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Thursday, July 30, 2009

My water just broke

I'm in between pages.  

One chapter is ending and one is beginning.  

It's almost like being pregnant because you retain a lot of water when a chapter ends.  

But not in your ankles.  You carry it more around your eye balls.  

They get all puffy and swollen and you have to concentrate on keeping the flood gates from opening so your 13 year old son doesn't look at you and say "OH MY GOSH MOM!  Are you crying AGAIN?" 

And so your 14 year old daughter doesn't say, "PALEEASE don't cry in Foodland, Mom!"  

It ain't easy being pregnant.  It's uncomfortable.  It's painful.  It's emotional.  It's messy and ugly and frightening.  And every once in a while it hits you that you've grown out of your skinny jeans and your life is about to change forever.   There's no going back.  

But in a way the scariest part is the labor.  Deeeeeeeeeeeep, deeeeeeeeeeep down--somewhere around your pelvis area--it strikes a chord of terror.  

If you can just get through the labor (and the recovery, and the exhaustion, and the insecurities, and the post partum blues) there's a rush of excitement and joy unlike any other. 

The first thing I always say after giving birth is "WAHOOOOO!  I'm not pregnant anymore!!!"

I can't wait to say "WAHOOOOO!  I'm not moving anymore! (And I'm not recovering or exhausted or insecure either!  And I don't have the post moving blues!  (And I can fit back into my skinny jeans!))"  

Okay, you can smack me now!  Moving and pregnancy actually have nothing in common. 

I just love extending metaphors.  (hee hee)

Actually I woke up feeling gooooood this morning.  Not James Brown good, but gooooooood nonetheless.  

A little bit excited even.  The universe has spoken.  And when the universe speaks, people listen.  

One of the things I'm most excited about is that we haven't found a house yet.  

YAY!  No house.  

Sounds stressful, huh?  

But because we didn't have time to seal the deal on a house I get to live in my sister's extra house until we do.  

My sister's extra house is right down the street from where she lives.  

Which means . . . I WILL LIVE WITHIN WALKING DISTANCE OF MY SISTER!  

I haven't even lived within driving distance of my sister for 24 years! 

Do you have any idea what this means?  For one moment in time I am going to be borrowing sugar and spice and everything nice from my very own sister.

Woooohooooo!

There is still some good in the world after all.  


Now if you'll excuse me, my water just broke and my contractions are starting. 


Wednesday, July 29, 2009

More or Less

Yesterday I got four more hours than you.  HA!  I love the feeling of having more than everyone else.  

The only down side is that whenever I have more than everyone else I'm sitting on a plane.  

It's kind of a cruel twist of fate now that I think about it. 

What about all those nights I spent trying to grade research papers before my class?  Now that would have been a great time for time to stand still.  

Or all those times in high school when I was making out with my boyfriends right before curfew.   

Life is so ironic sometimes.  

Ironically, yesterday was one the most ironic days ever.  

If I were Alanis Morrisette I would write a song about my flight home.

So I was at the SLC airport with my twins waiting for our flight to Denver.  Two hours it was delayed, which was great for me because I got to maximize the free airport wi-fi and communicate with the universe at the same time.  

But I also had more time to stew in the anxiety of having a 14 year old daughter who was going to be flying as an unaccompanied minor from Los Angeles to San Francisco and then then on to Honolulu.  

Long boring story short, our fam had to split up for our flights back to Hawaii due to frequent flyer availability.  My daughter's story is more complicated because she hasn't been home since we left for New York so her ticket was a super cheap web of multi-destination connections.  

By the time my twins and I arrived in Denver our connecting flight to Honolulu was long gone. 

Bummer?  Helk no!  Getting to spend more time in an airport without my hub is always a partay!  Especially if you think to yourself "Hmmm, my hub is not here, I think I'll blow a hundred bucks today on caramel peacan apples and house magazines."  

My twins and I entertained ourselves by doing relay races and then the moonwalk on the escalator walkways.  

And I bought a the book, Julie and Julia, which is first official food porn book I've ever read. Mariko might love it, but I'm a bit of a prude when it comes to making omelettes.  

But the ironic part of the day was the serendipitous rebooking of our flight.  All I did was pick up the phone and United had already rebooked us on a flight to Los Angeles and then San Francisco and then Honolulu . . .

WITH MY DAUGHTER!   

Do you think Murphy has a crush on me, or what? 

Sure I had to make 3 extra stops and spend 7 extra hours en route, but it was WITH MY DAUGHTER!!!  

So I'm back in Hawaii now! 

HI MARTHA!  Can you hear my hub snoring from your bedroom window?  Is it making your brain twitch? 

I gots to go make some powdered milk for our stale cereal, but I just wanted to thank you all for you comments yesterday.  I really needed them because I had four extra hours to bust my brain trying to remember what the universe doesn't want me to forget.  

Remember the Alamo?  Remember the Titans?  Remember the Holocaust?   

Remember who you are and what you stand for? 

Maybe I just need to remember what my sis-in-law kept saying:  "Oh Crash, it all boils down to the "F" word . . . (awkward pause and coy smile) . . you just gotta have FAITH!" 

Silly goose Utards, always trying to push the envelope. 

Maybe I just need to remember that no matter where I go and no matter how much time it takes me to get there or how many stops I have to make, sometimes MORE is less and LESS is more . . . more or less . . . especially when I'm with my daughter.

Does that make sense?

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Remember!

I'm sitting in the SLC airport responding to all my comments via their free wi-fi.

FREE WI-FI!!!!!

IN AN AIRPORT!!!!!

How cool is that?
Only in Utah! And only in Utah will the airport police dude give your kids a high five when you go through security.

Maybe I'm gonna like it here after all.

But only begrudgingly--with arms folded across my chest and mouth puckered into a frowny face. (And don't you dare try to turn that frown upside down either.)

