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As Big as Texas

Here’s a picture of me in Texas!

OK, it’s not really me and I’m in Amarillo not Dallas, but I found this cute retro coloring book at the “Historic Route 66 Antique Mall” in Amarillo and thought it was awesome.

It’s quite a page turner for a coloring book. At one point Barbie actually gets a little dusty! Don’t worry, her blonde curls stay intact and I think the Barbie motorhome is parked nearby fully equipped with a shower after a long day workin’ the range with Cowboy Ken.

Dallas sure has changed since Barbie was there. If this coloring book were current you would see a bunch of skyscrapers on the horizon and Barbie would be riding in a lowrider truck instead of a horse.

Anyhoo, in case you don’t know where Amarillo is, just go south about 1000 miles, take a left at the prickly pear patch and then the first right after you pass a herd of armadillos.

Jason’s off playing cowboy out on the range with all his new Cowboy Artists of America brothers, while me and the other CA wives rock downtown Amarillo. You should have seen us get all rowdy in the antique stores yesterday. (I’m the youngest wife here by about ten years.)

This morning I went for a run in a neighborhood near the hotel and came across this true Texan yard.

My sister lived in Texas for a couple of years and told me, “I’ve never met a people who are so proud of where they’re from.”

It’s true, “Everything’s bigger in Texas,” even state pride.

When you landscape with statehood paraphernalia, that’s serious state pride.

I mean, I’m proud to be from Utah and all, but it’s not like I’m going to put up statues of Brigham Young and his 55 wives around my yard.

Puppy Love

My friend got a new puppy.

He’s a chow chow.

Even his breed name is cute.

In the words of Agnes from Despicable Me, “It’s so fluffy, I’m gonna die.”

My kids are smitten, and, I must admit, so am I.

Even though I am anti-any-more-pets-at-our-house, he is cute enough to tempt even me.

But then I remember he’s not going to stay little, cute and fluffy forever.

Over time, in what seems like just a blink, he’s going to get bigger, hairier and stinkier and start to beg for his own cell phone and use of the car, then he’ll say sarcastic things under his breath when you say “No!” for the millionth time!

Okay, I’m not puppy hungry anymore.

Mom’s the Word

Did you have a happy Mother’s Day?

I did.

My family pampered and spoiled me:

- Slept in.
- Breakfast of homemade waffles with strawberries and cream on top.
- Jason did all the dishes.
- Opened gifts: new boots, new dress, bag of chocolate covered cinnamon bears (My family knows me so well!)
- Homemade card from the kids and a sweet love letter from Jason.
- Beautiful fresh flower corsage to wear to church (Tradition: each of the kids chooses a flower and then the florist arranges them into a corsage, sometimes a very funky combo, but I love it!)
- Favorite foods dinner: Papa Murphy’s Chicago style pizza, green salad, tall glass of Fresca with crushed ice.
- Took a leisurely walk up the road in the beautiful evening light.
- Watched a movie and ate homemade Oreo shakes.

The Perfect Mother’s Day, right?

Right.

Except for . . . wait for it . . . the GUILT!

You know it just wouldn’t be Mother’s Day if there wasn’t a healthy dose of guilt. But this time it wasn’t even the usual guilt about what kind of mother I am, but about what kind of daughter I am.

Confession: I purposely finagled my way out of having to spend Mother’s Day with any of my mothers or grandmothers so I could have the day all to myself to be pampered and preened by my husband and children. I made sure all the other heirachical mothers on both sides of the family were taken care of by other family members so I didn’t have to cook, or clean, or please anyone on Mother’s Day.

But as I crawled out of bed mid morning, ate waffles, watched Jason do dishes, opened gifts, read my cards, smelled my corsage, ate pizza, drank Fresca, went on a walk, watched a movie, and ate Oreo shakes, a guilty twinge festered.

Mothers are supposed to be selfless and sacrificing – the ultimate persona of martyrdom. After telling our kids a million times to bring a jacket in case it gets cold, and of course they don’t, we give them the jacket off our own backs when they get cold, just like we said they would. And how many NBA players talk about growing up in the ghetto while their moms worked three jobs to support eight kids so they could eventually have a better life as overpaid professional prima donnas?

It’s our job to give up our own comfort, pleasure, and ambition for the well being of others.

But yesterday, shhhh don’t tell, I didn’t.

