Mouse Poo, Footprints, and You
I saw your footprints today
and breathed again.
I heard a song that reminded me of you
another, and another.
The radio was taunting me--
or was it laughing while reaching for my hand to draw me into the quiet of its embrace?
That one verse...
it was a zinger, alright.
The song made me smile and I spaced out, lost in thoughts or lack thereof.
And then that verse leapt into my chest and pushed out a sob.
That was cool.
Your finger prints are all over the glass of my life today.
And I like it.
I still smell like my MIL's dusty garage full of decades of unsorted memories, incomplete projects, and ungiven gifts.
I am pretty sure there is mouse poop in my hair or in my nose.
Hello, hanta virus, pleased to meet you.
I counted spiders for a while, but then I got distracted by the sunshine.
It was a good day, a productive day.
The best find of the day was an entire box FULL of reams of unused plastic newspaper bags.
...because she knows a guy with a list of 100 uses for plastic bags.
I loaded the bed of a truck with 30 or 40 apple and orange boxes.
California oranges, Washington Apples.
But one of the boxes of apples stuck up, above the others, its country of origin smiling back at me like a tall, bald man.
Hello, Enza apples, pleased to meet you.
(Can't think "enza" without thinking "enzyte"...hee...)
Yes, a good day.
We need to go visit The House again.
We're both feeling a little hesitant about the distance it is from everyone else in our lives.
Maybe we could get them all to move out there.
Ok, maybe I could get my helicopter license (and pick up a chopper with my spare change) and ferry everybody out there...?
I'm just not growing MORE realistic with my suggestions, am I?
Maybe they could all just suck it.
Anyway we need to go remind ourselves why we want to live there.
No, make that NEED to live there.
I could drop out of school and focus on being a
It'll happen if I keep wishing for it, right?
I don't like, have to Work for it or anything, do I?
(the new house is only 15 minutes further from school so I don't reeeeallly have to drop out, but it's fun to pretend!)
In other news, we are now at T-minus 4 weeks from our trip to Maine!!!
Got down sat on a bench, I'm excited about that!!!!
Ocean breezes, seafood of all sizes, shapes and flavors, and family........
Also, this is the fortune I got on Sunday after my hike through the gorgeous Uinta mountains with Jasmine (did I even write about that? Glorious, it was!)
It says, "Trust your intuition. The universe is guiding your life."
I'll drink to that!
When the wind blows
I still tend to rock.
...because I am a rocker at heart.
With a soul that can roll.
hot on the heels of losing a best friend
(who was somehow able to make me feel like it's ok)
I am now losing another.
I celebrate her success, I squeal with delight over the job offer.
I feel true joy for her future.
Then in the quiet of my empty house I realize...
she'll be on the other side of the country now.
And we've never been phone-chatters, but I know we'll figure it out.
I just have to sigh at this turn of events.
Because now what?
I have other friends.
Some of them cause tension in my house, so I can't fully dive into the warm embrace of their love, and some of them are not yet a deeper part of my life--
the casual friends, the good acquaintences.
I know I can count on them to pick up the slack, and I know that there are other dear souls out there for me to love.
But for now, I just want to cry.
I don't do well without a solid Best Friend around.
It's not that I'm weak...
I just don't know how not to have one.
Kindergarten was a blur,
but when I met Julie in my first grade class, as we sat by the coat racks playing with those awesome plastic/rubber horses!
Oh, it was like finding a sister.
Oddly enough, I already had
a sister named Julie.
She was prim and proper (still is) and did not share my daydream-believing, queen of homecoming to-be ways!
My surrogate sister did, though.
I've talked about her a lot, and she's not the one leaving, but you know me and TANGENTS!!
The point is, from that day on, as a not-yet-6-and-a-half-year-old, shy as hell girl, I have had at least one super close friend and it's just not getting any easier when our life paths move us apart.
Each of them is still dear to me, and I wouldn't consider them "lost".
Jasmine is about to move to the east coast, to take her dream job and I am so completely thrilled for her.
I'll be ok.
I just have pms today and I'm feeling rather friendless at the moment.
POOR, POOR, ME!!
Guess what I should really be saying right now?
Thank you, dear universe, for sending me such amazing friends and allowing me to love and be loved by them for whatever length of time we have.
I believe that.
I will just miss our hikes and our walks and our bottles of Reisling.
I hate Utah.
(just haven't said that for a while; it doesn't really apply)
I should really try not to post when the hormones are raging.
The next two days are devoted to moving poo at my MIL's house, so pray for me.
Or drink for me...
That woman has more stuff in the smallest room of her house than I have in my ENTIRE house.
I swear to thumb-suckin' baby Jesus!
At least our friends are coming over to watch the next Jazz game tomorrow night instead of just a bunch of guys I don't really know and am not allowed to flirt with.
Another lovely day at the pool--
With my book.
And my patchily applied sunblock.
I am a sun goddess
(in patches, at least)
and I am happy.
Will I let my hair return to its natural color of blondish reddish brownish?
The sun does such marvelous things to it.
The black is grooooo
I crave Me.
I feel like I am holding my breath lately,
waiting for something.
Don't know what.
I am forgetting, with suboncious motivation, to put on the mascara which is my only makeup.
I am letting my hair grow past its attractive length; needs a trim.
