My Quick Fix

I don't think the Universe likes reality t.v. because as soon as I said I wanted a new drug, it gave me a quick fix.

Now my life is super exciting.

~Super exciting, first of all, because I got a cool job.

~Second of all, I got to spend an entire evening chillin' and grillin' at the magic cabin with four dear-to-my-heart families from my old hood in Hawaii. (Okay, okay, it was pouring rain and I made sloppy joes, so we weren't exactly chillin' or grillin' but you get the drift.)

(I also made Martha's pasta salad and for the record Martha is still the reigning queen of pasta salad. When it comes to pasta salad, it appears the only thing I do well is spend hours and hours chopping vegetables with a heart full of love.)

(My camera battery keeled over during dinner, but photographic evidence will be available soon. (Hurry up, Margaret!))

~Third of all, at the very same moment I was chillin' with my Hawaii peeps here in Utah, my ex-door neighbors, Martha and Swirl, were chillin' with my blog peeps in Hawaii.

See, one of my first and favoritest blog readers, Sandi, is there for the birth of her daughter-- Kute Kasey--'s first baby. (P.S. I knew Kute Kasey when she was still a virgin. That's how long I've been blogging.) (P.S.S. I also taught Kute Kasey's hub when he was still a virgin. That's how long I haven't been teaching.)

I was kinda gang green with envy about the whole thing, but Martha and Swirl eased the blow by giving Sandi and Kute Kasey a tour of my former postage stamp yard, and front porch as if it were Graceland. Then they asked the new owners to turn on the porch light so they could get a picture in the very spot where all the magic began.

Someday this picture might be worth more than a thousand words so I decided to autograph it for them.

You're welcome guys.

I mean, thanks guys!

LY!!!

~Fourth of all, I am dogsitting my niece's puppy so I get to double my pleasure for the whole week.

~Fifth of all, my oldest son, who is now in Boston playing basketball with the big boys, and who got to meet Danny Ainge, will once again be in my arms and under my thumb tomorrow night.

~And last, and yet least of all, I am having lunch tomorrow with my hub's ex-girlfriend. Don't ask, but yep, it's the same girlfriend who drove a Trans Am. Yep, same girlfriend I used to fantasize about flinging across the universe by her natural blond pony tail. Yep, same girlfriend I squirted with a water gun while she was slow dancing with my man. (Oooops-a-daisy.)

In a nutshell, it's the same girlfriend who made my senior year kinda les miserables. Kinda la vida miserabla. If you get my drift.

But I'm over it. Totally over it. 27 years later and I'm a big girl now.

Besides, I have no idea what he saw in her anyway.

Mwuaahahahaha.

Kidding, peeps! I am mature enough to admit she was bee-U-tiful.

And that not only did we fight over the same boyfriend, we also fought over the same cheer camp counselor.

I just hope and pray that time has been kind to her. But not too kind. You get me?

(pssssssst . . . do you guys want photographic evidence? Just say the word and I'll recharge my battery before lunch.)

I Want A New Drug!

I totally get Huey Lewis right now. Mostly because I need a new addiction. Something besides my dog and my bed and my car.

Is there rehab for excessive sleeping and disproportionate amounts of driving your children around? Is there a twelve-step program for extreme smiling while walking your dog? I think I need intervention because my cheeks haven't been this sore since my wedding reception.

When I asked my daughter these questions she handed me her Personal Progress book.

"If it's rehab you need, this book will change your life," she said. "But for us normal peeps, who already walk the straight and narrow while holding to the iron rod, it's a real snooze fest."

She's a corker, that one.

Anyways, lately I've been thinking I have way too much love in my heart. For my dog. And my bed. And my kids. I need to temper that love with something . . . I don't know . . . more productive maybe? Like flossing my teeth. Or scrubbing my toilets.

Or maybe I need to do something less productive. Like go inactive. But just between me and you, I can't stomach the thought of the whole ward council discussing ways to reactive me during their meetings, so I've decided on plan B--to watch more reality t.v.

I've made a list of t.v. shows I'm pretty sure I can get hooked on if I try hard enough:

1. The Glee Project
2. Project Runway
3. Celebrity Rehab
4. Love in the Wild
5. The Bachelorette

I'm still on the fence about Finding Bigfoot because can squatches really whistle, knock on trees, and have human conversations with each other as they tromp through the forrest?