I basked in a big therapeutic pool of selfish indulgence.

To traditionally and properly celebrate Mother’s Day I should have been slaving over a hot stove preparing a home cooked meal for visiting family, and frantically straightening up the house, and yelling at the kids to hurry and make cards for grandmas, and sorting through old newspapers to find the comics page to wrap gifts, and sneaking around the outskirts of neighbors’ yards to clip flowers for a bouquet.

I just couldn’t do it this time.

I wanted my own day.

But before you judge me too harshly, I did take my mom out to lunch on Friday and gave her a framed embroidered gift I made, which took many hours, and a cheeky card. And I invited my mother-in-law to stop by last night on their way home from the family dinner we ditched so I could give her a framed embroidered gift I made, which took many hours, and a non-cheeky card.

So, I did try and fulfill my daughterly duties on some level.

And just knowing that a child’s joy is always tainted by obligatory guilt is usually gift enough for any mother.

City Rivals

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunny heat combined with a cool spring breeze is an awesome weather combo.

I relished in those very conditions as I sat out by the fountain at The Gateway Mall in downtown Salt Lake one day this week and watched as children splashed around while I ate my tasty take-out from Thaifoon.

What a beautiful day!

In fact, it was so nice I almost forgot I was in town to get my taxes done.

The ladies from the ABC TV show “Good Things Utah” were walking around the area with a camera guy in tow interviewing people about something or other.

I thought about nonchalantly moving closer to the action in case I might be randomly chosen. Then when I dazzled them with my on-camera presence and quick wit they would offer me a position to jam with them on the show.

Nah.

The commute would bite.

I stayed put and enjoyed the scene from afar.

I did try to figure out what they were interviewing people about.

Maybe it was about whether or not they thought The Gateway was going to survive with the arrival of the flashy new kid down the block – City Creek Center.

There are a lot of vacant stores now, I noticed. It makes me sad.

City Creek is awesome, but I still like the good ol’ Gateway too.

I know what it feels like to be ditched for the new kid. When I was in 6th grade, my friend Dana and I were BFFs. Even though we knew we were too old for dolls, we both asked for “Kimberly” dolls for Christmas that year and spent hours styling their long blonde hair.

Then Heidi moved in.

She was new. She was too cool for dolls, even just to do their hair. Apparently she was too cool for me because she and Dana became thick as thieves within days of her arrival and everyone knows three’s a crowd, especially with girls.

I spent recess alone after that.

I looked at the empty stores at The Gateway and thought of those lonely recesses.

Isn’t there room for the old and the new?

Why couldn’t Dana be friends with both Heidi and me?

Why can’t SLC support both City Creek and Gateway?

Heidi ended up moving again after only a few months. Apparently her dad’s new job didn’t work out how they thought, so they were off again.

Dana sheepishly came crawling back.

By then I’d managed to form a new group of friends. There were four of us, which is a great dynamic because it’s an even number so no one gets left out, but there are combo options.

Dana tried to be a 5th wheel, but it didn’t take.

I felt bad, but I couldn’t just ditch and leave my new group as a doomed threesome.

Dana spent some lonely recesses eating humble pie, but eventually she made some new friends too.

It all works out in the end.

City Creek is new and fancy, but I think The Gateway still has a lot to offer. Winter Olympic 2002 memories alone have got to be worth something right?

I’ll remain loyal.

After all, City Creek doesn’t have “honey walnut shrimp.”

Not yet, anyway.

The Ma Ma Sisterhood

Hilary Rosen said of Ann Romney, “She has never actually worked a day in her life.”

Cue the biggest cat fight of the 21st century.

I’ve read a lot of the backlash verbiage. I understand Hilary Rosen didn’t mean that staying home and raising children isn’t work, but it’s still no excuse. Her comment was insulting and petty.

She was essentially saying that not every woman has the luxury of a sugar daddy to allow her to stay home and not have a worry in her pretty little head about finances or the economy.

Why do we do this to ourselves?

Isn’t it bad enough that women have had to battle against men for generations to receive any validation for our role in society? Is this what the feminist movement bought us – a movement from fighting against men to fighting amongst ourselves?

Because Ann Romney married well, we should hate on her?

Unfortunately, some of us never really leave the halls of high school. “She gets everything – a hot, rich husband, blonde hair, and a debilitating disease for sympathy too! It’s not fair!”

