Log Haven Night

Originally uploaded by benevolentdictator

The MOD and I went out last Friday night to a restaurant that had no chicken fingers nor grilled cheese on the menu. Its a beautiful place built into the side of a mountain up Mill Creek Canyon here in Salt Lake City. It was lovely all around from the views to the wine to the creme brulee.

Light posting this week and last due to the tying up of a variety of loose strings.

Yes, I used to be you.

Wondering why women, who were at least ten years older than me, were shopping in MY store. So, when you rolled your eyes at me during your attempt to buy at least ten items of clothing at Banana Republic while chatting on your cell phone and cruising for accessories by the check out counter, I took one look at your coiffed hair and perfect French pedicure and remembered what its like to be twenty-two.

Yes, its true. I ran out to shop the sale during the kids’ nap time and before we all headed out to the pool for the afternoon. Therefore, I did not have time to refresh my (at least) month old pedicure and, alas, I did leave my three inch stilettos at home. In fact, I looked down and realized that I had forgotten to leave my dirty old black slides at home in favor of some footwear that hadn’t seen my garden recently. I sadly had not coordinated my sunglasses to match my outfit either.

But, cheers to you for managing at least five bags, a huge purse, and those extremely high heels- you’re a star! In full disclosure, I loved your shoes. With the whole three kid thing going on my life (this doesn’t look to change anytime soon), I’m just lucky that I got to shop without a stroller. I hope that one day that you get as much satisfaction from heading to The Children’s Place as you do at Bebe.

In the meantime, next time you see at thirty something extremely harried lady at Banana Republic, please move your big ass bag over and direct your eye rolling to someone who deserves it.  By the way, please let me know if I can borrow those shoes as they would go lovely with the new, clever shirt I just purchased.

My Thanks,

The BD

Thanks to bejewell for the inspiration!

Change the name to “the BD” and day to “five weeks” and there we go.

I keep thinking something (anything… an earthquake? Ed McMahon on my doorstep with a big check?…but I hear he has his own issues…anyway) will shake me out of this nasty mood I’ve been pretty much since ear surgeries and ensuing convalescing. That, of course, was followed up by two weeks with a hovering but well intentioned mother-in-law, the end of school for the Bear, rainy weather (heelllloooooo, Utah? Yes, its summer calling), and the fact due to the above convalescing I SUCK at running and can barely eek out a four miler much less a 10 mile I-SO-ROCK-WHEN-I-LISTEN-TO-THE-FOO-FIGHTERS-AWESOME-RUN.

Perhaps I should have gotten off my butt a few weeks ago instead of sitting around, eating ice cream, and contemplating the VERY clever lyrics to “Hey Ya” by OutKast. DON’T EVEN try to convince me that they aren’t superb, by the way. ALLRIGHT ALLRIGHT ALLRIGHT ALLRIGHT ALLRIGHT ALLRIGHT ALLRIGHT.

But, its been a hard month around this house and my frustration has been palatable. Engaging in such activities like holding on to a crying baby while blowing up water wings which are already attached to an impatient toddler is as futile as trying to explain to said mother-in-law why I don’t own a sewing machine or how come I don’t bake for recreation. I’ve engaged in these and a host of other unpleasurable things (including bathing suit shopping*) lately which have stressed me out completely freaked me out and possibly have caused others to want to commit me to the local sanitarium. If such places still existed.

Typically, I would get my groove on and my anxiety out by stepping it up at the gym. But, wouldn’t you know that my membership expired last week. Interesting, the timing on that one.

*Okay, is there anything more DEGRADING to the middle class, 30 something female than bathing suit shopping? Not to neglect the issues of war and starving children, etc. BUT, how can I possibly purchase something that costs a small fortune and manages to highlight all of one’s flaws in nasty yellow dressing room light? WTF-ever. I ditched all the suits in the fitting room and came home and ordered online. Now, I have until it arrives to pretend that I will be Absolutely Fabulous at the pool this summer.

We all have them, I suppose.

Those friends, who at one time, were so special to us that we talked to, hung out, or otherwise acknowledged each other Every Day. Texting wasn’t en vogue then, but…

Because, at that time, we couldn’t imagine not. During those days, it was unimaginable that a day could pass without a chat, a drink, a shopping trip, or a phone call. We were part of each other’s routine; a call before bedtime, a chat before work, who all’s going out tonight, what’s up for the weekend.

But, one day passed and there wasn’t a call. Two days without contact. And, then, a week, a month, a year. Why? A thousand reasons. Some good, maybe, others not. But, if I had to say, they were mostly not good reasons.

The next thing I realized is that it had been ten years almost. Sure, in the past few years, there has been an occasional email. A phone call or two. But, otherwise a friendship lost. And, I do not know what to make of it. It makes me sad and confused. Did I not hold up my end of the friendship? Perhaps I had been too selfish, too opinionated, too rigid.

I just wonder as I contemplate my own issues around this subject and wonder how things might be different- if they feel the same. That something in their life may be better if our friendship had weathered changes and time differently. Or if they feel if something is lacking because our friendship, for the most part, is gone.