Yesterday I expressed my gratitude that I don't have to create an alter ego to cope with reality. And then I said that with a gallon of Mountain Dew and a few tricks reality just ain't that hard to cope with.

Well I spoke too soon because yesterday I had a few mini momentary lapses of reason. In fact I'm thinking of marketing a new weight loss program. All you have to do is move from Hawaii after 18 years and you'll sweat your eyeball out. I've lost at least 10 lbs this week alone. And I haven't even started packing yet.

It's a good thing the universe is so darn nice because every time I burst into tears and shake my fists at the sky screaming WHY GAD WHY????? the universe sends me a sign that I am moving in the right direction.

Mahalo Universe.

But last night my hub and I were huddled in bed whispering in the dark. "Are we crazy to make like a tree and leaf our life in Hawaii for a gallon of Mountain Dew?" I said.

"Let's ask the universe," my hub said.

So we did.

Then I pulled the covers up to my chin and stared into the darkness.
"What are you doing?" My hub finally said.

"I'm waiting for the sign," I told him.

"What sign?" he said.

"The sign from the universe. It should be coming any minute."

Just then my Rockstar brother's black cat burst into our room and zipped across our bed.

"Is that the sign?" my hub asked.

"No," I told him. "That was just a black cat crossing our path."

The signs are usually more subtle than that, right?

I have a few tricks up my sleeve to cope with my new reality. I'm going to pretend I still live in Hawaii. That might make the transition easier on all of us. I have years of photos and stories from Hawaii so in blog time I will begin living my life backwards. You will never even realize I'm actually in Utah living my life forwards.

But I'm not very good at make-believe and pretending so maybe that won't work.

Maybe I could fly back to Hawaii twice a year and stay with Martha for a month. We will make bread together and pasta salad and swirly cupcakes for Kute Kasey.

Maybe I will fly all my Hawaii girlz here and we'll buy a purple van and we'll take a road trip. Like Thelma and Louise, only younger and cooler and more righteous.

We'll seriously blog our way across America. Just like we planned.

Remember girlz? Remember the plan?


HEY!  I think I just got my sign. 

REMEMBER! 

I just remembered that my Rockstar brother has these signs all over in his house:


When you walk out the front door or when you go to the bathroom or when you sit down to play the piano you are confronted with these signs. 

And they make you think, "Remember what?" 

And then you start worrying that you might forget to remember what you can't remember you didn't want to forget.

It's my sign!!! 

The universe is trying to tell me to REMEMBER something!!!! 

I love being able to read the universe's mind.





(Psssst.   What do you think the universe wants me to remember?)

Monday, July 27, 2009

I don't know why my life is so exciting!

But it just is! 

Even when I'm in the middle of nowhere famous people flock to me.    

I had not one, but TWO famous people sightings while at Island Park with my in-laws.  

The first was a childhood heartthrob of mine, Pepe Le Pew:



I think he was stalking me because I caught him in the window well outside of one of the cabin bedrooms.  

In case you were wondering, YES, he is a huge Casanova in real life (although the Peeping Tom thing was a little creepy).

He totally marked his territory.   I would have gagged nearly to death if he hadn't been a French skunk.   (You guys, the French stench is way more romantic than the American stench.)  

Speaking of stench . . . are you sitting down?   

Go grab a chair, girlz.  Guess who else was stalking me?
 
EDWARD CULLEN.  

No lie.  He was totally in my cabin last night, flying around.  He scared the bejeepers out of my nephews and unfortunately my hub is the jealous type so he chased him around as if he were a bat outta helk.  

I don't know why men don't get the whole smokin' hot vampire thing.  

I told my hub he looked like a lunatic running around with that broom trying to smack Edward senseless, but as usual he tried to turn it back on me saying I was the looney tunes.  

"He's harmless!"  I yelled.  "He probably just wants to watch me sleep!" 

Shoots!  This could have been me last night, peeps.
  

I'm just so thankful for my super sensitive magnetic force field so I don't have to create an alter ego to cope with reality.  

Not that reality is hard to cope with.   If you have tricks.  And a gallon jug of Mountain Dew.  

OMGOSH!  Look what I get just for switching to the Dark Side and moving to Utah. 

You too can your own gallon mug of Mountain Dew for only $7.99. 

And they have Mountain Dew Freezes here too!


And I think I can get my own Mountain Dew clock if I sweet talk the manager at Gas-n-Go.



So, I'm back from Island Park and I got to ride the whole way in the back seat with my MIL. She really knows how to make like a Yak and YAK!  I got to hear all of her observations about who said what to whom and when and where and why (can you believe it, bless their hearts, not to be rude, just sayin').

I also got to play the cloud game.  Well, I never actually jumped in to play, but I got to ignore my MIL while she was playing the cloud game.  

(It was a better than poking her in the eye). 

In the clouds she saw a duck, Abraham Lincoln, and a one-legged man laying on his back smoking.  

Alls I could see was a straight jacket and a bottle of Tylenol, but I didn't say a thing.

  
Well, I'm going to hit the sack, but Mahalo everyone for your sweet, witty, supportive, rude comments in my box yesterday.  As GAD as my witness I will respond to every single one of you . . . tomorrow.  I'm too pooped to pop tonight.  

(I'm actually writing this post with my eyes closed.)

G'night everybody.  May tomorrow be a perfect day!

Friday, July 24, 2009

The Moving Thing

I feel so much better now that I finally got that off my chest and can talk about it freely.

The moving thing, that is.

Ain't that just the way it goes? Secrets and lies are like big ole chains around your psyche.


Thank you for all of the virtual hugs and words of consolation you offered in my comment box.

I appreciate you bringing to my attention all the good things about moving to Utah, like reading Playboy for the articles and being unable to buy contraceptives on Sunday.

And thank you Kritta 22 for pointing and laughing and calling me a Utard.

