Friday, March 31, 2006
I read such a funny post on Sue's Blog entitled, "My Child, Lac Lavon". Sue has such a way with the written word. She cracks me up. A lot. I almost had tears, I tell you.
The post started me thinking about all the names in my life and their impact. Names mean a WHOLE LOT. Especially where I live.
Utah is a freaking name DISASTER. Lac Lavon would fit in quite nicely here.
For such straight-laced people, we have a whole lot of funky goin' on in the name sector.
Here are some examples of "Utah Names": Earldean, Odonna, Deverle, O'lea, Delecta,Woodruff,Desereta, Normalene, DeLaVern, LaVannah and Leahona.
My own Aunts and Uncles (The Ents that I love) have unusual names, although I don't know if this is because they are Mormon or if it is that their parents were just, "Paul" and "Susie". Maybe it is because they lived in a tiny East Texas community where there wasn't a lot to do at the turn of the century and they needed some excitement. Who knows?
Rowen (Who is married to Verdeena)
And my mother. Her first name is Katherine. Does she go by that? Nah. She goes by her middle name, La Ree.
A good friend of mine thought their names were so fabulous she named her two goldfish, "Leotha and Verdeena"
I can't help but think that all my own siblings have a much better end of the deal than I do:
He DOES have the middle name "Ervin" after my grandfather, though. I LOVE Rhett's name. I would have named James "Rhett". My last name was, "Burnett", and people freaked about it, so I had to settle for using it as a middle name.
Can you tell my dad has a love of Gone With The Wind? Funnier is my nephew Jeff, married a Margaret. So, she is 'Margaret Mitchell'. Heh.
Hmm. Now that I think about it, I'm not really sure why they named her this...I've never heard the story
My second boy is Christopher Bradley. I also love the name
Then there are the twins. SIGH.
LORALEE AND LORAINA.
My Dad wanted us to be, "Scarlett" and "Vivian". My mother put her foot down. Personally, I think either of these names would have suited me better than LORALEE???!?!!!
I bitch, but my twin (Who you will hear about one day) really did get the shaft more than I did.
My sister, Melly HATED the name Loraina. She was only 12 at the time and to appease her, my mom said she could pick which of us got named what. Poor Loraina was born first and COMPLETELY hammered and scary looking, so Melly gave her the name. My mom (Loraina, too, for that matter) were not too happy when they found out.
It probably didn't help that my brother, Brad, and I found out Loraina HATED the name Rachelle when we were young. Of course, we made up the world's most annoying taunt to chase her around the house with- "Loraina, Loraina, Loraina Rachelle". Again, my mother was not pleased. "Don't you call your sister, Rachelle!"
Last names carry weight as well. My maiden name is, Loralee Mitchell. I married, and became, Loralee Burnett. I married again and am Loralee Choate. I have enjoyed all my names, but "Mitchell" is my favorite. It flows well, and telemarketers don't ask to speak to Mrs. Chawatay. I also never received ATM cards stamped with "Loralee Goat" as a Mitchell and certainly never had to deal with insurance cards that said, "Jonathan O'Cheet" as a Burnett.
My first husband's name was Gideon Wedekind Burnett though so we had first name weirdness there. One package came to "GUDON" and that essentially became his nickname in my family.
Wow, that is a good segue into the whole "Nickname" category!
My nicknames say a whole lot about me:
PEE (At least I didn't get saddled with POO. Loraina really DID get more shafted than me)
The Sister (My brother, Brad, is "The Brother")
Tsunami (You all get this now, don't you!)
Schlamatzle (For "Accident Prone")
Rubic's Cube (My new favorite! Thanks, Tim!)
Jonathan and my children's nicknames also mean a lot:
James: Caterpillar (He was in a movement class for toddlers (NO IT WAS NOT MODERN DANCE, RHETT!) and I walked into him buried under blankets on the floor. I asked him what he was doing. "Oh, you know...just being a sleepy little caterpillar, momma." SO CUTE.
He has outgrown it and it has been replaced with "Son" and "Festivus". They both weirdly suit him.
Christopher: "Christophee" and "Pookey"
Matthew: "Little Bug" which became just "Bug". Everyone knows how much this name meant to me.
Jonathan is "SweetPea". He calls me, "Baby Girl", which I love.
My father also gave us all bizarre nicknames:
Rhett-Rhett Ski and "Bully". Why? Don't know...
Brad-Bradley Blue Eyes, which was shortened to "Blue"
Loraina-"Loraina M'raina", "Raina", "Punzelle" and "Anna Maria Stanzetti" (My.Dad.is.weird)
Loralee- Darlin' Jill. Which is just "Jill".
My father names EVERYTHING. Oatmeal cookies are "Gilda's" if they have Cocoa in them they become "Gorilla's".
