Amelia Merritt

Babies.

2011-12-13T23:49:00.000-08:00

My step-mother asked me last week, "So what's the deal with that anyway, have you guys just given up on that or..?" And I do the thing I always do which is to go through what feels like a tiny nuclear explosion in my chest before I regain composure and go to my happy place. I put on a fake smile and I give my socially acceptable answer which is something like, "While I can still physically have kids with my condition (I have an auto-immune disease, like Lupus or Alopecia, but less famous called Hashimoto's) at my age I'd have to be hyper-vigilant and take a slew of pills every day just to make sure my baby doesn't have club foot or some such garbage and it's just not worth it if I can't have a healthy baby, it's not fair to the baby." Which is crap. This exterior dialogue is crap. My Endocrinologist asked me the golden question, in her blunt New Yorker way, "Do you even want to get pregnant?" And I didn't say anything because it seemed too awful to say the truth out loud. Do I want a baby? Yes. Do I want to be pregnant?

The first time I was pregnant a girl called the house around five o'clock at night. I had just gotten home from a shoot. I was excused early that day so I wasn't even supposed to be home yet. I was on the other line with my mother. The girl asked for my then live-in boyfriend and I said he was not home but that I was his girlfriend and could I take a message? She said, "Oh, he has a girlfriend?" And I said, "And a baby on the way. Why?" and she hung up. I clicked over and told my mom. She said, "You're so screwed." I was in the process of asking why she thought I was screwed when the other line rang again. It was the same number. I told my mom she was calling back and she said, "Get details. Call me back." I talked to Mary for over an hour. I tried to get as many details out of her as possible. The gist of it was that my boyfriend, the boyfriend that held me every single night before I went to bed and whispered how wonderful I was and how much he loved and adored me, had gone up to The Owl Bar with his buddy, had handed out his card to a bunch of people there and then proceeded to get drunk, hit on Mary in earnest and go up to her cabin. His friend followed and knocked on the door shouting the entire time they were getting it on in an attempt to break it up. I suppose he had custody of their shared conscience that evening. Mary just repeated to me over and over, "He didn't act like a man with a baby on the way. He didn't act like he had a girlfriend." I found out this all had happened three weeks prior to this phone call. I kicked him out of my townhouse when he came home later that night. After many weeks he moved back in to "help with the baby coming" and eventually we just were back together though I couldn't tell you really how it happened. But I can tell you that it was the worst mistake of my life. He never forgave me for forgiving him. He never respected me ever again and he still doesn't to this day. He needed me to stand up to him and tell him he was a dirt bag because he knew he was one. I told him by my actions he could treat me like dirt and get away with it and so that is exactly what he did. I became "The Doormat." I was never "Amelia" ever again.

The second time I got pregnant I was gobsmacked. I stared at that EPT stick for 20 minutes before I could get off the throne. I had a ring around my butt and numb legs from the sitting. But I could not fathom it. The math was wrong. It was dead wrong. I counted the days when I should have ovulated and the days when I had been with my new boyfriend. The few times we had been together without protection. It made no earthly sense. How could it have happened? It would have to defy everything I learned in High School health about menstruation, ovulation and reproduction. But there it was. A tiny plus sign. I called my boyfriend in California while he was visiting his children who lived in Sacramento at the time. I told him over the phone since he was supposed to be there for a total of three whole weeks. I thought he would want to know. He sat dead silent on the phone. Dead. Silent. Not hanging up, not saying anything. I was surprised by his reaction. It was so odd, this complete inability to speak. It seemed tinged with some kind of dark rage. Why should he be angry? I could see him being surprised, yes, like myself. I mean, I myself was nothing short of flabbergasted. I wasn't supposed to be able to get pregnant easily, let alone at that time of the month. But once home again with me he became literally suicidal. Especially after going with me to an emergency ultrasound. He told me repeatedly the same thing over and over, "I can't be a father." Which I found confusing because he had children already. How can you not be something you already are? He began to act oddly. Super distant, incredibly quiet. And this from the man that unabashedly and unapologetically pursued me for months. Who told me, my neighbors and everyone he worked with that we would be getting married. Who took me to look at houses, who talked about ring shopping with me and who planned our future lives together. He had insisted he was for real. He insisted he was in it for the long haul. He insisted he was going to take care of me when he stopped me from getting a job and an apartment. Once I was pregnant, it was a whole other story. He began to press me to give up the baby. He told me I was selfish and that what I was doing was the sickest thing he had ever witnessed. He told people he worked with we only casually dated and he didn't really know me that well. He told me I owed him 1,100 for the apartment, an apartment he had offered to put me up in since he cost me the free one. He complained about his finances and said he couldn't pay any more child support and still live a normal life, so I offered to come up with a fair amount between the two of us. He told me that not only was he not going to pay me a dime but that I would owe him because he was going to sue me for getting pregnant. I found out he was seeing other girls and had been the whole time and lying about who they were. Later, when I offered to inform his parents of the time and place when I had the baby so members of his family could come see her if they so desired, he told me his family wanted nothing to do with me. That he had explained to them that I had gotten pregnant on purpose and they supported him in his decision to have nothing to do with us what-so-ever. I remember that particular conversation vividly because it took place in front of a highway patrol officer who was giving me a ticket for speeding but tore it up because I was 8 months along and bawling so hard I couldn't breathe.

Once I finally went into labor I had the most horrendous birthing experience ever. It is it's own blog post I swear to you. The highlight was when a nurse said to me, "In the next life it will be the men having the babies," and I burst out in the ugly cry. A second nurse was certain I was unable to bear the pain and came at me with a syringe. I literally had to karate chop it out of her hand. A shot of morphine was not in my birthing plan. After like 3 hours of natural-ish labor I had the baby and son of a gun if she didn't come out looking exactly like this Bozo. My sister who coached me through the birth called him to see if he could come to the hospital to sign the paternity document. He said his lawyer advised him not to sign anything, that he would be formally requesting DNA tests to determine if the baby was actually his, and that he would be calling me back in five minutes to discuss it because he was currently with his kids. So I laid there alone in a sterile beige hospital room, bleeding out the front door, watching something on TV without really seeing it, holding the phone on my newly deflated stomach for four and a half hours before I finally came to my senses, reached over and carefully set it back on the nightstand. And I'll be a monkey's uncle if her first word wasn't Dada.

I had a dream last night that I was handed a girl baby that was dead. And "they" said that the parents didn't want it any more because, yeah, for obvious reasons. I was so confused as to why they just handed it to me to deal with. But I took the baby and wondered what should be done with it's little corpse. I decided I should bury it, so I set it on the ground in loose dirt and began to cover it, starting at it's feet. After the second shovel of dirt blanketed the baby it suddenly opened it's eyes and looked at me. And somehow I knew that it knew what was going on. But it was struggling so much because it desperately wanted to live. I could feel it's deep desire to live. I decided to take it to the hospital. Once there, however, they wanted me to answer questions like, what was the baby's name and how old was the baby and what was wrong with it. I got super overwhelmed because I was just left with this thing, I didn't know the answers to any of these questions. And as I stood there I just began to drown in this horrible feeling. This anger that I felt at the child's parents for leaving me to solve their problems for them. The cowards. The horrible evil cowards that made me do their hard work for them because they couldn't get their hands dirty. Who was I to do this thing for them all by myself? The question I was formulating just before I woke up was, "Why me?"

So...do I? Do I want to be pregnant.

The Most Influential Man of My Childhood, Jim Henson.

2011-11-25T20:01:00.000-08:00

I saw The Muppet Movie in the theater. And I still remember the first thing I thought when I heard the opening banjo, I thought how much Kermit reminded me of my grandfather Paul. Simple, kind, silly, kinda corny but an all around good hearted creature. He also had really long legs. I was hundreds of miles away from my grandfather but I felt close when I watched The Muppet Show.

Today when we went to The Muppets I laughed and I cried from the first frame until the musical number at the end. Jason Segel was perfect. Pitch perfect. He was also one of the writers, which was a stroke of brilliance on whomever's part. For the last week as a family we have been on FAO.com using the Whatnot Creator which you can use here:

Today Mindy Gledhill's video for Winter Moon that I worked on came out. I got to do the Art Direction, so I was the one that made the twinkle trees and painted the banjo and made fake cakes and did Mindy's makeup. But I also got to puppeteer the snowman. So today, I watched The Muppets and then came home and watched a documentary On Demand about Jim Henson and then I also got to watch my first time ever as a puppeteer. And I cried like my daughter got married. And then I squeeled and clapped. And then I cried some more. But mostly squeeled. I told Brett that it was like I caught some sort of virus. A puppeteering virus. And he said it was OK. And I said, "Yeah, but I'm...40." And he said that it was never too late to find something you love to do. And this is why my husband is the coolest guy and the best husband in the entire universe. Because I told my husband I wanted to puppeteer and he said, "Cool".

So here it is...Winter Moon starring Mr. Snowman. And, oh yeah, Mindy Gledhill. ;)

Shooting Mindy Gledhill and Friends for Winter Moon.

2011-10-25T18:13:00.000-07:00

Sat was hilarious. If you haven't read my status yet, I am ditching Art and becoming a Puppeteer. OK not really but I certainly have found a new hobby. Hey, it's not for the weak, it was like doing yoga for 13 hours solid. Word.

Thanks go out to Jed Wells, Chris Clark, Mindy Gledhill and Nat Reed and his Constant Moon Puppet Co crew!

The Bitter Tooth.

2011-09-30T08:25:00.000-07:00

I went to one of those reconstructive dental places yesterday. And I was told the SAME thing I have heard 100,000 times before, which is that I am not alone in my odd dental situation but that there is nothing they can do. I was given the name of an oral surgeon which happened to be someone I have already seen and could "do nothing" so I have officially come full circle. I have baby teeth. And I have the grown up teeth that should be where the baby teeth are impacted in the roof of my mouth and it's been just an annoying thing until recently when the bone on bone action has been making my gums recede and now I can't eat ice cream. Yes, I wrote bone on bone action, let it go.

When I was a kid my sister had braces and retainers. I'm not incredibly sure why, with only 16 months difference between my sister and I, my parents didn't also take me in but it ended up being a fateful decision. My father then lost his dental insurance due to some kind of judgement call by a pencil pusher in the school district head office or whatever the school district calls their offices where they run things from. So I did not have dental insurance until I was in my 20's. And it was quite a surprise to hear I had baby teeth in my mouth. I thought those things kind of took care of themselves. I should have gotten braces then but in my 20's I was already supporting myself through college and the idea of taking on 5 grand in debt blew my mind. Then I got engaged and paid for my own ring, my wedding photos, my invitations, my reception and my apartment. I also was paying for my fiance because his folks didn't believe if they put him through school he should hold down a job. So I just had veneers put over my tiny eye teeth and went about my life. My mother at one point took me to the WORST hack dentist that gave me retainers that spread my teeth and I wore forever and never went anywhere. The same guy ended up pulling my wisdom teeth and didn't wait for the anesthesia to kick in and I screamed through the entire procedure. If I had been a stronger person I would have just gotten out of the chair and ran and then slapped him with a giant lawsuit. As it was I let him finish the procedure in hopes the meds would kick in any second. My mother could hear me screaming from the front and asked to come back and see me, instead of breaking down the door like I would have if my kid was SCREAMING. Later when she called to give them a piece of her mind they offered to cut our bill in half and she took it. I would have told them I wasn't paying them one red cent but there you see the difference in our parenting styles when she was my age.

SO I have lived with the veneers, which I had to replace once when I kept having issues with chewing, and I have them still today. All in all I have to have four teeth pulled and then the roof of my mouth opened up and the two grown teeth impacted in there removed, then bone grafted. I'd then have to wear a plate with fake teeth while the bone graft heals. Then they'd go in there and bolt four new fake teeth into the gaps. But once I have those four fake teeth they can't actually put braces on so even still, my teeth will not be STRAIGHT. All of this should cost just about 10 grand. So I live with my messed up grill and I intake my ice cream in the form of shakes and enter a bunch of online contests that offer free dental makeovers. And I sit and stew in my frustration and anger over everyone and their normal parents and their perfect teeth which is pretty much all day every day seeing as how I work in film in the state of Utah, land of white straight perfect teeth. I watched Soul Surfer last night, which by the way is the dumbest title for a film pretty much ever, and I'm looking at this girl who doesn't think she's beautiful because she has lost an arm and I'm like, "Yeah but seriously, her teeth are friggin perfect."

An Email to an Old Friend

2011-09-28T21:12:00.000-07:00

I would say I'm a liberal. I don't believe in corporal punishment anymore because if the state of Texas can posthumously exonerate 17 executed men via DNA evidence, that is all I need to know about that. I believe in Gay marriage because we have our temple, we get married there, so why not let them do their thing?? (That's rhetorical.) I believe women have the right to abort a baby safely if it's life threatening or in the case of rape and incest preferably if it's very VERY early term (morning after pill is the best option IMO in these abhorrent scenarios.) I do constantly think and re-think my opinions and I have a hard time saying, "This is what I believe in" and putting an eternal stamp on it because I'm willing to be wrong and I'm open to changing my mind, like I did about the death penalty, which I used to be hugely in favor of after I studied criminology.

The one thing I do believe in is the importance of the government's welfare system and ORS. And recently when a friend respectfully commented in the contrary to something political I posted on Facebook I did take time to think about what he posted, because he made good points, points I had often pondered about myself. But here is what I wrote in the email I sent to him after. It wasn't a smack-down and it wasn't an IN YOUR FACE DUDE retort so if you're looking for that crap, go to YouTube and look at the comments on cat videos. I'm just posting it to be posting it. Here it is, almost in it's entirety:

I know this isn't going to change your views or anything, I'm just hoping to explain why I believe so strongly what I do and lend a little "liberal" perspective. For me this debate is highly personal because during my first pregnancy I was cheated on. Oh no, wait, it gets worse. The second man who knocked me up left me *because* I got pregnant. The world is getting worse and grown people are not taking care of their own anymore, they are more interested in money, status and playing around. I was pregnant and homeless with a 4 year old and one baby daddy who wouldn't pay ANY child support. I needed ORS to go after BD #2 on my behalf because when I went to him to negotiate support he said not only would he not pay, he was suing ME for getting pregnant. True story.

The reason I tell you this is because for every crack addict who abuses welfare or subsidized daycare or whatever, there is a decent person who NEEDS it to survive a massive unforeseen personal catastrophe.

My family believed I should learn to stand on my own two feet, never mind there were actually 6 feet standing in my shoes, and my church actually said no to assisting me financially. My bishop told me to get a cheaper apt. (I was already splitting the rent.) He also told me I should instead pay them, in the form of tithing, which was hard to hear, but I'm grateful because that happens to be a true principal that changed my life...

People at facilities thought because I "looked" capable/middle class and seemed fine mentally I didn't need their help, so I was last priority. But it was the government that helped me, without condition, to get free DNA testing done in order to force him to pay child support and to get back support in order to feed my kids. I also received a daycare subsidy while I worked three jobs before support kicked in. If I had to do it all over again, I would have quit, accepted more assistance and stayed home with my baby. I have worked and paid taxes since I was 14, I earned that help. The government was there for me when no one else was and it made me fiercely loyal. I had case workers that became a great source of support. It HAS to be the government that meters out this kind of massive, wide spread, unconditional assistance. I don't think, I KNOW, others won't always be there for you like you think they will.

I would also like to state that one person did step up and help me, and that was my ex step-sister Amanda, who not only was there for me during the pregnancy but after and even watched my baby for me while I worked, even though she struggled with the pain of chronic ear infections that kept her from being able to do the job she loved. She is what being Christian looks like. She cheerfully went about helping me through the single worst time of my life by reading scriptures with me and praying with me and holding my knees while I had contractions. No judgements, just love in action. She deserves all the miracles that have happened for her, I'm happy to know her. But since we aren't all blessed with a team of Amanda's at our disposal (everyone should be so lucky) I believe strongly in Government assistance for the needy. I believe in Welfare. I believe in ORS. This is what I believe in, *eternal stamp.

Reality Doesn't Bite as Much as Delusion.

2011-09-18T16:19:00.000-07:00

The 90's have been everywhere for a while but I wasn't in the full throws of 90's nostalgia until yesterday. First, I heard Smells Like Teen Spirit on the radio driving to the State Fair. I found myself gripping the steering wheel and recalling with perfect clarity a night out dancing with Amy and Liz when that song exploded over the speakers at the Ivy Tower and the place just blew up. Secondly, on the way home my iPod played August and Everything After by Counting Crows and I pictured the Sundance Party I was at with Adam Duritz, Darren Aronofsky, Sean Gullette and I swear Paul Rudd but it may have been Jack Plotnick, memory is a tricky thing. I shouldn't have "gone there" though because that party brought back with it the memory that after many dirty martinis David and I "Night at the Roxberry-ed" Sean Gullette while Darren Aronofsky watched on from the balcony in between fits of laughter. Once home I put the kids down and Google Imaged "The 90's". That's where it kicked me in the rear end like a really obvious combat boot simile, I had to watch Reality Bites.

This movie was the impetuous for a lot of things for me when it came out. But me being in my early 20's and stupid it wasn't the impetuous for what it should have been, namely me trying to become like Winona's character in the right ways, say by studying film and becoming class valedictorian. I wish it had. Instead it inspired me in all the wrong, superficial ways. I already had the divorced parents and the wardrobe but I didn't smoke, have a messy short hair cut and a best-friend turned boyfriend. I set about remedying all of that. Being too egotistical to accept that in reality I needed a much more feminine face to carry off a short hair cut and that it takes a lot of hair styling talent and money to produce perfectly messy results I ended up with a bad $20.00 cut from a Hair School Sophomore. Then I tried to kiss my best friend. You can read about that HERE. I had never entertained the idea before, I knew there was a line in the sand, I also knew if he found me even remotely attractive he would have cared to try something. But he was going with friends to see the film, and I felt that if he were going, he needed to be thinking about me.

I spent the 90's much of this way. Working retail, wishing I was anything and anyone other than what I was. I wanted to be Winona, I wanted to be the amazingly cool redheaded window dresser we had that came into the store once a month or so, I wanted to be my Manager at JMR. I wanted to be like everyone else, but not me. I wanted to be amazing and beautiful and I wanted attention and I wanted to be the center of the universe. And everything I did was some kind of attempt at attention, at soothing my broken heart, my broken soul, my enormous friggin ego. It was all about me me me. The best part is that every single solitary time I tried to elevate myself I crashed and burned incredibly hard. Back then, I was confused about how to get what I wanted. I thought I could make things happen just because I wished them to come to be. But the things I wished to exist were not based in reality. They were based in delusion.

It occurred to me a couple of weeks ago that I was really happy. I don't know if in my lifetime I have ever had a moment when I thought I was really happy. But in the car driving to Ikea with Brett and BR I had the realization that we had a fun house we were decorating and I loved my job and the kids were growing up and becoming super funny/ great people and I was just really happy and blessed. The difference between then and now is 100% ego. The reason why I did any of the things I did back then was ego. It was about creating something, yes, I was trying to create my reality, but I was using delusion to do it. I was doing what my Step-Mom called "Futurizing". I would imagine in my mind a future day when my hair looked like X and my boyfriend was Y and it would = Happy. I thought I could Art Direct my life, but reality isn't a film you can Art Direct into awesomeness.

My mom says that in all of us there is a God shaped void. And people try and put sex, drugs, rock 'n' roll, food, alcohol, what have you inside of it and are confused when the results don't turn out. That was the entire 90's for me. I was taking Winona and putting her into the God shaped hole in my heart. That may be the weirdest sentence I've ever written but there it is, and I think you know what I mean by it. If you don't, I don't know what to say to you. Have you SEEN her in that movie?

The $200.00 Diet Dr Pepper.

2011-09-16T20:49:00.000-07:00

I told the girls at lunch today about breaking my phone. Right now I'm not able to call out on my phone but I am able to accept incoming calls, which of course begged the question, "How did that weirdness happen?" And to answer I had two choices...sip my drink and shrug my shoulders and look away and point at something outside...or I could tell the truth. I told the truth. The truth is that I went to Target with a fever because I wanted Missoni so badly.

Carina texted and told me that there were still a few little girl's items left. But that I had to hurry because all the Missoni was flying off the shelves. Now, it had taken me five hours to wake up, get out of bed and onto the couch where I received this text. I got the kids off to school, then went back to bed until after one. One week of little to no sleep every night and 18 hour days of hard physical labor and shooting and oddly, my body kind of gave out. This is the relationship I have with my body, I expect it to do what I want, when I want it to, Hashi's or no Hashi's. I have little sympathy I'm rocking a disease. I also think I should be able to eat and drink what I want and it should have no bearing on whether or not my body performs. In fact, I'm sort of bewildered still when I can't make it function on no sleep and maybe a grape for breakfast. In short, I am my own Russian gymnastics coach.

Five hours it took me to get to the couch and four minutes to get dressed and into my car when I read the words, "Missoni" and "Target" in the same text. I drove over there with the air conditioning cranked and cash already in my planner. I grabbed a sick amount of stuff with the idea that I should let Boo try stuff on and tell me which ones she liked. "She can't keep it all," I told myself, "So I'll let her choose her favorites. But I'll have to buy it all first because if I don't, it will all be gone." You see how my fever mind is working...

So I pack the cart, but in my defense, I did put back two pairs of shoes (for me), mugs, and one pair of galoshes for B so my total could have been so, so much worse than it was. I head to the register and I decide, fatefully, to buy a Diet Dr Pepper. I hadn't eaten yet that day and I felt light headed, but I was also wearing skin that was intentionally overheating to kill off foreign entities that it deemed dangerous to my person. I am basically the temperature of convenience store cocoa. I may have even had pit circles...I don't know. On the drive home I get a call from my kids who are just walking in the door and wondering where I am. I let them know I am three blocks from home. I feel awful though, from being sick, yes, but also because even if my kids beat me home by just three measly minutes I feel like the worst mother in the world. Never mind they know to lock the doors and that my oldest is four years older than I was when I babysat a family of four boys every day after school. I grabbed my bags and ran inside the house, but not before I threw the Diet DP into my purse to bring it into the house because my hands were full of friggin MISSONI BAGS. I put my purse down on the floor and gave the Missoni over the the girl who loved everything and of course gets to keep everything. I walked past my bag after showing everything to the girl and said out loud, "Why is my purse in a puddle on the floor... MY PURSE IS IN A PUDDLE ON THE FLOOR!" The DP had tipped on it's side, and I had not tightened the lid.

When I showed my phone to the guy at the Apple store (after primping my sorry old lady self up in a sad attempt to garner male favor) he opened it up and said that all four of the red sensors at the openings that tell them if a phone has been wet were tripped and showed me the condensation still on the inside of the plastic. He handed me back my phone and not only told me there was nothing he could do but tried to sell me on a new computer and some classes. Sadly, I don't still "got it". I bet if I had a half-hawk and good teeth I'd have a new phone right now.

The moral of this story is...I don't have a clue. Don't go shopping with a fever? Make sure you turn your drink lid one extra twist before putting it in your purse? Wait, maybe it's before you buy a soda, ask yourself, is this Dr Pepper worth the contents of my purse and a humiliating trip to the Apple store? Cause sometimes, you know, the answer would still be yes.

What It Looked Like.

2011-07-20T10:01:00.000-07:00

I was married once before. It's true. I never talk about it. Some of my best friends don't even know anything about it. My ex-husband recently found me on FB and I have been thinking a lot about our marriage since then. I usually try not to. I was 21. I didn't know my own mind, I was sad and terribly heartbroken. I was "inactive" in my church, I had no support system, no job, no money, no Kurt Cobain. I was trying to stop drinking and I was trying to leave my party friends. I was in an apartment near BYU and so I started walking to Annie's Video and renting 3-4 videos a day in an attempt to not drink or see my friends. I decided that I was broken and I would never be in love again, that I should just find someone who could accept me, someone I could be friends with, and I should settle down. Yes, that must be the answer to all of my problems. I should get married.

He was a friend of my roommates. And we had fun together. We'd play tennis and he got my weird humor. We were good at partnering up and taking care of each other's problems, which mostly seemed to be getting by financially. He said we had to be married in the temple, which I didn't really want but I went along with. I was off the church at the time because of a few factors. First, when I was 18, exactly 20 years ago, I had been in a serious physical relationship with a young man we'll call "Bill". He was funny and affectionate and sincere and adored me and Bill was a return missionary. Now, I had not been raised in the church, and I had activated myself when I was a teenager. I had a strong testimony of the Book of Mormon, which I had read many times, but I didn't know doctrine. I knew nothing about the Temple either. I just knew that Bill had been through it before and that it was somehow more serious for him to mess up. So we tried not to. But have you all seen The Notebook? Read Twilight? Daniele Steele? I actually had that. In real life. For one year. And then Bill left me for another girl he felt impressed to marry and I was devastated. I never wanted to take another breath ever again. I laid in the fetal position and cried for three days. To make matters worse, he got remarried in the Temple before I was even allowed to take the Sacrament. You read that right. Most people said, "Oh, he must have lied to his church leaders." He didn't. They let him. Even though he had made temple covenants and I wasn't even raised in the church and I activated my own self. Now, for some reason, from then on, every ward I moved into the Bishop would ask to meet with me. And in 100% of those meetings they would say, "So tell me about this young man." And I was like, "WTH, do these dudes have a friggin FILE with this stuff in it??" And why isn't this just going away for me like it went away for Bill. I bet he doesn't still have anyone asking HIM questions about what happened. It felt humiliating and it felt unfair and it made me feel like it was all my fault. Like somehow I was the one that was designated to pay for that situation and he was given a free pass. It felt like the message was that men can just move on without consequence. And this made me SOOO angry. And I thought I was no longer the kind of girl that anyone that I would really want would really want. And this made me feel hopeless. And none of these sweet caring Bishops knew what to say to me in any small way. And it went on like this for years.

Second factor, My mother was in a homosexual relationship. Which was a trendy concept in the 90s but only if you were in your 20s and on the CW. I had supportive people, confused people, consoling people, angry people, and condescending people come up to me and tell me how I should handle the situation. The more I tried to figure out what to do, the more confused I got. I knew this woman, I knew she was not gay. The relationship happened because Helen said she loved my mom, and my mom loved people to love her. I knew I should just wait it out until it was over. And I knew it would be over. But something about it just broke my spirit. Knowing that whatever it was that made other people's parents understand the importance of being respectable and normal and having boundaries and standards, my parents would never have that. I was mourning the childhood I never had, the parent I would never have and the man I would never have. Who would want to marry someone like me, with a family like mine? And for all of these reasons I began drinking a large amount of alcohol at frequent intervals.

So you can see why I was happy to find a nice boy who wanted to marry me. We got engaged in a comedy of errors kind of way and then we began weekly meetings with our Bishop, because it's what I did professionally at that point, meet with Bishops, and he tells us we have one-on-ones with the Stake President before we can get married. Sigh. But I decided to go through with it even though I was frustrated with the entire process. I walk in and the S.P. says to me, (all together now), "Tell me about this young man, Bill." My jaw hit the floor. I explained my story to him and then, he did what no one else did. He pulled out a notebook, asked me where Bill was and asked for his information. I asked him why he wanted to know. He said he wanted to find out what had happened with Bill's Bishop to erroneously allow him to be married in the Temple when he was clearly not worthy. Now I was really confused. I mean, it was over, Bill was married. What were they going to do? Pull him into meetings with his current Bishop and make him answer for it all these years later? Were they gonna put him through Church Court because of me, if I "turn him in"? Is that even what he is asking me to do? I secretly kinda wanna turn him in but I can see this will just not do, to be vindictive about this. I tell him I don't know where Bill is or how to begin to find him, which was true. I am laughing out of nervousness and also the absurdity of it all and because I am becoming super duper uncomfortable. And the man then tells me to my face that I am clearly "...too immature to get married". And he won't sign the recommend. He says we have to wait six months. I have family members flying in from out of the state. They already have their tickets. I leave even more apathetic towards the church than ever before.

I try and talk my future spouse into not getting married in the temple. He says his little brothers and sisters will be looking up to him and he can't get married anywhere else. Fine. My bishop hears about what the Stake President said and he is mad. He doesn't agree with him at all so he calls him to tell him he thinks he's making a mistake and they GET IN A FIGHT. So here is my last straw testimony breaker right here...why would two men, with this kind of stewardship over me, disagree over something they both receive revelation over? Why would they both get two different answers about something as huge as my future? I thought that if the spirit was real, they both should have gotten the same answer.

Part of coming back into the church required me reconciling the things that happened during this time of my life. And one day after prayer it just downloaded into my head that I kept being asked about "that guy" because God wanted me to come back. I wasn't being hounded because it was all my fault, I was being hounded so I could repent fully for the situation and get it off my back because it was ruining my life. I made about 100,000 bad decisions as a result of this one bad relationship, where he was able to turn around and marry the right girl and move on with no long term consequence, other than the guilt and the weighty conscience that I hoped that he had. I still hope he had. It just didn't effect him long term the way it effected me. And only God would know that. About Bishop v. Stake President, after 15 years I can see that they both were right. The wedding should have been called off, we should never have gotten married, neither of us were ready, and I certainly didn't love him the way I should have. (Sorry Dev.) But my Bishop knew the Stake President didn't handle it right and he could feel we weren't being supported and helped in the right way. And my Stake Pres. was right that it was wrong but he was wrong about why it wasn't right. Well maybe he was a little right, I was pretty immature. In the end this actually built up my testimony. I was trying to be inactive, trying my darnedest, and God was calling me in and making me talk about my problems because he didn't want to let me go. Gods a pretty cool guy.

Two Short Stories That May Just Change Your Life.

2011-06-26T13:47:00.000-07:00

Today a gentleman stood up and told two stories. To me, these stories are the crystallization of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Whether the people in the second story were Christian or not, I do not know, but they certainly acted as if they were the very definition.