I also appreciate those of you who were honest enough to say "EW!" and admit you were just using me for my super hot surfer dude boyfriend.

But I especially want to thank Julie Youngblood for answering slash confirming all my questions about plastic surgery (and for handing me a tissue).

But I'm going to have to poke Martha in the eye for refusing to give me a hug. Now that smarts, Martha! But then I'm divorcing her too so I don't blame her.

SNIFF!

Wesley's mom brought up a painful point. I will no longer be able to bring you photographs of Jack Johnson's underwear. Can you guys ever forgive me?

That point was like salt in the wound, but I promise, on my honor, as GAD as my witness, no crossies, that I will do my duty to seek out other celebrity underwear for your entertainment pleasure.

I am still at Island Park family reunioning with my IL's and they are giving me a crash course in what to expecting when you're expecting to live in Utah.

While we were trying to decide if we SHOULD or SHOULD NOT move they were courting us--wining and dining us, using their indoor voices, writing us lub notes and offering gifts.

We are now the proud owners of a pinball machine named Tommy,btw.

But as soon as we made the committment things changed. There have been no lub notes and very little wine. All we are getting now are earfuls of talk about how things are on "this side" of the ocean, and there may or may not be subtle insinuations that we may or may not be able to "handle it."

My SIL says people WORK OUT in her neighborhood. They do MARATHONS here. They go to BOOT CAMP to lift WEIGHTS with all the Relief Society sisters. How crazy is that? I always thought you went to boot camp to lay out under the stars and roast marshmellows with your boots.

And they eat all natural chocolate here. They don't just eat it either, they sell it. They have parties and sell it. You can also have parties to sell jewelry if you want. And modest clothes. And oxycodin.

Who says they don't know how to party in Utah?

And Disneyland was right . . . it IS a small world after all.

Yesterday I was hanging out with my neice and nephew and they were showing me their photo albums on FACEBOOK and guess who's picture popped up?

BARBALOOT!

I was like, that's my friend. And they were like NO, that's MY friend. And vice versa.

We got in this huge wax-on/wax-off crouching-lion-hidden-dragon-kung-fu-panda fight about it.

As it turns out Barbaloot is practically related to me. My BIL is her bishop, my nephew went on a date with her, my niece spent the weekend in Park City with her, my niece's husband played soccer with her and my SIL watches The Bachelorette with her every week.

How's that for Twilight Zone?

(Speaking of Twilight Zone, I better finish my story, huh?)

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

WAAAHHHH!

Pardon the interuption to my Twilight Zone sequel, but it's time to be blunt. As Tim O'Brien would say, it's time to heat up the truth and make it burn.

And believe me the truth does burn.

My grandma is not the only one with secrets and lies.

I totally lied when I said there's something ungodly about St. George. I lub St. George and it didn't singe my eye lashes off either, although Funny Farmer was right when she said it should have because anyone who uses their free agency to vacation in St. George in July deserves to have their eye lashes singed off.

I also lied about being duct taped to my in-laws at Island Park. We DID drive here together in a caravan and we DID eat together at Chuck-A-Rama and we ARE staying together in the same cabin, but there is no duct tape involved.

I have my boundaries.

I also have my secrets.

My latest secret is that I'm sad. I've been sad for weeks now actually--ever since I was at the Statue of Liberty where my hub received a phone call from BYU Provo asking him if he wanted to transfer.

Of course we don't want to transfer!!! I screamed into the phone before my hub smacked me in the head.

But of course we want to tranfer. Our whole family is waiting for us with open arms (and rolls and rolls of duct tape).

So why does my stone cold heart feel so heavy I can barely lug it around?

Waaaahhhhhhh!

I can hardly bring myself to say the words.

Deep breaths . . . Inhale . . . Exhale.

We.

R.

Moving.

There I said it.

And now I'm bawling my brains out.

Waaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!

I NEED A HUG!

(btw, if you want to clear a room start bawling your brains out at a family reunion.)

I knew this time would come. But I never thought this time would come. You get me?

We have been Hawaiians for 18 years.

Sniff.

Even though Hawaii had committment issues and never got down on one knee to offer us a happily-ever-after I feeeeeeeeel like I'm getting divorced.

No, I feel more like I'm leaving my super hot surfer dude boyfriend to run off with another state. An older, colder, more practical state. A state with more beehives in it's bonnet.

I'm running off with the state of Utah.

I'm putting down roots.

Which means I'm officially . . .

. . . a grown up.

Waaaaaahhhhhh!

What if they don't like dummies in Utah? What if they whisper behind my back? What if they judge me?

What if I get caught in a snow drift and no one notices I'm gone until Spring?

Will I have to get breast implants to fit in? Will I have to keep the sabbath day holy? Will I have to pretend to like country music?

Waaaaaaahhhhh!

I guess I should look on the bright side. I can finally pick up that porn and prozac addiction I've been putting off.

Will you guys still read me when I'm married to Utah and addicted to porn and prozac? Or were you just using me to get to my super hot surfer dude boyfriend?

At least I will finally be around people who can tell me exactly what I should and shouldn't do. And after I learn it all I can tell you guys exactly what you should and shouldn't do too.

I'm here to serve.

And please.

I know I will learn to lub my new hub and we will live happily ever after til death do us part to infinity and beyond.

But ftr, my stone cold heart will always belong to my super hot surfer dude boyfriend.

(waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!!)

Does anyone have a tissue?

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

The Twilight Zone Part I

Help! I've fallen and I can't get up!

Seriously, peeps. I'm duct taped to my in-laws in the middle of bee-U-tiful Ideeho at a cabin in Island Park with no internet or cell phone reception. (btw, did you know that the Ideehoans spell their state Idaho? whodathought!)

I miss you peeps! I really really MISS YOU! There better be internet and cell phone service in Heaven, otherwise I might have to raise some major helk.