I am letting my Hair grow...there...because it is a sexy thing to be bald,
and I feel un-
I wish to revel in my commonness,
to bathe in the ordinary.
Because secretly I know that I feel most beautiful when I pay the least attention.
I currently spend 2.3 minutes a day on my appearance.
I just want less.
I want to melt into the background and give up my hope of being anything other than what I am.
I want to stop expecting the impossible from those around me in this busy world.
I refuse to keep lying here,
draped in the shroud of ecstasy.
I would rather be nestled in the moist, dark earth with you.
I will slip down between the knife-like blades of emerald green
and float like a wish through the dense, dark earth to you.
Not giving up my Life,
but not needing It at the moment either.
Safety is here, in the dark earth,
with what is left of you
in this velvet-lined box.
I am not afraid of you in the dark, quiet earth.
You cannot hurt me, nor would you if you could.
You are my Savior,
my silent champion,
my guardian angel.
If I could be water,
I would be sprinkled over the earth
on that verdant and shady ledge.
I would seep into you
and re-animate your limbs
to convey your sharp mind back into this realm.
........I am getting creepy.
I think I'll go make food for tonight's Jazz playoff game.
Reading a book called Jazz, watching a team called Jazz, going for a hike with best friend Jazz.
Life is...jazzy, you might say.
And I am infatuated with Amy Winehouse.
But most of all, let her possess your hips and your feet and your neck as they sway and shuffle and arch.....
She is Sex.
Perhaps I'll let her be my surrogate for a bit, since I am apathetic toward my own sexiness at the moment.
Happy Saturday, dears.
Unwilling to Wallow
Down with wallowing!
I do, however, have a mean case of PMS.
I wondered why I was loathing the very existence of my pool and my kids and/or their desire to spend this entire day there.
I wondered why I was hungry again when I just finished lunch.
I wondered why I wanted to growl at my kids in response to every word they spoke.
And then I remembered.
My body and the moon both do this stupid thing where they move through phases and this particular phase is the grouch-before-the-storm phase.
It's funny, though, because I'm in a cheerful to average mood.
My thoughts are clear and fresh.
But there has been that inexplicable little edge all day.
I'm just glad I figured it out, because it was about to piss me off.
Last night I had a dream that my husband and I were riding on a bus and the bus was hijacked.
The assailants were of middle eastern origin, and kinda hot.
We had been watching X-Men 3 last night (oh dear GOD I love the X-Mens!) and one of the women was an actress who had played a middle eastern terrorist's mother on the last season of 24 that I watched...maybe the one before last?
That's what planted the seed.
So in the dream, one of the bad guys shot my husband--didn't kill him, just shot him.
It was pretty scary, just wondering what they would do to us, etc.
And then I started considering seducing one of them in order to get out of there alive.
That is SOOO me.
So the pool has officially opened again for the season, and it feels great!
They switched from normal style keys to little keycard thingies so I had to show ID and tell them which house I live in, etc, which is fine by me (except that I had to reload the already-wet kids into the car to go back for my license. grrr).
Hope you all have fabulous, long weekends!
Thursday...and you know what Thursdays are for!!!!
Thursdays are for thucking.
I developed a lisp.
And I'm still having severe typing issues.
I really think I might have a brain tumor.
But that's ok; it's kind of fun.
It is a beautiful, sunshine day outside, and
the clouds in my personal world have lifted, too!
What? You think I am going to fall for the sunshine act?
As if I would be stupid enough to think the rain clouds, the thunder, and the watermellon-sized balls of hail will ever be permanently banished from my little weather system.
But I have an umbrella.
I also had a really hot lesbian sex dream last night.
Sorry for the attention deficit disorder; just remembered!
it was super hot.
I finished watching "Stranger than Fiction" last night.
I am madly in love with that movie.
Everything about it spoke to the part of me that resides in the golgi apparatus of my cells.
(I loved biology, bite me)
The girl, the oddly slim Will Ferrell being not-funny but still making me laugh, and gorgeous Emma Thompson, as a tense-with-writer's-block, chain smoking, brilliant author!
Oh, and don't let's forget how Dustin Hoffman nailed his role as the professor who was just nutty enough to help Ferrell solve his bizzaro problem!
Don't know the actor's name, but if you watch Arrested Development, you know who I mean.
That guy rocks.
Watching it made my skin crawl with unwritten words,
my fingers fairly dance with unspilled thoughts.
Someday I will write a book.
I just listened to the BEST song.
I'm not kidding.
It's the most beautiful song ever written.
The words are haunting, but in a good way.
You know how some songs just speak
And no, I don't think I'll tell you what song it is because then you'll all know that the Black Eyed Peas, "My Humps" moves me like a power ballad from an 80s hair band.
Aw, shoooot, I just spilled the beans...
but, my humps ARE pretty
awesome, wouldn't you say?
(did my distraction technique work? You forgot all about wondering what the song was, didn't you? Ooooops. Now I've gone and called attention to it again! Well. It makes my knees weak like Bo Bice--when he performed on American Idol, NOT when he released his first album...shudder...)
It's the kind of song that makes you wish fan clubs weren't so geeky,
or stalking of musicians wasn't so "already been done."
