comments

I wonder why more people don't leave comments on this blog. Is it perhaps they don't want to find themselves on the stabability scale?? Or is it they are afraid it could become fodder for some future post?? Maybe they feel it has all been said already and not worth the effort. I suppose it could be a complacency about the latest entry. I have a theory that no one is reading this anymore. Some may not value their own voice. You may all be in some cult which forbids the act of leaving a comment. I have heard tales of people being kidnapped and not allowed to use the internet. Maybe your dog ate your comment. Perchance some church calling got in the way. Perhaps it is fear of being found out that you read the swill I tend to write. Maybe you are offended. Conceivably your fingers are broken and you deeply want to comment but lack the necessary skill. It may be that aliens have assumed your likeness and don't understand English. Imaginably, you are tied up and can not break free from your bonds. I say to you, all of these are possible but suck it up and post a comment anyway. Dont be a baby.

Am I old??

I am officially a Unicorn.

How is this possible you wonder?? Think about it. Is there anyone whiter than me? I too wander in this wilderness and when people catch sight of me are often scared or attempt to catch me. I am reclusive and try to avoid them I even avoid most phone calls. I love salad. (akin to grass) I have loved grass in my life as well. When I get mad or agitated, I stomp my feat. I have been misunderstood by most people. I love flowers and have, on occasion, eaten them. I consider them a treat. I possess magical powers and can get people to do things I want without them knowing exactly why they did it. (ok so it is mostly just Nathan) Sometimes I run for no reason at all. I have a long mane of hair. It often is referred to as a pony tail. And the final reason is because today I found a long, wiry, stiff and erect silver horn (hair) sticking straight out of the top of my head. How I have missed it while it has been growing to its current length, I will never know. Unicorns are supposed to be wise and highly favored so I guess that will be my reward for dealing with "the hair" as I am sure I will come to call it.

(upon its discovery I immediately had my husband pull it out)

A new post

I now have a teenager. (Now that is funny)

Moons over my hammy...

Yesterday was Dad's birthday, the big 59! My father is most unlike other fathers i know. He is musical and funny and angry and sarcastic all at the same time. It is a winning combination. I have been thinking a lot about him this past month and remembering all kinds of funny things about him. (thus the "got milk" post) I recruited the help of my siblings to purchase him some studio time so he could record some of the many songs he has written (in his head) over the years so that we would, have some kind of record of his prolific song writing ability. I searched and searched for a card just right to put the gift certificate into. I found one that reminded me of him so much I had to have it. The card had a picture of an old man with a wrinkly but mooning. It said that while I was sure he had been mooned before he may not have been pruned.

When we were little and living in Phoenix, AZ, we had our share of crazy neighbors. (It is a curse I clearly still carry to this day. ) This particular neighbor was in the habit of peering over our fence and into our windows. My father had asked him to stop but he disavowed all knowledge and simply stated he was checking a meter on the outside of his own home.

One day we were sitting in our family room which had a large picture window in one wall. My dad calmly asked us children to leave the room and so we did. We only returned when we heard my mother dying with laughter.

Apparently, my father, the head of our household and shining example, had decided that enough was enough in regard to our peeping tom and was going to take matters in to his own... um.. Hands??

You guessed it!! He gave the creepy neighbor the old brown eye!! My mom was both horrified and consumed in a fit of laughter. My father, calm as a cucumber, simply stated that he gave the man something to stare at and did not suppose he would need to peer through our windows any more.

And he never did..... as far as we know.
They quickly sold their house and moved.
Ha Ha
Love you Dad!!

(if only it had been this pretty!!)

There was an old lady..

So, it is my observation that most neighborhoods have that one old lady. The one who is always looking out the window and who knows how many times each car passes her house and has an uncanny way of interrupting any "afternoon delights". I have known my share of crazy ladies in my day but I like to think the one that currently lives across the street is special. Maybe it is because this particular one annoys my husband so badly. Or maybe it is because my thirteen-year old daughter refuses to interact with her at all. But I find a special enjoyment out of her peculiar behavior.

