Intracerebral Itinerary

This Site Officially MOVED

2008-09-21T14:01:00.000-07:00

to www.artofseeking.com!
Come visit me! Unless you're a spammer, then you can go to hell!!

PAGE MOVED!!

2008-08-17T17:16:00.000-07:00

Pretty much, anyway.
My new website is UP at www.artofseeking.com. Go see! Leave comments! Make me feel special!! ....or not...

Goals Finally Attainable

2008-08-12T08:09:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since Matt has had teeth that weren't crumbling apart, thanks to a lazy dentist who just didn't prepare his teeth properly before applying braces. That was when he was 17, and since he got together with me when he was 25, I've been trying to locate some avenue he hasn't tried yet. "There's got to be something you can do, I kept saying, and he kept telling me he'd tried everything and people just kept treating him as if he's a drug addict and therefore undeserving of help. They take one look at him, his thinness, his oily skin and his severe ADHD, and assume he has what is known as "meth mouth." The piercings in his eyebrows and his gauged ears don't help much.

We tried the volunteer services, where they were very nice to him on the phone, and when he came in one lady handed him some forms and had him go to the senior center to do volunteer work in exchange for dentistry. But when we got back to the office, we had to talk to the coordinator, who had been cool on the phone- her attitude did a 180 at the sight of Matt. She was so nasty to us that I tried to complain to her higher- ups- who just got back to her, who got back to me, and told me there was nothing I could do to make her treat us any better. If there was anyone I'd just love to throttle, it would be that Nancy M. bitch.

There was a glimmer of hope when we got married that we could get on state- funded insurance called PCN, which covers some dental, and they started taking applications a few moths ago. We were finally approved, but that didn't help Matt get all the services he needed. A friend told us about a dentist who was helping her get free services and we went to see him- but it was the same story all over again. One look at Matt, and here come the nasty questions. "So, are you on methamphetamines?" Of course, when he says he isn't, they refuse to believe him. I thought, what do I have to do, have them call his DAD to validate his story??

But he will do extractions for $7.50 each, leaving us only with the $1000 bill for dentures. Which, I just found out, I can cover with my next student loan! I didn't want to do anymore loans, but it's a pretty low interest rate for what would normally be a lot worse. It actually looks like, soon, Matt will have teeth again. Which means the infections in his mouth that threaten to kill him will go away.

Now all I have to do is keep him from falling off a cliff or something on one of his crazy daredevil adventures.

last night's dream

2008-08-10T15:39:00.001-07:00

I was just minding my own business, trying to find work. It was getting frustrating, as it usually does for a lone mute with a face too pretty for a boy's.
A blacksmith just laughed at me and said something in his language that boomed across the hills and probably frightened sheep twenty miles away.
I wished I could do more than grunt.
There was a fair in town, so I headed toward it. I wandered among the colorful exhibits and pretty tents flapping slightly in the morning breeze, and tried to communicate with the people there at the booths. I would ask them about their trades and if I could be of some help, but the ones who could actually figure out what I was trying to say through my awkward gestures just turned me away. A crude woman ruffled my strawberry blonde hair, pinched my fair skin, and said she knew a man who would pay me for my company. That made me angry, and I nearly threw a fit- then a plain woman with long dirty blonde hair and a strong jaw put her arm around me. "I think you can find a job at the castle," she told me in a soft voice while giving the crude woman and her grinning consort a hard stare. She led me away.
The King's home was apparently also a welfare office of sorts. I waited in a stone room while the woman talked to one of four apparently very busy people behind a counter, their faces as stony as their surroundings. One nodded and the woman came back. "They've got one position left- washing dishes," she said. It wasn't as if I had a choice.
Hours later, I'm still scrubbing dishes. I hate it. I was worth so much more, if anyone would give me a chance, but hey, if you can't talk, you're really nothing more than an animal. An animal who can wash dishes and perform menial tasks.
I was frustratingly attempting to scrape a piece of food from a fancy little dish when the woman came in. She helped me wash the dishes. She ended up finishing the rest of the dishes while I worked on that one stupid dish. The she led me from the room and walked me back to my grass hut.
She looked around at my carvings and looked back at me, her face a question. I took out a piece of wood and my knife, and began to carve the image of her face into it. I handed it back to her. The question in her face turned to amazement, and the next day, she took me back to the castle.
We're back at the same counter, and she's showing them the carving and pointing at me. An escort is called, and I'm led up a flight of stairs, through a labyrinth of increasingly elaborate halls and steps.
That night, I'm carving again, only this time the face I am etching into the wood is the King's.

I'm no longer the boy, but the woman.
The castle where I work and live has everything we need, including a hospital. I've been ill for some time, and they think they know why.
I'm in the gown, lying on the surgery bed. The IV drips a fluid into me. The doctor adds something to the fluid, and I ask him if it is the anesthetic. He doesn't respond.
I wake up in the same hospital bed, the same room, and it's dark. The doctor has turned off the light, but the sounds of the hospital still waft through the open door.

No Time to Blog Lately...

2008-08-08T08:55:00.000-07:00

But I'll try to give you a hint of goings- on before I run off:

We had the biggest, brightest rainbow ever, and it's been kinda rainy. And hot. The whole rainbow wouldn't fit in the frame:

Matt spotted a dragonfly who came to visit our tomatoes:

And I did an impromptu (and very cheesy, but fun) photo shoot with Barbaradell but only Ana had time to come with us and take pictures. She didn't do too badly:

I took the most amazing picture of Barbaradell to date, due to a middle- of- the night inspiration:

And my feet were, once again, inspirational when I had a chance to put them up:

Sorry, no pictures of me running all over the county registering kids for school and going to appointments and setting up my job etc. etc. Oh, and I'm making progress on the drums.
Gotta run!!

old dog vs. new tricks

2008-08-01T14:57:00.001-07:00

So I wanna play the drums. I already play hand drums, in fact I have nine of them. I have half a drum set in storage- bass, snare, couple of toms. But I find myself desperately in need of a high hat.
My teacher is a longtime friend of Matt's and a pretty cool guy. I asked him to teach me since he's the only drummer I know who isn't A. a drunk/ addict, B. a pervert, C. hates teaching, or D. married with a jealous wife who hates me for no reason except that I'm female and not in her clique and know her husband, or E. all of the above. Brian is a great platonic friend, a damn good drummer, and most importantly, won't charge me.

Today was my first formal lesson. I'd thought my left hand was going to give me the most trouble, but was rather surprised when it was my right foot (pictured) who refused to cooperate. This bugged me for quite some time until I figured out what the problem was. First, I had to take off my shoes- apparently I can't drum in clogs- then I had to reorganize my thinking.
I began to see my brain as kind of a teacher, and my appendages as different types of students. Obviously my right hand is my star pupil, and does what I tell it to, unless it's goofing off with the others. My left foot seems stubborn and unwilling at first, then I start to believe it must have a learning disability. So I concentrate solely (haha) on it and am thrilled when it starts to get the hang of things just a little- then I realize that the problem is that my muscles aren't used to moving in that particular way. The solution (special disability equipment)- I will wear my clodhoppers with the giant heavy soles next time.
Then there's my left hand, which I'd assumed would give me the most trouble. In reality it's turned out to be the class clown. It messes around and doesn't always do what I want it to, and starts cracking stupid jokes just when I think I've got the class under control.
My left foot is the new student that I'm told will be joining the class in a few weeks, and I already know it has severe behavioral problems.

Thankfully, my teacher is patient, and even leaves me alone, goes in the next room, and plays music while he does things around the house while I sit in an otherwise quiet room and bang on things. He's genuinely happy to have me for a student and can't wait til he can really be proud of me. I'm not planning on being a disappointment.
My progress promises to be... interesting. But really, I'm stoked. I love drums, and I'm willing to spend time getting this down. I might never be like Danny Kerry, but that's okay, as long as I can play a 6-8 and learn to be more coordinated while having the time of my life.

I have a reputation?

2008-07-30T15:34:00.000-07:00

Apparently, I do. I never thought anyone paid enough attention to me for that to occur. And guess what? It's not a BAD reputation. It has nothing to do with my personal life at all, either. It has to do with my "chosen career" (HAHAHA- sorry, I had to laugh at that term, though I can't think of a better way to put it). People seem to like my work. "People" as in the new editor- in- chief of the new UVU paper, his higher- ups, his lower- downs, and the folks from the morning show on a popular radio station, X96.

There was some sort of "yay it's official, we're UVU now" party at the school while I was out of town for my family reunion a few weeks ago. X96 was there, and when I talked to Jack (the editor- in- chief) yesterday, he told me they were SO hoping I would be there so they could interview me. This after they generously called me a nerd on statewide radio last term. Oh well, we'll banter another time, I guess. X96 tends to cover UVU stuff whenever there's something actually happening there. I'll make it a point to drop in next time they show up.

I'll be writing for the paper still, but now I get PAID for it! All I have to do is join the rest of the (peons) writers on Mondays to stuff ads in the papers, attend the staff meetings, and- oh yeah- write articles before the deadlines.

Sounds good to meeee....

Week in CDs

2008-07-29T08:30:00.000-07:00

WINNERS of the WEEK of library- hounding:

When I tell people I can't stand most modern singers because they all sound alike, and they say "what do you mean?" I'll have to play them some good ol' Etta James. Her voice isn't just outstanding, it's what makes music worth recording in the first place. There are SO MANY resources being wasted on shitty music these days, someone really should call the environmental management folks and put a stop to it.

A great album for listening while cooking with lots of messy ingredients. Not so much for driving.

Here's your driving music, your singing- in- the- shower music, your cleaning music, your anything music. Ella Fitzgerald is another one of those rare and amazing voices that you can't help but love.

Yes, I'm trying to collect all the chanting monk CDs. It's wonderful soothing music for when I have the lights off and the candles and fountain on and I can actually breathe comfortably- for twenty seconds before Matt and his entourage show up and take over the living room with their video games.

What can one say to Miles Davis but, "Hell Yeah!" Solo brass is the only way I really like it, granted it's good and not a fanfare or army bugler. You want an army to wake up? Get Miles Davis out there with a REAL horn, and you'll have the troops jazz- dancing all the way to drills.

This week's "Meh" (no real losers this time):

They're okay. There are a couple of good songs. Kids like it better than me. Mostly there isn't enough interesting note choice to keep my attention.

Where's all the Marty Friedman in these libraries, anyway??

Well. Isn't THAT interesting.

2008-07-27T15:30:00.000-07:00

It's no secret that I have a lot of friends who love marijuana. And I love my friends. However, this one little trivial thing might just cause a bit of a damper in some of the places I like to hang out. Why? Because I think I might be allergic to weed.

I know I haven't always been. Most people know allergies can develop, and I've recently developed a whole lot of them, mostly to wild weeds and grasses. Now I'm starting to sniffle and sneeze around folks who are extremely fond of a largely domesticated herb known commonly as "weed" or "grass."

I figured it out the other day when, at a band's after- party, someone poked me in the side. Someone as hideously ticklish as myself tends to draw in a lot of air really quickly when that happens. Smoke raked at my throat (no contact high though, sorry), and the next day, my throat was very inflamed and full of goo. A while ago, I felt horribly ill after walking through a hotboxed room, but didn't think much of it until now. I thought it was just one more thing compounding my sinusitis. Now this. And so, it looks like if I'm going to be hanging out with stoners any time soon, I'm going to have to bring a gas mask. Or at least one of those dust shield things.

In other news, some hideous insect was turning my Brussels sprouts into ugly lace. Before I could sigh and get pesticides and curse the un- Organicness of it all, the kids searched them and found these inchworms hiding in the baby leaves. They're the fattest inchworms I've ever seen, and they got fat off MY sprouts!! It made me SO MAD!!

Not much else going on around here. Just chilling out as much as humanly possible before I go back to school and wring my brains for the next nine months. Then I'll either graduate or beat my head against a wall.

A friend of mine is heading down to take a nice walk to the creek with me. She's having a bad day. I have about a half hour to an hour to snap out of my apathy before she gets here.

why Utah can drive people nuts

2008-07-26T15:51:00.000-07:00

Thanks a LOT.

2008-07-23T13:12:00.001-07:00

this week in CD's

2008-07-22T16:26:00.000-07:00

Since I've pretty much drained the Terry Pratchett and Marion Zimmer Bradley sections of my town's little library, I've started trying to find the diamonds in the rough among their CD selection. This week's winners:

1. Chant. Nothing like a bunch of chanting Benedictine monks to chill you out after a long day. Unfortunately, McDonalds is starting their Big Mac Chant campaign. Frightening, I think, that fast food has become so religious.

2. Steven Isserlis, Cello World. I love cello, and this guy is amazing, even if his name is a lisp. Very good listening, except for track 13, 'The Child Lived.' The soprano is just too damn obnoxious. She's still not as annoying, though, as Cecilia Bartoli, who can sing and over- act at the same time.

3. John Lee Hooker, The Very Best Of. "Best Of" albums can bug me sometimes, as the editors like to lump all of the song that are in the same key one right after the other. This makes for monotony. If, however, you have one of those handy "Random" buttons, this is the perfect CD to put it to use on.

4. Weird Al Yanchovich, Running with Scissors. Weird Al is one of my heroes. Only he can wear a tutu, polka- dot boxer shorts and a Spongebob Squarepants t- shirt, and still manage to make Eminem look like a dumbass. I've loved the infamous Al since I was very young. The first album my dad ever got me was "Even Worse," the parody of Michael Jackson's "Bad." I listened to it until it vanished. I guess someone else liked it even more- or perhaps their ears were bleeding after the 27,000th play of "Stuck in a Closet with Vanna White."
Running with Scissors is a classic, as every Weird Al album is destined to be.

This week's LOSER:

Queensryche: Operation Mindcrime II. I like Queensryche. I love Geoff Tate's voice. I'd heard Operation Mindcrime was pretty good, but neglected to see the II on this one. Yeargh. All I can say about this one is, take the title literally. Except for the II.

Can anyone refer me to any good authors who don't write about bonnet- wearing girls and horse- drawn- carriage romances, vampires who are hundreds of years old yet manage to be suavishly modern, or talking dragons with tendencies to be either Good or Evil?

Attack of the Fluff Bunnies

2008-07-21T08:24:00.000-07:00

Matt and I and our friend Steve were told there was a drum circle in Payson. We're always up for a drum circle (extenuating circumstances aside), so off we went.
Matt wanted to smoke before we went in. We watched people walking into the house and I said, "I don't know, you guys... they look like normals." But we aren't the types to judge books by their covers- that would be hypocritical- so we went in.

There were two very large, gorgeous drums- Native American- style drums. Other than that we were the only ones who brought drums and didges, excepting the fancy didge hung on the wall. "Oh, put those in the kitchen," we were told. "We're about to start the meditation.

O...k... we hadn't known things were to be so formal, but did as we were told.

It was one of those guided, visualization techniques; a meditation- in- a- box, just add soft mushy brains. I'd been talked into this before so I just went along.

I don't know why the breathing always has to be so loud and confirmational- I know there's something about the exhalation that has to do with release, in Yoga, anyway, but I can inhale and exhale deeply AND quietly without everyone else in the room having to hear it.

It started off sounding like an okay meditation, particularly because my mind typically ignores the guiding voice and follows its own guides. But pretty soon things took a turn for the weird and kept falling downward in that direction. The first weird thing was that it involved being a kid at the fair. Um, what? The fair?? That's not... exactly... something meditational. "You begin to jump up and down with glee as you remember all the fun times you had with your family there," the soothing voice crooned. (Both Steve and I related on the ride home that neither of us EVER had fun at the fair as kids if we got to go at ALL.) The meditation went on to sampling cotton candy and candy apples. In my mind they're right up there with arsenic and belladonna as general poisons. Oh, and here come the Angels! They're the ones running the carny games. I don't know about you, but most of the carnies I've ever seen look like fleas with tattoos, not angels.

There were rubber duckies with messages about how you're so loved, a balloon ride having to do with "vibrations" and, this was the clincher for Most Idiotic Meditation Ever- a unicorn. It was bad enough that there even WAS a unicorn, but this one's name was- get this shit- Bill.

The soothing voice never changed tone. "The unicorn walks up to you. 'Hello,' he says, 'My name is Bill. Would you like to stroke my mane? I like it when people stroke my mane."

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. It's a good thing the room was dark. Matt told me later that it was all he could do not to lean over to Steve and say in a soft but audible tone (voice imitating that of Butthead), "She said 'stroke.'"

Ah, perhaps we'd have more fun if we weren't so damn polite around people we don't know.

The drum circle was a farce. Everyone pretty much watched while the three of us played, and when they joined in, it was just chaos. I'd always thought it was just the drunks who decided that if you want to play but can't keep a beat or even count to four with even pauses between the numbers, just play really REALLY loud. But now I know there are plain old amateurs who do the same thing.

They were nice enough people, but extremely "fluffy," as we say in the world of Pagans. Not just "I like sparkly stuff and I have three guardian cherub- angels" fluffy, but "Hello Kitty fluffy," as Steve put it. And perhaps a mite confused. One was wearing around her neck a pentacle, a star of David, an Ohm symbol, AND a crystal. I know what being eclectic is, but a lot of people just seem to get lost and can't figure out which way to go because they're trying to go in several directions at once.

When it came down to it, they seemed- nice enough, mind you- but quite arrogant about their fluffiness and seemed to be defying us as Not Like Them. I actually take allergy medicine instead of getting polarity release treatments! How backwards of me.

Nothing like an out- of- culture experience to show us who we really are, is there? Usually, Wiccans, even fluffy ones, don't bug me much. But the people there seemed so ridiclously delusional that I couldn't carry on a decent conversation with any of them. I tried.

It reminded me a lot of the bible studies my mom went to when I was a kid, only Wiccan and without the Bible and church songs. I was pretty uncomfortable the whole time. I'm more comfortable talking to Buddhists, Mormons and Catholics. They might be based on organized religions, but at least they know where they stand.

So do I, and it's nowhere near any of them.

View of the Wanderer

2008-07-20T07:22:00.001-07:00

I do my best to pay attention to bits of reality like bills, paperwork, the necessity of running around in sixty directions at once to please unimportant people (who think they're important just because they are on paper) in order to keep a roof over my head and food on the table... but overall, I see things in the very big and very small pictures.

I see the very small things most people miss in their rushing by...

I see the Universe as it is in geological time. We're one little spike on a graph of billions of years that this planet has been around; tiny dots on a tiny planet on the edge of one of perhaps billions of galaxies.

I take time to play where most people don't go...

