Throwing compost on the weeds

You know what's better than curling up to Cake Boss when you're sad? Curling up to Cake Boss while simultaneously eating cake batter.

I learned that from my daughter.

But that's not what she did when she found out that her friend had cancer. She did this:

Sometimes it makes you feel better to do nice things for the people who make you want to inhale cake batter.

I also learned that from my daughter.

There are other things, which I didn't learn from my daughter, that make me feel better. Like going to my happy place.

I call it my happy place, but it's actually just a bunch of big ol' fields between the two high schools my kids attend. My daughter wouldn't be caught dead calling a field her happy place, but my other daughter would.

That's right, Lulu and I have the same exact happy place. I'm not sure why we both love it so much. Maybe because it's full of weeds.

Beautiful weeds that grow tall and strong and bloom where they're planted, despite the fact that they're planted among a bunch of weeds.

When we get to our happy place I take the leash and harness off Lulu and let her run free.

I also take the leash and harness off my mind and let it run free to throw compost on the weeds.

Get a load of how artsy fartsy I look when my mind is throwing compost on the weeds.

(Btw, does this photo make my chin look hairy?)

So yesterday Lulu and I were in our happy place and my mind started roaming free about why I'm back here in Utah, and I realized that I'm here as a student, to learn a thing or two, and to challenge the Utah Mormon myths and stereotypes.

(I also came back because my hub was coming back, and I'm a follower if you ever did see one.)

Some of the things I've learned since I moved back to Utah are things I remember learning during my childhood, like how some people have way too much, and others don't have close to enough. But hey, that's life beyond Marxism, even for the Mormons.

Other things I've learned are personal things I've been trying to put my finger on for years, like why I never take anything edible from my MIL.

It's not her fault, it's her technique. She doesn't know how to sell the food she's offering. I'm talking about proper rhetoric. For instance, when offering a piece of cheese she should refrain from saying things like, "I already cut the mold off."

Aged to perfection. That's alls she needs to say. You get me?

Other phrases she should avoid include, "This fruitcake has been in my freezer since 1990," or "These nuts are bland and no one else will eat them, would you like some? I have plenty. No really, I have plenty."

And then there are the Utah stereotypes I've been busting. Like the one about Utah drivers. It is a mystery to me why we have such a bad reputation across the nation. I only see one problem with our driving and I don't blame us, I blame Harry Potter because he is the one who came up with that whole cloak of invisibility dealio.

Utards love the cloak of invisibility, though I concede we need to use it more responsibly when driving. See we don't use it to make ourselves invisible, but rather to make all the other cars on the road invisible. This is the reason our state song is that Beatles hit I'm Looking Through You.

Our cloak of invisibility allows us to become completely unaware of the great other. This is why we don't smile or wave you on, or let you turn in front of us, or scoot over when we are blocking your path. It's nothing personal, we just don't see you there waving hello with your middle finger.

This is also why our greatest crime on wheels is driving 25 mph in the fast lane without getting over.

Can you blame us though? Seriously, how else can we feel like were living in the fast lane without actually putting the pedal to the medal?

While I was in my happy place throwing compost on the weeds I think I may have also busted the myth about Utah's high depression and stress rate.

But I'll save that for next time.