Becuase then you could just walk up to whoever was responsible for the music/lyrics/whichever part moved you most and hug that person and maybe even press your lips softly to his or her neck where it meets the collar bone and say, "Thank you for reading the pattern of my soul and passing it through the filter of your guitar strings; my soul looks awful sparkly with your voice wrapped around it."
But alas, that Fergie probably has a body guard or something.
(what???? My humps are VERY spiritual to me!!)
(uh...humps are tits, right? Cuz if not, just scratch this entire segment...)
Speaking of American Idol,
I have broken the addiction.
I did not watch a single episode this past season.
I, in fact, only watch the following shows:Desperate Housewives
(hey! fuck YOU. I know it's a soap opera, but I don't care.)House
(Hugh Laurie inspires emotions and physical responses in me that I can't even describe...)The Office
(sometimes I laugh so hard it hurts; other times I squirm or ache or sigh)Scrubs
(laugh. til. I. cry.)
And that is it.
I record My Name is Earl, too, and I like it a lot but just haven't had time to watch it for a while.
So I spend about 3 hours a week watching TV--minus all the commercials, cuz that's what TiVo's for!
Not too shabby.
So what in the bloodiest of hells am I doing with all my time???
Cuz I'm sure not being productive.
I guess that covers it.
Oh, and working out.
I AM PATHETIC.
I need a job.
Or a hob
The pool opens tomorrow.
All I need is a bikini wax (ok, Nair, but wax sounded cooler...)
and a hat with a wide rim so I can read my books without going blind from the glare.
I'm doing nothing this summer but swim and read,
and anyone who has anything to say about it can talk to my manager!
(...uh...anyone want to fill an unpaid intern position as my manager...?)
I'm off to hit the gym, do some quick shopping, and go to school for yet another unbirthday!
You'd think that with twins they could manage to celebrate their summer birthday on the same randomly selected day, wouldn't you?
I know I
would think that, but we'd be wrong.
It's fun to see them in their little world...so cute and all-grown-up, mixed with oh-so-small!
Have a fabulous day.
Just got my ass kicked by a fitness instructor
Hot damn, is she brutal.
This is the second week in a row I've gone to her class and I'm doing better.
I need to cease going 30 minutes early to do extra cardio, though...
When you're already lagging behind during the warm-up, there's a problem.
Although, to be fair, this woman does a hard-core warm-up.
She has a voice much younger than her face
(non-smoker who sunbathes?)
And a body much lankier than its inches
But she played good music today.
Not as good as Mona's
AWESOME suggestion, however!
I'm supposed to be having breakfast/brunch/lunch with Becky the non-blogger today, but I seem to have been stood up.
I have chores.
I'm supposed to buy a tarp to put the dirt on after we dig a hole for the new tree I got to replace the dead one in our parking strip.
But...if I go missing, just go ahead and start looking for my body, wrapped in that tarp, ok?
Things are not going so well around here, you might say.
In brighter news, the HOA is opening our pool on Friday, which is a full week sooner than I expected, so that's pretty sweet.
They switched the lock from key to card, so I need to remember to pop in tonight and pick mine up.
The kids are so excited
...and they're not the only ones!
Me too, me too!
Splish splash, baby.
I am a piece of dry toast
I keep thinking of cool things to write while I'm away from my computer.
But, that doesn't do me any good.
We are reconsidering the Big Move.
More like considering postponing it until we're actually READY.
We are in love with the location, and would buy that house in a heartbeat if we didn't already have 2 houses...
We are both feeling a little overwhelmed by how much effort and luck it's going to take to make this happen in under 2 months.
It's just too bad we weren't already ready to look for a new houses when we found that one...
We are still going to go ahead with preparing both homes for sale,
and we are still going to put them both on the market, but...
I think we're going to allow ourselves to let go of the urgency.
If that is Our House, I believe we will still get it.
We were just getting too freaked out.
We watched Eragon last night.
I am kicking myself for not reading it first; I may still read it.
It was good.
Not amazing, unless you consider the age of its author.
But here's what struck me most about it:
the dragon and rider were like soul mates.
The egg would wait to hatch until a man with a good heart found it, and then it would hatch and be forever linked to this man, its rider--dying if its rider was killed.
I bet I would love the book.
It just reminded me of the time that I had a d-ragon.
And we would fly together, prevailing against evil.
Those were good times.
My d-ragon will always be linked to me, too.
I will get through this tough time because someobody told me I could.
I will try not to wallow, but I'll tell you a secret.
Promise not to tell?
I don't honestly know if I can do this.
I decided to be me again and to live my best life, but this was not part of my plan.
I still have other friends--other "best" friends, even--but I feel deflated.
I feel like this is symbolic and forecasts my future.
I will be unable to write from the heart in this state.
I am not yet convinced that it is worth it.
I am not yet convinced that I can live This Life.
Today's song is brought to you by little miss skater chick whose name is the french word for the 4th month of the year:
Avril Lavigne, "Keep Holding On"
I'm attempting to download it but it's not really working.
You definitely get what you pay for with free music download sites.
My computer is acting a little fucky lately, so that's half the problem.
Also, Blog Collector has updated its free software so that Beta Blogger will now work (supposedly) with their awesome system of downloading your whole blog and turning it into a pdf file.
(was I just redundant? I don't know what the "f" in "pdf" stands for, but if it's "file", then I offer my apologies)
Oh, that reminds me.
