Please be over before the fat lady hurls...

I don't give a rats ass about the royal wedding.  I don't care where Kate spent the night before or what her dress looks like or how the groom combed his thinning head of hair!  I just want to safely watch TV and get on the internet without hearing about the boring-ass details!  Gah!

"Stella" is throwing a royal wedding party tonight to watch the highlights.  I'll go-- but just for the booze. I'm going to wear a big, ugly-ass hat

and drink with my pinky out.  (But NO warm beer. Ugh.)  Maybe we'll have some real British food like Bangers and Mash or Toad in the Hole.

 











Those Brits may seem stodgy but they sure do have some erotic food.  Or maybe it's just been too long since my bangers were mashed...

A bearable lightness of being

Back when I was raising my kids I remember reading the T. Berry Brazelton book Touchpoints.  He described how children would regress before they made some great stride in their development-- like getting clinging and cranky before venturing out and learning to crawl. 

This past week has been my touchpoint.  I have been depressed (the weather didn't help) and tired and just wanted to go to bed and pull the covers over my head for a few weeks.  Or months. 

But today I learned to crawl.  I took what felt like a giant leap and made an appointment with a lawyer.  And suddenly the sun is shining and birds are singing and I feel a sense of peace.  The journey is still ahead but I suddenly feel light and hopeful. And the planned trip to Vegas for my birthday doesn't hurt.

The right to bare arms

For 48 summers my shoulders have been hidden from sunlight.  Blouses with sleeves have been the rule of the day-- sleeves that were long enough to cover any real (or even potential) garments.  Train the girls from the time they are babies to dress modestly and they won't go astray! 

(Okay, there was the brief period in high school where I wore tube tops under my modest shirts and then removed the modesty once I left the house.  But tube tops make your boobs look like a couple of fried eggs landed on your chest, so it may have been daring but it wasn't flattering.)

Well, this summer I am going to show off my lily-white beacons of apostasy!

It's just too bad I caught a terminal case of relief society arm. 
 

Watch out world!  Here they come!

I'm baaaaack...

It's a long-ass drive to Reno.  And your ass is feeling long by the time you get there.  Wendover...Elko... Winnemucca...Lovelock...  But throw a couple of wild friends in the car with you and the time goes pretty fast.

Here are some snapshots of random events of the trip, farted in no particular order.

The Hat



This is "Stella" wearing the magic hat.  (Secret identity mask added to protect her anonymity.)  Whoever wore it got carded.  I never wore it.  I never got carded.  I wish I looked better in hats.

The Booze

The first order of business was to shop for booze and mixers and set up a bar in the room.  I don't trust vodka in a plastic bottle so we didn't buy this but I loved the label.  Yes, I do worship vodka.  And whipped cream vodka really does taste like whipped cream.  And I still don't like beer, not even the imported stuff like Stella Artois.  "Stella", above, was getting her groove on with that shit all weekend.

The Sex Store

You know you're not in a Utah sex store when there's a porn video playing on a big screen TV.  It was the first time I've seen porn and, I must say, I was rather disappointed.  It looked more like an instructional video.  Do this, put that leg over here and do that, turn this way, try that.  Really didn't do much for me at all.  Then I noticed the hallway with what looked like dressing room doors.  Odd.  I hadn't seen any clothes for sale.  Oh!  Ewwwwwwww!  I would NOT want to be the one that has to clean that store.  *shudder*

The City

 We stayed at a slightly skanky place on the old strip.  (It was booked online because of the very low price.)  But once we got off the strip and into the other parts of the city it was beautiful!  There is a river running right through town that people were kayaking on!  The whole area is surrounded by gorgeous mountains and green valleys.  I fell in love a little bit.  I want one of those apartments with the balconies that overlook the park.

The Awesomest Waiter Ever

Ryan works at a diner on the strip.  He can pop the top off a beer bottle with only a cheap, plastic lighter.  He is a former alcoholic and meth addict who has been clean and sober for three years.  I can't imagine being a recovering alcoholic and working around booze all day.  It would be like me swearing off donuts and working in a bakery.  He was also incredibly friendly and anticipated our every need.  We tipped him very, very well.