While lying in bed one night my husband and I were talking about the day and my husband, who is ordinarily mellow, became supremely animated. He began talking about our neighbor having a mysterious disappearance and then recounted some of the strange requests he had received from her.

Upon our arrival in the neighborhood our lovely old lady scurried over to introduce herself. (or so I thought) I thought that we were going to enjoy the interlude but were unnerved when she asked if the man who lived in our newly rented abode had perished inside the home. I assured her I did not know and hoped he had not. She then peppered me with questions about the recent occupant and was unsatisfied with my lack of knowledge. Then, just before heading back across the street, she informed us that it was our duty as "neighbors" to take care of the older gentleman down the way, and that we also had to look out for each other. If only we had known exactly what that meant .

Later our neighbor commented about how much she enjoyed our Christmas decorations. I assumed (stupidly) that she meant our outside decorations. She brought over some goodies. I assumed (stupidly) that they were fresh. She then went on to explain that she had received them as a gift a couple of weeks prior and did not want them anymore because she had eaten her fill. I thanked her as graciously as I could muster. As the holliday arrived she showed up again to give our family a gift. She brought in a basket filled with used toys and last years whitening milk chocolate. As we exchanged our gift with her, she stated that she had "really enjoyed watching our little family around our Christmas tree." Stunned I just thanked her and ushered her to the door. Aaah there is nothing like knowing you are not alone.

As the years have gone by, we have had strange exchange after strange exchange with this woman. She periodically brings us a half eaten cake or bag of candy that is clearly years old. She got angry with my daughter for asking to use her phone when ours had a problem. She often lurks about the "hood" talking to herself and picking up random objects and moving them around. She has a daughter whom she says lives with her but whom we never see and are not positive exists. One warm southern Utah day in early spring she ran outside with old towels to wrap up my children who were playing outside without coats. She showed up on our doorstep with petition and photographic evidence of everyone's lawns that were not "green enough" in hand. (nevermind that it was January) She was going to take the matter up with the HOA.

By far though, my favorite tales of this woman come from my husband who, by the time we had talked about all the things she had done that we found strange, had gotten more worked up and had some stories that I had not previously known.

He stated that it started with the dryer. She told him she had gotten a new dryer and just needed the hose hooked up. When she invited him into her house she made him stay in the kitchen while she looked for the hose, she must have misplaced it. She cautioned him that her "daughter" was sleeping and he needed to be quiet. She took so long he almost left. The hose she produced was too long and she wanted him to cut it with rusty sissors. She acted put out that he would need to have a tool to cut it. As he was installing it the door to the laundry closet was hitting him in the butt. He finally gets the hose on and while pushing the dryer back into position, the dryer made a noise and she shushed him. (strike one)

On another occasion she told him that she has a piece of furnature she needs moved. He goes over to help. The "daugher" is "sleeping". Again he was told to be quiet and not wake her. The old lady led him to a bedroom and does not say anything for a bit. Then she tells him she thinks the arrangement will be ok but asks him to set her digital clock. He emphasized to me that it is not a dificult clock to set and that it is clearly marked, but he does it anyway. Then he looks at her awaiting something and she says nothing and so he leaves. This one is a particular thorn in his side because she lured him there on false pretenses. (strike two)

The last straw is, he thinks his first strike with her. (She gave him the stink eye for a while after this one.) He recounts that she knows when he gets home. He is disgusted while he does her voice saying "why does he make me wait so?" So upon his arrival home, and before he reaches the door, she approaches him and without greeting (he is sure she does not know his name) just starts talking. She tells him she has a new landscaping project in her backyard. He is convinced that because he comes home covered with concrete dust, she sees him as the "construction guru". She asks him if he can get a bunch of rocks and bring them to her. He asks for clarification and she tells him she wants to dig out some dirt and have a rock patio. He informs her there are companies that do that very thing. To which she declares "well, you have a truck". I guess my hubby looks like a guy who can get rocks? She was deflated upon my husbands lack of rock getting ability and stormed off in a huff. My husband views this one as a victory because he got a strike.

