no, not now

I had thought that Tuesday would be a perfect day for my Memorial Day weekend recap but it's not. First of all, I don't have the pictures from Kristina's camera. They are needed to really showcase the events. Secondly, I had a day from hell at work so I don't have the mental energy to be my witty self (ha ha).

All I can say is that it was by far one of the best weekends I've had in quite some time (excluding mine and Lisa's camping trip in March). This city slicker realized how fun it can be to try on the country bumpkin routine. I will leave this post with some pictures from my Zion's trip with Lisa in March. It's only a couple months behind. Perhaps my memorial recap won't take near as long!

do you realize...

...that music is a lot like clothes? Well, at least that's the epiphany I had this morning. I heard that you should purge the clothes you haven't worn in over a year. Organizational "experts" say the likelihood of wearing that garment again is slim to none. It may be resurrected by someone that picked it up at the local thrift shop but it will likely never see daylight on your body again. And therein lies the catch... it's not "you will never wear it again, it's only "likely" that you won't. So you hold on to that top from the late 90s because maybe, just maybe it will be fashionable once more or you may fit in to that pair of jeans again. Let's face it, even though the 80s is making a shameful comeback those vintage heels and polkadot dress aren't quite the same as the reincarnations. You end up looking like a fashion victim rather than a fashionista. Several moves has helped me to become quite good at the closet purging. I wish the same could be said for the music vomiting.

I keep my old cd's, I burn them on to iTunes and sometimes I even sneak them on to Vinny. I tell myself that even though a song has not reached my ears in several years, I will listen to it again and like it. Yet, when those songs play on my computer I quickly change it. I just don't dig them anymore. I justify keeping them for nostalgia reasons because sometimes when "I Saw the Sign" or "Red, Red Wine" comes on to the radio, I listen and think fondly of church dances (ironic that the Ub40 song was played at a youth church dance where strong beliefs against alcohol abound). The nostalgia is practically non-existent for my early twenties music. Yet, I just can't delete the songs. The music doesn't require a lot of disc space and you never know when you might need to get your groove on to Nick, Brian, AJ, Howie and Kevin (it was a gift that I thoroughly enjoyed at 21, so sue me). The reality is that it is like nails on a chalkboard now. Likely the music purge will have little long term effects on me. The songs will be dismissed as easily as my awful overalls that met their fate in 2001. And still my hand shakes and I falter as I attempt to hit "clear forever." I-just-can't-do-it.

bird's eye view

I remember a little poem my father taught me as a child

Little birdie in the sky, dropped a doo-doo in my eye. Me big girl, me don't cry, me just glad that cows don't fly.

Exiting the gym after my early morning workout last week, I saw not one, not two, not even three bird shats on my car. It was a machine gun hit from the front all the way to the rear of my car. My friends had parked on either side of me and their cars were sparkling clean. Grumbling and sweaty, I attempted to get the white turds off my windshield using my wiper blades only to discover I was out of washer fluid. Smeared crap blurred my view until I could successfully clean it off. I swear I get hit more because my car is silver. I have been unsuccessful finding proof but it never fails that it is my car. Stupid birds.

I'm a forgiving lass though. Yesterday I came to the rescue of a hummingbird stuck in my friend's window. We managed to get the little thing back in to the open air, free as only a bird can be.

touching you, touching me

Huggers and touchers and sweeties, oh my! I really, really like hugs but I really, really dislike hugging people I'm not close to. Take for instance the person you barely met that gives you a hug and then embraces you again when you leave. This person can be the same sex or the opposite sex. It doesn't matter, they hug without discretion. I currently have one of those in my life. She is really kind and she's Canadian, so I don't quite have the heart to tell her to back off the hugging.

Then there was a luncheon last week with a constant toucher. The chap may have been trying to get some of his physical needs met by constantly touching me but I didn't think it was near as entertaining as he. There are also those folks that find pushing you over or slamming in to your back amusing. Guess my co-worker missed the memo. Note to all employees: Non-reciprocal pushing and shoving is not appropriate in the workforce (nor outside of it). It is not entertaining and Aisy wants it to stop.

Tonight while shopping a nice clerk boosted my self-esteem by letting me know I was a sweetie. Although I don't think I've seen her before, we must be close because she called me hon several times. Well, sweeties, I'm off camping for a night for work, so hons, I'll check back later. Have a good night sweeties.

money

Today I made a cool five cents with minimal effort. All I had to do was drive back to the Mac store and return earbuds that were purchased 30 days earlier. I'm sure it didn't cover the gas but I'll take it. Apparently the sales tax on April 12 was five cents less than it was today. Go figure!

