Monday, July 31, 2006
I have been a complete drag this week. I'm sorry about that, but it's just the way that it is. I'm gonna duck out for today and tomorrow because they just suck. I'm giving warning because I post so much that when I miss a day, I get inquiries about whether I am dead or stuck in my box of Gain n' stuff. I'll probably still play around on my comments, though.
I want you to know that I love and appreciate the emails and the comments. I love them. I re-read them all the time. They help me when I'm sad and make me grin when I'm not.
It helps more than you know.
No one needs to feel obligated to help me. My friends and family have all been through so much, this is just self-indulgent of me to keep spewing on them and on you. I am so thankful for my husband, family and friends. You have given everything to me. You deserve better, I'm sorry it takes me so long.
I'm sorry, wherever you may be.
I'll howl at the moon for awhile and be back. Won't be long, I promise.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves
You might wonder how it is that I ended this evening at the hospital.
I was in Salt Lake and I got a phone call from my poor friend, Karen.
She cut off a huge amount of her finger using a rolling cutter! She had no one to drive her and was scared and embarrassed. I sped up to Logan as fast as my little car would take me and met her just as she was exiting the hospital.
I took her to IHOP to get some food in her and to commiserate. Karen is such a kind soul. I feel so bad that she is hurt, but I am honored and grateful that when the call was placed, it was to ME.
Someone asked in a comment why I went to Salt Lake today.
I traveled to Salt Lake to see my new step-nephew, Antonio, get baptized into the Mormon church.
There is so much to say, but I just can't get into it too deeply. I have posted about it only once before. Why? Well, for one, I feel weirdly protective of Mormonism. I try to be as respectful as possible of it, even though I suck. I try to clarify at every turn that I am at the bottom of the dung-pile as what one should look at as an LDS person. However, I can't ignore it. I was raised in this religion (Kinda). It impacts virtually everything I do to some extent.
Two, it is an extremely complex issue for me that has taken a lifetime to create and will most likely take another lifetime or longer to resolve, understand and to feel comfortable. I am not comfortable at church, I can't say it brings me happiness, but stress, grief and I (repeat) I make myself feel miserable because I am not a person of faith and adhearance. Yet, I am not happy not going, or just hanging in the fringes. I feel guilt for me, my family and my loved ones. I seems like I am screwed in every direction. I don't mind talking about it, but again...it makes me skittish, so be kind, please. I am just a fucked up girl trying to figure out her own piece of mind and I have been less than successful in this area.
I didn't want to go today, if you want the truth. The amount of sheer, badgering, HELL I took to go to this thing was phenomenal. My mother doesn't seem to care that certain situations are the equivalent of having my epidermis layer peeled off. It comes down to the fact that I am a bad sister if I don't attend.
So, I went.
My twin and I were the only siblings there, along with my parents. I have no idea who the pioneer family on the right are. Your guess is as good as mine. And yes, that is just a weirdo fashion statement, even for Utah. Not the norm, but not all that surprising, either.
My brother's wife is from Mexico, so the attend a hispanic ward (Congregation). The service was in Spanish. My sister in law leaned over after the hymn and whispered, "You speak good Spanish!"
I didn't think she would comprehend that I speak no Spanish at all, but you pick up stuff after 4 years of diction for Romantic Languages. I am a quick study, it isn't that different from Latin and Italian and I'm used to singing stuff that I have relatively no idea where it comes from.
Even though I didn't understand 98% of the words in the service, somehow, not understanding the actual words being spoken gave me reason to concentrate on the feeling that was there.
The bishop (Minister) was a small, humble man in a suit two sizes too large, frayed at the cuffs and shiny in the knees. His hands were rough and his shoes were scuffed and falling apart and even though it sounds the epitome of cheese and triteness, the man was radiant with kidness and love.
Here is this person with very little materially, but he has EVERYTHING. You can just tell. I am not saying that people "Must" have religion to be happy, but I yearn to have that kind of...PEACE. That radience. To feel comfort and secure in the paths and choices you make. To not feel foreign wherever you go and whatever you do...Even in your own skin and mind.
I feel torn in a million pieces right now. My heart yearns for something, that is for sure. What, I don't know. HOW, I REALLY don't know.
My sister-in-law, Candy, was very sweet when she saw me. "You come back to church, Lo'Lee (She can't say my name correctly)? You need to! IS good for familia."
She went on for awhile. I started to explain, but she couldn't comprehend what I was trying to say. I thought about just pointing at myself and saying, "Diablo".
Don't get me wrong. I have made a LOT of progress as far as some things are concerned. If you knew my screaming hatred of God that I used to have. Just about a year ago when I had lost EVERYTHING I had, it was easier to direct my anger, pain and frustration toward Him, than those I loved.
I have worked through a lot of that, but I still don't know where I belong, where I fit.
Right now it feels like nowhere.
I know those who will say to talk to God mean the best, but it is not too far in the past that I called him a F**ktard in my head. I have always had difficulty relying on God and feeling comfort from Him and right now I'm pretty thrilled I don't despise all that He is. Don't feel sorry for me, though. I do little to improve the situation.
I am so blessed with the people around me, but I feel like there is not one person I can talk to that would understand this or me; My background, how I was raised, the different aspects of this particular religion and the poor choices I have made to worsen my own situation. I'm a complex soul and this is about as complex as it gets. Frankly, no one around me has made the magnitude of shitty choices that I have. I wouldn't WANT anyone to know how this feels.
I needed a dress and shoes for a family function today. I suppose the good thing about having a mother who is sure that you have to attend no matter HOW uncomfortable you are is that she offers to buy you a new dress and shoes so that you don't look like a heathan when you show up.