I bought a tree today and when I wrote out the check I mispelled "nursery" AND "hundred".
WHAT IN THE FUCK IS THAT ALL ABOUT???
I wrote "nurserey" and "hunderd"--then added another 'e', "hundered" and was still scratching my head.
I started over.
Like I don't know how those are spelled???
Stupid fucking hand.
Write the goddamned correct letters, m'kay?
I got distracted there, didn't I?Blog Collector
I'm having issues with that, too, but that's probably just because of the computer and it's fuckiness.
Have a swell day, kiddos.
And I don't mean the kind hosted by Dennis Miller, Norm MacDonald or Tina Fey.
This one's almost as funny, though.
Weekend: so far so good.
Yesterday we went to play laser tag for the step son's birthday.
He's 11 now, and is the same height as I am.
That's 5' 4" for those of you playing along.
Due to his mother's status as an Amazon woman, he will continue growing at the speed of a bamboo shoot for the next 5-8 years and will not stop until he can reach 7 feet with a moderately sized mohawk.
It was great fun.
The little guys and I had never played before,
and it took us a few minutes (or nearly the entire first 30 minute game) to get our bearings.
There was another group of about 15 boy scouts in there with us, and that actually made it less fun.
After their half-hour was up we had the place to ourselves and that was WAY better.
Somewhere in the first 5 minutes of the first game, in the dark, oh-so-very dark and mazey room...
I changed direction quickly and walked into a wall.
Yes, go ahead and laugh.
Step son even witnessed it, rounding the corner just as I rebounded.
"Did you just run into that wall???"
Yes, yes I did.
We chuckled, I winced, game went on.
"Game" I should say.
I spent most of the time trying to find the recharging stations or helping Max find his dad...because the twinners and Dad were on a team with some boyscouts and step son and I were on a team wtih the others.
So I couldn't just play WITH the lost child I found, and it was so dark and there were so many people we didn't know that I knew he wouldn't be happy if I left him to find his father on his own.
Like I said, the second half was awesome.
And today my face hurts.
It looks much worse in person, but this will give you an idea:
I think it's pretty damn funny.
So go ahead and laugh, cuz I'm laughing, too.
And then I was trying to start a new blog the other day.
An anonymous sort of thing, just so I can privately spew about some of the emotional turmoil that I've been dealing with.
It's not so much to keep it from anyone, but just to be sure that anyone who knows me in real life wouldn't know it was me.
I know I talk about doing this kind of thing from time to time and it never usually takes, but this time it might.
I really feel the need for a journal.
I doubt it'll be interesting, so I think I'll just keep it to myself.
In fact, I probably wouldn't have even mentioned it yet except for the most humorous thing that happened as I tried to set it up.
I took like ten shots of the screen to attempt to capture the moment for you, but I couldn't get one to come out clear (I adjusted everything I could think of, but I guess that's just the risk of camera phones.)
This is the best of them:
In case you can't read that, I was trying to use the URL "anonymoushousewife" and it alerted me that the name was already taken, then offered a suggestion for a different url, "lisa_anderson".
although...I should go register that one because it would be groovy to have it.
How funny is that?
I mean, I know it's just an autogenerator thingy, but it feels like Someone said, "Sorry, we don't have "Anonymous Housewife" available, how about "Lisa Anderson of West Jordan, Utah"?
Seriously funny stuff.
I'm not sure if I even remember the URL I ended up with, so good luck finding it.
Yawning hurts my nose.
I think I might have cracked it or something.
My forehead also go smashed in the retardation experiment, but there's no blood.
It hurts like hell, though.
Speaking of retardation...
My husband works with this guy who has a hard time thinking outside the box, and frankly kind of reminds me of Morgan Freeman in the end of Shawshank Redemption when he's released from prison and can't function on his own.
So, whenever hubby has to go clean up one of this guy's messes (the last one cost the client $2 million) (and yes, this is why my husband's company loves him--he completes his own job flawlessly, persistently, and can fix anything that anyone else fucks up) he comes home just shaking his head and muttering, "He's so fucking stupid. I can't even believe it. He's just so STUPID!"
Last night's project went ok, but this morning he said, "I figured it out. He's not stupid."
I, being an optimist, thought, "Oh, cool, he's found something Good about the guy!"
"He's actually retarded."
I laughed and laughed.
Then he said, "But that's kind of better. Because if you're stupid you could at least TRY; if you're retarded it's not your fault."
I laughed some more.
And then tried to explain the whole IQ scale and how being stupid isn't really all that different from being retarded, it's merely a matter of IQ points.
The whole point of this story is that I decided that being not-quite-retarded is the best insult ever.
Because truly being retarded isn't something to make fun of; it's a handicap and I would never be cruel to those little darlings.
But someone who's an idiot?
Nevermind...I sound like a giant, hemoroidal asshole.
I think I'm going to do something fun today while Mr. Sleeps.
If T. is still going to the Living Traditions Festival with her daughter who's the same age as my boys I will join them.
If not, or if her time table doesn't suit me, I will take the boys to a mountain with water.
Yes, I know that sounds vague, but I'm just not sure where.
I have a couple of ideas, but I will probably call J. and get her advice and/or bring her with us.
