“So, kids, don’t forget. I’m leaving tomorrow and I won’t be back until Sunday night.”
“Where are you going?”
“Salt Lake City.”
“Why?”
“To see some friends.”
“What their names?”
“Heather and Jon.”
“Heather and Jon what?”
“Armstrong.”
“Are they related to Louis Armstrong?”
“Absolutely.”
My Teeth Done Falled Out
Do you ever have that dream* where your teeth fall out? It doesn’t hurt or anything and you don’t bleed but you suddenly spit a tooth out into your hand and go, ‘Hey! There’s my tooth.’
I’ve had that dream now and again over the years. The most recent time was a few months ago and it was in the middle of the day about an hour south of Las Vegas. Oh, and it wasn’t a dream. It was REAL LIFE. Oh yes. All it takes is a piece of red licorice and a loose crown for you to have your own fun time. I’ll set you up, if you want. Just give me a call. One second you’ll be playing travel-sized Battle Ship with your son (and kicking his butt, heh) and the next you are a brick-wall silent-type shell of your former self as suddenly, you feel a squarish, hard, tooth shaped object rolling around in the licorice. In your pause, your mind is saying, ‘Did I eat teeth? I don’t remember eating a tooth. Why does my licorice feel like a tooth?’ and things like ‘Am I bleeding? Nope. Huh. Is it a tooth?’ and then ‘Dude. I guess I’ll have to spit it out in my hand to see.’ So, I did. And it was a tooth. And I sat there, staring at this tooth in my hand for about a full two minutes before I realized that if it was in fact a tooth, which it was, and I wasn’t bleeding, which I wasn’t, and it didn’t hurt, which it didn’t, I had to be dreaming. Wow, that took a long time to figure out. And then Alexandra pushed me to the side of the seat to make more room for her and the DVD player and her elbow in my ribs spoke loud and clear. I WAS AWAKE.
If this happens again, I’m sure it won’t take me 7 years to figure out that it is my crown. Big whoop-de-do. My crown. Just keep your mouth shut and don’t drink or eat anything or allow any AIR to get on your stubby toothlet until you can grab some Fixodent or you will be SORRY. Because, remember when I said it didn’t hurt? That was before I blinked or sniffed or….sat still and thought thoughts and breathed. Because that all hurt. And then putting the crown back on with some cementy** stuff? Really painful for a really long time. And if you get the thought to gargle with some spicy mouthwash to cut down on the chance of any little germies, can I just say to you, with all that I am, don’t do it. Really. Bad. Idea.
*Dreams of having teeth fall out are said to sometimes represent we are afraid of losing parts of ourselves. I had dreams about teeth falling out off and on my entire life until I was integrated.
**And then Joe found me a less glorious version of this kit that contains a lot of things I didn’t need, which I carry around in my purse with me as if I was a virile young married guy on his honeymoon that wants to always be prepared in case he sees his wife.
Speaking of Boys in Cars
Alex and I were driving to pick Ty and Tony up from the gym where they go twice a week because their dad set them up with a personal trainer. Someday, they are both going to play for the NFL and in their speeches where they thank the little people in their lives, they’ll thank their dad for the large guns they sport on each arm thanks to their personal trainer when they were in 6th and 7th grade and then they’ll thank me for trying to remember to have Gatorade in the house.
Anyway, Alex and I had been talking about boys and makeup and how I’m #1 on her MySpace, just like we always do, when the van slid up to the curb. We stopped our conversation and waited for them to climb in. At first, I thought they were arguing about something that had happened during their training session. But as they climbed over the seat and hit me in the head with water bottles and shoes, I realized that they were just talking. Loudly. Very animated and over each other.
‘Finally!’ I thought. ‘They have bonded to the point that they can have deep conversations about things that really matter to them! They can be there for each other and back each other up. Give advice! They’ll always have each other!’ And I smiled and looked meaningfully at Alex so she would know that we should sit reverently and observe this wonderful moment. And here is what we heard:
“And – and then the one kids all ‘You don’t even know sucka!’ ”
“And then the guys all put up their sweatshirt hoods -”
“And you hear the voice say, ‘Then they slipped into Da Hood.’ ”
“And then the one cool guy -”
“He kinda twists his hat all side-to-side really fast and is all ‘Don’t make me go crazy, now!‘ ”
“And the other kids all (in a total gangsta voice) ‘Whazzup Run Nee One? Whazzup Die Ah Ree Ah?‘ ”
(laughing hysterically with each other)
(Alexandra and I exchange a look)
‘And so- and so then the close-up goes into the hands and it shows that symbol.’
(they slowly bring their hands towards each other and in unison chant)
‘Poop………………………….poop………………….poop…………….poop………….poop………poop
…….poop…..poop…poop..pooppooppooppooppoop.’
Yes. My sons were planning a movie short about poo. And it’s the only time I can think of that they were in total agreement with each other and had no conflict for an extended period of time. And so happy with themselves. Someday, it is conceivable that I will be invited to watch a film they have created together. And the subject of that film might be excrement. I will be so proud.