This is no small feet. Speaking of "No SMALL FEET". Buying shoes also sucks. I have thick ankles and huge feet, but I love these shoes. They make my foot want to "Pop" like in the old black and white movies from the 40's
I look suck-o-la in dresses that aren't costumes. Really. I am just not a dress person. This was the best I could do:
Actually, I love it. It is swingy and full and shimmers slightly. I feel like June Cleaver, but what the hell? I am sure there are many men who were hot for June at one point, so maybe this look will work out for me.
I am not sure how it will work, but it's the best I can do. Mom will have to suck it up and deal.
Thank you to Zac, who helped me endure the mall and for this chick, who is the best salesman at Dillards.
I can't believe how much I don't like to shop.
I can't believe I had to buy A DRESS. I am not really a "Dress" person.
I can't believe my friend Zac was kind enough to go with me.
I can't how well I did.
I can't believe these are MINE. I can't believe Zac's cute bunny fingers:
You may remember that I get cool emails. One of my favorties has been from a kindred spirit in the bay area of California and her name is Loralee Christiansen. I've already done one post on her, but she has done a couple things so cool, I need to do another. Here is her site. She is a singer as well and we have many cool things in common.
For one, she found me by googling her name at 4 am. Familiar, no?
We have so many things in common that we have taken to calling each other "Thing One" (ME) and "Thing Two" (Her)
She even said I was like Oprah because she went out and bought my brand of Gain (YAY) and "The Dante Club" because I am reading it. This I am not so sure about because I am only a few pages in.
Rant to Thing Two: BUY a Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. BUY IT BUY IT. Take that one back and but IT. Your mind will mesh with his perfectly. It is the most hilarious, well-written, fantabulous book of all time. Pulitzer finalist, too. I'll freaking send it to you if I have to!!!
She is just awesome.
She sent me a PACKAGE IN THE MAIL!!!! I would upload pictures, but once again, Blogger sucks.
Inside was a beautiful, three-page letter and ALL of her CD'S! I would have a picture of those, but they are in my car and I am blogging in an unacceptable condition to go outside. I suppose I could change, but Thing Two would understand my sloth moment better than most!
Yippee! I love getting packages (Well, not always). I haven't recieved many in my life. Only one in the last decade has been a gift, so this wasu just uber cool.
I don't deserve such coolness.
She and I email a lot. She's been away for 5 days and sent me one at 3 am (See, we are a lot alike). She had some lovely, encouraging words for sad, little me.
I'm putting a little nugget from there here to illustrate WHY SHE IS SUDDENLY COOLER THAN EVEN I THOUGHT POSSIBLE:
.......WOW! I was gone for 5 days and you were just the little "post-a-holic!" So, I would like to comment on some of these things:
I am freaking jealous. I am Mimi. Except I'm in Utah. Uh, I am also not 20 and a stripper. I'm not a heroine addict (Well, sorta not...Long story). Ok, so I have nothing in commen with her what-so-ever. Rent is just an awesome musical. I didn't even hear it until last year, can you believe that? I am afraid it was because I was stubborn, but someone showed me the light.
You rock, Thing Two. I'll make a CD with you any day of the week.
In the comments of an earlier post, I recieved a request to post 100 of my favorite songs and aritsts. So, Mr. Anon. I did your list (You'll look for it at the end of the week, my eye. You obviously don't know who you are dealing with.) You left really abruptly. Seriously, I don't give a rat's who you are and I won't ask you again. I will be annoyed if you crawl off into some hole, cause your comments are fun.
I really don't expect anyone to read it all. Consider it more a post for my posterity, and because I suck at ignoring peer pressure, and just because I had nothing better to do.
It's long. It would have been shorter without any comments, but I wanted them for my history.
I love so much music, this was hard. I know this is an imperfect list. For example, "Happy music" would have different stuff on it. "Music that makes you writh on the floor in pain because of love" would have entirely different selections.
I am sure that I will be wanting to add, subtract and alter, but I did the best I can.
I know I will be heavily mocked for many of the choices on here, but they are really what I love, so there.
I buried it in my blog because it was just too long.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Four people playing the card game, "Oklahoma" can lead to interesting conversation:
"I got pulled over on the way here. When the officer asked for my licence, all I had to offer him was a pack of Pokemon cards, some transformers and a softball that James removed my wallet for to make room in my purse".
"I wasn't naked in a hot tub with another guy!! We were rolling around in the snow naked. Big difference!"
"What asshole is supposed to be dealing? Oh, yah...it's my turn."
"Do you think it would be a bad idea if I tried smoking through my nose?"
"I can't believe there is a wine that I love to drink. No, I won't give you a lapdance for introducing me to it.
"I suck at peer pressure. This is something everyone knows about me. "
"Yah. Everyone knows it."
Go make out with Brigitte again.
"It's sad you had to fire him, but sometimes if they suck ass, you can love someone to death and it still tastes bad."
"Apparently, milkmen who commit sexual harassment is a industry-wide problem."
"Honey? I know you're in your pajamas and it's kind of late, but Kyle Max and Brigitte want to know if you want to go over and play games. I'll stay here with the kids."
Blink. Ponder. Consider."Hmmm. Do I have to change and wear a bra?"
"Honey? KYLE, and MAX and Brigitte want to know if you want to go over there to play games."
Nothing witty today. I'm afraid that this post is going to fall into the category that happens when I get too emotional, serious or boring. Crickets will chirp, the comments will be lonely and empty.
I suppose if you have nothing to say about Harry Potter, you could all comment on how fabulous I look in this dress, because, well...I do!
I'm not, you know...A narcissist or desperate or anything...