I am going to publish a post I wrote in the car while I was driving home from St. George. It's not complete, and I can't add the photos because it's hard to move your hands when you're duct taped to your in-laws, but it's better than no post of all.

Am I right or am I right?

This post was inspired by a stop in southern Utah to see my grandmother on the way home from St. George.

..................................................

I started writing when I was nine years old. I was trapped in the Twilight Zone at the time.

The Twilight Zone is a tiny isolated town in the middle of southern Utah called Mt. Carmel.

Directly across the street from Mt. Carmel perches a mountain called Sugar Knoll.

Sounds awfully sweet, doesn't it? You'd think so, but too much sugar can give you cavities, you know.

I have a lot of emotional cavities.

Every summer my dad would load us up into his purple VW van and drive us 4 hours south past all the sage brush and red rock to the Twilight Zone. My mom never came. The Twilight Zone had taken it's toll on her by then, just as it eventually would on all of us.

When I was nine I didn't understand how deep and wide the emotional cavities in my dad's family ran. And I certainly didn't understand the ties that bound their family to a little old house on Tait Lane where my grandmother was born out of wedlock in 1924.

But shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh . . . that's a secret. Everything that happened in the Twilight Zone is a secret.

And what isn't a secret is twisted and distorted beyond recognition.

But I didn't know that then. All I knew was that there was no running water. No T.V. No phone. No bathroom. And no sugar (despite all the sugary sweet knolls and mountains.)

There was no food either.

Well, there were promises of food too. Lots and lots of empty promises. Juicy pork chops and garlic mashed potatoes smothered in gravy. Corn on the cob dripping in butter. Cold sweet watermelon. Icee lemonade. But whenever we sat up to the table, either the adults had already eaten most of it or they had changed their mind to egg salad sandwich and a bowl of canned peaches.

My grandmother is extremely gifted. She's the only one I know who can spend 5 hours preparing egg salad and opening a can of peaches. I think it took her so long because she was always so busy receiving revelation for her family members.

Somehow she had a direct line to the powers that be. She knew what everyone should and shouldn't be doing. I think it was because she was so spiritually in tune.

One thing she knew for sure was that children should wash the dishes and then go outside and leave the adults alone to quote scriptures and cry about all of our dead loved ones.

They cried a lot about our dead loved ones. Especially when we children needed things, like a ride home from the Thunderbird motel pool in Orderville after all the local kids tried to drown us. Sometimes we walked the whole two miles home before they were done crying about our dead loved ones.
TO BE CONTINUED

Saturday, July 18, 2009

WARNING

Today my SIL said, " I have a feeling we are going to get left out of your blog completely."  

I was like "What is there to say about you guys?  You're all normal.  And we're all having fun together. No one wants to see a happy normal family playing Dominoes or Bananagrams or boating their brains out."  

But I could say something about St. George.  If you've ever been outside for 6 hours straight in St. George you notice things.  Like, there is seriously something ungodly about St. George.  I think the sun here has made a pact with the Devil.  The sun-screen devil.  Yesterday I spent $11 on a bottle of sun screen.  Today it is completely gone and my children are charbroiled to a krispy kreme. 

We come from HAWAII, for goodness sake!  They shouldn't be krispy kremes.

Boating your brains out in St. George is like speeding into a burning pit of helkfire and tamnation.

If America was a Golds Gym, St. George would be the biggest, hottest sauna in the clubhouse.  

When you open your front door in St. George you might as well be opening an oven door.   

You know how sometimes you open your oven door and then you stick your head in and then you singe your eyebrows off?   Well something similar happened to me today.   After spending six hours at Sand Hollow Lake I no longer have any eye lashes.   

And I have 3rd degree burns on my buns from sliding into the car.  OWWIE!  I totally forgot to bring my oven mitts, but luckily I found a pair of my FIL's winter gloves under the seat to sit my burned booty upon. 

And can I just say that Utah could take a lesson from Hawaii when it comes to a pleasant swimming environment.

Today when we paid our $10 to enter lake helkfire and tamnation there was a large sign that said WARNING: Swimmers Itch is ACTIVE today accompanied by a pamphlet telling us to swim at our own risk.  

In Hawaii swimmers itch means you're anxious to get to the beach, but in Utah it means BEWARE of floating parasites--RASH AHEAD! 

That's just TMI.  If there are parasites in the water, I don't want to know about it.  Especially when it's 115 degrees outside.  

In Hawaii, we know when to put our hands over our ears and say LA LA LA LA LA!  There are no signs that say WARNING: Shark Infested waters or JELLY FISH are ACTIVE today.

Warning signs are a just mind games spelled backwards.  The whole time we were boating our brains out everyone kept saying "Man, I feel itchy!"  And scratching is just like yawning.  When one person starts scratching, everyone starts scratching. But when we all came home NO ONE had a rash.   Go figure! 

And that's not the only example of unpleasant swimming experiences in Utah.  Have you ever been to the water park at Lagoon?  

First of all they pour ice cubes in their water.  Is it just me or can you really call a river lazy if your lips are turning blue? 

And their safety first policy puts a huge damper on your day.  Seriously!  Safety is such a drag. There is absolutely no adrenaline rush when you go down their water slides because 1.  They make you wait 10 minutes after the slider in front of you has exited the pool.  2.  They make you wear a seat belt.  3.  It's illegal to talk on your cell phone as you slide. 

But the biggest buzz kill of all was the back ground music.  You know how usually a water park cranks Van Halen or The Villiage People?  Well at Lagoon they hired Casey Kasem, gave him some demerol and made him repeat the pool requirements over and over again.  