There was quite a nosy neighbor that used to live in my parent's neighborhood. My father always, ALWAYS called her "VAL". One day "Val" made the comment: "I don't think that your father knows my name isn't "Val"
ALL of us have more tact than to tell her "Val" is short for "Valkyrie Maiden".
I have had my share of name intrigue and near disaster.
Jonathan had been trying to date me and I just couldn't see it happening. THEN. We played a game at my house where you write down answers to questions and someone has to put answers with people.
The Question: What would you name your Estate or Mansion?
NO ONE suspect Jon of having the answer that he did.
I laughed my ass off. SO unexpected. I also LOVE "Anne of Green Gables" so not only did I "Get it", I just laughed and laughed and laughed that he could be so funny, charming and unexpected. It made me look at him in a new light.
As for the near disasters: My first husband wanted to name James "Phineus" from "A Separate Peace". Two weeks before he was born he gave into "James". I named our new computer Phineus so that the name would be "Taken".
I actually did think about naming Matthew, Sebastian, but everyone freaked. Jon wouldn't let me have my beloved Jack or Oliver. Matthew wasn't really "GREAT" for either of us, but it was the only male name we both didn't gag at.
If we ever have a girl, she is LILY. Not even a question.
If we ever have another boy I have no idea WHAT we'll do.
If only Jon's uncle hadn't already used "Raymond Rufus Lancelot Choate"...
Me hanging on to the past like a thirteen-year-old REALLY lands me in suckasuckasuck situations.
1. I was unable to bring myself to delete a certain person's number from my phone book. Then I forgot about it either way.
2 .Lost Cell Phone.
3. Received phone call from my cell phone.
4. Left cell phone at movie theater when seeing "World's Fastest Indian".
5. Helpful theater employee's began calling the numbers in my phone book to tell me about phone.
6. Certain Person's name begins with "A".
7. No, you do not need me to tell you the rest of this story.
8. Yes, it was as horrifying as you would imagine.
9. No, it is no longer in aforementioned phone book.
10. Yes, I am going to go lay under the covers and remind myself that if I had grown the freak up sooner, this would never have happened.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Hey, guys. I want to take a quick sec and introduce my good friend "Emme".
She is the first and only "Friend" I have ever had that I met in church (So this says a lot).
When Matthew died, she took care of so many things...Including a huge luncheon for my family afterwards.
We actually work together because she called me up a month or so ago:
HER:"Hey! Want a job?"
ME:"Sure. Why the hell not?"
She has helped me through the muck with Jonathan and Adam, and I, in turn, have been helping her with her stuff.
She is 52 but her soul is young!
Her almost ex-husband is a slime bucket. Having "been there" I can say that I now know at least one individual who makes me feel pretty damn good about myself. HE S-U-K-S. Mean people suck and he is campaigning to be their President, apparently.
I suggested blogging as wonderful therapy and a way to write out frustrations AND to concentrate on good things to counteract the bad. It's workin' for me! I bet it will work for her too.
Plus, you meet the coolest people.
I guess if blogging doesn't help, the sky-diving we are participating in on April 22nd for her birthday most certainly will!!! WOO HOO!
Anyway...I love her.
Man, March was a toughie to pick from! A lot of this is that I have written "Biographies" of a lot of my history.
What to do?
Since I have never really been a stickler for rules, I figured that I would follow true "Loralee Style" and bend some so I divided it into Categories.
TOP 5- The Funny Ones
1. An Undercover Drug Bust That FAILED
2.The Suck of Being Duh
3.The Stalking of Bemidji State
5.The Truthiness of the Tooth Fairy
TOP 5-The Serious
Honorable Mentions (Both):
I went to my brother, Rhett's last night. All my siblings attended. I find it unfair that one sibling I wanted in this picture TOOK the picture and another one (Who shall remain nameless for now) had to be cajoled and begged to grace us with a photograph...the more things change the more they stay the same. You were right, Little Amy.
My brother, Brad and his wife, Candy discovered that they are having a little boy!!!! I am so stoked for him. Babies Rock. Brad was also allowed to bring his daughter from a previous marraige. Sierra. I about fell over that she was allowed to come. I haven't seen her since Matthew's Funeral. Not my brother's fault. Mom's and dad's who take bitterness of divorce out on their children SUCK. That is all I have to say.
I am pleased to report that my nephew, Craig has acquired fabulous Dance Dance Revolution "Skills" and can now play something other than the first seven chords of "Smoke on the Water" on his guitar. For which, we are all grateful.
My kick-ass cop nephew, Jeff, and his family go back to California tomorrow. :(
I am seriously going to miss my great-nephew, Jaden (Here, with niece Roo). He is going to star in "Oliver" one day, mark my words.
It was nice to see everyone and I love going to Provo to see my brother, even if it is a 2 hour drive one way. WORTH IT.