Karen, Brian, his sister Sherry and I were once again, partners in crime. Karen is McGonagal and runs things, Brian walks around as Snape. Last year he made a kid cry. Asshole. Sherry is Madame Sinistra and she started helping me tell fortunes because my table is VERY popular and it got overwhelming to do alone. The party was a success as it always is. Karen does a FABULOUS job every stinkin' year.
I love reading fortunes to kids. They can pick tea leaves (Confetti that they sprinkle into a tea cup and swish around), the magic 8 ball, palm reading (One of my more brilliant moments. I sprinkle glitter on their palms. They get to pick out the glitter color. It is a big favorite of the tiny little ones.)
They can also opt to talk to "Edwin" the gazing ball. Edwin is a narcoleptic, so to "Wake him up" the kids have to help me tickle him and wake him up. Everyone loves Edwin. It cracks me up to see 13-year-olds get into tickling him.
I love how sucked in the kids get by my fortunes. It isn't hard to do. You find out how old they are, then figure out the grade and tell them cool things based on what you know about Elementary curriculum (You are going in to the 3rd grade and you are going to ROCK at cursive. ect.) Then I throw in something fun (You're birthday party is going to be amazing) and something useful (You need to make sure that when you brush your teeth at night you brush really, REALLY good and floss). Parents usually dig those last comments.
Brian Joy needs a new Snape wig REALLY bad. Five years has hashed his.
I think Brian and I would make a great married couple.I had a blast. Can't wait till next year...
Harry Potter's Birthday Party for the Smithfield Library
It is it's fifth year and I ADORE it. Entertaining kids is really fun.
I do it every year. Even last year at this time. If you recall my life at this time last year, you will understand when I say I don't think I've ever done a performance under more duress..
8 am is to damn early for eyelash glue.
Friday, July 28, 2006
This is what happens when you get down in the dumps. Your friends notice and drag you out of the house and force you to sing exaggerated opera with them in their car while driving to get sushi and you have your camera with you.
Actually, it wouldn't be half bad if I hadn't had my last voice lesson in 2002, we actually remembered the French ( I haven't sung Delilah in about 7 years), I didn't have such a damn loud, unstable voice, I could hit a "G" (My arch-nemesis note), Bryan could hit a "G", and if we weren't in a car.
In other words, if we had just let the people on the CD sing and left well enough alone it would have been an excellent video. :) Still. It was so much fun. Not being serious when you sing rocks. I love being a goof. It's healing.
WARNING: Don't have your volume up loud because the first thing you will here is my voice plowing down at you and warbling. It could be painful.
Is it scary that we are going to do a recital together for the tabernacle Christmas season??? Man, I am going to need to do a crap load of work to sound decent. My vocal coach would turn over in her grave if she were dead. Oh, well... Since we'll be doing this duet, this will be a good "Before" recording to compare it to.
Is there anything more fun, wonderful, cute and pure than a 6 week old? This is Mary Ellen's grandson, Easton. He is the first baby I have been around a lot since Matthew died almost three years ago. Since then, I have really wanted someone around me to have a baby, if only to give me a sweet moment to fill my arms.
I adore babies.
Let me repeat that for those who may have missed it.
I. Adore. Babies.
I am the lamest, cooing-ist, kiss-around, munch on toes, freak of the earth when I am anywhere around an infant.
I even have names (sorta) picked. If it is a boy, "Jack" (I don't care what my sister says, I would not name him Arthur and have him called, "Arty Choate". Not funny).
A girl? Well. I have wanted Lily as long as I can remember, but that name is also really complicated and sorta taken. Long story.
Blythe Lee Choate is one I am really fond of. Lee is the middle name no matter what. It's more symbolic more than that I like it. Besides, say it fast...cute, huh?
It is the joy of my life to have a baby with me. I am endlessly fascinated by their every move, gurgle, coo and blink-ity-blink of their eyes.
It is my most treasured time as a mother.
It is also the scariest time as a mother.
So many things can happen. So many bad, terrible and devastating things can happen in one breath that change your life forever. It can be a regular Tuesday and you can be up at your sisters making beef stew and reviewing niece's homecoming dresses and then the phone rings and you are never the same.
So, why would I want another one?
Well, I am torn. Pregancy is extremely difficult for me. I am considered high-risk and it is scary to be in that category. Plus, there are the abdomen shots twice a day, I get violently ill and then there is just bringing it to term.
If you manage not to miscarry, they are born and the worry REALLY begins.
I don't sleep when I have infants. I maybe get 3 hours a night. Maybe. I'm too scared to sleep. I will sit and just watch them sleep to make sure they are breathing a lot of the time. Sometimes it is just that I am too enamored watching them chow down on a sucky thing while they're sleeping to get any sleep myself.
What if something happens again? I don't think I could take it. Look what happened last time. I really don't think that I could get crazier, do more stupid things, sink any lower.
The thought of having another one absolutely terrifies me, but I want one.
I don't think I am a good mother. I love my children, but I am just not very talented at it. A loved one told me that they thought I would be an excellent mom and I broke down and cried with thankfulness. I don't know if I should be trusted with children, but it doesn't stop my desire to have another chubby tummy to munch on around me.
This week has been rough. I think from now until the end of September I am really going to struggle. There are just a lot of sad anniversaries for me in this stretch of time and I have had some particuarly hard things this week:
I was helping my sister sort stuff into boxes and I found pictures that were taken at the hospital when Matthew died. I had never seen them. I have pictures of the mortuary and I have only looked at them once, last Memorial Day, in the company of loved ones.
These were worse. Tubes, horrible brutal needles in each calf, and his little hands were so white and still. I just stood there shaking uncontrollably and I just...freaked, is perhaps the best word. I have only done it one other time and that was at the hospital. This was close...Primal, terrible, howling cries came from the depths of my soul.
