The Coldplay conundrum

Last night I was sitting alone staring at the naked Christmas tree, listening to music and having a nice, stiff drink. One dog was farting and the smell wafted gently through the room. ( I have GOT to get that pine candle.) The other dog was noisily licking himself and obviously enjoying it. A Coldplay song came on. And I liked it.

As I remember this scene in the cold light of day, I find it disturbing. Not because of my farting dog. (She's getting up in years and farts all the time. It reminds me of my mom and I find it kind of comforting.) It wasn't because I was drinking alone. Again. And it wasn't because I should have been decorating the tree but wasn't.

No, the disturbing thing was that I enjoyed listening to a Coldplay song. This isn't me. I prefer the growling of Breaking Benjamin, the clamor of NIN, the whine of Evanescence and screaming along with Psychostick. Am I mellowing out? Losing my anger? Acting my age?! Will I start wearing my reading glasses on a thing around my neck now?! That last thought scares the shit out of me.


Behold my future. It's not pretty.

Damn fine loin fruit

Random things I am thankful for this year:

Funny dog pictures. They cheer me up when nothing else can.

I mean, who doesn't smile at this?!

A son who offered to not only host dinner in his new house, but cook it all too!

Food so good that I actually ate carbs. Ham with cherry port glaze so incredible that I sounded like Homer Simpson with a donut. Pork loin that melted on your tongue. Bacon in the stuffing. Who needs a damn bird when you've got pig?

That I only ate one piece of turtle pie. And it was more than enough. I shall now suffer for days, I'm sure.

Stretchy pants! My stretchiest pants were in the wash but I did have my stretch cords, which, while not as stretchy as I needed, did the job okay.

A daughter who told her brother that he has turned her into a "Thanksgiving snob". Only the best food will do now. Boxed stuffing and canned yams will never be enjoyed at our table again.

Rum concealed in my Diet Coke. As I sipped, all remaining exhaustion, stress and tension subsided and I thoroughly enjoyed being with my kids.

A boss that didn't schedule me until noon on Black Friday. She may be a bitch but she likes me.

And finally, for some damn fine loin fruit! None of them are perfect but each one is an incredible human being. And gorgeous. I couldn't help but look at them in wonder. These are the fruit of my loins. I did okay.

Retell hell--Yewtah style

I've lived in Utah long enough to have acquired some of the vernacular but sometimes I get thrown a WTF curveball while working retail. Like the woman who asked where the "laygins" were. I looked blank and she explained.  "You know, those things the girls wear under their dresses." Oh, of course. Leggings! I get several laygin requests each week but now I know what they are. Because a good Utah mormon can't have too many layers under her knee-length shirt.

Yesterday a man came in to the store looking for "the $20 coat". His wife had sent him with these far-from-explicit instructions, apparently expecting there to be a rack near the door with an arrow and a huge flashing sign "$20 COATS". When  no such rack was to be seen, he was clueless and asked for help. I politely grilled him for any shred of helpful information. Was he looking for men's coats? Women's? Girl's? Boy's? Infant's? Lightweight? Heavyweight? Zipper, buttons, hood? He didn't have a clue and his wife wasn't answering her phone. He finally told me it was for a humanitarian project (to be sent overseas to the destitute) so it might not matter about the size, color or sex. I showed him numerous coats priced around $20 but he was hesistant to choose any of them. I guess he was waiting for a sign from god to guide him to the mythical coat. As a last resort, I got the current store ad and combed it for anything that was priced at $20. The only item was a woman's fleece-lined hoodie and I led him over to the rack. "That's not really a coat, is it?" was the only response I got from him. Holy hell and brains for breakfast! It's a good thing the store's phone rang or I might have been tempted to bitch slap him.

It's gonna be a looooong holiday season.

Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire...

It's been four weeks since my mom's funeral. It's been three months since I last saw my dear friend who I'd come to rely on so much. I guess it's no wonder I've been in a funk. It's been hard to get out of bed but easy to climb back in. The colder and grayer the day is the more sedentary and gloomy I become. It's been common on nights that I don't work for me to have a drink and go to bed early. I know it's not normal. I know it's not healthy. I know I need to shake it off somehow before I sink too deep.

