Nigel and Me.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.