I exude emotion all over the place, but if you see tears there is serious trouble. If you ever see me like
The same sister fell down the stairs and we had to call an ambulance for her. Ever since Matthew died, emergency vehicles make my heart pound and my hands shake. The same crew,the same red ambulance and the one cop on the earth that I consider a DICKHEAD responded to the call. Irony is a foul bitch sometimes.
I have also had an avalanch of memories to deal with that are difficult.
It well may be that I am having an emotional response to pain, but I have also waited a long time since Matthew to have another child. We don't have the room, money or timing right now, but I just don't know. Should it matter so much? We could make do. I am not getting any younger and that is also a consideration.
I don't know if I deserve to have another little one bless my life.
I would be so grateful, though.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
I was just watching an Oprah (I so totally love her. Call me cliche, I care not. She rocks)
They were talking about secrets and the poision that they create (Which, it totally true. Trust me.)
She also said that everyone has a way to deal with their inner pain that they keep secret from the world and that the only way to heal was to come clean and admit what you have done.
In the previous post, there was an anonymous accusation pointed at me.
" Where is Sue? You did something to her didn't you? You were always jealous of her. I am calling the cops."
Watching Oprah today has given me the strength to share my pain:
I AM THE HOMELY PERSON THAT ABDUCTED SUE.
I HAVE always been jealous. Her perky hair, her winning smile, her love of Mormons and ability to measure awenings with no measuring tape. What isn't to love.
So, yes. I have her.
I will take 1, 0000,000 in small unmarked bills to secure her safe return. Leave it behind the dumpster of Hotdog On a Stick at Layton Hills Mall.
If you don't have 1,000,000, I suppose I could settle for a fresh squeezed lemonade and a chili-dog.
Call it a discount.
Sue has been kidnapped by K-Mart.
Lame post title, I know.
HEY! At least I didn't say, "A cacophony of voices". Weak! Trite! Totally, "Not-Cool".
Uh...what the freak was I saying?
Oh...This is why I love blogs:
Someone who shall remain anonymous (Because I already embarrass her on here way too much) posted a lovely, new profile picture on her blog. We all raved and made several comments comparing her photo to a hottie car. Then she promptly disappeared for like, 5 very unacceptable days. (Maybe she didn't care for the Vroom, Vroom sounds we all kept making?)
We had a lot of fun while she was gone, though:
Loralee Choate said...
Her absence is a clear indicator that she has been kidnapped by homely people who are envious of her new picture.
Looks like we'll all have to pitch in for a ransom.
Uh...I have a half-eaten doughnut and a couple of paint swatches to throw into the pot.
I've got a half written paper on interpretations of scandinavian mythology, and a couple of bags of cheetos.
Although, I suppose if it was really serious I could let one of my arcade machines go just to get sue back.
Would you please get it together girl?
We are all waiting with bated breath to hear what you have to say next.
Ok, maybe not bated breath. Just bad breath. But we are waiting....
Speak for yourself, I just brushed...
Can't you see how restless the natives are getting? Come on, Sue, post something already!!!
the chanting is getting deafening.
cannibalism is just hours away.
don't eat me! I'm full of non-health!
Loralee Choate said...
Yah, because eating Froyd is bad.
Thank goodness she came back. It would have sucked to lose those paint samples.
Here I am, combing through my zillion posts and I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye.
It is a HOBO SPIDER.
These are nasty, ugly, freaking fugly HUGE arachnids that cannot climb walls well, so you are forever freaked they are going to scurry up to you and bit your leg or get you when you are asleep.
Oh, the are also deadly poisonous.
Oh, and did I happen to menation that I amTERRIFIED OF SPIDERS!
I thought that I killed him, but NO! He got away.
Great. I am going to be bitten and my legs are going to swell up, get infected and then slowly turn black and die from Gangrene. Then, I will get blood poisoning and probably die a slow, painful death. Although, after trying to read my mammoth blog, that just may be preferable.
Damn, I write a lot.
I mean, a LOT.
I have been trying to slog through the masses that are my archives, clean them up and change a few things and it is a nightmare. If it was written on paper and boxed up, I think it would resemble the warehouse at the end of "Indiana Jones".
Blogger has also been such a bitch the last few days, anyone else had issues?
Seriously though, I have over 500 posts since November.
WHY DIDN'T YOU PEOPLE STOP ME?
Thanks. Thanks a lot.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Just a tiny example of my mail box:
From a peach of a reader regarding yesterday's post on Girlfriend night and my lack of belief in anything except a sure knowledge that I do not believe in Amway.
"...It is little wonder that you have no belief in anything. Look at the way you live your life! I don't know why you want to bring Amway down. I think that it is sad that you have to bash it. I love Amway and I know that it is the best avenue for many people. It is too bad you can't find a more positive path for your life. If you had a positive avenue, I don't think you would be so damaged. "
Dear Amway Rep:
Thank for your letter regarding the positive influence of Amway on your life.
I am sure that you are very successful at selling Amway with your cheery disposition and "Can-Do" attitude.
I think you are right. Amway is the perfect answer. Where do I sign up? Do I stand in the line that will make my son come back? When do I receive the product that gives me a stable, secure childhood? OH, and don't forget to send me the paperwork on how to go about registering for the latest information regarding how to undo the damage I've done to my dearest loved ones, ok?
I'm so excited!
A profoundly changed woman thanks to you.
Since I willingly seem to do stupid things in my life (Like yesterday's prancing around) and "Fiddle Dee Dee" the consequences, I have no right to bitch. Ever.
I suck at math, but even I can figure out the equation:
Sucky back and neck +
Muscle tone of headcheese=
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Paid for everything in quarters just cause we could.
Bought "Look at my ass" rub-on tattoos.
Played competition Tetrus. (I lost. I suck.)
Watched Bridgy play "Twister" by herself. (She lost).