In fact, I often take great pains to get to where most people won't go. People scare me. They are malicious, base creatures, and I'm... well, I'm human and I have my desires and needs too, but.... why is it that I'm so much more reluctant to stomp people's faces in to get what I want than most people seem to be, and why are so many people so willing to stomp on mine?

To hell with the world of ambiguous words, underlying agendas, falsehoods and miscommunications. I'll do my best to be where they won't find me, as much as I can be without neglecting the people I love...

..no matter what this strange world of strange humans would want me to do.

I have higher priorities in the Earth than I do in the "world." I don't know why, so don't ask ME.

Ask THEM.

Oh yeah, and happy birthday to me. I'm 34 today. At almost exactly midnight, a thunderstorm blew in and it rained, and there was some beautiful lightning and very loud thunder. Every year, I've asked for rain on my birthday, and I almost always get it. Someone up there must love me.

Thanks, Paris!

2008-07-19T11:38:00.000-07:00

Like most people generally considered sane, I was disgusted by the antics of Paris Hilton and her greedy, asinine companions. Even that stupid dog, Tinkerbell. I laughed when she bawled on her way to jail, rolled my eyes when she tried the old "I got religion" fallback. Then I just stopped watching the news for a bit, just because I'd gotten so sick of seeing her face all over what was supposed to be my nightly weather, almanac, and missing- child alerts.

Unfortunately, her name smeared the headlines of the online news, as well. That's how I found out she's no longer in her wealthy granddad's will (I've never bothered to read the stories- there's too much info in the headlines). As the AP, et al can no longer refer to her as an "heiress," she all but dropped completely out of the news media. Woohoo! Finally, some peace as the Earth returns to its rightful orbit.

It seems, however, that Hilton's disastrous catwalk through the media left more than glitter, wasted film, and stiletto heel- trampled drooling men in its wake. Suddenly, even Britney Spears is staying out of the headlines. Lindsay Lohan is a two- second mention anywhere else but the Hollywood gossip shows. Even Madonna's latest attempts to get SOME kind of attention before she shrivels up completely are easily overlooked. We still hear too much about celebrities, but there seems to have been a shift in their priorities.

I could see the collective conscientious haze hanging over Beverly Hills as the hamsters started running on the wheels of long- unused thinking mechanisms. "Uh- oh, what if everyone starts hating us because of what SHE is? What if... greedy rich people's negligent attitudes during an economic slowdown start to anger the general public? They might stop buying useless plastic garbage with our faces on it! They might -gasp- stop watching our movies! They won't LIKE us anymore!! Whatever shall we DO?!"

Someone- probably not someone famous- came up with the answer: charity. Nothing new, but make it public. Jessica Simpson is no longer flaunting her seemingly third- grade education- instead, she's opted to stick her face on a charity for kids who need dental care. Jennifer Aniston's musical chair romances have slid into the background of the ten or so charities she supports, most notably St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital. The rush of celebrities adopting needy children in Africa has international law sorting out a Planet Hollywood- sized ball of red tape.

But how much of it is true good will, and how much of it is a farce? I'm willing to bet that all this "Look at me, I'm a NICE celebrity" is just another PR fad. Africa and other war- torn places still aren't having their real needs addressed (seen any celebrities swear off the diamond habit? Visit a refugee camp? Adopt an orphan with AIDS? Didn't think so). It's not always hard to tell a helpful gesture from an ego trip, if you watch what happens when the spotlight goes away.

Still, it's a much better example to set for a nation of kids nearly blinded by the glitz on a TV screen. Drawing attention to the needs of kids with cancer is a lot better than prostrating oneself for negative attention and a bath of flashbulb lights (HINT Courntney Love!). So I guess we all have Paris Hilton to thank for shattering the crystal shield of the average celebrity's exemption from the big picture. Thanks, Paris! No, please- keep your clothes on...

It might not last long, though. Mylie Cyrus' posse seems to be pretty good at getting her loads of attention without making her acknowledge one single starving Ethiopian. She's being watched- and not just by billions of starry- eyed munchkins, perverts, and advertisers. Her PR folks are setting new trends, and it's scary.

By trial and error, I've learned how to avoid most of the celebrity BS in the news, but avoiding it all is like trying not to breathe All the air in a lungfull. I know a lot of people who just avoid the news altogether. But I actually LIKE to know what's going on in the world, so mainly I stick to BBC, NPR, and some of the local stuff (unfortunately, the best local news is Fox- everything else around here is churchy). So I'll keep diligently getting the weather, but when it's not real news anymore, it gets shut off.

People need to get over celebrities, in hopes many of them will ever get over themselves.

I always knew this guy was ****ed up...

2008-07-17T16:17:00.001-07:00

My nose feels huge.

2008-07-17T08:08:00.000-07:00

I thought a strange virus had invaded my nostrils and had overrun my entire upper respiratory tract within an hour. I did my best not to breathe on anyone, and thought I was doing really well, since no one else was getting sick! Then I landed in the ER where they told me, nope, it's not strep. In fact, it's not ANYthing communicable. They asked what allergy medicines I'd been on.

Well, I tried Claratin D, but I still sneezed. So I tried Zyrtec D. It worked even worse. I tried that Allavert stuff. It was $15 and it was like taking nothing at all. Claratin D seems to at least sort of work- at least I don't have to pull over and wait until my eyes stop burning- but it does nothing for my nasal passages.

Guess what. The failure of all these medicines has caused a nasty case of sinusitis.

At lest I'm not contagious, but I'm really irritated, since my insurance refused to cover any prescription medications until I've tried all OTC "remedies" for a month EACH. Am I supposed to be on antibiotics unceasingly for three months?!

We finally got a new insurance through, and it even covers dental for Matt! FINALLY we can get some things taken care of that have needed care for a long time. I just hope they'll also do what I need them to do, and let me have my damn medication.

Meanwhile, Arielle and Mekare spent most of yesterday in the dentist's office, having their teeth drilled. They actually didn't complain much! But time will tell how long that will last, as Mekare is scheduled for two root canals in the next few weeks. Maybe NOW they'll listen to me when I tell them they need to brush longer.

Matt gave me birthday present a bit early since he knew how much I needed it- it's a gorgeous 320 GB My Book external hard drive!! I'll be spending lots of time moving files today. Woohoo!

Off I go to slam some antibiotics and acidophilous.

Fried Zucchini

2008-07-15T16:59:00.000-07:00

All you need is one (hopefully organic) zucchini, two cloves of (hopefully organic) garlic, dashes of celery salt, cayenne pepper, and fresh ground black pepper, a small pat of butter and some extra- virgin olive oil (preferably first- press).

Stick the butter and oil in a skillet, drop the sliced zucchini in (carefully), and throw in your garlic and spices. Stir often.

It's done when the zucchini slices are browned, or when you have to stop yourself from diving into the skillet because it smells so good.

a reclaimation

2008-07-13T19:45:00.000-07:00

I've loved playing on the swings my whole life. But over the past decade, since I went through a relationship that can only be described as abusive on every level, playing on the swings has become, strangely enough, a symbol of freedom for me. Not just freedom from horrific relationships, but freedom from the demons that attach themselves to a person on any journey through hell.

It was ten or eleven years ago that I finally got away from my ex, and it hadn't been easy. I walked my daughters to the elementary school and had enrolled Arielle in the first grade (we'd switched schools in the middle of the year as I didn't like the principal at the first school- that's another story though) when they saw the playground and begged to pay it a visit. I noticed they had swings, and off we went to indulge ourselves.
I had been away from my ex for only a few months. And when I started swinging, I realized that I had become afraid of heights. I'd never had that issue before that relationship. I forced myself to keep swinging- that bastard would not take every ounce of fun out of my life, especially when he's not even THERE.
I came to realize later that I had also become afraid of traffic, small spaces, and probably worst of all, people in general.
Getting over phobias isn't easy, but in the interest of not being a victim my whole life, I've worked hard on it. The problem with heights has all but disappeared- unless I attempt rock climbing. Got a little more work to do on that. I've learned through trial and error what kind of people I can trust, and now I have an active, happy social life. Still a tad emotional sometimes, though. The one I've had the most trouble with is claustrophobia. I simply cannot take enclosed spaces for very long.
I still have panic attacks now and then, but I'm learning how to change my thought patterns and make them stop. There's a lot of progress to be made. Still, I've gotten this far and I have no intention of slowing down.
If I ever need to remind myself why, all I need to do is find myself a swingset.

Prosti- tots dance school

2008-07-11T09:14:00.000-07:00

OK, so I have Fox 13 Good Day Utah news on this morning, and I suddenly get nauseous. Not because of anything I ate or because the world is being run by narcissistic jackasses, but because there's a bunch of little 3 year old girls on my screen dancing like strippers to an ICP (Insane Clown Posse) song which, by the way, is a notoriously sexist and violent group- and that song is about a stripper.

The dance studio teaching them is called "Touch of Class."

Um, excuse me, but when have class and ICP ever had ANYTHING to do with each other??

If one of those kids was mine, I'd be suing the studio. But is anyone else really paying attention? Or does anyone care whether girls are made to think they have to be slutty to be pretty anymore?

Confused, flustered, flabberghasted, befuddled

2008-07-09T23:01:00.000-07:00

It's midnight, and I'm losing it because I can't sleep to save my life. Every goddamn thing imaginable is running through my head. Sometimes it helps to list them, and sometimes there's too much to list. It's like trying to weed a garden, and finding out it's a minefield.

I missed yet another psychologist appointment today, as I have just about every time since they cut the funding and stopped the reminder calls. Without them, I forget EVERY. Single. TIME. I even set alarms on my phone, and EVERY TIME something has gone awry. Once someone there actually gave me the wrong time for the appointment. This last time, I didn't have my phone due to my leaving it in a shuttle and their failure to get it back to me in an expedient manner. I REALLY need their services, because I am going nucking futs. But not in ways people would normally expect.

I must take people in small doses. I know my friends feel neglected, but I simply cannot deal with drama well, and that's all that ever seems to happen. Things will be nice and mellow for a bit, then as soon as I actually start liking people enough to hang out with them, *POOF* something dramatic happens and I'm caught up in some kind of soap opera scenario, whether idiotic or heartbreaking or just plain WTF, that eats at my brain every night. I've been forced to take even my closest friends in small doses, or I have a very hard time concentrating on things that are far more important. Like breathing.

Then the opposite thing happens. I'm finally away from the drama, and life is being sufficiently handled- but my brain suddenly doesn't have enough to do and starts dredging up strange and distant memories that most people would never, ever recall or pay the slightest attention to.

I was just tossing and turning for an hour, thinking about a story I read in grade school. I must have been 7 or 8 and it was one of those older hardcover books with no pictures except the sketch at the beginning of every chapter. This one was about a pair of otters. I loved how the author described the ways they would play, hunt, build their homes, etc.- there was just one thing that bothered me. He'd given them names. "Sleek" and "Beauty," to be precise. It wasn't just the lack of creativity in the names that bugged me- it was the fact that feral animals don't have names. Naming creatures who have no attachment to human society whatsoever struck me as being far too anthropomorphic for my taste- long before I knew what the hell "anthropomorphic" was.

I just spent an HOUR mulling that over in my brain, and I hadn't thought of that story for at least two decades until my agitated, insomniac brain decided to pull it out of the strange bag of tricks that is my subconscious mind.

Diagnosis, please??!!

Lost Cell Phone Havoc

2008-07-08T20:50:00.000-07:00

I took the Xpress shuttle home from the airport in SLC sunday. I texted Matt from inside the shuttle, so I know I had it there. The problem is, it wasn't on me when I got home.
I have been calling Xpress for the last two days. I just found out this morning that A. the driver owns the van and takes it home, B. he hasn't worked since he dropped me off, and C. No one had even called him because "the person in charge of lost and found isn't in."
There is no complaints department. I've called 8 times. Last I heard, they'd tried to call the driver but he hadn't been picking up.
I am currently on the phone with the manager on duty, who thinks someone might have said it was found. I'm on hold waiting to find out, and my teeth are grinding themselves to dust.
Still holding.

Still holding....

I should be sleeping, but I'm STILL on hold......

Hooray! They'll deliver it around nine in the morning. If I'm ever forced to take a shuttle again, I'll force myself not to fall asleep this time. Egads, what hell.

'Course no progress was made until I said, "Look, this is ridiculous."

G'night, folks.

My First Anniversary (ever)

2008-07-07T19:04:00.001-07:00

One year and about half an hour ago, I married this guy.

And wouldn't you know it, things seem to be working out.

I've been married before, but while my ex and I were together three years, we were only married seven months. Thank heaven. Obviously I never should have married that guy at all. But THIS time, I know I've made the right decision.

So I will now leave you and retire for the evening with my sweety. We will celebrate in earnest tomorrow at a restaurant, but tonight, we've decided to lounge around like a pair of otherwise- disinterested hippos and enjoy the chocolate he got for me and the Bavarian beer I got for him.

Have a happy evening. I know I will.

today in Albuquerque

2008-07-03T20:02:00.000-07:00

I can hardly call it a day in pictures, as at least half my pictures aren't developed yet. I can only give you a teaser.

Here are some jellyfish at the aquarium, bee in Aunt Lois's yard, a pufferfish who refused to puff- even for pictures, a moment on the zoo train, and a few moments with my feet.

You'll have to wait til I get home for the butterflies, cliff dwellings, petroglyphs, etc. as I am not even going to try navigating the stark expanses of my parent's computer for the sake of a blog.

And a tree near the cliff dwellings:

some silly relatives o' mine:

Family Reunion: Day 2 1/2

2008-06-30T19:35:00.001-07:00

Sorry, my film isn't developed yet (my digital camera is Dead! Gone! DeCEASED!! :::sniffle::) so this is the closest thing I have to a Bocker* Family Reunion picture. My mom is the tall girl with the headband. My dear uncle Frank? He's the one sporting the always- stylish, no- fuss, white swaddling blanket. Or- wait, I think there's one brother less than there should be, so perhaps Frank is that twinkle in Grandpa's eye. I would mention everyone else, as they are all very cool people, but that might take a bit. I hope you've figured out which one is my grandmother.
So far, I'm having a great time. It's busy, and there's Bockers and Bocker-esque folks all over the place with standing room only sometimes, but lemme tell ya'll, these folks know how to throw a family reunion. We've spent a lot of time at Lois' place (the girl on the far right), and she and her husband have kept us in munchies and drinks better than most restaurants can boast (for starters, that man can COOK). There's a great schedule (tentative, of course) of goings- on. Today, we visited the Acoma pueblo. Tomorrow, we're going to some cliff dwellings- I'm not sure which ones, but I'll let you know. Later this week, Mom and I will be hiking on some petroglyph trails, and we'll all be visiting the Tent Rock Monument with its historical graffiti pretty soon. Others who like golfing and shopping and fishing have had no shortage of entertainment. Everyone is laid back, happy, comfortable, and great to talk to.
At the same time, I miss my husband so much it drives me crazy, especially at night. He's holding down the fort just fine, though, and the girls aren't driving him straight up the wall. Yet.
Well, I'm fixin' to go to bed now, so g'night folks. Y'all sleep well now, ya hear?
(The Bockers are native Oklahomans, and I'm becoming a bit more hip to the lingo... mostly from grandma...)

*Names have been changed to protect identities, as we really can't trust anyone online anymore, can we?

problematic product packaging

2008-06-26T15:39:00.000-07:00

I'm well aware of the fact that I'm a huge klutz. My hand- to- eye coordination is a little skewy. My hair, clothes, etc. get caught on everything. I apply either too much or too little force required to get a meager task done. But there are some things that just drive me insane.
I'm not too shabby with a childproof bottle, but then they come up with these "New and Improved!" innovations for tying one's fingers in knots. Like the "Easy- open blister" from Zyrtec:

When my eyes are nearly swollen shut and I've had my cold drink on them for a half hour before I can get to my allergy medicine, these things drive me effin NUTS. By the time I've swallowed the pill, I've mangled the package, my hands, and my colorful vocabulary.

I like to buy in bulk- saves me money. Usually. Until I started buying these things.

Everything seemed fine until the week after opening it- mold had grown between the cap and the broken safety- seal. So I chucked it, turned down the fridge temperature, and bought another.
It happened again. So much for bulk Ragu.

This new packaging for meat has always disturbed me, since the meat contained therin freezer- burns at the drop of a hat:

Then I found out from one of my science teachers that the reason the plastic puffs up is that it's pumped full of carbon monoxide. Wal- mart finds a new way to slowly kill us every day, don't they?

Then I got this, and I knew I was being messed with:

You don't expect me to open THAT with my hands!

It's a conspiracy, dammitt!!

2008-06-25T09:23:00.000-07:00

They tell us we're crazy when we notice things like this. That way they don't think they have to stop ripping you off.

I have always been bad with numbers. Not "oops, I miscalculated by fifty cents again" bad, but can't- pass- 4th- grade- math bad. I thought I was stupid, except that I get A's and B's in upper level college courses on anthropology and history. I'm currently waiting for the results of the learning disability testing- they'll be in on the 10th.

I do my best with my finances, and believe me, I've screwed up a LOT. So I stared keeping a much closer eye on things. That's when I started noticing some bank practices that not only encourage overdraws, but seem to PLAN them.

I asked about this a while ago, because transactions would come through late and overdraw me when I thought I still had money. "Credit card transactions have a week to go through," they told me. This applies even if you're using a debit card, but it is run as credit. So, I started waiting a week, not touching the remaining balance, even if my car was running on fumes and we were living on rice.

Recently, I had a balance of about 13 bucks. I didn't touch it for the allotted week. Just as we ran out of toilet paper and the last of the roast beast was gone, I thought, OK, it's been long enough. I went and bought some food and toilet paper. I spent a little over 12 dollars. Cool, I thought, just perfect.

The next morning, I checked my balance. Overdrawn .56!! What the hell?!

I checked the transactions, and lo and behold, the second the grocery transaction came through, another transaction, waiting in the wings for me to take action, had pounced. It was a $2 ATM fee.

This was yesterday. The last time I'd used an ATM was on the 11th. Do the math- I'll give it my best shot... that was almost two weeks ago.

So credit card transactions have some sort of limit. Do ATM fees? And why does it seem so planned? This is NOT the first time this has happened. Just ask my poor dad. When I think of all the hundreds of dollars we've both spent on overdrafts due to my account, it makes me sick. Yes, I am to blame for a lot of it- but this is just too highly coincidental for me to take ALL the blame.

As if the banks don't have enough money. I think that what they do is hire sharks who notice the details of transaction patterns like mine- of folks like me who often are too poor to keep much in the account. Then they manage certain transactions in a way that overdraws you. And I don't think it's one bank, I think it's all of them. It's just how the bastards do business.