Nancy ("NOONCY") was as devastated as I that my battery died as I was going to take a picture of the famed Tetherball court from Napoleon Dynamite for my blog, so she presented me with an extra battery.
I had no idea what it was. Did I act my age and say, "Hey! Cool! What is this?"
Oh, NO. That would be too normal for me! In Classic, Loralee-knee-jerk-LIES-To-Cover-Ass/Stupidity-That-NEVER-Turns-Out-Well-And-I-Should-Have-Learned-This-By-Now, style...
I oohed and awweed and prayed to God that I could figure out what the hell it was before she asked me any specific questions about it. I knew I would like it and if Nooncy gave it to me it was top quality and something I needed.
I am just a dork.
A technical-lame dork with really fugly eyebrows at the moment. I do NOT know how I am going to walk around the 6 days until I am scheduled to go and get them ripped off my forehead.
CAN you tell me how to get to Sesame Street? I have a feeling I'd blend in there better...
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Dedicated to Bryan Woolley who saw me through this and HAWAII...And to Little Amy. I should have told them to shove their scholarship and attended your wedding.
I love Vancouver, B.C. Probably one of my favorite cities, actually. Great air, mountains, water, architecture, scenery, shopping, theater, dining, and one hell of a symphony.
I've performed there several times. There was one trip in particular that well... Sucked. It SUCKED. Oh, and did I mention IT SUCKED?
***Mainly, just laugh. I do!***
I have received several requests for this story (Blogger ate the original and I have been in protest for a week or so), so here it goes.
***Yes, this all happened. Luckily, many can vouch for me. I paid attention to the "Million Little Pieces Fiasco". With the exception of small, dramatic licence from time to time, what I say here happened. I just have a weird life and I'm accident prone...being bipolar probably doesn't help matters! ;D
I believe this was either my second or third trip to Vancouver. It was in 1996.
When we flew out, it was discovered that my maiden name was on the plane ticket, not my married name. I had to have my parents fax my marriage certificate to SLC airport before they would let me on the plane.
We flew into Seattle and bussed the two hours up to Vancouver. Half our group has their rooms ready. The other half had to wait for FOUR hours in the lobby because a horde of bitchy Swiss Stewardesses had their planes delayed and refused to vacate the premises.
Guess which group I was in!
There weren't even any drinking fountains. The hotel was 'gracious' enough to let us sit on the floor and gave us a coupon for a small soda.
After a LONG rehearsal, I went into the elevator with a friend so she could drop off her music in her room before we went shopping. She was coming back and I stuck my hand out to stop the doors. Most elevator doors have a sensor that springs it open, right? This one clamped down like a VICE on my upper arm. I was also wearing a leather jacket so I couldn't get it out. IT HURT LIKE A MOTHER.
I started screaming, my friend started screaming, two little old ladies started screaming because no one could pry the door open. Two more little old ladies joined in and finally got it open. I had a horrific purple and yellow bruise all the way around my arm. I could hardly move it.
The hotel gave me another soda coupon.
The next day was the concert. As I was going in to The Orpheum (GORGEOUS hall) I got splashed on by a taxi. My dress was soaked. I was like the poor person you see at Magic Mountain who takes the brunt of the tidal wave and their companions have their sneakers a bit damp. NICE.
I got lost after trying to dry off in the bathroom and went into the Symphony Green Room on accident. Wanna piss of a union musician? GO INTO THEIR GREEN ROOM. I thought the concert master was going to put his bow through my eyeball. Probably would have except that it most likely cost more than his car.
The concert was wonderful, thank goodness.
The next day we went to Victoria on Vancouver Island. First stop? Buchart Gardens. SO lovely. I go every chance I can. It would have been peachy except I was wearing platform shoes and tripped on the stepping stones of the Japanese Pond and landed in gross water. This meant I had to walk in wet jeans for the next 4 hours in cold weather.
After the gardens we hit the hotel pool. We had so much fun until the time I got out of the pool and wrapped a towel tightly in a "Turban". One of my friends, Steve, thought it would be fun to chuck me into the deep end of the pool.
It would have been fun except...
I had been in a car accident the month before and had herniated some disks in my back and neck. Because of the injury and the weight of the wet towel, I couldn't lift my head out of the water. I tried to get the towel off but it was so wrapped so tight and wet I couldn't work it out of the turban.
It took a while for everyone to realize that Loralee.was.not.kidding.around.
Steve rescued me, I calmed down from the trauma and barfed a bit of water. I was okay. I went up to take a shower before dinner. I shampooed and rinsed. I always keep my eyes closed between shampoo and conditioning. I think it is because my mother used to rinse my hair with vinegar in between when I was a kid.
So, eyes shut, I reached down rather fast to grab the conditioner and BAM!!!!!