Things Related to Cars
1. Driving the other day, I saw a car, driver with a backwards baseball cap as the youth of today are wont to do, with an air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. The shape of the freshener was a fist with an extended finger. My thought and subsequent question to Joe: ‘What scent is F You?’
2. Saturday mornings mean GET UP AT THE BUTTCRACK OF DAWN AND TAKE THE BOYS TO THE TRACKMEET and I have to write it in all caps because that is what is feels like. I would prefer a whisper, but that is not to be had. While the boys are awake and actively talking about who’s little spirits they are going to stomp by slamming their record into the dirt, I endeavor to drive. Just drive. That is it. Please. I’ll just concentrate on the driving and occasionally sip from the cup that holds the Nectar of the Gods otherwise known as coffee. So, this past Saturday morning, it took me awhile to tune in and hear what Ty and Tony were saying. Nay singing. The song on the radio: Take a Picture by Filter. And here is what they were singing to me:
Please won’t you take our picture
So the flash will wake up mommmmm
Please won’t you take our pihihihicture
So the flash will wake up our mom
We don’t believe in coffee
We don’t believe in coffee
She’s going to crash our car
Please Leave a Message
Guess what? I’m not here. I’m driving to my niece, Alison’s, wedding to the awesome Tony which is to be held deep in the bosom of Utah. Or, if it’s Friday, I’m helping to decorate. Or if it’s Saturday, I’m actually at the ceremony, crying and hugging people and shooting photos of the lovely event. Or if it’s Sunday, I’m driving to my parent’s home. And, if it’s Monday, I’m driving back through Death Valley, passing the alien that sells beef jerky and the world’s largest thermometer, and almost home.
In the meantime, should you miss me, you can browse through the new favorites page I created just for you. Yes! You! You’ll find the most hit entries from the past 3 years plus I tossed in a couple of my own favorites that don’t get enough love.
Also, there are the interviews, flickr and the columns. And, on Monday, a new interview will magically appear even though I’m not even here!! I would tell you who it is but that would totally ruin the surprise. But I’ll give you a hint: it’s someone that is crafty.
That should totally cover you until I get back.
xo
On the Phone
“Mommy, her house is on Bank Street. And since you always get lost and blame it on me and say I didn’t say it right, I’m going to spell it out for you. Ready? B as in Boy, A as in Apple, N as in ……. Gnome, and K as in …………….Cool but like the really cool people spell it.”
Panorama Driving
I posted a whole bunch of panorama photos that I took over the past few weeks. All of them but one was taken while Joe was driving and I was able to shoot through the windows in the van. I love doing it. It’s like a puzzle. Here is one of my favorites taken while going around the bend right before Hurricane, Utah:
EDIT: I’ve had a few requests to see the original size of the panoramas. There is really no way to do that because some are 20MB. But I did add one at 7000 px wide. Just go to the ‘all sizes’ on this one and view it in the original size.
Stinkyass Catsnitch
When I pulled into the parking lot, I was glad to see there was a spot left for me. Everything is so packed right now, I’m lucky if I can find one within a mile of the store front door. But walking is good, right?
He yelled at me across the parked car isle: “You wanted to pass me bad, huh? But you couldn’t.” and he snickered a little laugh. After my initial shock at being yelled at in a parking lot, I recognized his red ball cap and the white SUV he was walking away from. Just a few minutes ago, I had tried to pass his car on the freeway, got cut off and wasn’t able to, waited for him to zoom past me on my right, waited for about 3 other cars to follow him, and then got over to get off at the exit. “But you could have got in after me, where you were in the first place! It’s not like I’m one of those crazyass drivers that carries a gun! I wouldn’t shoot ya!” snicker snicker snicker ‘Yes,’ I thought, ‘you are certainly not appearing to be crazy.’
“I didn’t care if I got in front of you or you were in front of me as long as it was a LONG way in front of me. I didn’t want your stinky cigarette smoke stinking up my car any longer.”
He stops walking and stares. “You’re one of THOSE kinda people? Well, that’s WORSE! Stinkyass Catsnitch!” He flipped me off and stormed away, thankfully to another store.
Stinkyass Catsnitch?
I think I’ve found a new catchphrase.
Goths Drive Acuras
I had my purse/backpack, my lunchbox, my cell phone, my keys and my tea all positioned in such a way that nothing could drop if I walked straight to the car with my head in the right position and didn’t have to go around anything. I clicked the unlock button on my keychain, used my pinky finger to open the door and then stepped back slightly while the door opened to it’s fullest. So far so good – nothing spilled or dropped. I kept telling myself that if I could just get the tea in the cup holder, the rest would be easy.
And I did it. I got the tea in the cup holder. I set my lunchbox and purse/backpack down on the passenger seat and reached to the backseat to get my olive green, corduroy shirt that I use for a jacket and knocked my tea over onto the driver’s seat. Just kidding. See? That DIDN’T happen. Which means that the morning should have gone fine.