In the first story, a farmer, we'll call him Dale, noticed an issue with his irrigation. The water began to wane in one area. So he checked it out and found that a neighbor, a fellow crop farmer, had dammed up the irrigation ditch and was usurping the water. So Dale took out a shovel and went with his boys to the area of the blockage and began to dig it out, so the water would return to his land. The man who had created the dam was so angry he actually took out an axe and went after Dale, who used his shovel to staunchly defend his right to the water. The altercation ended with incredibly bad feelings. The man who had dammed the water began to openly hate Dale's family. It came time to harvest. And Dale loaded up his kids in the truck to go to work harvesting his lands. But as he drove along, he took an unexpected turn into the other neighbor's property. The children thought he had lost his mind. But he explained that he had heard that the man was sick, too sick to harvest his own fruit, and he knew it had to be done immediately. So the man and his children, before even harvesting a single bit from their own farm, went and worked one full day for this man and placed the produce carefully at the back porch. One of the children remembered keeping one eye on their work, and one eye on the back door in case he came out with the axe again. The man was so grateful at the end of it all that he told Dale how sorry he was and at Dale's funeral years later he said how much of an example Dale had been and that he had become his best friend.

The second story was about a man who had a bad year of auto accidents, and to make matters worse, they kept happening in other people's cars. He knew he had a jack and a spare, etc. in his own car, but in other people's cars you are the mercy of their idea of preparedness and they seemed to always be lacking. So this particular year that he kept having issues he noticed that no one in America stops to help a fellow traveler in trouble anymore. Whether it's because we are all wary about safety or in too big of a hurry, whatever the reason, the only people that kept coming to his aid were immigrant workers. One time he was in a friend's Jeep and got a flat but didn't have the tools, only a spare. And again, no one would stop. So he put out a sign, NEED JACK, WILL PAY $$. Shortly after, a group of immigrant workers from Mexico stopped to help. It was a family. The father got out and came over with his English speaking daughter to help translate. They were here in America to pick produce for two weeks before returning home. So they got out their jack but the Jeep was too high and so they actually found some wood and cut it down to act as a brace for the jack. Now I personally have never heard of this but I guess he had a folding tire iron and the thing broke. The head came clean off. But the man explained to his wife in Spanish what he needed and sent her away in the van and she returned with a different iron and the men went back to work. It must have been something of a feat because to hear the way the speaker told it the men were muddy sweaty, smelly, messes by the end of it all. But the family had a jug of water and so the men were able to clean themselves up after and refresh themselves. The traveler tried to give this family money but the man wouldn't take it. So he went over to the mother and snuck a 20 dollar bill to her as quietly as he could. As he was getting back into his Jeep the daughter asked if the man had eaten yet. He said no, and was in fact starving after all of this time and effort. The girl handed out the window a tamale wrapped up in tin foil. The traveler took it back to his friend's Jeep and opened it up, and there inside with the tamale was the 20 dollars. He glanced back at the van but the father just looked at him and shook his head. The traveler tried one more time to give it to him, because this man had not only stopped to helped him but had surely lost a day's wages to do so and then ended up having to spent his own money on a new jack. The man just said, with a lot of effort, "Today...you. Tomorrow...me."

There I go again, I'm totally crying. I love this story. These people were probably as poor as people can possibly get and yet they gave their time, their money, their hard work, their food and their love to a total stranger. Because they were humble and good. I believe in God. I believe that if these people keep going around being amazing like this, then yes...today that traveler but tomorrow...them. I learned from a kind Bishop of mine while I was a broke single mom that if I gave, I would actually receive and he was absolutely correct. Jesus knew what he was talking about, you will receive. This is the gospel and it works. Amen.
Amen? Ok sure why not...Amen.

Judging Amy.

2011-04-20T17:31:00.000-07:00

I am a judgmental person. Rather, I have become one. I have travelled so far in the polar opposite direction from the liberal way I was raised that I may in fact circle around a full 360 and find myself back in some free love, no rules, flexible morality kind of space, judging no one. I'm not sure, where I'm going is uncharted.

I was raised not to judge anyone. Which is good. I was raised that there was no right or wrong. Which is bad. I was also taught there was no good or bad which is also bad. According to my upbringing, using those kinds of words would be "labeling" and is a part of judging which is only for stupid and closed-minded people. Now, these free-thinking concepts are only effective things to tell yourself and others if what you are seeking is license to do whatever you want no matter what. Say, for example, you want to go out and sleep with a whole bunch of people. You do not want to suffer the consequences of this action, i.e. people thinking you are a horrible mother and a slut. Or even YOU thinking you are a horrible mother or a slut. You will then need to tell yourself that by sleeping with a whole bunch of people you were not doing anything "bad" or "wrong", you were in fact "learning about your sexuality" because human reproduction is healthy and good and it wasn't wrong of you, it was just a part of your journey and was essential to your learning process. Never mind all of the people that were hurt or how many families were destroyed as a consequence of these actions because if people think that what you are doing is bad, they are being "judgmental" and need to find your "positive intent".

Because I never judged people, especially those people in my own family, I allowed them to treat me horribly. I was told that I could control my reactions to everyone and everything around me. If someone acted horribly to me, instead of calling them out to change their behavior, I just needed to look at their "positive intent" and possibly also, go to my "great good place". Everyone's actions had a positive intent, we just had to look hard enough. Sometimes I had to look really, really hard. This meant I was asked to look at things one might realistically label as sad or bad and I was to tell myself they were not bad or sad but actually good and acceptable instead. If someone like my older sister took my head and slammed it into the bathtub tile surround for taking a bath when she wanted to, I only simply need go to my great good place in order to see her positive intent and I would no longer be angry and I would find love for her. I would close my eyes and soon I could imagine that her positive intent was to toughen up my head. Armed with this knowledge I no longer wanted my sister to die slowly at my own hand, but to keep on showing me the mysteries of her many complex actions. So now, because everyone in our family, nay the world, had a positive intent and no one was ever wrong or bad, no one ever need suffer any consequences or punishment for their actions. In our household especially, never at any time, no matter how bad the offense might possibly have been, was anyone actually ever punished. No one even brought up in casual conversation the amount of times I had my butt handed to me with a bow on it by my big sister. I guess her positive intent was for me to really become familiar with where my pain threshold is. If you're wondering, it's somewhere around my External Occipital Protuberance.

In regards to relationships it should come as no surprise to read that I did not employ any powers of perception whatsoever in choosing a mate. I met someone, I saw a whole handfull of positive intent in everything they did and so I loved them dearly for handing me my hindquarters. Wasn't that thoughtful of them? I was wondering where my hindquarters had gone. Oh? It's right there? Thank you. Thank you so much. I love you. Don't leave me.

Somewhere in the middle of a Christmas party in 2005 I came to my senses. Bio dad had left me the year before. He left me pregnant with no explanation. He had gone from, "I love you more than you will ever know and I want to be with the one I love forever" to "we only casually dated" to "I'm suing you for getting pregnant". He could only have handled the situation worse if he had shot the lot of us. After a year of hell for me and and a three day coma for him (long story) he came to his senses and wanted to apologize for how he handled things. And he wanted to re-handle those things. My things. After a year in the church and my full temple worthiness re-instated, it just wasn't happening. But we were maintaining a "friendship". So here is where we find ourselves and it's December. And he's going to a Christmas party and I've just been invited to the same one and isn't that a coinkiedink. And so I get spiffied up in a YSL knockoff black velvet suit, straighten my hair and show up. And it was like I walked into a Rock of Love audition. The girls...the girls. But I musn't judge, I tell myself. But are you serious, ladies? The lip liner...and the eyebrows... And then he shows up. And these girls squeal his name like it's 7th grade, and then tip toe trot themselves over to the man for optimal chest bounce-age and then rub their Spalding's up against his Lucky Brand button down. And it clicks for me. He is that guy. He is probably hiding a roll of fifty ones in his back pocket encircled with a red rubber band. He is "hangs with strippers" guy. If he had an indian name it would probably be "Hangs with Strippers". And I flash back in my head. Yep, all the signs were there. How did I miss them? Sure, he tried to be something he wasn't for my benefit. Sure he dressed differently for me and acted differently for me. But there is no way for someone to really hide their whole true self. Unless they're a serial killer. I had signs and red flags and towards the end there was even a huge bat signal or two. But now...now I was getting a hand typed, double spaced personalized letter reading, "Dear Amelia, I like slutty, ugly, tarty girls with big boobs who drink to excess and do things with guys they barely know." It was being tapped out on my head in Morse Code. "- - - . . . - - . . - - . . .- - . . .- . - . -. . -- ...-.......-- ..-" *

*He's that guy.

I had stepped over the line and I was now in judgmental country.

My first thought was, "You are that guy??" My second was, "How did you ever find ME attractive EVER if what you wanted all along is what she's got going on over there and up there and BACK THERE?!?" And my third one was, "I'm outtie." I left that party after having judged those girls and having judged my ex and having judged the situation and you know what? It felt great. And I've been doing it ever since. People sometimes ask me if having come from the kind of past I come from makes it easy to not judge people for their actions and I have to say the answer is no. You know those bitter, tight lipped angry women? You know how they all have a secret past and then become unmoving and rigid? It starts like this. I make judgment calls all day every day and you know what? I can't stop. The more I strive to live my life with standards the easier it is to see when people don't have any. And the easier it is to judge whether or not I want to have anything to do with those people. And I usually choose not to. Because they hurt you, those people. And it's safer to make the judgment call and protect yourself and your kids right from the git go. It's OK to judge what's bad and wrong. Sometimes people can be bad and wrong. Even if they may have a super-duper really great good positive intent.

"By their fruits you shall know them." Matthew 7:16.

Hallelujah Indeed.

2011-03-24T11:33:00.000-07:00

If you have not seen this kid yet, hold onto your hat. Or something nailed down.

I Give.

2011-03-05T22:12:00.000-08:00

As in "up". I give up. We put the "For Sale by Owner" sign in the front lawn so the house is officially up for sale. It's a lovely 5 bedroom 3 bath fixer-upper in the tony Edgemont area of Provo. Many people are asking many questions so I figured a blog post was in order. Think of this as a, "Wait, the Merritt's are selling their house? FAQ"

1. Where are the Merritt's moving off to?

We have no idea where we are going. I have found a great house in Orem that I love more than anything but I know what the odds are that we will be able to sell this house and move into it. We are going to take a bath on this house. So that means we will have to make do for a few years while we dig out of a huge financial hole. Once we do and save some money for a down payment we will probably find a house. This is what I am calling my Reasonable Expectations Scenario. I do have faith that God will be able to work a miracle I can not foresee and so, who knows what will happen. I am keeping the faith that a miracle can occur but I am also keeping my expectations at a realistic level. I'm fasting and praying but I'm also staying rational.

2. Do The Merritt's want to stay in the 4th Ward boundaries?

We have loved being in this ward and this area. We'd love to stay. If we were to fall in love with a house that was perfect in every way and would still allow us to stay in the area...MIRACLE. At this point I'd settle for a darling little house in Utah County that we love and is finished prettily and we can afford and can possibly rent to own. This of course is IF by some miracle we are able to sell our house for what we owe so we don't have to move into an apartment for a few years. It really boils down to the house. You see, we bought this big house with the expectation that I would be well. More like, the assumption. We were going to have more kids. I was going to fix up this house. That was the plan. Now neither is feasible. I may get sicker as many people with Hashi's do. We need at least a 4 bedroom house with a bedroom, kitchen, bathroom and laundry on the main level and next to no yard work because my disease can sometimes spawn other worse diseases, things like:

Vitiligo — a disease that destroys the cells that give your skin its color
Rheumatoid arthritis — a disease that affects the lining of the joints throughout the body
Addison’s disease — a disease that affects the adrenal glands, which make hormones that help your body respond to stress and regulate your blood pressure and water and salt balance
Type 1 diabetes — a disease that causes blood sugar levels to be too high
Graves’ disease — a disease that causes the thyroid to make too much thyroid hormone
Pernicious anemia — a disease that keeps your body from absorbing vitamin B12 and making enough healthy red blood cells
Lupus — a disease that can damage many parts of the body, such as the joints, skin, blood vessels, and other organs.

So if it ever gets to that point, or heaven forbid morphs into Hashimotos Encephalopathy or even Lymphoma of the Thyroid, then I am not going to be dragging myself up flights of stairs all day. Bye-bye split level. I never liked you anyways.

3 Why are The Merritt's moving now...why can't The Merritt's wait until the market swings around? (Or in the sentiments of some acquaintances and my father the coach, why can't The Merritt's just keep working on it one project at a time. Take it in bite sized chunks...)

Get bent. Or go get sick and then see how well you like being told to "just do" something. Just "take my time and do one little project every month" until it's done? Just go stick your head in the toilet you dirty "just-er". Seriously, this makes me insane. So I'm to be a wife and mother and work 18 hour days and serve the church and God and be a good friend and neighbor and do my Visiting Teaching and see the doctors and pay my medical bills and then, on my RARE days off, I'm to tile a bathroom when I have no idea how to tile a bathroom? When do I get to spend time dealing with:

Fatigue
Weight gain
Pale, puffy face
Feeling cold
Intolerance to hot and cold temperatures
Joint and muscle pain
Constipation
Dry, thinning hair
Heavy menstrual flow or irregular periods
Depression
A slowed heart rate
Problems getting pregnant

I guess I am "just" to take all of the above in bite sized chunks, too. Oh, yeah, I can't. I don't control my disease.

We bought a house. And I worked really hard on it. And now I have to walk away from it. And I don't know where we are going and I don't know how this will turn out. I have a disease. I have an incurable disease. And I might not "look sick" to you and you may never notice it but the people I live with do. And the people I work with do and they thankfully keep hiring me. And I manage to plug along in my calling. But Brett and the kids take to finishing my sentences for me and I will probably not ever have another child of my own. And it's by the grace of God and my own stubborn Germanness that I am able to finish 6 days of 12+ hours of shooting without falling apart let alone everything else. It's too much. And I know it and my family knows it and my friends know it and now all of you know it and I believe that God knows it, too. And I believe he will take care of me. Because he doesn't want me to come home to a house that makes me cry before I even get out of my car, just thinking about what an albatross it is.

So if you know how to drywall and want a house in Edgemont...leave your name and number. You are the answer to my prayers.

Something for Everyone.

2011-02-03T10:40:00.000-08:00

Problogger had this article called 29 Ways to Keep Me Coming Back to Your Blog. In an attempt to inspire "me" and by that I mean "you" to keep coming back to my blog I will now do the impossible. I will accomplish all 29.

1.Teach me how to do something.

2. Entertain me.

3. Stimulate me to think.

Dentists have recommended that a toothbrush be kept at least 6 feet away from a toilet to avoid airborne particles resulting from the flush.

4. Tell me a story.

Some time ago, a man punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became infuriated when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree. The little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy." The man was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found out the box empty. He yelled at her, stating, "Don't you know, when you give someone a present, there is supposed to be something inside? The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and cried, "Oh, Daddy, it's not empty at all. I blew kisses into the box. They're all for you, Daddy."

5. Present me with some interesting research results.

American Airlines saved $40,000 in 1987 by eliminating 1 olive from each salad served in first-class.

1 in every 4 Americans have been on TV.

6. Make me laugh.

A man and a friend are playing golf one day at their local golf course. One of the guys is about to chip onto the green when he sees a long funeral procession on the road next to the course. He stops in mid-swing, takes off his golf cap, closes his eyes, and bows down in prayer.

His friend says: “Wow, that is the most thoughtful and touching thing I have ever seen. You truly are a kind man.”

The man then replies: “Yeah, well we were married 35 years.”

7. Review a product or service to help me make a decision.

I like my Dyson vacuum and it does a good job on Pug hair and Costco has them for a good price.

8. Tell me why and how something applies to me.

#7 applies to you because it's true and eventually everyone needs a new Vacuum.

9. Show me a case study of something you’ve (or someone else has) done.

Co Author: Jeffri C. Bohlscheid
School of Food Science
University of Idaho
jeffb@uidaho.edu

Co Author: Frank J. Dinan
Department of Chemistry & Biochemistry
Canisius College
dinan@canisius.edu

Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD) has claimed approximately one-third of the commercial honeybee population in recent years. A number of causes have been suggested for this phenomenon, including the consumption of high fructose corn syrup (HFCS) by the bees. This directed case investigates the issues and chemistry that might be involved in CCD related to HFCS. The case was developed for use in an undergraduate organic chemistry or food chemistry course.

10.Make me feel like I’m not the only one who….

I have no idea what I'm doing as a parent. None. I think the stuff I try out works about 35% of the time. I mostly just hang out with my kids and try and keep them from eating poisonous stuff.

11. Predict what will happen next.

Someone will try and kill that Mubarak guy.

12. Collate what other people say about….

Communal. Go there. It's fantastic.

13. Inspire me.

"I believe life is to be lived, not worked, enjoyed, not agonized, loved, not hated."
Leland Bartlett

14. Give me a project to go away and do.

15. Give me a sense of belonging.

16. Explain what something means.

dougie

The term "dougie" derives from the name of 80's early 90's Hip Hopper Doug-E- Fresh. The term "dougie" means to have a cool or hip stlye.
"If we are going to go out tonight I need to go home and get dougie before we go."

fresh clean attractive style cool swagga; the way you carry yourself
also a dance

"Giiiiirl, his dougie is fresh."

17. Summarize a topic or issue.

In Cairo, Egypt, the people are revolting against the dictator Hosni Mubarak who has been running Egypt for the past thirty years. The idea of uprising began in Tunisia when people started planning a revolution through social media like Twitter and Facebook. Hosni Mubarak then proceeded to shut down not just cell phone service but all Internet connection in Egypt so they lost contact with the rest of the world until Wednesday, when it was turned back on. For the last year Egyptians have been unhappy due to poverty, low employment, increased food prices. The people of Egypt are now rebelling against the Government for not meeting their basic needs. Many protesters are being killed, some by Mubarak supporters who are shooting into the crowds of people who have ensconced themselves and will not leave until Mubarak steps down. As of February 2, 2011, Hosni Mubarak announced that he will not be running for a new term in the September elections, but he would like to finish his remaining term which will last another seven months. The people of Egypt want him to step down immediately.

18. Intrigue me.

19. Introduce me to someone of interest.

http://bmerritt.tumblr.com/

20.Tell me your opinion.

I think someone should shoot this Mubarak guy.

21. Link to something that I need to see or read.

http://video.nytimes.com/video/2011/01/21/style/1248069580659/on-the-street-a-stretch-of-leg.html

22. Share something I can relate to.

I find boogers on my kids' bed sheets. I wrap them up like burritos and have to carefully unwrap them at wash time.

23. Provide me with a list of resources.

A List of Resources for Studying Benjamin Franklin:

"Ben Franklin Stilled The Waves" Charles Tanford, Duke University Press, Durham, North Carolina, and London, England, 1989.

"Benjamin Franklin: His Life As He Wrote It" Edited by Esmond Wright, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1989.

"Benjamin Franklin's Science" I. Bernard Cohen, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts, and London, England, 1990.

For Kids

"The Many Lives of Benjamin Franklin" Aliki, Simon and Schuster Books for Young Readers, New York, New York, 1988.

"What's The Big Idea, Ben Franklin?" Jean Fritz, Coward-McCann, New York, New York, 1976.

24. Stimulate me to enter into a dialogue or debate.

Hitler's mother considered an abortion. Did she make a mistake?

25. Give me a point of view that is different from the rest.

I am not anti-Gay marriage. I figure we have the blessings of Temple Marriage, so let them get married civilly and have their equal rights.

26. Encourage me to keep going through something I’m finding tough.

Isaiah 40:31
But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.

27. Keep me up to date with the latest news or developments in a field of interest.

28. Guide me through a process.

29. Solve a problem that I have.

You didn't think I could do it did you? See you real soon...new subscribers!

Breaking the Cycle: Day 2.

2011-01-20T10:58:00.001-08:00

Disclaimer: This is an insanely long post.

At the end of Day One my dear husband came to me and told me that our girl child was being totally defiant. This is her thing. As a toddler she would kick and hit and spit and bite and scratch and do the exact thing you just told her not to do. When she was 3ish we got a tub refinished and I took her into the bathroom and I showed it to her and said, "See, it's white now but it's a bad chemical and we must not touch it because it won't come off our hands. It's not like paint. Don't touch!" And I walked her out of the room and shut the door and she did an immediate 180 and put her hand on the tub. We ask her to do something and she whines or cries or throws a temper tantrum or all three. Since she is no longer a toddler and I'm pretty sure this kind of behavior should be a random occurrence and not a common occurrence, we worry. Some people say it's just girls or it's certain kids in general but it doesn't feel right to me. She also doesn't usually act that way in front of anyone but her parents.

Some things are making a difference already. I try and listen to her and repeat back what she says to me. Instead of going, "Uhhuh...uhhuh." I'm making eye contact and getting down on her level more when she talks. I'm praying really hard that I will know what they need, and give them that instead of what I think they need. I think they need what I needed. I needed clothes that fit and weren't old and dirty and had holes, I needed our heat and electricity and phone paid for. I needed my mother to be at events and not say inappropriate things when my friends were over. I needed her to not talk about sex all the time. I needed her to not flirt with neighborhood young adult males. I needed her to get off the phone with people that weren't her kids or husband and needed her to not work all the time if we weren't going to benefit as a family from her being gone. And I figured as a Mother if I wasn't doing any of these things, I was doing my job.

But I need some new ideas. So I called Jules and talked to her. Her father did some cute things with her that made her feel like she was special. He set up dates with her, to go and be with just her. They'd walk through the mall or go to the park. The point was just to get out and spend time together and talk. I loved that idea. She and I had a good conversation and at one point she said that at least I wasn't afraid I loved my girl less because of her dad. That at least I wasn't holding what he did against her. But I am terrified that I am. When she was born she came out looking like her biological father. And I can't explain the sadness. She was beautiful, it wasn't that. It was that there was nothing but deep, deep heartache left over from that experience and I didn't know how to separate those feelings.

Her Bio dad and I met at The Owl Bar. And I was in the middle of the experience I had written about previously. I had no desire to smoke or drink any more, and I was praying, but I don't think I had gone to church yet. A friend had gotten a baby sitter and no one wanted to go up to the bar with her. She called me like 4 times so I finally agreed to go. I didn't drink and I sat there vacantly while she talked about the cute guy at the table behind us. After a bit, he came and sat down next to me. But then he did nothing. He just sat there. For a long time. I felt so bad for the guy I struck up a conversation with him.

We had our first date on Father's Day. The irony. I asked then if he had kids and he said he had 5. I choked. I remember thinking it was a lot for someone his age but looking back I think he may have lied about that, too, his age. He asked me about my kids and I said I just had the one. He was surprised but I told him that I had been told by my OBGYN that I would have a hard time conceiving so I was lucky to have the one. I asked if he had called his dad yet and he said he had not. I urged him to call his dad before it got too late. He looked kind of ill. Like I had asked him to go ahead and drink poison since it was Drink a Poison Day. He called and left him an awkward message and he got choked up when he told his dad that he loved him and wished him a Happy Father's Day.

We broke up and got back together a bunch of times because I started feeling like I wanted someone who wanted to be in the church and he had just started living outside it. He told me I was wrong, that he had always wanted a testimony and that he was learning a lot from what I was going through. I told him I wanted to be married in the temple one day and he told me he wanted nothing more than to have a love that would last forever. He met with my bishop a few times and my dear neighbor Tom who both told him that if his intentions were not pure that he had better get lost or they would find him. My bishop was an ex marine and super scary. My neighbor has since passed away, and I'd be afraid if I were Bio.

He talked me out of accepting a small apartment Tom was letting me live in insisting that my son and I would be cramped space. He said that when my house sold I should move all of my stuff into his garage at his house he had up for sale since it was huge and empty and he had 6 weeks of traveling coming up. He wouldn't even be at home. So I accepted. On my way to a job interview I got a call from him telling me to not go, that we'd figure out something and he'd help me out. I told him I didn't want to accept that kind of arrangement unless I was married. He told me I didn't understand, that he lived to help people. He was just that way and I didn't understand also that he was serious about me. He had told people he worked with I was the one. He said it wasn't best for my son for me to work as many hours as this job would require and I should just hang out and keep looking and be more selective. I called and canceled my interview. He had a trip to take to New York and asked if I wanted to go. My favorite place on earth. I went and when I got there, there was only one bed and not even a pull out or a full sized couch.

We came home and things were awkward. He kept making little promises and not backing them up. He became angry. He started to resent my being there even though he had fought so hard for it. I knew this would happen. He packed in a sour mood and left. I went on a job interview while he was gone and I also took a pregnancy test. I don't even know why I took it, I really didn't think I would or could be pregnant. I was. He was with his kids in California when I called and told him. I was thinking I might get a 'wow' or an 'oh my gosh' but I got complete silence. Not a word and then, click. And it got worse from there. When he came home he was surly and rude. He was talking about suicide and he said over and over that he couldn't be a dad. Which at the time confused me because he already WAS a dad. What did that even mean? I told him we didn't have to be together if that was the issue. He wasn't obligated to date me just because I was pregnant. I also told him he wasn't obligated to pay through the government. That we could work out a dollar amount, since he was paying so much still for his other kids and since his ex had allegedly stolen his life savings and maxes all his credit cards. (A little over half a million to hear him tell it.) He told me that not only was he not going to pay me a dime he was going to sue me for getting pregnant. He felt I had lied to him and ensnared him )I believe the word he used was duped) because I told him on our first date that I couldn't get pregnant. I reminded him that I do have another child, he's met him. I never said it was impossible. And it was in a normal context that I shared that information. I told him that I would be interested in what his lawyer would have to say about bringing that lawsuit up. He would arrange talks where he would press me to give up the baby for adoption. He would email me and call me and tell me I was a disgusting person and that watching me keep a baby with out considering his feelings was the single most selfish thing he had ever witnessed in his life.

I started seeing a councilor at LDS services. Which was fun, being the only pregnant woman in the waiting room over 18. I talked with a family from Michigan I think, The Brubakers, about adoption and they were really nice. The reasons I didn't were these: I didn't want my son to learn that people were expendable. My father told me about a personal friend that had done it and regretted it and he knew I would also. It wasn't something I would have ever wanted if I hadn't been guilted into it. I saw her face in a sonogram and she looked like she had my chin. I stupidly thought that since she was a girl she'd probably look like me. And then one day I saw the Brubakers on the highway, they have a vanity plate with their family name. And I thought, what are the odds? And as we all waved at one another it occurred to me that we are the same. They are no better than I am. This child would not be trading up into a better existence. I knew I would be able to remarry and she would have everything with me she would with them. And she'd be with her Mom.

I was told one night on the phone that no only did no one from his family want to be there when she was born but they didn't want to have anything to do with me. He had told them what I had done and they agreed that the best thing he could do was to have nothing to do with me and the baby and that they supported him in his wishes. They also hated me, thought I was a slut and wanted nothing to do with me. Not long after I went into labor and delivered a baby girl. The day I gave birth is an unreal story of it's own but I'll spare you that. Or we'll be here until March.

The nurses wanted to know if he would come down and sign the paternity papers. So we called him. He talked to my sister, Amanda, who had helped me deliver. And he said he wouldn't sign them, that his lawyer instructed him not to sign anything unless he looked it over first. We explained how it was just one sheet of paper and it just read that he was the father. He said he didn't know for sure that he was the father. And anyway he was in California. He knew I was having the baby that week so he had run away. Either that or again, he was lying. My sister told him he should at least talk to me and he said he'd call me in a little bit, when he wasn't around his kids. I laid in my hospital bed with the phone on my deflated belly for four hours before I set it back on the dresser.

So when I had my little girl and she came out the spitting image of her father, it stung. I was afraid I was selfish in keeping her and I hurt and I was tired and scared. All of these emotions didn't leave much room for mother daughter bonding. It was never about just the two of us, it was about the two of us and the one that wasn't there. This story goes on and yes, it gets better but not by much. It's been a drawn out process and it's been full of sadness. As more time passes, I remember it less but there is a fear that, yes, we didn't bond like I wished. Like I did with my son.

So last night, after my husband informed me of her emotional state, I went into her room and didn't talk. I didn't ask her what was wrong or why she wasn't listening to dad. I didn't try and teach her anything like I usually would but it wasn't a conscious choice. I just found that I wanted to hold her and snuggle her, in part because of the emotional day I had after what I wrote. So I went in and wrapped her up in my arms and snuggled down into her bed with her. And she wrapped her arms around me back. We talked about random stuff. And she calmed down. We all said prayers and went to bed. She had a tiny fever so we stayed home all day yesterday. And we watched a movie in her bed on my phone. And we had lunch with dad and watched shows and she had a good nap. And then last night I put her to bed an hour early. Not a single tantrum since. It's a new day here.

Project "Break the Cycle". Day one.

2011-01-18T10:12:00.000-08:00

I was tucking in my daughter last night and for about the 10th time she insisted that I spent more time in my son's room than in hers. She's been doing this lately. I ask my son, who's 11, to go get the mail and she pushes him out of the way to grab it first. There are serious competition issues going on. So she's keeping track of how much time alone he gets versus what she gets at bed time. So I go into the same old speech about how she is not in competition with her brother. She begins to get whiney and complainy and it begins to make me insane. I get stabby when she gets temper-tantrumy. So I tell her that I don't spend more time with him and that I try hard to be sure that I spend equal amounts of time and that the times I leave her room early are usually the nights when I can't stay because she starts to get cranky and mean and I don't stick around for that. I tell her that she's saying I'm being a bad Mom by spending more time with him than her and I don't need to hear that when I try so hard to make their time equal. And then she said the worst thing she could ever have said to me. "You love him more than me."

I sort of stumbled into my bedroom where my husband was folding laundry and I said, "Did you hear her? She just said I love him more than her. Can you believe it? I don't act that way!" And he sort of shrugged his shoulders. I said, "Wait, you're saying I do act like that?" And I don't recall what he said but it was the equivalent of "If the shoes fits."

Wow.

I grew up the child of a High School Track coach and a crazy person. She was nuts. At the time I thought she was normal but now I know better. I have many stories but I'll illustrate what was normal for her with the highlights.

I was in 1st grade and one day my mother was brushing my hair which she didn't do often. And I was whining and crying because it was waist length and I had not been introduced to conditioner and she'd start at the root and rip through it. She told me to stop. So I explained loudly that she was hurting me and she just picked up a pair of scissors and cut it off in one swoop. Just snip, snip, snip. Off. To my chin.