It's rather pathetic how much this made me smile but I am rarely graced with fortuitous events. My father has won a television and a stereo, yet the Calgary Stampede dream home still eludes him. The last time I can remember winning anything was a cake during the cake walk at my elementary school fair (along with half the school). I'm not quite sure why I still get that flutter of anticipation when tickets are being drawn. It's never my ticket, it's never my name and yet, I have that faint hope... only to feel the excitement drain out of my body. The winner smiles and his/her friend says "Man, you always win something." It seems to me that there are two kinds of people: prize winners and non-prize winners. There has to be a lucky gene just waiting to be coded by scientists.

The question is... are you feeling lucky?

the sounds of science

Ms. Kaz sent a link today about a truly unorthodox way to cure asthma and allergies. I had seen a show several years back using a similar technique (sans the feces) to help with several autoimmune disorders but hadn't heard much since. I'm still not sure how keen I would be to walk in human dung to rid myself of the lifelong pain I've experienced having asthma but I'm one of the lucky ones. I only had several bad bouts as a teenager that required two to three hours in the emergency room. My mother patiently waited, read, and snoozed through my treatments. Even then my asthma seemed mild to some of the young kids I would see getting treatments. Nothing was more tragic than seeing a young infant in an incubator with oxygen and ventolin flowing through it. As I got older, my asthma became more manageable and now I rarely require my ventolin. Sure there are those amusing moments when my wheezing is mistaken for a hissing cat but that is easily remedied with a few puffs of medicine. An asthmatic just learns to carry their ventolin at all times... just like keys.

This story touched a nerve for several reasons. My first job out of university was working with children diagnosed with autism. I saw numerous parents searching in vain for something, anything, that might help their child become "less autistic." You could see the hope with a new idea and the devastation when it didn't work. More recently I've been supporting my close friends as they've struggled to even figure out what the medical issue is so that they can find appropriate treatment. But the situation that hits straight to home is a health issue my family has struggled with for many years. It's not a life threatening disease but it has still been a long and painful journey, one that modern medicine has yet to be able to reverse. There has been a lot of traditional and non-traditional interventions and some tremendous sacrifices made to help the situation.

When I think of all these people, the common thread is that there is very little that they wouldn't try in hopes that it would help. As a society we've come such a long way as far as treating medical problems and yet, we still seem so far away. At what point do we give up and say we've done all that we can do? How far do we go to find that one cure? It's the realization that medicine will only get us so far, as we simply cannot control or fix everything. There will always be situations that seem unfair or senseless. Yet, life has an amazing ability to find balance. Just as there will be misery, there to will be joy. In the midst of the frustration and tears our family has felt over the illness, there is still laughter. I strongly believe it has created a deeper unity in our family and made us more appreciative of what we do have. Maybe we all need to have our own Cameroon experience... revel those moments when you walk in crap, as you might just find what you need.

this place is a prison

As I pulled in to my garage yesterday, a woman quickly jumped out of a van and asked to talk to me. She identified herself as a bounty hunter, showed me a wanted sign, and asked if I had seen the man in the picture. My response was "no", my thought was "why does she think I know him?" She asked me how well I knew the people living beside me or the cars they drove. I, of course, knew nothing about them. I just haven't gotten around to throwing that block party, let alone waving at neighbours. Ms. Bounty Hunter told me that my next-door neighbour is dating the man in question. Apparently I can receive a reward if I call in with any information. Maybe it's time for me to throw a party.

Guess this town isn't so sleepy after all!

drink to me, babe, then

If you don't want to drink to me, then drink to avocados. I've never been a fan of that greenish goo until recently. I still can't eat them plain but I've discovered the best way to eat a wrap that absolutely must have an avocado. This new fetish started out so innocently when I was in Moab. I ordered a vegetarian wrap and the woman forgot the avocado. It just didn't taste right and I was fixated on it all day. When Kris and I got home we promptly made our own. It was a wheat wrap with hummus (I recommend the red pepper hummus), bell peppers, mushrooms, spinach, tomatoes and the tour de force... avocados. I have made several since then and it never fails to please. The most recent edition featured havarti cheese. My mind is constantly drifting to different foods I can add avocados to. What I can't figure out is why I suddenly like them. They've always been high on my "do not eat" list, almost tied with olives. All I know is that I think about them A LOT. I also know I still HATE olives.