Then about three weeks later after many distainfull looks, he comes home to see a pile of rocks in her driveway. She is going back and forth with a wheelbarrow. Nathan is sure she is going to ask for some help, this seems like the kind of thing and elderly lady should ask a young male neighbor, but apparently He only gets one strike. She gets two. Apparently you have to add them together to equal an out.

Have you any dreams you'd like to sell

I know, I know. I said I would write everyday but then, life happened. So I plan to be as prolific as possible to please the population. (and apparently I am going to use alliteration to do it).



Today, while I was rocking my baby to sleep, I was singing to her a song from Disney's Cinderella, "A dream is a wish your heart makes" and I got to thinking about it. (which is pretty much a given since while you are rocking a baby there is not much else to do but think)
A dream is a wish my heart is making??? I can totally buy that when I have been dreaming about being thin and gorgeous and wanted by everyone I see. And I can see my heart wishing for some crazy house with trap doors and secret passage ways that somehow magically morphs into another house and then into a park or some other place. But, I can only hope that not all my dreams are wishes my heart is making. I sometimes dream about killing the crazy old woman across the street who takes pictures of all the houses in the neighborhood to prove that they are not keeping their lawns green enough. What about when I dream I am peeing? Or what about the dream about falling off the curb and jerking awake? I am positive I do not want to go to school or church naked or with my skirt tucked into my underwear. I also have dreamed of jumping off of Angel's Landing in Zion and falling to my death. Last night I dreamed that I had to run away from some people who were trying to take my husband and then I had to shoot them with a 50 caliber riffle. And what about those dreams that are so random and take you from one place to the next and from situation to situation so that when you wake up you are tired from all the activity?? Is my heart wishing for those too?? I guess there is some truth to that song. I guess that secretly I do want my crazy neighbor to go away and I do wish I could fly off of Angel's Landing and I would shoot people trying to hurt my husband but it makes you think about your dreams Huh?? But be careful, because the song also states "have faith in your dreams and someday, Your rainbow will come smiling through." If rainbows start smiling at you, you may need to seek professional help, or lay off the acid. I wish you all good dreams tonight because, "the dream that you wish may come true."


Watch out crazy neighbor!! Ha Ha

Got Milk??

Milk as a beverage? Sounds normal to most of you I am sure but, if you knew my family whilst we were growing up you found that milk, despite it having all characteristics of a beverage, is not.
My parents are nuts. This is something that over the years I have come to embrace and enjoy. Every once in a while their brains will come up with something that goes down in history.

As teenagers we were, I think, normal in our milk consumption. We poured it over cereal and dunked our duplex cookies into it. I think we even dared to consume it out of a glass on occasion.

My father, who arrived home often to find the milk jug empty, just lost it one day and gathered all us kids together for a talking to. We dragged ourselves to the family room filled with dread. What had our parents found out we had done? Each of the four of us ran through what must have been a million scenarios in our minds. My father was angry. You could see it from the little vein on his neck that was pulsating. I was just sure we were busted. He stood before us and we prepared for the worst. He chastised us for being ungrateful and selfish and with empty milk jug in hand declared,

"Don't drink milk as a beverage!!!!"

What?? We each looked at each other puzzlingly. Did we dare laugh? Was he making a joke. And then one of my brothers said it. What we had all been thinking but had been too afraid to say.

"Well, what should we drink it as?"

That was all it took. My father stormed off in a fit of rage and refused to speak to us. We all had a hearty laugh and to this day all crack up whenever we pour ourselves a tall glass of milk.

St. Patrick's Day

Today is my Grandma's birthday. She is turning 89 which is crazy old and despite being a member of my insanely funny family is not, herself that amusing. (unless you count being cold and distant funny) But, I do credit her with the insanity of at least part of my family because it was her special brand of crazy that produced my mother and therefore my own personal brand.