My mother took me to doctors to have EKGs and other tests done because she believed I had narcolepsy since I could fall asleep anywhere, but my parents never made me go to bed before midnight. My tests came back normal but she was certain they must be wrong and so she illegally obtained something called Desoxyn, which is called speed on the street, and gave it to me, every day for about 2 years. I was in 2nd grade.

My parents got tickets to the Track events for the 1984 Olympics. We drove out there in my grandparents' Itasca. We all went together to the stadium most days but one day in particular they could only get two tickets not four. Normal people would decide which parent would take which child. My mother and father go together, hand us a bus schedule for the greater Los Angeles area and tell us to visit South Coast Mall. We got lost and had to ask strangers how to get back to our hotel. I actually remember walking along a chain link fence doing an impersonation of Tina Turner singing, "What's Love Got to Do With It." since where we were looked just like the video. That's not a good thing.

In 4th grade she sat down with my teacher to discuss my issues with school. She sat there and lied her face off to my teacher. She said they tried and tried with me and they didn't know what to do, I just wouldn't do my work. I cried my eyes out. My teacher, Ms Christiansen, asked me what was wrong and I couldn't tell her. I couldn't say that my mother was lying.

I reminded my mother 100 times about my upcoming 5th grade Maturation Clinic. It was a huge deal. Parents had to go with their kids. But on the day of, she didn't show up. My teacher and a few other parents kept asking me where my mother was. I didn't know. I was given permission to go to the office and call home. I let it ring all the way through, twice. When she finally picked up she said she couldn't come, she was taking a nap. I stopped telling her about or asking her to come to any of my events. And my dad was just...I don't know...working?

I stole the white drop waisted dress with a pink sash that my mother made for my sister's 6th grade graduation to wear to my own 6th grade graduation and no one knew because I walked there by myself, got my certificate, and walked home by myself.

In 7th grade I hosted the school talent show. I bought myself a 1950s formal dress at a thrift shop, got myself ready, drove myself there (on our scooter) and home again without a word. I don't think anyone in my family ever even knew I did that, and it never occurred to me that was weird. It was just the norm at that point.

In 8th grade I missed the bus a few times, but the 3rd time it happened my mother screamed at me that I wasn't her daughter and hung up on me. I walked with a friend to her Dad's office where we Xeroxed our boobs.

The Summer before my freshman year my mother started a running bet with her best friend that I would get pregnant by the time I was 15. I had never even held hands with- let alone kissed- a boy. Her best friend, may she RIP, wisely betted against my early and unwedded pregnancy. I saved that for my 30s.

On her off days she would slap my face and shake me and leave me notes telling me I was a little @#$%. She had hundreds of different jobs and friends and spent money on clothes at the expense of us having heat, electricity, a phone. My sister and mother would come home together laughing with shopping bags and when I would ask where they had gone they'd answer that they had gone out for Ice Cream. And then my sister would show me the clothes that she got. So when I heard what my daughter said, it was a dagger to my heart, bamboo under my nails, hot pokers in my eyes. Because it was what I had been told my whole life by my older sister. That my mother loved her more than me. And she was right. She did. Love being a verb, she loved my sister more than me. I was being accused of the worst possible crime I could be accused. That I was just like my mother.

Oh man. This can not be. I'm breaking the cycle and I'm doing it now. I need to start figuring out what I need to do differently and I need to execute. Like yesterday. 2011. Breaking the cycle. Here we go.

Let Me Tell You a Story. (A Looooong Story.)

2011-01-17T11:42:00.000-08:00

I must be getting old because I feel like telling the same stories over and over again. Right now I seem to be looking back a lot to the time in my life when I was in the middle of a whole lot of drama. So I feel like re-telling that story. If you know this one, move on. For the rest of you, "When the chimes ring...turn the page." *Chime*

My son was 3 and I was splitting from his dad. We were in a whole tangle of "Well you did____ to me" and "Well I only did_______ because you did _______." It was a slew of back and forth, and the back and forth took place at high volumes. I was in the middle of a particularly good fight with my significant other one day when I took up a baseball bat and smashed all the terracotta planters in the back yard. A chard split off of one and cut open my leg.

So I called my Mom to come get me. My significant other followed me as I limped from the bakyard to the front porch, screaming at me the whole way. I sat there on the steps bleeding all over and unable to move. I had to sit there and listen to him tell me what a liar I was and what a dirty whore I was and how disgusted I made him. And instead of running away I literally had to take it. You may be thinking, "Oh my gosh, what a JERK!" and I did, too at first. But I finally surrendered and listened to what he said, even though it was awful and mean and hard to hear. And while it wasn't 100% appropriate to do it the way he did it, there were points that he was making that I couldn't deny were accurate. I had lied to him. That was true. Putting aside all of my justifications, point blank, I had lied to him. I had made a lot of mistakes and for the first time in my life I just said..."Yes. I did that." I was tired of wanting to make him see what he did wrong. It was NEVER going to happen. I realized he might not ever in my life time fully accept responsibility for the things he had done that had "made" me do what I did. I had to drop it and just accept my part. And I needed to change.

I sat in a wheelchair in the ER with a rag on my ankle watching TV. I was processing everything and just sat in near total silence. I prayed officially to God for the first time in a long time and I just pleaded, pleaded for peace in my life. I begged for this drama to be done and over. I immediately felt relief. I suddenly knew I needed to drop the fight on my end and focus on what I could control. Me. I couldn't control him or make him see anything he needed to see but I could control me. Sure I was hoping that if I started the process of accepting responsibility he'd follow suit, but it didn't happen. I made sure that in my heart I didn't expect him to (even if I really, really wanted him to) and I had to recognize that he might not accept any responsibility...ever. But I appologized profusely over and over for my part and I went about trying to make it right.

Part of controlling what I could was to look at what I needed to change about myself. So I asked God. I asked what my problems were and what I needed to change. I wondered why nothing ever felt like it was easy and why nothing felt like it fell into place but instead just the opposite occurred. It happened so often we blamed "The Mess Up Gene." My sister, mother and I joked all the time that we must be genetically designed for failure. So I prayed to know whatever it was that I needed to know. It came to me that I should pray for humility and understanding. I begged God for humility and understanding. And the change in my life that took place because of this single prayer is the most miraculous thing I have ever experienced and I have given birth. Twice.

I began to see that I was ungracious, ungrateful, unhappy and bitter. I was critical and intolerant. I was focusing on the negative all the time and I was not cheerful and fun to be around. I cared about things that didn't matter and I was spending money I didn't have on things I didn't need. I was making permanent decisions based on temporary feelings. The list went on and on. I wanted to stop drinking and smoking, they never did anything for me and plenty against me. I wanted to stop hanging out with people that wanted different things than I did. I started praying more and I had renewed faith that God was hearing and answering me. I began to go to church. I started reading the Book of Mormon and talking to my Bishop. I made a commitment to God that I would live the rest of my life inside the church. I had botched my life in a really incredible way when I tried to live it on my terms and I was willing to try living the Gospel. I realized why I felt like I was always swimming upstream. My way didn't work. I wanted my way to be right, but it wasn't. I wanted to be able to do what ever I wanted and have the consequences that I wanted and I couldn't understand why this wasn't the way it went. I finally admitted I could not run my own life. And that was OK. It didn't mean I was a loser. I had to be humble.

I was focused and determined to be worthy to attend the Temple. I knew that there was a God and I knew he heard me when I promised I would take this all the way and I had to live my word. The day finally arrived for me to go to the Temple, it was great. I wasn't freaked out, I wasn't uncomfortable, I was happy to be someplace that challenged me to be more humble and teachable. I loved seeing how perfectly everything there was designed for us to learn and grow and designed to repel those that are just not ready to receive it. And that is also a kindness. I could see that God loves His children. I could also see that if we do things to help others, especially those who can not 'do' for themselves, we receive help from the other side.

My life now feels a thousand times better than it was before. It works. And it's because of God, not me. I botch things. God makes them work. I control what I can by doing my best to follow His commandments. I apologize and repent when I do stupid things, and I do do stupid things. I try and be humble and accept when I'm immature and need to get over myself. Because the point isn't about making people think I'm awesome. The point is about how awesome other people are. The point is to put other people first. I'm happy when I try and make God and others happy. It's the only way.

"The greatest among you will be your servant." Matthew 23:11.

2010

2010-12-28T12:32:00.000-08:00

I have enjoyed having half the day off today and reading all of the 2010 updates our friends and family included in their Christmas cards. I feel inspired to write my own. Here it is. Right now. Let's go.

Bella Rose is a silly, funny, wonderful little person. She loves her big brother so much she can hardly stand that he is a whole 4 years older, thus rendering her unable to be more exactly like him in every way. She is very creative. Her room is full of little toy dioramas she has created out of food boxes, candy wrappers, anything she can find. She can create a game out of a stick and a bar of soap. She says she loves Kitty, Mommy, Aidan and Daddy. She also loves styling outfits for school, reading, counting in French (she's in French immersion) and watching The Wizards of Waverly Place. But her favorite thing ever is to play video games with Aidan. She learned to ride a bike this year and loved riding to school. She does not like hearing she looks like Scarlett Johansson, yams, cat scratches, being asked if her curls are real, raisins or bees. She has to play at someones house EVERY day. It's a sad day for Bella when her friend Aubrey can't play. She hates the word, "no" more than any living human I've ever met.

Aidan is a kind hearted, tender old soul. He enjoyed "ski school" a lot and Aunt Jen said she could forgive him for learning snowboarding instead of skiing. He has upgraded from playing the recorder to playing the clarinet. He has read everything. Seriously, everything. He reads four or five books a month and loves The Far Side in the interm. His future consists of him living alone in a small apartment with no furniture and books everywhere like Will Hunting. He loves video games to an unhealthy degree and I would be more concerned but he wants to be a game programmer one day and is taking an auxiliary programming class three times a week. He also loves Cheezits, Kitty Jane and balloons. He is very good at expressing himself. A lot. All day long. He finds the unexpected shouting of random silly words to be the height of hilarity. His favorites are "Cheese", "Peanut-butter" and "Eyelid." He does not like Mommy working, our dog Nigel most times, being too broke to go to the pharmacy for candy and the smell of coffee.

At the beginning of the year Brett was Freddy in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (the part Steve Martin played in the film) and he loved every minute of it. Well, except for the minutes he held live goldfish in his mouth. And those few minutes in rehearsal that he broke his ribs prat falling over a fence. He did love the chiropracty sessions that came after to align the broken ribs, though. He is still happily employed at Solution X and working with his brother Rodger making Internet magic for MLM clients. Brett enjoyed all of the amazing improv shows he performed in, being home with the kids while I worked (I like to pretend he did), playing his MORPGs or whatever they are called and being a social networker. He is challenged by, but enjoys, teaching his Sunday school class. He hates, but is a good sport about, how close he came to taking everyone at work in their fantasy football league, cleaning our dog's ears, having the kids touch his face, the cat meowing at the crack of dawn and his sister Kristen being sick.

At the beginning of 2010 I was diagnosed with an auto-immune disease called Hashimotos. It was a huge relief to find I had a real medical issue making me feel the way I was. It's an ongoing process to get feeling normal, and some shoots are a lot harder than others, but it's an amazing realization to make about yourself. That much of who you are is not just spiritual but physical and somewhat out of your control. I was able to Art Direct a film this Summer called Wes and Ella and it was an amazing experience. I did miss my 20th class reunion due to rescheduling the shooting days, but I see almost everyone on Facebook anyway. I am grateful to the guys at Rivetal and Sorenson who were understanding about me taking a month and a half off to do the film. I'm grateful they still hired me back when the process was all over considering how capable my replacement, Dawn, is. I have loved the days I do get to be with the kids and walk them to school. I enjoy my church calling and the amazing people in our ward. We live in a wonderful neighborhood. So wonderful I keep convincing people to move here. I'm super grateful for the friendships we have made. I love our kids will grow up with these amazing people around them. (See: Ivie/Gardner and Clark families.) I love watching the kids be so much better at school work than I was. They're speaking languages and playing instruments like I wished I could. I enjoyed volunteering at Bella's class and meeting her friends. I didn't love having moles scraped from all over my body on two separate occasions this year and having minor surgery to remove "suspicious" skin on my knee. (Still have the stitches. They haven't melted just grown out through the skin, one knot at a time.) I also didn't love getting dressed in the dark most working days. But after getting an iPhone with a flashlight app, I'm set. I also didn't love gaining weight but it's par for the Hashimotos course and it could have been worse, some people in my condition gain far more than I have. Since the only mirrors in our house are situated over sinks, it makes it a lot easier not to care.

Our whole family loves swimming at the Lindon Pool, looking up talking cats on YouTube, Merritt Wellness Days, the trip we took to Disneyland (the first for the kids), Adventure Time on Cartoon Network, reading Harry Potter before bedtime, hitting 5 Guys or SmashBurger before a movie, the Freedom Festival and our new Honda Element (it happily replaced Brett's old white car that smells of gas and exhaust) and doing a family jig every time we paid off a debt. We collectively did not enjoy being sick, our lawn, the condition of our house, Charmin's "Enjoy the Go" commercials, the rain on Halloween and seeing multiple big huge hairy butt cracks while eating (or not) at the State Fair.

We look forward to paying off more debt, fixing up the house and having new family pictures taken. We pray we get to enjoy more of the little things that make us happy like being with family, riding bikes, dancing in Aidan's room after dinner, Brett singing his own words to "A Whole New World" while flying the kids to their beds and summer days spent playing in the sprinkler. We also pray for big, miraculous things like another little Merritt around and Kristin's total wellness. But as I get older I realize what a gift every day is and to be grateful for whatever comes. But I'd sure be grateful if what came was a truck full of tools.

Hooked on Social Networking Does Not Work for Me.

2010-12-15T10:40:00.000-08:00

My bestie and I used to call one another and talk about a mutual friend's blog. I am sure we all know a blog like it. Her house looked perfect and her kids looked perfect and she looked perfect and she had this mock humility like, "It's not much, but it's home!" And here it's a professionally decorated mansion. I know. So I quit reading blogs because in the words of my dear old college friend Allyse, "People with big houses just make people with little houses feel bad." Which is funny because she lives in a big gorgeous house now.

So after a few weeks of long shooting days I found myself back on some social networking sites looking to reconnect with my friends. I read what was going on and just asked myself, what was I hoping to find? What was I doing on here? What was I hoping to contribute? I felt like what I was looking for was not going to be had on these networking sites. I have felt that way before but never mixed with such a huge sadness. Maybe it was the memory of the wonderfully fun dinner parties we have been able to attend this year. Maybe I was feeling like that was what I needed and I was hoping for that kind of connection to occur upon my return via computer. But you know, that's impossible. I realized today that what I wrote about it on Twitter was not 100 percent what I was feeling but it's hard to pour out your heart in 140 characters, even though we certainly all do try to, don't we Twihards?

So here is what I am feeling. I want more human interaction. With you. I want to get into people's hearts and find out what they really need and what I really can do for them and for crying out loud let's connect on a human level. I'm tired of the quality of communication that takes place. I am tired of wading through the unending unhappiness people feel being spewed out in the comments they make on friend's blogs and FB status updates. Even in the comments on the silliest of little cat videos on Youtube there is just a butt load of this...mental graffiti. I'm tired of having "conversations" that are disjointed and misunderstood and most of all, conversations that would never take place in real life. I am appalled at the things we say to one another through the filter of the computer. And I'm tired of the collective goal feeling like it's 100% about self promotion and who ever promotes his or her self the best wins. What do we win?

Now whether or not you are guilty of this is for you to judge. I have been guilty of it. Totally. And especially at first when I thought it was cheeky. Kind of naughty and clever to be bold and outspoken. I feel stupid about it now. Much like how I feel about myself from about 21 years of age to 33 years of age, when most of what I did and most of my interactions with adults took place with a buzz on. Drinking never did anything for me and plenty against me. I would say the same is true for my experience social networking. I did meet some good people. It's true. But who's to say we would not share a better quality of friendship were we to meet outside the interwebs? I think we would. My bestie Jules and I met face to face at a Thrillionaires show. We very rarely read each other's blogs, even though we do talk to one another about them. We rarely comment on each other's Facebook status. We talk on the phone nearly every day, and we see each other in person. I love her and right after my husband she's my best friend.

IRL.

Taking Ownership.

2010-09-22T10:03:00.000-07:00

We bought our house during the bubble. Had we waited another 6-9 months to buy we would have probably gotten this house for a song. That is, if we had wanted this house and if we had been able to get a loan with what we made. We got our loan approved back when they were handing them out like fliers. My point being, we bought during the bubble and while I hate the word "victim" we fell "that word" to the falsely inflated market because we thought it was what we had to do to be owners.

We both have wanted to be home owners our whole lives. When the rest of you as kids were probably nestled in your beds having your parents read you bedtime stories and making you cookies in the house you were raised in from birth or at least toddlerhood, my husband and I were probably packing up our things for the 18th time. I do not make that number up, both Brett and I moved about 30 times before we turned 30. Let's talk about how much stuff you have after you pack up that many times and move. Let me tell you, you become light. Those boxes of your art work from kindergarten and plaster imprints of your hands and class pictures? That stuff is the first to go. I tried to save those things. My ten year old moved 6 times before he was 8. Bella, 3 times in 4 years. That is if you don't count the 2 times I loaded a moving van by myself while I was pregnant with her. If you do, then 5 times. This house is the longest my kids have lived...anywhere. I lived in Wisconsin then moved to Iowa then back to Wisconsin then here to Utah. Once here, I moved from house to house within the school district so no one really knew how much I was moving unless we were good friends. Then you knew. You knew how I lived at friends houses and in neighbors basements and garages. In places we would sometimes have to pay for by giving away things. In order to try and stay in a house for just three extra months once, my grandmother gave a man the deed to some land she owned and could never convince anyone to develop. That land is now called Traverse Mountain.

Brett moved from state to state more than I did but he similarly lived in garages and basements and other people's houses and was essentially homeless. (I think I have him beat with the few months I had a cot in a potato cellar with a microwave as my headboard, so I woke up every morning to, *ding, smack*, but I wasn't there to see some of the basements he lived in.) So knowing the kind of pain and fear that comes with homelessness we wanted to buy a home as soon as possible to prevent this from being "us". I am sure for most people buying a home is about making a wise investment and having something that will gain equity over time to help to pad your retirement nest egg or whatever. For us, it was about our children never wondering where they were going to sleep that night and trying to do better for our kids than our parents had done for us and having something that no one could ever, ever take away from us. So you know how desperate I am when I say I am considering having someone take it away from us. We are looking at making a strategic default. LOOKING AT. Don't get all excited...

And don't judge me. If you bought at a time when the market was boasting a false price, you know how cheated you feel. And if you don't, I feel cheated. People that I will not ever get my hands on decided to pretend houses were worth a crazy amount and we were all forced to pay it if we wanted a house. We wanted a house like anything. Brett and I didn't leverage ourselves and buy a huge house on an ARM like people were telling us we could, we set a realistic budget and bought a normal sized piece of crap house that was pretty much the only thing we could find in our decided price range. Sure there were houses for less, but they were two bedroom 1,000 square foot houses in West Valley. Not that this is why we would ever default, just because we were bitter about losing equity. And not because our house payment could buy us a 400,000 house in today's market. Not even that.

When I came to look at this house the first time it had been listed for about a half an hour. I was in the car on my way south to look at another house and got the call to come see it. My agent said it would be gone in 24 hours. I drove down but we couldn't get in, the parents weren't home, so we just looked around the outside. Three guys in black BMWs pulled up and tried to muscle their way in past the children who were home alone. That made the renters and the owners mad, we found out later, mad enough not to want to sell to them. My agent and I watched these idiots for a while when unexpectedly the owner showed up with a handyman. She happened to park by me so I began talking to her. She liked me because I had lived down the street. I didn't tell her I have lived down every street in Utah County, I let her dream. Our realtor told me if we somehow won the bidding war that was sure to happen with the BMW guys there was a friend of his that would buy it from us sight unseen for 10 grand more than we bought it for. We said no. Am I kicking myself now? Sure. But our answer was that we wanted a house, the house we never got to have as kids, to give to our children. A place to live without someone throwing us out on a moments notice because A. They sold the house, or B. Because their cousin/sister/friend was getting married and they were giving the house to them to rent/buy/lease or C. They went through an awful divorce/financial period/bankruptcy and decided to quit paying your rent money to the bank or D. They wanted to start parking their car inside for the winter. We wanted to raise our family and grow old in a house for a change was our answer at the time.

Our agent knew a guy that did appraisals. A friend of his. This is a huge no-no if you were wondering. They pretty much sell you on the house as a team because one hand washes the other in this scenario. They told us certain things would be easy to fix, that our home owners insurance would cover a new 15,000 dollar heating system and that we didn't need a mold test. The house was being rented by hoarders so much of our home inspection reads, "Can not see (floor/walls/ceiling) to make full assessment." The renters told me of a toilet upstairs that broke and ran for an entire day and that the shower downstairs dripped badly for over a year. Every single door had been kicked in. It smelled and had muppett blue carpet EVERYWHERE. Were there huge red flags? Yes. But walking immediately into 70,000 in equity...how big could that red flag appear? Very small. Like a Barbie sized flag. And not even red. More like watermelon. And not even a flag. More like a scrap. Like a very little bit of watermelon Barbie yarn.

I worked on the house tirelessly in the beginning of our ownership. Then I slowed down. I thought it was because I was losing motivation to do it. I had energy one day and spent it tearing out carpet strips when I found the mold. We sealed up the downstairs. Then we tore the moldy drywall and paneling and base molding out and dealt with it ourselves to save 6 grand. And then it just sat, torn up. It's been like this for years. And I began to become successful in my job. And I began to continue to gain weight and sleep a lot and get sad and overwhelmed and in general my body began to act weird. And then I found out I had a rare disease. So we had some medical bills. Not too many but enough. We looked into Loan Modification and the company we gave our money to went out of business right after we paid them. We were very lucky that Steve Andrus has a lot of integrity because he worked his butt off and paid us back every red cent after a just few months time. We have had over 20 construction/handy men/contractor guys come look at the house. They all somehow stop returning our calls and just disappear. When I told that to the last construction guy, Jordan, he just laughed and said, "Are you scaring them away or something?" I said, "I think so, yes." He said, "You look tired. You look tired while talking about this." I am tired. I am just to the bones and soul tired. And so overwhelmed I wish I could explain what it feels like. I don't think you can imagine the stress and pain unless you have gone through something like this on your own for a few years. I am grateful for having a roof over our heads, I am. I am grateful for the people I work with that keep hiring me and are loyal and kind and fun and wise. I am grateful for having had such huge help with our kitchen and the miracle that that was. I am grateful to friends that offer advice and offer to help. It's just not possible to accomplish. I don't have a week anymore to have friends come over to help me. I work every day now so I won't begin something I can't finish. I don't have the physical energy either. I can't keep showing people what we need to do on our house over and over again. I can't keep living with it like this. I'm at rock bottom, folks.

As you go about your day, opening your doors without thinking about them, ask yourself what it would be like to have to yank repeatedly on that door to get it to open, dozens of times every day, every day for years. Or have it just one day fall off it's hinges. As you go about your day breathing in and out ask what it would be like to know your air quality is equal to living in the everglades. Or as you walk your deck stairs ask what it would be like to have to watch every single person that uses those stairs, every time they use them because there is a stair missing and the dog/neighbor's kid/your nephew almost fell through. This Thanksgiving when you sit with your family eating turkey and watching football on the couch imagine after cooking for two days you kiss your family goodbye, put on a coat and go out with a rented industrial paint sprayer and paint your entire house in order to take advantage of the free day you get renting equipment through Home Depot on a Holiday weekend. When you plug in your hair appliance/phone charger/laptop does it fall out of the outlet, two or three times during the course of you using it? Mine do. I just lost a ton of changes on this blog post alone after the laptop unplugged. Imagine crying for two hours while tearing out a bathroom floor after spending an entire day working on it, only to find you did it wrong and have to do it all over again. Imagine laying in bed wondering if your kids are breathing in gas from the pipe leaks. Imagine fighting and praying your way through a situation that was going to be so easily taken care of by a simple construction loan you could get with your 70,000 equity that no longer exists and never really did. Imagine working strenuous 17 hour days for weeks on end and finally coming home to a day off that is filled with the need for more physical labor. You fight that fight with your broken body for three years while being a wife and mother and holding a calling in your ward and throw in there a crazy mother and some mole removal then stir that all up in a pot with some loved ones fighting cancer and losing your dear Grandmother that raised you. After you do that, why don't you think of all of those things that I bet you take for granted day after day for being easy, that I have to deal with year after year, then you tell me if I am being immoral for considering a strategic default on an inflated loan on an arbitrary amount that was doled out under pretense by greedy succubi. You live in my shoes. In this house. Then you judge.

More Moley

2010-09-02T21:35:00.000-07:00

I am scraping the asbestos off my ceiling yesterday when I get a phone call from the Dermatologist's office. I am wondering why they are calling me for the second time in as many days. I answer and listen to a girl who can't be more that 19 try and talk to me in a language she doesn't understand and seems excited to be using in front of another grown-up. She tells me about the kind of mole the lab said was on my left arm and then she tells me about the mole on my thigh.

I ask confused, "My thigh?" She says yes. I tell her that the mole on my thigh was removed a few months ago, does she mean for certain the one on my thigh or the one on my knee? She mouth breathes for a second and says, "Uhm...the one on your knee..." I explain that indeed, that one was removed during my last visit. She is surprised by this. She says that if it's already removed not to worry about it. We hang up.

She calls me back three minutes later. She says again, it needs to be removed. I say, "Why am I removing something that isn't there anymore?" I continue, "My knee had a questionable mole recently removed, it was being sent out for a second opinion, it was on my left leg. Your doctor removed it last visit. IS this the mole we are talking about?" She sits for a second and sort of goes, "Yeeeahh the one on your knee." She's not sounding too sure. They need to have it excised and I need to come in and have it removed. I slap my hand to my forehead. "I did have it removed." "You did?" "Yes." "When?" "When I was there last." "On the 24th?" "Yes, exactly, on the 24th." Inhale. Exhale. "Oh. Mkaaay. Uhm, hang on a second." She puts me on hold. I'm sort of enjoying this now. She gets back on the line. "Uhm you need to come back and they need to do it again because of the cells. Because it's (Insert type of cell here) and they need to take them all out and make sure they are all out." I tell her I am totally lost. I ask if I am supposed to come in and do it now while my stitches are still in there or wait until it heals up and come back in to be re-opened or what. And she goes, "Uhm, hang on." I can tell she's getting someone else to help me this time. Sure enough another older voice comes on the line and begins with a slightly impatient and condescending tone, but not terribly so. "Hi, you aren't understanding something..?" I bluntly say, "Yes, actually, your girl there didn't understand what she was saying to me and so I didn't understand what she was saying to me." She sort of laughs and then explains it to me. They did what is called a "punch". What I gather is that when you do one of these punches, you are hoping that some cells are the bad changing into cancer cells and that the ones at the bottom of this core sample of cells will be clean so you know you got it all. Mine were all bad. They didn't get enough skin. So they have to go back in. So I ask when. They can't take me until the 13th. I am now shooting this day so I have to push it some more, which means I unfortunately will be all healed up just in time to be cut open all over again. Hooray. Also, I have to go in after they see their regular day time clients because I guess what I am doing is considered "surgery" and their surgery clients come at the end of the day. So they thoughtfully go about their day getting all nice and exhausted for their surgery patients who come in somewhere after what I am hoping is their 3:00 Starbucks run. Thankfully there was no mention about my butt mole. She hangs up. I go on scraping my ceiling.

She calls back. Do I take any blood thinners? No. We hang up. I scrape. She calls back. Did the last girl explain about the mole on my arm? Yes. Hang up. I stared at the phone for a good two hours before relaxing, realizing there would be no more phone calls. And then it hit me.

Do I have cancer?

I call her. Do I have cancer? No. I have cells that are in the process of making bad "changes". Sometimes these changes can become cancer and sometimes they go in for surgery and find the cancer in the skin beneath the changing mole cells, so it's good to be sure and get it all out just in case. Got it. I don't have cancer. As far as she knows.

What a relief.

Holy Moley

2010-08-26T09:29:00.000-07:00

I am a moley person. I have a lot of moles. My mother tried to put a spin on them by calling them "beauty marks" but how beautiful are they when that same woman kept thinking one on your bum was a fleck of poo when you were a baby and would try and wipe it off? Every time I see a new one on BR's little body I just say, "We need more sun screen on you." My son on the other hand is translucent. His freckles freckle. Still, I don't try and spin it by going around telling him they are angel kisses. But I digress...

My first trip to see Dr Stone a few months ago he looked me over and found some moles that were needing to be removed and a few to watch. He scraped them and I was surprised at how little they hurt at the time and how much they hurt later after the local wore off. Some time after it's over I get a call from the Dr's office. Two of my moles came back from the lab as pre-cancerous. I am like, whatever, I have irregular pap smears every time. Every time. They tell me that if any moles they scrape actually reappear, to call them immediately. They do. So I do. And three days ago I went back in.

I stupidly think, I'm here so they can look at the moles that came back. They're gonna look at them. And see them. So they can tell if later they need to remove them. I wear loose pants and a loose shirt so they can get a look at these moles they wanna see. And while they are discussing all of these things, "This one we need to burn off again, this ones fine,"...I'm thinking..."OK later when I come back they can do that." He wants to know if there are any other moles any where on my whole entire body that might possibly have escaped our mine sweep last time. And then I remember. My poo mole. I tell him that my Mom used to try and wipe one that is on my bum. Because it looked like poo. He is very interested in the poo mole and wants to see it. I tell him I have no idea where it is. He says no problem what will happen is that I will get a drape and the nurse will locate it and then they will come in and the drape will be torn just so and all they will be able to see is the mole. I picture in my head the position a baby is in to have a butt change and I sort of lose my breath. Ankles at my ears? Oh no way.