In other news, I had a dream last night wherein I spoke some words that I cannot speak in real life.
Maybe I should.
But I can't.
And it felt like floating on the wind.
It felt true and light and refreshing.
Weekend Update update--
Apparently there is a Jazz game today.
The first in this particular series.
And Mr. SleepyHead invited his 2 divorced friends to come watch it with their combined 4 children and another single roommate.
It's not exactly what I was craving for the day, but it'll be fun and I like the two divorced guys so it should be good.
I love it when hubby takes initiative to be social, so I can't complain!
I shall now go shower and run to the store for munchies.
...nah, maybe I'll just drive.
I had big plans today
but you know what they say about Mice and Men and over-sized farmhands.
Blood shed is inevitable.
I am frustrated that my carefully planned day has now amounted to nothing.
I am frustrated that part of that careful plan was to have lunch with 3 of my dearest friends, with whom I haven't spent much time lately.
It will be a great weekend, though.
I know it will.
I just hate this.
It doesn't help that yesterday I decided to trade my best friend for my marriage.
I'm like god damned Joan of Arc or something; such a martyr.
Don't pity me.
I don't deserve it.
I have come far in rediscovering myself over the past few months,
and I like where I'm heading.
But my heart is breaking today.
A friend who loves you enough to let you go is a rare bird indeed.
I'm going to lunch with the girls.
Update: Lunch was just the medicine I needed.
I'm going to do a session with Sh.
I feel more peaceful just knowing that's on the horizon.
Here's the CD I burned:
Distant Sun-Crowded House
Time Won't Let Me Go-The Bravery
Read My Mind-The Killers
When You Come-Crowded House
Tired and Bored-Garageland
Who Loves Who the Most-The Exponents
The Otherside-Breaks Co-ops
Some great musicianship and lyricism goin' on there.
Yesterday I was driving along (merrily) through the sunshine,
just cresting the half-way mark between the awesome Salt Lake valley and the awful
when a motorcycle zoomed past me in the HOV (carpool) lane.
Moments later, a white van merged unlawfully into that lane and nearly obliterated the guy.
I reacted from a deeper place than I would have if the near-victim had been a car, or even a bicycle.
Memories are sharp sometimes.
Tears leapt to my eyes and I choked a few sobs before realizing he was fine, oblivious even, and understood my own reaction enough to calm down.
When I finished at my appointment I turned right, instead of retracing my steps by turning left.
I mindlessly headed toward the bench.
I turned right at the T, joining University Avenue at the point where it thrusts its way between the walls of Provo Canyon, ostensibly to meet up with a friend who works in that direction.
But just a few seconds of moving down that road and I found myself slipping into the left turn lane,
and climbing the hill up to Canyon Road.
I didn't know if I would be able to find the cemetary, but there were signs.
I sat in the cool grass where the headstone should be and used my thumb to wipe the small amount of dust from the temporary nameplate swallowed up by the grass.
I was so offended by the presence of an almond joy wrapper that I took it with me.
I am not usually so concerned with litter (sadly).
It was nice to sit there and chat a while.
With myself and the trees.
I will go back more often, and lobby with the family members to get that goddamned headstone up.
They can't agree on what to engrave, but fuck that.
There needs to be one.
It was a happy day, truly.
Sorry for the weird-ass posts lately, this included.
kisses to you all!
Feeling like a lucky, lucky star!
...but not wanting to jinx myself.
Nothing for sure yet, but we are rolling forward with the House of Dreams,
and so far so good.
In other news--
I made lobster stew tonight to celebrate with my best friend, J.
We are both lobster junkies, having grown up in Rockland--
the Lobster Capital of the World (at some point, at least).
It was yummmy.
Not as good as my mom's.
But not too shabby for a first try.
I'll have to get my sister's take on it.
She's so fresh and blue-eyed.
So opposite of me in
It's a pretty groovy display of genetics, though, really.
Ok, so anyway.
Lots of fancy footwork coming right up--
1. selling two houses before someone else buys the one we want
2. finding new home for our renter, a.k.a. Hubby's Kooky Maternal Unit
3. not hyperventilating every time I think about the house.
That last one's going to be the hardest of them all!!
Ok, well, so much for focusing on something other than my House of Dreams.
Did I mention the sunset?
I know I've said it before, but I take vast amounts of pleasure from the beauty of nature.
It sinks into me and restores my soul, the way sleep restores my body.
As much as I love this current house o' mine,
it has no views.
And when there is so much beauty all around (...when there's love at home!)
(sorry...got sucked into an LDS hymn for a second there)
it's hard to not be able to see any of it.
This feels like heaven.
I'm sure I'll find plenty of things to gripe about, should I be lucky enough to move out there.
Not the least of which is going to be:
I can't find my own damn house!
The streets are rather windy (that's the adverb form of the "twist" meaning, not the meteorological term...why don't I just say "twisty"???).
Ok, starting over.
The streets are rather twisty-turny and finding one's way into and out of the neighborhood takes a 6-week class, culminating in a very tricky final exam.
Did I mention there's a golf course in the neighborhood?
And a beautiful Observatory?
(all the telescopers go kick it with the stars, yo.)
(don't ask me where that came from...I listened to some Eminem this morning, so I'll blame Marshall.)
Ok...I'm sure this is almost as nauseating as reading the blog of someone who is madly in love.