The Reason We Were There in the First Place

We were there to watch a volleyball tournament.  And this sign would have been funnier if it had been guys playing instead of girls.

There was a sea of thighs everywhere you looked.  Seriously.  There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of volleyball players there with young, firm thighs.  It was a constant reminder that my thighs have long since lost any youth or firmness they once possessed. 

The Second Most Awesome Waiter Ever

Our first night there we went to a random pizza place to grab dinner.  When the waiter found out we were from Utah he told us he was raised Mormon and was sealed to his parents but preferred chasing booze and skirts.  He taught Social Studies at a high school during the day and so was able to tell us all about Nevada history, throwing in a few jokes along the way.   

 Most random event of the trip:

Stopping in Elko for gas and seeing my brother-in-law and nephew.  This is the dude that is married to my oldest sister-- the one I cut off contact with several years ago because I'd had enough of her controlling and manipulative behavior.  And here was her lackey/husband in the wilds of Nevada.  I'm pretty sure they heard us talking about booze and noticed my lack of wedding ring.  I can  feel the rumblings of the family rumor mill starting up...

All in all, a very successful trip.  Though I gained at least five pounds from the alcohol alone. 

Reno bound

After years of forgetting Nevada was mere hours away from my home, I am now headed there for a second time in less than a month.  A chance for a very long weekend in Reno was offered and I accepted with alacrity.  A road trip with my 'ho girls! One is happily married to Jesus (true story--he posed for Greg Olsen), one freshly divorced, and then there's me, who is neither.  It should be an interesting four days.  Or maybe I'll find work as a pole dancer and just stay there. 

Masturbation in marriage.

This is a powerful video I came across.  The second part that deals with masturbation and marriage hit me especially hard.  It brought back the memory early in my marriage of my husband telling me that he had had to resort to masturbation.  I. Was. Devastated. I sat in my room and cried desperate tears. My husband had committed the sin next to murder because of MY ineptness as a wife.  I had a baby and a toddler, was alone at least 16 hours of the day and most of the night, had recently had a ruptured appendix which took months to recover from and had spiraled into a deep depression which required medication.  The last thing I needed was the guilt heaped on me because of his "sin", but there it was.  It was my fault.  If I were just a better wife...

Just imagine if I had been able to say, like the woman in the video suggests, "go take care of yourself, honey," without feeling any guilt or pressure.  Without the additional weight of another's "sin".

About 20 years later, at the age of 45, I was extremely dissatisfied  with my marriage and especially the state of my sex life.  It's true that women reach their sexual peak in the 40's and the attempts at sex with my husband were not only few and far between but bitterly frustrating.  The first time I tried masturbating I was horribly ashamed and really had no idea what I was doing.  But to have reached that ripe old age and still not be familiar with my own body was the real sin.  And it's a sad state of affairs in a marriage when your first real orgasm is powered by batteries and your own hand.

First I learned to take charge of my own physical and sexual needs and then moved on to emotional and spiritual.   Maybe that's why masturbation is considered so sinful and dangerous to Mormons...it leads to freedom in mind and body.

World's largest doormat wants to grow a pair...of...something or other

A friend mentioned in passing how accomodating I was and it made me think.  Accomodating is one thing, but I am a doormat.  I always have been.  I just smile and make nice and eat whatever plate of shit is being dished up at the time.  And then I say thank you.

When I was growing up it was to keep mom happy or dinner would be dripping down the dining room wall before we could eat it.  If mom wasn't happy, nobody was safe.

And I was taught at church that I was only a woman.  The man held the priesthood.  He was the head and I was to defer to him.  First my dad, then my husband.  'Cause Eve doesn't speak.  She just shuts up and goes along with things.