Someone said recently that our taste buds change every eight years. I think it's crap but I am curious to see if eight years down the road I'll start obsessing over olives. I'd just like an answer as to why our tastes change. However, I'm too focused on making another wrap to go research it.

what i'm looking for

Today I had my very first date since moving back to Utah. I've heard that there are a plethora of eligible young men in my vicinity eager to date, apparently not to date me. My bad luck could be due to spending most of my time with married folks with little single networking or perhaps I am just a hideous beast. I'd like to believe it's the former but only time will tell.

Anyway, to fully appreciate my situation I think it is time to come out of the closet to my readers. No, I'm not an expletive dyke, as a client called me today, I'm a (gasp) online dater. Last year I joined LDSLinkup. It's really like marijuana of the online dating world. You get coaxed in to it by the sell that "It's a networking site. Married people are on it too. You don't have to use it to date." I've not only heard this but I've said it in a vain attempt to feel better about my choice. However, I believe that all single people, and perhaps some not so single people, have perused that site looking for a potential date. I have to admit that two good things have come out of it... Ange and David. After some time being on the link, I decided to start phasing myself out of it. I was on the verge of pulling my profile when my married friends came up with a "bright" idea. They not only thought I should stay on it but I should take the online thing further. Their stance was that this form of dating had become more and more accepted. They believed that plenty of normal people were on such sites and that if they were single it would be the way to go. My "favourite" thing about married people is that they can say what they would do if they were single but with an automatic by because they're currently attached. My true favourite thing about my friends is that they always have my best interest at heart. So, as time wore on I started to open my mind. Suddenly that heroine didn't seem so dangerous. What harm could it really do? I acquiesced and signed on to a dating site for one month.

The first "flirt" I received was from a 55 year old man. If I thought it appealing to date my dad, he might have stood a chance. I brushed it off and pushed on. I still wasn't really in to it but saw first hand success with friends. After a few emails from one young fellow, I finally caved and gave my number. I wasn't too stoked but again, I was working on my closed mindedness. The phone call was slightly awkward but I wondered if I was just trying to find something wrong. Apparently I'm picky which is confusing to me, as it's hard to be picky when there's nothing to choose from! Going back to the date... the first red flag was when the date revolved around just a movie. The second red flag was that it was at the dollar theatre. The third red flag was telling me I was cute. I typically take this as a compliment but when you've never met in person and have only talked for mere minutes, it makes for a most uncomfortable moment. I decided we needed to change the location. Dinner and movie is fine but just a movie is the most ridiculous way to get to know someone. The location was changed to Jamba Juices. I was tied up at work and at 5 minutes past the hour, he called to see if I was on my way. I thought I had at least a 10 minute window to be late but maybe he was just anxious. {For the record, I hate being late}

As we stood in line to get juice, I pondered how I got myself in to this. I'm working on being a nicer person (plus I was admonished by my father) and my blog is more to mock myself, so I won't go in to all the gory details. Bottom line is that it was awkward, I wasn't always sure how much he was listening and well, he had warts on his hand. He was nice but I have some ideas regarding social hierarchies. Theoretically I am appalled by such a thought, but realistically, we are in different castes. He asked if we could go out again and my instinct was to do the "um, well, okay" and never return his call. However, after the ministry airplane ride, I decided to buck up. I gently told him that I didn't think we had much in common and were in different places in our lives. The honesty felt good, the look in his eyes felt bad. This was my first taste with the hard drugs and I'm starting to think I need to quit all of them... even pot. Perhaps I need to give meth a try or even ecstasy but I think I may be a drug-free kind of kid.

I'm not judging online dating. I know a handful of people that have had success with it. I'm just not convinced I will be one of them. I can't fully embrace the idea and thus it clouds my experiences. As I close this post, my embarrassment dwindles. So few secrets left for my blog... Sometimes coming out of the closet is the best way to truly accept oneself. {Holds breath as she hits Publish Post}