Um...In this particular hotel the soap holder was jutting out of the wall at chin level, NOT at the bottom of the tub. It also had sharp corners.
Head wounds bleed a lot.
I went to dinner that night with a nasty cut and a goose egg the size of my fist. Really attractive. At the restaurant, a guy named, Dan, accidently dumped his hot shrimp scampi in my lap. Extra garlic. Yum.
After dinner everyone wanted to go to a club.
It was PACKED. The noise was really loud and you couldn't see for the smoke. I had a small solo the next day for another small concert we had and my throat was starting to feel really raw and my head hurt. So I went outside to wait for everyone to be ready to leave.
It was really peaceful and gorgeous! I walked back and forth, looking at the water and the amazing night sky.
A cab pulled up and my friend, Steve (From the pool) got out. I went over to talk to him.
As we were talking, two bouncers came out, followed by some people in our group.
Them: You guys are going to have to leave the premises.
Them: Look, if you want to make a date, you need to go somewhere else.
Steve: You have it wrong, here.
Them: Don't wanna hear it, just leave.
I am sitting there thinking, "Date? HUH? I'm married with an infant and Steve is gay...No date here, people. Why is their business anyway?"
Steve took me by the arm and said, "Let's go, hon."
The others walked with us. I kept asking what the hell was going on and Steve said he would explain "Later". We were almost back to our hotel when he said:
"Those guys thought you were a prostitute."
I looked at the other people.
"Yah. He's right. We heard them talking inside about kicking a ho off the premises so we came out to get a peek. and. we. saw. you."
Uhh...Besides that fact that I was lookin' really hot with my elephantitus head wound, I was wearing jeans, a freaking sweater twin-set and ARGYEL SOCKS. All the rage in hooker attire, doncha know?
Steve was calm but firm that I looked like hell and exhausted so this was probably for the best.
At least my solo rocked.
After the concert we headed back to Vancouver.
On the Ferry ride back, my friend Paul and I got lost (Again) and set off an alarm. We freaked and ran and hid...right in the luggage dispersal area. So...when they opened the accordion window covering to allow passengers to grab their luggage, our group was on one side of the counter and we were on the other. YAY. Many people were not happy. Being escorted to the proper place by "Ferry Security" (Snicker) was a treat.
Back in Vancouver, we went to the world's longest/highest suspension bridge. I have gone on this a lot and it isn't so bad anymore, but at the time I was terrified. I am scared of heights. This also means that everyone always jumps to make the bridge sway mercilessly. I actually cried the whole way over. There is the most heavenly grove of cedar trees on the other side though...it was worth it!!
Then the serious/bad occurred.
I was grabbed and shaken by a 6'5 300 lb. man who was employed for the conductor I was working with. He didn't like that I was bothering the conductor so he chose to physically move me out of the way. Beyond the physical damage (My already injured neck hurt for a month) I was humiliated and sobbed as quietly as I could on the way back to our hotel to get our bags. I respected the conductor a lot (At the time) so I didn't take any action as it would have just hurt him. It was quite a topic in the department for quite some time afterward.
I was so upset over it all that, ta da! I left my plane ticket in the hotel and had to pay $800 for a new one.
Our plane was delayed 9 1/2 hours.
They lost my luggage in Salt Lake City.
I had a final in music history the next morning. Luckily, half of our group was in the same boat so they were okay with us getting back late for it.
Sometimes I think that I may very well be the Bastard Spawn of the Number 13 and a den of black cats. Who walk under ladders a lot...And don't throw salt over their shoulders...And say "Macbeth" in theaters...
I have just seen the most touching, heartwarming action packed amazing movie ever.
WORLDS FASTEST INDIAN.
I adore Anthony Hopkins and I cannot remember a role that he has played that I thought he was more born to play. In 1967, New Zealander, Burt Munro set the world speed record at UTAH'S BONNEVILLE SALT FLATS for his class of motorcycle. I've always wanted to see the salt flats, and I will...They're not far. It was so amazing to see his reverence for the place where man has gone the fastest on land.
The trial and dedication...OBSESSION (Yay!) and hard work carries this simple "Dirty Old Man" through his life to his dream. All the while he is cheerful, optimistic, friendly, determined loved by EVERYONE and just...BURT.
I cried and laughed and CHEERED. It got rid of the horrible pit in my stomach I've been lugging around for the last few days.
After the movie Chelle, Brian Joy (Who had not seen each other in TWO months, since our trip to Chelle's condo in Ogden) Karen and I went to IHOP to snarf down food, talk and just have a really good time. We also encountered one of the funniest waiters ever. I think he was a little obsessed with us.
Works for me.
My boys came in from playing in the rain, ecstatic that they got "Braces".
Jelly bracelets are all the orthodontic rage, dontcha know...