From now on, it's CASH ONLY for me.

attempted blog

2008-06-24T08:12:00.000-07:00

It took about two hours to get this thing uploaded, and now I can't blog until later... so I'll update when I have a minute. Watch the video and enjoy the Asian singer with the Irish voice (he sings with the accent, but doesn't talk with it). Oh, and sorry I'm so shaky with the camera. I need a little tripod or something.

Update:
You know what? To hell with it. Every time I start to blog today, something fucked up happens. So I'm just going to get back to you guys when everything stops pissing me off. Have a better day than me.

monogamy and the current downtrend

2008-06-23T09:41:00.000-07:00

It's strange to me how difficult it has been lately to explain to people that one partner really is enough for me. For some reason, a lot of people I know seem to think that "open relationships" or "love one, sleep with whoever" ideals could work for anyone. In fact, I know of two couples out of a thousand or so that it actually works for. Kudos to them, for I've seen more lives of decent people destroyed or at least maimed by attempting to have their cake and eat everyone else's, too.

In most cases, it seems that people who are raised in monogamous households tend to stay monogamous in their relationships. This explains why Matt and I don't have the cheater streak. It also makes sense, considering how much the lines are blurring with the children of people who have cheated on their spouses and/ or were swingers or elected not to get married but have multiple partners anyway. Maybe they're confusing the old quote on chivalry; "The motto of chivalry is also the motto of wisdom; to serve all, but love only one" - Honore de Balzac. I've heard a lot of interesting arguments to support sleeping around. None work for me, personally. There's really no set formula, though. Most people just do the best they know how, and are often unaware of the few out there who will take advantage of their naivete.

The end result generally is, people get hurt, and there's no avoiding it.

I'm just happy and amazed that ultimately, I married the right guy. So far it's the wisest decision I've ever made.

A Solstice Walk

2008-06-20T21:38:00.001-07:00

Sorry the pics are chopped off by my sidebar. Without going back to the pictures, resizing them, and uploading them all over again, there isn't a lot I can do. But if you click on each picture individually, you'll see the whole thing. Thanks for being patient.

During the Solstice, Matt and I walked to our neighbor's house a couple of blocks away. He has all kinds of swans, emus, llamas, kangaroos, etc. Here are some of the better pictures and footage we got.

Matt couldn't wait to show me the black swans:

But I thought the white ones were beautiful, too.

And of course, there are the emus...

...and the... um... what's this one called??

These birds were LOUD. But their conversation was quite interesting.

summer term over... brain deflating...

2008-06-20T15:00:00.000-07:00

Now that I'm done losing my mind over schoolwork, I get to lose my mind waiting for my grades to come in. I had a really hard time this term, and I haven't been testing well, so I'm hoping and praying for three lovely C's in a row. I had three finals in a row on Wednesday and was in a constant panic attack for about eight hours. I went home and tried to relax.

...yeah.

So I've been occupying my time making summer food. My own hummus (I hate the store- bought kind), and my latest obsession: popsicles. My latest ones weren't as holy as the last ones, but they were tastier. It's yogurt, natural unprocessed sugar, raspberries, strawberries and bananas. Seeeee?

Yesterday, my friend Amanda graduated from college with her AS degree. We had lots of fun hanging out, and Amanda looks happier than I've ever seen her.

We all hung out for a bit, and... well, once you get these guys together, you'd just better have a camera ready.

I took a nice walk to calm myself down today. Nature was happy to oblige me and my camera.

And I was doing pretty good for a bit. Them my ex husband called. Said he'd dropped off a big chunk of change for me with the child support people- if only a fraction of what he owes (about $10,000 in back child support). Turns out he's trying to get his license back (numerous DUI's- go figure) and can't do it because they passed a bill making sure his license is on hiatus until he pays up. It's been a while since I've been able to say, God Bless America!!
Of course in some situations, that measure can be really counter- productive, but in situations like mine, it works wonderfully.
Counting down to New Mexico...

Happy Solstice.

revealing?

2008-06-19T11:36:00.000-07:00

So we're sitting in my Meteorology class, watching a student give a presentation on Hurricane Katrina. My middle aged teacher is sitting a couple of seats down from me, paying close attention. He's an average- looking guy; grey- haired, bespectacled, a very knowledgeable lecturer.

It's a decently interesting presentation, and she's just getting to the part where it hits landfall at a category 4 when the relative silence is shattered by a Spice Girls ringtone.

"ITELLYAWHATIWANTWHATIREALLYREALLYWANT IWANNAKNOWIWANNAKNOW..."

"Oh, sorry," my teacher said, taking the phone out of his pocket and shutting it off.

The presentation continued when we stopped laughing five minutes later.

Jesus Popsicle

2008-06-18T15:39:00.001-07:00

I made green tea popsicles, and Jesus appeared in one of them. See??

Sorry, there is no longer a Jesus popsicle. I ate it.

Mmmmmmm. Jesus.

Green Tip of the Day

2008-06-18T12:49:00.000-07:00

Did you know you have a solar oven, and you didn't even know it?

It's your car's dashboard!
I figured it out today while trying to catch lunch between finals. I grabbed a little quiche and stuck it on the dash, and by the time I got back to the school, it was perfectly cooked.

I need to find something to stick on the dashboard to put my dishes on so they don't slide around, though. My uncle David invented the Motion Mug... I wonder if he'd help me invent a Motion Plate so my quiche/ spaghetti/ meatball sandwich don't end up decorating the interior of my car? I'll have to ask him at the reunion.

No more wasting energy with a microwave or conventional oven! No more heating your house at 350 degrees in the middle of the day in the summer! No more attepts to keep birds and bugs away from the thing in your yard that you call a "solar oven" and your neighbors call, "what on earth IS that eyesore?"

For my next Solar Car Dash dish, I plan to wrap a raw potato in foil and tape it to the dash. At the end of the day (or when it smells done), I'll grab the chives and sour cream and have me some dinner.
I'll let you know how it turns out.

Internet Up

2008-06-17T07:54:00.000-07:00

Picture of frog fountain at the carnival.
Too busy to post much just now. Finals Term paper. All be over Wednesday. Can't wait. Egads, look at the time. Toodles.

Internet Down

2008-06-16T07:36:00.000-07:00

I'm on the school's computer at the moment. My wireless connection at home is iffy when it works, and the Ethernet connection seems to be non- functional. I've emailed the landlady/ manager person and hopefully we'll have it fixed.
Yay, just in time for finals week, the internet vanishes.

Yesterday, one of our history professors was stabbed to death by his schizophrenic son. I didn't know him personally, but the whole history department and a lot of my fellow students are in shock. To me, the loss of any history professor is a great loss, and from what I hear, this guy was one of the best around here.

I have two minutes to get to class now. My books are buried under a band's equipment in my car- their van broke down over the weekend so we ended up shoving half their equipment into our station wagon and shuttling them around a bit. Takes a lot more gas to haul that shit than I'm used too... argh. We the volunteers must take this shit in stride. After all, they are good friends of ours, and they're getting pretty good as a band.

Gotta run.

A Tourist in Waiting

2008-06-13T08:28:00.000-07:00

I'll be leaving for my family reunion in just a couple of weeks, then I will have a week to get re- acquainted with my (huge) family and traipse happily around New Mexico with my camera in tow. We will be visiting a pueblo- there are many in New Mexico, but I think the only one that allows cameras is the one we are visiting (though they charge $5- 10 to bring it in and you must register the camera). It makes me a little sad sometimes when I can't take pictures of things, but I have more respect for the people's wishes than I have desire for taking pictures. Believe me, that's a LOT of respect. You can ask my friends how nuts I am with my camera. Even so, when I visited the Tarahumara in Mexico, they asked us 1. not to take pictures of the people before getting to know them a bit, and 2. not to take pictures inside their church. During the funeral service in the church, which involved a lot of colorful dancing and interesting happenings, I left my camera in my tent. Others did not, and it rather upset me. I don't know if they got permission, but I'm betting they didn't.

With overwhelming joy, today I bought my very first photography portfolio book at the bookstore. It will be at least halfway full by the end of the day- but I'll diligently try to keep enough room for pueblo pictures.

There are other pueblos in New Mexico that I might visit someday, just because I aspire to- I'd love to visit the cliff dwellings in particular, and Pueblo Bonito, of course. The difference between these and the one (s?) I'll be visiting this month are that they are vacant. In Taos, people are still living in their 1,000 year old pueblos and would prefer you not walking up and taking pictures of their doorways, thank you very much. Rule #1 of tourism- as learned from someone who grew up in a tourist trap (me): Under no circumstances do you have a right to be annoying.

In other news, the annual Carnival is in town. Pics coming soon. I only went on the ferris wheel this time- the crowds are always ridiculous on opening day, and I've no love of standing in line for 45 minutes to go "Wheeeeeee!" for two minutes.

I did, however, take a ton of macro pictures of irises and other flowers on the walk to the carnival, and I bought some pretty handmade stone earrings. We'll see how successful I am at taking a picture of my own ear lobe. That will be in my next blog, with some pictures of irises that my husband pointed out seem to look suspiciously like vaginas. I pointed out that that's pretty much what they are, they're just a lot better looking than human ones.

Oh, and Matt is doing the roadie thing for a band called The Devil's Cuntry (just had to bring THAT up after the whole vagina thing, didn't I?) tonight in SLC, so I'll probably have pictures of that tribe, too.

Law Enforcement and the Segway- a new age??

2008-06-11T07:27:00.000-07:00

So my History class is supposed to be low- level, HIST 1100 to be exact- but it's so ridiculously complex that I've nicknamed it HIST 5150. Apparently I have three or four days to write a 7 page paper- no problem, normally. But this particular professor, hailing from Oxford University, England- insists on Turabian. I've got my work cut out for me. There's an outline for the TILE PAGE for crying out loud. The tests have been killing me- and the rest of the class, apparently. So much so that our fearless leader has decided to have mercy on us and grade on a curve- the steepest curve I've ever seen in my life. My 55 became a B-. Pure insanity, but hey, it works for me!!
Our security officers here at UVS... er... UVU have a new advantage that I find rather hilarious- segways. I've got to get a picture of that cop on a segway in the Liberal Arts building. It would be nice to have the budget for a satirical film portraying cops on segways, riding in formation through the halls, chasing down the sweaty criminal with his switchblade, sirens blaring... or folding tables overturned by tommy- gun- weilding gangsters as the segways perform an awesome choreography of evasive maneuvers- or even the modern- day gunfight between bandanna- sporting gang members with uzis, who jump onto low- rider segways outfitted with... um... beat- up looking mini JATO units?
Even as exhausted as I am, with all the work I have to do before class is out next week (whew), I just can't get my brain to stop generating these things. I hope my paper on Navajo Mythology is as creative... I was going to write on the FLagellants of the Bubonic Plague but it's much more difficult to find info on those guys, and I already have ten books on Native religion at home.

Blog Moving Soon

2008-06-09T16:50:00.001-07:00

I will soon be relocating to www.artofseeking.com.

It is currently under construction. My daughter Arielle and friend Bo will, most likely, be helping me with all that gibberish known at HTML.

In the meantime, I went nuts and took some pics in my friend's small and neglected yet pretty back yard.

Here's a common dandelion leaf.

And a defensive rosebush:

more dandelion:

Burgundy thorns.

I love it when HE cooks

2008-06-06T16:39:00.000-07:00

Today, Matt made Au Jus French dip sandwiches. They were pretty damn good.

Just ask the kids.

100th Post

2008-06-05T14:52:00.000-07:00

Woohoo. Too busy to reflect on the mediocrity, so here's something I made, just for you. Now off I go to study biology, move a small woodshop onto my smaller balcony, and finish grocery shopping. Have a nice day.

this week in pictures

2008-06-04T17:24:00.000-07:00

I haven't had much time to blog. I've got tests in three classes this week, a budget to fix, and meals to plan. So here's what I've been doing between all that.

Here, on the left, is Arielle eating Arby's "horsey sauce" out of the packet. Eeew.

Below is my friend Cody's daughter, Bella. She's every bit as adorable in person- and then some.

Here are my friends Jenny (the tattooed girl) and Kendra with Kendra's baby, at Jenny's husband Dan's (tattoo artist) birthday BBQ:

Here's Cody's latest modeling clay sculpture of a partially mummified dead guy thing with one eye sewn shut- it no longer exists as it was destroyed minutes after I took this pic:

a pic I took from my car window- I just found this ironic:

a rainbow over the hills:

and yesterday's flustered answer to the endless question, "what's for dinner? What's for dinner? What's for dinner?":

The end. For now...

HELP! I'm turning into:

2008-06-02T08:20:00.000-07:00

I talk too much and my stories don't go anywhere...
I rant in fluent gibberish...
my back always hurts...
I talk about the Good Old Days...
I repeat myself a lot...
my back always hurts...
I could go on and on and on and bore people to death...

bragging corner

2008-05-29T15:24:00.000-07:00

At the end of the school year, the girls will usually bring home certificates. Ana pointedly didn't get any this year, keeping to true punk- rock kid form, but Arielle and Mekare both brought something home. Arielle got her prom pictures, too.

attempts to reclaim "sanity"

2008-05-27T11:42:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning remembering that I had a doctor's appointment today. Wow, I thought, I actually remembered something! BEFORE the fact! Maybe the feng shui worked?

So I went to the doctor's office to find out why I'm so ridiculously sensitive to sugar and other stimulants. They tested me for diabetes. Negative. Woohoo! Doc told me that my sensitivity is probably due to genetics and told me I needed to balance out sugars with proteins, which I've been working on already, and to just watch my diet, which I've also already been pretty diligent about. Except for that sugar binge on Mother's Day that just about knocked me out cold.

We had our first barbecue in the new place on Sunday. It was a lot of fun. My kids are finally old enough to enjoy the festivities without being in the way and being too obnoxious. We had a drum circle, and Mekare grabbed her didge and jammed with us a bit. (Yes, Matt's been teaching Mekare to play the didgeridoo. She still needs lots of practice, but she's doing very well.)

I picked up my guitar for the first time in about a year, and could hardly remember what I've written. All my crappy handwritten tab is in a box somewhere in storage, so I had no references other than my questionable memory. But the more I play, the more I seem to be remembering.

My friend Kelly and I turned out to be kindred spirits, and we didn't even know it. We're going to get together and work on some two- part harmonies sometime. We were both obsessed with Iron Maiden's "Blood Brothers-" in my opinion the best song they've ever written, though they have written a lot of amazing stuff. I was SO obsessed with that song a couple years back that everything I wrote for a while was 6-8 time in E.

I'll be completing my learning disability testing next Monday. Hopefully we'll be able to figure out what the hell is wrong with me, besides the PTSD and anxiety disorder and all that crap. I'm especially anxious to get this testing done now that I'm not just switching numbers around anymore, but everything imaginable. Letters, words, concepts, social reactions, etc. Argh. It makes getting through summer courses a lot more frustrating.

At least we finally got the house in some kind of order, and it feels soooo much nicer in here. It almost feels like my brain has decided not to give up without a fight and is forcing itself to swim above the inter- cranial clutter. But the brain stem is caught under something... maybe an anxiety issue or repressed memory, and it's floundering a bit. Time to clean out the closets, maybe.

helluvaweek

2008-05-24T15:49:00.001-07:00

It has been cold and rainy. The jet stream has gone nuts, apparently. I've had three exams, caught the stomach flu from Mekare, who gave it to me and Ana, who spent the following day in bed. Ana made me some rice, which I only could eat a couple of bites of, and offered to make me tea.

I did OK on my biology test, did pretty badly on the Meteorology test, and bombed the History test. I think my history teacher has it out for us. He's expressed disdain for American students, his exam was ridiculously thick and complicated for a first exam in a lower- level course, and a lot of the multiple- choice answers were very condescending, with references to McDonald's and such. At the end of the exam was a note: "In all lives, some rain must fall. Bet you didn't expect a downpour." What an ass. Believe me, there will be some mentions made to this effect on his evaluation at the end of the term, when we anonymously get to tell our teachers exactly what we think of them.

Matt and our friend Steve have been working at Steve's wood shop, turning pipes for local wood shops, some bowls, and little decorative items for practice and fun. This weekend there was a wood turner's expose at the McKay Events center. Matt and Steve went yesterday and had fun in the workshops- today Matt and I went back. There was a man selling chunks of wood out of a pick- up truck. Steve had lamented the day before that he couldn't afford a particular burl- it was $70 and he said he'd let it go for $50 but neither of them had that kind of money. Today when we went back, he gave it to us for $10! I got a gorgeous block of birds eye maple burl for $5 that Matt is going to make a bowl for me out of.

After the guy left, we found that he'd dumped a lot of perfectly good mesquite in the dumpster, so when it was quiet, Matt reached in and grabbed what he could. With our arms loaded, we walked back to the car with at least $200 of wood. He hadn't wanted to sell the cracked pieces, and was just throwing them out. But Matt and Steve can cut those into smaller blanks for pipes, pens, bitch sticks, etc.

Arielle was in a play called Rumors by Niel Simon. I was quite surprised by her acting skills! Apparently she's been working hard, and absolutely loves acting. She has a lot of friends in the drama club, and has joined the Thespian Society. She played "Cassie," the scorned wife of a would- be congressman intent on getting back at him by seducing every guy in the room, earning the hatred of their wives. It's not the easiest role to play, but she was very good and we're very proud. They gave her an award yesterday at the Drama Club, for "Surprisingly Sexy Seductress." It WAS surprising. Apparently, when she's on stage, she knows her role, and when she's off stage, she's just our Arielle again.

Here are some pictures from the play. Gotta run.

In place of real blog, I give you:

2008-05-22T15:41:00.001-07:00

Benefits of the Half- Assed Approach

2008-05-21T12:44:00.000-07:00

Ok, so we'd all like to be whole- assed, all the time. It would be nice to get everything done perfectly- to flawlessly complete a 10 page research paper while listening attentively to a friends' laments, helping a child with her homework, and diligently driving to the store, all at the same time. But that's not bloody possible, and we all know it.

Nevertheless, there is HOPE for those of us who are spread so thin that we're about to snap back, recoil, and splatter our hopeless efforts all over the place. While doing the important things whole- assed, we may- nay, we MUST fulfill other obligations in a half- assed manner for the sake of both image and sanity. How do we do it? Well, here are a few time- honored tips.

1. The Art of the Buzzword Jockey. It isn't just for nerds, folks! Normal people do it all the time, they just don't notice it. Say you're trying to make dinner and plan a research project at the same time, but you can't get your (annoying) friend to (shut up and let you work) stop talking about what a bad day she had.* But you're in luck! You can easily catch small phrases and words and put together what she's saying without REALLY listening. That way, you can throw in little comments and interjections. Your work gets done, AND your friend doesn't feel neglected.