he's a missionary man

As we know, things can happen when you fly. I've always been such a carefree flyer with little distraction but the last two times I have sat beside less than desirable plane partners. The first experience involved a married man that was just a little too sweet. He failed to recognize that the unwanted touching was not being reciprocated. Then yesterday I sat beside a young man coming back from a ministry in Los Angeles. I found this out within five minutes of sitting down beside him. Oh crap... I think he's going to want to talk to me. He asked if I could spare him a few minutes to talk and in my attempt to be nice I stated "Okay, just a few as I do want to read my book." I knew in the back of my mind that a few minutes would become the whole flight and kicked myself for not being completely honest. No, I really don't want to get in to a conversation. My book and music are more appealing, but thank you for asking. I'm going to kill Kris for checking out and putting on her headphones. That's the last time she gets the aisle seat. I was completely uninterested in the discussion as I knew he wouldn't convert me to his religion and he certainly had no interest in mine. His approach was totally off-putting. It revolved around guilt, fire and brimstone and humans inherent "badness." He wasn't too pleased when my response to "how was that for you" was "I don't really appreciate approaches that put me on the defence or attempt to make me feel guilty. I think preaching the positive aspects of spirituality get you further." He wanted to belabor his point of why it works but I was done. I ended it as politely as possible just as the plane hit the ground... longingly looking at Vinny and The Time Traveler's Wife.

I was trapped with no way out, he could not read my non-verbal cues (or chose to ignore them), his breath stunk, it was a wasted conversation and I was frustrated because I didn't just say no!

Are planes breeding grounds for getting trapped? Are there better places to trap someone? Have you been trapped or gotten out of one? I'm beginning to think me and planes might not mix.

today is such a special day

There is a great person I know who is celebrating a birthday today. Her behavior hasn't always been great, like the time she was grounded from playing Pacman on the Atari due to swearing or the time she threw a large jug of water on a kid (but he can be very bratty). She says some of her words funny, like tomato. She's taught me some good phrases like "lovely" or "just a titch" or "bloody hell" (okay the last one is a lie). Sometimes she gets frustrated with me because she'll say "that looks okay" but she really means "that looks good" and so I say "well is it just okay or is it good?" She doesn't realize that her subtlety, likely due to being British, feeds in to my neurosis. Well, she does realize it but forgets in the moment. Then she laughs at me and says "I forget how careful I have to be with you about the words I use." Unlike my one lie, this is true... it just happened this week regarding my new glasses.

She grows a mean garden and is a fabulous cook. I think her best quality is that she is loyal and devoted. Today I ate some Weetabix in her honour. Thank you to SuperTarget for carrying it down here in the USofA.

Happy Birthday Mum. I love you!

(Seeing as half of my family (excluding in-laws) celebrate their birthday within a week of each other... Happy birthday little brother that had the water deservedly thrown on him and happy birthday older sibling twins).
The cutest bird watcher I know!

one more reason...

to love my iPod.

I hate my earbuds for my beloved Vinny (aka 20GB photo iPod) because they don't stay in my ears. In my search for new earphones, I've discovered that it is likely faulty ears. I have yet to find new earbuds that stay in my ears... especially when I workout. As my search continues, I have gained a new appreciation for my originals.

It all started with laundry on Monday. I was pulling my socks out of the dryer when, in horror, I realized that I had washed and dried my earbuds. Okay, so it's a long story but I had put my iPod in to a sock when I went to Moab. Yeah, yeah, I'm weird. Anyway I had taken Vinny out but left behind the buds. I untangled the mess and plugged them in... and they worked! Now I have clean earbuds that still don't stay in my ears but I'm happy. Well, happy but still shopping around.

everlasting love

Unlike the new Pringles ad campaign, I don't think of love, let alone the everlasting kind, when I think of crisps*. I do think of my niece singing "Wraith Pinned To The Mist and Other Games" by Of Montreal. I made my sister a mixed CD and my nieces apparently always ask for "Auntie's CD." Avery is five and although she doesn't really want to go to Antartica because she thinks it would be too cold, she really likes singing that song. Now if only I could get her to sing it to me over the phone.

While I missed being a part of my family Easter festivities, I did spend the weekend in Moab for the 40th annual Jeep Jamboree. My biggest regret is not owning a digital camera. I have never seen so many jeeps and so many rednecks all in one place. The sweetest mullet belonged to a man with silver hair down to his mid-back. The front was of course cut short and neat. This was accompanied by an equally astounding grey handlebar moustache. I'm not mocking this man because I was truly in awe of him. There were those worthy of my mockery, like the beer drinking idiots that stood mere feet away from the jeep crawlers or the kids jumping off the bridge with only a narrow margin of error (incidentally a 16 year old missed it and shattered his ankle). I decided to fit in with fellow voyeurs by getting a nice sunburn on my left arm while spending a few hours at Potato Salad Hill. It took me some time to realize that people were actually hoping for a rollover. We left there to do some of our own driving and I was completely amazed at how much fun I had riding in an open jeep. It might just be everlasting love.