This is my Dad's dog, Pepper.
Pepper is...well...the most completely annoying dog on the planet.
He is has violent mood swings, he comes unhinged, barks and growls ALL the time and pees everywhere. My Dad adores him. Pepper gets away with peeing on the antiques. Those who know me know exactly what this means.
He growls at strangers and people he knows, he freaks if people try to come in and again when they leave.
He is very loyal though and can have moments of being a very good dog. When he is good he is very good, when he is not he is horrid. He is even his own enemy. Or, rather, his tail is. He goes around and round in violent circles trying to rip off it off while growling at it violently. Sort of like this:
Bob adores him. Pepper adores him right back. Most of us cannot stand him. Even my nephew, Craig, who adores ALL animals said, "Pepper is sort of annoying" which is the equivalent of hell freezing over. My dad has threatened to put a codicil in his will that no one will get anything if Pepper is destroyed or dies an unnatural death shortly after he goes.
This may have something to do with the comment I made about practicing the Egyptian custom of burying the pharaoh with his pets...
Pepper does have moments where he can be a very good dog but they are short-lived. He HAS been very good companionship for my Dad, but it we have to listen about Pepper a lot because Bob is also obsessed with his health/nails/grooming/kenneling/etc..
His latest concern is that he is convinced that Pepper has an eating disorder fueled by boredom.
Oh, well. If anyone is in the market for a small, loud dog with questionable bloodlines that has also scared the crap out of a pit bull, let me know.
I like blogging milestones. One guy I read numbers his posts and marks them by milestones...his post "21"...that was a biggie. He also said if he were a woman he would have to name several posts "29" before giving in and finally saying "30". Made me chortle.
I'm going to hit 5,000 page hits today. I know it is not really huge in the blogging world, but since I thought I may have a life time hit of that I am happy.
Cool. Very Cool.
If anyone notices they are the person to load that hit, give a shout out...and remember the words of the 6-fingered-man, "This is for posterity, so...be honest."
I wish I'd known about those little thingy's sooner than February...
Monday, March 27, 2006
I hate blogger lately.
Since this is the third attempt to even save to draft, I'll be brief.
CUTE MOMENTS TODAY:
James (On being educated about the finer points of 80's music):
"So, did they play this music during ancient times mom? Like during the ferocious Gladiator fighting in the Colloseums?"
After asking them to clean their room, I got THIS.
Hulk Hands are the most annoying toy ever. I can't even blame their generous Aunt Nooncy for this purchase. Aunt Nooncy is very skilled at toy buying the kids will freaking ADORE and I will want to bang my head against a wall within moments.
ALTHOUGH...this sparked a memory. Actually, Hulk Hands are the SECOND most annoying toy ever. STINK BLASTERS are the most annoying toy ever created and that I most certainly lay on Aunt Nooncy. Sigh.
EVERY kid should be so lucky should be so lucky to have an Aunt Nooncy. Many do not. It makes me sad.
When it was time for dinner (Jonathan made cinnamon-swirl French Toast. YUM) this was said by my little first grader.
Christopher (On James and his superfast snarfing of food he tries to pass off as "Eating Dinner")
"Momma? I think that brother eats so fast to go watch Cartoons. I am concerned about his digestive pattern and teeth."
Not to bitch or anything, but some days I feel like I'm raising Felix and Oscar from "The Odd Couple".
I am not the type of girl that gets many compliments. Especially from strangers. Just rarely happens. One friend stated it may be because I scare the hell out of people. Hmm...I should work on that.
There are a few areas of my life that I can guarantee that people will remark on.
- They hear me sing, they are usually impressed (Unless they let their dislike of "That kind of sound" interfere). Usually though, just knowing a human that can produce that kinda sound up close usually gets a "Cool" even if they don't like opera. I don't even really dig opera that much and I sing it. Weird, like me. Probably my favorite comment ever is from Little Amy ..."It's like when someone is trying to fake sing opera in the shower...Except you can do it FOR REALS".
- I can be amusing from time to time. People seem to like this blog. When you are physically with me it is sort of like having your own traveling TV show with you. Problem is, you can't mute the damn thing or have any control of how random or frequent the channel surfing is. That can get annoying.
- There was drug-dealing Fernando and his obsession with my fucking eyes but as I tend to try and repress those memories, let's just skip that for now. Adam loved my smile. Let's also skip that one as well. Jonathan loves my boobs, but he also has a penis and as far as I can tell isn't gay, so that is sort of a given.
- At least my PLP loves me. WINK.
The IS one very strange thing that I have been complimented on about 8 or so times by complete strangers. This is just a further illustration of the strangeness of being me. Wanna know the ONE PHYSICAL body part that has been so stunning, weird and unusual it garners comments of adoration from complete strangers???!
Sad, but true.