So is it any wonder I have trouble standing up for myself now?  For whatever reason, I am a pleaser.  I want people to like me.  I feel I really don't deserve anything better than what I'm given.  And I'm just a woman and can't be trusted to know what's best for me.  It all adds up to a "kick me" sign on my back.

Well, not anymore!  I'm going to find that fine line between doormat and complete-bitch-that-no-one-can-stand-to-be-around.

So I'm going to start saying things like:

No, I can't take your shift.  I need a night off too.  And I deserve one.

I didn't dirty these dishes so I'm not going to spend my precious time off washing them.  Learn to clean up after yourself.

If you want to go back to college, you find a job and pay your own way.  It doesn't mean I don't love you.

While I'm flattered by the attention, I don't feel the same and don't want to pursue a relationship. 

I really don't want to sleep on the floor and I don't think I should have to.

And the big one will be:

I deserve happines and respect and I'm going off to find it. Goodbye.

This is going to take a lot of practice.   

Not-so-random acts of quiet defiance

• Throwing away the church magazines as soon as they come in the mail.  (They're available online, right?)

• Tossing the almost-daily Deseret Book flyer.

• Encouraging the youngest to do the things she loves even if they conflict with Mutual activities.  (Oh, bad mom, wanting a well-rounded and happy child!)

• Leaving my tea and instant coffee on the counter in plain sight.  (The horror!) 

It's the little things that bring joy to your heart.  Heheheheh.

The path of least resistance

Once again Cognitive Dissenter has channeled my mood.  Why do we tolerate the intolerable?  I've been asking myself this question since I returned from sunny Las Vegas to frosty conditions. (Oh, and it was cold outside, too.)  I've tolerated the intolerable because it is the path of least resistance.  I don't make waves.  I don't like confrontation.  Not going to church has been the path of least resistance for me because of the effort it took mentally just to go.  It was exhausting and I simply couldn't do it anymore.

Only at work am I able to thumb my nose at authority.  I keep a drink in my cart!  (Only Diet Coke or water, although booze would be preferable.)  It is against the rules and the younger girls are aghast at my audacity.  But I say, fuck those stupid, young managers.  They aren't walking the floor for eight hours and well as answering the damn phone.  Yeah, I'm a rebel.  But that's really as far as my public displays of disaffection go. 

I've been in a deep depression since returning home.  There have been many hours of work to catch up on because no good vacation goes unpunished.  I've slept-walked through it all, just trying to put one foot in front of the other, like slogging through quicksand and trying not to get sucked under.  Then one day I turned around and a man looked me in the eyes and smiled.  He is unfazed by my age and extra pounds and wedding ring.  He thinks I'm beautiful and sexy and is smitten.  And I suddenly notice all the paths opening up in front of me.  I may not take this particular path but I know it's time to get off the path of least resistance.  Because there really are better ones out there.  Paths with dappled sunshine and companionship.  Booze and a coffee maker.  And maybe actual love...

Phewwww!!!!

I hate conference weekend.  I'm trying not to breathe in.

Privacy to fart

I have to have privacy to blog.  I simply can't do it in front of people.  I can't concentrate.  It's too embarrassing.  I have to have a bit of alone time before I can just relax and let it blow.  So I've been keeping it all inside and in the past couple of weeks I have bloated to an enormous size.  (Though a small portion can be attributed to all the food and booze in Vegas.) 

Alone time has been scarce.  I'm either working or sleeping or the house is full.  Or a combination of them. (Working and sleeping at the same time is especially hard but sometimes I manage it.)  But this evening Nosy and her dad went to the temple.  Yes, they righteously toddled off to the temple for dinner and a movie and left the godless heathen mommy at home by herself.  (With a Schmirnoff Ice hidden under my bed right next to my vibrator.)

But the gas is suddenly gone.  Vanished.  WTF.  What happened to the all the righteous indignation?  The snark?  The pissyness?  The impending dread of conference weekend and being trapped in the house with the monotonous sound of voices blaring from every speaker we own?  It's all gone.  Gone with the wind.  And now they are home.  And the bloat begins again.