The nurse drops the table cloth on my lap and I shout, "We're doing this NOW?" And to her credit she just says, "Yep." I'm like, "But I didn't shower. I've been reading Mockingjay all morning." She has a wipe for me. I ask to use the bathroom where I take a spit bath and cross my fingers. She tells me she wants me to disrobe and cover with the cloth and wait. While waiting my imagination runs wild. I had not mentally prepared for this. For any of this.

I have a moment to take off my pants and then I realize I can leave my shirt on. Which is super awkward. It's what Mr Merritt calls "Donald Ducking." I sit on the end of the table and wait. She comes back in and tells me I can lay face down. I exhale. She tears a hole in the paper and goes hunting. She is looking...around...pretty closely...and doing a...pretty thorough job. And she says, "I don't see it". I tell her, "I wish I could help you." I just know it's around there somewhere. She looks on the outer cheek area and pokes me. "Oh, It's just right there." I drop my head. Then she says, "Oh, there is a little hair in it, let me get it." And I feel a tiny, PING. And I say, "You did not just pull a hair out of my butt mole." She says that she figured I would rather it be her than the doctor. And just when I finish thinking how I actually would rather have not ever known I had a butt mole hair at all, the air conditioning kicks in and my entire drape just simply lifts up...and blows away. I am now on the table. Butt up. Naked as a jay bird. The nurse leaves the room faster than I have ever seen someone exit a room in my life, and I know it's to laugh. I can not fault her that.

I pick up the drape, lay down and try and adjust the hole in the paper over the approximate area she poked with her finger, then I securely tuck it under me. It's a long while before anyone comes back in. They are glad to see the poo mole, they aren't super concerned but since it's on my hiney they feel I should scrape it now to avoid having to come in and drop trou every single visit I have. I agree wholeheartedly with that. In total, they re-scrape moles on my rear, my arm, my chest and my knee. On my inner left leg they took some kind of core sample of skin that looked like a small gummy worm and then stitched me back up and told me not to do anything or go anywhere or get wet for a couple of days.

I immediately called Brett and Julia and told them the entire story. And then I laid down in bed and read the rest of Mockingjay wondering how she could handle big injuries when I couldn't even handle four stitches and some gratuitous nudity. I am no Katniss Everdeen. I wasn't even about to re-tell this story EVER but I realized that if my good friend was brave enough to tell her story of Manhattan and Friday the 13th here: http://www.jetsetcarina.com/ I could tell my tiny little doctor story. Enjoy.

Wes and Ella: Day Seven.

2010-06-26T19:57:00.000-07:00

I am no longer processing information well. I stopped for gas and fell asleep behind the wheel. I had my front door ajar and my mouth totally open. I woke up and saw some people staring at me, probably wondering if I was alive. I had a dream I died in a nuclear explosion last night. I felt my body fall away from me and I was at peace.

I had heard a couple of weeks ago while I was on set that Chelsey was in remission and while on set this week I found out she has another tumor. I took a break and called her and we cried and got caught up. I couldn't believe it had been over 3 weeks since we talked. In total she has gotten rid of four tumors. One in her brain, one in her lung, two in her spine. The new one is also in her spine and she has a bulge there that they are watching. She's responding well to an alkaline diet, whatever that is.

We had a bit of rare family drama that was a nightmare and a half but it was resolved. I had to bring down the hammer. I have a zero "mess with my kids" tolerance policy. No matter who you are. (To clarify, it was NOT Brett!! He's a great Dad.) That is as much as I'm going to go into it.

Today was a gorgeous day on set and I am learning things every day. I feel tired but so blessed. My assistant Jeramey is kicking hiney, working really hard. Things are coming together. I wish I had done certain things differently but there are also some things I am really proud of.

I need a full nights sleep and to get the art installation "yurt" done and then I will feel 100%. I'm in love with this process. We're making art.

Wes and Ella: Day One.

2010-06-20T16:49:00.000-07:00

Everything on my body hurts. Art Dept went into overtime on Sat. 17.5 hours. And I didn't even get to clear out two locations because they locked up and I couldn't get in to clean them so I have to go tonight. I have slivers that I can't see. I wore Ebony stain splatter on my leg to church today. I fell soundly asleep in Sacrament. I accidentally wrote Bella's name on Brett's Father's Day card. I'm already behind on my massive schedule of things to do. My house is a royal total mess. I have nothing left in my budget but more props to get. Nancy told me (I think) she is recommending me as a teacher in some new Sunday School class but I didn't EVEN understand the conversation as it went. Are these my fingers?

I can't wait to do it again tomorrow.

Wes and Ella

2010-06-16T16:10:00.000-07:00

Today I grabbed lunch with Jules who is not only the only girl best friend that I have but pretty much the only girl best friend I have ever had. At least since High School. You can read Blondecanary.blogspot.com to find out about her, but it's not as awesome as who she is in real life. She is helping out with the graphic stuff for the film we start shooting in 2 days. (Gulp.) So we are talking about movies and if I may share her personal stuff with out her permission, we were sharing experiences we have had at the movies where we sat at the end of a film, even a mediocre one, and thought to ourselves...how? How does that become a part of my life? How do I get to do that? She is an actress of much rapport and talent so I can see how she can watch a film and think, I can do that. I look at a film and think, could I do that??

I'm about to find out. Last November I turned down doing a couple of films. I've made no secret of why, but I just couldn't bring myself so sign off. I agreed to do one film without reading the script because I know the filmmakers. The second film was shooting at the same time so I had to say no since I thought I was booked. Then I read the first fim's script. I couldn't get behind it. So I said no, again. This was not easy for the reason before mentioned. Not many people would recall this... (Julia did, which is a part of why we are good friends...the short hand is awesome) but when the film "Once" won Best Original Song at the Oscars, Glen Hansard said "Make art!" I remember taking in that moment. And thinking how great it was that a group of folks got together with little more than the desire to make art, and totally succeeded. This is why I'm doing Wes and Ella. And believe me, there have been times when I have not been sure how it is going to happen with the little time and money we have. An then I talked to Jules and she reminded me. I am doing it to make art. And yeah, I'm losing out on other work with the Rivetal crew that I love and yeah I'm getting paid less and working waaaay more hours, but I am doing it for reasons I can get behind. I want to shoot a lovely couple hopping on a train to nowhere and slow dancing in an industrial park and talking about death while folding laundry. I can't say why other than that I am hoping we make art.

Brett Merritt is the Bomb Dot Com.

2010-05-07T19:52:00.000-07:00

And now for a public thank you. Thank you so much, Bret Merritt. I think I will cry for a couple of weeks every time I see you knowing that you think all of those nice things you wrote about me on your blog. The kids asked me to read it out loud to them and they seconded some points and gave me big hugs and made me cry even harder. That was the best Mother's Day gift I could ever, ever ask for and there is no way you could have guessed the kids would also be so cute about it and make it that much more special. I love you very much. I'm glad we're forever.

Insert Cheesy Theme Song Here.

2010-05-02T14:52:00.000-07:00

We knew that in April we had to pay for our Jeep or we would risk paying huge lease penalties for being over our miles. We leased back when we had another good car and lived in SLC. Then that other car had issues, we moved to Provo, I started commuting and the mileage became just mountainous. So Brett did some research and found we had to pay off one of our debts in total because our debt to income ratio was just a hair over where it should be and we couldn't get a car loan. Now, we knew this was happening. We knew we had a deadline with the car. But we also knew we were going to Disneyland and we also knew we had our taxes coming up so we planed for those two things and I really just thought I had to let the chips fall where they may on the car thing. This is where I think paying tithing pays back in enormous ways. I could probably have sat down and calculated how to handle this situation in the same way I calculated and slowly saved for our Disney trip. But I really didn't. To be honest, It kept going out of my mind. Brett once texted me and said that we had a week to buy our car but I could not for the life of me picture how that was going to look, how that was going to happen. The day before we had to buy the Compass I got done with work and the thought came to me that I should stop by TMG and drop off some of my invoices. When I got there they said they had a check for me and a check for Brett. I had just gotten one in the mail a couple days before so I was shocked. I told them they couldn't possibly have another one for me since I had just gotten paid for three. The check I got in the mail had three invoice numbers on it so TMG had combined them into one BIG check. Which was unexpected. As was getting paid again so soon. (Keep in mind I'm on about a two month payment lag with TMG so I sometimes lose track of what's coming to me from two months ago...) I took the checks from TMG to the bank and that was when I noticed the checks were both under my name instead of one being for Brett like I thought. So we had one extra. I then asked for my savings balance which was HUGE. I asked how that could possibly be, and realized at the same time the teller said it out loud that we had gotten our tax return electronically. I also had another check auto-deposited that same day from Cosmic Pictures. I took it, put it all together and paid off the remaining balance to our consolidation loan that we had outstanding with our bank. After paying it off, they said Brett had the right debt to income ratio to turn around and get a car loan to pay off our lease. So on the very last day of our lease we dropped the consolidation loan payment that was almost 400 dollars and the car lease payment that was almost 400 and got one payment of 230.00 at a better rate. I know.

My friend Chelsey and I got together and started this website a while back. www.blackhoneyvintage.com We both love vintage to an insane degree and we had both always wanted to have a store. We were having fun getting everything going. About the same time we found that we were having trouble balancing lives and our families and friends (she's single) and our demanding full time jobs. Well her full time job at Adobe. My...sometimes full time job. I just found it interesting that for whatever reason I could not get anywhere on a business plan. I am getting used to the kinds of things like the story above occurring when something is meant to be. And there was that swimming upstream feeling instead of that happening without me feeling like what went down with the car. We both didn't have to say anything to one another we just both slowly ran out of steam trying to manage our lives. The web site sort of fell by the wayside. Then here we are down the road and I just found out I have this auto-immune disease and in the last month of feeling better I have wondered if the dream could come back to life. And then I got a text from Chelsey saying that she was starting chemo. I will respect her privacy and just say that she has a rare form of cancer and she is doing great considering. She sounds like she has a great doctor and her family and friends and ward are there for her. I'm so impressed with her strength. I am also amazed at how perfect God is. If we had not let the business idea drop...I don't know. I can just see that the idea was a good one but it wasn't in the cards. And a year ago it just faded away because it needed to and no ones feelings were hurt. I praise God. Once again. Only he can see around corners.

I have been adjusting my own meds. Like I said I might. I have been taking one and cutting one in half. I feel amazing. I am so grateful to everyone that said, in a nutshell, don't listen to the nurse...do what you need to do. I need to take 75mg. And it's meant everything. I haven't lost weight, but I don't cry in my sweats on the couch over a bowl of cereal every time I have a crappy day. If I don't feel great, I take it in stride and I find I feel great soon. My attitude is back to its normal unrealistic level. Meaning I still think I can do everything and accomplish everything and to a silly unrealistic level which is just the kind of irresponsible denial I like in myself.

The other day I saw on Facebook my cousin's status and it read something about how he felt that nothing ever seemed to work out for him. I felt like that all of the time about ten years ago. The mojo I have going on now is exactly what I always wanted and always wondered how to obtain. I had no idea that it was a blessing that came with following commandments. This is why we are given commandments. So that we can have this kind of flow. To hear Chelsey's story is further testimony about what happens when you turn your life around. She did. And not only has she caught this thing early but she has told me about six stories all intricately woven together about how she has been blessed with everything from medical insurance to having the money already in savings to use to pay her medical bills to having a ready collection of gorgeous vintage scarves. And her hair hasn't even fallen out, yet. I am in awe. I am amazed. I am baffled at how much God loves us. We give so little and get back 10,000 fold. I pay 10% but I have had the windows of heaven open up and dump blessings down on my family, just like is promised. I am happy to see where this next year leads. I'm grateful for Chelsey and ask you pray for her and that she will be strong through her treatments. And please also pray for her roommate, her cousin Cat. Cat watched her father die of cancer. It's a lot to go through again for her. Especially since there are two other members of their family with cancer. It's been a tough year for them.

As for our little family we are excited for Disneyland coming up and celebrating Bella's Birthday there, Brett's Birthday in Vegas, our 4 year Anniversary in June. With all of this going on I'll try and check back in here before August.

Self Medicating.

2010-04-12T11:36:00.000-07:00

I called to talk to the Doctor today to ask some questions about myself and Brett. Brett also went in to have some blood tests done, now that we're all paranoid that something can be wrong with you and you don't even know it.

I got the nurse on the phone that "helped" me before. The one that has Hashimoto's also. I told her that I wanted to know how this process works and if I needed to set an appointment for three weeks from now to discuss my levels or whatever. She said no. No. N-O. She started talking about my levels but I didn't understand her. So I asked her what they were anyway, and she told me, TSH 4.270 the first test. TSH 4.550 the second test. Which is not off by much. And T4s .98 which IS NORMAL. NORMAL. I told her about how the first week on my meds were amazing and how I felt so perfectly back to normal for me. She said, "Oh I know. It's just the bump of hormones that makes you feel good and then you go back to the way you were before." I am now crying my eyes out and probably will for a couple of months which is when they told me to come back in. Because I am not going back in to check my levels until June. JUNE. J.U.N.E.
J!
U!
N!
E!

She said my levels weren't that off so I need to be on a lower dosage. She said the doctor put me on them at all because they found I had Hashimotos and that Kevin is just trying to thwart it early on.

I am now faced with the fact that this horrible depression and anxiety and lethargy and overwhelm-ed-ness are my reality. For the rest of my life. And will only get worse. All I can say to you, dear reader, is that if you take your sweet and lovely reality for granted, there is a special place in my hell for you. Because not only am I jealous of you for functioning just fine but you don't even appreciate it. I am considering self medicating to a point where *I* feel better and say screw them for using some medical test to determine that and not whether or not I actually freaking feel any better. If I have to continue on like this I will fall the hell apart sometime at the end of April.

And I totally forgot to ask any and all questions related to Brett's tests I was so angry and upset. Sorry, B.

I should have known.

2010-04-05T08:58:00.000-07:00

Since nothing can ever be easy, I should have known. The meds have stopped doing anything and I am back about where I started. I now can see exactly how this is going to go. I will take some meds, I will feel awesome until my body acclimates to the drugs and then I will feel myself slide back to where I was, almost. I will do this for a few months to get the hormone levels right. I do find I have a teensy bit more energy but I am not feeling like I did the first three or four days on the meds. I probably won't feel great all the time like that, but I won't feel back to the way I did entirely either. I will, after a roller coaster of emotion that won't be real, find myself a spot somewhere in the middle of awesome and totally in the toilet. So on the one hand I'm grateful there will be progression but on the other hand I have seen what it would be like to live in a total state of nirvanna and I won't get to have that as my every day reality. Do some people get to live like that every day? Do they know how lucky they are??

But I can't feel sorry for myself. I mean I *can* but I will be mad at myself if I do. It's not like I have cancer. At least so far. I had two moles come back iffy and they are being "watched". I told Brett that would figure. He said it would be the icing on my recent poop cake. I said I should just get Cancer, the Ebola virus, and pregnant with a Downs baby. He said that the baby part would be fine, since they are really sweet kids. I had to agree, that part would not be so bad. Especially since he agreed he would be the one to stay home and take care of it.

Arigato Gozaimasu, Mr Hashimoto.

2010-03-25T08:31:00.000-07:00

So I got the blood tests back and I have something called Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. It's an auto-immune disease that is not curable. It's where your immune system attacks parts of your thyroid thinking it is not a part of your body but foreign antibodies and must be destroyed. So I go through bouts of Hyper and Hypothyroidism depending on how Mr Hashimoto is feeling and what part of my thyroid he has his pudgy little hands around.

This explains...well everything. The Nurse that gave me the news also has it. She said I could have had this for five to ten years without ever knowing it. Some people go undiagnosed until they can't get out of bed and are so depressed they seek medical attention. Other people that have it get diagnosed improperly with things like Bi-polar Disorder and Depression and Anxiety. (Or in my case ADHD, but he wasn't a real doctor. I digress.) I am glad that really the worst of it, the energy loss and the over sleeping and the depression and the weight gain were within the last two to two and a half years or so. (Poor Brett, we've been married for three.) She also then told me the meds would not make me feel any better. I cried for a whole day.

Well. Day one on the meds was like someone had flipped on a light switch. I cleaned the house. The whole house, and it didn't seem overwhelming. I made dinner then put the left overs away and then did the dishes and then made cookies and then cleaned the kitchen. Like a normal person. And I did the laundry and played with the kids. And raked he leaves. Bella threw a fit and I let her and it didn't bother me. I was like, ain't-no-thing-but-a-chicken-wing about stuff that used to send me over the top. My quality of life was back to normal. Day two was even more interesting. I went to my presidency meeting and I noticed an amazing thing. Where before my calling made me feel super nervous, left me guessing and second guessing every move I made and feeling confused and fearful (all of these things a more self aware person would probably recognize as anxiety), all of these emotions were just...gone. I didn't worry about saying something stupid or talking at the wrong time or sounding dumb. It was all just, peace. I do have one negative side effect, however. I am feeling a little manic. Less stable. Like I am piloting a paper airplane of emotions. I noticed that when something strikes me as sad I well up straight away. If something makes me mad I will rant about it and get more and more excited until I am nearly frenzied. I freaked out on my Mom about holistic medicine last night, sorry Mom, and then Brett and I had a big conversation this morning about politics in Utah where I just escalated into a raving nut ball. (Mmmm, I love raving nut balls but they are like 600 calories.) I hope this part levels off.

Speaking of calories, I can't eat. On the first day I sat down to eat three crunchy tacos and ate two and a half. I tried some tortilla chips. The chips tasted super salty and I had to stop. Oh, and I ate a couple jalapenos and I was amazed at how hot they were. I used to eat them with everything. I felt after dinner like I was going to explode. I was like Thanksgiving Day style full. It didn't stop me from eating oatmeal cookies later though and I got even sicker. I can't eat like I used to. Food just looks uninteresting to me now, which is how I used to be my whole life. It's nice to have that back and not have this insatiable and ever present desire to eat my face off every hour. I have back that little voice in my head that says, "You should probably stop eating, that will be enough." He's been gone for so long , I forgot what he sounded like. Whatever your name is, I missed you. Just find a nice quiet place to read when I go to Smashburger. I won't be needing you then.

I feel my old ambition back, my old fire back, my old can-do attitude back. I have a sense of optimism back, a sense of joy, and a lightness of being. I am so amazed that I went on for so long not knowing that I didn't have to feel the way I did. Not knowing anything was even wrong with the way I was feeling. Never did I associate the tiredness, weight gain, overwhelming dread, joint pain and endless stress with an actual physical issue. I thought these things were psychological or spiritual or just plain old age. I am so thankful that my Doctor figured me out. I'm grateful Brett's employer decided to give us health insurance so I could get the Aetna cards in the mail the day I decided to make the appointment. I'm glad I got this stupid rash, that still hasn't gone away, because it got me in to the doctor. I'm grateful his nurse has Hashimoto's so they thought to check for it. I'm glad he is cool enough of a guy to sit and talk to me about life and then put the pieces of our conversation into a diagnostic frame work. I am grateful for God who I know shifts these things around into place on our behalf. Because he loves us. I could be negative and mad and want the last ten years of my life back, but I don't care. I am so happy I found it out and that my little Bella Rose won't have to worry. I'll get her checked out the first teeny, tiny sign of depression so she can maintain her quality of life. Which will be high.

Sticking out my big fat neck.

2010-03-19T09:30:00.000-07:00

In pictures of me over the last couple of years I noticed a few different, very upsetting things. One, my arms that have always looked slim and muscular from constant work and workouts, got really flabby. Two, my abdomen that I have been secretly pretty proud of got poochy. Three, my neck seemed to get more manly. I have always been kind of "athletically built" as one person put it. I'm not curvy and busty, I have been pretty long and flat my entire life. Like an adolescent boy. So for me to look at a picture and see I was getting a manly neck to me was just a part of getting older and one more bit of evidence that I was not a girlie girl. This is how I framed it.

This year I quit soda (More like cut back on) and stopped eating sugar and after dinner snacks and started running. I was doing great, running about 2-3 miles to start out with and getting up to 5-6 by mid February. I was on track for the half marathon I committed to run with some friends from High School days. The guys I work with and I were talking about running relays and racing bikes together. I realized how much I missed having that in my life and was looking forward to this summer for these reasons. But I noticed I didn't lose any weight and wasn't putting on any muscle. Instead I was getting muscle twitches. I then (TMI ALERT) had my monthly visit from Aunt Flo. And for many, many months now, I have been having *ahem* unusual circumstances with Aunt Flo. She has gotten aggressive in her old age. (Dudes, I don't blame you if you just...close the browser.) It was less like a typical expected cycle of nature and more like a surprise attack. If regular periods are a kind stranger asking you for a dime at the bus station, what I had going on was a group of drug addicted gang members attempting a home invasion. I had so many issues that once in the middle of a pre-production meeting I had to spend a good amount of time in the bathroom and what was I wearing? White jeans. Someone asked me if I was OK. How do you say, I think I am losing my internal organs? I had to sneak out of the production office while everyone was shaking hands and saying their goodbyes and go and buy new pants to drive home in. You get the idea. So here I was a couple of weeks ago, in this same boat. Getting mugged by Aunt Flo. I forced myself to the gym and ran a mile and a half before I felt like dying. I cried the whole way home. For bout ten days at odd times I felt like all of the blood in my entire body would leave my head and go find something better to do. I almost blacked out while driving, which had happened one other time about six months before. I couldn't even climb the stairs at my house without feeling light headed. I had a rash on my thighs appear. I got a stomach bug. At home, I swept the floor and my hands would not leave the handle. I had to uncurl them slowly and they hurt, from way inside. I would sleep ten hours a night or more if I wasn't working.

So last week I went to see my Doctor in Salt Lake about this rash. I love him, he's been great to my kids and I. I drive up to 3900 S to see him. This love runs that deep. So we talk and catch up. We just talk about running and training and we talk about my rash but it's my other symptoms which he seems to be WAY more interested in. It all comes out in what seems to be casual conversation. He tests me for Strep for the rash and it's negative. He decides to do what he calls "a s___ load of blood tests". He calls me on set the next morning and says that it's my thyroid. I have no idea what this is exactly. I know it's a gland. I go home and look it up on www.tooloffear.com, otherwise known as Web MD, and it all makes so much sense. I mean all the way back through my whole life I can see how I have had these types of hormonal issues and they seem to have been getting out of control over the last two years. Now, I do not mean to make this sound like a lady disease. Along with this comes things like crippling exhaustion, joint pain, irritability, memory loss, cold intolerance, dry skin, hair loss, depression, weight gain, infertility, and the coup de grace, an enlarged neck. I am now totally assured I have Hypothyroidism. Yesterday I went in and had more blood drawn to determine if I have Hyper or Hypothyroidism or something else entirely like Lupus. So we'll see what's what. After hearing last week that a friend who has been fighting with two types of cancers has been back in the hospital with a terrible infection, finding out I have something totally treatable, I'll take it. And I actually feel really proud of myself that I have still been able to accomplish the things I have been able to, and am trying to be kinder to myself about the things I have not been able to. It's kind of a relief, really.

If you or someone you love has a neck that looks like it is smuggling a potato, please see your doctor.

Thanks, Asparagus, I Feel the Spirit.

2010-02-14T18:40:00.000-08:00

We all stayed home today. Bella was up coughing all night and woke up with a fever and Brett's ribs are still on the mend. I didn't have to take roll or hand out newsletters today so we all stayed in our jammies and watched Veggie Tales.

In one episode Madame Blueberry has pictures of stuff that she wants and cries about what she doesn't have until some chives show up in suits telling her they are the owners of Stuffmart and she just needs more stuff to be happy. On their way to Stuffmart they see a little girl vegetable with her beatnik looking parents and it's her birthday. She has one piece of pie and a candle in it. They live in a hovel. The little girl looks around at what little she has and could be sad but instead she sings,

I thank God for this day,
For the sun in the sky,
For my mom and my dad,
For my piece of apple pie!

For our home on the ground,
For His love that's all around,
That's why I say thanks every day!

Madame Blueberry and the chives continue on to Stuffmart and stock up. While eating there they see a little boy who wants a big toy train but his Dad tells him they can't afford it. He says that they can get a ball, though. The little train kid sings another verse of the Thankfulness Song and that's when I start to cry. The blueberry's house gets so full of stuff it is destroyed and she ends up sharing pie with the beatnik family and her butlers. Then she sings a verse of the song.

So for the rest of the day we have been making up our own verses. "I am thankful for my pug, for the cocoa in my mug, for the brand new kitchen rug, but not that Bellsa has a bug..." You get the idea. We were just having fun, but I really am thankful for so, so, so many things. I am terrible at standing up in front of people and bearing my testimony, I do the ugly cry thing. It's horrifying. But I would like to share my testimony, just not in a way that makes me want to pee my pants.

When my heart began to change and I began this process, I made a commitment. I realized that I had botched things up for myself so horribly that I was no longer allowed to be "in charge". I realized I was not able to run my life because I didn't know what God knew. I was making choices based on my very limited knowledge and if I could be humble and have faith, I could run my life on God's infinite knowledge instead. I vowed that no matter what the end result, be it good or even be it bad, I would spend the rest of my life inside of the church and following the gospel. So here I am, and everything from that moment on has changed. Slowly and painfully, but it has changed. I do get upset and frustrated that my life isn't the same as other people's. That I don't live in a nice new beautiful house, that I don't get to stay home with my kids, that I can't seem to get pregnant by the man that I'm actually married to. But I also have moments where I am simply overwhelmed by all of the good things. I found the right guy finally, he's loads of fun and a lot better looking than I would have asked for. I have two great kids that are just so much fun and in spite of my not being home with them are great kids and have good hearts and are witty and smart. I have found wonderful people to take care of them, Jessica Harrison, Amanda Bakly and my Mom. My Mom has become active in the church and is almost unrecognizable as a person. The ex-lesbian reverend mother goes to AA every week and works in the temple every Saturday and reads the Book of Mormon with her sister every day.

The atonement is real. It is the ultimate wellness program. The church itself is true, I accepted the calling of Relief Society Secretary at the end of last year and since that time I have experienced a huge pouring down of blessings on me and my family. The gospel principles are true. I have always paid my tithing first before any other bill as a way of showing my gratitude to God and time and again I found that I am never without money. I can get down to three dollars in my account and money will come in from somewhere the next day. I turned down a movie gig that I always wanted but felt just wasn't something I could be involved with as someone in the RS Presidency, as cheesy as that may sound. I just couldn't be making calls looking for negliges and hookah pipes while scheduling new member visits and enrichment activities. I was blessed with a new client the month I should have begun production on the film and I have made three times what I would have on that film and we are on track to be out of debt by June in the middle of the worst economic downturn since the great depression. It stuns me to think about. We finally have a plan of attack for the construction that needs to take place on our house and the means by which to begin it this Summer and hopefully have it done by the end of this year or at least Spring of 2011. We are building something. And it didn't happen all over night, it didn't happen in a year, it's happening little by little over the course of many years but it IS happening. I am so grateful that I made that commitment. That I decided to just...try. I'm not perfect, God knows I am SOOOO far from perfect, I just try. It's 100 percent about not giving up. It's about having some steps to take that make it so that you are not sinking and not on a treadmill, but slowly going forward and upward. Even if I am going two steps forward and one step back, I am trending upwards.

I know without a single solitary question that these things that I have been afforded in my life are gifts from God. I listened to the still small voice and found a great man, a great job and a great neighborhood. I followed council and now have a great career, great kids and a calling that is waaay over my head but I love intensely and blesses my family. I have a mother that does provide the kind of advice that my Patriarchal Blessing says I will receive from her. (It told me to listen to the council of my mother and I was just sure it was a mistake.)

God can see around corners. Bad things happen to us, sometimes because of the bad choices of people that have lost the spirit or because of the natural consequences of our own choices and actions. God blesses us at these times with strength and hope. If we maintain in faith, in His own due time, He blesses the faithful with the desires of their hearts, as long as our will is aligned with His. My life is unquestionable proof of that. It really is.

I am thankful for my spouse,

and our silly mold filled house.

For our dog and our cat,

and our hamsters, fish and that,

we are all doing well,

even though this house is hell.

That's why I say thanks every day!

Alexander.

2010-02-11T11:18:00.001-08:00

I told Brett that Alexander had died and he said that he knew that he was a fashion guy but wasn't sure who he was really... I told him it was like waking up to find that LeBron James had died. Love him or hate him he was an icon. There are not words, but there are pictures.

Alexander was rumored to have stitched the words "I am a ____" in the sleeve of a jacket for Prince Charles so I think Diana probably was pleased to see him.

RIP you magician.

2009. Whatever.

2009-12-29T16:10:00.000-08:00

The year in 08 started out with my dear Grandfather Kuhlmann passing away. We all clamored to the top of a hill in Iowa in the bitter January cold to pay our respects and I could hear him saying with a chuckle, "Buck up!" He was a huge influence in my life. I couldn't believe it had already been a year since he passed away.

My parents separated for the first time when I was in 1st grade. My Mother moved us kids to a town called Ida Grove which is about twenty minutes away from my Dad's parent's farm in Charter Oak. Around then my Grandfather gave us pigs. A litter of piglets. We would go and see them and I think Jen gave them their shots once or twice. But when "our" pigs went to slaughter he gave us the money that came from those pigs. And with that money I paid for a BMX bike called the 5 Cats' Meow that I dearly loved and was teased mercilessly for once we moved to Utah. (On the front cross bar a plate read Cat's Meow with the big number 5, like this yellow one to the right reads, MX12.) Later on, during a trip to visit us, Grandpa asked to walk me to school. But once we got there he said, "Let' just keep walking." I was pretty late but I still to this day remember that walk vividly. We talked about my teachers and friends and lilac bushes. Later in life Grandpa taught me to put my paint brushes in the freezer. The fact that he told me that made me feel special. He had filed that information away just for me. I was in his head, Grandpa thought about me. The trip out to Iowa for his funeral was amazing and rekindled the absolute awe I have for my (Step) Grandmother Doris. I wish sometimes I shared her genes because I think she is the most amazing of all women. She used to have her menus typed and taped up on the cupboard door in her office on the farm, a week in advance. She's brilliant. I was able to keep in touch with her some in 09 and that was a big huge blessing to me.