I will try to stop gushing.
I can't even totally decide how I feel about moving, on all the different levels that it can affect a person, because I'm so in love with this new neighborhood.
I can't imagine ever living anywhere else.
I just hope the stars align properly....
Anyone need a house in a Salt Lake suburb?
If you're listening?
I'll do anything...
let all the pieces fall into place so that I can see this every night for the next 20 years (or so):
Our own beach!
And they said it is great for ice skating in the winter...
and they stock it with 4 kinds of fish every summer...
and they do HUGE fireworks in the summer...
and the schools are good, the traffic (to the city) is mild, and the mormons are not obnoxiously prevalent (which is all you can hope for in Utard)!!!!
The master bedroom (and all the bedrooms, actually) has huge windows on this side of the house.
They put in a groovy outdoor shower so you can go from lake to hot tub without cootie-fying the hot tub.
I'm having chest palpitations.
Mother's Day was sweet perfection
The whole weekend was pretty blissful, in fact.
That storm cloud hovered for a bit, but never did burst open.
On Saturday we drove out west, on a whim.
We had heard of a place near Tooele (pronounced 2-ill-uh) with cheap homes.
See, we're about to do a big shift and sell a bunch of assets/stock/etc and our plan is to buy a house with cash.
We found the spot, and it is only about ten minutes further from the city than our current suburb, but it's tucked behind the mountains and the valley is wide and most of it will remain undeveloped because it is the land that seeps out from the the Great Salt Lake--
salt flats, marshes.
as we skirted the area looking for a way in, we saw it.
My heart still hasn't recovered.
It feels like home in more ways than I've ever imagined I would feel,
living in Utah.
It is a lake.
A spring fed, sort of artificial I assume, lake.
And all of the homes in that particular neighborhood back up to it.
You step out your backdoor and
There are only a few homes for sale,
but we have an appointment to see the best one tomorrow night.
The house itself is just what we want/need as far as size and amenities,
but that's nothing compared to the outside--
mature trees!!! (swoon!)
a very nice/big redwood swingset
a hot tub
Oh, oh, oh!
idea how this makes my heart swell.
People have SAIL BOATS.
Everything from canoes and kayaks to peddle-boats to small sail boats
docked in backyards.
Modest homes, too, not a flashy/splashy resort community feel.
Homes from the 1960s and 70s, mostly from the 1990s and a few along one edge that are just being built now.
It looks so incredible.
There are certainly a few homes that are dazzling.
But most of them are just regular homes.
With what I can only assume are regular people.
And it feels so very un-Utah.
It's probably 90% Mormon, or something, but I sort of don't care!
It's closer to Wendover
I can't even breathe.
I feel like I'm about to burst.
Ithink I already said that.
It's just so...
It feels right to both of us.
I've never seen hubby so excited about anything.
Suddenly I have no desire to finish planning the deck and fencing and trees for our current house...
so hopefully we'll make a decision quickly.
And then on Mother's Day,
I was treated to a delicious breakfast in bed,
and then taken on a hike that I have been hankering to take my family on for a long
The Timpanogos Caves are a one hour hike up the side of the mountain,
and I was deeply impressed by the kids' perseverence.
We had such a great time.
The caves themselves were as cool--literally and figuratively--as I remembered.
The boys loved it, I loved it.
We all had such a grea time--I already said that, but it's true.
Then hubby and I laid in bed for the rest of the afternoon, reading, watching movies and
Happy Mother's Day, indeed.
Ok, that is all.
I am making good progress with the BHW Chronicles.
Thank you so much to those of you so far who have offered to help!!
You are my heroes.
It will be really helpful to get that outside perspective...
Like, am I the only one who thinks this stuff is cool??
Have I overestimated how much material I should include??
I have good news and bad news
The good news is I found 50 more pages of stuff I wanted to add to my Bored Housewife Chronicles...
The bad news is--
I FOUND 50 MORE PAGES OF STUFF I WANTED TO ADD TO MY BORED HOUSEWIFE CHRONICLES.
So much for being almost finished with the editing portion.
So much for being almost ready for outside advice.
Hopefully I can still finish it in the next few days.
I'm glad I found it, and I'm really pleased with how it's turning out.
I have another set of good news/bad news that is remarkably similar in format to the first set...
Bad news: didn't get rehired for the newspaper
Good news: didn't get rehired for the newspaper
I feel dazed and--though not in a Led Zep-esque manner--a little bit confused.
I have more to say, but don't feel like this is a private enough place.
My feelings are hurt, but I'll be quick to look on the bright side.
My husband arrived home yesterday and it was a magical and beautiful feeling.
He hasn't been travelling as much during the past few months, but usually when he does he is free in the evenings--bored, even--and we have great chunks of conversation during that time.
This time he was gone from sunday until friday and we spoke for less than an hour TOTAL.
It felt so good to just lay in bed together and be close.
I could feel the separateness dissipating as his skin warmed mine,
but there was such a deficit of touch to fill!
This morning things seem less seamless,
I feel like he's gone again, even though he's here.
I feel a fight pressing down from the sky, making the air heavy around us.
I don't even know why.
I miss the trees.
Giants of bark with thick reaches of rustling green.
I need them.
We live in one of these stupid new neighborhoods where none of the trees are more than a few years old.