I have the strangest hairline known to man. It breaks off in little short hairs and is just WEIRD. I have cowlicks and strange waves. I look like crap when trying to pull my hair back in a pony tail because all the little hairs stick up in all directions. This issue will be addressed at my next hair appointment on the 5th.
When I broke my nose and had to have surgery, the nurse told me there was a large argument in the operating room because the surgeon wanted to shave my forehead to put on the T-Bandage. The nurses threatened to harm him...Apparently they liked my hairline enough to intervene.
I've had people at bus stops,random men, co-workers and even a few woman just come up and say they really like my hairline.
The Wigmaker for the Metropolitan Opera Company made a custom wig for me for a production I was in (La Traviata)once and he sent a note stating that my hairline was anything BUT desirable. "Frustrating" was the term he used, I believe. I could tell. My wig (PLATINUM BLONDE...yah...I looked really natural in that) came back with an explosion of little curls clustered at the front and down the sides of my forehead. I looked like a damn poodle.
Oh, well. I guess it is better than people telling me I have a "Sweet Spirit".
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Although the title of my post may bring to mind a sequel to South Park's "Anal Probe" episode, worry not.
"Sitzprobe" is a German word that means to "Sit and Sing" with an orchestra.
It is probably my favorite rehearsal in everything I do. You get to sing with the orchestra (YAY...biggest perk ever...even if they suck) but you don't have to worry about lights, costumes, blah blah blah.
That is the point we're at in "The Messiah". It actually sounds fairly decent. Especially for this tiny community.
We also ran it with the signing chorus. It was rather bizarre at first, but I think this will be really quite cool. They do a great job, I just have to remember to watch the baton and NOT them.
It is also really nice singing with Jonathan again. We haven't done any projects together for a long time, and since singing is how we met, it is just nice.
Just what I needed.
Best way to deal when gross events lead to some sadness (Not as bad as I thought though...yay!) And the beginnings of being slightly pissed off? Well...I'm not sure, but I do know that it seems to be easier if I think about something good and write about it.
My GREAT-NEPHEW Is now ONE YEARS OLD. :D
My nephew, Jeff and his wife Margaret (when she married Jeff, her last name became "Mitchell" heh.) came up for 2 weeks from LA, so we had a birthday party for the sweet little guy.
My sister, Linny is holding him here, but you can't tell because she decided that she was going to be "Incognito" for the day....
As also illustrated in this picture below. Hmmm...my nose kinda looks like Jaquine Phoenix in this shot...either that or sort of "Gargoylesque". Either way, disturbing.
Even the dog was forced to wear a hat.
You know that the day is getting off to a good start when you go to "Gossners Cheese". YUM.
Plus...they had a little "Napoleon Dynamite" moment. They are the ones that provide the boxed milk in the movie. My brother Brad (With his wife, Candy) really needs this shirt. It fits him:
"Are you drinking 1% milk because you think you're fat? Cause you could drink Whole if you wanted".
Cake time ruled, as it always does at these functions. You wouldn't believe the number of cameras present. The kid is probably going to have eyeball damage from the flash.
Once thought extinct, there is now photographic evidence of a male adolecant Quadrahorn in existence. Even more exciting is that he is learning how to drive...May the DMV show mercy. My nephew, Craig is showing great promise at having the weirdo family traits we all seem to share...
Jaden LOVES books. So cute to watch.
I bought Jaden a couple of little outfits. I picked this one because I would have dressed Matthew in bright orange every day of his life if I could, and I knew this would be so cute on the little guy. I was right!
There are many things in my life that come out of nowhere. No one is to blame, there is no fault. I just have strange things occur-both good and bad.
Many things I not only ask for, I tie myself down to the track at 2:58 knowing there is a 3:00 express due to barrel through.
There are scenes from movies where someone receives something in the mail-a package, letter or parcel. The look at it expectantly and then you see a rush of emotion cloud their face, invade their eyes: Fear, anger, confusion, shock and almost without exception...Sorrow.
The shot pans to the package and on the front in red is stamped "Return to Sender. Refused".
Small little word. Big, nasty impact.
I always wondered how I would feel if that ever happened to me because it always seemed to be especially cruel and hurtful or even just having extra...disdain to go to the trouble of sending something back to someone as "Refused". Why not just dispose of it?
I have such a hard time dealing with conflict (Although I create it frequently). I have such difficulty coping knowing there are people who (For whatever reason, just or unjust) despise me.
So...How would I cope with a tangible piece of me branded "REJECTED", when as a viewer I felt so sympathetic for those going through the same ordeal?
Now I know. It is as bad as I could have thought and more.
I have come so far, but the closure alludes me. I have done very crazy things to him(You who have read for a bit know quite a bit about it and I take the blame). He has done very terrible things to me(Which you don't know so much about). I guess this time is no different than all the others. Still doesn't mean I don't regret the things I said, how I acted and what I put him and everyone around me through. I'm finding it difficult to deal with...I guess I needed to say "I'm So Sorry."