However, true love was spent hiking in the Fiery Furnace. It is one big maze. There are no marked trials and you are constantly coming to dead ends. It had to be one of the coolest places I've hiked in some time. Angel's Landing in Zions comes a close second. My new goal is to explore Utah to its fullest this year because when I'm outside I do find everlasting love...

*The use of crisps are my tribute to my British heritage which I also love. Crisps=Chips

bullseye

It's amazing how much good Super Target can do for one's soul. It can bring to mind appreciation for what you have and rekindle fond memories. I know, I know, it's a chain store but I'm convinced it's magical.

Last Thursday I was getting my eye exam at Target as it is one of the providers for my insurance. By the way, I chose some funky new glasses that will be showcased when they come in. To bide some time after the awful pupil dilation (I think I'd rather risk eye disease then go through that again), I did a little grocery shopping. This Target carries the Skinny Cow peanut butter ice cream sandwiches that seem a rare commodity in this town. As I was waiting for my $120 grocery bill, that was really supposed to be $30, to ring through, I heard loud wailing and gnashing of teeth. I looked over and saw a distressed boy yelling at his mother about his lack of a toy. It was apparently not fair that she was buying toys for other kids but not him. He even tried to lay a few unsuccessful hits on her. She calmly headed to the register, red faced and obviously trying to keep it together. I gave her a smile as she walked him out of the store because the last thing she needed was a snide remark or disapproving glance. I thought "I'm glad that's not me." There is always someone else who is having a worse day than you, and really, life is pretty darn good.

So, fast forward another five minutes as I headed to my car, smiling, groceries in tow, grateful that I have not yet endured that kind of kid havoc. A car alarm started to sound. I was immediately taken back to an embarrassing moment likely triggered by the flustered mother. The age is hazy, but I think I was about 13 or 14, running errands with my mom in a ridiculous sports car that my dad owned for less than six months. I thought sitting in the car was a better alternative than going inside to Canada's equivalent of the DMV. Little did I know back then that government agencies move at a snail's pace. After 15 impatient minutes I wanted out. I went to open the door of that silly blue corvette (or was it black) and the stupid alarm went off. Panic set in as I realized that the doors still would not unlock and I was trapped inside a honking car. People walked by confused as to why I didn't turn off the alarm. One man even attempted to talk to me through the noise while I gestured that I couldn't get out or make the noise stop. My mom didn't arrive until long after the car alarm had gone off several times. I was sure I had endured all the humiliation a teen could, but little did I know what junior high still had in store! I had almost forgotten about that incident until that rainy night last week in the Super Target's parking lot. Yet the rain couldn't deter the laughter...

Go to Target, it might just change your night.

creepy crawlies

I've never been the type that was afraid of mice, snakes or insects of any kind. This may be due in part to my brother that is just older than me. When we were kids he would catch garter snakes in the ravine behind us and keep them until they died. We would spend some afternoons pulling the legs of Daddy Long Legs or get paid to eat ants. My brother was a genius. They don't taste like much of anything and you get enough money to buy candy at Macs. It was a much more honorable way to make a quick 50 cents to buy treats, rather than giving your ass-wipe vice principle a compliment so that he would give you a candy. Besides, when you finally reached him at recess and told him you liked his tie, he'd usually be out of candy and you'd have wasted an insincere compliment. As my brother got older, his bedroom turned into a reptilian haven. He had geckos, iguanas, and snakes. He also kept around several mice. Some were for feeding John Wayne (his iguana), others were for his rocket adventures. One particular mouse, Super Dave, managed to live through several rocket launches. Most of the other guys died before their parachute hit the ground. I suppose their heart just couldn't take it.