Now, if Ann Romney was snobbish about her fortune and position, that would be one thing, but she has never presented herself as anything but gracious.

Comments like Hilary Rosen reveal that, in the name of feminism, women are often far more concerned about proving ourselves to each other than we are proving ourselves to men.

Sure, Ann Romney has financial security, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have any economic worries. Hers are just different. Wealth and prominence in society carry with it great responsibility. I can only imagine the concern she had of teaching five boys who grew up in in the lap of luxury and in the public eye to still be hard working, gracious and compassionate.

All five of the Romney sons are now married with children and working professionals, mostly independent of their father’s empire. Sure, you could argue that their success came from the advantages of finances and prestigious contacts for their education and professional ventures to get them where they are, but such advantages only get you so far. Aren’t tabloids and reality shows chock full of entitled celebutantes whose petty, selfish use of time and inherited money prove them to be a waste of skin? At least the Romneys have chosen to become contributing members of society with their position.

For the most part, everyone is a product of their own choices, no matter what advantages or disadvantages they’ve had in life.

Hilary Rosen made her choices and Ann Romney made hers. And while their choices have led them to extreme opposites in lifestyle and political views, they have something very important in common – they’re both mothers. They both want to contribute positively to society with their efforts in raising a posterity.

Isn’t that what all mothers want?

Can’t we rally around that?

Even though Ann Romney has never set foot in a workplace and Hilary Rosen put her foot in her mouth, can’t we call a truce this Mother’s Day, join hands in solidarity and agree that no matter what situation you’re in as a mother, raising children is freaking hard?

Post-erior

The poor mailman who has to stick his hand in there every day.

Then again, maybe he likes going to this house to deliver mail because it gives him a good laugh while doing a tedious job.

I know I thought it was funny when I biked past it the other day.

Funny, and kinda sick.

I suppose the suggestion of this mailbox design is pretty accurate.

I know most of what comes out of my mailbox are bills, advertisements and solicitations – i.e. crap.

In Review

I got my first official book review!

It was done by reviewer Lauren Zachary of Deseret News.

Below her review is a place to add your own comments.

You can also give me a star rating and a review on Amazon.com, DeseretBook.com and SeagullBook.com.

If you’ve read my book and liked it, feel free to rave.

If you hated it, feel free to keep your pie hole shut!

Just kidding.

This is America where unfortunately everyone has the right to freedom of speech, so you can say whatever you want, I guess.

Just remember, I have a GPS and a paintball gun in my car.

Try and say that three times fast.

It’s definitely a mouthful, but when a tradition has lasted 150 years it deserves a lip trippin’ title, doesn’t it?

Our little community of Mendon celebrated our annual May Day festivities over the weekend.

It was awesome!

It kicked off on Friday night with the community dance and a floor show presentation of the May Queen and Court. After weeks of rehearsals and worry, my cute Court kids made me proud with their floor show dance performance.

After a particularly rough practice a couple weeks ago, I was lamenting to my daughter, who is in the court, about whether we’d ever pull it together in time. Madi gave me reassurance, “Don’t worry, Mom. Their egos are too big to do it right in the rehearsals, and too big to do it wrong in the performance.”

From the mouths of babes.

She was right on.

It’s amazing the focus and ability that kicks in when parents, grandparents, peers, and a Herald Journal reporter are looking on in the audience. Just when I thought everything I’d told them over the past month had fallen on deaf ears, the spotlights turned on, the music turned up, and a bunch of sullen teenagers transformed into Broadway babies.

After that was the traditional “Parent Dance” where the boys in the court dance with their moms, and the girls dance with their dads.

I got to choose the song.

Initially, I thought there was a separate dance for mother/son and father/daughter. I poured over possibilities. I decided on Daughters by John Mayer for the father/daughter dance and Beauty and the Beast by Peabo Bryson for the mother/son dance.

I thought it was funny and cute.

My son thought it was mean. He was smug when he found out it was combined so I wouldn’t get to use it.

I suppose I still could have used it, categorizing both the teenage boys and the dads on the dancefloor as “beasts,” but I decided to go a different direction.

One thing was certain, I was NOT going to use Butterfly Kisses.

Blehhh.

I don’t care if the Mendon Mayor himself demanded it, I would have taken the matter to the supreme court if necessary.