At some point in 09 we managed to get a big trailer, thanks to the kindness of neighbors, and fill it with moldy drywall and wood trim that I wrapped up with plastic and had sitting in the basement. I also had the pleasure of scraping the asbestos off the ceilings and painting the floor of the TV room. We also did manage to get some much needed help with the kitchen this year when a production company shooting an infomercial used our house to shoot before and afters. They paid for the afters. And they even left us some extra drywall that we can use in the downstairs. After they were here I did have to repaint the kitchen, stairs and hallway but I am so glad I did because the colors are better than before by a landslide. We felt silly having a brand new kitchen with old yucky appliances so we put some new stainless ones on the old RC Willey card and eventually paid that off some months later. We all got in the car and drove to the store to make the last payment and had a family cheer afterwards. Now people are telling me they see me in the Multi-Master infomercial in TV on Sunday mornings. I am intentionally avoiding seeing it for myself.

Brett and I turned down our dreams this year. Yep. Nothing that the both of us have ever wanted more in life than to be in the movie business and we were {} this close in 09. But we said, "No." It was an easy decision for me to make because I have learned the hard way (multiple times) that the price for doing something you don't feel is right is astronomical. And after reading the script I just couldn't imagine doing it. I was called to be the Relief Society Secretary and I couldn't imagine calling people about doing their Visiting Teaching and then turning around and calling prop houses looking for hookah pipes. I'm conflicted enough already being the only one in the presidency that says curse words.

We still have not gotten pregnant but we are enjoying our kitty Jane who is the only cat in America I am not allergic to, a beta fish and a couple of new Robo hamsters. And we're leaving it at that.

The house is still an unholy wreck. We haven't replaced the front door or re-tiled the shower or fixed the deck stairs Pugmann fell through. But I did get in with a new production company that works me a lot and that I love and is challenging. Because their biggest client is a company that does videos in ASL, I am learning to sign. It's been amazing and I agree with the RS President that I am being blessed with work for taking my calling. It's without question a gift from God to be able to work this much so we can maybe make headway on the house in 2010. We also found through Facebook an old friend of mine that owns a company that can help cut mortgage payments way down for those that can prove hardship. Like say for instance, you buy a house and find mold, and are suddenly staring at 30 grand worth of re-modeling work that needs to be done. That kind of hardship.

My beloved Grandma Virginia passed away. I still can't hear certain hymns without breaking into tears. Thank goodness the women in Relief Society are understanding and let me bawl. I miss her more than I can say and think about her every day. I'm so happy that my life carries her influence in everything I do and think about and the way I look at life. Her funeral was not the peaceful, happy thing that my Grandfather's was but I am trying to think more about the times we had together and less about the things said at her funeral. I was blessed to have my distant "cousin" Tiffany there holding my hand through much of it. I am just amazed at the peace and comfort she was able to bring, she was an angel through it all. She is probably an angel to a lot of people, she's just like that.

My good friend Chelsey and I started a web-site called Black Honey Vintage that neither one of us has time to maintain, but man, we try. And maybe one day when our ships roll in we will buy some employees to run it since we can't seem to find the time. It is like my costuming for the Thrillionaires...always on the back burner but the thing I would rather be doing if I had my druthers.

The kids are great, of course, and growing. They are both hilarious. Aidan wants to be a game designer and Bella wants to be a cheerleader. Aidan picked up snowboarding and Bella had her first dance classes. They are pretty much raised by Amanda Bakly but Brett has been trying to take more work hours at home so they can, too. Brett was recently cast as the Steve Martin character in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels and he's SO excited about that next year. I am excited to see how that is gonna work into my job schedule and Relief Society tasks. Not sure I will go because it's not the biggest turn on seeing your spouse act like Ruprecht. I imagine.

So in 09 nothing burned to the ground, although I caught the new oven on fire cooking Christmas yams. Nothing seemed to fix itself overnight. No one became a movie star. (Sorry, babe.) But the kids are well and whole. And I think I just might have two more angels on my side, on the other side, so I'm hoping for 2010 to be miraculous. I need a miracle. My resolution is to quit drinking Coke Zero.

When I Was Young, It Seemed That Life Was So Wonderful, a Miracle. Oh It Was Beautiful, Magical.

2009-12-12T19:15:00.000-08:00

The day after Christmas in 1991 I was given a pair of hiking boots, a Patagonia windbreaker, a Cannondale and my walking papers. My boyfriend broke up with me the day after Christmas because he didn't want me to always think of Christmas as the day we broke up. I could see that these gifts were supposed to be my consolation prizes. But the guy said to me before he would hand over the bike, and this is rich, he said that he didn't want me to have the bike unless I was going to use it. And he meant it. Who says, "I'd like to give you this sweater as a Christmas gift but only if you swear will really, really wear it." What-ever.

I was so bound and determined that Mr Mister was going to find out about my riding the crap out of that bike, that I committed to it. I had visions of me being the next Julie Furtado and Mr just shaking his head, saying, "I didn't think she had it in her. I was so, so wrong." I had no other goal in life but this, to make him eat his words.

I began to pray. My Grandmother Jenkins told me she used to pray for her talents to be magnified. I had a basic concept of what I thought this meant. So when I wasn't laying on the floor crying to God and begging that Mr's junk would fall off for leaving me for someone else, I prayed that my cycling would be magnified. I began to ride. I lived in the foothills at the time but began on the street. The first time out riding, I was pushing my bike up a hill that I couldn't go up. Instead of telling myself this would never, ever work and I should just give up, which is kind of my Modus Operandi, I thought, "This will get easier. This is how it begins." And I just calmly talked myself into investing the time that it would take to get better.

One day my ex's mother came over to my house. She sat down in the living room to talk with my grandmother, my mother and I and she gave me a picture of Jesus. She said that she knew that things were hard for me right now, but that Jesus could be my husband. I had no idea what she was talking about. Nuns married Jesus. We were Mormon. So I got back on my bike. Those times when I felt alone and wanted to sit in my room, listen to Gladys Knight and smoke endless cigarettes, I got on my bike. When I had to go to work, I would ride my bike. When I had to go to school at UVU, I rode there. I started to venture off -road. I lost weight and gained muscle. Two of my best guy friends, Eric and Jim, began to ride with me and we had an insane amount of fun. We went everywhere on our bikes. One day Jim said, "Let's go to Will's Pit Stop and get a drink." So we headed down Quail. I was in cut off jean shorts and a wide Axl Rose bandanna like all the tools wear now. I remember because as we pulled in, I saw the old familiar gray Volvo in the lot. It was too late to warn Jim. He was already ahead of me and parking his bike. Mister and his girlfriend were coming out of the store. And I happened to be heading right for them. They greeted me with warm hugs, stopped to chat and Kristen was kind enough to show me her ring. I noticed it was the exact style Mr told me that he had always wanted to give to his fiance. I pretended to be really, really happy for them. I must have said goodbye. I'm sure I went in and got a drink. I must have ridden home with Jim. Though I can't recall any of that part. But I remember what her hand looked like with that ring on it.

I began to ride with a team and pick up local races. I had an emergency appendectomy and was told not to get on my bike for 6 weeks. I got on my bike after 4. I split some stitches but I was addicted. After glancing outside my bedroom window one afternoon, and seeing my uncle tooling around in the street on my bike, I found her, Little Nel, a new place to live other than the garage. I put her up over my bed. We were always together. She was my replacement husband.

My singles ward and the ward my ex was in were sister wards and this being the 90's they planned a joint activity trip to Moab. We were all going down to go ride Slickrock. This was my chance, I thought. I knew I hadn't been racing in anything that would be covered in Mtn Bike Action and as such the chance of my ex actually knowing anything about my cycling was pretty slim, so I placed all of my hope on the chance that he may have friends still in the ward that might miraculously spread the word about this to him. If I could kill everyone on this ride, it might possibly make it back to him. It was a long shot, but I had nothing else. I had to do it. I had to beat them all. The guy organizing the joint activity was a friend's brother and he was a serious rider. She told me he and a group of others were meeting at the first gate around like 9 in the morning. They were the contenders. The casual riders were leaving later, around 11. I was with a couple of friends and we got to the first gate at Slickrock to wait for the contender group. I went over the little cow catcher grate at the first gate and my chain right broke. No problem, right? Easy to fix. I unzipped my seat pack. No chain tool. I ask my group, no chain tools. No one. I ask riders going by, I ask riders in the parking lot. I ask the group of contenders when they show up to ride. No chain tool. No. One. Has. A. Chain. Tool. I have to go to Bill 'em and Rob 'em.

Bill and Rob own the best, most expensive and for a while the only, Bike Shop in Moab. Remember, again, early 90's. So what I am suddenly faced with is the knowledge that I have to ride into town and hope that I can be back in time to catch up and ride with the non-contenders at 11. So I coast down the hill and push my bike all the way to Rob and Bills shop. I walk in and explain I need a chain tool, and I don't have any money. Now, at the time I really had no idea what I was doing. Asking a couple of overweight middle aged guys to pretty please help me, a 19 year old long haired blond. If I had, I may have asked for a lot more. I thought I was asking for a miracle since I had not a dime on me. As it was, they fixed it for me, asked for nothing in exchange and sent me on my way in a fairly professional manner. (I later took them some beer, I think. Maybe that was another time...) I rode back through town, up the hill and back up to Slickrock. I found out I had missed the second group. A couple of people in the parking lot from my ward had seen them leave about a half hour before I got there. I decided to see if I could catch up with them. After an almost three hour trip into town, I finally embarked on my ride.

The first time I rode Slickrock was with Mister. And we stopped a lot because I was tired or I would hit my front break and go over the handle bars or because we wanted to make-out. It took us, I want to say, four hours-ish. And I remember spending some extra time on two sections that he struggled with. One was a hop-skip over a log onto a little ledge and the other was a big flat steep hill with a top lip that was like a curb. It went straight up. He never did get the log part but after a few tries he managed to get up the hill. I remember afterwards going back to the tent and my legs felt like they had a fever in them. They were hot to the touch and were almost swollen. I was in so much pain.

This time around I was alone, recalling everything again. The log part, the little place where we laid down to rest, the overhang where we sat and smooched a bit. I met up with the non-contender group and said hi to them on my way by. I met stragglers from both wards along the way. I met up with the hill. I killed it my first run. I went on and caught up with the contenders, only to find they seemed to be having some issues with the terrain. They were struggling, those boys. I stayed with them but it was clear, somehow I was better than they were. I passed them and went on to the end. I just kept going and going. I finished up with Slickrock, I want to say, around two hours..? When I finished I thought about what I had just accomplished. I had just pushed Nel into town, I had just ridden miles and miles back up hill only to go on to meet and beat everyone on that ride from both wards. Something in me clicked, and I set it down. I set down my bike and I set down the whole desire I had to prove anything to my ex. I didn't get over him then, but I got over me not getting over him. I rode some after that but it just wasn't the same. I didn't have anyone to ride for. No one to prove anything to. I had proved I could do it. I knew I could have beaten Mister and his arrogant little riding buddies and I would have done it handily. It was all over. Eventually I cut and dyed my hair and became angry and started drinking. I grew calloused over and one day when I was in bad spot for rent I sold Little Nel to some business man. It killed me to do it.

A couple marriages and kids happened over time and now I am here in the present day and Julia and I are talking about getting into shape. This brings up all kinds of things for me, because the last time I did so it was because I was heart broken and angry and frustrated and sad. I was taking out my frustrations about not being in control and not being good enough for someone and for loving someone that didn't believe in me. Now I will be getting in shape so I do not have to post a picture of myself in a bikini on Facebook. So I am trying to tell myself I will be doing it to prove that I am not too old, that I can do whatever it is I set my mind to and that I can remember how to ride a bike. It's just like, well...it's own self. At the end of this fitness challenge that runs from Jan to the end of May, I want to go to Slickrock and ride it. And I hope to go up that super hard hill again, and go over the place where I passed the contenders. And I hope to do it better and faster and stronger than ever before because I am older and wiser and I will have brought a chain tool. We'll have to see how it goes. I'll keep you posted.

Ironing a Record

2009-11-12T18:27:00.000-08:00

I have this really faded memory. The kind that may have been a dream, may have actually happened, may have been seen on TV. It is of a record that was left in the sun in the back window of a car. And the thing got so hot that it melted into a wavy bubbly oval, like a tortilla cooking. When my Grandma Virginia wanted to do the impossible she would call it "ironing a record". Being a visual person, I always loved the mental picture of my Grandma in an apron with an ironing board and an old warped 45.

When I was living in the Avenues in Salt Lake one Sunday these women came in from another ward and did a little skit in Relief Society. One of them had THE highest stilettos I have ever seen at church. At some point the woman leaned over the table to pretend to answer the phone and her high heel caught in the crocheted table covering. I was frozen. She was inches away. Do I stand up and stop her and unloosen her heel and make them start the skit over? Does she know she's caught? And around the time I am processing, sure enough, her heel slices right through and tears a hole in it a foot long and wide. It is a handmade work of art. I am now sick to my stomach. She makes a surprised and horrified face before she sits down for the rest of the meeting. I can't think of anything else but this tablecloth.

At the end of the meeting I stay in my place waiting for all of the female traffic to sort of thin out. A woman comes over to the table to clear it off. She reverently picks up the tablecloth and folds it up, then turns right to me and says, "I don't even know how to fix this. Do you know someone that can fix this?" And I say, "I can," and hold out my arms. She sort of jumps back and then hands it to me. I am not sure why I said it, it was only a hunch I could do it, but I felt I could. So I take it home and get out a needle and thread. I pick up the torn strands, figure out where they connect in the pattern and then sew them up. When I was done, I could still tell where it had been torn. I was kind of sad so I put it down and walked away from it. (Something Grandma taught me...) The next day when I looked at it again I didn't know where the tear was anymore, I couldn't find it. I was marveled. What really are the odds the woman would turn and ask that question right to the person who could fix it? 1/60? What are the odds I would be sitting right there in that seat? 1/2,000? What are the odds I would even be in Salt Lake, or in that ward, on that day? 1/18,000,000,000,000?? God...is great.

When people ask me what I do, I really have no answer. It depends on the shoot. 'Technically" I do make-up and props and wardrobe for commercials so my title usually reads, "Art Director" on the crew sheet. But really each shoot is a unique set of problems that I get to try and solve. Like a puzzle. Or a riddle. I used to work retail and the necklaces used to turn into a rat king in shipping sometimes and I was the only volunteer to untangle the messes. I loved it. Today it dawned on me, I am a record ironer. I had two illegitimate kids and was a dead broke single mom who was working three jobs and trying to go to school, now I am a happily employed happily married mother of two beautiful kids sealed to their Dad in the temple. I used to be a half a pack a day smoker with a loose grasp on the definition of integrity and now I'm a Relief Society Secretary. (For 1.75 GPA me, that is a big deal.) I used to live in homes of strangers and at the mercy of friends and move from place to place at least twice a year and now I am a homeowner thanks to the spirit that helped me find a silly house for a song in my great old neighborhood. And all of these things about me that I am making sound so awesome do not belong to me. Be clear about this, if I am awesome at any of these things, if I have a moment where I am an awesome Mom or a great cook or a compassionate listener, it is because of my Grandmother. Her genes and her influence and her testimony and her prayers. It's not mine to brag over, any of it. My good qualities, my happy life, my love of God, all belong to her. I love her. I cherish her. I will miss her.

This is the Right Place. To Freak Out.

2009-10-22T15:40:00.000-07:00

I had the privilege and honor of being asked to shoot with Tyler Gourley for Deseret Book. I think Tyler is one of the most talented photographers in Utah and I have not worked for Deseret Book since the Jericho Road days. So I was totally excited when I was asked to come help shoot for their catalog at This is the Place State Park. Until I heard the ghost stories. Then I wanted to leave.

I have never in my life been up to This is the Place State Park. If you also have not, I suggest you go up there and take the kids. You can tell it's for kids by the font. It looks the same as the font used by The Children's Place clothing store. I hardly think that's a coincidence. I thought TITPSP was going to be a big statue of some Mormon dudes and their oxen sprinkled with seagull poop parked somewhere off the freeway. I had no idea there was a whole actual town, called Heritage Village. (It's right next to the big statue of some Mormon dudes and their oxen sprinkled with bird poop.)

In Heritage Village there are these beautiful historical buildings from all over the state that have been picked up and carefully tiptoed to this new resting place. They have furniture from their famous deceased homeowners and/or their time periods and the rooms are all made up as if they are being lived in currently. They are all very historically accurate and super fascinating. Especially for people who love aesthetics. So all of us could not help but to look around at things in between getting our shots. In the Heber C Kimball house there were some cool instruments, a funky chair made out of horns and a haunted doll. Yep. A rag doll that allegedly moves around on it's own whilst you navigate about the house. According to Diamond Jim, who is an expert on the place and a tour guide, the doll will be laying on the bed until you go downstairs, where you may then see it at the piano. Or sitting at the kitchen table. Or by the china cabinet. But this is not the only reported haunting. One time a little girl told her Dad she wouldn't go up the stairs with him. She was at the bottom of the staircase. He turned at the second to top stair and asked her what her problem was. She pointed to his pant leg and said something about not wanting to go near the child by his side. He then felt a distinct tugging on his pant leg and watched his jeans actually move, even though he could not see anything there.

I thought that was a quaint story and imagined the kind of attention starved people that must have made something like that up. Then we wrapped out our day and went home. The next day we were to be shooting in the park again. I woke up super early and got ready. I was drinking my hot cocoa in the Jeep when I turned the radio to 101.9 The End. They were doing their annual ghost hunters radio show where they bring people in from the Ghost Investigators Society or Ghost Hunters Club or whatever it's called. They do this for a few hours during October so they can tell stories about their ghostie adventures. They begin the show by playing a bunch of EVPs. These are taped recordings of ghost voices that can not be heard with the "naked ear". I never think they are accurate. Like if they say to the audience, "In this EVP you will hear a little child say, "Don't leave me!"" I always think its sounds like an old woman saying, "Cleveland." This year it is no different. Then they begin to talk about This is the Place State Park. And they all agree it's one of the most haunted places in Utah. So I turn it up, because I am on I-15 headed North. And Jimmy Chunga, AKA Brett Smith, tells a story about Cort getting hit with a ball of light and feeling really dark and gross, in the same exact spot a guy in years past had his wrist broken. Then a woman calls in and says she believes the park is haunted because her child saw another child that wasn't there and it happened by the white schoolhouse. And the hairs on my neck stand up. I pull into the entrance of the park. I see Tyler and his assistant Cody driving towards me. They tell me that they will stop by the building we are going to shoot at, so I should just follow them. I roll up my window and we start up a dirt road. Chunga is now talking about a night of ghost hunting at the State Park in the Andrus Halfway House. He was with a woman that is supposed to be a certified psychic. The two of them went into one of the upstairs bedrooms, he even got specific as to which one but I don't recall it now, and they suddenly felt cold and odd. He said the temperature in the room dropped like 40 degrees in fifteen seconds. Chunga then turned to see a little boy in tweed knee pants run past him and go straight into the wall. The psychic just dropped to her knees and began to cry. I assume she also wet herself and released her bowels. I would have.

I am now driving through the park with my mouth open holding my cup of cocoa. We stop. I look to my right and there is the white schoolhouse. To my left? The Andrus Halfway House. I park and knock on Tyler's car window. I tell them to turn on 101.9. They catch the last of the story so I fill them in on the first part. We listen to them talk some more about other spooky experiences people have had there and we turn off our cars. I tell the guys that the building Chunga was talking about is *right there*. We all go up to the fence. It's not helping that it is all decorated for Halloween. They have a big HUGE haunted affair there, you can go around and look in the houses and the little orchards are full of fake bodies and stuff. It's cool. And they had begun the decorating THAT DAY. So we go look in the windows of the Andrus house and it's about one third of the way finished being decorated. Just as I glide along the porch casually looking in the windows, Cody steps away from one and reveals a dummy pressed up against the glass. I jump and squeal. A carnal sin. You never let other crew see your petticoat. It's like film rule 101. The rest of the day the guys keep setting me up and scaring me. We move from building to building taking care of our set ups and our shots. We'd turn the corner and see a pioneer walking towards us with a musket or a woman in a long skirt and aprons and I'd wonder what it would be like if I knew they weren't real.

It became a little old, the haunted thing, by mid afternoon. We left the main part of the park for Brigham Young's farmhouse. It's pink. It's a big pink gingerbread house. Which I venture to guess is why he never actually lived there. It was used instead for events and visiting dignitaries. We entered the thing and were greeted by a large sweet man. He told us about the house, it's purposes and it's ghost. One of the wives, Ann Eliza, loved the house. She was the only wife of Brigham's to divorce him. (I guess if you play the odds, even a prophet, and even back in those days, you're bound to lose one...) Anyway Ann Eliza did not like people in her house. He said that during a previous Halloween he was setting up a CD player for sound effects as part of the spook display. He left the room and came back to hear it playing. He turned the thing off and left again to carry in more things for the display. He entered, only to hear it playing again. This time he unplugged it. And it still turned back on. People use the building for receptions and parties and a lot of people claim to have seen a woman at the sink looking out the window or hear footsteps on the floor above. The footsteps thing may not be so impressive. I could hear what the people upstairs were wearing the floor was so touchy, but the woman at the window thing? Yeah. So again, we begin to set up our shots. I go out to my car and get my tool boxes but before I cross the threshold back into the house I spiritually ask Ann Eliza if it's OK if I come back in. I make it clear I want her permission, out of respect. And then I assume she says yes because I come inside. I clean her windows. I pick up all of the trash I drop. I make sure I don't leave behind any dirt from my shoes. I put everything back where it belongs and even fix and fluff the pillows on the couches in a drawing room we never went into. Because what could be scarier than an angry German ex-wife ghost? I plan on being one myself one day. Cody double dog dares me to go down a pitch black stairway that leads to a locked door to the basement. I feel like I have to make up for the womanish squeal on the porch of the Halfway house, so I do it. I am surprisingly not scared. I tell myself it's because I have been respectful of Ann Eliza and she likes me. When we write up phony names for a prop FHE chalkboard. I thoughtfully assign Ann Eliza a task. I think she was in charge of the opening prayer. We wrap up our day by watching the sun come down over the various workers prepping the park and even shoot one cool shed full of bloody broken dolls hanging from their necks. We stand in the gravel parking lot and talk about everything but spooky stuff. By now we are not into it anymore. We are sick of the topic. We stand in the parking lot and chat about people we know and how great a time we had and how we hope to be able to shoot for Deseret Book again because they are just really cool down to earth people to work for and then we say our goodbyes.

I stop for gas at the Chevron off 7th East. There is a super scruffy older guy in his car about to leave, but then sees me walking into the station and stops. He turns off his car, gets out of the vehicle, and stands on the sidewalk, staring. I put my hand behind me and make an unfriendly gesture then place it on my butt. If he looks there, he deserves to see it. I go in and get a drink and pay for my gas. I walk past the guy that now stands in my way. I get past him. He then turns 180 degrees to watch me walk back to my car. I grab my keys in my hand like a weapon. Just in case. I pump my gas while this Bozo stands there and stares at me without any hint of subtlety at all. I imagine that in this guy's POV I am like a Tweety bird that turns into a roast bird on a plate. I finish pumping, sprint into my car and lock the doors. I pull through the lot and see that the guy gets back into his car and finally pulls out going in my opposite direction. That was easily the scariest thing to happen to me the whole day. I believe certain people do see ghosts. I am sure they have a gift or a talent for it. I do not. I don't think I see ghosts because I tend to believe they are nothing special, really. They are just normal people like me, that just happen to be dead on the outside. I'm afraid I'm just not afraid of them. I am afraid of people that are dead on the inside.

There's No Place Like 710 E 3950 N

2009-09-22T15:11:00.000-07:00

So I finally did it. I applied to Oprah. Most of you know the story of our house. For those of you that don't, I will try and sum up...

We were renting a duplex house in the Avenues in Salt Lake. One day our little Bella, who was 2, found a crack pipe at Wendy's. This (and a few other things) told us it was time to move. But with the market at it's peak we couldn't even afford a cardboard box behind a warehouse next to the freeway in SLC. So we looked south. For three weeks we looked. And by we, I mean me. After finding no-thing, Brett hired a realtor. The very next day he called me and said he had a house that was in the exact neighborhood that we said was our ideal and was STILL in our price range. We were floored. Then we learned why. The house had been a rental for 20 years. The Elders quorum had put a roof on it. Twice. The gutters were clinging onto the house for dear life. There were plastic Easter baskets full of DIRT outside. Not potting soil...dirt.

We scheduled a walk through. The renters were hoarders. We couldn't get a complete inspection because of all the stuff. We were told not to worry about a mold inspection because in Utah it was an unnecessary expense. We were told more inaccurate things. We prayed a lot. We argued with our realtor and asked a lot of questions. We eventually bought the house.

The occupants had a month's heads up regarding the date we were to move in. They started moving ten days before they had to be out. Neighbors from all over came together to help them move, but the family turned people away. They didn't like the way they were handling their possessions. Their little girl cried when someone threw away a used band-aid. (True story.) They called us and asked us if it was OK to keep some things in the garage until they could sort through it. We said sure. We showed up to take ownership and there was just stuff everywhere. The lawn was totally covered, the back yard, the deck, the garage, the shed. We have the video tape. They would come and make trips occasionally but it wouldn't even put a dent in what was out there. They even left their dog in the backyard for three days.

After they moved out I re-finished the wood floors upstairs while the roofers put on a new bituminous membrane eco-roof. (What I like to call "our white fondant" roof.) I pushed a drum sander and used my knees to fight with the orbital edge sander until about 2am, slept in my clothes on the floor in the kitchen then woke up before the roofers arrived. I sanded some more, took back the equipment, drove to Salt Lake and loaded up our moving van. I thought it was the hardest thing I would ever have to do. Me and my silly pants.

I found mold. I had suspected something was up. When we tore out the carpet the smell was abominable. The carpet strips were black and just crumbled to dust when I tried to pry them out. I put mold in the back of my head and kept plugging away, in denial. And then the fateful day came when I pulled off the baseboards. I could see the bottom edge of drywall and it was black. I poked at it with a crowbar and it hissed at me. I backed away, and went upstairs and made dinner. I said nothing to Brett. I went back down there not long after (maybe a few days?) and decided I could handle the truth. I pulled a corner of the paneling off completely and saw the mold going up about two feet on the drywall. I tore off all the trim, all of the baseboards and all of the paneling in that first room. The mold was on three of the four walls. It was heaviest where the water valve is. Didn't take a scientist to see it must have burst at one time and the damage was not taken care of properly. I tore EVERYTHING out of another three rooms. I found it on all the walls. Especially in the bathroom, where it rotted clean through the drywall. The vanity was so rotted it was being held together by luck and sunshine. I pulled the marble off the back splash like a static cling sock. When it came to scraping the asbestos off the ceiling I didn't even have to wet it down. It came off because I asked it to nicely. We sealed off the rooms with duct tape and plastic and only spoke of it in hushed tones. We dealt with it slowly over time.

Everything about this house has been bigger, uglier, worser and more expensive than we ever imagined. It's been two years of Googling "replacing rotted sub-flooring" and learning how to lay hardy-backer on YouTube and re-wiring upside down plugs and learning to read the mold classification tests and parts per million in oxygen ratios and researching how asbestos was used in construction from library books and trying to paint over tar adhesive on concrete because everyone seems to know it won't come off with any solvent known to man.

And I would never leave it. We love this neighborhood. I can see how this house is perfect for us. In all of the ways that really matter, it's perfect. The neighborhood kids all come down to our TV room to play because they know there is nothing precious there. They kick around and play swords. The kids love the backyard because it's like a big weedy wilderness. We are not so close to Timp Drive that I am nervous and our next door neighbor is a Single Mom. I was a single Mom. I know what that means. There are like 15 boys, 14 dogs and 13 girls on our street. When we left Salt Lake there were six kids in the Primary and three didn't come to church. We promised the kids there would be so many kids where we were going that they could open the doors of the house and kids would fall in. We said they could dock a jet ski in all of the children where we were going. I know we were guided to this house. I know God is good all of the time and this is too big for me. I know that he knows that some how it will come together and one day we will live in all of it, not just part of it. I know that it's really a miracle we even have a house at all considering where, and whom, Brett and I come from. Even a house held together by cobwebs and innuendo. So don't even worry. Oprah is gonna be all over this. And if we don't hear back, I'm totally applying to Deal or no Deal.

Torn out drywall.

There is not enough CLR in the world for what is growing down there in the corner of the picture.

This is new. Plumber did this to fix the three year old leak in the shower. See first pic.

That last step is a doosey.

Where Nigel Pugmann fell through the stairs. After being hit by a car he needs special assistance minding the gap.

Hey, we got this far! Don't kid yourself, that drywall is just resting there. Heaven forbid there be a strong wind. Note: Love the brick wallpaper in the closet? Love the torn out drywall, too?

Thumbs up.

Nigel and Me.

2009-08-11T22:02:00.000-07:00

Covered in dog hair and blood, I had a moment. And while I was having it I was very conscious of the fact that it was not special. Everyone feels this way about their dogs. They drive you nuts until something happens to them.

A bunch of boys were over here playing on the Wii. Bella and I were finding back-to-school clothes on the computer. Aidan asked suddenly, "Who's bleeding?" We looked at the floor and there was blood all over, like someone had a bloody nose and walked it around the room. We followed the trail, all five of us, and it led to Nigel Pugmann sitting under a chair with his foot limply dangling there, bleeding and swollen. Aidan got a towel, I grabbed the dog and called Brett and we all went straight to the Vet. Who was closed. So we went to another Vet, who wouldn't take him. But if they weren't helpful at least they took forever. Brett got the most absurdly detailed directions from a woman at the front desk who's assistant just handed us a freaking card with a map on it for the Pet ER on 8th N. Meanwhile I am trying to hold him down and there is blood just everywhere. We finally arrived and a nice woman who smelled like so many Camel Lights helped us. She said he most likely was hit by a car. His foot was smooshed. He lost a foot pad, two toe nails, broke a toe, chipped the bone at the "knee" and dislocated a ligament, which is why his foot went all loosey goosey. He got weighed and we tried to take his (ahem) rectal temperature to no avail. So he got sedated, x-rayed, some cleaning solution for his ears and a little blue cast. He got a bunch of pills he won't take and then sent home.