These are word for word, peeps.  I kid NOT: 

1. Do not swim if you have diarreah or have had diarreah in the last two weeks.

2. For the safety and comfort of all swimmers, do not swallow pool water or get pool water near your mouth. 

3. Individuals who experience incontinence are required to wear diapers. 

4. Please take regular bathroom breaks and wash child's bottom with soap and water before re-entering the pool.  


You can only imagine what was on our mind as our teeth were chattering in the lazy river.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

But thanks for asking!

You wanna hear a funny story?  


Right now I'm on vacation.  In St. George.  With my family.  


MY side of the family.  Which means we didn't eat at Chuck-A-Rama today, we ate at Mongolian BBQ.   Well some of us did--those who hadn't just poured themselves a bowl of cereal.


It also means that my apostate brother is here.  Remember my apostate brother?  


Well we've been chillaxing together.  Laughing.  Talking.  Eating.  Swimming. The works.


Then suddenly tonight he says to me, "So you haven't blogged today." 


"I'm on vacation!" I said. 


"But you didn't blog yesterday either.  I keep checking your blog for the update and there's nothing."   


I was like, "Are you worried I'm going to say something embarrassing about your spandex biking outfit?" 


And he was like, "No, I just want to see what's going on in your life." 


"UUUUUUHHHHHHH!  DUDE!  I'm right HERE!  In front of you.  You can ask me what's going on yourself!"


Is that the funniest story you've ever heard, or what?  


So if you don't mind, I'd like to take this opportunity to tell my apostate brother what's going on in my life.  


Dearest Stephen, right now I'm on vacation in St. George.    


With YOU!  


But thanks for asking. 

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Episode III--Return of the Snuggie

My job is NOT to make you wish you were there, it's to make you feel you were there.  I already wished you were there.  Believe me, it wasn't the same without you.  At the Olive Garden.  

Why else would I be waxing and waning about it for three days in a row? 

I want you to see what I see.  And feel what I felt.   

So stop your whining and sit your booty down so I can tell you a story.  

A story about a girl who grew up in P.R.O.V.O.   Who always felt like less.  But dreamed of being more.

It's not a story of love and glory.  

It's not even a story of a man named Jed who barely kept his family fed.  

It's a story about a girl who drove the family station wagon with the hood duct taped down.  A girl whose muffler fell off every 3 blocks.  A girl who had to thread the seat belt through the door handle to keep the car door closed.  

This was a girl who did NOT want to fall apart.  

One day while stopped at a light with her li'l sis, the hood of the family station wagon popped up and the muffler dropped.  She looked at her sister and her sister looked back.  And then The Safety Dance came on the radio.  It was like serendipity.  So she let go of her seat belt. 

The door swung open and she began to laugh.  And her sister began to laugh.  

And they laughed and laughed and laughed until tears were streaming down their cheeks.  

Suddenly she knew exactly who she was (and what she stood for). 

She was a crash test dummy.   

Little did she know that one day a famous slutty snuggie would be bedazzled in her honor by a famous slutty blogger.  

 

Actually that slutty blogger doesn't bedazzle. She just pimps out Jilly Bean to do it for her.

Brittany from Author Bee and Jilly Bean

But I don't judge.  I just lub.  And anyway, there's no one I'd rather share a snuggie with than Kristina P.




Except maybe my BBFF, Lisa.


I think Kristina P's snuggie is magic because as soon as you slip it on, it brings out your innermost secret desires. 

I secretly want to be Donny Osmond and Shelle secretly wants to be a hot blogging mama. 


I mean Shelle wants to be a drunken sailor. 


Barbaloot secretly wants to be Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. 


A very seductive Dorothy. 



So my hub and my super model daughter made a surprise appearance.  Get this!  Julie Youngblood thought my hub was HOT!  And yes, Julie I told him that! (Someone's gotta tell him.)

And my MIL made a guest appearance too.  So I made her do tricks for my peeps.  

I said, "Say Oh GAD!"  And she did. 

Then I said, "Say honest to Pete!"  And she did. 

Then I said, "Say oh my goodness, twice!"  And she did.   

Then she tried to steal all my friends from me.  



(Do you think she's jealous about the bread and jam?)

And finally, my rockstar brother crashed my party and went around asking all my famous friends for their autographs.  He was totally STAR STRUCK!  I have photographic evidence. 



After all my family stopped crashing my partay, we finished off our meal with fortune cookies.  You know what that means, right?  wink wink. 



Kristina P.'s fortune cookie said "Measure often, but cut only once."  




hee hee hee

Hey, I'm just the messenger.


That was pretty much it, peeps. The only thing you really missed was me giving out autographs on Caramacs.



Does anyone want to see what The Nutty Hamster Chick's car looks like? Huh?  Huh?  Huh?



I would show you mine, but I can't remember where I put it.

Last, but not least, does anyone want to see what the newest member of our blog bunch brat pack looks like? 



This is Debbie from Cranberry Fries.  Isn't she cute as a button.  Ya'll need to scoot on over to welcome her to the hood. 

LY everyone!  

The lunch would have been so much better if you had been there (and if I had actually eaten some breadsticks and salad.)

Monday, July 13, 2009

Part II--In which the dummy answers questions

It's almost 2:00 a.m. and I'm lying here in the dark at my Rockstar brother's house reading my comment box.  

Shucks, peeps, I seriously want to sweat my eyeballs out right now.  You guys are so tamn sweet.   I feel like I'm reading my year book, minus the have a nice summer/see ya next year/stay 2 cool 4 school.  

Actually I don't feel like I'm reading my yearbook at all.  I feel like I'm reading my eulogy, minus the have a nice eternity/see ya next life/stay 2 hot 4 helk. 

I'm going to comment on my comments on this post so I can kill two birds with one stone and get to bed by 2:30.   (My family is so rude.  They think I came here to spend time with them.  I have no idea where they got that idea.) 

NHC: I pinky promise I am nutty. Honest to Pete. And Paul too.