The sap in that song is so heavy it could put a cavity in a veneer.

In the end, I went with The Best Day by Taylor Swift. It’s sweet and sentimental, but not syrupy and comes from the perspective of a teenager. Madi loves that song. She says it reminds her of the times she and her dad just talk when they’re driving in the truck somewhere.

So cute.

It was fun to see all these teenagers dressed in formals and suits swaying in the arms of the enemy.

After that, we cranked up the jam and boogied the night away.

I got to help DJ this killer gig.

Oh, yea. Middle aged Mom spinnin’ the tunes.

It was a community dance with people of all ages so they wanted songs to accommodate a wide audience. I totally killed it with my mix. I played songs from Glenn Miller and Michael Bublé to Black Eyed Peas and Muse. We did the Boot Scootin’ Boogie, the Hokey Pokey and the Chicken Dance.

It was a blast! I fell into bed totally exhausted, but with a smile on my face. Thunder and lightening cracked and boomed all night. In my tired delirium I prayed silently through the night for a bright sunny May Day.

Mother Nature delivered.

The grass was wet, but the sun was shining in all its springtime glory as the May Day Queen and Court reigned and little girls in matching dresses danced in the morning light around the Maypole weaving brightly colored ribbons.

My 90-year-old grandma kept clapping and saying over and over, “They’ll remember this day the rest of their lives.”

I hope they do.

I know I will.

May Day is one of my favorite days of the year. Thinking that the same celebration has taken place on that very spot for 150 consecutive years almost made me teary that morning. What a heritage! Traditions are what define a community and hold it together. There are those in our town who are May Day Scrooges for some reason and think we ought to relinquish it. “Put them in the stocks!” I say. Sure, singing songs about “Straying and Maying amid the blooming flowers” is corny, but who cares! It’s not like some of the lyrics nowadays are anything to brag about, like the words to Moves like Jagger?

I’d rather my kids were “Straying and Maying.”

After the Maypoles had been braided, we all crammed into the old church on the square for the traditional May Day program. The Mayor and the May Queen say a few words as well as other community luminaries. A family band from Mendon did a “through the years” musical tribute in honor of 150 years of May Day that was a lot of fun. They jammed on the banjo, fiddle, accordion and drums as a couple did the polka.

The Maypole girls sang a couple songs and the May Queen’s Court sang a song.

I was in charge of this part for the Court too.

I chose I See the Light from the Disney movie Tangled for them to sing. I thought it was appropriate because that song is sung by a princess and her escort during an annual community celebration. Again, as a youth community group with a wide span of musical ability, and inability, we had to keep it simple and this song has a beautiful, basic melody.

I did get brave and teach them a little harmony part for the ending, which they completely abandoned in their nervousness at the performance, but it turned out well anyway.

One of my favorite parts of the program was a fashion show of May Day dresses through the years going back to the 1970s. Some community pack rat has saved a set of May pole dancer dresses from all those years and her hoarding finally paid off. The Marsha Brady years were definitely apparent, and it looked like the 80s fashion influence stayed well into the 21st century in the isolated community of Mendon.

The whole thing was lovely and represented the best our community has to offer.

Afterward, we went home to change out of our nice clothes and came back to the park to let the kids play, grab a meal at the burger stand, and watch the softball tournament.

What a day!

In the words of Isaac Sorensen:

With cheerful glee and chorus song
The hours were filled with pleasure,
Some found a pebble, some a flow’r
Each trifle seemed a treasure;
For trifles light as air can please
The guileless heart in hours of ease.
While straying and maying,
Amid the early blooming flow’rs.

Court Jester

You know how you volunteer to do something because it seems like a good idea at the time, then you get into the thick of it and wonder what in the world you were smokin’?

Well, our community’s annual Mendon “May Day” celebration is this weekend and I volunteered to teach the “May Day Queen’s Court” a song and promenade/dance they perform as part of the program.

The “court” is made up of all the juniors in high school in our community who want to participate. They wear formal clothes and are presented to the community as part of the celebration. Sort of debutante-ish, if you will.

My daughter is a junior and part of the court this year, so I wanted to get involved.

With 19 couples this year, it’s one of the largest courts this community has ever had. Teaching 38 teenagers of varying ability in singing and dancing skills with sporadic practice attendance has been a challenge, to say the least.