THINGS LEARNED FROM THIS EVENING:
Loralee: Hates when real estate pamphlets do not include the asking price of the listing.
Bridgy: Despises when people make toast at her house and they leave crumbs scattered on her counters.
Michelle: Hates when people read the newspaper and leave it strewn all over the place.
Karen: Hates when the shower curtain is left open.
We all hate "Toast Sweat" left on counters. It's icky.
Things That We Believe:
Bridgy: Believes in Karma and fate.
Michelle: Believes that "Mean People Suck".
Karen: Believes in UFO'S. We are not alone.
Loralee: Currently doesn't believe in anything, but decidedly does NOT believe in AMWAY.
For those who do not know, I am not the most graceful person on earth. I can't dance, but even though it means serious injury at times, I am known for my ability to play one mean Air Guitar (Reflection on my playing skills and injury written about HERE. Pretty funny.).
So, no. I am not coordinated. Pretty darn awkward is what I would label myself (If I was into labeling human entities of variety and beauty into a pigeon hole and blah, blah,blah).
Sorry, I had to throw that last bit in for those people who keep harping on me to be "Kind to myself".
Where was I?
You may have noticed from my self-portrait that I've been less than chipper. Yup. Bruised heart. Lots of memories. I don't deal well with sad/hard anniversaries and I am coming up on a humungo one. A year ago this week my life literally fell to pieces of decroded crap on the floor.
Not even, dried out, non-smelly crap that is easy to pick up and throw away. No, we are talking crap of huge oderific nightmares. The kind that you look at your dog or cat and say, "What the HELL did you eat????".
That kind of crap.
Jon left me, took my kids, I found out just what people thought of me, failed a final, took four more, sent off my best friend to a war zone, and ended up losing about 13 people and a dog in the span of 48 hours.
It's a lot to reflect on.
It's a lot to regret.
I know my life is happier for the most part now, and I have so much to be thankful for.
I have learned so much, but it was a painful, huge, defining time for me and I can't help but feel the ache sometimes. I probably will for a very long time. I just don't do well missing people, wondering how they are and wishing desperately I wasn't such a slimeball. I will just have to keep doing what I've been doing...going day to day. Moment to moment, sometimes.
Doing stuff like this helps: My boys took a bunch of pictures and video's today (I'm teaching them to use a camera). Then they begged me to let them make a video and post it (They love it when I post pictures of them). It was the best I could do. My apologies!
And the wisdom to distinguish the one from the other.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
I got a very sweet email from a reader this evening.
I'm so glad that you found comfort through me, Jayne. I am posting the lyrics to a very important song for me.
Some days these words were ALL that got me through to the next moment.
I hope they help you.
This letter brought up so many thoughts, so many feelings.
She couldn't have known the timing, the events lately, what it would bring.
Pain rears it's head and follows with glorious longing and sadness.
I need to be alone with my heartache for a little while.
After reading the comments and wrestling a bit, I'll bite. OK, Jayne. I'll post the video I made for you.
For those going, "Huh?". I made this for Jayne. She is going through some similar, difficult times.
I know a lot of you have seen some of these before, and I wasn't going to post this on here, but she asked and I am proud of it. I even put an undie shot in there for those males who may balk at watching a self-indulgent video set to a sappy Broadway tune.
When your life sucks, sometimes it is damn hard to see the forest for the trees. I wanted to remind her that I have been happy, sad, mellow, funny, heartbroken and joyful before, during and after tremendous pain. Don't quit looking...the good is there.
It was very good therapy and a constructive way to spend an evening of nostalgia.
It was painful, but good as well. I learned a lot from doing it.
Here ya go. Try to ignore the fact that "youtube" selected an amazingly "flattering" photo:
Here is my first installment of my Photo Meme Project.
For those just tuning in (Or those who have memory issues due to losing massive quantities of gray matter from reading the drivil I crank out) I requested ideas from my readers about things they would like to see pictures of.
Due to the title, you may assume that today's post will be in regards to requests regarding underwear and my collection of battery operated toys. Never assume. It just makes an ass of U and ME. (Tee hee). Alas, those posts will be saved for when I can figure out a way to do it without having my husband go ape-shit on me and ban me from my camera. So, until then...
The first installment of this little photo project weirdly flows well together. You may not think so at first (For what the hell do Little House on the Prairie, My father and Diet Coke have to do with each other for hell's sake?), but there are weird, little connections goin' on. Just follow the piece of string into the jumbled tangles that make up my thought process, and you'll stay with me.
HOLLY requested a reenactment of Little House on the Prairie (I'm a fan. Shut it.)
Since I loaned out my apron, bonnet and bloomers to my nieces to go on pioneer trek, I thought I would pay homage to Pa Ingalls and his crafty woodworking skills. Besides, in this sexy picture, the box he is leaning on is damn similar to the one I am about to spotlight, so I think I am an amazing genius of creativity.
This is an old apple crate that I found on that fabulous piece of land Jonathan and I just purchased to build a new house. If you don't remember what my dream lot looks like, click Here. It is divine.
Some elbow grease, a little sand paper, some stain, and voila! A kick-ass box.Sanding, staining, and making old things look fabulous is not new to me. My Dad is an antique hunter extroidinaire. All of my siblings spent hours out in his garage learning and watching him refinish, sand, repair and cane antiques. I refininished my first dresser and sold it when I was 8 or 9. All of my siblings have some very beautiful pieces in their homes. In regards to AMY'S request, here are some of my favorites (AND my grandmother's tea set is in there, too, so I get to kill off two birds with one stone.).All of that sanding and staining outside in three-digit weather made me hot and cranky. I decided a cold, deeee-licious Diet Coke was in order. I ran to the gas station, ignoring the fact that my hair was ratty, and sweaty, I had on a hideous painting outfit and I had red cherry stain covering many parts of my body. I cared not. Diet Coke was calling and who can ignore THAT?