Out in the natural environment I'm fine with these ugly things but indoors they skeeve me out. We recently killed a mouse in my apartment and I shuddered to think of it running across my carpet. My skin crawled the other day when a centipede creeped near my foot in my work bathroom. I almost had a heart attack when a bat fluttered near my face when I was fast asleep. Who would have thought a bat would fly in to a bedroom on the 19th floor of an apartment smack dab in the middle of a downtown city? That was awful and awfully funny. My mom's response was that the bat was likely more scared than me. I couldn't give a flying fig about the bat's feelings. Now, I like dogs but the other day I saw one gnawing on a dead animal carcass. There was no one around and I imagined Rover wondering back home and licking his master's face after ravaging a dead animal. Sick, sick, sick. Animals belong in context and certain things need to stay inside and others need to stay out.

it's not always the best medicine

Last night I was procrastinating going to bed. I had the television on while I read some things on the internet and the blasted laugh track on a sitcom was driving me insane. Apparently we can take the humour training wheels off for movies and certain television shows (blessed Arrested Development, Scrubs and The Office) but for the most part we still need guidance. I'm just so thankful that television producers help me understand that the poorly written line was indeed humorous. Oh, and I just laughed hysterically at that site gag thanks to that exuberant stranger (or computer) spewing from my Sanyo 20". Thanks for all the silly canned giggles to cue my senses about something so very funny. Thanks Hugh. Graham and I have discussed our disdain for the fakeness but all in vain. ABC, NBC, CBC and FOX all fall prey to this haunting sound.

I have no data to back it up, but I think weak sitcoms are directly correlated to the laugh track. One exception to my extensive research, spanning twenty odd years, would be Seinfeld. I have this fantasy about the extinction of canned laughter. In my television Utopia there would be a resurgence of well written comedies sans laugh track. My stomach would hurt and I would need TiVo to rewind the parts I missed due to laughing too hard. My doctor would ask to me to reduce my television consumption due to his concern that I might burst a blood vessel. The rock hard abs I always dreamed of would come to fruition as they would be exercised regularly.

Coming to my senses, I finally turned off the t.v. As I was drifting off to dreamland, I pondered equally obnoxious things... ah, the cheesy commercial jingle. What ranks high on your obnoxious list?

full circle

My day on Friday started and ended with two different police officers. Once all the dust settled, I found it fairly amusing. On my way to work, an aggressive arsehole sent me in to the turning lane when he chose to take my lane regardless of the fact that our cars were parallel. It scared the living daylights out of me so I gave him a honk. His response was to give me the finger, followed by more hand gestures, followed by the finger, followed by reversing very close to my vehicle, followed by yet more finger wagging. I was silently raging, fantasizing about all the awful, horrible things I would like to do to him. He burned through the light only to cut off yet another innocent driver. I have never called the police to report this kind of behaviour but I was absolutely infuriated by him and the fact that I was now in a horrible mood. So, I took down his plate and called the local police station. The police officer was polite and understanding. He said he would give the driver a "talking to" if they managed to find him, both of us knowing full well it wouldn't happen.

I managed to shake it off, as I had some killer therapy sessions ahead of me. By the time I went to the Guster concert I was fully recovered. On the drive home, Lisa and I were discussing the concert and her impending departure when I suddenly saw flashing lights in my rear view mirror. Terror struck as I asked her "Was I speeding? Did we go through a light?" The officer came to my window and called me by name, well, the phonetic pronunciation. He seemed slightly confused as I told him he had the correct spelling but the pronunciation was different. He then proceeded to tell me my car was flagged as not having insurance. We had to open my trunk as I had left my purse in there during the concert. I showed him my insurance slip that had unfortunately expired a week ago. I assured him I did indeed have insurance but that the new slip was at home, yadda yadda yadda. It was all true but I didn't know if my sweetness and sincerity would fly. He "gave me a pass this time" and then I asked if I had done anything wrong. Apparently I lack a plate light which I didn't know I had to have. I think he was just reaching for a reason to pull this cutie over. Speaking of cute, Lisa was desperately searching for a ring on his finger. I was much relieved and drove on home. I found out later that the section of road I was pulled over in is crawling with police at night. I guess it is the bad part of town... if such a thing exists in this sleepy place.

March 31st will go down as my cop day, while my niece Parker will celebrate the day of her birth. Since being in Utah I've been pulled over twice. In fact, the only time I have ever been pulled over is in the United States. I guess Canadian cops like me or the USA brings me bad karma.

frustrations and not

There are several things that irk me in life...

1. Word Verification on blogger. I use it to avoid spammers and it's a great tool. But somewhere in my mind I have a verification blocker. I usually type in the wrong letters at least once every four times. Irritating.

2. Being stuck with a narcissist for an inordinate amount of time with no way out (and I mean no way out). *Shudder

3. Gmail ads. I love my gmail account but I noticed recently that when I'm reading an email, ads run along the side that are related to the content of my email. I feel spied on and I don't like it.