PEOPLE, trust me!  She is a total poser.  Don't let that huge mouth fool you.  She is NOT nutty!  (And there are no hamsters!)  (But she laughs like Galinda from WICKED.  True story.)

She's a very good poser though.  I will admit, no one does Pat's profile pic quite like Pat.  

Except maybe Shelle. 

Shelle, ME, Lisa the Funny Farmer, Pat the Nutty Hamster Chick, Baraloot

Sandi: If I ever do make it to one of these things, I hope somebody brings me homemade bread and jellies too!!

Sandi, I WILL make you homemade bread and jellies, (and I don't even make bread and jellies.) 

Val of the south's bread and jellies were so scrumdidlyumptious.  Especially the strawberry jelly.  YUM-O!  Mahalo Val!


Shelle hit it right on when she said Pat is like the best friend you never had.   Well Val is like the best friend you never had who makes you bread and jam. 


She is so stinkin' easy to talk to.  After everyone left, Val and Pat stayed on and on and on . . . AND on.  We were just like pioneer children.  We talked and talked and talked and talked  . . .  AND talked.  

Until we finally had to take our partay to the ladies room. (TMI) No photographic evidence available.

When I couldn't find my mom's car in the parking lot--I had forgotten to remember not to forget where I had parked  (and what my mom's car looked like)--Val was like "I do this all the time" and she grabbed my keys and took my arm and led me around like a little old lady trying to pop every trunk in the parking lot until we found mine.  Mahalo Val.  

Told ya I was a dummy!

Barbaloot: Maybe Julie and Shelle started conversations that single girls shouldn't listen to...but I did anyway. Best blogger lunch ever.

LOL, Barb.  What a good sport.  She's right.  After everyone left, a few of us stayed on to do some group lunch therapy.  And WOW!  Can I just say that Julie (Youngblood) is so awesome.  You guys would LUB her.  


And you would LUB Shelle too.  


But you would lub them even more together.  I had no idea those two girls were so . . . lively.  I had to cover my ears and repeat La la la la la over and over.  

Best group lunch therapy ever! 

Anjeny: Did you guys do the tim tam slam then? I want to see photographic evidence, ya hear? LOL

OMGOSH, Anjeny, we totally forgot to do the Tim Tam Slam.  I even forgot to eat my lunch.  After I drove away, I thought to myself, "MAN, I AM STARVING!'  Seriously.  I didn't even get around to eating a single breadstick.   And I left a $12 tip.  LOL! 

Everyone else seemed to find time to eat though.




I did pass around Tim Tams, but I only took one blurry photo of Val eating it.  


And then I took a few photos of everyone eating Japanese 'Rice Crackers.  Go figure!





I think this is when Barb said "Hmmm, next time I need to pack something I can just use a bunch of these. They're just like styrofoam."

BOOO!

Hey, I gotsta go. It's 9 a.m. not and my hub is pulling me out the door again.

Part III coming tomorrow with photographic evidence of my MIL trying to steal my friends and my Rockstar brother looking starstruck and me and Kristina P. in a snuggie built for two.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

My Grand Slam--part I

Photographic evidence coming soon, (because I brought the wrong downloading cord) but I MUST tell you what it's like to meet your blog buddies before I burst at the seams.  

Okay, so I started my journey to the Provo Olive garden with nothing more than a handful of butterflies in my belly and a jealous GPS in the palm of my hand.  That GPS hates me, I know it, which only confirms my suspicion that she is having a fling with my hub.  First she runs me around every which way and then tells me I'm off course in that smug little voice of hers.  

But even that trampy little GPS couldn't mess with my mojo yesterday.  Unbeknownst to her I actually do know my North from my South (depending on which direction I'm facing). 

I'm trying to find just the right words that will help you understand what it's like to be speeding along the freeway towards the Olive Garden to meet your blog friends.  

All I can think to say is it's soooooo weird.  I mean, it's soooooo stinkin' weird.  You do things you wouldn't normally do.  Like squeal.  And speed.  And tear up when David Archuleta sings on the radio.   

It's like the ultimate group blind date, only it's not because you know these people.   And they know you.  

You have a history together.  Inside jokes.  You've laughed together and cried together.  But you've never seen each other.  

The weirdest part isn't seeing your blog friends for the first time, it's hearing them.  You've heard their voice in your head a thousand times, but you've never really heard it, you know. 

The first person I saw was the Nutty Hamster Chick.  We raced into each other's arms like long lost sisters and we couldn't stop hugging and jumping up and down.  

It was SO weird to hear her speak.  

No, it was SOOOO weird to watch her speak.  She surprised me the most of anyone.  

YOU GUYS, there is nothing nutty about the nutty hamster chick.  And there were no hamsters either.  It's all a big act.  She pretends to be a loony stalker,  but she is lovely and poised and surprisingly serene.  She never interrupts you when you speak.  How can you not interrupt people when they speak?  How can you not finish their sentences and hurry them along and help them spit out what they are trying to say?  She just listens. 

And then I saw Julie Youngblood and Barbaloot and Debbie from Cranberry Fries.  We all hugged and I then I just stared at them and jumped up and down and giggled.  I looked down at Barb's feet and she was wearing her tiny ruby red slippers and I squealed as if I was seeing Jack Johnson for the first time.   

Then suddenly we saw Kristina P coming.   We jumped behind out of sight so we could ambush her, which we did.  It was sooooooooo weird to see Kristina P.  And yet it wasn't.  She is exactly as I pictured her to be.  A freakin' rock star.  A cool cool cat.  Little Miss Thing.   She brought Brittany from Author Bee and Jillybean.  They brought me a surprise.  And let me just say that Jilly Bean is the best bedazzler ever.  Photographic evidence tomorrow.

