Sunday, March 29, 2009

Punks Unite

Lil A' and I have been plotting and planning for a month on Mr. Thompson's 40th birthday party. Although the big event doesn't happen until Monday, we had a Totally Awesome 80's surprise party for him last night.

Lil A' was bursting all day long and I was SURE she was going to let it all come pouring out. Aside for the slip in Home Depot (which he didn't hear) and her dancing in the aisle because she couldn't hold the secret inside anymore...she did great. She even kept it quiet when she went with her dad to work after getting the call that the Lab's temperature alarms "went off". I was proud of her.

At home, it was a mad dash for me and my sisters (who again saved the day) as we dusted off our leg warmers, admired each other's jelly bracelets, decorated the pad and fixed our friends up in rad mullets. It was be there or be square...and then...

SURPRISE!

You Give Love A Bad Name (Bon Jovi)

New Attitude (Patti LeBelle)

Almost Paradise (Footloose)

Like A Virgin (Madonna)

Another One Bites The Dust (Queen)

Any Way You Want It (Journey)

Hit Me With Your Best Shot (Pat Benatar)

You Don't Have To Be Old To Be Wise (Judas Priest)

Celebration (Kool & The Gang)

Thriller (Micheal Jackson)

Happy 40th Mr. Thompson. We love you...

Friday, March 27, 2009

Xanax Anyone?!

I started bawling in the bathtub tonight. I mean hiccups and all. Ever done that? If it wasn't so pathetic...I would have probably laughed at myself.

Why exactly was I bawling in the bathtub?

Good question. You see...I read Noelle's Ode to New York. That isn't what made me cry, rather it made me smile and laugh out loud. I started crying later...in the bathtub...as I though about all that has happened since I walked off that plane from NYC eleven years ago yesterday.

I thought about Mexico and all the fantastic friends I met...and the unimaginable fun we had during the summer of '99. I miss those times.

I thought about college and how I had such big ambitions for law school.

I thought about all the trouble that Holly, Katie and I got into as we began our careers. I miss those girls...

I thought about going back to NYC. (this is where the first tear trickled down...) Sometimes the whole 9/11 experience seems so surreal...but then reality hits when I think about my client who killed herself because the pain of losing her husband was just too much. I wish I would have picked up on those signs. Could have - would have - should have.

I thought about missing my family so much that I eventually flushed my Emergency Services career down the toilet (or so I thought) by moving back to the west.

I thought about seeing that first dead body tied to the tree as our boat drifted through New Orleans looking for survivors.

And that little girl the Coast Guard dropped to us who looked like she had just survived a war. Since she had been holding her dead mother's hand for 3 days...I guess she had.

I thought about meeting and marrying Mr. Thompson.

I thought about that sweet baby boy we lost a year ago next week.

I thought about what a long - long - long year the last one has been. I swear it feels like a lifetime!

I thought about infertility and how I try not to get my hopes up each month.

Then, I thought about that Xanex the doctor prescribed me when I was in the hospital "just in case"...and dragged myself out of the bathtub in search for it.

That finally put a smile on my face.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Spring Has Sprung

Today I did a happy dance despite waking up to an inch of freshly fallen snow.

Why did I do a happy dance?

Because for the first time in my life....I'm growing tulips!


Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Viva la France!

In case you missed this week's episodes of Dancing With The Stars... here's your weekly serving of Gilles Marini.

You're welcome.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Where Girls Grow Strong


Today I got a bit of sad news. My mom called... to tell me that my Girl Scout Leader died of cancer. That made me sad. She was a good leader. This is what she tried to teach us...

THE GIRL SCOUT PROMISE: On my honor, I will try: To serve God and my country, To help people at all times, And to live by the Girl Scout Law.

THE GIRL SCOUT LAW: I will do my best to be honest and fair, friendly and helpful, considerate and caring, courageous and strong, and responsible for what I say and do, and to respect myself and others, respect authority, use resources wisely, make the world a better place, and be a sister to every Girl Scout.

Unfortunately, the odds were stacked against her. She was also the mother of one of my wildest friends and our troop was full of little hellions. This is what we tried to teach her...

THE GIRL SCOUT GONE WILD PROMISE: On my honor, I will try: to sell cookies to citizens, collect their money, and then eat their cookies...and to get kicked out of girl scout camp for bad behavior in the lake.

THE GIRL SCOUT GONE WILD LAW: I will do my best to freeze unsuspecting cadet's bras and smear Dippity Do on their hair and face while they sleep during "camp outs" in the Catholic church basement, start a fire in the leader's house when she tries to teach us candle-making, and smile pretty in parades even though we were tossing candy that had been unwrapped and licked.

Now I feel kind of bad.

But then I remembered that this same leader was also my High School Counselor...who eventually got even with me when her daughter and I got into some serious trouble during our senior year when my parents were out the country on vacation.

We threw a party at my house and it didn't end well.

Mrs. H found out about it and made me tell my parents. I was grounded until I was 32 but she said I would someday thank her...

I do.

She helped me and my friends grow and eventually learn that there really is honor in living the true Girl Scout Promise and Law. In the end, Girl Scouts Gone Wild...all turned out pretty tame.

