I am a published writer and a dedicated blogger. 
I present at and attend state and national conferences.
I have two endorsements: reading and teaching English as a second language.
I grew up on a ranch in Arizona where I did not have TV reception or many books in my house. Yes, this is true.
I love to travel! I've been to almost every state in the US, Canada, Mexico, Ecuador, Peru, England, Scotland, and Spain. My next big trip will probably be to Germany.
I'm married to a computer scientist/gaming nerd, and I have five children--two boys and three girls. I have two adorable granddaughters and a super cute dog!
​Last of all, I'm a serious writer and a reader. Here is a link to my Goodreads account, and I've shared some writing below.


​Gifting from the Comfort of Your Home

There are two things in life that I truly hate: calling people on the phone and shopping in the mall at Christmas time. Some people find it exhilarating and exciting to shop at malls when they are wall-to-wall people--I am not one them. I don't like being jostled, I don't like noise, and I most definitely don't like waiting in lines.
Because of this, I have become a dedicated internet shopper. There is something intrinsically exciting about getting packages in the mail. Someone has to do something to keep the postal service in business, right? 
Of course there are a few downsides to internet shopping--the shipping can be expensive, the clothes occasionally don't fit, and you have to do something with all those boxes. Speaking of boxes, I like to break mine down and get them into the recycle bin before anyone notices that I just got another eleven boxes in the mail. Heck, internet shopping is the reason I HAVE a recycle bin.
However, once you have destroyed the evidence, you are still faced with the dilemma of where to store the contents of said eleven boxes. If you follow my concept of complete anti-surprise, you will just leave the contents out on the counter, and the recipients have to pretend to be surprised when they show up in their birthday/Christmas package a week later.
The real problem surfaces when the items you just ordered from the internet don't fit, or even worse but occasionally true, are rejected out of hand by the giftees. You are then faced with two choices: stand in a long line at the post office to mail them back, usually on your dime, or take them back to the mall/store where you will have to deal with crowds, lines, and noise.
Really, when it comes to shopping for gifts, it's a lose-lose world.

​Candy and Me

Never for me the siren call of chocolate or licorice or gumdrops. Sweetness is not my friend. Give me sour, really sour, and please make it lasting. I despise candies that tease you with a sour burst before betraying it with a middle of unsatisfying bland sweetness. I prefer a sourness that lasts all the way through. 
As a child, I satisfied this lust with Jolly Roger sticks, purchased for ten cents at the movie theater. One stick carefully peeled would last for an entire movie. As you licked and licked, the stick would slowly bend until you had a lovely curl just before it became so thin you could see through it and then it broke off in your mouth, giving you a quick burst of overwhelming sourness.
As I grew, I skipped the candy altogether and went right to the mother ship. I began eating lemons, not with sugar but with a little salt on them. Oh those were heavenly days, tucked up in a corner of our ranch house, curled up with a good book and lemons with salt. I still have some of my favorite books from my childhood, and all of them have yellow stains on the page from errant drips of lemony-salty goodness.
As an adult, I am facing some of the ravages of a sugar coated and lemon juice filled childhood. I have had more than my share of large cavities, root canals, and caps on my teeth. Sometimes I even have nightmares that all my teeth are falling out. I've had to give up all candy binges, and my teeth are far too sensitive to indulge in lemons. Luckily I'll always have the honeyed memories of a sweet childhood full of blissful sourness.

​The Beach Chair Test

They say that confession is good for the soul, and mine can use all the help it can get, so I have something fairly shocking to tell the world. Are you sitting down? Are you listening? Here goes.
I didn’t wash my car last year.
Isn’t that awful? What’s worse is this: I don’t intend to wash it this year either. Isn’t that terrible? And to make it even worse, I haven’t washed my car for at least two years. The last time I remember washing my car was when the local high school did it for free.
Washing my car is one of the things I don’t do because it doesn’t pass my beach chair test. When I’m old and relaxing at the beach and looking back at my life, I’m not going to be saying: “Geez, I wish I’d spent more time washing my car. If I had driven around town and up to work every day in a sparkly clean car, my life would have been complete.”
Applying my beach test keeps me from doing a lot of supposedly useful things from dusting furniture to holding a grudge to decorating for the holidays. That’s not to say I never do those things, because I do. It’s just that I give myself permission to let things slide once in a while (well, maybe even more than that, but who’s counting). Every year I put up fewer and fewer Christmas decorations. And you know, I never regret it. When I’m able to spend the days after Christmas relaxing and enjoying and doing things with my family rather than rolling up thousand of tiny little white lights, then I don’t mind that my house doesn’t look like it dropped right out of the Christmas issue of Martha Stewart Living.
The best thing my chair test does is to remind me that it’s better to do things than to own things. I may wish I had taken more trips, gone to more plays, attended more live concerts. As I look back, I remember the time and people and places and not the dollar signs. It’s not likely that I’ll be thinking, “I wish I’d bought a bigger house and a fancier car.”
Above all else, the chair test is personal. A thing that flunks my test may be the number one thing you’ll reach for from your beach chair, even before the little drink with the umbrella in it. And that’s the beauty of the test—it guarantees that you always get what you really want. And I believe that determining and reaching for what you really want is both the beginning and the end of this little vacation we call life.