Then came SHELLE BELLE from Blokthoughts.  Aaaaaah.  She is a total belle with a capital B. She is EXACTLY the same as she is on her blog.   Adorable and funny and sweet and sassy.  We laughed and laughed and I felt like we'd been twins forever.   I especially enjoyed listening to her and Julie Youngblood talk about (s.e.x.).  Julie is the cutest thing ever.  I totally dig her.

Then my BFF Lisa, the Funny Farmer came with The Crazy Lady from Dancing Together Through Life, who is not crazy at all, btw.  I was so excited to meet Lisa because she discovered my blog and catapulted me into the limelight.  She encouraged me and made me believe in myself and showed me the ropes.  And you should see her in a snuggie.  She looks surprisingly sexy.  Photographic evidence coming tomorrow.  

Then came VAL OF THE SOUTH, who knocked my socks off.  She is so vivacious and fun and talkative and open-hearted.  She brought me homemade bread and jars of Jellies.  

Oh Gad!  Oh my goodness!  Oh my goodness!  Honest to Pete.  My hub is pulling me out the door and I still have so much to say.  I pinky promise I will write part II tomorrow--complete with photographic evidence of everyone, including my MIL, and  the most famous snuggie in Utah. 


Saturday, July 11, 2009

OMGOSH!

Only 20 more minutes until I leave for my Olive Garden Partay!  


What am I going to wear?  


J/K peeps, I'm fully dressed and ready.  I tried everything I own on twice and modeled it for my mom and my super model daughter.  My silly goose mom has been giving me fashion tips and telling me how everyone is wearing things.  And she's lending me jewelry and giving me make up tips.  "Here, try this," she says.  "This will make your face radiate."  And at this very moment my super model daughter is painting my toenails red so I'll have a pop of color.    


My hub just walked in and said "Hmph, I thought you were going to go casual."  


It's not my fault if I look sexy.


I'm so excited to meet my friends. 


Did you know I've never eaten at an Olive Garden in Utah.  I didn't start my love affair with Olive Garden until I lived in New York.   My daughter was less than a year old then and my hub and I used to make her suck on lemons so we could laugh ourselves silly when her face got all screwywampus.


I've tried many times since to eat at the OG in Utah, but with my family we'll say "where should we go eat?" and everyone will say "Oh, we've already eaten."  End of conversation.


With my hubs family when we say "where should we eat?" it begins the conversation.  


It usually starts with me saying "OLIVE GARDEN!"  And then my FIL saying, "when we ate at the Olive Garden back in 1893, the food just wasn't that good."  


And then my MIL will add, "for the price."  


Then, after two hours of debating the options my FIL finally says "I'll treat if we go to Chuck-a-rama."  


I've only been arrested once.  And it was for poking my MIL's eyes out in Florida.   My BIL found a steak and shrimp place for $2.99. My MIL said "Let's check it out"  which means all 40 of us will bombard the joint.  Half of us will find a table, while the other half will circle around looking down our noses at other peoples plates.  Then, after the waiter brings the menu, we will all get up at once and leave, shaking our heads and saying under our breath, "The food just didn't look that good,  Did it to you?"  


So we drove around for three hours trying to find a better place until we finally ate at Burger King.  


That's when I poked my MIL's eyes out.  


Anyway, gotsta go!  


Lator gators! 

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Til we Me-ee-EAT!

I got the Black Eyed Peas stuck in my head.  Why?  Because if you don't watch their videos or listen to their lyrics they are a ROCKIN' group.  

And also because they remind me of my daughter, who I haven't seen in 3 weeks.  (WAaaaaH!)

But I get to see her tomorrow!  YAY!  


Here she is at 6:00 a.m. after we jumped out of bed and raced to GMA to watch the top of Fergie's head bob up and down.

I think I took this photo right after she said, "MOM!  They are NOT going to play Where is the Love!" 

She was right.  But they played I Gotta Feeling and that was close enough.

I miss my daughter.

So I am super excited about the upcoming Tim Tam Grand Slam partay at the Olive Garden.  But my wise guy hub just said to me, "so are you guys going to sit and blog each other around the table or are you actually going to talk?" 

Hardy har har, hubba bubba!  (Such a card!) 

Guess what I did yesterday?  I went shopping!  

For Partay supplies.  

So excited!!  

I got Kristina P.  an As Seen on T.V. surprise.    And I got sea weed!  And fortune cookies! And Caramacs!  And Tim Tams!!!!!  

I even got extra Tim Tams just in case DeNae and Melanie J show up (crossing my fingers and hoping to die).  

And I got extra Caramacs in case my BBFF, Funny Farmer shows up.  (please, please, pretty palease!)

And I'm bringing Annette Lyon's book about towers in case she shows up to autograph it. What's that book called?  The Two Towers.  No . . .  The Twin Towers.  No . . .  

Towers of Strength.

Sorry, but I have a thing for tower jokes.  I'm just glad Annette didn't title it Pillars of Strength. That is so last year. 

I totally knew the title because I just finished reading it and putting it on my Crash Test Dummy Book Club list.  I RECOMMEND it for your summer reading. Romance between two towers (especially twin towers) is so much more enjoyable in the summer when you're lazing around (unless your kids are lazing around too).  

But fo' real, I was totally charmed.  Go read Annette Lyon!  


And now back to our regularly scheduled program . . . 

Where was I?  

Oh yes!  So excited!  I even got a new haircut for our grand slam.  I went to the Kahuku Barber and handed over $18 and a photo of a super model and said, "I want to look like this."  

My barber shook her head and said, "Your hair is too curly.  Too dark.  Too course.  It will never look like this." 

So I gave her a $2 tip and said, "well, at least try to make my face look like this."  

Unfortunately my face is the same, but my hair is chopped, peeps.  Karate chopped!  

I did it because Martha did it and I have to keep up with the Jonesez.

On my way home from shopping for the partay guess who sang to me on the radio?  

John Mayer.  