2. Eating while driving. Dangerous, we all know it. And yet we all do it. Why? because we're fucking HUNGRY, and no one has time to actually stop to sit down and eat. I can't remember the last time I sat down at the kitchen table for a meal. In order to save your life- and those of pedestrians and other motorists who are, no doubt, also stuffing pastrami in their faces with one hand and steering with the other- follow a few simple rules:

A. Don't take the freeway if you must eat while driving. In fact, take the back roads. I don't mean just the usual busy city streets, but the BACK back roads. The ones lined with countryside, farmland, cows, RV parks, train stations- etc. The streets you're likely to be the only one on.

B. Keep your eyes ON THE ROAD, no matter how good that sandwich looks. And on the crosswalks, sidewalk, and where you're normally supposed to be looking anyway.

C. Stick to sandwiches and other finger foods. If it requires utensils, forget it.

D. Stick to moderate- temperature foods. If you drop it in your lap and burn yourself, things will not go well from there. Which is why it is advisable to:

E. Wear clothes you don't care about, or keep a change of clothes in the trunk, in case you end up wearing your lunch.

F. SLOW DOWN. You can do this with excellent results, even when you're NOT eating.

G. Or just go hungry, if all that is too complex.

3. Wear your pajamas. It's stylish these days to look like you just woke up- it's about time, too, for all us hardworking moms. Those cute pajama pants aren't just for sleeping in anymore- they're just like regular pants! So when you get up, all you really have to do is throw on some undies and a t-shirt. Viola! You're dressed. Get moving, and be comfy all day.

Oops! Forgot one:

4. Bribing. Of course it's ill- advised, but most people who don't have a lot of time on their hands tend to resort to it anyway. And really, sometimes, I don't think there's anything wrong with that. For example, my kid's chores get done a LOT faster and more thoroughly when there's a box of Marshmallow Crispies treats on the table. My house gets clean, it saves me time, they get treats, everybody's happy. If you want to tell me not to bribe my kids, find me something that works better, faster.

Ok, that's it. Good afternoon, y'all.

*OK, I know it seems mean. And most of my friends aren't THAT annoying, though EVERYONE annoys me at one time or another. I'm just an easily annoyed person. I do try to listen to people when they need an ear, but sometimes, it's just not possible. So I try to set time aside with my friends so we can yak without pressure. If you're someone I consider a friend, be encouraged, as I don't suffer idiots gladly. But I will suffer you.

From this week's comics...

2008-05-20T07:48:00.000-07:00

I like this blog- idea- for- days- of- the- week thing. It gives me something to blog about on days that I cannot think. At all.

Here is my weekly Tickle Me Tuesday contribution. It's not often these days that I find many of the Sunday comics funny anymore- mostly dull and uninspired. But this week's Dilbert was pretty funny- especially this particular square- which wasn't even the punchline, but I related to it so well:

1st summer camping trip

2008-05-19T12:41:00.000-07:00

I came home with altitude sickness, and it's still lingering. So I'll just leave you with some pictures.

We went with Cody and Barbaradale (blue) and Bo hung out for a while. It was a jolly good time, until my head started hurting. And wouldn't stop. But hey, I got some great pictures.

School Starting to Suck Again

2008-05-16T13:14:00.000-07:00

You know all that psychological bullshit they started teaching kids in the late 80's- early 90's about how wonderful they all are- and these little snots somehow all ended up with this ridiculous sense of entitlement? Well, it looks like they're all enrolling in college this year, and god damn, are they annoying.
If we're ever hit with some kind of catastrophic event, these will be the ones crying in the gutter, begging for food, completely unable to fend for themselves. After all, the world owes them a living. They're not really as interested in actually learning anything in college- just making fun of everyone's clothes.

Today, I was giving a presentation on heat waves in my meteorology class. I wore a pink patterned skirt, a white top, a blue sweater (I was cold) and my clogs. Most people in my class seemed much more interested in atmospheric conditions of heat waves and what to do about heat exhaustion- except these two girls that sat there giggling like idiots every time I said something. The poor lady sitting next to them seemed as if she were on the brink of physically restraining herself from slapping the shit out of them.

My high- pressure system on the chalkboard may not have been the most artistically inspired, but I think I did pretty well. I have two tests on Monday. I hope it's worth studying for, as the folks in Financial Aid seem to have screwed up my paperwork somehow. Some of them say I'm not getting any. Others say I am and just hang tight. Then some snot of the High School bitch persuasion- apparently a new hire in the FA office, told me I'm going to have to pay for my classes out of pocket because the withdrawal deadline has expired. Bullshit! I was told several times NOT to drop my classes. If I end up owing, SOMEone's going down.

I have to stop thinking about this shit before I really start hating people again.

O'Doyle Rules!

2008-05-15T18:32:00.000-07:00

The house has finally calmed down a bit. Mekare has stopped tearing through the house, yelling things ("I'm- going- to- Courtney's- Her- address- is- 5- something- something- yada- yada- yada- Byyyyee!"), Ana and Matt have ended the tickle- fight, and Arielle... must be on the computer in her room. I ate too much sugar (polished off the box of See's) and I'm crashing all over the place.
I wonder if Matt has some latent redneck tendencies. Today he suggested putting a TV on our balcony, so he can play games outside. "Please?"
"What??! NO!!" Hell no. The balcony is all I have until I have a yard again. It's my sanctuary where I'm surrounded by nature and peace and quiet and NO TV. We already have too much noise IN the house. Why do we need more? So the neighbors can walk under our balcony to the sounds of Mario hopping joyfully from pipe to pipe, and they can look up and glare at us and say, "well, THAT'S obnoxious." They're open to us being hippies, and we even have a Hare Krishna neighbor who is really sweet. But I don't think I want to be identified with triple negatives and NASCAR, no matter how much I love barbecues and Jeeps.

I have some friends that might be rednecks- we have a nickname for their family, the "O'Doyle's" (think Adam Sandler's Billy Madison). They live in a trailer and have a huge TV. Their favorite thing in the world besides beer? Guitar Hero and Rock Band. They even got me to sing a Bon Jovi song- just because the "singer" was butchering it and I love that song. Next thing I know, they want me to join them permanently. Join the O'Doyle Rock Band team. They actually DID chant "google- goggle google- goggle One- Of- Us! One- Of- Us!" But while I do enjoy singing, I'm used to doing it with a REAL band with Real instruments, and Rock Band just seems so.... cheesy.
A few shots of Jack Daniels and I'll belt out a couple of tunes with them. There aren't a lot of people who walk in and humiliate you in that particular neighborhood. Especially when there's cats to sic your dog on and a horseshoe set out back.
I like those guys. I really do. We go way back. A little too far, in one case- but I'm going to drop that right there.

I have a presentation on heat waves in my Meteorology class tomorrow, and I get to draw the stagnant atmospheric conditions on the board all by myself, as my laptop is attempting to fry itself lately. I'll never buy a used one again. So I guess I'd better put the finishing touches on it in an effort not to make an ass of myself in front of a group of folks comprised of pilots, science majors, and a couple of bitches who give me looks and whisper behind their hands when I walk in. Well, maybe I'm wearing pajama pants under my hippie skirt JUST to piss you off, preppie.

Best Mother's Day Ever

2008-05-13T11:52:00.000-07:00

I got absolutely spoiled rotten on Sunday.
I got breakfast in bed- Arielle made an apple- pecan coffee cake from scratch, Ana made my coffee; even frothed the milk and sprinkled cinnamon over the top, and Mekare picked out my yogurt.
Matt got me a 2 lb box of See's dark chocolates- I really just wanted the little box! Too much sugar scares me! But he also got me some black jelly beans and a sugar free dark chocolate bar from See's that was actually quite good. And TWO cards- one humorous and one more on the sweet side. The kids made cards, as usual, and Arielle gave me some plants from her horticulture class/ job. Then Matt took me hiking at the Bonneville Lake Shoreline trail near Springville, where we hiked up to the limestone deposit (the big white thing on the side of the foothill), then we went out to the Red Lobster (I had a coupon).

So I'm wondering... do I get this kind of treatment because I'm so great, or because they're afraid of me? Perhaps I'm receiving these offerings as a deterrent to keep me from turning into one of my many Monsters; i.e. the shower monster, ranting monster, etc.? Is this kind of like tossing someone into a volcano to keep it from exploding?
Well, I've been in a pretty good mood ever since, except for learning that one of my first true friends, Barbara Ann Chase, lost her long battle with esophageal cancer. I found one of the books she wrote on Amazon and bought it- a signed copy! I'm no longer a Christian, but Christianity doesn't frighten me and it worked pretty well for Barbara Ann.
Back to the drudgery of school. I have a presentation on Friday in Meteorology, on heat waves. And I have a midterm in Biology. Woohoo.

The Homemade Didgeridoo

2008-05-08T20:50:00.000-07:00

I will be busy all day, so I leave you with this video of Matt and our friend Steve playing didgeridoos they're making out of PVC. They are unfinished, but sound pretty good. This was shot at Steve's house in January with my trusty little Kodak:

The Mysterious Brain Cloud Phenomena

2008-05-07T16:07:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I had all kinds of ideas for today's blog. I should have written them down, considering the fact that I have a brain cloud.*
My brain cloud is special. It fogs through my mind and randomly deletes 90% of mental notes scrawled anywhere in the gray matter at any given time. I can be thinking, "Note to self, pick up trash bags after class" and before I get to the word "bags" the whole sentence has been wiped clean away by the meandering brain cloud.
This poses serious problems while driving. Matt will get in the car and say something like, "we need to pick Bo up." A common occurrence. Just as often, I'll drive right by where I'm supposed to turn. "Okaaay, so we're NOT picking Bo up?" Matt will say, and I'll swear under my breath and turn around.
I have tried since 2001 to get a diagnosis of some sort from anyone, and both Matt and I have discovered a disturbing phenomena at Utah doctor's offices- they do everything they can NOT to come up with a diagnosis. In my case, they just change the subject to what drugs I'd like to try, and in Matt's case, they beat around the bush THEN prescribe him something for his kidney pain. As of yet, no one has been able to give us any clue why Matt feels like he's trying to pass a stone when none of his stones are obstructive, and no one has even humored me by acknowledging what a space cadet I am. If I went there and said, "you know, I kind of felt like painting my legs purple and running through wal- mart in a Hamburgler costume," they'd say, "that's nice. Have some Adderol." (That's an amphetamine, by the way. Prescription meth. Does NOT help me.)
I think the only pill I need is one of these:

I hate being such a space cadet. I tried those self- help books, and found them full of cheesy BS. So I tried professional help. You just read about that, right? OK, so I took some of those "self- esteem" and "life- management" classes a few years back. They were a little helpful with the group support aspect sometimes, and it was fun to vent to people who actually listened, but on the last day, what did they do? Promote cheesy self- help books.
Feeling better about myself is all well and good but doesn't do jack for my brain cloud problem. I need a REAL solution. Anyone?

*The term Brain Cloud was first conceived of by the writers of this particular cinematic masterpiece, and one of my all- time favorite classics:

wasted time

2008-05-06T06:38:00.000-07:00

Last Friday, Matt got a call from a businessman who said someone had left Matt's number on his desk, saying he'd heard of his skills as a screen printer. He said Matt sounded like what he might be looking for, and they made an appointment. We drove all the way to South Jordan- that's a half tank of gas, folks- to meet this guy.
Matt's boss told him, "you're going to drive all the way up there, and it's going to be some kind of pyramid scheme..."
I didn't hear anything about the conversation with his boss until we were on our way back. We felt a bit out of place in my Black Sabbath t- shirt and Matt's Jason vs. Freddy shirt as we went into a huge, glowing office building with marble floors and leather chairs, and into an office on the second floor. "Call me B.J." talked to us for about a half hour. It soon became evident that he had absolutely no knowledge of screen printing whatsoever. Then it became more evident that it was one of those new pyramid schemes that they've managed to make legal.

Well, at least it wasn't one of those interviews with 50 other people where they get on a stage and rant enthusiastically about sales and condescendingly tell you to take notes (the worst one I was ever conned into going to had us take notes like "sex sells" and regional management is fun") - it was a single- person interview and he did seem like an actual person and not a ridiculously hyperactive con artist. But everything he said pointed to one thing- bullshit.
"Wow," I said as we left, as soon as we were out of earshot (maybe). "That's the most sophisticated pyramid scheme I've ever seen!"
"Yeah," he said, "That's what Troy said it would be."
We should have made him pay for our gas.
If there's one thing in job hunting I'm sick of, it's these idiotic pyramid schemes. They waste your time with all this prattle about how you'll make SO much money you'll be driving a brand new Beamer and living in a 22,000 square foot home and how their boss lives in Tahiti and has three yachts. Then they tell you- in this case, at least- that they want you to pay $100 to start. Well, to hell with that. "Call me B.J." can take that whole corporate building and all its Italian glass and shiny stone and shove it right up his ass.
What we really want to know now is how the hell he got Matt's cell phone number.

Saturday

2008-05-04T17:26:00.000-07:00

Looks like I won't be joining Spanky's Garage band after all, as it no longer exists.
They had some- er, personal differences and got a little testy with each other, and now Spanky's Garage Band is no more.
They'll be starting up another project after Amber has her baby.
Cody still wants to do some experimental styles with me and Matt and a few other folks, though- sometime in the future.
Hopefully before I'm 40, I'll be able to jam a bit. I tried to jam with some folks last night at Scott's wake, but my voice is getting a bit rusty for lack of practice.

The funeral, viewing, and wake were yesterday. The viewing was difficult, the funeral was boring but for Scott's brother Daniel, who seemed like the only "real" person giving a eulogy- and for the most part, people didn't get too judgmental at the sight of all us heathens. Even though we all wordlessly and simultaneously walked out the back door before the closing hymn. Scott wasn't much into hymns and formalities. At all.
It wasn't all bad, though- they used a picture of Scott that had been taken at my wedding, and his brother Daniel read a poem Scott had written that they found among his belongings. It was about how he wasn't alone when he was around his friends. It was dated July 7 2007- the day of my wedding. It's nice to know I had some kind of positive influence on him.
The wake was awesome. Scott's mom was there and she was very sweet. I had a few shots and wished I'd had maybe one less, but it was cool- I still got some great pictures and had some interesting conversations. The pic above is of Scott's old band, Devil's Cuntry. Brandon has replaced Scott as drummer, but as anyone who has ever taken a picture of a jam session knows, the drummer is the hardest one to get a picture of.
It was great to see Melissa there. I was worried she wouldn't make it. It was good to see everyone.
I hope this new week will be a little less horrifying.

Education vs. Religion, assumption

2008-05-01T08:27:00.000-07:00

I'm getting a bit irritated with the public education system here in Utah.
Arielle told me yesterday, "The teacher said 'we're going to learn about facts, so we're not going to go over contraception.' "
OK, I could understand if he'd just said that it wasn't in the school's policy to tech about contraception, but to straight up say that contraception is fiction?! What the hell!!
He then proceeded to teach that smoking marijuana can cause cancer and pneumonia. Now THAT's fiction. I'm sure smoking weed couldn't possibly make pneumonia (or any lung ailment) better, but I've never heard of weed causing any disease. There were some studies on weed possibly causing cancer, but they were inconclusive. I can dig through all my psychology textbooks again right now and guarantee there won't be a damn thing in there about weed and pneumonia.
Ana asked me a few weeks ago, "Mom, is it true that in the Civil War, they weren't allowed to shoot the flag bearer? 'Cause my teacher said whoever's side won was the side whose flag was still up, and they couldn't shoot the flag bearer."
WRONG. The side with the most people still standing and not either splattered all over the ground or running the hell out of there was the winner, and the flag bearer always died first. Keeping the flag intact was a bonus, but it wasn't usually possible. On a battlefield choked with the smoke of black powder, the other team's flag was pretty much all that was visible, so being the flag bearer pretty much meant you were going to die. In one particular battle (Chatanooga, I think? Correct me if I'm wrong), the Union side went through 12 flag bearers in the space of about 20 minutes. I can understand a teacher being a bit confused, but hell, when you're confused, don't you usually say "I'm not sure, let me get back to you on that?" Don't you NOT make up something that just sounds good?
How much do we really know about what they're teaching in schools these days? I remember being taught in grade school that men have one less rib than women. This based on the assumption that God removed Adam's rib to create woman. Bullshit, of course. We all have the same amount of ribs. If you want to tell if a skeleton is male or female, you're going to have to look at the pelvic bone.
My kids would get a better education if they weren't forced to go to public schools. Kudos to my sister for home schooling her kids- I just wish I had the patience to do it myself. I'm very easily flustered. I'm also in school full time, myself. So we just have these discussions at home, and I end up feeling like storming into the school and demanding to talk to the folks who think that teaching kids what they THINK they should believe instead of what the actual truth is, is somehow acceptable.

Tickle Me Tuesday

2008-04-29T09:21:00.000-07:00

I hope the HTML thing is working properly today and will thus link you over.
I wasn't sure what to do- I never am these days- so I'll call this one The Many Faces of Matt (my husband).

Here we are on a purple dinosaur in San Diego.

Here he is between sets at his night job as a roadie:

At his day job he usually does screen printing. But when they're running low on work there, his boss has him doing all kinds of stuff, like demolition:

Matt has a lot of friends who go way back, and he truly enjoys talking to and spending time with them:

All animals love Matt. We're not sure why, but he's a critter magnet.

And there are our "unconventional" friends, whom we blend in really well with:

Matt is known for his skills in the mountains. Here's the one time I've actually seen him using safety equipment:

And my favorite, of course: The Sexiest Man I Know (that IS my forehead, but I didn't look great in the picture).

MMSM- still trying to smile after Sunday

2008-04-28T19:12:00.000-07:00

Since the HTML doesn't feel like humoring me today, here's the link to the original Makes Me Smile Monday thingy:
http://www.whataboutmomblog.com/

Ok, so smiling isn't the easiest thing to do the day after a friend commits suicide for no apparent reason. But I'll try to think of something.
This week's MMSM is supposed to be about what makes one's husband happy. At the moment, my husband is worse than I am- he was closer to Scott than I was. He's moody and upset and I'm just going to leave him alone until he's done stomping around and intermittently throwing small harmless objects. What would make him happy would be going back in time to Sunday morning when he could have stopped someone from doing something horrifically stupid.

I'll try to think of something else to smile about.

I've had a lot of diet coke in the past week, and I still don't have a brain tumor. And, since I found out how much sugar was in those vitamin water things I've been drinking and ditched them, I've lost four pounds.