I was holding our little broken guy in a towel on the way to the hospital when I realized he might actually have internal damage for all I knew and that he could maybe actually bite the black banana. I told him he was a good dog and we loved him and I found that I kind of meant it. Most days we, and by "we" I mean "I", hate this dog. He chews his feet loudly, he licks the wood floors obsessively, he is always underfoot. He sheds, he stinks, he barks at the birds and sneezes in our faces. And we wouldn't be the same family without him. Like Aidan said, "Who else would we all hate for being so dumb?"

We love you, Nigel. Thanks for not being as stupid as we think you are. You were at least smart enough to move a crucial 6 inches in one direction to save your own fat butt.

The State of Utah.

2009-08-06T17:21:00.000-07:00

So I read a post from some lady. I will not be more specific. Someone that I follow on Twitter posted a link to it, so I clicked on it and read some. I felt like a few things about it were just...off. She was trying to defend the Church's treatment of women. Which is a good thing, I guess. But am I crazy in writing a post saying that we shouldn't post about this stuff? Yeeep.

She read an article against the Mormon Church's treatment of women. Not sure why. If you find it offensive, quit reading it. Like I did with her post. (I am told that later on she makes herself clear, but I chose to stop reading. Because I thought she made herself pretty clear in the beginning and middle.) She writes about how women are not in fact ever told by the Mormon Church to be subservient, like this article suggests, and then to prove her point she goes on to quote what our covenant actually IS in the temple. Now, I'm new around here, but I'm pretty sure they make it nutty clear that's not super cool. Also, she says that the wording in the covenant is purely ceremonial, really. And anyway she doesn't know any families really like that and what she believes is that women are really in charge. Like, *wink*.

She also then goes on to say that she can't speak for Utah women because she doesn't know what it's like in Utah homes. But she is pretty sure that, and I quote, "When President Gordon B. Hinckley speaks out in General Conference about Mormons not being arrogant about all they believe and have, I believe he's talking to Utah. (Because when you are a minority as a Mormon, you can't afford to be arrogant about it.)"

Aaaand that's where I quit reading. Because...what the crap?

Once when I went to a Fast and Testimony meeting in Colorado I couldn't believe what I heard. A man stood up and said some very ignorant and rude comments about Utah Mormons. It was the first time I had even heard of the concept of a "Utah" Mormon. I totally thought we were all in this together. But the loving and smart member I was with just went over and told him he appreciated his comments and talked to him until the guy asked where my friend was from, and he said proudly, Utah.

So very quickly, because the only way to handle a hot potato is to drop it, I will make my point. To swiftly and effectively defeat an opponent, divide and conquer.

Article of Faith # 13 We believe in being honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and in doing good to all men; indeed, we may say that we follow the admonition of Paul—We believe all things, we hope all things, we have endured many things, and hope to be able to endure all things. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.

And so, trying my hardest to follow this even though it's frikkin hard at this very moment, I'll just say, Amen.

How to lose five pounds in one week.

2009-07-28T15:45:00.000-07:00

Pretend like you say, "Hey, Amelia what have you been up to?"
And I answer, "Painting 400 sq feet of floor, that was covered in tar adhesive, until one in the morning for three days straight."
And you're like, "No way!"
And I go, "Yeah, I did. My 5 year old took pics. Wanna see 'em?"
And you go, "Sure!"

"Gee!" You say. "That looks hard."
I'm all modest so I go, "Naw, not really."
"How did it turn out?"
"Oh, Like this..."

And I'm like, "But don't even worry, we coated it with 2 coats of garage sealant to make it nice and tough. So it lasted all of thirty seconds until we moved the furniture in and ripped the paint off the floor in about ten places."
And like, you don't know what to say about that.
And then I start to cry and stuff.
And then you feel uncomfortable, and I feel bad I made you feel uncomfortable, so then I tell you all about our trip to Lagoon instead.

And then I tell you how I call this my Swim Gown, because it is one. And how I was easily the flattest woman under 39 there. (You laugh. But I can tell it's tinged with pity.)

And here is where you tell me how it looks like my kid is frisking his business through his pockets and I get all embarrassed because he totally is.

And then I tell you how my favorite part of the day was that my kids LOVED pioneer village and could have spent 3 hours there. And you get all jealous cause your kids would rather ride rides and eat cotton candy until they puke off the Jet Star 2.
And I'm like, "Wow...weird."
And then I wind it all up with my saying it was fun to see Jared and have him over and the in-laws are all so fun and we had a really, really good time bonding. So we say goodbye feeling good at the end of our chat. And I don't realize until after you leave I forgot to mention I lost 5 pounds with all of this activity going on. But then I realize that it's probably for the best that I didn't bring it up, 'cause that's super braggy to say and stuff.

Up and Running, Blackhoneyvintage.com

2009-07-15T10:29:00.000-07:00

Chelsey and I are happy to finally announce we have Blackhoneyvintage.com up and running. It made me stop and think about how this vintage obsession that I have ever got started. And I have to credit some of my friends.

When I was in seventh grade my friend Tiff's older sister owned a store on Center St in Provo. Not sure if anyone will recall it, but it was up some stairs over a little diner that was called 534 or something to do with it's address. There were these little enclosed booths you could sit down and eat in. There were always teen hipsters in black clothes and sailor hats hanging out there. The little store had dressing rooms with hand-prints in different colors all over the walls. I thought it couldn't be more awesome. I would spend every dime I had there. Between those things and the stuff I "borrowed" from my Mom I made up a pretty punk-rock wardrobe. And by punk-rock I mean I got made fun of every single day of my life. Wearing lace gloves with a big tweed man's blazer and cuffed jeans is not cool in Provo Utah in November at the bus stop. It's just not. By the time Tiff and the Grow sisters started wearing cool vintage and Tiff started helping me pick cool stuff I was not laughed at so much and school girls started liking the things I wore. One week I wore a stack of gold necklaces with a German cross pinned at the neck of my collared shirt and by the next week it was a fad. I knew the torment would be over. For a few months at least, until I cut off my hair. That's another story...

After the little store closed down I had to get creative and I just borrowed a lot of clothes for the next few years. Until Sue Andrus took me to DI. I used to pass it and wonder what was going on in there, but I assumed it was some kind of storehouse. Like you had to qualify to enter. But Sue just walked in like she belonged there and we left with some of the most amazing vintage jewelry I still have ever seen, for just pennies. (I still have one of the bracelets.) And that was it for me. I remember shopping weekly in the old DI. When the basement was the best part. Back when the glass cases held all the wonders of the world, like Portobello Road. I miss the old DI. I miss the old pricing structure.

Once DI began to carry new items, (the pine furniture they manufacture), they had to restructure their business. Legally they are required to structure and price their merchandise like Target and Kmart. This is why DI no longer has things priced for a quarter, or fifty cents. It's not because the church needs the money. I personally think it stinks for shoppers. They are too overpriced to want to shop there anymore. It's not any fun. I used to find designer merchandise for two and three dollars. Now dresses can be fifteen to twenty bucks and tables, couches a hundred bucks. It's a rare occasion I find something great for the price I want to pay.

DI originally opened directly after the depression. They realized a need to try and pool extra resources from the saints and begin to redistribute these assets. There used to be drives to raise items. Men would come by weekly and haul stuff away. The church used to ask their members to give as much as possible and gave out DI bags to fill. Not we have so much stuff the DI problem is processing it all and figuring out what is garbage and what is not. I do so enjoy DI dumpster diving. (The sorter's idea of trash is not always my idea of trash.) I wish I could go in every day. I should buy their garbage... I'm looking into that.

So, with this love of mine for old things I hope to bring some joy to people who may love old items as well, but not so much the dumpster diving. I get that that part is an acquired taste. I guess I've acquired it.

Dressers and Front Door in Robin's Egg Blue.

2009-07-09T16:03:00.000-07:00

So here are the pictures of the dressers that my friends talked me into keeping. (Like I needed any arm twisting.) I wanted to sell them, but I am just far, far too in love with them. I used this great Benjamin Moore paint that is the only thing I use for furniture anymore.

Here is what they looked like when I brought them home from a community yard sale...

I haven't attached the mirror, yet. It's only one coat short of being done!

I took off all of the pulls and instead of replacing them, I painted them with a special spray paint I have found. 'Cause why tamper with perfection? Some people would think they should do that to update them. Tsk.

Pugmann has to be sure and shake a few hairs in for good luck. Ancient Chinese secret.

And here they are now! Tadadadada do do deeed eed od o ta da ta da tadada dada dada dada da DA!

If you've noticed I have no baseboards, you'd be right! That's #23497 on the to do list.

Aaaand because I loved it so much, I painted my front door this same color.

Wow, I really need to paint my front stoop. It's still covered in glue from the ripped up carpet we pulled off it the day we moved in. I'll add it to the list...#31567...paint...front...stoop.

A day late and...ok a lot of days late...and $500 short.

2009-07-08T10:28:00.000-07:00

Well, I finally got my camera and my computer and the right cords and the right memory card all in the same place at the same time. It wasn't easy. So I now have the pictures from the Multi-Master shoot from what, six months ago? But here you go, if you still care at all.

This is what our kitchen looked like for six weeks. Seven? A lot of weeks.

Boy, did the animals love playing in the debris! They dragged it all over my house.

But don't even worry, the Multi-Master crew is here, now. Shhhh, yeah it's all gonna be OK now.

I think here Kent stepped on a nail. Sorry.

New counter tops going in.

Ooooooh, preeeeety.

I love my farm house sink.

Here are the floors going in. I had to es'plain how the pattern was supposed to go at the last minute. They had it wrong. So it slowed us up a bit. But they did it perfect and now I love them.

Jane is looking out the window wondering where her pile of debris went.

Oh, nope. There it is.

The deck.

There's that darn debris pile. And it looks like it's gotten angry. I don't want to see it angry.

I shouldn't have looked in the garage either.

Six months after the make-over we have had some issues with the speedy nature of the remodel. The sink leaks, the doors underneath are pulling off and apart, the tile settled crooked from us walking on them and we have had a lot of grout loss on the tiles. But for the most part it looks good. CERTAINLY better then it did. And one of the tile workers left us a cool used sweatshirt. So thanks for that.

Since these pictures were taken I have painted the kitchen a softer green in my new favorite thing, Benjamin Moore Matte paint. It's washable flat paint. That's right, you heard me. And I picked a cool "greige" for the hallways and entryway. It hides EVERYTHING. Run, don't walk, out and buy some for your house if you have old and ugly wall texture you need to hide. I vowed to never use anything but Benjamin Moore paint ever again.

Coming up...my new dressers!

Stay tuned!

Thumbs Up.

2009-05-07T14:40:00.001-07:00

I really thought that our illness quota had been filled for this quarter. But no, because Bella started throwing up early Monday morning and that night I got hit with a bad head cold, hard and fast. I had to be on set for two days and endured 48 hours of Swine Flu jokes. As I had suspected I would.

We were shooting these well conceived, if not hastily thrown together, spots for an accident firm called The Advocates. On the second day at lunch I sit with the sound guy, "Hard G" Gerald and Murphy the producer. Murph tells a story about the Mormon conversion of a gay friend of his who was his next-door neighbor. The guy was fully homosexual, out of the closet, the whole she-bang (pardon the pun) and one night while playing Scrooge on stage he internalizes his lines about changing and realizes that it's time for him, that he has to change. So he goes back to the Mormon church and goes through the process of repentance and marries and is re-baptized although not necessarily in that order. And John said this guy was amazing. Just such a fantastic person to be around and at his baptism all of his gay friends are there to support him. And I love that because there is none of that pesky reverse discrimination in this story, not for this guy. Because he is just pure love. And then the guy dies of AIDS some time later.

And then John also tells about his Sister in law who was at the gym working out and starts to get really light headed. And she stops working out and goes into the showers and is really fuzzy in the head. She turns on the shower but it's full blast hot. She passes out right away and sees herself on the ground. And her deceased Mother, (Mother in law?), is standing next to her and says, "It's not your time. You have to turn the water to cold." And somehow she is able to turn it to cold, even though she tries and can't move her right hand. And then she tells her she has to move the water to her head immediately, or she will die. Again, somehow she does this and then wakes up straight away. John says what makes this story amazing is also to know the woman this happened to. She is very pragmatic and not at all new age-y and mystical.

So then I tell about my Dad and the story about the woman in the back seat of the car during the accident he was in on New Years Eve in college. Their car was hit head on by a group of drunk kids. My Dad's first wife was killed. The woman in the back seat said she could see the people trying to work on them, the cops and medics but she also saw a bunch of people around that she knew were not being seen by anyone but her. I wondered in that moment if I was there...

We were then called back to set. Gerald and I kept talking about angels on our SLOW walk back and I told him about how my Mother talks about them a lot and how I had a close friend that used to, also. When I was first back in the church I challenged my friend. I asked her if she really believed in Angels, the whole harp and wings crap. She was surprised I didn't and told me if I wasn't sure, then I should pray about it. I was all like, "Fine I will!" So that night, I said, "Dear Heavenly Father, I am wondering, is there such thing as ang..." and I swear I had not finished the sentence before I was overwhelmed with that warm, weepy feeling you get when something is true without a doubt. I was shocked. I had to wrap my brain around it. I figure, they don't look like little babies with bare butts hanging out inside fluffy clouds, but they do exist. So I'm shifting my paradigm about it.

After Gerald and I finished our chat, we went back to work. All day I was like a cat on a hot tin roof. We are creating accidents for these ads which is just...tempting fate. And I hate heights more than ANY-THING and we spent the day on a three story parking structure. Just that much height freaks my junk out. There is a part of me that wants to jump and fly through the air without consequence and that part of me is what scares the crap out of me. I am afraid it will win one day. I tell this to the six guys from the ad agency, Struck. One says to another, "Dude, tell her about thumbs up!" And does a two handed thumbs up like Fonzie. But the guy goes, "Naaaaw..." They all encourage him, so he relents.

His brother loves to mountain bike and has a group of buddies he likes to go with. And they are in Moab. Anyone who has some knowledge of Moab knows that most rides down there have one or two spots that are lookout spots. You ride up red-rock hills for a long, windey time and then get to a place where you stop and look out over a huge drop. Some have them very close to the trail. Some, like Gemini Bridges have spots like, ON the trail. But they were on such a trail on the day in question, with a good two hundred or so foot drop. This agency guy's brother was video taping his buddies as they rode around a bend, with the drop off point to one side of their trail. One of their guys came through when suddenly his front wheel locked and his bike donkey kicked him off. He flew off his bike, over the edge of the cliff. And as he flew through the air he looked at the camera and smiled, and gave two thumbs up. And then fell to his death. They showed the footage at his service. They showed that he was smiling and it was OK. Because, you know, thumbs up.

I would like to make a deal with God. I know dying in my bed would be my first choice. Go to sleep, not wake up. Second would be to be hit by something funny. Like a Zamboni or a Wonder Bread Truck. Leave them laughing. Third choice would be to live until Christ comes and not have to actually die. This deal I make will include a clause somewhere that I will not in any way fall to my death. Not in a plane, a zeppelin, a hang glider, a bike, a car, my clothes, nothing. In no way will there be a moment of recognition of my impending doom while I vomit all over myself as I realize, "Hey, I'm about to hit some rocks and die" I would rather have a terminal disease. I would rather choke. I would rather not ever die. Thumbs up for that.

KSL Part Three.

2009-04-15T12:09:00.000-07:00

Oh, man. I have some more great stuff from crazy people. I get such a nice glimpse into the psyche of the average American that I think that even once my home is fully furnished I will still go to KSL for the entertainment. For a while there I was only finding things that gave me minor chuckles. Mostly at how people will misspell things. "Couche in Mint Condition" "I also have more items for sell" One woman even posted an ad asking for people to please "higher her" to decorate their homes because she knows how to do it for less. (FYI...So do the people reading your ad. That is why they are on KSL.)

But here are some real doozies. You really have to see the full ads on these to appreciate them.

$1,199.00 $ / FOR ** 4 CHAIRS **

* * 4 MODERN BARCELONA STYLE CHAIRS* * * EXCELLENT VALUE!!!

Sandy, UT 84092 - Feb 7, 2009

These are barcellona style chairs each originally over 900 a piece, frames of stainless steel,chrome, perfect for that MODERN LOOK!! leather (could be refinished in different color if desired)The one shown is the worst of the 4, The others are not damaged ....On EBAY 4 are shown for 1899. with not as much leather.. These on here are a SUPERVALUE @under 300 each!(Table solid & sturdy same leg style also available for 399.)MAKE AN OFFER !

Okaaaay... I have seen this phenomenon before. Let's call it the Antique Roadshow Syndrome. People see that old items that look like these are in Vogue and get all wound up thinking that their stuff must also be worth something. What they don't get is that a painting by Picasso is worth millions but a cubist "style" painting by their great uncle Earl is not. And their nappy chairs are worth about a hand full of gumballs.

Speaking of...

$450

easter chicks order today for friday and sat pick up

pleasent grove, UT 84062 - Apr 7, 2009

I have a limited suppily of colored easter chicks I will hold them till friday or saturday befout noon but I cannot promice the colors you want they are here and the people who pick up first will get first dibs on colors
other chicks and ducks also avalible

Wow, just what my kids wanted for Easter. It's like he's in their heads! I am so glad that this PG man is around to suppily all of my many water fowl needs.

NEW AR-15! Century Arms New in the Box.

Farr West, UT 84404 - Apr 15, 2009

These are awesome guns. Great guns to shoot coyotes or varmints or just fun to target practice with.

I thought the word "varmint" was a word that Yosemete Sam made up.

...Nice doggie...

Make Reasonable Offer

Star Trek Plus The Next Generation

Provo, UT 84601 - Apr 6, 2009

Everything is in excellent condition. Tapes & cases. There is a total of 103. If you have any ?'s call or text! Can arrange for pick-up in South Salt Lake area! Click more by seller! I will be around Monday & Tuesday. Will be gone 8th-15th! Happy Easter!

I'll make you a reasonable offer! How about your 103 Star Trek PLUS videos for some colored chicks and a set of torn up leather chairs "just like" some that are really expensive?

Reading this article should be mandatory before posting on KSL.

5-reasons-why-we-need-to-teach-our-children-proper-grammar

The End.

Testing, Testing...

2009-03-27T21:12:00.000-07:00

So I have not blogged in a long while. I think I'm depressed. I think it's the weather, the fact I have been holed up sick with the kids for two months and the weather. I gained more weight this winter than ever and at the risk of over sharing I have had some "hormonal issues". So my Aunt and Mom concocted this secret plan to take me to go get tested. By a homeopathic doctor.

Now, allow me to explain something about this. I think this kind of stuff is crap. My whole family has been into some serious weirdness (like muscle testing and energy balancing) and I think I have a very sensitive BS-omiter. My gay-dar is broken but I have a great crap detector. And even still I was oddly into this idea. For starters my Aunt said she would cover the cost since she has a trade deal with the good doctor and secondly he gives you herbal drops. I hate stomaching vitamins, but drops sound easy! What can be the harm?

So today I go in and fill out a form about my life. And I am forced to think about my health issues and their timing in my life. Like why suddenly I started to get hay fever at 20. What happened when I was twenty? Let's see, I went through a rough break up with my first love and my Mom went gay and I started drinking. Huh. Check there.

After your symptom breakdown is on paper, you hold a little metal tube about four inches long that looks like a guitar slide in one hand, while he holds a laser pen thingy against little pressure points on your other hand. And then the thing makes some noises and you watch a little line go up. If it goes up the chart into the green area and stays there, you're cool. If it goes, booooooooooop and the line jumps over the green area there is something wrong. I have issues with my blood sugar, hormones, large intestine, and some light allergies.

After he does this a list of what you need is made up. One of the coolest parts was how his computer was linked up to show you the emotional impact these deficiencies have on you. Like for one symptom it read the corresponding thing I should take was Elm. Under Elm it read that the emotional outcome of missing this herb was feeling completely overwhelmed by my responsibilities. This is my current number one issue. I am sure it's a bit like reading a fortune, I mean who isn't overwhelmed by one's responsibilities, but unlike a fortune teller, all of the things he told me were 100% dead on. And my son and daughter were accurately pegged, also. (Aidan deeply needs encouragement and Bella came up as argumentative. It totally reminded me of the Mary Poppins measuring tape.)

I like that he said we were not bad off, really. He wasn't saying, "Oh, no! you guys need these thirteen things because you are all really bad off. That will be five hundred bucks." He was saying the opposite really. He just gave me two bottles of drops and my son, one bottle to help with his skin allergy. The end. To an extent I had the feeling my Mom was hoping we'd find the drops that would magically fix us all into peaceful, perfect, happy people, but alas, that did not happen. I think we'd need a real prescription for something like that. I think it's called Zoloft.

Twitterpated

2009-02-24T13:46:00.000-08:00

So if you aren't aware of it yet there is this thing everyone is all excited about called Twitter. And it's as fun as they say, if you like that sort of thing. By that sort of thing I mean chat rooms. Remember when entering a chat room meant there was a flowing stream of funny things people were saying back and forth and you could pick up a line that sounded interesting and catch the rest of the thread and follow it for a while to your own amusement? And remember how you could jump in with silly comments wherever you wanted and specify who the line was aimed at? And remember making friends with total strangers you had never seen before in real life? Combine those old ideals of yore with newer "Facebook-ian" concepts like status updates that are kept under a certain amount of characters, followers, and a profile page and you have Twitter. Here are some reasons why Twitter is the best thing ever in my opinion.
Best. Thing. Ever.

Emmie ( aka stage_left) tweets this: Every day at lunch I walk by a homeless woman who carries a ventriloquist dummy. Today the dummy was wearing big sunglasses

And Brett responds: @stage_left Wow, Rachel Zoe really is dressing everybody.

Oh, I lol-ed in my pants.

Our cat and dog have accounts and fight via twitter.

NigelPugmann tweets:@janefelini You're so lame that when you want to walk somewhere you can't.

Janefelini tweets back:@nigelpugmann Dude, Pew! What dies inside of your ears? Besides your brains?

Nigel tweets back: @janefelini My dreams of being an only pet again one day.

My secret favorite Tweeter, HotAmishChick: Do you know what touches my bum? My unbraided hair. Also, goats. Every. Day. THIS IS NOT A SELLING POINT, GOATS.

Or: In trouble. Jedidiah and I made a snowman. Accused of making a false idol. The bat wings may have been a bit much.

And: I just dressed my pony with a spare bonnet and apron. It's actually really disturbing. I'm going to get Jedidiah!

Finally: If one was so inclined, one could do a lot of damage with a pair of knitting needles. If one was so inclined. (Smile. Smile. Smile.)

Also there are these spontaneous theme tweets that go around. Like one day everyone started Tweeting fake animal facts, or #fakeanimalfacts. Another day it was nerd pick-up lines, or #nerdpickuplines. Amish pick up lines... You get the gist.

Fake animal facts sample: Bears always write text messages in FULL CAPS.

And:A newly born kitten has the absorbency equivalent of a car sponge.

So I made up: The star nosed mole was in fact named such after his eleventh rhinoplasty.

And: Reported sightings of the yeti crab are often questioned by authorities, photos of the animal are scrutinized for accuracy.

Sample of nerd pick-up lines: "you're a perfect 2 in binary." or: "on a 2-digit non two's complement binary number you're a 3."

So Brett made up: Why don't you come back to my place and break my code ...

Some great Amish pick-up lines: Do you like pancakes and living an austere life without modern conveniences?

My fav: My mother spoke to your mother and now I'm supposed to speak to you.

And finally: I'd like to grow my beard for you. #amishpickuplines (True story! For reals!)

Also people send out great things they find, like these gems...

Or:

Literal Videos are another new love found through Twitter. These were yanked off Youtube for licensing issues, imagine that. You must see them. I love, love, love the Tears for Fears one.

If you have not before had the unidentified longing to join a big fat community of smart mouths, then this may not be for you. If you sat in the back of class and thought of as many hilarious critical remarks as possible in a one hour period about your drivers-ed teacher, JOIN US! We haven't grown up either.

I know I know.

2009-02-11T11:42:00.000-08:00

I am way late with the kitchen make-over pictures. We are pretty darn close to having them up. But thanks for asking to see them, friends. I really appreciate it.

To take up time on another subject I would like to make a list. I know! These lists are going around Facebook, in case you are dead. This next list is the frequently referred to around my house in casual conversation list of stuff that inexplicably pisses me off. Not in any order.

The term "Skill Set." Like you've got a little box on your desk that you can open up if you need to pull out your skills and use 'em.
Words pronounced super incorrectly. Libary. Febuary. Fermilliar. Inneresting. Honorable mention goes to duck tape. It's for ducts. Duct tape. But whatever, it's hard to pronounce and now there is a Duck Tape brand tape. You're off the hook.
Animals in clothes for pictures. Seeing a pup in a sweater in an old ladies car can be kind of cute. Seeing a Bulldog in a Hawaiian shirt and big crazy sunglasses next to a coconut umbrella drink for some dog calendar makes me want to punch someone in the face.
The drug Abilify. "I feel like I could use a drug that would help me to Ablify myself. I will ask my doctor about it."
Sentences that include 'the but hole'. "You are so great, but..." Everything said directly before 'but' goes right down the hole.
Indirect communication. In '07 our nanny told me upfront that she wasn't going to claim the money we paid her on her taxes. I told her that what she did, or didn't do, was none of my business. She later quit when I filed her on mine, however, claiming I had agreed not to and was a big liar. I was so confused. Apparently we had had an entire conversation in her mind that I wasn't aware I was a part of.
Mashed up words used for marketing purposes. Funtastic. Delishalistic. Abilify.
Fantasy. Mainly because of all of the made-up mashed up names. "Oh, no Captain, the Mezalflix Empire has portioned their towpedocons to max-weponary overload thrust." "Begin conflarb sequence, Lt Allemartian, and duct tape your blumarlinon for heaven's sake."
Babies dressed as angels for pictures. Angels aren't cute little dress-up characters, they represent dead people, people. You want pictures of what your dead angel baby would look like on your wall?
Skinny comments. You'd never say, "Wow, you are soooo fat! Stop eating that already!" to someone I assume. So why would you ever think it's OK to say, "Oh my gosh you look emaciated! Do you even eat?" to someone's face like it's a compliment?
The Snugie. It's a backwards robe. Do you think a guy came back from surgery and thought, "This blood covered smock is so warm and snuggie, I will market this item and quit my career as a surgeon"?
That weird two finger snap that guys learn on South American missions. You look like a tool.
"Keeping it real" You sound like a tool.
Big meat headed muscle men staring at themselves at the gym. You are a tool. Heaven forbid you should also say you are just "Keeping it real." You'd be the Tool Master.
Tigger. Dial it down, dude.

Mulit-Master Creative Process.

2009-01-12T08:48:00.000-08:00

SO. I'm stuck. Here is my jumbled mess of ideas and maybe blogging it out will help me sort through it. Feel free to throw in your two or three cents worth! Unfortunately, I am not finding things that I like that the gentleman with the last word also likes. He likes high gloss granite which is nice but t's also WAY too slick for my kitchen which is the room that spends April through October wet from the 50 neighborhood kids in the water in the backyard. We all know what that is like...

Keep in mind my kitchen is changing. On the wall that currently has the red flower picture, there will be this vintage wallpaper I found on Ebay in two big framed out boxes. The wall behind those trim boxes will be the bright green and then on the paneling and trim for the boxes, a darker green. My old wooden kitchen table is getting a coat of acid yellow and we are getting chairs I can WIPE clean this time, aluminum chairs from Sundance Catalog. The cabinet pulls I bought are just simple brushed silver and go with the industrial light already over the sink and the stainless appliances going in. Now that you can hopefully picture this, whattya think about these for tile? I really hope I can just go back there one more time to order and then never go back there again. My kids are sick of going to Contempo Tile and it's WAAAAY too close to the shooting deadline.

I would do this herringbone in a grey or brick color instead of creme.

I love this idea the most. I'm so into checkerboard because it can be any period, anywhere. It can be Moroccan Ballroom or London Hotel or 50's diner. I would do it in the two tiles in the bottom right corner, gray and black.

My two favorite styles here. I love this bottom style but I would do it in gray and black instead of browns. Or at least do the smaller boxes in dark gray or black. The warmth of the larger tiles could be kind of nice, really.

So there you have it. Sigh. I'm going to go over this another hundred times while I watch the Red Carpet re-cap.

The Before Multi Master Pictures.

2009-01-06T17:27:00.000-08:00

This is what my kitchen looks like. And sad to say what it has looked like for about 6 weeks. Yes. Debris and all. I never bagged it up. I also never finished ripping out the particle board subfloor. (Yes, I know it's like a big fragile saltine cracker should it get soaked, that is why I'm tearing it out. Why do men think they have to mention this? Do they assume I'm tearing it out because my high heels put unsightly dents in it?)

The good news is that had I finished it, the Multi-Master folks wouldn't have been able to shoot in my house. Their tool is perfect for ripping out the last of my subfloor. They are also helping with that ledge thingie under the window, whatever it's called. Their tool will cut the broken tile out. I could cry with the happiness.

They are also grinding down the big thick crack in the unsightly plaster in my livingroom ceiling and doing a regular knock down texture. And one of the the mold walls downstairs will probably get a little dry wall and mudding but I'm not sure... I'll have some "before" pictures up of those, too, shortly. I want every one of my readers, you loyal few, to be able to see how awesome these people are and what they are doing for me. They could choose to rent a stage at like, K-Jazz Studios and build a set and show their stuff there, but they did not. They picked real people with real problems that this tool can fix because they are a bunch of super cool selfless dudes. So there.

Miracles and Meltdowns.

2009-01-02T11:27:00.000-08:00

I have been going back to the gym with the attitude, "Let's agree to forgive and forget, Gold's Gym. I will do so if you help me get in shape for the Cancer Marathon in April. Which is bigger than us both and is a cause we can agree to team up for, right?"