CHARLI stated that she would like to see a pic of unusual/stupid signs that are around Cache Valley. I saw one on the soda fountain qualifies as the latter. I apologize for the quality, but I had to snap the picture quickly as the manager was looking at me and my stained body like I was Lizzie Borden about to give him 40 wacks. (Nah, he wasn't nearly cute enough.)
"The day that you purchase your drink/cup you are entitle to ONE free refill that day. Any other refills cost .60. Thank you".
I am not sure I want to know the scenario that prompted this sign being made. I've lived here long enough that I can imagine, though.
Stay tuned in for the next installment. Who knows what it will be?
Friday, July 21, 2006
See Jane. See Jane scurry. See Jane have a very frustrating day. Poor, Jane.
See Dick. See Dick come home to upset, Jane. See Dick confused at period-afflicted, hormone-warped, Jane. Poor, Dick.
See Jane and Dick. See Jane and Dick fight. Mad, Jane. Frustrated, Dick.
Hear Dick be a dickhead to Jane.
Hear Jane get pissed off at Dick for being a dickhead.
See Dick run.
See Jane buy Midol. See Jane cry. See Jane cool down.
See Dick pull his head out of his ass and profusely apologize to Jane for being a dickhead.
See Jane tell Dick that he is good. See Jane be a wicked, wicked girl.
See Dick. Dick is happy.
See Dick. See Jane. Dick and Jane are busy.
See Spot. See spot outside. Bad, Spot.
Hear Spot. Hear Spot outside having freaking animal love.
See Spot interrupt good-boy, Dick and wicked girl, Jane.
See Dick fume.
See Jane laugh.
Run, Spot, run.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Photo shoots with Bridgy are fun n' stuff.
They are even MORE amusing when you throw in Bryan Woolley. Bryan needed headshots for his TV show and the website he's developing. Who ya gonna call? Bridgy, that's who.
I make an awesome photo crew. Everyone should hire me to hold their lights:
Had to have some of Bryan and Bridgy. Don't they look like cute, tan, Gidgit-esque, people?
I was trying to get genuine smiles and "Laughter in the eyes" photo people seem to gush on about, so I said, "Picture me naked". This really wasn't the reaction I was going for.
At this point we were entirely too silly and beyond redemption. The photos just got worse. I'll spare you.
Nah. I'm not that nice.
Here is our, "Dawson's Creek" pose. I will torture you no further visually.
It was heaps of fun. It definately got me into gear for the photo meme. If you haven't commented yet (See previous post), please do. You should know that I'm going to bitch and moan until I have enough comments.
BITCH! MOAN! WHINE! NAG! PESTER! ANNOY!THREATEN! CAJOLE! BEG!
If THAT didn't do the trick, I suppose I will have to pull out the BIG GUN and send these to people who I will lable "Non-Participants":
To Whom It May Concern:
You are asked to take immediate action regarding, "Operation Photo Hag". If you do not, we will be forced to send you a very strongly worded letter from the UN. Hans Blix will personally use such terms as, "Disgruntled","Condemnation", "Angst", and the especially harsh, "Epistemologically flawed".
Be afraid. Be very afraid.
I just finished an awesome photo shoot with Photographer Extrodinaire, Bridgy for our TV Chef Extrordinare, Bryan(Of Fox 13 fame).
It was so much fun (But more about that later.)
I am not so great at photography, but I love doing it anyway. Plus I have that nifty new camera that was a gift from a certain, beloved, family member who may or may not be a welder. GRIN.
Where the hell do YOU fit in to all of this, you ask??
I saw something similar to this on another blog and liked it so much I'm stealing it (With a few tweaks)
I want to do a photo post.
I want to do a photo post of pictures YOU suggest.
It can be *almost* anything (No, Alex...I'm not posting a naked picture of me.)
Anything from toes to my bathroom flooring, what the inside of my closet looks like, the flab under my arms (Yup. I'd do it, even though I have the muscle tone of headcheese).
Post what you would like to see a photo of in the comments (REMEMBER, YOU HAVE TO CLICK ON "POST A COMMENT" TO READ OR WRITE A COMMENT. My comment section sucks. I miss my old template).
I'll click away and post them in a few days.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
This is what happens when you are friends with a Utah Celebrity.
I love Bryan Woolley (Yes, this is the same Bryan of my blog's left-hand sidebar fame).
When you are Bryan's friend you not only get great food, conversation and fun with his weenie dog, D.D (Damn Dog), you also get gems like this:
Me: "Bryan, I can't believe you said that on live TV. You are awesome. This is SO going on the blog."
Bryan: "Oh, YAY! I'm not worthy! Now I'll be famous!!!!!!"
Because, as everyone knows, this blog gets way more hits than the hundreds of thousands of people that watch Fox 13 news.
Monday, July 17, 2006
When your wife has had a long day full of extra-ordinary stress and is attempting to clean up from a birthday party for your 7-year-old, it is not okay to shoot her in the back with your son's new Flash Flood SuperSoaker.
No matter what happens in porn, it just ain't a good way to get laid.
I consider myself a fairly outgoing individual. I make friends easily, I enjoy large gatherings of people and I love having friends to go on outings with.
I am also quite shy. I put on a good front, but underneath, I often quake with insecurity and feel out-of-place and ill- at-ease. I also think that as I get older, I like people in general less and less.
I am also notorious about my desire for neighborhood anonymity.
This doesn't really work too well in happy, friendly, know-what-your-neighbors-are-up-to, Cache Valley.