For that, I better make a donation to the Girl Scouts in her honor. It seems like the right thing to do.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

No Solicitation

So yesterday....as I was snuggled on the couch with my box of Kleenex, I decided that I was going to be a dutiful wife and fix Mr. Thompson's mistake. You see, he had a bit of a mishap the night before with our front-loading washing machine.

The problem: He overloaded it.

If you have a front-loading washing machine, you know what a problem this can be. It was packed with cloths, full of water, wouldn't drain, and the door was locked. Did I mention it was full of water?

It was.

What exactly does one do when this happens? My theory was that you just open the door and flood the laundry room. The washing machine had other ideas. Did I mention that the door was locked? And it was full of water?

It was.

Bless Mr. Thompson's sweet lil' heart....he tried all night to fix it. He couldn't.

No drain.

So while I was laying there sick and sad....I was struck by a moment of inspiration. Instead of calling Dan the Maytag Man, I was going to fix it myself! After all, I'm not Cliff Wilson's daughter for nothin'...

So I started tearing it apart. In a moment of luck, I found the instruction manual under a panel. The blessed instruction manual included a troubleshooting session.

The Diagnosis: lock it into service mode and run a diagnosis test.

Sounded simple enough. So that's exactly what I did. Did I mention that the instructions were virtually written in Arabic? They were.

But I'm Cliff Wilson's daughter!

After two hours of being Cliff Wilson's daughter... I finally called Mr. Thompson and told him that we needed to call Dan the Maytag Man. He concurred. Matter of fact, he mentioned that he asked me to do that before he left for work. Oops.

So I called Dan the Maytag Man and he was unavailable.

When that doesn't work, what exactly are you suppose to do? Why....you look up Appliance Repair on the Internet of course. So that's exactly what I did.

That's where I found a long list of Mr. Fix-Its. Along with all of the reviews which told me not to call any of them. Including a few for Dan the Maytag Man. Considering, what his customers said I was glad he was unavailable.

So I called Mr. Thompson to ask him what I should do. He told me to figure it out because I wasn't Cliff Wilson's daughter for nothin'.

So I did and selected the one with the best looking photo. It had a handsome man, in clean cloths, standing next to the new Mr. Appliance van. I figured, handsome and clean is good in a Fix it Man.

I called. Mr. Appliance could be there within the hour - would give me a quote before he began service - and would make all my washing machine dreams come true.

4 hours later. I was still waiting. Mr. Appliance was lost.

When he finally arrived, I opened the door and no joke....I was greeted by a man who dramatically threw a floor mat open on my doorstep. I was impressed. Then he walked in my house, handed me his business cards and took booty slippers out of his pocket.

Doubly impressed.

"Where's the problem Mrs. Thompson?"

"Funny your should ask" I replied. "It's upstairs. Full of water. Won't drain."

This is where Mr. Appliance stopped being my friend. You see, he walked upstairs....looked at my washer....picked up the instruction manual....turned it on....

And the damn thing drained!

So I questioned him. What exactly did he do? I swear that Mr. Thompson and I are not crazy nor inept! The thing would not work. Full of water. No drain. For two days.

So I asked him what he thought the problem was. His reply...."how much soap do you put in it?". My reply....."half a cap (meaning half the suggested amount because Mr. Thompson has schooled that into my skull).'

He informed me I'm over filling the washing machine with too much soap. Then he handed me a bill for $68.

As he was picking up his floor mat on his way out, I was tempted to kick him in the butt and off my porch. Instead, I waited 15 minutes and then walked around the neighborhood...carrying my box of Kleenex... picking Mr. Appliance fliers off of unsuspecting doors.

After all, we have an HOA policy against solicitation
.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Weather Whiplash

Cold, cold...go away!
Come again another day.

Am I the only one tired of winter? I've gotten weather whiplash these last few weeks as we've had 60 degree temperatures one day....followed by 30 degrees the next. I'm not sure it we're progressing into spring or quickly digressing back to winter. I sure wish Mother Nature wouldn't be so moody and would make up her mind!

She's playing havoc on my sinuses.

All this weather whiplash has given me a cold. More like a sinus infection. I spent the weekend in bed and here I am Monday morning.... snuggled up on my couch with a box of Kleenex.

I feel like of like those cute little flowers in my flowerbed. They were perked up and pretty just the other day... but are hunched over dead-like today. The cold must have got them.

Maybe I should offer them a Kleenex.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Great Scot

Dear Treadmill,

I would like to offer my sincerest of apologies. You see, I've been been saying a lot of things about you. And they haven't been nice. Because for the longest of time, I've hated you. Really hated you. I know... hate is a strong word but that is how I've felt since you've caused so much pain.

I've thought of you as the Sole...without a soul.

But today I decided that I was going to love you. Because ultimately, you are the one who is going to give me the thing I want the most.

Bagpipe lessons.

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to play the bagpipes. Coming from a long line of musicians hasn't been easy. I was forced to play the piano when I really wanted to play basketball and I was last chair with the flute when I really wanted to play the drums.