Being that it is her birthday I have, for weeks, been toiling about what gift she might like to receive. Nothing comes to mind and I began to assess why I was having such trouble. I decided it is simple. She is old and there is no gift to give a woman who is basically awaiting death.
I thought for a moment that dressing up as death and paying her a visit might be appropriate and then the shock of it might get the job done and for that, she might thank me.

I also toyed with the idea of pitching in for a casket. Practical and beautiful, a wining combination. This too had to be abandoned due to financial shortcomings. The thought also occurred to me to send her a pillow and a weight, but again, no, it just did not fit. (and she might not be able to lift the weight).

I finally came to the conclusion that I should just send her some arsenic with a card that says "Bon Voyage", but Nathan reminded me that sending that kind of stuff through the mail was a federal offense so, nix on that one too. I guess a card that says"too bad you are old and this card is my gift" will have to do. I hope she likes it..


I'll let you know!

The Stabability Scale

Last weekend my hottie of a husband and I were at a local Denny's (which is not something we usually do but were feeling in the mood to transport ourselves back to high school)

There were, at the after hours hang out,the usual suspects lurking about, we saw the high school jocks who were with their dad who was clearly still "livin the dream", around the corner there were the tech kids from school who all believe that actors are an extra on the stage and they could really just put out a killer light show and wow the crowd.

There were some goths outside smoking, but I guess now they call them emo. I saw some popular girls, but they left with all the disdain that they entitle themselves to. We celebrated as a merry band of geeks trotted by and dared to sit at the bar where I always assumed only the dirty truckers sat. We also observed the sexually active teenage couple who could not eat their own food but had to have a disgusting exchange of food during a long and repellent kiss. There were also a whole crowd of island kids who genuinely looked hungry and like they might have a legitimate reason to be there.

There was, of course, the mom with all the screaming kids and no bra (classic) and the couple who surely loved Elvis and drove an old pickup truck and had lived in their house in Central for about forty years all while ignoring any kind of advances in fashion or technology. And we cant forget the couple who were clearly fighting and wished Denny's had a special domestic violence room that allowed them to fight and get something to eat at the same time.

Our waitress was nice and competent and I had no complaints about her. She seemed to be happy to be at work, which is not something one usually gets at a Denny's late at night.

As we ate our, well for lack of a better term, food, and noticed the aroma of the coffee that smelled as if it may have been scraped off of the bottom of the blacktop, I realized that I had no desire to hurt our very unusual waitress. Now if that seems normal to you and nothing special to report about I say to you that you have not been truthful to yourselves.

I announced to my husband that I felt that our waitress fell below the Stababilty Scale. You see, almost everyone else in the restaurant falls somewhere on the scale. Heck, if I am really honest with myself, almost everyone falls on the scale somewhere. If you are unfamiliar with the Stabability Scale let me enlighten you.

It is a 1-10 scale.
1- a desire to hurt but not wound so just a slight grazing of an appendage.

2- a desire to hurt and leave a mark. Band aid required.

3- A deep stab through leg flesh. Stitches required and they may limp for the remainder of their lives.

4- Stabbing an organ like the appendix that you can loose and not miss. This one could even be considered helpful to the recipient but is none the less satisfying.

5- Stab to the face. Not in the eye but enough to cause severe facial scaring.

6- A stab so hard you loose a finger or toe.

7- Stabbing a vital organ.

8- Multiple stab wounds but not fatal. Hospitalization is required.

9- A good old fashion stab to the Eye!!

10- OJ Simpson. You know.

Now you may not want to admit it but, everyone, at some point, wants to kill someone else they know. Even if it is just a little bit.
We left Denny's and I am sure that the couple sitting behind us was more than just a little glad to see us go. I wish I would have had the guts to turn around and tell the woman where her nasty gazes my direction had landed her on the scale. But I guess she will just have to wonder.
Just for clarification, I have never stabbed anyone. But that does not mean I have never thought about it!!