I finally got Arielle to clean the kitchen to the extent that it looks like my beloved kitchen again.

Likewise, Mekare finally cleaned off the coffee table- wait, one of the kids already threw her hoodie on it.

It's almost the kid's bedtime.

I have a lot of friends, and we can really use each other's support right now. Life's been a real bitch lately to just about everyone I know. But we still have each other... well, those of us who are still alive know we still have each other. And we're grateful we're still alive.

Anything else? Hmmm...
It's been a nice day. I didn't get out and enjoy it much though- too much crap demanding my attention at home. But at least it wasn't cold and rainy/ snowy again.

Coffee has stopped knocking me out since I stopped putting sugar in it. I thought it was the caffeine, and all along, it was the sugar. It hits me like a bag of cement every time- I don't get the sugar high, just a really crappy low.

I haven't cried much yet. It seems like everyone's doing it for me, and when they do, I feel like I have to be strong and be there for them so they can cry. I don't like crying around people- it makes them want to hug me, and I'm not a big hugger.

I think I might go to bed early.

Sorry- this blog probably won't make ANYone smile.

In Memorandum

2008-04-27T16:46:00.000-07:00

R.I.P. "Chuglet."
Your antics will, against all odds, be missed.
Your band won't find a new drummer easily, and we're quite certain none us us will ever really be the same.
We're all sorry we didn't see it coming.

artsy fartsy, as they say

2008-04-27T08:30:00.000-07:00

Well, that's a term in Utah Valley that's used with variable frequency, but I'm not sure they use it on Earth.
My husband scored this thing called a Cricut for what turned out to be an unbelievably low price. I'd never heard of such a thing as a Cricut before. I also had never heard of people spending upwards of $400 just to get into scrapbooking. But hey, I'm in Utah- I guess I shouldn't be surprised. When Matt told me it's a paper- cutting machine, I must admit I wasn't impressed. Seems to me spending that kind of money to cut paper is a little extravagant. Depending on what $50 cartridge you have, you can cut paper into all kinds of shapes and fonts.
My immediate reaction- "So......?"
Well, it DOES have some serious potential. I guess there are people who make their own stencils with them, patent them, and make a pretty good living selling them. Then there are people who spend lots of time and effort and energy making scrapbooks for their friends and family- keepsakes that will be records of their lives for generations. I personally want to figure out how to use it to make merchandise for local bands. We already make and sell t- shirts for them at prices they can't possibly get anywhere else, thanks to Matt's access to screen printing equipment.

As all this goes through my mind, it suddenly hits me- OMG. I live in Utah Valley. I own a Cricut. "Enchanted" is playing on the TV screen behind me (again). My eldest daughter just came back from the prom, telling me stories about the carriage and the pony and how much fun it was. We grow tomatoes and strawberries. I have an exercycle. I drive a vehicle that seats seven. I've been invited to the annual Ball. We go camping and roast marshmallows every chance we get. Our tent says "Eddie Bauer" on it.
Do you see what's happening here??!!

I've got everything but a picture of the Temple and a group of moms to walk with for exercise in the mornings. Oh, and you couldn't pay me to go to church.
It's a little redeeming that I was out at a bar until 2:30 am drinking and dancing to the "sultry sounds" (as lead singer Amber joked) of Spanky's Garage Band with my friend Blue until we were so tired we just collapsed at the table and threw ice cubes at each other.
My husband has long hair and a goatee and plays Dungeons and Dragons. I'm drinking coffee. Half my friends are stoners. I'm majoring in something besides children's education, and I'm not pregnant.
Am I grasping at straws here?
I'm a freaking Utah mom. There's no escaping it.

My take on the China vs Tibet thing

2008-04-26T16:45:00.000-07:00

Tibet's side: They were illegally invaded by China's communist PLA (People's Liberation Army) in 1949. The Army, in accordance with the usual communist eradication of religion, proceeded to destroy Buddhist temples, torture and rape monks and nuns, and terrorize the general Buddhist public. This included the killing of innocents, even babies. Their flag (shown here) was outlawed, their spiritual leader, the Dalai Lama, was forced into exile. A few desperate people, bribed by PLA officers, turned traitor and signed agreements that they had no authority to sign in the first place. Nevertheless, China uses the coerced paperwork against them.

China's side: They say the Tibetans wanted them to invade, and even signed their freedoms away to get free medical care and other communist benefits. Everything that was agreed to was completely voluntary, they say, and all those crazy Tibetan people, especially the Dalai Lama- an enemy of the state- are lying.

The evidence against the Chinese government is staggering, but they've managed to get the majority of Chinese people to believe in their cause. I hope most Chinese haven't forgotten the Tienanmen Square incident already?

Olympic supporters (most of them, I suppose) say: The Olympics are important to China, and the Chinese government isn't the only guilty party when it comes to human rights abuses. Just look at Abu Gharib, Gitmo, Grenada, etc.

I agree with them, mostly. I also realize that the Olympics are important to the solidarity and patriotism of the people of China- which is important even if the people don't agree with their government. There's nothing wrong with a person loving their country. Even in the thick of the Rwandan genocide in 1994, Paul Rusesabagina loved Rwanda. He certainly wasn't pleased with what was going on there and the horrific slaughter he witnessed, but that doesn't mean he should lose his love for the land and the people he had always known and loved.

But those going on about how Tibetans are supposedly lying about the whole thing are just plain wrong, and lying to themselves in order to feel better about the situation. It's almost equivalent to the claims of radical Islamic leaders that the Holocaust of Jews never happened during WWII- the only difference being, I don't see what the Chinese ever had against Tibet in the first place, other than the militarily strategic advantages of acquiring the land that separated them from their longtime foe, India.

The 2008 Olympics are an opportunity to draw attention to the plight of Tibet, but that doesn't mean the Olympics shouldn't be held on the account of their illegal invasion. Otherwise, we might as well have stopped the Olympics from happening in the United States due to the illegal invasion of Iraq. The Olympics are about the endurance of the human spirit, sports, achievement, and most of all, money and corporate dominance.

And there you have my humble opinion.

Attempt to Give a Damn Failing

2008-04-26T14:58:00.000-07:00

I try to be a good friend. I really, really do. I care about my friends and wish I could do more for them.

I just can't stand drama.

Especially when two friends start dating each other and they both start telling me about the problems they're having with each other. Or when they're roommates and they start hating each other. I really can't DO anything about it. I just want everybody to be happy and shut up.

I get a headache trying to be everybody's diplomat. I'm no miracle worker, and if I say anything to anyone about anything, I'll probably screw something up. So I just keep my trap shut and go home and bang my head against the wall.

HEY EVERYBODY! BE HAPPY AND SHUT UP!

Life could be worse, you know.

Five Confessions

2008-04-26T08:05:00.000-07:00

1. I stole this blog idea from my sister, because I'm bored and want to blog and couldn't think of any better ideas off the top of my foggy morning head.

2. I'm in love with trees. Last week I spent my last $15 on a book about trees. Trees are some of my favorite things in the world. I have favorite trees in every town I've ever been in, even if I was there for maybe five minutes (the pic on by Earth Day blog was taken at a rest stop near Sacramento, CA back in '03 on a road trip to San Francisco). Occasionally I'll pull over and take a picture of a tree I think is especially beautiful.
Here's one near my kid's old elementary school in Springville (yes, I put some cool effects on it):

3. I have a few phobias. The one I will disclose here is strangers touching me. You know those folks who are so touchy -feely that they like to touch your hand when you've known them five minutes? Those folks that go, "Oh, your hair is so pretty!" and they start playing with it? It sends something like a mild electric shock down my spinal cord. Eeeeeuuuggghh. Hate it. It also drives me nuts when these touchy feely people will call me "sweety," "honey," etc. when they don't know me at all. To some people I guess it's just being nice. To me, it's invasive and creepy.

4. I don't like country music. There's a halfway decent song here and there, but mostly it drives me nuts. It's hard to get away from in Utah. I'm picky about my music. Can't stand Joan Jet, The Doors, Madonna, or any of this new "music" sung by teenage- looking girls who all sound exactly the same to me. It probably drives my friends nuts when I turn on NPR for Jazz after 7pm. It's soothing when I've had a long day, and let's face it, jazz singers are amazing. And I LOVE a good bass solo.

5. I am the world's biggest wuss. I have the upper- body strength of an 8 year old girl, and I don't build muscle. I've tried. When it came down to carrying fence- building equipment across Copper Canyon in Mexico for humanitarian projects helping the Tarahumara Indians, I was pretty much useless. Thankfully, we were all shown up by a five year old boy, who carried about 50lbs of firewood on his back for miles without breaking a sweat. When we saw him walking up the hill behind us, ALL the gringos felt inadequate.

That's all I got for now. I'll blog about the Tarahumara later today or tomorrow.

Egads, the Pressure

2008-04-24T21:06:00.000-07:00

I need a Zen moment.
Right now, I'm attempting to write two Anthropology papers for a ridiculously complicated theory and debate course. They're due tomorrow by 5:00 pm, and I'm close to panic.
But I did manage to get things done today, as far as actually working toward my graduation. I've got 29 credits to go for my Anthropology major, 12 to go for my History minor- and now, I've got a mere 9 credits to go for a second minor I've just picked up- Peace and Justice Studies. It's a brand new course, and as it turns out, many of the classes I've already taken count toward it. Now all I need to complete it are two cores and a capstone.
But, there's a catch to graduating at all- my lifelong nemesis, MATH. I have to pass Math 1040, but I didn't get a good enough score on the test. I'm trying to take tests to determine if I have dyscalcula, which I'm fairly certain I do (it's like dyslexia, only I get numbers mixed around instead of letters), but the tests are expensive and I'm rather broke. But I can't take a certain Statistics class until I pass the Math class, and I can't take the capstone Anth class until I pass that statistics class- and of course I need the capstone to graduate.
Argh!!
Breathe.......

The air by the waterfall
Is clear and sweet,
No travellers venture here.

I needed a nice Zen moment again.

Well, I'd better get back to work on my comparative conceptual theories of Aihwa Ong, et al.
-sigh-

Ok... um... WHAT?

2008-04-24T09:23:00.000-07:00

Have you seen this? It's the new book for little kids whose moms are getting plastic surgery, and how to deal with the changes. First of all... what the hell??! Secondly, has it really gotten that bad? And third... what the HELL?!!
OK, there are food crisis all over the world, rising gas prices, falling dollar, inflation, war, unemployment rising- and a new rack is going to fix everything?
They're coming up with alternative titles for this book, like "Mommy used to have your nose, but now hers is prettier," "Mommy needed a tummy tuck- because of you!" and "New Plastic Mommy." Mine, so far: "Where your College Fund Went" and "What mommy REALLY cares about." Is it just me, or priorities getting a teensy bit screwy?
Note the body language in the picture on the cover- a child begging to be loved, and a mother with her back to him, showing off for an invisible (most likely adult, or maybe a mirror, given the level her eyes are at) viewer.

I worry about what kind of example women preoccupied with mirrors are setting for their kids. I know I'm no super- mom, but I know my kids respect me. How are kids supposed to have any self- respect if all their mother cares about is what she sees in the mirror? I try not to be judgmental, but this is just going way to far, now that moms are getting their daughters new breasts as graduation presents.
Of course, there are instances in which plastic surgery is needed. Women with breast cancer, kids born with birth defects, post surgery repair, etc. But I'm willing to bet that's not what this book is about.
Maybe someone should write a book for kids on how to deal with their emotions when a parent is going through surgery that they actually need? Something to comfort and reassure them that even though mommy or daddy is having a hard time and can't really communicate for a while, they still love you? Not a book that says, "Hey, your mom's looks are more important to her than her family, so stay out of the way while her boobs get bigger."
If people get to the point where they only see themselves as objects, what's next?

I urge everyone who is frightened by this trend toward a plastic, superficial population to discuss this with your kids. Especially girls, who need to understand that taking care of yourself doesn't mean looking like a Barbie doll. If one of my kids ever expresses an urgent need to get plastic surgery, I'm taking her straight to self- esteem classes, on to an art class, then to the mountains. Or maybe I'll reverse the order.

News to Me

2008-04-23T08:23:00.000-07:00

This morning, I was watching the weather report on Headline News. The anchorwoman (perhaps a better term would be anchor- girl) turned to the meteorologist and said, "How about the weather? Looks like the clouds are going bye- bye!" What is she, eight? I thought. Then the meteorologist got going. He showed a photo of some strange clouds in Arkansas, where it looked like a mackerel sky above an anvil- shaped thunderhead. I'd never seen anything like it. The anchor girl asked what made clouds like that, and he began to explain how this particular weather system could cause large hailstones because of the air currents rising and fa-
"Will you listen to this science geek over here?" she cut him off.
I really, really wanted to slap her. I was LISTENING to that, and meteorology is far more impressive to me than some annoying valley- girl wanna- be going on about how geeky that is. Well, I happen to be a bit of a geek, myself, and I much prefer it to stupidity.
Bye- bye, idiot anchor girl!
-click-

Arielle is all excited- a cute boy in her art class has asked her out to the Prom. Now I have to figure out how I can afford this. Thankfully, I got a nice formal dress for her from Freecycle- now she needs the shoes. Then there's the cost of the prom itself- does the boy traditionally pay for that? Do modern times still allow for that kind of thing, or is anything less than dutch considered sexist now? Do they HAVE to have a freakin' limo? And how much do those pictures run, anyway? Argh. I never went to the prom, myself. I was a... misfit? Outcast? Person who hates superficial, materialistic shows of oneupmanship? Yeah, that. But if my kids like that stuff, I'm not going to force them to think like me.
Wow. That would be horrific. People who don't have a brain like mine should count their blessings. Too much thinking can really, really mess with a person. Especially when they can't stop...
Oh, and speaking of news, I am very suspicious of what's going on in Texas- both with that compound and with the state. I've never been a huge fan of overly- aggressive child protective services people- they've threatened ME before, even pulled my kids out of school and asked them if they were afraid of me. They got laughed at. Neighbors here are very nosy and judgmental. At the same time, all the folks yipping about what terrible things are happening to these poor kids (Oh no! Not foster homes! Let's stick 'em back in the custody of their probable abusers!) on the news seem to be missing something in their content:

People don't want to believe what's been going on there. I know it's hard, but really. I live in Utah. You folks don't see all the things we do- well, those of us who aren't walking around with their eyes shut and fingers in their ears going "lalalalala..."

I have to invite a friend of mine over soon- when I'm done writing Anthropology papers. She's had a long couple of weeks. It seems like every time she gets a new roommate, the cops raid her house. Here in Happy Valley, it's one extreme or the other- either you go to church, be super- mom, and attend relief- society meetings, or all your friends are stoners with tattoos and/ or freakish hairstyles and colorful vocabularies (Most of these folks are really cool and don't bug me at all, but they tend to know people who bother me). I don't have a category, so I have friends from both sides and in between. I like living so far away from most of them, so I can be a hermit and entertain on weekends. Perhaps, if she wants me to, I can show my friend the virtues of being a bitch- hermit.

OK, so I'm not that bad. I'm a health nut, a morning person, and I don't care for comic books. But I am a hermit, and keeping all the crazy people out here- even my friends (but usually THEIR friends)- at bay occasionally requires me to be a bitch. If it will save me from the crap my fence- sitting friends are dealing with right now, it's definitely worth it.

Happy Earth Day

2008-04-22T08:44:00.001-07:00

Don't forget to:

Drive less

Take a bike ride

Use a real coffee mug at the coffee shop

Recycle

Turn off all the lights

Hug a tree

Well, you don't have to hug a tree, but it couldn't hurt.

Unless there's an ant trail on it.

So watch out for ants, and have a happy Earth Day.

I have things to do, unfortunately, so I'll have to do a little driving. First of all, I had a Moron Moment yesterday, and left my debit card in the ATM. This became a real problem when my husband needed his prescriptions filled, so we got to the register and found my wallet minus one debit card.

Thankfully we scraped enough cash together (I'm so happy we have that giant change jar) and got them filled.
So, that's the first thing on the agenda today- recover debit card.
Just as soon as my toenails dry, I'm outta here.

Oh, BTW, Happy birthday, Jason (my brother who, it is well known, does not hug trees, but smokes small, artistically- rolled, distinguished tobacco plants.)

Drive Train, Devil's Cuntry Band Reviews

2008-04-20T14:06:00.000-07:00

I ended up at this show because I know 2/3rds of Devil's Cuntry personally, and was curious about locally- famous- tattoo artist Oak's (drummer) new band, Drive Train. I was quite pleasantly surprised. I shot some video of both bands- Drive Train's turned out the best because the crowd wasn't quite drunk enough to get in front of my camera constantly. Yet. Unfortunately, it was still rather dark and the video here is small on this blog... so I hope this is visible enough. At least the audio is halfway decent. Sort of. At least you can hear how damn good the guitar solo is. Here's Drive Train's "Don't Love Her No More:"

I love their style. I felt like I should be in a malt shop, wearing polka dots and flirting with James Dean.

Then there's the Devil's Cuntry. They are a self- proclaimed Satanic country band, but I found most of their songs to be more about drinking than the dramatic sacrifice of innocent virgin chickens. The music was still pretty cool, and they seemed pretty authentically country. So I felt a bit obligated to effect their pics with sepia:

'Twas a very good show. The musicians of both bands were seasoned enough to deal with the annoying drunks effectively without offending them, and all had a damn good time.
Another show soon, guys?

a meal unplanned

2008-04-19T09:25:00.000-07:00

I try to plan things, but I'm just too much of a space cadet. This isn't lost on my kids.
I got this little chalkboard, on which to post the evening entre so the kids could stop asking "what's for dinner?" every ten minutes. Needless to say, I don't always get around to planning meals, so we have what we call "free- for- alls-" that is to say, make whatever you want, you've got perfectly good arms and legs. But I can't always get away with it. Kids crave structure, apparently. So when I go too long without planning, I get a note from one of the kids, in this case, Ana:

Okay, fine. I'll try harder. But it's finals week, so don't be expecting any miracles, y'all.

settling in

2008-04-19T08:35:00.000-07:00

I'm finally starting to get a little more organized, and things are starting to look a little better. I still don't have everything quite where I want it, but it'll all get done in time. I have a few projects waiting in the wings- originally the plan was to move this stained glass window, made by my friend Grant Finley, to my bedroom window where there is more light.
But now I'm thinking I might miss all the rainbows in the living room every morning:

Then there are things like my lanterns, that I'm not sure what to do with yet. But they've been sitting in a box for two years, as I wasn't living in a place with much room or much light. Now, I really want to put them where they can be appreciated.

I've really missed color. It's good to have it back.