That was until I discovered the bagpipes. It was either love em' or hate em' while growing up in in my house. How my father could read the scriptures while blasting Scottish jigs from the CD player at 6:00am, I'll never know.

Going to the pipe competitions in Scotland a few years ago sealed my fate. Mr. Thompson promised me that I could finally take lessons when we returned home.

Then he found out how much bagpipes cost.

One word (that's actually two): a lot

So...back to you. I was complaining about you again the other day. Thinking an incentive might work, Mr. Thompson offered bagpipe lessons since the chocolate donut hanging in front of you isn't working any more. He knows me so well! From that point on, I've only thought of you with the greatest of esteem because you are my ticket to Amazing Grace - the song I am going to play at everyone's funerals.

I swear, if you get me the bagpipes....I'll give you anything you want! I'll happily give all of the blood, sweat, and tears you so greedily ask of me. And I'll do it without another slanderous complaint pound by pound.

Because I'm going to love you.

Your new BFF,

Me

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

New Beginnings


Thanks for moving with us!

I don't mind blog-stalkers with the exception of the unwanted. I didn't want to go "private" because of my own aversion to blog log-ins and I'm crossing my fingers that an address change will be a simple fix for Viva la Vida.

After all....this is where we're living the life!

(I just want to do it without the unwanted.)

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Thank Goodness For Mothers

I've been redeemed this weekend. I mean...seriously redeemed!

My mother came to town and all I can say is thank goodness for mothers! I took Friday off of work for some much needed time together wich we haven't had for a very long time. I really needed my mom.

Without her...I wouldn't have driven up Little Cottonwood Canyon during a snow storm to buy my little brother a birthday present from our favorite place on earth - Alta.

Without her...I wouldn't have attended that all day seminar on family history.

Without her...I wouldn't have stayed awake during that seminar or been inspired to do something with that genealogy book my grandmother bought me years ago.


Without her...I would have had to wait in a very long stand-by line for the Draper Temple Open House. I learned that a wheelchair gets you premium parking and in without a ticket.

Without her...I would have had to go to the cemetery alone.

Without her...I wouldn't have gone to see my dad's sweet uncle who is suffering from Alzheimer's. Something I should do a lot more.

Without her...I wouldn't have got those pillows sewn for my couch with the beautiful fabric I bought last year.

Without her...I wouldn't have learned how to make fresh bread. From scratch. With the yeast that grows.

Without her...I wouldn't have had homemade jam to go with that bread. From berries she picked and squished.

Without her...I wouldn't have redeemed myself by learning how to cook her famous clam chowder...Mr. Thompson's most favorite.

Without her...I wouldn't have been able to redeem myself and prove that the way to a man's heart really is through his stomach.

Thank goodness for mothers. I really love mine.

Friday, March 6, 2009

Meatloaf Surprise

Disclaimer: My mother just looked at this photo and laughed. Mr. Thompson rolled his eyes...



Thanks to many of your recipes and words of encouragement, I decided to make amends to Mr. Thompson and brave the meatloaf. As I was squishing that meat between my fingers (which grossed me out)... I felt like The Little Engine That Could. You can judge for yourself how it turned out.

In Mr. Thompson's words..."it was dry and tasted too much like ginger". Humm....was ginger included in any of those recipes?

I didn't think so.

$50 says I get cooking lessons for my next birthday.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Blog That!

Tonight I made Mr. Thompson mad. He wanted meatloaf for dinner and I...ummm...well...you see... don't exactly know how to cook meatloaf.

Why didn't I ever listen to my mother? She is the world's best cook, following a long tradition of women who can make something, out of nothing, and make it taste good! I'm sure that at one point, she tried to initiate me into the secret world of culinary arts. I'm sure of this because all three of my sisters can make excellent meatloaf.

And homemade bread. The kind from the expanding yeast...

And jam. From their gardens. With berries they pick and squish...

And pie. With delicate, flaky crust...

And their families eat a different gourmet meal each night. From their overflowing recipe boxes.

While Mr. Thompson gets tacos. Loads and loads of tacos. And he even has to cook his own meat because he thinks I ruin it with the taco spice packet. So essentially, I'm good for dicing.

This is what he is currently rantings (real time):

"I want your dad to come live with us! When the time comes...he's coming here with his Dutch Ovens. You blog about that!"

"I'm so fat because I have to resort to McDonald's. Blog that!"

"You got my hopes up about meatloaf (I had inspiration while I was taking a bath and hollered down for him to defrost the hamburger)...and now I have to resort to fried potatoes and 5 pounds of hamburger...because that's what you told me to defrost...for the meatloaf!"

"I don't even have an onion to go with my fried potatoes and hamburger...because you threw them all out! A whole sack of good onions!" (oops - I mistook the grocery sack for the garbage sack. But in my defense, I offered to go dig it out of our dumpsters. I figure that if it worked for the Irish during the potato famine, why can't it work for the Thompson's during the meatloaf famine?!)

"And I had to buy that sack of onions all by myself because you freak out and have a panic attack in grocery stores!"

"I'm telling your dad that if he won't give me a refund...he better get down here and teach you how to cook!"

"Blog that!"

Hummm....does anyone have a easy (foolproof) meatloaf recipe?
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