WRONG. I get the kids ready and drive to their favorite Gold's location in Orem to be a cool Mom. Today for some reason is the day Gold's Orem decides I can't workout. They tell me the gym access pass is expired but I do have another year of daycare. So I'm back to square one...again. For those of you that have no idea what this is about, I will catch you up quickly. Last year Brett gave me a one year free pass! I had the gym employee sign me up for my year. I told him I would need a year daycare to go with and that I was happy to pay for that. He filled out two contracts, one Gym pass one Daycare pass. I look at the dates on the Gym pass and it's correct, for one year. I sign both. Later I am told that I have TWO years Daycare. I say, "No way! I asked for and signed a contract for one year."

NOPE! The guy put a two year date on the daycare. Why? Not sure. To get me to pay money for no reason for a service I can't utilize I guess. Or in other words to totally screw me.

So I go through the ringer. I go to corporate offices where they laugh me out the door with the attitude, "We don't care what you were told you were getting, the date is right there and there is your signature, so, *bird finger raised* there is the door." Everyone at Corporate offices I talk to gives me this same attitude. I also call Paramount Acceptance (that owns my contract) over and over to talk to a supervisor. I leave messages. One calls me back TWO WEEKS later and says, "This is Joanne *sigh* call me back at *rambles off number* click." Like she's pissed to get MY voicemail after I got hers half a dozen times. I talk to her, I talk to her supervisor. I talk to everyone. Nada. I give up. I quit going to the gym even though I have months left on both passes. Because I am pissed and angry every time I see Gold's. I decide to pay for it in full to sell on Craig's List. I find out, when I call to pay in full, that I have an account that shows two years of gym and daycare!! I ask multiple times if he is sure! Yep. He says he's 99% sure. HUZZAH! Oh glorious day someone must have helped me! Someone that I left a message with took pity on me and did the right thing and gave me the extra year as a consolation for all of the crap I've been through! I go back to Gold's with a forgiving heart after a very busy few months of work. I am going to get in shape and single handedly raise a billion dollars to fight cancer. All is well!

NOPE! Access Denied.

The blonde Gym Manager that wouldn't let me in was such a condescending human being. She said things out of half closed eyes like, "Well it seems simple to me but you obviously have gotten confused somewhere." I had to keep telling her I was NOT confused. That wasn't the problem. I seem to find CS people that think that explaining how things go down somehow equals customer service. Like, "If I just get you to understand how it all happened you will go away." It doesn't. I am not confused. I was there for how it went down and I can read your computer screen as well as you can. And when customers get upset, the goal of a Manager should not be to go out of their way to try and be "smarter" than the customer. It's not a contest.

She had me talk to a cool guy named Keola who was very calm and listened. He would look into doing the right thing and get back to me. So I am waiting.

Onto a couple new updates elsewhere...

1. I read CJane's update on her blog about people's comments. She has so many to deal with I guess it's her equivalent of customer relations, really. I would not ever imagine that she had to weed out rude comments. Guess what, she does. She put a few in her post. People called her selfish and self centered. Which I find HILARIOUS after everything her family has sacrificed in order to help out Nie. I mean, really. Some people are nuts. NUTS! Projection as a human condition should be taught in school along with Math and Science. Anis Nin says you see the world not as it is, but as you are. BINGO.

2. My producer friend called. (The one that took lots of pictures of our house for the info-mercial?) They liked our house. So they came by with a few more decision makers and did a Tech Scout. They liked our house. Then corporate guys flew in and they did another Tech Scout. They liked our house. So its official now, we just got word the week of Christmas. They will shoot in our house!! We supply the ugly before, they supply the lovely after. The extent of which has not been determined but the kitchen gets a whole overhaul for certain. The aesthetic decisions being made by me and their Art Director together. So we have a creative meeting to schedule and the rest of my January will be spent happily wheeling and dealing with the SUPER cool guys from Multi Master! I feel like they are my little mini-Extreme Home Make-Over team. I am SO grateful. It's a Christmas Miracle!!

I'm praying for another one from Gold's. That they will be calling me back with a free year of Gym access or give me my money back!! Why not, right? I'm pretty sure anything can happen after the Multi-Master Miracle.

KSL Ads of the Week.

2008-12-29T21:44:00.000-08:00

I haven't seen anything really totally funny or bizarre in a while. I think they are on to me. Tonight I did find a few that made me smile.

$1500

Two rocking stationary sitting divices.

Sandy, UT 84070 - Dec 29, 2008

8014338###

Seller Contact Info

Contact Name:

Finnegan

801-433-8###

And why I loved it.

The item is both stationary AND rocking.
"Sitting divice"?? You mean a chair??
The guy obviously had to make up a description (for a porch rocker) because he had no idea what it was.
He is asking $1500 (!!) for this thing he can not identify.
Finnegan needs to begin again.

FREE ESTIMATE

MO******IN H**LS drywall

west jordan, UT 84088 - Dec 29, 2008

100% quality we do frame hang tape mud texter finish basement patch WORK RE-TEXTURE CEILING & WALL CRACKEd JOINTS & CORNERS POPPEd NAILS ANd CORNER BEAD WATER Damage Repairs new and old house remodeling we can fix anything around your house

Obviously these guys are going to do a quality, thorough job. Why, just look at their attention to detail.

Free

Got Buck?

Ogden, UT 84405 - Dec 29, 2008

Looking for a male pygmy goat, NOT neutered. Either to borrow for the winter to keep my girls company or I can take him outright if you're sick of the stench. Must be old enough to know what he's doing, bigger buck preferred. Must have horns.

Seller Contact Info

Contact Name:

Nadja

Home Phone:
801-555-####

WTF?

I just found this also via Google...

Loewestamm Company manufactures stylish accessories handcrafted from natural wood. Adhering to own philosophy, Loewestamm offers conceptual collections composed of wooden necklaces, wooden bracelets, wooden bangles, wooden earrings. Each product presented by the Loewestamm Company is hand-made and unique since there are no two identical pieces of wood. Increase Your art and fashion business proitability by completing Your collection with natural wooden jewellery from Loewestamm Design Company.

On Julia's Blog Post, Bringing Classy Back. Or, Why I Love Me Some Mad Men on AMC.

2008-12-20T20:10:00.000-08:00

Julia, Tanya and I stayed up and watched "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes". One of my all time favorites. I must confess I went around saying, "Thank you ever so," for like years after I saw it. I also similarly adore "How to Marry a Millionaire". Oh that gorgeous Lauren Bacal. If I could order me up a face it would be hers. I think my little girl got the best of Bio's physical genes, her eyes have that sleepy bed-room, cat eye shape Lauren's (and Tanya's) do and I love them. Coupled with her dimples and curly hair they keep me from choking her tantrumy/difficult little self. (Bells not Tanya.) But I digress.
We were all lamenting the death of times when women were stared at on train platforms. When we went to dinner in gowns and men winked at us. When men would actually stand up and marry their woman. We wished we could wear dresses everyday and feel more like...women. May I indulge an idea in front of you now? It's just an idea from my sick mind. No, really, I am on some harsh cold meds with a fever, I'm sick. But for now I feel this in my heart and want to get it out. I think we payed a sad price for equality, and we are all starting to feel it. And there it is.
Do NOT get me wrong for a second. I am genuinely grateful for the battle women fought to be equal to men. I am every day blessed with a job I love big where I go to work with a crew full of men. At times being the only women. And I get to have this job because of the past sacrifices of others, I am not ignorant of that fact. And I will not be able to express my gratitude ENOUGH for that on the other side even if given the chance. Because like Julia says, "There are not words."

When I was in High School I had very old fashioned ideas. I would never ask a boy out unless it was Sadie Hawkins. I never called first. I didn't call before 10am or after 10 pm. I didn't put out. You get the picture. I watched girls chase guys and get them all of the time and I saw that guys were lazy. I may have been fighting a losing battle but I made a conscious decision not to participate. It broke my heart in so many ways to see that things were not the way I would have them be. I made it through High School and had a good experience for keeping to this standard. In college I had boyfriends that were well meaning but joshed me about being old fashioned. Mocked me for being non athletic, non political, non outdoorsy and frivolous. I felt like I had two options, get with the program or get passed over. I got with the program.
I wouldn't change it. I wouldn't be able to do what I do if I had not gotten with said program. But I do feel that price being paid. Oh, I feel it. I feel it after being on set overnight for 18 hours shooting in a store/bank/hospital when I get groceries looking like a construction worker because Brett has to be at work and then go to an audition and then has Thrills and can't manage it. I know I'm wrecking classy. When I am tearing out the kitchen floor/moldy drywall/bathroom vanity and I have to go to Lowes to get a part in my doo rag and overalls. I know who I am being in those moments and it's not lovely and demure. And I ache a little. I know it secretly wrecks Brett. My mother-in-law told me so.

Our lives as humans today seem to require us to put aside these romantic and classic ideals, sadly. I am just glad for a church that says, men...stand up. Women, get an education but stay lovely and foster your nurturing, charitable side. Learn to sew and can and cook. Have enrichment night. Visit Teach. Be chaste and make them earn you. And men, marry them and lead your family. I love these things about us. We are not driving buggies but we are old fashioned. And I look forward to going to church every Sunday. And to my new church time of one o'clock knowing it gives me ample time to put effort into at least one day in my week when I get to do my hair and put on pretty shoes and an actual dress. So I can sit by a handsome man in a suit who will hold my hand and if I'm lucky, wink at me.

Looks like I made it.

2008-12-13T14:06:00.000-08:00

I survived the back to back shoots. Woo. There is still one more but it's not heavy. Just a show up and do make-up kind of day. So I feel like snuggling down in my house and sleeping until roughly May. I've missed out on a lot while I was working, like AFV. So I'm catching up right now. Aw, dogs in shoes. Ow, dudes hitting stop signs. Ew, birds going poop on toddlers.

We have a cat now. Her name is Jane. We call her Friskers Meow. Brett hates her. It's a surprise to me how much I like her. Pugmann wants her to be in his mouth at all times. Pugmann now weighs 300 pounds from the eating of Jane's food. (Side note: My daughter said a funny thing while watching Beyonce's Single Ladies video on You Tube with me. She asked if one of the girls in it was my friend Jane Black. I couldn't figure it out but I think she knows the girls are black and I have a friend named Jane Black and did the "math".)

My Grandma broke her hip. And that commercial where the old woman falls and can't get up that we all made fun of is now not so funny. She fell while alone and wasn't able to move until my Cousin Elizabeth came home from school and found her and called for help. I will bawl if I think about it. So the package I just sent will not get to Grandma because she is in Hospital. I love saying that. So Brittish. Can't we bring that around?

Brett was given the job of putting up the Christmas lights three Saturdays ago but the weather was just too nice and he had to be indoors playing WOW until a massive storm today finally drove him out of doors to do the lights. Wha?? Poor man.

We are asking for heart felt prayers. It's super selfish to ask, I know. But. A good friend that produces commercials told me he is doing an infomercial for a tool that is great for remodeling. He came and took lots of pictures of our torn up house. He thinks that they may use it to shoot some before and afters. They will supply the afters. So I am begging that they find many, many rooms that will work for their commercial. The client flies into town on the 22nd to look at our house. Even if they just do our cabinets I am happy. But I can't help wondering, what if they do more?? But I'm not counting any chickens. Trying not to count chickens. No chickens.

I have shopping done, and the tree up and now I need to go do a cross-stitch due Tuesday and a few returns and get ready for the Ward Christmas Party so no one thinks I'm a Jack Mormon again. Which by the way used to be a term for people friendly to Mormons. And with that I leave you again until after Christmas. Or until something interesting happens.

Crow.

2008-11-24T09:55:00.000-08:00

I'm eating it. I am actually working a lot this fall/winter. There are a slew of these great spots being written by Jeff at Reister for Pacificorps. We shot these amazing Linemen. (Power line workers.) I was told that the prettier my assistant and I could make ourselves the better they would co-operate. That they are real men and won't like wearing make-up. I'm expecting trouble. Nope. These men are...amazing. They are all laughing at one another and threatening to post pictures on the internet but it's all in love. They all mostly did it for kids and grandkids, so they could see them on TV. Awww. They all thanked me and one guy actually thanked me for talking to him like I would a normal person. Wha? I was honored. It's like a Fireman thanking you for your contribution to society. I seriously teared up a few times. One single dad shared his story with me about raising his girls and I bawled like a baby. His girls are AMAZING by the by, he showed me pictures. Movie star beautiful these two! His good friend was in the chair after him and told me when we were alone that he really was an amazing father and did a bang up job with his girls and got misty. Another guy told me their job was the coolest job in the world even though people die all the time doing it. He said there can be thirty teams all out with their spotlights shining up the poles while the snow comes down. He said no one else sees this and it's stunningly beautiful and makes it worth every minute. The only thing I can compare it to is my stringing Christmas lights in a snowstorm for a Check City shoot with Ryan Little and Tyler Measom. No lives were saved in my helping advertise for 26% interest plus fees on your emergency cash advance. And I was on a ladder, not a 75 foot pole.

That was day one. Day two was a slew of vignettes. Blenders, toasters, shovel phones. Yep, shovel phones. Everyone would walk past and then back up and look at me taping phones to shovels and post hole diggers. Then scratch their heads. "Call before you dig", I'd say and they'd go, "Oh. Got it!" The next one involves a ninja. I am dying to make and/or buy a ninja outfit! Jeff said they have 9 more coming up. Nine. N.I.N.E. And I'm shooting for Mountain America this week. I am thinking that the timing couldn't be better. I will hopefully have a good chunk of our debt erased by February. Because I believe in divine planning, I will either be Pregnant next year or unemployed. Either way I will be prepared. I hope and pray it's the former. I love my job. LOVE my job. Love it!! It completes me.

The only bad thing about working so much is that this house is going to be a giant mess for much longer than anticipated. And I will miss Aidan's 9th birthday. (I was in charge of all the other 8 so I don't feel too badly...) And that we will have Thanksgiving at Chuck O' Rama. No, really we will, I am not cooking in a kitchen without a floor. I guess that last one is not so bad, I like Chuck O Rama. So I may go blog M.I.A. for a while. I should wish you to Have a Happy Turkey Day and Merry Christmas and possibly I should wish you a Happy New Year as well. Martin Luther King Jr Day? I'm pushing it...

Everything and Nothing

2008-11-10T20:55:00.001-08:00

This time of year is just dismal. I stop working. The weather changes. I get fat. I am left to actually spend time in my house and with my kids. Neither of which I'm used to. Both seem to be beyond repair.

Don't get me wrong, I feel like I have a lot of blessings. I can see God's hand in my life helping things along in spite of me. I now have good friends and a great husband and a fun job and a house. But I am still left wondering sometimes, when does my life begin? When will I get to start having many babies and stay at home and walk my kids to school before I sit down with a Sarah Lee pound cake and watch my programs? When will I put my kids down for a nap, wrap up in a blanket in front of a fire nursing a fat baby reading Twilight for an hour while dreamily thinking about being in love with a Vampire all wistfully full of longing and romance? Then make dinner while the kids play Xbox. Put my kids to bed and rub Brett's shoulders while we watch Leno. My biggest concern being which pictures I should use for our Christmas cards, the ones of us in reindeer sweaters or where we're all in white...

I always wanted a normal life. I only wanted a normal life. So I used to lie. A lot. About stupid stuff. I told my friends I was in a dance troupe, that I took violin lessons. I so deeply wished my Mom didn't work for the National Enquirer, General Hospital, A Country Radio Station. I wish she didn't wear cut off short shorts, flirt with men, miss all the landmark occasions in my life. I wished my Dad would step up and call her out. Leave her, tell her no. I wished she didn't spend money we didn't have. Pay her mother's huge phone bills. Have huge phone bills. I vowed I would never be like that.

But I am forced to see how I am just like my mother. I work a job that takes me away from my kids. Makes me miss important events. A job that is kind of embarrassing for my children in it's frivolity. I have a house that has hundreds of incomplete projects. My kids go to school in clothes that are too small for them, or the wrong season. They need haircuts and smell bad. I spend money I don't have and assume irresponsibly that I can just Ebay to make extra cash. Or start selling dresses or make kids clothes or jewelry or open a business or patent a million dollar invention or write a screenplay. My mother is in her mid sixties and says she isn't worried about retirement because she will just write a best selling novel. She can't decide if it should be about her sex life or helping people die or being a lesbian or...

Can I still dream? That after this Saturday when we all finally get sealed in the Temple I will magically fix this house and make a million dollars and get pregnant and live forever in perfect, normal bliss? Or is that just the equivalent of lying about being on a swim team? I think what will really happen is that I will have a great day and be thankful for my family and we will all feel really great. And a great weight will be lifted off my shoulders. And then Bella will have had a long morning and get crabby and need a nap, so Brett and I will kiss everyone we love goodbye and come home. We will then sit on the couch on his and her's laptops while we ignore the overwhelming amount of things around the house we don't have the ability or means to do while I worry endlessly how I will pay my minimum amounts due November through February. And when my real life will begin.

Bentz Family Vacation Do-Over Contest

2008-11-04T14:01:00.000-08:00

So I know I'm not a Clark Family member with a blog readership of over six hundred but for those few of you that do read, please go to www.parentingextras.com/familyroadtrip/ and vote for the Bentz Family. Brett's sister is Tiffany Bentz and their dear family had a way worse time on our family trip then I blogged about previously. I was only miserable and hot at Sea World. They were miserable and hot and had barfing kids. Kids that barfed on their DVD player. Kids that barfed up their Anti-Biotics for their painful ear infection. Kids that decided they would just not take meds no matter what. I feel for them, they SO deserve a do-over! I hope they get it. I don't know how they mantained their sunny cheerful attitudes. VOTE VOTE VOTE! And thank you for your support.

Scary.

2008-10-30T09:16:00.000-07:00

I had a baaad dream last night. And I haven't been watching scary movies or anything. Scary dreams leave me with that weird emotional hang-over like scary movies do. I judge a scary movie on how long that hang-over lasts. Top five scary movies according to Amelia in no reasonable order:

5. Twilight Zone:The Movie. My sister Jen was having a sleep over for her birthday. They were in the TV room in sleeping bags and decided to watch this movie. She told me to go and get her and her guests stuff from the kitchen, I don't know, chips or something. I did and came back. On screen two men were talking about something. I handed the stuff over and when I turned back around a guy in the driver's seat asked his passenger if he wanted to see something really scary. He hid his face and then turned back to his friend as a hideous monster and ate him. I was so unprepared for it I almost soiled myself. I had to sleep with my Dad that night and even then I kept thinking he was going to turn over at any moment and say, "You wanna see something really scary?" The next day I avoided people. I replayed it in my head in a million different scenarios. My mom handing me a piece of bread, my sister passing me in the hallway, friends walking with me to school. Each ended with them asking me the question before turning in to monsters. I came around the corner of our house a few days later and my Dad had a running chain saw in his hands. When he just went to a tree and began to saw some limbs I knew I was going to be fine.

4.Seven. (Spoiler alert: I tell the ending but if you haven't seen it already, wtf??) I saw it with my first husband the first night it came out. We heard some DJs talk highly about it on the radio. They mentioned it was intense but I think they underplayed it. I was a mess through the whole thing. I almost cried when they open that room with the thousands of little scented trees and when Brad opens the box and finds her head and then shoots Keiser Sose I was shaking like a crack fiend. Devin and I apologized to each other over and over for not finding out more about the movie before we went so we would have been better prepared. I had nightmares for days. I liked it the second, third and forth times I saw it, though.

3.The Descent. Brett and I went and saw this together. It's hard to go and get a sitter and plan a night you're both free and then go to a little old theater in Murray and see a movie that makes you want to go home and sit in the shower, rock back and forth and cry. I have never loved a movie I hated so, so very much. I want to tell everyone to see it so we can talk about how wonderfully horrifying and awful it was. If you love scary movies, it's one to watch. If you don't? Dont.

2.Signs. I know everyone hated this movie. I know that people wanted it to be something it wasn't. I know there are aliens at the end that no one wanted to get a good look at. I do not care. I loved this movie. I saw it with my Mom and when we came out of the theater I was going over it and over it in my head. "Swing away, and he was a batter and could only...and the waters all over the house and the thing with the breathing and they were things that made them weird but the mom knew it was for a reason and in the end saved their lives and..." I was shaking uncontrollably while I smoked what seemed like eleven camel lights back to back outside the theater to calm my nerves.

1.Nightmare on Elm Street. I saw this in the theater. Do the math and you will see I was WAY underage. I'd had a dream months before the film came out about a boy in a wheel chair. He was in an old school late at night. He was wheeling down a long hallway that came to a T. He was looking for his family that were there for teacher conferences. As he wheeled along three cuts appeared on his back as if slashed by three knives at once. The cuts just appeared and began to pour blood. He fell forward in his chair. It began to wheel its self down the hallway faster and faster until a locker opened up in front of him, unseen hands shoved his body and the wheelchair into the locker and slammed it shut. Then three people that I knew were the boy's family, Mom Dad and sibling, came around the corner talking about how well the boy was dong in school after the accident. Mom and Dad then received the same three slashes on their backs and fell to the floor in a heap. My minds eye zoomed in on the last survivor and they mouthed the words, I'm next. Then I woke myself right up. So when I saw a preview for a movie where school kids get cut up by a guy from their dreams that has a handfull of blades, I had to go see it to be sure this guy wasn't real and I wasn't next.

Have a Happy Halloween and good luck renting one or all of the above.

The Literally Illiterate.

2008-10-21T10:27:00.000-07:00

I love KSL.com. I found my dog there, Nigel Pugmann. I am constantly looking for things I can use for the house, like flooring, tiles, a way to eradicate dog hair. What I come across instead are examples of people's extreme illiteracy. There was a perfectly hilarious ad I came across months ago that sadly I didn't copy and save, but thankfully there is a wealth. Here are a few good ones I came across today.

NICE ANTIQUE SIDE BOARD. Ogden, Ut.

SIDE BOARD IS 48 INCHERS IN LENGHT
38 INCHERS HI AND 20 INCHERS WID
PLEASE CALL JACK AT 334 6287 PLEASE
CALL BEFORE 7 PM. Contact: Joann.

How many inchers in a foot, Joann?

TAKE ME HOME FREE
vally, UT 84763 - Oct 21, 2008
i am giving away my three english bulldog puppies out to good homes due to our transfered out of the state you will only pay for there shipping cost. contact roselin_lucas4@yahoo.com

How does one ship a puppy, exactly?

This next one is just plain confusing. I don't know whether to call and pick up the "little guy" or laugh at it's expense.

Frozen Kitten Deserves a Good Home
Heber city, UT 84032 - Oct 20, 2008
This little guy is about 5-6 weeks old. I found him at the back door of the restaurant where I work about 10 days ago. It had been one of the coldest nights we had, back when the snow was here. I don't know where his mother is or how he got to where he was. When I picked him up, he stayed in the same position, he was so cold. He wouldn't open his eyes and just kept doing the same cry over and over. After about 2 hours, he was finally warmed up and very wobbly. You could feel every bone in his body. For being so young, he has really had a rough start in life. The tip of one of his ears had been bitten off and the end of his tail is also bent from a break. It took a week for him to quit growling every time we fed him, he was so starved. I am happy to say that he has gained a lot of weight and no longer growls to protect his food. He is just the sweetest thing and loves to be with people. I really want him to have a good home with someone who can spend some time with him. I introduced him to my neighbor and her cat and he freaked out at the older cat. It may have been another cat that attacked him in the first place, so I don't know how he will do with other cats. My shi tzu licks his face constantly and he loves that. Please don't be offended if I ask about what kind of home you can provide, I just want to know he will be safe. Please call, he is the perfect age for enjoying all the kitten time out of him. He is litter box trained.

Awwwwww. I want to enjoy all the kitten time out of him...

$14000
Fisher wood burning stove
moroni, UT 84646 - Oct 21, 2008
Mr. Toone placed an add for a fisher wood burning stove and I told him to consider it sold I dont have your number please call call me with your number. or relist it.

The best part is that this has been placed as a classified ad. If Mr Toone was selling a stove he would not be likely to look through other wood burning stove ads now would he? Sorry you jacked the buy. Der.

Dont buy from the Herriman lady
Herriman, UT 84096 - Oct 21, 2008
I had planned to buy an outfit from her and bought all of the family matching outfits. She had a outfit it was a bee 0 to 6 mo she said she would save it for me. I called her to get it and she said she was in Provo, and that I can come pick it up from her. When I got there she said she sold it. I drove 45 min from my house, very unprofessional. I also went to her house prior and left my sons hate and baby blanket, she refuse to give it back. A lot of the costumes were very dirty and smelled of mold. There are a lot of other adds on here with nice honest people.

I am glad that after 45 whole minutes of unprofessional driving she still got there OK. But it is unfortunate that once she got there the Herriman Lady refuse to give her back her son's hate.

This may become a weekly thing. The KSL "Add" Spotlight. Vote yay or nay, all in favor say I.

I want to win a handbag.

2008-10-03T18:38:00.000-07:00

Go to this site if you want to enter, too! If I post this link I get 25 more entries automatically. It should be a pretty cool site. http://www.handbagplanet.com

Customer Disservice

2008-09-30T14:25:00.000-07:00

As many of you readers know, I shop for a living. Before that I worked retail at a lot of different stores. So I presume to know a thing or three about retail. I also worked at Discover Card which is the best company on the planet. It is designed in every way to cut through crap. So the bar on my expectations is set really high. The following companies don't even come remotely close to touching that bar. Like if my bar is in New York, their bar isn't somewhere on the Jersey Shore, but waaaay over in like, Taos, New Mexico.

Kimball Roofing. We had the great fortune of getting a roof replacement negotiated into the contract when buying this house. It's against code to put shingles on a flat roof. No one does tar and gravel anymore and that left us with one other option. Bitumous Membrane. It's like having really, really thick/wide duct tape rolled over your roof. Kimball said they could do it. The guys show up to do the job, a guy Kimball hired out and his dudes. The guy's three non-English speaking workers are SUPER nice and helpful. But. His guys leave cigarette butts all over the place, don't clean up the tar and gravel from demolition and put the membrane on crooked. I corner him about it. He says they are workers not artists. I say it doesn't take an artist to snap a friggin chalk line. He draws for me a very elaborate wooden veneer that he could build for me for a few thousand dollars that would cover up his shoddy work nicely. Yeah, that happened. I was VERY upset. It's just the beginning. Days later I notice the swamp cooler is blowing luke warm air. Brett keeps telling me it's working, but I'm not on board. (Sorry honey) So I get a free estimate on replacement. The guy tells me the actual unit is not the problem that it's been totally disconnected and asks if anyone has been on the roof lately. Kimball. He tells me that they are required to hook it back up for free, for sure. So I call them. It is many moons before I can get a guy to just call me back. Many more to get a guy to come over. We set up an appointment finally. Minutes before he is supposed to be here he asks if he can come back another day because someone took the ladder out of his truck. I'm hot and angry. I tell him to GET OVER HERE and I'll find him a friggin ladder. So he comes over, then doesn't leave. It takes him TWO DAYS to work on it. Now this was a while ago and the details are fuzzy but I do remember that because he spent two days at our house, noon and night, at some point I decide to shower. And I am in my bedroom which across from the hall swamp cooler switch. That's right. It's the one time he walks into our house with no verbal announcement. I defied all laws of the universe to fly through the air and shut the door so this old dude could not get a glimpse of the goods. I do not think I was successful. He finally, FINALLY, finishes and leaves me with a cracked switched plate and a slightly dirty feeling. Next day...it's still blowing warm. I call Kimball and tell them everything. They don't care. The owner of the company is there, he won't take my call. They totally blow me off and won't send another guy to fix my air or anything. If I remember correctly we finally went through our home owners warranty and they sent a guy who did it for like 50 bucks. He ended up fixing it in like an hour and he laughed the whole time about how all the lines were crossed and the water not turned on and the power cable actually severed. OMG.

Gold's Gym. Both times I have made the mistake of getting a membership here I have spent moths on the phone trying to fix it. Both times it went back to the person signing me up. First time the lady took 10 seconds to go over my actual contract and one hour to tell me about her divorce. The second time he took the hour on my contract, because every time I had a question he had to get up and ask someone the answer. I hate Gold's gym so much I don't go on principle. I have a 14 month pass with daycare included up for sale cheap if anyone wants it. I want to go back to 24 Hour Fitness.

Sprint. For those of you that know Brett's blog I will not waste your time going over this in massive detail, again. Needless to say an employee put insurance on Brett's phone and not mine by accident. And my phone broke. Then they wouldn't fix my phone or switch the insurance. I went to a bunch of stores and finally talked to some regional higher up who STILL wouldn't do anything about their employee's mistake. At store #5 some guy hatches a plan. To "solve" the problem I will buy a new phone I can use, he will switch the insurance to my account, and he will send in my old phone. Since it only takes a few days to get my phone fixed, he will just return the phone he sells me. I hear nothing for over a month. A guy calls me and tells me my phone is in. I'm on set for two days, I can't bring it in. Day three, my dog eats the "new" phone. Chews it all to hell. I tell them it's my fault, sure, but they made me buy a phone and it took over a month. And I should have insurance on my account now because this guy fixed it, right? Nope. Still on the WRONG ACCOUNT! I go back in and I ask the guy if he thinks this is his idea of good customer service and how exactly he thought any of this plan was actually going to be helping the customer. He rolls his eyes and says, "Ok. One more time so you get what we did. You came in with your phone and we gave you a new phone. Then we sent your phone in to corporate..." He does this over and over. I am trying to get him to see big picture, how is this helping me. He and a fake customer pretending to look at phones and another worker all get into this by snickering at everything I say and whispering and rolling their eyes at me and disrespect me...in front of my children. They made me cry, those big awesome guys at Sprint on the corner of State and Center in Orem. It's cool to roll your eyes and laugh at a stupid Mom with her stupid kids. My kids tried to comfort me in the car on the drive back home. Saying, "It's OK Mommy, don't cry. They weren't nice, Mommy." Yeah, that happened. That was just the beginning of a six month tour through Hell with them to finally fix this. Our service was turned off twice in error. Our phones don't get reception in our own house and no one knows why. It's over 400 bucks to get out of our contract. We are stuck with them until April.