World's Most Boring Cat

2008-04-19T06:23:00.000-07:00

The kids have been complaining about Storm. He doesn't play much. Mostly he lounges around. We probably wouldn't even notice him sometimes except that he does fuss when his bowls are empty, and when they're full, he eats loudly- if not with any particular gusto. Now that the parakeets are gone, they want a kitten. Matt says no. I said I wouldn't mind, except that Storm would definitely get jealous and start spraying everywhere. Ana offered to pay to get him neutered. I would have had it done long ago, if Storm ever had the guts to leave the house. But he doesn't. He just sits here all day, being boring. Sometimes we can get him to attack things (mostly our feet), but lately we've had no luck. We still love the kitty- he is a family member- but what do we do about... this?

By the way, that's Mekare's hiccups and giggling you're hearing in the background.

the other blog

2008-04-18T23:59:00.000-07:00

is not for the faint of heart.
It probably was never intended for your eyes.
You probably wouldn't understand.
But that's okay...
it's just my mind
trying to dissect all its tornadoes.

coffee complications

2008-04-18T08:59:00.000-07:00

When I first moved in, I was aware that my old coffeemaker was on the fritz. I decided to clean it and give it one more try. It smelled really good but produced no goods, so I went out and bought this thing. Ten bucks! All the other coffeemakers were $20 or more!
Then I made a pot of coffee. Turns out some kind of design flaw spews grounds all over the inside, making for grainy coffee and unhappy cleaning.
So this morning, I was careful to distribute the grounds evenly at the bottom of the basket, hoping it would work. So far so good- my coffee is grounds- free. But I had a hell of a time trying to get the basket back in at the right angle! I fought with the damn thing for five minutes! I'm not THAT challenged with physics. I figured out that another design thing in the coffee pot lid pushes up on the basket, so it won't fit properly until you remove the pot, set the basket, and replace the pot.
OK. Got the order down. Perhaps I should turn in a circle, stomp my left foot three times, and say "Top o' the morning!" to the coffee maker to make the coffee gods happy? Would that prevent another harried moment fighting with this plastic POS?
I almost got annoyed enough to opt for one of these things, which I generally reserve for camping:

But now that the ordeal is over and I have my nice cup of hot coffee, I am calm and relaxed and almost ready for my shower. Have to wait until the dishwasher is done, or be subjected to fluctuating temperatures and turning into the Shower Monster again- i.e. that monster that screeches loudly and emerges from the bathroom in a hastily- thrown- on bathrobe, grinding its teeth and dripping with various scented foams, stomps in the direction of the dishwasher, points and rants loudly in gibberish while pushing buttons then disappears back into the bathroom lair.

Comic Relief- my current favorite song/ video

2008-04-17T21:38:00.001-07:00

I'm so glad I'll never have a relationship like THIS again- and yet I watch it happen around me way too often.

Polygamy's Media Edge

2008-04-17T09:54:00.001-07:00

I've read a lot of news articles, seen a lot of news programs, and read a lot of blogs on this- and I've gotta say, people- ignorance is the most rampant thing I've seen on all fronts.

First, you have the "unpopular" religion, the convicted sex offenders, the Eldorado compound, the mysterious, damning phone calls, and the raid. Then you have people crying on TV- mothers crying for their children. You have people damning the police and Texas for removing the kids based on "evidence" from an abusee who, as it turns out, is either A. incredibly elusive, B. hacked up or strangled and buried somewhere, or C. doesn't exist.

Just about all the responses I've heard and seen are from people going on about lifestyle choices and freedom of religion. "They were invaded because of the stigma against polygamy, but it's practiced just fine in other parts of the world!" they squawk.

It never ceases to amaze me how readily people will throw their opinions at something they know so very little about.

Here's the truth, as my studies/ research have found it:

First of all, I know how much no one wants to believe that this can happen. But it does. IT IS happening.

1. The polygamous communities in Utah and other places are NOT looked down upon because there are plural wives in a family. They are looked down upon because these "wives" are often between 12- 17 years of age, and usually related to the groom.

2. These people are BORN INTO these practices and have no idea what the world outside is like. They have NO IDEA that rape is a bad thing, even child rape. As far as they know, it's all "God's Will."

3. Polygamy in other parts of the world is almost never chosen by women, even in Islam. In fact, many Islamic women are contesting that polygamy (among other things) should even be in practice, because they've read the Koran, and found that there is no "blanket right" for a man to marry multiple wives. Such practices were only suggested by their Prophet under "extreme circumstances."

4. Several girls have tried to escape polygamy, and ended up beaten and hospitalized. The ones that have formed a group called Tapestry Against Polygamy. Here's their website: http://www.polygamy.org/

5. The last I heard of a boy who was raised in an FLDS home and chose to move away, he was on the news charged with murder for killing his girlfriend when she refused to have sex with him in front of all his friends. This was maybe a year or two ago, in Salt Lake City.

Now, we have all these polygamous women crying on TV. I bet this was the men's idea. I hear they're crying, too, but where the hell are they? You think they're going to show up on camera? No? Why?? Because they are CRIMINALS.

These women do what they're told. They've never been allowed to have free agency.

Taking 416 kids away from their families is a huge responsibility. We know about the 16 year old girl they found who already has FOUR children. As far as the 16 year old who made the phone calls? Maybe she was caught and silenced, maybe she's afraid to say anything for fear of retribution, and maybe (long shot) she was made up by someone who really wanted to see this happen. But I doubt it.

If these women were educated and still chose polygamy, I would back their rights to it 100%. But this just isn't the case. Never has been. Why? Because women aren't suckers unless they're brainwashed.

Bring on the hate mail! But please, at least do us all the courtesy of looking into this from all angles yourself before you start to squawk.

Here are some other links of interest:

Polygamous sons run off because they are competition for wives:
http://www.childbrides.org/boys.html

Tom Green- remember that guy?
http://archive.harktheherald.com/archive_detail.php?archiveFile=./pubfiles/prv/archive/2002/July/04/Commentary/26230.xml&start=0&numPer=20&keyword=tom+greene+polygamy&sectionSearch=&begindate=1%2F1%2F1997&enddate=4%2F17%2F2008&authorSearch=&IncludeStories=1&pubsection=&page=&IncludePages=1&IncludeImages=1&mode=allwords&archive_pubname=The+Daily+Herald%0A%09%09%09

The Infamous Kingston family:
http://archive.harktheherald.com/archive_detail.php?archiveFile=./pubfiles/prv/archive/2003/August/29/State/30.xml&start=0&numPer=20&keyword=kingston&sectionSearch=&begindate=1%2F1%2F1997&enddate=4%2F17%2F2008&authorSearch=&IncludeStories=1&pubsection=&page=&IncludePages=1&IncludeImages=1&mode=allwords&archive_pubname=Heraldextra.com%0A%09%09%09

http://archive.harktheherald.com/archive_detail.php?archiveFile=./pubfiles/prv/archive/2003/June/11/State/6639.xml&start=0&numPer=20&keyword=kingston&sectionSearch=&begindate=1%2F1%2F1997&enddate=4%2F17%2F2008&authorSearch=&IncludeStories=1&pubsection=&page=&IncludePages=1&IncludeImages=1&mode=allwords&archive_pubname=The+Daily+Herald%0A%09%09%09

I'll find more, if you want.

In Defense of the Wonder- Bra

2008-04-17T07:00:00.000-07:00

No matter what one's size or style is, all clothes sold to females in the United States seem to have one thing in common- they expect all women to have the same body type. From the classic v- neck to the square neck to the dramatic "plunge," there is no neckline I have found that was meant to flatter an A cup.
I've heard it said that a woman who wears a wonder- bra is misrepresenting herself in order to land a man. Of course, this was not uttered by a woman who has had the horrifying experience of trying on top after top just to look in the mirror and see a disproportionate image that doesn't look good in anything, because it was all made for women who look like they came out of a box with a Barbie body and a matching plastic smile. Also, the woman with the Large size jeans and Small size top is having a bad enough time as it is, then they come out with those low- rise things.
I think I've figured it out to a certain extent. The fashion designers assume that everyone wants to look just like the stars. So they go ahead and assume that everyone has Lucy Liu's shoulders, Jessica Alba's bust, Penelope Cruz's waist, Beyonce's behind, Jessica Simpson's thighs, and Jennifer Lopez's legs. Oh, and that they all weigh about as much as half the Olsen twins, which is probably slightly more than the weight of a duck. But knowing that women do grow up and still need clothes, they keep the same style and just make it bigger. What you end up with is low- rise jeans in an XL shaped like the legs of an XS, and an XS top shaped like an XL bust. And don't think women haven't noticed that men's clothes cost, on average, two dollars less per item- for far more material.
After much trial and error, some embarrassing outfits, and more money than we'd like to admit, some women have figured out how to assemble an outfit that doesn't require plastic surgery. In many cases, this includes the Wonder Bra. It fills in where some women can't, and hides the fact that most women (-gasp-) don't have perfectly flat stomachs by making them look a bit more proportionate. None of these outfits can include low- rise jeans without resulting in the dreaded muffin- top. Who designed those things, anyway? Voyeuristic men looking down the streets, watching all the cracks walking down the sidewalks?
This is why a lot of women have started wearing their pajama pants outdoors. They're cute and comfortable and not embarrassing, not to mention about ten bucks less than a pair of jeans. But even if we're just wearing plain old t- shirts, some of us still like the Wonder Bra. We don't want the Dolly Parton look, we just want to look good enough in our clothes to give us that little bit of self- esteem to make it through the day.
So if you're anti- Wonder Bra, don't bark at us. Get a hold of those fashion designers, and bark at them to design clothes that don't make us feel silly without a little boost.

Easter memories

2008-03-23T09:27:00.000-07:00

Since my sister decided to mention it in her blog, I thought it only fair to post my least favorite Easter memory on my own blog.
See this cactus? It's called a cane cholla. I got a little too familiar with it one early Spring day when I was 7 or 8. Only the cholla I got to know wasn't nearly as pretty and didn't have fruit on it. Just spines. Lots and lots of spines.

It was easter sunday, and all us little kids were looking forward to the annual easter egg hunt. Some genius thought it would be nice to have the older kids hide the loot for the little kids. I guess none of them remembered how much 12 year olds HATE their 7 year old siblings. These sadistic pre- teens and teens hid candy in the cacti, in ditches, snake holes, etc.
Remember your last easter egg hunt? Was it in any way a slow- paced affair? Doubtful. Every easter egg hunt I've ever seen involves kids running around as fast as they can to get all the candy and eggs before anyone else. There was always at least one greedy snot that grabbed things out from under the slower kid's noses, and if you were slow, you were shit out of luck. Like my brother said, "Easter to me back then was like Disneyland. Parents all got tired and some kid ended up crying."
So they let us kids loose in the cactus- covered desert to destroy each other's self- confidence and give us an early lesson in bear markets and capitalism.
I had managed to grab two bags of candy and an egg when I spotted a bag of candy in a cane cholla. It was huge- almost as tall as me, but hey! Candy! I got there just in time for resident candy sniper Amy Peterson to grab it. So I turned around to see what I could see- and slipped on some gravel. I fell backwards right into that sinister cholla cactus.
I must have made a lot of noise because kids came running from all over. It must have been like witnessing a car crash or a house burning down, on the munchkin level anyway. A few of them tried to comfort me, trying to give me their easter eggs. The last thing I remembered before passing out was Mark handing me an orange egg with an owl on it, and thinking 'forget the eggs, I want CANDY... but they're not going to give it up, are they?'
Then I woke up in the church kitchen on one of those metal food carts. My basket was full. Of eggs. At least they didn't steal what little candy I'd managed to grab before the accident. My paternal grandmother, who was my favorite person in the world, was hanging over me and looking very sympathetic. "You poor thing... did they get them all out of your butt? Hmmm?" OK, so I had a lot of cactus spines stuck in my ass, but I must say the ones in my back and neck and head hurt, too, and didn't get nearly as much attention.
I don't remember feeling much pain anymore. I think I blocked a lot of it out. Mostly I remember those stingy bastards horking all the candy and being grateful it wasn't their ass in a cactus. I would have liked to chuck a few of them in a cholla, see how they liked it. Then I'D have all the candy. Muuhahahahaha.
A week or so later, the church brought in a bulldozer and they took all the cacti out of the church landscaping. I was glad for that- I never wanted to see that cactus again.
They also had the adults hide the candy and eggs from then on. I wonder if the nasty older kids got the lecture they deserved for planning the deaths and/ or maimings of their younger siblings. I'm pretty sure it was seen as lapse of judgment, but we little kids knew better. They were out to get us, as always.
So there you have it, my embarrassing easter cactus story. Hope you enjoyed it.

I'm trying

2008-03-13T10:32:00.000-07:00

I haven't meant to neglect everyone. I've just been really busy with moving and school and Matt's kidney/ teeth issues and everything, so blogging hasn't been my highest priority.
Some good news: we found a place that will only charge us 50% for Matt's dental work. The problem is, it's still going to run us about $1500- and that's for just yanking most of them, then we need to find a place where they'll help him with dentures. Then there's his kidney problems. He has stones, but the doctors say they shouldn't be causing him pain because they're non- obstructive. They told him that before, but he was still in pain then, too. Thankfully his doctor seems to understand that he really is in a lot of pain, unfortunately a diagnosis is eluding us.
I'm falling behind in a couple of my classes. It's spring break for me- which means I get to spend lots of time writing and catching up. While packing and unpacking and hanging things and storing things and wondering how I'm going to get my washer and dryer here so I don't lose my gourd. I was up until almost 1:00 am doing laundry since I had to drive to Spanish Fork and then was a victim of a faulty dryer.
Of all our large furniture, only our beds have made it here. I'm using a TV stand as a temporary desk, and the TV is sitting on a couple of wooden military crates marked "explosive shells" or something to that effect. That's where we keep our old VHS tapes.
Mekare's birthday was held at the old apartment. She had lots of fun, and her friends seemed to enjoy themselves, too. She loved her cake, her new bike, her new purse, and her presents from Auntie Ree and Grandma and Grumpa. She went to the theater with Arielle and her friends -can't remember what movie they saw. Spider wick, I think.
I've got to make some calls, beg some people with trucks and trailers to help us out, and try not to fall over.

gourmet cooking a la me

2008-03-04T12:25:00.000-08:00

There are a billion recipes online, and most of them make me cringe. I don't know about you folks, but most of these "easy' recipes have far too many ingredients and steps to make it anything less than time consuming in my book. So I started making up my own recipes. I love food and I love eating it, but I hate taking forever to get to the eating part. Here's an example.

Their teriyaki chicken recipe:

Ingredients:

1 (3 pound) whole chicken, cut in half
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cup soy sauce
1 tablespoon grated fresh ginger
2 cloves garlic, minced

DIRECTIONS

Rinse chicken halves, and pat dry with paper towels. Place chicken cut side down in a 9x13 inch baking dish.
In a medium mixing bowl, combine sugar, soy sauce, grated ginger and garlic. Mix well, and pour mixture over chicken. Cover and refrigerate for at least 3 hours.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
Bake chicken uncovered in the preheated oven for 1 hour, basting frequently. Test for doneness, making sure there is no pink left in the meat. Let cool slightly, then cut into smaller pieces to serve.

MY teriyaki chicken recipe:

Ingredients:
One bottle Veri Veri Teriyaki Sauce
One bag 100% natural chicken strips

Directions: Preheat oven to 375. Dump chicken into casserole dish. Shake bottle of sauce well. Dump sauce over chicken. Stir well. Stick it in the oven for about 45 minutes. See that picture? That's all this is- only served over rice with some sauted mushrooms on top.

Here's another one:

Their three bean salad:

Ingredients:

1 (15 ounce) can green beans
1 pound wax beans
1 (15 ounce) can kidney beans, drained and rinsed
1 onion, sliced into thin rings
3/4 cup white sugar
2/3 cup distilled white vinegar
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon celery seed

DIRECTIONS

Mix together green beans, wax beans, kidney beans, onion, sugar, vinegar, vegetable oil, salt, pepper, and celery seed. Let set in refrigerator for at least 12 hours.

MY three bean salad:

Ingredients:
1 can garbanzo beans
1 can dark red kidney beans
1 can cut green beans or yellow wax beans
1/2 red onion, diced
1 cup pre- made olive tempanade

Directions:
Throw it all in a mixing bowl. Stir. Serve.
I just had it for lunch, and it was awesome.

So many people think they can't cook. I think it's because they've seen too many of these recipes and know they just don't want to go through all that crap when they've got so much on their plate, so to speak, as it is. So they open a box and nuke something.

Don't give up so easily! Cooking is easy! A couple of pre- made things, like sauces, and that's all you need. It's not like you've got to slaughter and pluck your own chicken. Don't feel bad if you don't fit into the Betty Crocker persona- I sure as hell don't, and I don't like spending half the day grating and slicing and blending, either. When I have to, I do, but I minimize it as much as possible. So have fun in the kitchen, and toss all those ridiculous recipes.
Well, except the Gholdston BBQ ribs and the Gholdston Pecan Pie. Or any recipe that begins with Gholdston.

moving in 12 days

2008-03-03T07:35:00.000-08:00

Hooray for paperwork.
All I have to do is run around like crazy, drain my bank account, keep track of all the afore- mentioned paperwork, stick everything I own in boxes, somehow persuade (bribe?) the kids into doing the same, throw these boxes into a truck of some sort, cart it all to the new place, hope and pray no one packed my measuring tape (perhaps I should just keep it in my pocket for the next 12 days), figure out how to feng- shui the furniture, beg and plead with some folks to help us move, and get my washer and dryer out of storage and haul them- and everything else, up the stairs to my classy new condo. Oh, and then there's the argument of which munchkin gets her own room. It depends on chores, grades, and attitude.
Oh yeah, and I have midterms while all this is going on. Goddammitt.
The kids were not overwhelmingly thrilled about moving to this particular area, as all their friends are either in SF or on the other side of Springville. Then I showed them the place, and told them about the horses right around the corner and the guy with the ostriches and lamas up the street. And we have a balcony! This all cheered them up immensely. I guess they just couldn't get as excited as I did about the granite counter tops and the jetted tub. They will learn.
I will inform friends and family of the new address just as soon as I drop of the deposit.
Well, here it is...

coffee shop blues

2008-02-29T16:22:00.000-08:00

People bug the living piss out of me.