They didn’t get to see my children as babies and if, in their opinion, I have been a good person for the past ten years. I missed out on the details that have taken them from an early twenty something to a thirty something, a real grown up.

I just wonder if our friendship would be relevant in present time. If I would find that we would still have that connection over coffee and Grey’s Anatomy and running instead of bar hopping and road trips.

I’m pretty sure that Sandy, Utah isn’t ready for Chanel and Manolo Blahniks at the grocery store. But I am.

I saw Sex and the City last night. Prepare for the gushing.

In my mind, it was the best movie that I’ve seen in a long time. Of course, it’s literally been years since I have seen anything but animated flicks at the theater. It may not win any Oscars, but who cares? It actually might- for costume design- the clothes, other than a few outfits that included tall argyle socks, were FAN-TAS-TIC. It was fun to watch and that’s what I needed on Monday night.

Maybe it’s the funk that I’ve been in or something, but I was so happy to see our favorite NYC girls again and the clothes and the shoes and the cosmos, straight up. It was all I could do to not jump through the screen and sit down with SJP and friends for cocktails.

In full disclosure, I was an extreme latecomer to the SATC scene. While it was on, I was in college and then grad school. When I wasn’t working or studying, I was living my own version. Think Knoxville, TN instead of NYC and Nine West instead of Manolos and you’ve got it. Later on, I was married with a baby. So, I caught up thanks to Blockbuster and TBS.

The movie was hilarious, lewd, and sweet. And, I also decided that next time someone is rude in a public setting that I am going to call him a Dickwad a la Samantha. I probably won’t, but Samantha got her point across in her own way. And, the other three girls did too- doing something that the Bee and I often talk about. Being Your Own Girl.

Being Your Own Girl involves thinking for yourself and doing your own thing. Not buying into mom guilt and dumb trends and people that try to make you feel inadequate. Which is how I’ve been feeling lately. This movie was exactly what I needed to feel a little better, and the only thing that could have made it better would have been to have all my best friends with me and an adult beverage to sip on.

In the meantime, I’m thinking that some nice handmade Italian shoes would help me feel even better.

Sorry to tell you if you reached this from the economics tag that you might want to keep on surfing past this post since its link to economics is weak at best. This is not an entry that I would classify as anything close to highbrow.

Who are the people that ring the closing bell on Wall Street at the end of each day? I tried to google it to see if there was any kind of rhyme or reason to it, but the groups seem to range from companies offering an IPO to students to people trying to promote a cause.

It seems that the group is expected to smile and clap and perhaps look a little like the royal family family does when they appear on the balcony of Buckingham Palace.

It would be great if the day that I was going that stocks went sky high. It would be easy to get up there, ring that closing bell, and just for a tiny second think that somehow that me being here had something to do with the flourishing economy and, yeah, I rock. (Just for the record, the last time that I took economics was in high school. The teacher was the boys basketball coach. Enough said.)

Of course, these days the news from Wall Street is continually bleak. The clappers at the closing bell seem to have the smile and the clap that looks like it belongs at a wedding reception when the newlyweds dance their first dance. But, their eyes look a bit strained kind of like they want people to know that, no, they are not responsible for the hundred point loss today and they’re just there because they graduated magna cum laude from Princeton and that they too will have to pay $70 to fill up their vehicle on the way home.

Maybe there’s some kind of New York Stock Exchange closing bell prepper that reminds them that even though people’s 401(k)s are sliding into the toilet YOU HAVE TO SMILE.

Just a random thought that has been percolating in my head for a while.

UPDATE: I posted this morning before the NYSE dropped 412 points today so it was just a random coincidence.  But, just for a bit of morbid fun, I watched the closing bell.  Sure enough, there was a group of older and well coiffed people enthusiastically clapping away.  Either their portfolios are heavily invested in the oil industries or maybe they had martinis at lunch.

As a little girl, one of my favorite books was a book that actually lived at my grandparents’ house. Its called “Happiness Is A Warm Puppy” and on each page it features the Peanuts characters demonstrating something that makes them happy. Its totally old school, obviously- one of the pages shows one of the lesser known of Charlie Brown’s friends paying for a movie and snack with a total of about $.50. Those days are long past and way before my time.

But, I loved that book and my grandfather, Pop Mould, used to read it to me. A few years ago, I saw a big table at Barnes & Noble full of shiny new copies of the book so I bought a bunch of them for my kids and nephew. It’s pretty hard to explain to a seven year old what a key has to do with roller skating, but the lessons remain the same. Happiness IS three friends in a sandbox with no fighting.

But, if I had to make a list, this is what it would look like:

Happiness is the first day of vacation with a whole week to look forward to.

Happiness is all the laundry- clean, folded, and put up.

Happiness is an un-ruined pedicure.

Happiness is a good bottle of wine, a friend to chat with, and a sunny patio.

Happiness is three children freshly bathed.

Happiness is finding money that you forgot about in your jeans pocket.