I love my neighborhood...
but I want some trees that are older than me, older than my parents.
I want trees that have seen so many winters that they drop their leaves with grace and pleasant resignation then settle in for the ice and winds.
I want trees that have scars and knots and offer shade the size of a house.
Enjoy your weekend.
Good name for gay porn, no?
Nothing to say/no time to say it
I feel like a million tiny responsibilities chip away at my day until there's no time left for living.
I remember that those million responsibilities are
My finger still hurts.
It's been two weeks since the mentally impaired nurse botched my blood draw and tweaked a nerve on the back of my hand, leading into the finger that won't stop hurting.
I think it may even have affected my Wii Bowling game...
I should sue.
It's America, after all, and I have made it 31.8 years without suing anyone.
I should sue Sue.
But only if it's a boy.
If I were him, I would sue!
I am attempting to replace dessert with masturbation.
I'll let ya know how that turns out.
I guess I should go get ready for the gym.
I bet it's ready for ME!!
No, I'm not on drugs, you jackass.
But I am rather enjoying my newly reclaimed sense of authenticity.
And I registered for Fall classes yesterday;
including the first step toward English teaching.
I am 90-something percent sure that I will change to a teaching major before the summer's end.
It just seems like the wise decision, and I really think I would love it, but I just need to sit with it for a while and make sure it feels RIGHT.
I am certainly passionate about the English language, and about great literature and creativity.
Which doesn't mean I'll be great at standing in front of a class and holding their attention for more than 3 minutes.
Or challenging them.
I am in the final stages of editing that infamous compilation of Bored Housewife fantasies/stories/poetry and I was wondering if anyone would be interested in reading through it to offer suggestions, etc?
Only if you have time and/or interest.
Just email me if you want to help out.
Whoever helps will get a free copy...
Mondays are for Telling Tales
My tales, to be exact.
I just feel like shouting my entire history for all the world to hear.
You thought you knew it all, didn't you?
Here is where I want to publish my Emancipation Proclamation--
my freedom from my self-induced imprisonment.
I am on a journey, and at last I feel like I am the captain of this soul of mine, and not simply a passenger.
I gave up the driver's seat, it was not taken from me,
but I have only just realized this--
like Dorothy when the Wizard tells her she had had the power to go home all along.
I have so many words and so many dreams
and so many shoes.
I feel like mixing them all up and tossing them in the air
to see where they all land.
--big black boots with a fluttering, iridescent dream of flying sticking out the top
--delicate black heels with tufts of black letters, the words of a poem shooting out of its sole
--my favorite gym shoes with a giant scroll rolled up and tied together with their laces--a scroll wherein my dream of becoming a Real True Writer is detailed in fine caligraphy
I think it would make a beautiful mess.
I don't even like shoes all that much.
I was just trying to be silly...
and perhaps the Jerky Boys inspired me.
But whatever the case, I feel the need to confess and repent and start over.
With this blog thing that I do.
I want you all to know where I've been and what I've been doing so that you will understand.
So that you can judge me for yourselves.
I crave judgement.
I crave innocence.
And innocence only comes from complete disclosure.
Stress can melt away from the grip it has on my heart if I tell everyone
It's the only way to live, I think.
I got so caught up in my own secrets that I didn't have anything to share here.
I was so afraid of sharing THIS, the real me, with my husband that I nearly lost him.
And I may yet lose him.
But as long as I am being true to myself then I have nothing to fear.
I allowed his paranoia and suspicion to contort me and make me ugly,
and then I blamed him for it.
I allowed his indifference for things I cherished to cut me deeply.
I allowed my own need to share every interest with the man I love to turn me away from the one who loves me most.
I made that stupid, rookie mistake of focusing on the negatives instead of the positives.
Which kind of baffles me since I so naturally focus on the positives that I can't even write a bad review of a bad play.
I dropped the ball that is My Life.
I continually sought for him to change, when all I needed to do was stop worrying about our mismatched interests and hold on to my own passionate attitudes toward the things in life that thrill me and move me and feed my soul and to refuse to allow him to indulge in his own insecurities.
Everything could have been different if I had been strong from the start.
I hesitate to be more explicit because I know that there are "real" people who read this (at least on occasion) who have no business knowing the details of my life.
I am ready to own myself again.
I am ready to Be.
I am ready to face whatever needs facing, and to live my best life.
I am buoyed by superhuman strength--
something coming from so deep within me that it bears the smell of the ocean on the other side of the world.
And why am I sharing all this with you dear fellas?
Because I'm on a Truth Roll, that's why!
...it is kind of like a Tuna Roll, but requires much less wasabi.
I guess I can't do full disclosure here, but saying all of this sure felt good.
And now you guys can bear witness, like a bunch of religious zealots, that I am going to live MY life from now on.
And maybe it means that I will connect again with that muse of mine, buried somewhere in the darkest depths of me,
or maybe it means that I will stop writing altogether and go do something USEFUL with my life.
Today is a beautiful day and I am going to go finish enjoying it.
Breakfast at Epiphany's--
Yes, I had an epiphany today.
Not for breakfast, technically, but I couldn't pass up that dandy little phrase.
I am not sure it would even make sense to any of you, so I don't think I'll post it,
but let me assure you it was a long time coming.