One particular guy, who spends at least 80% of his life at the only coffee shop in Provo, is driving me phucking nuts. I have a new nickname for him- "Word In Edgewise." If you have half a second to get your own opinion in, it's because he's only just realized he needs to stop for air. And as soon as he's gotten a breath, he'll make sure everyone knows that everything you just said is WRONG. Yeah, pretty good for a pizza delivery guy. Education: Unknown. He's just always, always right- as far as he's concerned.
I'm grateful for the folks in my U.S. Military History class- not only can I speak without being inundated with the opinions of the ignorant, but I can actually hear educated insights from people with real educations who aren't driven more by opinion than fact! It's so nice! Anth 4150 is great for that, too, except that the material is so complex that without Dr. Knowlton's help, we'd all be very confused. Well, except for Heath and Joycelyn and Jordan, who are damn brilliant.
Dr. Knowlton is very helpful. I'm having trouble writing the current paper for this class because I'm a perfectionist when it comes to my writing and I'm not comfortable enough with the material to produce what I would consider a decent paper. He relates, he said, but "being a perfectionist can kill you." "It is killing me," I told him. So I'm going to bring in what crap I have and talk to him about it and we'll see where it can go from there.
I might get to go out and play some drums tonight, so I'm going to take a short nap and get ready. Next Saturday is the next gig with Spanky's Garage Band at the Salt Creek bar in Nephi. I like it there- it's made of huge logs and the atmosphere is comfortable. The stage is nice and big, too, so when we take pics of the band we can get on the stage without getting in their way. Unfortunately the band website is currently down. It will be back up soon though.

Bar Band Etiquette

2008-02-11T17:12:00.000-08:00

DISCLAIMER: I do not speak for the band. I’m just a roadette with opinions.

No, ’bar band etiquette’ is not an oxymoron. We know you want to really let your hair down on the weekends, catch some grub and local band and maybe a few drinks. Maybe you’re the laid- back type and you mean well. We know you do. That said, there are some things all patrons should know when it comes to how to address a local band.
First of all, being in a band is not all fun and games. I’ve done it a few times as a vocalist, and at the moment I’m a “roadette” (my husband is a roadie) and volunteer band photographer/ videographer. It’s hard work to get everything and everyone working together. Most bands practice at least twice a week. That equipment is often a lot more expensive than it looks, and of course there’s the matter of people pouring out their hearts, dreams, and souls all over the seedy little bar just for your entertainment. Believe me, it’s not like they do it for the money- a lot of money goes into being in a garage band, but not a lot of cash comes out. So let’s have some respect, shall we?
This past weekend was a big deal in a little place called The Other End in Heber. We stayed in a hotel for two days so the band could jam on Friday and Saturday evening. Friday night was great. Everything sounded great, the crowd was enthusiastic but chill, and everyone had an awesome time. We hoped it would be just as good the next night.
Unfortunately, when we came in with the equipment on Saturday, we immediately knew things would be a bit more complicated. A group of people sitting near the stage were already plastered and couldn’t wait to meet us. That wasn’t too bad, except that one of them wouldn’t shut up about how he’s from Montana, and politely listening to him lost us valuable set- up time.
Our lead singer, Amber, has one of the most amazing voices I’ve ever heard, and I’m picky. She’s powerful and feminine and sexy without being slutty, and the crowd tends to appreciate that. Some people appreciate it a bit too much. “Yeah, Amber’s always got some guy trying to ask her out or something,” Brandon (a.k.a. Spanky), the bass player, told me once. I could relate to this from my own experiences, and let me tell you something guys- she doesn’t want to hear about your intentions while she’s on stage trying to jam. She doesn’t want to hear about it afterward, either. Think about it, folks. She’s in a band. She’s incredible. 2 + 2= she’s taken, and usually by another band member- in this case John, the lead guitarist.
Perhaps more appreciative of Amber than the hormone- laden men are the women in the crowd. She speaks to them. It’s hard to get the ladies to listen to you when you’re a girl in the band, because usually they assume you’re competition for the guys. You’re going to get male attention whether you like it or not, and the female patrons want their attention, too. But Amber accomplishes nicely what I’ve always tried- and sometimes failed to do- relate to the audience. She gets all the girls in front of the stage singing into her mic, and they love it. But Saturday night, people were getting a bit too rowdy. It wasn’t just appreciative fans approaching the stage, or even guys wanting to ask her out. It’s great that people were way into it, but at the same time they were getting to the point of causing injury. At one point, some guy who was rather large and of the hairy variety stomped right up to Amber and started accusing her of trying to get him thrown out. I just about jumped up and told him to get out of her face, but noticed the band guys closing ranks and the bouncer fast approaching, and thought I should just stay out of the way. Thankfully someone else took the fight outside with him and we were free of violent incidents, but that made me mad.
The sound board was set up on the right side of the stage at a booth. This area is off- limits to anyone but the band, the people they brought with them, the roadie, and the roadette. I can’t tell you how many people came inches from spilling their beer all over it. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen it happen, and the last time I saw it, the drunk knocked over the desk it was on THEN spilled his beer on it. A sound board may look like just a bunch of knobs and switches to you, but it’s the nervous system of all the band’s equipment. Not to mention, it cost them a couple grand or so. Try to keep your drinks and chili cheese fries away from it.
A few more tips on how to address a band at a bar or party:
1. Don’t yap their heads off. It’s cool to say hello and tell them you appreciate them- in fact, it’s encouraged. Bands love knowing they are appreciated. But they’ve got a show to put on for you and your fellow patrons, and they’ve got work to do.
2. Know your limits. This is just general etiquette. I personally don’t think there’s an excuse for getting too drunk, unless it’s the first time you’ve drank in your life. After that, you can pretty much figure out when you’ve had enough and it’s time to quit. I can do it, so can you. Once you’re wasted, you’re an annoyance at best, and a possible threat. The more trashed you are, the more distance you should keep from the band and their cherished equipment. Rule of thumb for the lackeys- if you’re spilling your beer, you shouldn’t be drinking it.
Duh.
3. If you really want to ask a band member out to a duck pond park or ice cream social, please wait until they’re on break and they’re not preoccupied with more important matters. Then politely ask if he or she would like your number. If he or she declines, don’t take it personally. Like I said, they might be taken. Pay attention- did they bring a date/ husband/ wife? Are they snogging with anyone between sets? Even if they’re not, be nice. Don’t assume they’re oversexed just because they’re musicians.
4. Please don’t yell “Free Bird!” They normally have a set of songs planned out (in the case of Spanky’s Garage Band, four sets in a night) that they‘ve been working on for some time. Sometimes, if the crowd is really persuasive, they might play something unrehearsed, but that’s unusual unless they ASK if anyone has any requests.
5. They probably aren’t going to hire your buddy who is “the best drummer on the planet, dude!” If they have a drummer, there’s a reason he’s on the stage and someone else isn’t. If they’re looking for a new drummer/ guitarist/ keyboard player/ etc., they will advertise. Usually musicians happen to know lots of other musicians and can find one well enough on their own. Especially if it’s a drummer. If they’re keeping a drummer, they must like him, as drummers are all over the place.
6. Unless you’re Steve Vai, Danny Carey, or some third renowned musician, don’t ask to play the instruments. They are as children to those who own them. You wouldn’t just hand your kid to a random stranger, so don’t expect them to.
7. Get up and dance! It’s the best way to let the band know you like what they’re doing. They’ll sign things for you, let you take pictures with them, even hold the mic to the audience and let you all scream into it. And as you dance, be nice to the people dancing around you. Don’t knock them over or mosh when they’re playing “Every Rose has its Thorn.” Have a good time, and let other people enjoy the night, too. In the end, that’s what being in a band or being in an audience is all about. It’s symbiotic. They’ll have fun if you have fun, and everyone goes home happy.
That’s not too hard, is it?

a slight pottery obsession...

2008-01-15T18:28:00.000-08:00

I don't remember how it started, but one day I found myself giving all my dishes away and replacing them with handmade pottery. Not the kind people pay through the nose for- those beautiful, professional pieces made by skilled artisans- but the pieces people tend to make in high school for a while before dropping the art and diving head- first into marriage. Suddenly, somehow, factory- made dishes were no longer good enough for my standard press board apartment cupboards.
I'll admit I went a little nuts. I raided every D.I., Savers, and Salvation Army in a 100- mile radius and looted them of every halfway decent pottery piece I could find. My husband, who had been quite supportive at first, became a little wary. "Where are you going to put all this stuff?" he said cautiously, eyeing the growing mass of amateur masterpieces on the dining room table. "I'll just stick them in the hutch," I said, gleefully emptying plastic thrift- store bags of their newspaper- wrapped treasures.
Alas, there was not enough room in the hutch for my collection, and soon enough creatively- stacked, mismatched pottery pieces had colonized the counter tops and tables, and indeed every flat surface they could find. Still, I could not stop raiding D.I. two or three times every week for whatever pieces might still be lurking among the distasteful machine- produced junk. I got rid of all the factory stuff and filled my cabinets with pottery. Eventually, every piece found a home.
I guess that one day, I just got dissatisfied with the cold, unfeeling, artless manners of mass production. As an amateur artist myself, I love to create kind of a "personality" in my pieces that can't be replicated anywhere else. A simple cup of tea presented in an earthen piece somehow is more stress- reducing to me than the same tea served in a dollar store coffee mug.
Perhaps handmade pottery just reminds me of the perfection people still strive for that often turns out not so perfect, but more beautiful than if it had been. Sometimes it sits a little crooked, and maybe the top isn't exactly symmetrical, but it's as beautiful as the hands of the artist who created it. Humanity is often remembered more for its failures, atrocities, and/ or aspirations than its omnipresent serendipitous beauty. When we get down to the simpler things, like home cooking or gardening, and those things that take skill and dedication, I think that's where we find who we are. Mass production seems to take the humanity out of art and replace it with stacks and stacks of drab, perfectly uniform plates and saucers.
I'll take my wobbly, off- color teacup any day.

Absent Minded?

2007-12-31T16:59:00.000-08:00

So I got up this morning, got all ready to go, put my bitch hat on:

Then I suddenly realized that I was still wearing these:

But I still got a lot done today, including taking the best picture since November:

Unsung Artistry

2007-12-30T09:08:00.000-08:00

This is my new favorite tea cup/ latte mug. I found it at D.I. for fifty cents. I love it. It's huge and colorful and a little wobbly.
I'm working on eventually replacing all the factory dishes in my house with dishes like this. I might have to make my own pottery plates (slab style) though, as I have only found one plate so far. There are a lot of people who do pottery in high school and then drop the art, and sometimes they'll give me what they made. Sometimes I'll find some higher quality stuff, but that's pretty rare. I'm content with the wobblies- I think they have character.
I need to get back into painting. There are a few artists I want to trade work with, like my friend Tirzah who does some of the most amazingly 3-d realism I've ever seen. Her stuff should seriously be in museums. Then there's my cousin Michele, who has a great eye for color and line and composition. And of course, my friend Grant Finley, who does stained glass (we traded some of my massages for some of those pieces) and gorgeous oil paintings of the landscapes out here. I'm not sure if he's willing to trade paintings, but then, he hasn't seen my stuff yet. My friend Swan is a very good potter- maybe I can get him to check my work out, too. My uncle Frank makes the most beautiful natural stone necklaces, and we're working on a trade. My biggest problem is, he's in NYC and I suck at getting things put in the mail!
My friend David Ssejinja supports hundreds of orphans and widows in his native Uganda by selling the art they produce. I have a lovely small (and growing) collection of African art.
Supporting art is extremely important to me, the more originally beautiful the better. I don't like the crap people think they can throw on a piece of paper and call "art," and it seems that the artists who start out wealthy are the ones who can get away with that while people who don't have much but amazing talent get screwed.
By the time I'm done, my house will be like a museum of unsung artists. I'm going to have a lot of fun with this.

R.I.P. Bhutto

2007-12-27T17:30:00.000-08:00

I'm no political analyst, and I'm definitely not an expert on the chaos in the Middle East. But I am shocked and very upset, and I did cry for Benazir Bhutto.
And I'm very suspicious of Musharaff. It doesn't take an analyst to figure out that he might have had a reason to be complacent about her exposure to danger, and Bhutto had her own reasons to be suspicious of him. The Bush administration, as usual, has fumbled in seemingly every aspect in its policies with Pakistan- not that it's done any better with any other nation.
Every conceivable Islamic militant group is suspect. I have no idea how it will all turn out in the history books, but one thing is for sure- a very important, much loved leader is dead.
I hope her people will honor her memory by living her words, hopes, and dreams- and I hope all nations will be there to support them in fulfilling her life's work.
May her memory serve her country long in its ongoing battle for democracy.

It's that time of year again...

2007-12-21T17:08:00.000-08:00

My grades are in for the Fall semester. I was extremely worried about my upper level classes, particularly ANTH 3220- Women, Food, and the Body. "Your teacher seems to like you," Matt reassured me, but I had to let him know that Dr. Joylin Namie, while she likes a lot of people, will grade them all the same- based on merit, not likability. She is one of the toughest teachers in the school, and I was feeling quite like I had failed miserably to impress her.
Then I got my grades. Here's the rundown:

ANTH 1020 Biological Anthropology: A
I loved this class. My teacher, Dr. Jefferys, wasn't just knowledgeable and interesting, he was hilarious.

ANTH 1070 Multicultural Societies: B-
Aunty Gwen is one of the funnest and most available teachers in the school. This class was great. However, I took that for granted a bit and didn't turn some papers in on time as I flailed with keeping up with my other classes.

ANTH 3220 Women, Food, and the Body: B+
Far, far better than I expected! I guess most of my papers did turn out very well, but my term paper bombed like the comeback of the Pet Rock. Still I always did my best to contribute to class discussion and get everything turned in- especially since Dr. J never accepts late papers. Ever.

ANTH 3450 Shamanism and Indigenous Religion: A
I was always late to this class. Maybe that got me extra credit, seeing as to the indigenous Shaman, time is illusory (j/k). I got my work in, though, and my teacher is a pretty cool guy.

Woohoo! I can breathe! Next term, I'll most likely be working for the paper again- I have the perfect first article to submit that I just know Robbin and Eleanor are going to gush over (director and editor- in- chief). I've signed up for 12 credit hours again, two upper level again. -sigh- We'll see if I can keep my synapses firing.

Oh yeah, and it's the holiday season! Tonight is the Winter Solstice at 11:08pm. We each opened two presents, and I gave Matt a third one because I knew he'd love it and I just couldn't wait. It's wasn't anything really expensive, just a little citrus juicer designed in a very convenient manner- and Matt, who loves citrus above all other fruit, vegetable, or mineral, did love it.
He went out to look for a present for me.

The kids got shoes and clothes, and colored pencils. Ana got the most awesome colored pencils I have ever seen (see pic)!
Matt just got home and gave me preliminary Yule present- some very expensive Biolage conditioner. Wow. How did he know?! Oh, yeah, the fighting with the hairbrush and the mop on my head all the time.
I think I'm going to attempt a celebratory cafe mocha.

Year's end- resolutions and phuckisms

2007-12-16T14:50:00.000-08:00

It has been called to the attention of my befuddled, lackadaisical brain that the end of the year is fast approaching. Upon the reflection of this, I have suddenly realized that I've spent the past year stressed out, exhausted, irritated, in pain, uninspired, apathetic, and generally feeling like shit. All phucking year.

I've decided to take certain measures:

1. Once my bills are caught up and we're moved, I'm going to a day spa- whether it be by student loan or tax return, so help me, I will get some cranial- sacral done. And maybe some reflexology- and definitely a heated stone massage.

2. When I move, I'm not telling a few people where I live. I might even change my phone number. I'm sick of trying so hard to take care of everyone that I end up neglecting myself. For the first time in my life, I'm going to say "Phuck Altruism" for the sake of my health!

3. I'm getting back into Yoga, and I'm going to wear loose comfy clothes, not look- at- my- ass low- rise yoga pants that are not nearly as comfortable. To hell with that idiotic pseudo- health- clique college bitch fashion scene. (hey Russ, are you teaching any classes next term?)

That's it. Any more than three and I'll lose focus.

That's right! No more taking advantage of my hospitality, bitches! I'm done!

If you want to come over for tea and bless me with non- drama- related conversation, sure! Give us a call. But please keep things pleasant and uplifting- I don't want to hear about how your cat was raped and your family hates you. NO MORE, I say!! No more!!

The Insanity of Having Children

2007-12-16T09:41:00.000-08:00

People ask me sometimes why I don't blog about my kids much. Well, like I've said before, I'd have to write a novel for each of them. And they're all changing so fast.

When I was taking a drawing class, I ended up hanging out with a group of (hippies) artists who all had different styles, influences, etc. The one thing they all had in common- and I've come to recognize fellow artists this way (and I do it when I do art, too)- it doesn't matter if they're using a sketch pad, easel, construction paper, or doodling in the margin of their homework notebook paper- they've always got their headphones in their ears and their mediums on them. They screw their faces into a mask of intense concentration, zone into what they're drawing, and listen to their music. You have to throw rocks at them to get their attention. Guess who started doing this exact thing with absolutely no influences at all that I know of? Arielle. She'll be sitting there drawing her anime pictres with that look on her face, earbuds firmly in place, and I'll start wondering if she shouldn't be at the coffee shop with all the other (hippies) artists.

Anna, of course, is our special little evil goth monster who wants everyone to think she doesn't give a flying rat's ass. And as far as she knows, that's what we all think- sort of. I'm glad she feels like she can talk to me about anything, and does ("I had so much fun at school, mom! We were throwing cheese in random people's lockers!"), but she caught me off guard last week when Mekare was late coming home from a friend's house. Understand, now- Mekare is the LAST person Anna wants people to think she cares about (Oops, it's Ana now- don't tell her I've been spelling it wrong!). Yet when she wasn't home on time, Ana called me and told me, in a concerned tone, that she was getting worried (!). I told her what number to call and all was well, but that was... interesting. Lately she's been spending a lot of time with a neighbor who happens to be disabled, and the lady's son. And a few months ago when the kittens were newborn, she was walking outside with one and I stopped her, worried about the kitten. "But mom, this little boy's dad just yelled at him and he's really sad, and I thought showing him the kitten might cheer him up." Aw. There goes the tough kid image- well, except for the black eye liner and nail polish, safety pins where they don't need to be, and punk music blaring from her room.

And of course, there's Mekare. She's a complex little enigma. She loves everyone, unless she hates them like poison. She'll spend hours in front of the mirror, doing her hair, trying on clothes, and primping. She's a miniature Elizabeth Taylor. She's also a bit too heterosexual for her age. She's 10 and was already drooling over Peter Steele with me and Madge the other day.Weird. She's also getting to be a decent artist... maybe I should get her a diskman and some CDs and get her focused on drawing? She'll be there soon enough- she's getting into Final Fantasy VII and Inugasha (or whatever it is) like her sister.