I guess the contents of this are not important. They were simple and stupid. One CD with One Song ("For Good" Wicked:The Musical) and a short note. Just...You stayed away. That's good. I don't want a response, I am just trying whatever I can to feel closure that has not come.
I needed to know that I have done everything I can to tell you I am sorry for hurting you and yours. I will be fine. I've taken the good and I'm trying to move on. You may still be wrapped in an armor of anger, I understand. You may be absolutely "Done" and not give a rats now (Obviously)...also understandable...but.one.day.you.may. Keep your fingers crossed closure will be found and I can put this to rest. I think I will because that is all that was left to say.
I erased his address from my email after I sent it. I didn't want to send anything else and I as it is just a bunch of letters and numbers I knew I would never remember it. I guess there are some things that closure just doesn't exist for.
I guess there are some wrongs you can't be forgiven for.
I guess sometimes those thing will simply have to come from inside, or they won't come at all.
Doesn't mean I won't have tears to shed until they do.
***I know this is for the best. I know he is doing exactly as I asked. I know I should have expected this outcome ,I know I brought this on myself. I know this entire relationship sucks and is wrong. This doesn't mean this isn't damn painful. I just needed to cry here. It is my emotional haven.***
Saturday, March 25, 2006
My mother and her sister (My favorite Aunt, "Leotha") have been composing/revising a song since 1976. Translation: A VERY LONG TIME.
We had a lot of family and some of my friends up to Logan to have it professionally recorded for posterity. While it was lovely, it was also S-T-R-E-S-S-F-U-L. Tonight may have finally been "IT" (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE). Let's just say, that a lot of my friends "GET" why I am the way I am now...good and not so good.
I came to the event completely stressed out and looking like I had been sleeping on the streets for two weeks after getting a major beating with the ugly stick.
My mother was a basket case, and many family members couldn't resist commenting their opinions all night long.
My sweet aunt, was lovely as usual. My mother is the baby of 9 (She's 68) and all of them are still alive. They kinda remind me of ENTS...very old, tall and slow speaking. I adore ALL of them.
Aunt Lee said that she didn't think she would be around much longer and she appreciated hearing it recorded in her life (SHE is not going anywhere or I will fall apart).
My twin sister, Loraina (Pink shirt and jacket, also with lame hair today)came as well. She is not doing so well. She is a severe epileptic (among other issues). She used to have an amazing voice and worked for 15 years with Utah Opera. Sadley, her health deteriorated to the point that they had to let her go. VERY sad. One day I may post about her, but she is honestly a very conflicted part of me and my existance and I find talking about it difficult.
The BEST PART! My nephew Jeff (Who is a kick ass cop on the LAPD) is up from California to visit my wonderful brother, Rhett (Who I really kinda wish had been my dad). They brought MY GREAT-NEPHEW, JADEN! I had never seen him before. His first birthday is tomorrow and we are having a party.
Of course, we took to each other immediately. I am a baby freak.
Afterward, we went to dinner with good friends, Bryan and Zach and Chelle and her hubby, John. We had a wonderful discussion mocking D&D, Discussing Crazy People, Parent Organizations, The School Mural (Another Post In Itself)Dogs and Children and of how my hair and clothing suck.Bryan is threatening to put me through his "Beauty Boot Camp".
They are going to have a soiree tomorrow night at their abode. Should be fun. Maybe I'll even wear a bra, lipstick and blow out my hair...
Friday, March 24, 2006
James and his class advanced to compete in the "Geography Bowl" at State Level
He also won the Pinewood Derby for the second year in a row! This is entirely due to James and his father, Gideon as I have the construction/design ability of cheese curd.
Plus, he walked in like this from school today and I sprayed my keyboard with Diet Coke.
I love my boys.
They will be great men.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
This is my friend Amy(With husband and good friend, John). I call her Little Amy because well...she IS. She actually can stand on her first two toes because she has to to reach everything (I WILL buy her point shoes one day...look at those perfect ballet feet. Not fair)
Due to "Stuff" she is the friend that I am in contact with I have known the longest.
We met Freshman year and have been fast friends ever since.
We have been through a lot together. She is the first person that I told (After 5 years of self-torture) the worst thing I had ever done.
She was also present 8 years ago (See Photo...just ignore my horrid chlorine blonde phase) and a participant in the one and only time I ever smoked a joint. That was the evening of my astounding statement, "DUDE! That stuff smells like Burning Weeds".
YES. The reaction was JUST as you imagine.