He was telling me to say what I need to say.  It made my eyes sweat because it reminded me of all you guys and this blog and all the things I've needed to say that you've listened to and all the things you've needed to say that I would have listened to if I didn't have adult onset ADD.  

Just thinking of all the buckets we've carried together made me send a gratitude prayer out into the universe for all the support and encouragement this past year.  I feel so close to you guys.  (As close as a dummy can get without banging her head on her stone cold heart.)

And I also sent a prayer out into the universe that no one at the partay would be prettier or wittier than me (besides Shelle Belle).

Anyway . . . what are you guys going to wear? 

Oh, I can't wait to meet you.  I only wish I could bring my Hawaii buds with me--Anjeny and Iwa and Martha and Swirl and Mariko!  It's going to be hard to spread the aloha spirit without them.  

LY Hawaii buds!  

And LY all of you who don't live in Provo, but who will be going to an Olive Garden near you at exactly 11:00 a.m to join us via satallite.  

And LY all of you lurkers out there who aren't doing anything except shouting at your computer screen, "Hands down I'm prettier and wittier than that hoity toity dummy." 

I'm leaving tonight so this will be my last post before the GRAND SLAM!   



Gad be with you till we meet!



Wednesday, July 8, 2009

I've always wanted to do a Wordless Wednesday

But I just can't.  

I can't!  I can't!  I can't! 

If I could be wordless on a Wednesday I would use this photo as seen through my very own windshield:


But then I would have to title it something like Only in Hawaii,  or Thema and Louise Going Coconuts, so it still wouldn't be WORDLESS.

I actually wanted to do a Wordless Wednesday post called Just For Rachel Sue because I blew her mind when I said that kids still play pogs in Hawaii.




Oh yes, Rachel Sue, pogs are very much alive and well in Hawaii.  

In fact they come back in style every three months or so.  

In Hawaii every house has a title like The Train House or The Canoe House or The Quiet House.  Our house is called The Pog House.  

Here is the view from my front door:


This is the whole neighborhood (minus that one kid) playing pogs.  

Ain't ya glad I can be educational as well as entertaining?

But I don't want to be educational or entertaining today because I just want to make you feel sorry for me.  

I had my first sports injury last night.  I was playing tennis and my hub was trying to push me, challenge me, make me run my buns off when SUDDENLY! I reached a little bit too far, tried a little bit too hard .  I was stretched out in mid air when I felt it . . . a blood-curdling, mind-numbing, brain-bending rrrrrriiiiippppp in my calf muscle.

AAARRRRG!  

It hurt so bad I almost fainted.  I seriously had to lie down on the bleachers like a little girl so I wouldn't pass out.  

Finally I know what it feels like to be a real athlete.

Or an old lady.  

Luckily it was my left leg because I'm right footed. 

I am much better today, thank you.  Hobbling around and limping along.    

But I won't be able to beat my Rockstar brother in tennis when I get to Utah, Tamnit!  


Allow me to close with an unrelated thought: 

Wouldn't it be cool if everyone loved each other as much as they loved Michael Jackson?


Tuesday, July 7, 2009

I think I have adult onset ADD

I keep changing my mind about what I want to be when I grow up.  

Last week I wanted to be an alternative underwater hip hop instructor, yesterday I wanted to be a stand up comic, and today I want to be a cake boss.  

I don't like decorating cakes, but I know I would be good at dropping them down the stairs.    

Did anyone see that last night?  That was AWESOME!  I only wish my MIL had been here to watch it with me so I could hear her saying "HONEST TO PETE!  Oh GAD!  Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness!"   

I'm pretty much addicted to Cake Boss now.  But seriously, how much of that show is even real?  I mean, it's all a set up, right?  Pouring muddy water in the frosting, mixing up the cake deliveries, ordering doves and receiving ducks--real life just ain't that exciting unless you plan it in advance.  


So if I was a stand up comic what would I wear?   Maybe a crash test dummy suit and a push up bra? 

And a seat belt.  I would definitely wear a seat belt.  

But what jokes would I tell? 

Maybe I could tell cultural jokes . . . in New York City do people teach their children to look one way before crossing the street?  

Get it?  Look one way.  Cuz all the streets are one way streets.  

Ahhh, I crack myself up. 

Or maybe I could tell nudity jokes . . . so someone hit my blog today with the search words Naked Boat.  Hey, whatever floats their boat.  (Their naked boat, that is.)   

Hardy har har.

Honestly, I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.  Maybe I should be a celebrity blogger.  But I would only tell the good stuff.  Like my friend Colleen, her daughter is doing an internship in Washington D.C. and her friend got to see Hilary Clinton and she said Hilary Clinton is really really really really really pretty in real life.   

I know! Whodathought! 

And I have another friend, Taylor, who taught tennis lessons next door to Martha Stewart's house and she said Martha Stewart is a reverse horse racist.  She won't buy a horse unless it's jet black and she won't ride them unless it's pitch black outside.  

And did you know Regis refuses to carry his own briefcase?  He lives right across the street from the studio where he films Regis and Kelly and every morning at exactly 8:15 he walks across the street with his body guard.  And guess who's carrying the briefcase? 

I have photographic evidence to back this story up:

And he doesn't carry his own umbrella either. 

Unlike Kelly, who comes to work at 4 a.m. and goes running before she goes to make-up. 
 
You learn a lot when you're waiting in the rain for 4 hours snarfing the NBC studio's complimentary hot cocoa and Krispy Kremes.


I wouldn't mind doing that full time when I grow up.


BUT Seriously peeps!  My first public appearance is quickly approaching!  Only 4 more days! I'm so excited to meet all of you.  And maybe I can try out my new stand-up routine and see how it flies.  

I'm going to start a running link list at the top of my blog of who is coming so RSVP in my comment box if you are going to make it so when I show up at 4:00 a.m. to reserve tables I'll have a head count.  

LY everyone!