She thinks Cloud is hot.

-sigh-

At least I'm not changing diapers anymore.

Kudos for Tori

2007-12-14T15:39:00.001-08:00

I love Tori Amos, not just because her music is beautiful and she's brilliant, but because of how much work she puts into her music. I've done a bit of recording, and I'm telling you, folks, it's not a walk in the park. If you really want a song to sound exactly right, you're talking hours and hours of painstaking work- the playing, the mixing, playing more, fixing problems, etc, etc., etc. Tori Amos must not see the light of day for months on end, considering the quality of work she puts out. So when she gave someone a front row seat, and they treated it like garbage, she threw them out. I would have done the same.

There are a lot of whiners going on about how egotistical she must be and she should "get over herself." This is her life's work! It's her name on the ticket! It's her music, her words, her soul being poured into this! She gave two front row seats to two girls in the back row, and instead of being grateful, they talked on their cell phones, ran in and out for beer, and talked and talked and talked until people around them started getting irritated. Finally, in the middle of a song, Tori stood up and told these girls to "get the fuck out of my show." She was cheered by the people who had been trying to enjoy the music while being distracted by all the people acting like they were at a rave. "It's a privilege to sit in the front row," she went on, "these seats are reserved for people who like music." Then she went right back into the song.

Last month, Matt and I were at a Tool concert. We didn't get GA, and we ended up in the back (but not the back row). Still, it wasn't too bad- until some jackass high on X sitting behind us started talking and yelling at the top of his lungs about sex and drugs and all kinds of bullshit. I missed at least two songs because he was so distracting. Finally he disappeared- he walked out and didn't come back. We guessed he caused a disturbance somewhere and was thrown out, and we were so happy we could actually listen to the damn music!

So the next time you're at a concert, remember how much you paid for the ticket, and how much the people around you paid for theirs- and how much work the artists do (if they're any good, that is). And have some RESPECT!!

And to the guy who posted the comment "Guys never date Tori Amos fans- they're all batshit crazy!" I've dated lots of guys. I love Tori. I know a LOT of girls who are not single and LOVE Tori. In most of my relationships, I've done the breaking up. My husband? Guess what?! He loves Tori!
"Guys never date Tori fans." They marry them.

Hooray?

2007-12-12T09:09:00.001-08:00

Matt's kidneys have been giving him all kinds of trouble. He was diagnosed with stones years ago, one of which he passed before I met him. lately it's just been getting worse, and since we're married now he applied for Medicaid and so far, it looks like he'll be on it soon. Right after we applied, we went down to the ER. They did a CAT scan and guess what? No stones!

Good, because he doesn't have stones. Bad, because now we have no idea why he's in pain. The doctor said he had traces of a mild kidney infection, but it was so slight that he doubted that was the cause of him barely being able to stand for more than 20 minutes. Upon taking the antibiotics, Matt stated, "if this works, I'll go back in there and kiss that doctor's feet."

I myself have been sick so often that it's starting to piss me off. I just got over a cold- flu thing, before that I'd just gotten over one a couple of weeks before- guess what? I'm sick again. It seems like I've got a nasty respiratory illness every couple of weeks. I guess I need to see a doctor too. I just don't want to go outside! It's 20 freaking degrees out there!

So I'm back to the lots- of - fluids- get- lots- of- rest- and- take- vitamin- C crap. I've already started reverting back to my hermit- like ways, sitting in front of the computer listening to Type O Negative with the speakers pointed directly at my ears and trying to finish all these damn papers... I really shouldn't even be blogging. I also have that presentation tomorrow, which means me and Arielle will be baking Sabbat cakes tonight... oh, and I need to somehow pick up some ginger ale (in place of real ale- don't think the good 'ol University would like it much if I went with the traditional cakes and ale... ha ha).

All should go well if I can get my nose to stop running.
I wanna go back to bed... but I've got two finals due tomorrow... nope, three.
Hoooooray.

That's it- I'm Boycotting Hershey's

2007-12-08T13:55:00.001-08:00

It's not like there isn't better chocolate out there, anyway- but any company that so blatantly advocates the use of dangerous drugs- particularly marketing them to kids- sure as hell doesn't deserve MY business.
Whose phucking idea was this, and how the PHUCK did it get past PR??!! Someone needs to get phucking PHIRED.

Past Friends and Foes

2007-12-05T19:46:00.000-08:00

Today was very interesting. I actually found a way to get more organized- with an outdated Microsoft Works program. The planner is very helpful, but some of it is really confusing. Such as- why are there templates for household wine inventories and boat maintenance, but none for shopping lists or to- do lists??
At any rate, I'm motivated. All my homework is arranged for the morning, tomorrow's PowerPoint presentation is ready to go, and I've even managed to get some things done around the house (but not much). Maybe I'll survive the next two weeks!
Today Matt and I were at Cody's, going over a t- shirt design for Spanky's Garage Band (yes, they changed the name). The bass player, Brandon, brought it all over on his laptop. He looked a bit familiar, but that happens to me a lot and I never remember the names so I stayed silent until he said something. "Didn't we jam before?" he asked me. As it turns out, we had! I'd met him at the dentist's office, of all places. We were both getting root canals on opposite sides of a room divider. He overheard my conversation with the assistant about music, and we struck up a conversation- which isn't easy when you've got dental instruments and rubber- gloved hands in your mouths, but when you're passionate about music anything is possible. We'd gotten together with a couple of guitarists but it didn't work out, mostly because one of the guitarists was an anti- social tweaker who played with his back to us.
So we yakked a bit about Black Sabbath and Type O Negative (the latter of which Brandon had not been properly introduced, so Cody and I felt it necessary to enlighten him). It was fun! I don't get to talk music much. Now that Matt's going to be hanging out with these guys a lot, I'll get to talk music all the time! Yippee!!
As Cody was playing Type O's cover of "Black Sabbath," some folks walked in the door. One of them looked all too familiar- not in a good way. I didn't want to know if it was her, so I said nothing again, and I'm glad, because I was right. SHE was the neighborhood slut in my old neighborhood- one of the whores my ex cheated on me with, and who made a point of pissing off every decent woman within a five mile radius around her (and eventually all the guys she played). She pretended to be my friend for months and told me a lot of lies. It made me nauseous to see her again. Thankfully, she didn't approach me.
Matt's kidney stones are driving him crazy. I hope he passes this one soon. We've got to get him in to see a doctor, but that's going to take a lot of paperwork since we have to go with the ones who work with us low income bumpkins.

Ah, for a latte

2007-12-04T18:38:00.000-08:00

We're all out of soy milk, so for the moment, my espresso machine is of no use to me. I'll be up late, even if I have to get up early to take my husband to work- because he's out late and I have a hard time getting to sleep without him snoring in my ear.
Matt has his old job back as a roadi- er- stage tech- for our friend Cody's band, Blinker Fluid. I love the name of their band, but they might go back to their former band name Spanky's Garage Band, because their old bass player has come back to stay (long story). Matt was their tech way back when they were After Eden, and now they're training him to be their audio tech, too. He'll get paid per gig just like the band. It's a nice little source of extra income, and it will be nice to hang out with the band and go to shows and stuff.
I need to get my old job back as an opinions writer for the College Times (whose name will inevitably change as UVSC becomes UVU). I know the editor- in- chief, it's just that every time I see her, we're hurrying in opposite directions. We just say "Hey!" smile, and nod, and keep rushing off. Maybe after class Thursday I'll catch up with her.
The kids have completed their wish lists. So far, Ana's is the most unrealistic, but it's not too bad. She wants a water bed, a bead curtain, a black skull hoodie, and gift cards to Barnes & Noble and "any clothes place in the mall EXCEPT Limited Too they're lame!"
Mekare seems to be re- vamping her style, with emphasis on "vamp." In addition to an iPod, she wants tall black leather boots, a black leather wallet and purse, a black leather coat, a big stuffed white tiger, and "lots of jeans." Both she and Arielle want Inugasha season one on DVD. Whatever that is.
Arielle is mainly interested in her art. She wants sketch pads, colored pencils, mechanical pencil lead, a five subject notebook, manga books by Rurouni Kenshin (whoever that is), an amber stone, a teddy bear, and... a pair of fuzzy socks.
I have no idea what Matt wants, per se, but he's relatively easy to shop for- he's a Star Wars and Lord of the Rings geek. Still, I've got a couple of more original ideas up my sleeve...
Two presentations to go, then finals week, then this term is over. I have learned my lesson- ONE upper level Anth course per term! Of course, next term I've got one upper level anth and one upper level history. And a general. We'll see how well I can keep up.
I think I'm going to put my feet up and veg for a bit. Lots to do tomorrow.

Attempting to Chill (Without Freezing Over)

2007-12-03T15:54:00.000-08:00

We got our first major snow on December 1st, a few weeks later than usual. I love the beauty of sparkling, freshly fallen snow, and the way the sun melts it over the pine needles and it freezes over again, resulting in an icy lace. I HATE driving in the shit, and I can't stand how bloody cold it is in my room. My pillow feels like an iceberg.
Matt loves driving on ice. Thankfully, he was taught properly, and as much as he slides around and scares people watching, he has never crashed and it stopped scaring me last year. He giggles like a little kid as he fishtails across the road, pulls out of the slide, and accelerates in the direction of a nice patch of black ice. I sigh, look out the window, and wonder if we'll be able to get the laundry done before it gets too cold to go outside.
Finally, I have my second- to- last major project of this term out of the way. The last one is all organized and ready to go but for a couple of minor details that I need to work out by the 13th. Finally, I can breathe a little easier. So why am I still fretting? Do I have homework I haven't turned in? I know my finances are a mess and Mekare needs a tutor and the house is a wreck and I'll be moving in a couple of months or so... but at least we've got enough food to last us and we're not doing horribly bad Holiday- wise.
Maybe I just need more sleep.
The kids are writing their wish lists. They're sounding a bit more realistic this year. Maybe they've figured out that if they wish for something obtainable, they just might GET it. Here's my wish list: Genmaicha tea, fuzzy socks, a memory foam pillow, the new Red Hot Chili Peppers CD, and a Moroccan henna lamp. Mostly I want fuzzy socks. Oh, and dark chocolate. (HINT Matt!! )
For once we've got things set up to where everyone we like (and a couple of people we find it worthwhile to tolerate) will all get decent presents from us.
I guess I can just think about relaxing in my fuzzy socks, drinking my tea and listening to Chili Peppers, and it might keep my mind off what my grades might be like at the end of the term- which is in just a couple of weeks. I'm scared. Argh.

Mememememe....

2007-12-01T20:31:00.000-08:00

An idea I got from my sister, who got tagged by someone, yadayadayada I had fun with it.

My Age:

Place I'd like to travel:

Favorite place:

Favorite thing:

Favorite meal (although there's a bit too much rice in this one):

Favorite color (usually):

Nickname:

Birthplace:

Favorite Animal:

Where I live:

Name of a Past Pet:

Past Love:

My First Name:

My Middle Name:

Bad Habit:

First Job:

Grandmother's Name:

There you have it. Try it if you like.

....nnnfffff.....

2007-11-27T17:48:00.000-08:00

Like a dumbass, I forgot to cite my work on my latest paper. I did terribly. That'll teach me to rush around and stress about everything. Gets me nowhere.
But thanks to a classmate's going overtime with his presentation today, I get more time to finish mine! I'll be able to make the Sabbat cakes and bring some ginger ale (in place of real ale) and play some Loreena Mckennitt and maybe get my wedding video thing on a disk. Should be interesting. Obviously my presentation is on Paganism. My teacher can't wait.
As I was preparing the Power Point presentation, the guy on the computer next to mine looked very alarmed at my pictures of practicing Asatru people in Iceland, and asked me what countries they do that in. He was planning his mission and perhaps he's making suggestions to his, um, priest? Bishop? Elder dude? What do you call those guys? At any rate, I found it rather amusing and a little disheartening.
Matt is very apologetic about all the crap that happened on our Thanksgiving trip. He got paid and bought me an early Yule present- a new computer chair! It's so nice to be able to sit down in a chair that doesn't attempt to deposit me on the floor every time I shift my weight. Tonight he's preparing a candlelight dinner. Aww.
I have one more major paper to finish and a couple of minor ones. I'm not as rushed so maybe I'll do better.
Matt's boss gave us a fresh christmas tree. It is very sappy (the tree, not Matt's boss). We need a stand for it, though- we have the kind that you need to drill a hole in the tree for, but this tree has no hole. We need the kind that sticks screws into the tree to keep it upright. Our ornaments and lights are all in storage- we'll be hunting tomorrow through all our storage. Yaaay.
I'd better check my account balance- I just made a deposit and it's still saying I'm overdrawn. WTF.

The Worst Planned Trip Ever (edited)

2007-11-25T12:26:00.000-08:00

Everything was under control, we thought. Matt's sister had called and told us of Buddy's latest estimated arrival time. We'd made the t- shirts for the family. We'd calculated the cost of gas. Then, the first complication: a week or so before, Matt had told his family that we might not be able to go because of financial troubles. They responded by telling Buddy that we weren't coming, and we were denied a place to stay.
That's OK, I thought, we'll just do KOA. Those things are everywhere, right? Camp Pendleton is in San Diego (we were told), and there's a KOA in San Diego. We'll stay there.
So we made the reservations online and packed up the car. We took a big box of canned food and 7 gallons of water, our tent, sleeping bags, and suitcases. We'd told them to pack light. They apparently had no idea what that meant. Arielle brought seven books with her.
Still, we arrived OK- after being forced to stop in the bad side of Las Vegas because Mekare got car sick, getting lost in San Diego due to a sign being taken down by a construction crew and driving around in circles for a couple of hours, and a couple of minor mishaps. Finally we arrived at the KOA after dark. Matt's sister (I'll call her Sister #1) said to get a hold of them around nine the next morning.
The next morning, Matt and I got a map at the KOA store of San Diego. We puzzled over it for a bit and could not find Camp Pendleton. When we got a hold of sister #1, she told us it was in Oceanside.
So we bought another map. Camp Pendleton was an hour or two away. I thought of maybe getting our reservations transferred to a closer KOA, but there was none other south of LA. So we gulped and drove on, got lost, pulled over, asked for directions, got them, and got on the 5 north.
People in California are very nice, helpful people, until they're on the freeway. Then they all want to kill you.
We made it to Camp Pendleton and Del Mar Beach. We had fun playing on the beach for a few hours, and I took some great pictures. We went to Subway for lunch, Matt got some cigarettes at the little store where the Marines shop, and then we got word that Buddy's boat was coming in.
Off we flew to the beach. Matt's dad came onshore first, then Buddy was finally home. We went to the little welcome party place and had free cookies and drinks (even free beer!) then went to sister #1's cabin on the beach.
And there we sat. Everyone took off except me and Matt and a half dozen kids, and we wondered where everyone had gone and what was going on for a bit. Then they came back after a few hours and we all went out to dinner at The Outback, courtesy of Buddy and Boompah.
There was a 45 minute wait. Arielle decided to pass the time by throwing a teenager- sized temper tantrum in front of everyone until I told her to sit in the car.
Dinner was delicious. I had the salmon. I wondered, though, when brother- in- law #1 came over and sat across from me and Matt and said, "So this is the little kid's table?" I didn't want to ruin everyones meal by asking what that was supposed to mean, so I let it go.
We drove back to the KOA pretty late. A lane of freeway disappeared, and traffic quickly went from smooth to WTF when it became evident that ALL the lanes were shut off and we were being forced onto another freeway in an unknown direction. We wandered until we found an open grocery store and asked for directions. Three out of four people looked at us as if we'd just walked off a UFO and the fourth gave us directions to the 15.
We slept. We showered. We drove to visit my parents while everyone else went to Sea World. Matt does not travel well and started going nuts. I almost left him somewhere in Moreno Valley, but we made it to DHS. My parents were moving but took the time to take us out to dinner at El Matador (the shrimp was awesome but the mango margarita wasn't great). The next day we were nearly carjacked when we stopped at a thrift store to try to find a tank top for me since I didn't have one and the heat was killing me. Then I took Matt on a little tour of my hometown and took a few pictures.
We drove back to Camp Pendleton where we stayed in sister #1's cabin. We had a BBQ with Buddy and a few other marines, and had a nice bonfire on the beach. The kids sang camp songs. Matt talked to sister #2 for a bit while Buddy and I discussed history and the insanity thereof, and some of the things he and his bros did to pass the time in the Middle East.
The morning was gorgeous. The day promised to be beautiful. But everyone was packing, and instead of staying another night as we'd been told, everyone was heading back to Cedar City. The kids got to play on the beach for a bit, but the store would no longer sell Matt cigarettes without a military I.D. and he went positively insane. We ended up nearly ripping each other's heads off and finally got him his fucking cigarettes and chilled out.
We stopped somewhere for gas and Matt called sister #2 to figure out where everyone was. She was very frustrated at the lack of communication- no one had even told her we were doing Thanksgiving in Cedar City (I guess we can be thankful that we were at least let in on THAT). On top of that, Matt's dad had accidentally hit a median with his car at a high rate of speed and they were in the process of replacing a tire.
They managed to arrive a while before us, anyway. Sister #3 greeted us with the story of the horrendous road trip and the news that sister #2 had opted to stay in a hotel.
Sister #1 and tribe ran out of gas just minutes before arriving at the off- ramp, but they made it alright and we all settled in for the night. The next day, we were told, dinner would begin early, at around noon, so we could all be home at a decent hour.
Dinner began around 4pm. I took Spike for a walk and watched "O Brother, Where Art Thou" with Matt while the kids watched The Simpsons (all the episodes they've ever seen before- again). Dinner was very, very good- especially the sweet potato casserole. I couldn't even stand up straight by the time pie was served.
We got home around nine on friday night.
Good stuff: Buddy's home safe, the BBQ we didn't want to leave, the beach, the Outback dinner, Thanksgiving dinner, Matt's dad's aplomb, Palm Springs, my parents treating us, and the kids mostly behaving.
The bad: All that damn luggage, the complete and utter lack of communication, the money spent on gas, Anna leaving her clothes at the KOA. Paying for firewood! Argh!
The Downright Ugly: We could have drove 700 MILES LESS than we did if people had let us know that camping on the beach in Camp Pendleton is FREE with a military pass, and that we were going back to Utah a day early!!! The freeways sucked, and the next time I travel with Matt, I'm taking a club with a big spike in it. We're over $300 in the hole right before the holidays (thank the Gods for Sub 4 Santa). Worst of all, Matt and I ended up feeling certain members of his family don't give a flying shit if we're in it.
This blog may piss some people off, but I really don't care. We've vowed never to take a trip of this magnitude again.