Tuesday, September 1, 2015

The Taming of the Shrew

So TRQ called yesterday to say she and the Coach had seen the afore-mentioned play.

ME:  What did you think of it?

TRQ:  Well, I did laugh a lot . . .

ME:  But?

TRQ:  Gah.  It made me really uncomfortable.

Not that she really said "gah."  But you get the idea.  And I said to her ODDLY, I JUST SUBMITTED A COLUMN ABOUT THAT VERY THING.

It's right here.  You can see it for yourself!

Monday, August 31, 2015

Summer things

Every summer there are a few little things I like to do.

--Treat myself to Powerade slushes at the Sonic.
--Run barefoot.
--Sleep under the stars in my backyard.
--Ride my bike.
--Sit on my front porch and watch the moon come up over the mountains.

As you can see, they aren't big things.  But if I don't do them, I feel like I haven't had a summer.  I feel cheated.

Anyway, I haven't felt well this summer (not to worry--I'm good), and so my summer things have gone mostly undone.  But summer (un)officially ends with Labor Day, right?  So I have a week.  I have a week of summer left.

Plenty of time for a save.

Sunday, August 30, 2015

Happy birthday, Lisa B.

I don't post very often on Sunday, mostly because I'm usually avoiding contact with my computer on the weekends to avoid WORKING.

But I just wanted to hop on here and give a big shoutout to my friend Lisa B., whom I met when we were mere babies at the BYU.  I first noticed her standing in a line to watch a foreign film where she was talking passionately about something--I can't remember what--and I thought unto myself, "I want her for a friend."

And, lo, my wish was granted.

I feel lucky to know her--am forever awed by her intelligence and generosity and her un-snobby knowledge and consumption of all things popular cultural.  Plus she has great taste in shoes.

Happy birthday, Friend.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Next time I get pulled over by the cops

So Louise and I got pulled over yesterday on our way home.

Well.  Technically speaking, Louise didn't get pulled over.  I did.  Because I was the one, technically speaking, who was driving and who almost took out the cop who was driving in my blind spot when I changed lanes.  Still technically speaking.

Oh, oops!

He pulled me over--as well he should have--but immediately in my head I went oh crap!  Because the last time I got pulled over I couldn't find my registration or proof of insurance because my glove compartment is filled with stuff like coupons and stray pantyhose and so forth.  You would have thought I'd have cleaned out the damn thing since that debacle with the law.

But no.

So, I couldn't find anything again and the officer, who'd just seen his life pass before his eyes, wasn't in the mood for good times with me.  In the end he took my license, ran it, and decided to let me off with a stern lecture about checking blind spots.  ESPECIALLY WHEN POLICE CARS ARE IN MY BLIND SPOT.

I was grateful.  And now I plan to be more cautious.  AND I also plan to clean out that glove compartment so that the next time I get pulled over, I'll be prepared.  Like a girl scout, you know.


Wednesday, August 26, 2015

What to give

I received word yesterday that a friend is dying, so Louise and I went to see him this morning.  I wondered if I should take something.  A letter.  Balloons.  An orchid to brighten his room.  But in the end I took nothing.

When we walked into his room, Louise immediately went to his bedside, took his hand in hers, and stroked his head.  And watching her I thought that in the end, the only thing we can really give is the touch of skin on skin.

We can only give ourselves.


Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Yesterday at the P.O.

So I was standing behind this guy with MAJOR tatt-age going on.  And by major I mean HOLY COW THIS GUY HAS NO SKIN LEFT ON WHICH TO TATT.  (My favorite tatt, btw, was the one behind is left ear that said "Stay golden.")  Yes!  A skin shoutout to Ponyboy!

Anyway, I try not to trade in stereotypes, but if you stood behind a guy with this much going on skin-wise, would you assume that he is a) a freshman at BYU or b) a gangsta?

Fine.  He's probably neither one.  But still.

Well, the man standing in front of my Mr. Tatt was an older gentleman.  A chatty older gentleman who was talking to the guy in front of him about Viet Nam and World War II and possibly various other wars, as well.  When that conversation was over, this gentleman turned to Mr. Tatt and started chatting him up.  Here's what he said.

"My wife and I moved here from North Carolina.  We like Salt Lake City, except there are lots of gangs here."

And I went in my head STOP. TALKING. NOW.

But he didn't.  It was all gangs, gangs, gangs.  Much to his credit, Mr. Tatt was very polite.  His mother would have been proud.  And so was I.

Nicely done, Mr. Tatt!



Monday, August 24, 2015

Sacrament meeting gold

My niece once told me that our ward reminds her of a small quirky town in a place like northern Minnesota.  And we had the kind of meeting yesterday that gives her observation cred.
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So we have this baby-faced, super cute and very innocent 13 year-old boy who was asked to be the youth speaker.  I will say that he surprised us all when he stood up behind the mic and announced that his assigned topic was "chastity."  You could practically hear congregation members whisper "What the hell?"  

Or something like that.

Anyway, without going into too much detail, may I just say you've never LIVED until you've heard a young boy drop the phrase "sexual intimacy" at least seven times over the pulpit in the course of a ten minute talk in church.  

Afterwards our bishop--he was the one was a surprised smile on his face during the entire meeting--told me and Ken Cannon that wires had been crossed and that "chastity" had never been the assigned topic.   

Glad I was there.