KrispyKreme. Did you know they don't take 50 or 100 dollar bills? Me either. And you don't find out until after you and your kids watch the conveyor for twenty minutes, stand in line for another twenty, finally pick out and box your doughnuts. They don't tell you until you have done all of this and are standing at the register with two happy drooling little kids that are there being rewarded because they behaved themselves. And no the manager won't make an exception. And no I don't have a credit or debit card. I have actual cash. But...BUT...they will provide you with cups so you can have a water. Two crying little kids don't care about having a cup of water when their doughnuts have just been LITERALLY taken from their hands. 'Cause they are better off being in the trash. Hot light wasn't on I guess? When we drive by Aidan still says, "Our money isn't good there, huh Mom."

Racelinedirect.com. I had to buy thousands of dollars of NASCAR merchandise for a shoot. We didn't have the models picked out yet so we over-bought due to time restraints, in hopes something would fit. When it came down to the day of the shoot the agency didn't want to overload on Nascar clothes, understandably. We used a little bit from many sources. The one ladies T shirt everyone agreed on was from Raceline. It's in every shot. We used two of this style shirt. We return every other piece from there. It's a big return. On their website it has a 100% satisfaction guarantee. It states their policy which I abide by to the letter. Merchandise in original bags, unopened, with receipt, returned well under the 60 day limit. But they won't return it. At first I'm told there will be a fee. No one can say how much. They ask the owner, he says he won't return any of it. I go nuclear. They tell me to ask Michelle who is in charge of returns who I placed my order with. She won't call me back. I get the run around for the third day in a row, and while on hold I get to listen to a recording repeat over and over about their 100% satisfaction guarantee and happy and polite customer service. I finally reach Michelle in the early morning, this morning in fact. She won't help me and says to talk to the owner. I tell her how he told me to talk to her. Nice. Put him on. He says there will be a 40% restocking fee. If I pay 40% of the retail price for the merchandise, I covered his cost of the product and then this Jackass gets to re-sell the merchandise and makes double keystone in profit. Am I supposed to be dumb? I say that is UNACCEPTABLE! Not going to happen. I agree to 20%. And I don't even feel it's totally right to pay that under the circumstances. He tells me that I am not his regular customer. I faunch. I say, so it's ok to not honor your word with me because I'm outside your demographic? I am a professional shopper, I'm the last person you want to piss off. He tells me it sounds like I'm a professional returner. I say, whether or not we used your stuff is inconsequential. It just happened that way. I bought from you because you guarantee 100% satisfaction and 60 days to return for full money back. If it had read otherwise I would have not even bothered. I passed up other NASCAR web sites for less. I tell him he needs to honor his word. He tells me he will bring it down to 25%. I tell him to send me and invoice with the exact totals of the return amount minus the 25% fee. He sends me a return invoice, with the wrong return amount. It's short 71.00. I call to talk to him about it. I tell him I know it's short. He says it's not. I tell him it is and I will call him back in a second. I calculate with a calculator, Brett calculates even, and it's short. I call him back. He left for the day. That big feathery chicken butt. I want this man's head. A shirt from his company was agreed upon by art directors from one of the most elite ad agencies in the entire country,Saatchi and Saatchi X. It was shot by one of the best photographers, Lori Adamski-Peek, for Sports Illustrated. And it was chosen by who? Me. He gets free publicity in Sports Illustrated thanks to who? Me. Instead of being grateful for any of this, he is being utterly dis.respect.ful. I think he's so busy thinking of how he's getting "screwed" he will never even think to use the fact he got into SI to push his business. The tard ass.

Timpanogos Temple. I know that cute little old people volunteer their time to work there but the church would maybe do well to have some sort of training. I made multiple calls to the Temple to make an appointment to be married and sealed. They gave me a list of papers I needed to have. One being a letter confirming Temple Divorcement. I told them it was over ten years ago and I didn't think I had it. I asked if it could be requested from Headquarters or whatever. She didn't know but someone would call me. A guy we'll call Brother Jensen calls me and tells me to call him. I actually FIND the letter. I call him back and say it's all fine, I found it and not to worry and we'd see him there! Brother Jensen says, no. That there was more. My son's Dad couldn't just agree verbally, we had to have it in writing. My bishop said they were wrong that verbal was good. I call again to make a date, and they connect me to Brother Jensen again who says there is a note telling him I need to get ONLY written permission and not to let me in. I tell him I don't have time to discuss it now but I will just get the paper, if there is any question about it at all. He keeps explaining to me that I NEED this letter, and does so for SO LONG that I hang up on him. HANG UP! I asked Ty if he'd agree in writing and said that would be fine, whatever. Meanwhile Brother Jensen is leaving me messages about how I really need to get this letter and he was sorry we got disconnected. I steel myself and call him back and explain why I hung up. Brother Jensen says he can't hear me through our bad connection and says to call back when I am getting better service. Which will be sometime after April. We get a home line. I call back and they tell me...they tell me...that my son is born under the covenant of my first marriage and does not need to be sealed to us. Because the date on the divorce confirmation letter is three months after he was born, he is somehow "born under the covenant". I can not speak. I hand the phone to Brett. I love this man. When I can no longer deal because I'm too emotional, which is not often, Brett goes into this place. This killer protect the flock space and God help the people on the other end of the line. In this case that's already the Temple so I guess God help us. Brett talks to this guy and then calls our Bishop. I tell them both, I just want to get this done. We're worthy people who love one another and had the miraculous experience of finding each other, having an adoption finalized and an ex that once said, "Over my dead body", change his mind and allow his son to be sealed. All of these things were perfectly aligned so we could have this singular experience.

We are so close and yet so far away. Like New Jersey and New York.

Back to the Future.

2008-09-28T09:33:00.000-07:00

I guess it goes back to the day we moved here. The actual day we moved in is unclear because it was a process to actually get into the house after the renters took 10 days to move their stuff out and two more to come and get their dog. But in the beginning days of this house we met our new neighbors who turned out to be my old friends from High School. We all stood out in the street and laughed our butts off for over an hour. It was like I never left his place. Now all my frequent Timp High flashbacks have given way to acceptance. I just live here now.

But last night I was on Facebook waaay too late as usual and I saw my friend Shawn's photos from his High School days in CA. They are golden 80's evidence. He has the best bleached out Mohawk ever. There is one where a crazy looking redhead in a sailor hat strangles a monkey in some jungle themed Sadie Hawkins portrait. If you have access, you gotta check these out. I woke up this morning and went right for the Year Books I had just put into our new bookshelves. I can't put down the one from 1987, my freshman year.

I am looking at people I haven't in years. Like Lincoln Sheranian. Was he gay? He was so pretty and had lots of gorgeous girl-friends. Not that I care to know, I'm just speculating. I still swear in 1995 when I was in London I saw him on the tube. Patti Bennion was hilarious and fearless what ever happened to her? And didn't we all used to looove Josh Forrest? Heidi Hall looks like she wants to Columbine the lot of us. Who was Stacie Jacobsen? She looks like a total rocker. Lisa Harward was so beautiful and she and Stephanie Whitlock used to ask to see my clothing sketches and were really complimentary about them. I adored her. I heard she died in a car wreck in the canyon after she graduated. Ohhh, Sean Peterson. I was in love with him forever! First day of 7th grade I was sliding along the wall to class. You know, walking with my shoulder to the bricks. I came around the corner and nearly ran into him. He said, "Hi Amy" and I honestly nearly threw up. I could barely say hi back and couldn't get out of there fast enough. And then hated myself every day for years for not being cooler. Jon Callister liked me in 8th and his friends told me I just had to like him back. I heard Sean liked me then, too. One time I dropped Jon off after taking him around on my scooter and ran into Sean by his house. I took him for a ride and finally talked to him. And I was so bummed after all of those years of liking him so much that I was kind of "with" another boy and couldn't like him back. Jon totally lost interest and liked Melody Warner which I didn't blame him for. She was cute and cool. And it didn't occur to me to even try and see if Sean liked me still. I just was sure that ship had sailed. I had similar issues with Andy Buckles. I was just sure that ship had sailed because he dated one of my good friends. But how cute was he? I should have hit that.

There is an actual picture of Rod Ash at the Homecoming dance. This dance was such a big deal to me. I had met Rod's best friend Don at the cemetery the summer before High School started. He was a grave digger. Don the grave digger we called him and my girl friends and I used to think he was such an anomaly. We would go up there looking for him. I remember consciously thinking that I didn't care about being cool in school if I could be friends with interesting people like Don. Don found me at the Homecoming Game and introduced me to his friend Rod. It didn't take long to see that no one was as unanimously considered popular as Rod, not in our school or any other. At that Homecoming dance, the first dance of the year, the first song, Rod came over to me and said, "Howdy Sailor wanna dance?" And the girls I was with almost passed out. Rod was my first date. Years later at AUM rush we had to make a swim suit out of like six inches of fabric with no needle and thread and then we had to walk into a room full of Rush Masters and Sigma Tau (Frat brother) leaders with spray bottles. They would ask you questions and you got soaked if they didn't like the answer. They asked me who was my first date and other things, but someone asked me where I was when I first kissed Rod Ash, if he was a good kisser. And I said I didn't ever kiss Rod Ash. Or Don Terry. And everyone just sat there stunned and confused. They ushered me out pretty dry.

At AUM I became friends with Heather Heileson. There was not a girl in school cooler then Heather and I'll tell you why. Someone had started a landslide of public negativity about Heather that lasted all four years. She knew about it for the most part, but she sort of existed on a whole other level. She was so funny and so smart. I admired and respected and adored her. She became a doctor and married a man that thought she hung the moon. I hope with my whole heart she is happy.

In the Seniors there is DC Wright who I would have married had he formally asked me after his mission and Mike Butterfield who should have kissed me when we were drunk in the rain at Hyde Park in '95 but wisely refrained. And James. James William Connelly. Jukes Bapaloosa. He looks so handsome. I haven't seen his face in years and years. I tore up or burned every picture I had of him. I had to. I don't think there ever was a boy more sweet and kind to a girl then James was to me. And I don't think a girl was ever more devoted then I was to him. I can still break wide open if I think about it too long. After we broke up, Malcolm Moody, Eric Larson and Jim Melo were there to pick up the pieces and talk for hours, take me biking and climbing and are still among my dearest and most loved friends.

All of these years spent with these people. I know that the consensus is that if High School was the best time of your life you must be a giant loser. I guess I'm a total has been then. It was the best time of my life. Without question. And I'm seeing that now that I'm home. I think it was God's plan for me to have a blessed social experience because everything at home was an absolute train wreck from the time I was born. I'm grateful for these people and that they are still around and I still know them and I'm back here. It's a big reminder that God wants things to be fun and easy for us. I hope my kids have the same beautiful crazy messed up moments I had. I hope Aidan is friends with the Rod of his school and Bella makes Homecoming Queen by three votes. I hope Aidan sneaks out to meet his friends at Denny's and Bella makes out with a crazy older boy at a Halloween party in front of everyone. These moments make us smile through paying the bills, the nights cleaning up toddler barf and filing insurance claims after wrecking the car. At least, they do for me.

Who the heck is Martha Chadwick?

Spring 09. the "A"s.

2008-09-21T17:47:00.000-07:00

It takes a long time to go through fashion shows on the internet after Fashion Week in NYC. I have only just made it through the A's. I will give you the highlights according to me. It should save you time and frustration, not having to hit the "next" arrow over and over and over and ov...

So let's start with a newbie. I am not so far familiar with the work of Amanda Wakeley. But I found her things to be pretty, wearable, and clean looking. She should stay away from swim, though. But almost everything else was lovely and she used a color I love that my mum and I call Monkey Vomit Green. It's like an olive drab. And everything she showed made sense, which is a huge must for me. I have a real problem with designers that have a show that makes it look like they sketched the first three looks after watching a Tarrantino film and then the next following a gypsy wedding and the last bunch while visiting an Aunt in Winnimucka. I like it when someone has a cohesive plan to their show and knows what they want and goes for it.

I could recant all of these comments in the case of the Antoni and Alison show. I think they got high and watched Dirty Dancing. So they knew what they wanted and had a cohesive theme and boy howdy they went for it. But in this case that's unfortunate. The stills show unhappy, nearly embarrassed girls in ugly hawaiian catastrophes holding fruit and ukeleles on a yellow stage decorated with a left over drop from the local community production of South Pacific. I am sure this was all kitschy and intentional. And that's even worse.

I also hope to never see a show by Armand Basi ever again. If you like dressing like a Goth/Punk 80's pop Genie, he's your guy.

Anna Sui. I have a soft spot for her. I always have. Even for a while there when she seemed to have lost her way, when she thought that boho was never coming back and she had better succumb or lose her business. I love those years for her because as soon as she saw the light at the end of the repression tunnel she got out her pen and drew up the best stuff. Those boots she's been showing lately are fierce. This season she has some similar boots again and also the cutest ankle ruffle shoes on the planet. I heart them in white. It wasn't all perfection though. She lost her way a few times from the rocker indian theme and tried an outright spanish bullfighter bolero look with a lace stacked hat and all. Ugh! And the snoods were spread waaaaay too liberally around. I thought they worked on two girls with the most 30's inspired looks and no where else. She had in my opinion the BEST models and the BEST hair and make-up hands down, though. So even on the looks that seemed too contrived I found I didn't care so much having the pretty faces to look at instead. This is why she's genius. She didn't forget that's the whole point of the model. Her shows are blissful.

Then there are design houses like Abaete that I don't at all enjoy. And I know they have a following, but I am no part of it. Some people really like severity, or Alexandra Kotur wouldn't have clothes to wear. I kid. Sorta. But I think stark really is for a limited audience. Not many women want to look like a cubist painting. And if they do it's a mood they soon get over. Like Proenza Schuler. It seems like a fun idea once and then you wear it and wonder why you just feel...off. But never do in Temperley. Because at the end of the day most of us just really want to look like pretty girls. I think it's why Rachel Zoe resonates with women and her girls do, too. Fashion has been stuck for too long without the breezy sexiness of the LA influence. And it is needed. New York is the fashion capital of the world but it's not the breezy/fun capitol. And it shows in what it bleeds out of it's designers a lot of the time.

Bless the girls that bring the fashion sunshine. And now off to the B's...

The Latest Issues.

2008-09-20T21:37:00.000-07:00

So what happened to the last three posts you may be asking yourself? I deleted them about an hour ago. A month ago I went through and I took care of a post and some comments I left behind, Sopranos style. I do this. I kill my darlings. Why? Because I have raging insecurity when it comes to blogging about myself. I write stuff and then later in a weird moment I decide people will think I sound smug, or full of myself or self obsessed or self righteous. I am afraid I am about to anger/frustrate/offend someone I can not see. So I stick to reading a lot and saying little. Out of fear.

I think fear is self obsessive, self indulgent and smug. Being afraid of what people will think and trying to control it is futile. Besides, even if I have ten people I can't see judging me for the things I say "wrong" I can count at least three people I now consider friends that I have met through this blog. And those people are a part of my day now and I really enjoy them and they don't seem to be easily offended. Which is a great trait in a friend.

And really, I like blogs about people. I read one tonight about a girl who lives in NYC and is a Mormon actress. Her blog was like, momoninmanhattan.blogspot.com I think. And she is just lovely and she talks about herself and the people she works with but I never thought she should just shut up and stop talking about herself! Isn't that the point of a personal blog?

I think it may be interesting to people who know and don't know me to hear about my job, about the fights I get into or out of, teehee, and if I am acting a little full of myself or sound a little self interested couldn't someone big just forgive me that little foible? Sure they could. Right? I dunno. But I am awfully tired of trying to keep my trap shut all the time just out of fear. Aren't you?

I am just not cool.

2008-08-23T21:50:00.000-07:00

Here is a list of things that are or were huge and I will never be into, thus making me not cool.

1. Twilight. Why-It was written for teens. And female Americans have lost their collective minds over it. Sigh.

2. The Lord of the Rings. Why-It's full of stupid contrived words. I couldn't make it three minutes into the film with all that narration. Blah, Blah,Blah. And when she stops talking...Hobbits.

3. Star Wars. Why-I liked the first two. Isn't that enough? And more made up stupid words, like Padiwan. What is that?

4. Pretty Woman. Why-The scene where people are NOT nice to her in the store but then she gets to go back and tell them "Big Mistake"? Why do people STILL talk about that scene? And-She's a whore and she gets the handsome rich guy in the end!?!

5. Julia Roberts. Why-See #4.

6. Harry Potter. Why-Because so many people could not stop talking about it for so long. And again, it's meant for kids!

7. Molly Ringwald. Why-She is getting good reviews again for this new show she's on. I watched a scene. She sucked THEN and she sucks NOW! Did you buy her as the prom queen in Breakfast Club?

8. Tom Cruise. Why-I was right all along! He is weird and I always knew it. All my friends loved him but it will never, ever happen for me. Even if this Hitler movie fixes his image.

9. Jennifer Aniston. Why-She seems nice but she dated John Mayer and she just isn't pretty. She's not! Nice hair and boobs don't mean you're pretty. And-I hear first hand she's a blaizoid.

10. The Gap Inc. This includes Old Navy and Banana Republic. I know it's a weird thing. But did you know the original intent of Old Navy was to replace Kmart? It was geared specifically to Kmart shoppers. Banana was a cool outdoor store at one time. Remember that? Gap sucked all of the life out of it. Like a vampire from a stupid teen novel.

That's my list, and you don't have to agree with me. It's just one gal's opinion.

Rocky Mountain High

2008-08-13T22:33:00.000-07:00

So we are going to Boulder for a wedding this weekend. And then I have a pre-production meeting in SLC Monday, prep day Tuesday for a shoot Wed for Elmira Business School. And then Brett and Jenny will do a photo shoot with Ty in our yard and they are totally letting me do art and stuff. And then I have another shoot for Left Turn but I'm not sure who the client is, Novell? So there's that. And I REALLY have to stock my depleted kit. I want to meet Amanda and take her to thrift stores while she's here in Utah. I'm committed to talk to Bron who is being so kind as to learn me about REAL film make-up, and who is in town for a limited time. And Aidan starts school Monday and I have a stack of his registration papers. I have to book the temple for our wedding but my recommend expired so I have to get an appointment to update that. I have to still get my new IDs for the I-9 so I can finally get paid from HSM. And I have to prime and paint and plum the new bathroom vanity. And call about our medical insurance. And fix the windshield chip. And teach Sunbeams. Visit teach..?

I can't do any of these things now so I'm going to bed. I have a cold. But I get to see my family, so nothing will stop me from making my husband drive all the way to Colorado in the middle of all of this. Some things are just more important.

Salt of the Earth.

2008-08-05T15:58:00.000-07:00

It was nice to go back to the City today. At the car dealership they didn't charge me for labor so my bill was just 2.00 for a tail light bulb. That was just the beginning of a great day.

I went to the Designer Fabric store. They are having a step down sale. Starting in July the fabric just goes more and more on sale. This stuff is normally 40.00 a yard. IT goes to like 20 then 10 then 5 and 4 and 3 then after Aug 11 the fabric takes it's final step down to 2.00 a yard. I bought some today for 3.00 that matches my living room perfectly. 27.00 for wool living room curtains.

I went to Decades. If I had a wider readership I would not be breathing this name out loud for fear it will become too picked over, but I pretty much know who tunes in here. Decades had about fourteen dresses, six hand bags, a wool coat and a tweed suit I really wanted to buy. Cornflower blue beaded dress I was in totally love with? 32.00. I didn't have enough cash, sadly. (And isn't a beaded dress a bit much for a pasture wedding in the Colorado mountains? I'm still thinking about making a dress of my creme eyelet wedding tablecloths. You can wear off-white to a wedding safely, right? Maybe not...)

I got donuts and Pepsi at Wayne's Corner Market and he told me a funny story about his wife having kids every 20 months to the day, to the hour! All born at one in the afternoon like clockwork.

I went in to Cosmic Pictures and got a pleasant surprise. Backstory: I felt suddenly inspired in Legoland to sell our house. Until that point I was totally certain this was the house we were supposed to raise our kids in and felt forced to make it work. But I could suddenly see that selling it would pay off all our debt and leave a bit for a down payment and fix up the next one. I thought of the house on the corner of Timpview Dr and 3950. Just west of our current house. It was designed by a student of Frank Lloyd Wright. I love it. I get it. It functions. I can see my family there. I can see friends over. I get this house and it gets me. My friends own it. I'd love to give money to people I love. BUT- others have told me they tried to buy it and my friend didn't want to sell. I called him a few weeks ago and left a message and he didn't call me back. I left him a note. I really had little hope but knew that if this was a real feeling, this feeling that this was supposed to be our house, that it would work out and I didn't have to keep calling him. I let it go.

So I went to Cosmic Pictures And there is my friend that owns the house. I've not seen him there in all of the four years I've been with them. And since it was a surprise, I wasn't in my head about saying anything stupid or wrong, I just asked if they would want to sell us their house. He said they used to want to keep it as a rental but he's tired of working on it. With them not living in the same town, he can't just stop by and do the work. And they would use the money to put toward their other mortgage. He seemed to be excited to do it. But he has to ask his wife. He's a good man.

Now, keep in mind I don't feel like this was my idea. I just downloaded the concept. One minute I'm hanging out and the next minute I have this plan completely formed and already there in my consciousness. The next part of the idea is to call the realtor that sold us our house. At the time he told us that if we wanted to turn around and sell it, he had a friend who fixes and flips homes that was really interested. We told him no, but he brought it up a few times so I know he was serious. I remembered this and totally feel like it's worth investigating. (Unless you want our house...) If it all works out the way I see it we will be out of this house without our doing any serious work to it and into an adorable house, in the same neighborhood, on the same street, in the same school and ward, with a lower house payment and all our debt...gone. (Other than the mortgage, of course.) Can I get a booyah!?!

Oh, and the gas extender we've been trying totally works. (Unlike the last one...) If you want some, we are trying to get more free samples. Brett just made a web site so others can order it, too. (I'll post it's address once I remember what it is.) So I don't feel guilty going to the city. And that's great because Decades has layaway...

My Mommy is nice.

2008-08-03T23:22:00.000-07:00

My mom took my kids over the weekend after my last shoot. For three days, she had them. So Brett and I worked on the mold rooms and took loads to the dump and DI and watched a movie that made me cry and tried to get pregnant. It was a good rest and I actually am happy to see my kids and even happy to resume work on the house this week. (Thanks in big part to all of your VERY kind words. You guys really healed up a lot of self pity with your awesome comments!) Mom bought the kids some new clothes to go to my cousin's wedding which is a big help because heaven knows when it comes to dressing my kids, I tend to over think it. We are super excited for the Thrills shows at Sundance!! I'm excited also to finally see the last batch of Cosmic and Fueld commercials I have worked on. This year has not been as over jammed with work, like some others, but I have worked on some of my favorite shoots, ever. And I am still watching my girl Christina on HSM Get in the Picture. I sewed her outfit (sewed her into it even) and she was very nice. VERY. I am hoping she goes really far, if not all the way. (I do think I know who wins, but it's staying in me till the end!!)

And girls, lets start a *itch and stitch! Declare your availability for next week. I'm hosting, which means Coke Zero and Powdered doughnuts for all! I am so very happy to be able to finally have people over and not worry about mold spores.

Home is where you hang your hate.

2008-07-28T15:28:00.000-07:00

It's my fault I hate my current house. A long time ago I had a house in South Provo. Aidan's Dad and I bought it from a couple that had really done a neat job fixing it up. We did some tweaking, too. All of my extra time was pretty much spent thrift shopping for decor seeing as how I was mostly a stay at home mom back then. We painted and landscaped. It turned out so well I over did the self congratulation. When it came time to sell it, I cried for days like it was the end of the world. I cried more over that house than I did my Ex. But then again, the house never cheated on me and called me bad names behind my back. We sold it for 15,000 more than we paid which was really pretty good at the time and for the BYU area.

Cut to: Years later, I listen as I hear myself saying to my husband and the Realtor that I can fix up this house. I did not take into account the following...

1. I have quit drinking coffee. I used to have half a pot at breakfast, a latte or an espresso in the afternoon and at least one more cup around four or five. I could have cut the lawn with fingernail clippers I was so high.

2. I had one child. And he liked to play quietly, by himself, for hours.

3. Ty really did a majority of the work.

4. Ty had a Dad that told us how to do a majority of the work.

5. Most of the hard stuff was done before we got there.

6. The disastrous, slap-dash construction of this house VS the old solid one.

7. I am kinda old.

8. I have an actual career now that takes actual effort.

9. We do not have credit cards with tens of thousands of dollars available to us. (Thankfully, really.)

10. I am a raving lunatic. And I don't know what the hell I am talking about. I mean this kind of thing needs to go to people that really know what they are doing not someone who can paint some tile and lay some flooring. And Brett didn't know the total depths of my insanity since we had only been married a year. After seeing how hard it is for my neighbor who is a professional, I am stymied I ever thought I could do it on my own.

So in buying this house my mouth wrote a check that my Butt can't cash. In the meantime...

1. We have one bathroom. And it doesn't really work. We are all showering in a 3X3 ft shower with broken tiles and twenty year old non-skid flower decals that make me wonder how many Y students have peed on them.

2. About seven hundred square feet of our downstairs is infected with mold. One day I lost my mind and I just pulled off the faux wood paneling for no reason. Now if I had not done this the mold would not have been an issue. It would have been sealed up in there and stayed in it's little happy place and since it's not the toxic kind and we are not allergic we'd have been fine. We could have painted and laid carpet and let it go like that forever. I unleashed it. And now it's angry and blames me for all of it's problems.

3. The stairs to the deck are a rotting wooden death-trap. One is even missing. Not only have the kids tripped over it countless times but the dog actually fell through to the concrete down below. Which is a good ten foot drop. He is OK. Just stupid and that's unrelated.

4. The dishwasher falls out of the wall. And the dish rack comes rolling out onto the floor, or my foot, or the dog. And the dishes all fall out and break or spill out everywhere and need to be re-washed and scraped of pug hair.

5. The downstairs has asbestos ceilings and asbestos tiles and asbestos tar adhesive holding down the asbestos tiles. No plumber or construction worker or person of intelligence will come down and work on our house for even just one day, even one hour, because exposure might make them die a horrible death many years from now. So we have that to look forward to.

Living here reminds me every day of my life that I am full of myself and I'm an idiot and I am living in a place that I said I could fix, but instead endangers my family and neighbors and dog and thus makes me want to cry every minute I'm in it.

Brett and I share an odd factoid. We have both moved over 30 times. Our families broke and set and re-broke repeatedly like bones that didn't knit right. Brett moved almost 20 times before he was 21. NOT counting his mission. I moved, I think, 27 times total. My son has moved six times in his short 8 years. We all are tired. We are all disappointed. We all want our lives to just...start. To just have friends and family come for dinner, to have neighborhood kids stay over night, to use a working bathtub. If Brett had lost a limb in the military or one of my kids had been diagnosed terminal we might qualify for an Extreme Home Make-over. But we are not messed up enough as to receive television charity and not pulled together enough to qualify to be what we have always wanted to be. Just a normal family.

Get out your copy of Singles...

2008-07-22T18:25:00.000-07:00

I love fashion and I have never posted anything about it, really. I follow it religiously which has gotten me into trouble in the past. (See Prom Dress Debacle on Top 5 Most Embarrassing list from past blog entry.) I wouldn't blame you for thinking I know nothing about it were we ever to meet. I follow it on the inside. Brett has his music, I have my fashion. But I don't know how he does it since there are new bands nearly every five minutes and half of their music sounds the same.

I don't have many talents. I really don't. And especially not compared to Brett. But for as long as I can remember I have been able to tell what's going to happen in fashion. I may or may not choose to participate, but I know what's going on. My ex-step sister Amanda who lives in Reno informed me about a year ago that the 80's were coming back! See, with hip networks like this how can I not know what's going to be cool.

So to inform you all officially, get ready to WELCOME IN THE 90'S. It's brewing like a pot of coffee at The Central Perk. All of the old music is subversively being routed into soundtracks, girls in Doc's are in magazines and even Urban Outfitters is showing 8-10 eye work boots with babydolls. Teen Vogue practically began it. They primed the pump by showing boots with party dresses close to two years ago. Dakota Fanning wore MJ platform combat boots with a taffeta dress in her Teen Vogue spread, and she asked to keep them. It's been snowballing since. About then Marc Jacobs came out with a fall line very inspired by Grunge. It was waaaay too early for most and he quickly recanted with his next show being nearly Chanel like in nature. But it's the decade he is sprinting to embrace since it was the first decade he found recognition. But I digress... Brett and I just watched an episode of Fear Itself and the girl was in a great jersey grecian dress with combat boots. The Dark Knight even will begin to turn a lot of young people towards darker themes and old school goth inspired fashion, like The Crow did. Dust off your Doc's if you've got 'em.

Don't believe me? Let's do the math. The children of the 90's are coming into the 13-25 year old age group where they are asked to pick and choose and they will use old faint memories of what their big brothers and sisters did and wore to inspire them. And they'll use the excuse that they think it's funny to "remember" grunge. But because no one wants to be a full-on copy cat it will be twisted up with small doses of the 30's and 60's and Emo and Punk and a generous helping of hipster thanks to American Apparel and UO.

But one thing is for sure. None of those themes have anything to do with Paris Hilton. In fact any girl that considers herself a fashionista ( a term I loathe, LOATHE!! ) and has used tons of money to buy her style will have to start using it to look like she's a broke artist, or not be cool. Celebutants will fire their agents and publicists. Celebrities will be falling all over themselves trying to remind people they have street cred while sporting designer combat boots and utility handbags. But money will be out, power to the people. Oh, and it also is an election year and we are in a recession that is not being called a recession. So, go new grunge style, what ever you will be called! I will look forward to seeing you hit your stride next couple of years on the coasts and reach Utah in 2011-2012 if the wind is right. I already bought my slumpy vintage dresses and round-toed wingtips. Join me and begin a revolution.