My idea of a good neighbor is one who doesn't flip me off as we're both going into our respective houses. Maybe a polite, "Hey". Or, "Hot outside today, isn't it?" is ok, but that is about it.
Why am I this way?
Dunno. Could be many things. Maybe it is because my mom was always ultra concerned with what other people think. I think I inherited that trait. I SUCK at trying to keep up a facade, though, so my solution? I just don't answer my door. Seriously. If my house is unacceptably messy and you knock on my door, I simply won't answer it 80% of the time. You know that you have reached the "Inner Sanctum of Loralee's Friendship" when you can just walk in and yell, "Loralee!! Stop watching TV in your bedroom and get your lazy ass out here!!!!"
I am also uncomfortable with my kids having friends over when I don't know in advance.
It's a rule. You have to ask before playing or having friends over. If you ask on the same afternoon, it's usually okay, but you have to play outside.
Lame of me. TERRIBLE of me, but true.This rule also seems to come stem from my inadequate/lazy housekeeping status.
James brought one of his friends from school home with him once on a day that was too cold to play outside and I was chastising him for breaking "The rules". Well, this kid's mom was standing where I couldn't see her on the porch. They live 20 minutes away. I was trying to explain that I was trying to get my house cleaned for company to come over that evening. She said, "That's ok, I'll help clean while the kids play". She came in the door and started CLEANING MY HOUSE.
NO, NO, NO, NO!!!!!
Not that I didn't appreciate her kindness, generosity, whatever. It's just that no one I am not very, very,very,very,very comfortable with shall lay one finger on my house.
Do you know what happens to me if I am not a said level of comfortable-ness with a person that isn't cleaning my house??? I get pressure of speech. Terrible pressure of speech. The kind of pressure of speech that makes my entire life story pour out of my mouth before I can stop it, leaving me feeling like I need an emergency shrink session or quart of vodka or both. Now add cleaning my house to that equation and you have nuclear distaster. Yup, that day sucked six ways from Sunday.
I tried extending (A BIT) to my neighbors. That was a mistake.
We have a family with 4 kids that have been living next door for a year. It has pretty much, you guessed it...SUCKED.
"Honey, the neighbors used the lawnmower and didn't replace the gas."
"The neighbors opened all the doors of the van!"
"The neighbors caused a cholera epidemic that destroyed half of the valley!"
Okay, that last one hasn't happened. Yet.
At first I felt sorry for them and I have SO many flaws as a parent, who am I to judge, right?
I have the most frustration and trouble with the 4-year-old girl. She is allowed out all by herself all the time. I rarely see the mom even check on her. We live on a busy street. She is always dirty and her hair is never combed. She interrogates me, my kids, my husband and everyone who comes to my house about who they are, what they are doing here and worst "What is that? Can I have some?".
She cut my sons hair, I came home to her eating an entire bag of my popsicles out of my freezer and she walked into my bedroom. Did I mention that Jon and I were IN IT at the time. She gets into the stuff on my porch, leaves her toys and crap all over my yard, stairs, and porch, uses all my kid's sidewalk chalk and picks and kills my flowers. She turns on my hose and leaves it running, then gets mud everywhere.
"The Neighbors _(Fill in blank)_" has become almost a catch-phrase in our household.
Talking to her nicely does no good. Her mom screams at her all the time and I think the screaming makes her immune to listening. Talking to her mother is just about as effective as talking to her daughter. I know, I know..."The poor little girl" and blah, blah, blah. I felt that way for forever and tried being nice. If you are nice to her it gets worse. Trust me on this. I love kids, but this one has sucked all good will out of my soul.
So now I have to lock my doors when I'm home and resign myself that I will never have peace again until I move or they do.
One of the little birdies Max and Bridgy rescued from my house died.
So damn sad.
Nature sucks ass sometimes, you know that?
Sunday, July 16, 2006
- What is your salad dressing of choice? Casper's Dressing (introduced by Michelle. YUMMY. Made in my beloved Cache Valley.)
- What is your favorite fast food restaurant? Subway
- What is your favorite sit down restaurant? ThaiFoon
- On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant? 20%+ I've been a waitress. I tip WELL.
- What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of? Whatever my current "Favorite Food" is.
- Name three foods you detest above all others. Black licorice, papaya,Tuna Helper
- What is your favorite dish to order in a Chinese restaurant? Hot and sour soup
- What are your pizza toppings of choice?Everything and extra mushrooms (Go, fungus!)
- What do you like to put on your toast? Butter
- What is your favorite type of gum? Orbit Bubble Mint.
- Number of contacts in your cell phone? Currently, 10. I need to finish switching over my address book from my old phone.
- Number of contacts in your email address book? WAY too many to count.
- What is your wallpaper on your computer? That adorable hampster with the carrot I posted. You know, the one Alex said screamed "Pure saccharine". (He's right. Still cute, though.)
- What is your screensaver on your computer? Black
- Are there naked pictures saved on your computer? Nope.
- How many land line phones do you have in your house? 2
- How many televisions are in your house? 2
- What kitchen appliance do you use the least? Waffle Iron
- What is the format of the radio station you listen to the most? AM Talk Radio
- How many sex toys do you own that require batteries?6
- What do you consider to be your best physical attribute? Lips
- Are you right handed or left handed? Right handed.
- Do you like your smile? Yes
- Have you ever had anything removed from your body? Gallbladder. Three kids.
- Do you prefer to read when you go to the bathroom? Sometimes
- Which of your five senses do you think is keenest? Taste
- When was the last time you had a cavity? 5 years ago
- What is the heaviest item you lift regularly?Groceries
- Have you had plastic surgery? Yup.
- If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?No.