Happiness is an email from an old friend unexpectedly arriving in your inbox.

Happiness is being relaxed amongst friends and family.

Happiness is finding a liquor store in Utah.

Happiness is a phone call from your spouse saying that they’ll be home early today.

Happiness is a long day at the beach.

Happiness is a long run when you feel like you rocked it.

What else?

Seriously, I took this word out of my lexicon for a long while. Years.

But, its back and couldn’t be better timed because there are SO MANY TOOLS OUT THERE. ALL OVER. On the street where you live and probably in a cube near yours too.

Its descriptive, to the point, and there’s no mistaking exactly what you’re getting at when you try to explain “tool” to describe sheer idiot-icy.

Back in March, I wrote about a guy that was trying to use his big old SUV to cut in the line of skier traffic going up the canyon road one crowded morning. After his ungallant methods were rewarded by a place in the line, pent up skier angst prevailed with a sort of righteous vigilante justice in the form of a snowball attack.

However, as it all turns out- the MOD knows the driver. He is now referred to only as the “The Tool” around the house and this has caught on over at the MOD’s place of employment as well, which I like.

Really, “asshole” is too strong. He didn’t physically hurt anyone or cheat someone out of money. He is just a tool and that is sad enough. Just like the Eagles sang, this guy’ll probably just have to eat his lunch all by himself.

This will be the entry where I sound like an old person, spouting off about ailments and what not. But, really, I just need to document all of this on the real off limit chance that I will ever want to remember the past week and a half.  Also, be ready for sudden tangents on the general good fortune of good health. 

All through the various filters of steroids and painkillers and valium, too.

Are you excited to read this yet?

Three years ago, I started losing my hearing.  After checking for the normal causes of hearing loss (read MRIs for brain tumors) as well as changing doctors, we figured out last summer that I had a condition called otosclerosis which was causing the bones in the right ear to harden and making sound unable to conduct through my ear.  The good thing about it is that it is correctable.  But, last summer, I had a new baby who I was nursing and ski season was going to start, etc. etc. 

Finally, this spring…I ran my half marathon, went to Vegas, and decided that I was ready to join the hearing people of the world so I scheduled the procedure.  It was supposed to be easy.  It sounds weird.  They actually take out one of three tiny bones and replace it with a titanium piece that will let you hear.  In and out.  One day surgery, with a few days of dizziness to be followed.  I was nervous, but not terribly.

The procedure was on May 9 and was supposed to last two hours maximum. 

When I woke up, it was four hours later.  Apparently, the laser that they need to get down to the bone normally works with seven passes.  They used it somewhere between forty-five and fifty times on me.  Bonehead, indeed. 

I was actually okay for the next day, mostly.  I was unable to walk on my own nor turn my head due to dizziness, but I could eat and sleep. 

Hell started the next day when I had the very specific experience of being on the Scrambler, the Tea Cups, and a roller coaster all at the same time and without even leaving my bed.  I won’t talk about the lack of being able to eat properly or keeping food where it belongs.

The next day, with patched together at the last moment child care, the MOD got me down the steps, into the car and pulled up at the ambulance bay at the nearest emergency room.  They hooked me up to all kinds of IVs and started filling me up with lots of different drugs and fluids and all kinds of stuff. 

Really, the rest of it isn’t that interesting aside from watching the inner goings on of a hospital for three days.  The medical situation was acute in terms of the gamut of health situations.  I am healthy and will be back to my old self in (relatively, not as soon as I would like it to be) short order.  They actually had to redo part of the surgery and my doctor told me that during the second surgery he had to consult the medical literature because my case was so difficult.  And, its not like I had cancer or anything even close.

But, the rest of it is weird.  One moment, I was in tip top cardio shape.  Now, I’ve still got the hallmarks of IV bruises all over both arms.  I have a kitchen counter full of prescription vials and taste buds that taste metallic regardless of what I eat due to nerve trauma.  Yum.  I’m able to spontaneously fall asleep in the middle of the day for hours and lay around for the other ten or so.  Its a pretty regimented life of surfing the internet, sleeping, and being generally sloppy. 

I’m not supposed to be picking up anything more than 15 pounds so handling a one year old and a three year old is a challenge.  We are lucky that we have had good friends, neighbors, and family who have flown across the country, brought us dinner, watched our children, and done the carpool line for us.  At a moment’s notice. 

Thanks to Jessica, for helping me out with a link to dooce’s appearance on yesterday’s Today show.

I think that I love Heather even more than I did before. She’s cute, and that’s not a word that I would have thought to use to describe her.

Having read her blog for a number of years now, she seems to describe herself in prickly terms. Of course, she was all TV ready, but still. She has just a trace of that Tennessee accent left over, and being out here in Utah, I miss it (so much so that much to the MOD’s chagrin, I will talk to any stranger wearing an SEC T-Shirt or with any hint of any accent below the Mason-Dixon line.)

Anyway, Heather came off as warm and interesting, and I think that I love her.

Heather, if you’re out there, I’ll still buy you that drink!