Brian Joy was there as well, but he "Just Said No" and laughed at me when I did things like inhale a clump of the burning noxious weed into my windpipe. All in all, a weird experience. I knew I would never do it again when I started telling John Louis that he resembled "Jack" from the Titanic. Something Brian Joy never lets me forget.
Amy currently lives in Paris, France and calls herself "Delphine" when fighting cases of injustice.
She has requested...Demanded...that I share a true moment of stupidity from our freshman year.
I.cannot.tell.Little.Amy.NO. (Which is how I ended up riding around on a lame automatic Rascal Scooter in a grocery store at 2 am while her husband and Brian Joy put boxes in my way as an obstical course and she took pictures with a disposable fun camera. Believe it or not, that was the only thing she wanted from me as a going away present before she moved to New York. Weird, but true. That is another story, however.)
I REALLY MUST LOVE YOU AMY BECAUSE EVEN I FEEL LIKE AN ASS OVER THIS.
It was December, 1993. Things were not like they are now. No Window, no real internet...no IM (Well...there was "Telephone" but you had to know what you were doing).
Utah State operated on a VAX system and today's blogs and chatrooms, ect. were the "Newsgroups". Amy had just discovered message boards on our college server and told our roommates about them. Most were pretty stupid, like for people into programming computers, people into dungeons and dragons, or people into specific bands--mostly computer generated techno music.
When we could we'd find a group we were half-heartedly interested in and put a post up. Alt.flame.roommate.die.die.die was fairly good.
You had to scroll down lists of hundred and hundreds of tiny little headers to see if one interested you.
We found "THE PERSONALS".
We read post after post and amused ourselves with the pathetic pleas for attention, sex, etc. Then we came up with a bright idea!!! The best EVER!!!
Loralee would place a post!!!!! No one knew who we were...let's have a laugh or two!
I guess I got the job because I am a creative genius. I'm still not sure.
The headline was the kicker--"Sex Kitten Likes to Purr". I am not sure which one of us came up with that amazing chunk of composition perfection.
For your enjoyment (And because somehow I remember my college VAX handle) I FOUND THE ORIGINAL. Dude. I reread all 300 or so posts from way back. Keep in mind I was a VERY lame 17-year-old with extremely limited life experience.
Dec.1.1993 Sleepy 11:35pm
SEX KITTEN LIKES TO PURRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm a sexy little play kitten, seeking a swm to exchange erotic mail with. I love to play, pant, and claw. In case you're wondering, my measurements are 41-28-34. So if you are that special Tom cat... I'd love to give you a purrrrrrrrr.
Yes. I am freaking hiding my head in shame here.
I am also wondering why the hell I ever posted on alt.ketchup. Was I really THAT bored and friendless?
We expected we would get a few replies. Ten or fifteen, maybe twenty, laugh and move on.
The next day there were THREE HUNDRED MESSAGES in my inbox. WITH MY DAMN NAME ON THEM.
Yah...WE didn't realize there was this lovely function called "Finger" where it, um TOLD YOU WHO THE HELL WAS POSTING.
For MONTHS this happened. It would jamm my inbox most days. Most were deleted immediately. Some were read at random.
Some found me through that post and responded to me through other groups. One example was this Australian named Tony.
I tired of him quickly, but not my other roommate. They called, chatted, wrote a LOT. It came to an ugly end when she discovered that had an extra tooth, was a rampant nudist and sent her...UM...THE FREAKING MOST DISGUSTING PHOTOS EVER TAKEN....
I need a shower.
So...I had actually managed to forget most of this until I told Amy she could pick anything for me to write about today.
You would think that I would have taken this as a "Learning Experience" and not have been so freaking startled when I realized people actually read THIS Blogging Drivil O'mine, but alas...I was.
I guess I am doomed to have all areas of my life on recycle.
I was cleaning up my storage room and organizing my gift wrapping supplies (This statement makes me sound WAY more organized then I am, I realize).
I found an American Eagle gift box from a shirt Jonathan gave me for Christmas. I went to break it down and A CUTE PAIR OF SOCKS FELL OUT!To add to my delight they are HOT PINK socks!
I hadn't noticed them at Christmas, so I got a lovely surprise!!
I have been jumping around and giddy for about two hours now because of it.
Now, I'm off to get a Diet Coke before work! YAY!
It really doesn't take a lot to make me happy, does it...
She thinks she is boring.
I know what you are thinking, "WHAT?! No WAY...you LIE! Pshaw!"
Sigh. It is true. Can you believe she actually thinks this? Sadly, I have proof that this is, indeed what she thinks:
Karen is not boring.
Boring means to lack interest
A Series of Hikus
I am just going to remind her and you of a few things we've done that I (Who is most certainly NOT boring) have thoroughly enjoyed.
Smart, crazy and fun.
Her life is an adventure.
My friend, Loralee.
Karen is a pretty swell, non boring, gift of a friend.
I love her.