- If you could change your first name, what would you change it to? Blythe or Lily
- How do you express your artistic side? Singing, blogging, decorating, cooking
- What color do you think you look best in? Autumn colors. I look awesome in orange
- How long do you think you could last in a medium security prison? Uh...not long n' stuff. I'd probably get traded for some smokes and a pack of twinkies by my cell mate in under an hour of being there.
- Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake? Yah, I swallowed a quarter at a water park once.
- If we werenÂt bound by societyÂs conventions, do you have a relative you would make a pass at? HELL NO.
- How often do you go to church? More than I like, not as much as I should.
- Have you ever saved someoneÂs life? Nope.
- Has someone ever saved yours? Yup.
- Favorite hobby: Probably cooking.
- Book you're reading: Dante Club by Matthew Pearl
- Give a random thought about something artistic: James Blunt just sounds FREAKY on that "Goodbye, my lover" song. Sorry, but if I gserenadedded by him at an emotionally pivotal moment I would break out laughing and chuck his guitar out the door.
Friday, July 14, 2006
You're already 15 minutes late for a dinner party.
You have had a hot, sticky, busy, miserable day. (Although you DID get part of your blogroll done and found a killer sale on Verbena plants).
You have two choices:
1. Go pretty, but icky.
2. Take a shower and go clean but fugly (Unless you can slap makeup on at red lights.)
What do you pick??
I picked #2.
Works for me.
I'd like to give a shout-out to Bill Serovy for untangling my template mess. I'm still tinkering with blogrolling, so don't despair. I just have to be careful. Karen's blog is there as a test, but there is something particular I need it to do and I have to find the right plug in.
Bill cracks me up. We email quite a bit...he's been kind enough to fill me in about things he finds (Such as the use of Gain popularity amongst minorities) and that there is a Looney Tunes music store where he lives.
In the email that attached the code for my fixed template, Bill had a few lovely nuggets I thought I'd share:
"...I guess they don't want people to mess with the standard layout,really, because they seem to make it difficult and dangerous."
(They should have a special plug in for people like me. When we attempt to alter the template it should set off sirens and alarms that scream, "Step away from the keyboard. This is for your own good. We don't want anyone getting hurt!")
My favorite was the sign off paragraph:
"Research will now resume at the Serovy Laboratory to determine the adult therapeutic dosage level of Gain."
Thanks a ton, Bill! I think you're swell.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
I read a question on a blog I read today asking if anyone ever told their friends that they loved them. Not, "Love ya", but really, seriously, "I love you". The answers were wide and varied. The timing of that read made the following scenario this afternoon even funnier than it would have been on any other day.
I decided to to make a trip to Borders to look at house magazines this afternoon. I'd been there earlier today, but are there ever too many trips to a bookstore?
I grabbed a stack of magazines, ordered a spiced chai and settled down into a comfy black chair to read up on floor plans.
I had my back to two gentlemen. This is what I overheard:
"I just want to say that you're great."
"No. Really great. I mean, with everything. I just...I love you, man."
"Uh...yah, me too."
"I. Love. You."
"Uh...Jesus, Jim...Don't tell me you're dying or try to tongue me, okay??"
I had to hastily exit to the ladies room as the results of snorting hot spiced chai up your nose requires some cleaning up.
My brother, Rhett, is fabulous. He is so much OLDER THAN I AM (HEH). I wish he was my father, actually. He is kind, FUNNY, even tempered, smart, WISE, spiritual and is an amazing cook. Best of all, I know that he adores me (Even though I put annoying photos of him on my blog)
Even though is very good at many things, he is not so great at fishing or gardening.He trys, god bless him.
He has never caught a fish (Though he has ALL the gear and has been trying for about 4 years in earnest).
He is also rather disappointed in his gardening track record.
He trys and does all the right things (EXCEPT for planting mint, which one of his brilliant and younger siblings TOLD HIM NOT TO DO).
He buys soil, drip systems, raised planter boxes, good quality seedlings and fertilizers, Phbalances everything and I think he got to the point were he considered hiring a Shaman to do an Indian blessing on his dirt.
"By the time I manage to grow I tomato, it will have cost two thousand dollars."
While this statement was very funny (Rhett has a way with words), it also made me a bit sad. You want those you love to achieve the things they work for.
Therefore, I was very pleased with the following call:
"Whiner!" (That would be me, in case you're wondering)
"Guess what? I have the best news you will ever hear! I GREW FIVE TOMATOES!!!!
There are even lots of flowers on the rest of the vines"
Thank goodness.I'm very happy for him. It's a true victory. It's a relief for me, too. I was considering sneaking into his garden with a bunch of organic tomatoes and hot gluing them to his vines.
Now he just needs to catch a damn fish before I have to rent some scuba gear, get underneath his hook and attach a nice, big trout before tugging on his line...
It was Christopher's birthday yesterday.
He is 7. I can't quite believe that number, even though I'm typing it.
He is a very sweet boy. He won the, "Kind to all" award in first grade this last school year. It fits him. He is very aware of other people's feelings and is very good at mechanical reasoning. I knew he was Jonathan's son when he expained electrical currents to me in Kindergarten.
He was an adorable baby...very tiny and ALL EYES. He has grown into such an adorable kid, and I have a sinking feeling that I am going to have to do female control when he is a teenager.
He is his brother's best friend. I am so grateful they adore each other because there are not a lot of kids around here to play with. James has really made him feel special this birthday...he keeps walking around saying, "Hey, Mr. Seven". Christopher eats it up. (He wasn't very thrilled with James rubbing in that in a month he would achieve world domination because he is turning 10 and therefore will receive the "Diabolical Power of Double Digits".)
I did a bunch of special little surprises and treats for him yesterday. We all went to see Superman II and then ate out for dinner. (Pancake house. His favorite.). We'll have a family party and presents this weekend.
I love my Pookey.