Today I got something hot in the mail. A Kindle Fire. A FREE Kindle Fire. Yeah, it pays to have relatives with connections. I've been wanting one of these since I first heard of them. And yes, it is awesome. So this afternoon I'm warming myself by my Fire and trying to think positive thoughts. And maybe I'll even read a book on it. After I play Angry Birds for a while.

Crafting with booze

As I mixed a luscious gin and Fresca tonight, I reached into my liquor cabinet (otherwise known as under-the-bed) and discovered that I only had a couple of ounces of gin left. *sigh*. Then I discovered an empty rum bottle and a nearly-empty vodka bottle. Oh, dear. This presents a real conundrum. If I'm going to keep drinking at this rate, I will need to figure out some way to dispose of those empties! I could just throw them in the garbage but they're so pretty! One jaunty gin bottle came complete with a little top hat. Maybe it was the flyer on my door for a Big Relief Society Craft Night, but I feel inspired to do something creative with them. Let me think...

I could:

Arrange them prettily on the bishop's porch or perch them jauntily among the autumnal mums in his flower bed.

Leave them in a box for the young women's president, offering them for use as a visual aid for her next lesson on The Word of Wisdom and The Evils of Demon Liquor.

Use one as a vase for a lovely flower arrangement.

Make a lovely little lamp

Use them to hold my bitchin' boots upright when I'm not wearing them.

Make some delightful Christmas decorations with just a few strings of lights. (Elvis optional.)

And best of all-- a Christmas tree! I'd better start drinking more if I'm going to have enough bottles by Christmas! Yay! A reason to drink! Like I need another one.

Ch-ch-ch-changes...

After my mom's funeral the sisters gathered together to divvy up her few possessions, including some family photographs she had enlarged and framed. One of those was a picture of the six of us girls taken six or eight years ago in the lobby of the conference center. There was a woman standing at the back of the group and it gave me a start. Holy shit. It was me! I hardly recognized myself. My hair was a serviceable three or so inches long and sprayed into a helmet-y flip. I had on a pair of glasses that I still have but know better than to wear in public. And worst of all was the pale limey green t-shirt draped from my collar bone, camouflaging any hint of shape. I remember that shirt. I'd bought two of them at Shopko because they were on clearance. (Yeah, I rocked that Shopko style. *ack*) My sisters all looked great, but the anemic lime in the background just looked sad. I could hardly recognize myself. I was using that green fabric to hide under. To hide all the donuts I ate to feel better. All the self-loathing I had because I could never do enough and do it right. And to hide those suffocating garments that made me feel like a dumpy sack of moldy potatoes. My face showed that I was beyond miserable.

Seeing that photograph really made me think about the way my life has changed. The way I have changed. I think my weight is about the same as it was then but I feel so very different. I think the biggest change is I'm not trying to conform. To fit in. To be assimilated, to use a Star Trek expression. But that's really what it was. I was simply trying to disappear into the role of perfect wife, mother and church member but failing miserably. And it showed.

But now I'm trying to express who I am and how I feel and I feel happy and sexy and strong. I dress FOR my body not to hide my body. I have no garments to work around. And most of all, I feel freer, happier and more in control of my life and MYSELF. I don't feel the need to hide. I'm now putting all of me out there for the world to see. All my 6'2" brickhouse self for the world to accept or not. Those who can't accept me don't really matter anyway.

I've heard of late bloomers but taking almost 50 years is getting a bit ridiculous. But better late than never!

A year of farting

I just realized that I published my first post last November 4th. Wow, how time flies when you're passing gas! I've met so many new people through blogging, some even face-to-face. I've gone way out of my comfort zone, had some incredible experiences and feel mentally stronger than I have in my life. I could have paid big bucks for therapy this past year. But farting is free and waaaay more fun. Thanks to all who read my shit!

Let's encourage those heterosexuals cause I'm sure they're having a reeeeal tough time...

New!  From Deseret Book, of course! Because hetero discrimination is rampant!

http://deseretbook.com/Encouraging-Heterosexuality-Helping-Children-Develop-Traditional-Sexual-Orientation-Dean-Byrd/i/5028656

Feel free to vomit in appropriate receptacles. Like Deseret Book stores.