4. Little indie kids that create "mosh pits" to bands that are really more dance oriented like oh, say Franz Ferdinand.

There are several things that I like in life...

1. Ange laying the smack down to said indie kids at the Franz Ferdinand/Death Cab for Cutie concert. Displaying all the attitude a teen could muster they said "It's called moshing" as though old gals like ourselves didn't even know what that was. I wanted to tell them what true moshing was but didn't have the energy. Ange said they could do whatever they wanted, as long as they didn't bump in to her. They talked tough, but never did it again. We sensed our age there.

2. Indie kids leaving after Franz, so we could enjoy Ben Gibbard's musical goodness without the irritation.

3. Spending a week with Lisa on her spring break. (Why didn't I become a teacher?) Zion's national park better be ready for our camping extravaganza.

4. Naps on a Sunday afternoon.

The End.

pen and paper please

Dearest Rhett,

Imagine my luck to discover both of us eating at the same restaurant last night! Your presence was really distracting and I found it difficult to engage in dinner conversation. Would you have thought it strange if I had grabbed your arm as you passed by my table and said "I can't wait to hear you sing live!" Seeing as I've been accosted by a musician, I thought it best not to accost one. Your newest picture on your website makes you look a little too girly. You are much more attractive and manly in person, although a tad short. I'll admit that I have a weakness for musicians, so their hotness is automatically increased by their profession. But Mr. Miller, my jaw would drop even if you didn't sing or play the guitar.

Anyway, I thought the change of shirt for the performance was a good choice. That ugly blue sweater you had on at the restaurant was very early 90s. I didn't know you wore glasses, which were pretty cool. I can see why you took them off to perform... who knew you moved around so much on stage. Speaking of being on stage, you were so damn hot up there. Your voice, as usual, was amazing. I liked the booty shaking moves and how much you swayed your hips. The arm thing you did when you played was cool. Your sex appeal grew even more as your hair got sweaty. I even kinda liked it when I could see the spit fly when you really got in to your singing. The clincher was when you sang "Question" in English and French. I'm a hopeless romantic.

What did you think of the dancing drunk? (click to watch).
He was in the back for most of the gig but wandered up for the encore. He was a riot! So, even though I inhaled plenty of carcinogens, was scared by a coyote and owl on the drive home, and was exhausted all day today, it was well worth it. You're amazing. If that ring ever comes off your finger, maybe you'd consider me your "Four-Eyed Girl".

Your adoring (and not completely crazy) fan,

Aisy

the phrase i hate

I went to a women's dinner social tonight for my church congregation. I was at a table with a bunch of strangers and we were all doing the small talk thing. They were all a little too boring for my liking but I'm trying to get to know people. This beautiful blonde was across the table from me. She just moved from Nebraska in hopes to find more dating prospects. When it was her turn to dish her bio she talked about her double major degree she had just received. She wasn't sure if she was going to do more school, probably not a masters, but something that if her husband got sick or something she would be trained in a job. Her first degree was one of those liberal arts that doesn't get you a job.

Ack... cough... sigh...

This phrase has bothered me for so long that I can't remember when it started. It's not that I am opposed to women staying at home, in fact most of the women I admire did just that. It's actually a bit of a relief not to be confronted with that decision of work or stay home but anyway, back to sweet Nebraskan. I smiled and nodded but what I really wanted to say was:

What if you don't get ever get married??? (This is an unlikely scenario for this bombshell as the Provo boys will snap her up in an instance, but still). What if you find staying at home just doesn't float your boat and even though your husband is raking in six figures a year, you'd like to do a little work out of the house? Or what if he's perfectly healthy but you really need the second income to stay afloat? What about pursuing what you love regardless of the hypothetical future? Why does it have to come down to your husband? What about YOU?

I know I am heavily biased on this but I just hate, hate, hate that phrase. I suppose if that is how they really feel than they shouldn't have to censor for my easily agitated feminism. There are these really talented, amazing women who just bide their time. They don't pursue the non-husband and family dreams because of the fear that the husband and family dream won't come true if they do. My take has always been to do what I want at the time. If I had done the "work at a job I'm indifferent about because I'll quit when I marry and have kids" I'd be a morose 28 year old. Maybe I'm the naive one but I'd like to think I'm not, and I'm genetically predisposed to think I'm always right.

(Medial Thomas, I hope that was "womany" enough for you. And for a good laugh, check out the rest of Anne Taintors collection)