After slipping on my jacket, I said good morning to the punk kid that was getting into his car across the cul-de-sac. He’s 16, maybe 17, has size 1 black plugs in his ears, dyed black hair, wearing all black clothes and accessories with silver spikes and carries around him an air of getting the short end of the stick and of general entitlement. I’m all for the freedom of expression, so it doesn’t bother me in the least the way he dresses. I myself still consider getting my nose pierced every other week.
No, it wasn’t his fashion sense that bothered me, or the way he grunted and rolled his eyes at me as he swung into his car. It was the way that he kept his little silver piece of crap Acura lodged in my tailpipe as we drove the 2 miles to the main road. And as he urged me to push my speed to above 190 in the 45 zone, I showed my great love for his actions by slowing down to 30.
When we got to the main road, I signaled right, (so did he) and inched a little further up, trying to extradite myself from him. And then it happened. He hit me. He hit my back bumper with a very loud thud.
I got out and walked back to see the damage. And this is the part where I appreciate the way that the Chevy people build their vehicles that guzzle fortunes of gas because there was no damage to my car at all. No. In fact, it was his paint all over my bumper and it just flaked off with a small rub of my finger. My bumper had no idea that anything had even happened. My bumper had his arms folded across his chest, his gut sucked in and asked, ‘Wha?? You lookin’ at me?’
I looked at Gothpunk and he was all, ‘I thought you went!’ with his lips painted in black lipstick. ‘You thought I went?’ I asked him. ‘Ya! Totally! I thought you went!’ ‘Well, did you look up and think I went or were you actually looking down at your lap or fiddling with the radio and think I went? Because if it’s the first thing, you really should get some glasses or some anti-hallucinogens. And if it’s the second, stop playing with yourself while you drive.’ He laughed. He laughed! And then said, ‘You’re pretty funny. No, seriously, I totally thought you went!’
Dashboard Hula Dancer in the Van
Murhy's Law
I generally think of myself as an earth-friendly person. I don’t let my kids litter. I was a smoker for 13 years or so and never threw a cigarette butt out of the car window, although one was pulled from my fingers once and was gone before I could even blink. That was a sad day which I’m not sure I’ve fully recovered from.
I recycle. At one time I had 6 trashcans to accommodate 6 types of rubbish. I no longer have that many but I have enough. I compulsively follow up when my kids throw things away to make sure that no can or plastic bottle goes unnoticed and into the wrong bin. I even go so far as to pick up other people’s litter when I see it and it’s not too sticky, providing I have a pocket to put it in. I’m generally a good citizen. I vote. I stay current with what’s going on around me. I buy Girl Scout cookies and donate to those lying kids that sell magazine subscriptions to make money for college when I know they are really going to buy crack, but I can’t prove it, and what if they are telling the truth?
I don’t shop at behemoths like Wal-mart, unless absolutely necessary and feel guilty every second, and do shop at local stores to support our cities infrastructure. I buy meat and produce that is hormone and pesticide free and organically grown in the local area, thereby supporting our farmers. I eat protein powder in my home-made smoothies made with frozen organically grown bananas. I drink lots of water. I wear energy patches. I try to get enough sleep. I remind my kids to take their vitamins and brush their teeth. I believe in a Higher Power. I believe in Karma. And I believe we are all socially responsible for out planet.
And for years I drove a small, gas efficient, stick-shift car with broken tape deck, no CD player, a compulsion for blowing the front right tire and passed on the opportunity to own a new Hummer when they first were pushed into the forefront of vehicle manufacturing, even though it was yellow, because I care about our energy resources and the air we breathe. I also passed on the massive F150 with the red flames licking across the front even though I love flames and licking. And when the air conditioning broke for the third time in my too small and naturally evil Escort which was no longer under warranty, I just kept driving it anyway, knowing I was somehow doing something good for Mother Earth by not getting one of the dammed SUVs because I was waiting for the hybrid van. I didn’t care who would come out with one that actually worked well first – Ford or Toyota, I just wanted one. So I waited. And waited. And waited.
And then I got married. And it came to pass that there were six of us, two being quite large, and not all could fit at the same time. This became a source of many contentious moments and many, many, many trips made in two vehicles instead of one. And I figured I waited long enough.
Last Wednesday we bought a van. A huge, gas-guzzling, 50-dollars-to-fill-the-tank, black, 8-seater Chevy Astro. And we all fit with room to spare and no one touches or has to squirm. It has AIR CONDITIONING which allows me to drive without the windows rolled down in 100 degree heat, sweat rolling down my back in steady streams. It has a 6-changer CD player so I can listen to Bjork and Frou Frou without the background accompaniment of the wind. And now, five (5) days later, Ford announces you can order their new hybrid vehicle online. Right now. No waiting. Which makes me an energy-conscious, world-loving freak that drives around in a humungous, spectacular, earth killing vehicle. It’s a bit of a conundrum.
God Bless You
On my way to work this morning, stuck in traffic, I sneezed quite loudly. The man in the vehicle next to me said, ‘God bless you.’ I said thanx.