I hate this whole business of trying to figure myself out.
I think it makes me all the crazier, trying to figure out why I'm crazy.
Ignorance IS bliss.
Anyway, I am filled with calm, knowing that I just have to be myself.
I have to stop trying so hard to please other people...
Just be me, and be true to myself, and let the chips fall where they may.
...hopefully near a bowl of dip, but if not, I'm ok with that, too.
(if they're tortilla chips, make it guacamole, but if they're potato chips, I prefer my aunt's recipe of crab dip...)
Hubby is on his way home from dropping off our babysitter and then...
we're either going to have a long talk or sex.
Maybe both, but frankly, I ran out of words sometime last week.
And my body has not been cooperating with that whole sex thing for more than a few days of the past 3 weeks so I'm sure you can imagine which way I'm
Fortunately, I know my husband well enough to know that he is leaning the same way.
I have probably just gone and
overshared, but oh well.
And that's all I'm going to be from now on...
Feels good to wear That dress again.
...sounds like a great name for a band...or at least a song.
Wish me luck!
An interview!!! Of ME!!
I know you're as excited as I am, I can feel it!
(from outer space, like a disco queen)
and she was kind enough to interview me, upon my request.
It's a meme sort of thing, so I may ask for volunteers to be interviewed next...
yes, I will.
please leave me a comment stating your desire to be interviewed and I will email you some questions.
1. Who did you have your first, little girl super duper secret crush on, and what was he (or she) like?
FUNNY. Yes, it was definitely a boy. And if we’re talking FIRST EVER, it was in second grade. His name was Anthony, and he was in first grade (but we shared a teacher; a split class). I don’t have any idea what he was like—I was the shyest little flower in the school. He was cute—and remained so throughout high school; I’m assuming he still is, but you never know! He was nice enough, not a braggy/bully type of kid. 2. Which classic, timeless, critically acclaimed book or movie do you find mind-numbingly boring?
Hmm….that’s a tough one. I enjoy most of the books that others find boring, but I bet I could come up with one if I looked at a list—with my memory being what it is these days (non-existent), I really can’t think of one. A movie, though, that’s a little easier. “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.” Ok, so it’s not exactly “critically acclaimed,” but it was acclaimed by teenagers…Ok, just checked a list of books—most of them evoked fond memories, but then I remembered: Jack Kerouc’s “On the Road” did NOT have the effect on me that I thought it would. It was very “blah”.3. Have you ever said anything so totally stupid that you wished you could just cram it back into your mouth? If so, what was it? If not, hell, make something up.
Oh, gods yes! I’m a long-time sufferer of Foot In Mouth Disease. Gah. I think the worst/most memorable was at my guy friend’s wedding when he introduced me to his new mother-in-law. The woman was obviously quite old, or at least had NOT aged well, and I said—slightly drunk from the wine SHE paid for!!—“You two could be sisters!” And worse? I said it with a touch of sarcasm!!!!!! Oh, fuck. That was bad. I was juuust buzzed enough to not realize how bad it was until later, but then again, that whole wedding was the embarrassment of my life. God. 4. What is the most naughty you've been in a public place? Details, please!
Oh, come on! This is ME!!!! I’ve already spilled all my darkest secrets (which is why I am so impressed by the awesomeness of your questions!). Hmm…I think sex in an elevator on Mormon-owned BYU campus would be the naughtiest, but it wasn’t terribly public—it was Valentine’s Day, which happened to be a Friday or Saturday and it was about 8 or 9pm. In other words: the place was deserted.
I asked Andrea this one too, but I like it so you're getting it too. ;o)
5. Pretend you have the ability to talk to people without having to actually speak - thought projection. No one would know the messages were coming from you, so speak (or project) freely. What sorts of things would you be tempted to say?
I would try to use my God-like skills to make the world a better place, honestly. I mean, ok, maybe the random hot guy would get “You want to fuck that girl, don’t you? Yes, that one—the one with the black curls and the pierced nose. She is AMAZING in bed, so disregard your personal level of attraction. Start out with lots of kissing.” But…on the whole, it would be more along the lines of, “Ignore what your mother just said about the size of your ass; she’s just jealous of your youth.” I would tell people what they needed to hear—but not always what they wanted to hear. Difficult truths, etc.
So here are the rules of this little game:
DIRECTIONS FOR THE INTERVIEW MEME
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions (or share here in the Comments section).
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
Happy Thursday, you dirty birds!
It's not that I want to wallow...
but I can't really think of anything else right now.
I was broken, like a wild horse.
the funny part is that I was never actually a wild horse.
Just a show pony.
The sugar from those two lard-topped cupcakes I just inhaled is hitting my blood stream now,
so you will probably be spared any more of my dramatics.
It's hard to be depressed when your nerves are snapping like fireworks.
I should have gone with the wine.
Wallowing would have been much easier with a depressant in my system!!
How do you people do it?
You NORMAL people, you even-keeled people?
How does it feel to waver somewhere around the middle all the time, feeling a little sad when something's wrong, and a little happy when something's right?
I just can't comprehend such a world.
Yes I can.
I'm living in it now.
And it feels like death.
Only more work.
Just ignore me.
I'll be over it soon.
Either that or I'll stop writing, because really--
writing is not possible without freedom of speech.