I. think. not.

So back to my new drug of choice--reality t.v. I'm totally open. To suggestions. So please advise.

MAHALO!

P.S. Sandi, has Kute Kasey had that gosh darn baby yet?

Top Ten Things I Don't Miss About My Son

My oldest boy is in Indiana at the Hoosier Shootout. I miss him.

No, I don't miss him.

I mean, I do, but not that much.

You get me?

Allow me to illustrate:

TOP TEN THINGS I DON'T MISS ABOUT MY SON

1. I'm HUNGRY!
2. I need a ride. RIGHT NOW!
3. What's for dinner?
4. Can you pick my friends up too?
5. My friends are hungry. What can we eat?
6. I need FOOD! I'm STARVING!!!
7. MMMMMOOOOOOMMMMM! Hurry up! I CAN'T be late!
8. Can you take me and my friends to Seven Peaks?
9. Can we stop at Harts for a drink? I'm thirsty.
10. Can we drive through McDonalds? I neeeeeeeeed a shake!

P.S. You guys know Annette Lyon, right? Theeeeee Annette Lyon? She's in 2nd place of a photo contest. Let's help bump her to 1st. Click on this link and write "I vote for Dad and Daughter" in the comment box.

Thanks peeps! You da bomb diggity dawg.

Keepin' it reals

Soooooo, how was your 4th of July? Mine was goooood too, thanks. Good and bad. But mostly good. Mostly good because we spent the weekend at The Magic Cabin playing tennis and listening to 8-track tapes.

Holy Cannoli that magic cabin is like tripping on a wrinkle in time. You seriously become get dazed and confused about what era you're in.

It's trippy, man. Super trippy.

And groovy too. Super groovy.

You know what else is trippy? Listening to Jethro Toll on 8-track. Especially when your hub is doing his Irish jig slash air flute.

John Denver is trippy on 8-track too, especially when your son is beat boxing to Grandma's Feather Bed. And your hub is doing his Irish Jig slash air fiddle.

The guy's got skillz, what can I say. In fact he's so skilled . . . how skilled is he? He's so skilled he can flex and point his toes all at the same time.

It's trippy, man. Real, real trippy.

I must confess that my hub's famdamily's 8-track collection is kinda fascinating.

But kinda creepy too. Creepiest 8-track tape award clearly went to My Turn on Earth.

"How did you stay members with music like this?" My daughter asked, as sincerely as humanly possible.

What a silly goose daughter. Simple. We grew up with cassette tapes. Everyone sounds like they've been smoking pakalolo on 8-track tapes, even the Mormon Youth Symphony. And Ernie Ford. And Frank Sinatra. And Peter Frampton.

(But I'm pretty sure Peter Frampton never touched pakalolo when he was making cassette tapes.)

After we listened to the family 8-track collection, we watched VHS movies on the VCR, and the 13 inch TV. Namely The Matrix and Braveheart.

Word: Nudity, Medieval warcraft and Keanu Reeves are much easier to stomach at 13 inches.

Just sayin'

After we watched VHS movies, we played Checkers and Scrabble and more tennis. And we drank picante flavored saimin from a heavy glass measuring cup. And then we got bored.

Except me, because I never get bored, so while everyone else was getting bored I was devising ingenious plans. Plotting really. To overthrow my MIL.

See there are only two things I hate, Spagetti-O's and dried flowers. Oh, and hate crimes. I hate hate crimes. But mostly I hate all the dried flowers in the whole wide world.

But my MIL LOVES them, so here's my secret, underground, evil plot: every summer one dried flower bouquet will mysteriously disappear from The Magic Cabin. Mwuaahahahaha

Starting with this one (2011):

And then this one (2012):

And so on and so on and so on.

(2013)

(2014)

(2015)

(2016)

(2017)

Then I will start on the plastic flowers.

(2018)

And the plastic fruit.

(2019)



(2020)

And the plastic cake covers precariously perched atop other plastic cake covers.

(2021)

And finally the silk tulips in my front window box will mysteriously disappear too, because if there's one thing I refuse to make it's a hypocratic oath. 

That should keep me keepin' it reals for at least ten years, eh?

Ingenious, right?