They are a great group of kids and have done very well considering we’ve only have four practices to pull this thing together. But they constantly talk, and flirt, and goof off, which I understand because I was once a teenager too, but now I know just how freakin’ annoying I was!

This isn’t an audition thing, it’s a community involvement thing, so I’ve got divas, monotones, ballroom bad boys, wallflowers and total un-co’s. With such a span of ability, it was hard to choose a song and choreograph a dance that would accommodate all levels of ability. I think I did okay.

I think.

Yesterday was the mandatory final dress rehearsal. We were missing 8 kids. Eight kids! The whole group has never actually performed their song and dance all together. Some of them have only been to one rehearsal, and for some of them that was yesterday’s rehearsal!

I’m not gonna lie. I’m scared for them, for me, for us!

I volunteered because I love my daughter, the youth of our community, my quaint little hometown and its traditions, and I wanted to help make this 150th anniversary year of our May Day Celebration special with a great presentation of our youth. But if my court of kids screw up and make me look like a fool, then it’s “Off with their heads!”

The Hmmger Games

I’m late, I know.

The rest of my family saw the much anticipated blockbuster the weekend it came out, but I was off being responsible, so I was only recently able to join the cool kids in saying I’ve seen The Hunger Games.

Hmmm.

That’s what I thought as I walked out of the theater after watching The Hunger Games.

Hmmm.

I wanted to love it, because I love the book.

I didn’t love it.

I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t love it.

I liked it, I guess.

Was there a budget lapse for this film? That’s what I kept wondering as I watched. I mean, the book series is about the most popular series to come out since Harry Potter and Twilight, right? So, why did the whole thing feel kinda low budget? It was like I was watching an indie version of The Hunger Games, or a documentary format, or what the movie would be like if they’d made it back in 1995.

I mean, this story was supposed to be a futuristic fantasy to the max, right? A pimped out techstreme Capitol city of overblown excess, worldliness and vanity! Mind-blowing architectural and landscaping applications like the Las Vegas strip on steroids! People with over-the-top cosmetic enhancements, pigmentations, and alterations that would make Priscilla Presley look like an ancient hack!

What did they give us? A funky shaved beard. Hair pulled back in a pony tail then spray painted blue. A white powdered face with a big, curly, white wig. They were doing that back in 17th century France, for heaven’s sake.

I see more extreme experimentation with body, skin, and hair applications at the local mall than I saw in “The Capitol.”

On the other hand, District 12 is supposed to be the extreme in repression and poverty. When Gale met Katniss in the woods to hunt, he looked liked he’d just stepped out of a Gap ad – all clean cut, preppy and buff.

Then there’s “The Games.” Where were the mutant dogs with the creepy human characteristics that resembled the dead tributes? If they can make Ralph Fiennes’ face morph into Voldemort, can’t they superimpose a generic teen face onto a dog’s? And where was Rue jumping from tree to tree? They made vampires do it in the Twilight movies.

Disappointing.

What I wasn’t disappointed with was Katniss. Jennifer Lawrence was fabulous – a perfect casting choice. She was tough, yet vulnerable. The only thing lacking in her role was that the screenplay adaptation didn’t give her enough to work with in telling more of her story – her survival struggle, her family’s and district’s history, her deep connection to Gale for survival, her background with Peeta. She had the capability to do more, the format just didn’t let her.

Haymitch was well cast too. I was a Woody Harrelson fan back in his Cheers days. He is a phenomenal actor though a strange person in real life, which is probably why he has an inclination to play dark, complicated characters. He does it well, as he does here with Haymitch. Again, I think the screenplay left him hangin’ with what he could have done with it had they let his character develop more.

In fact, that’s what was lacking overall in this movie – depth.

There were no cheesy Hollywood additives or preservatives, like needless nudity, and for that I was grateful. They did stay true to the integral framework of the book and handle the violent nature of the story well, but there was just too much missing emotionally. With a lengthy 142 minute running time, they could have filled that time much more effectively to connect you to the characters. They really assumed you’d read the book before you went to the theater, which is kind of a cop out. Why does Katniss hug her stylist Cinna so intensely before she enters the arena? You only know why if you’ve read the book.

Overall, I was sufficiently entertained while I ate plenty of popcorn and candy. But I left the theater still feeling hungry.

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