Happy Pre-Christmas!

I asked my kids what they wanted for Christmas and Sam said, "I want people to remember Thanksgiving." I was not touched or taken aback by this at all. I'm sick of this notion (but not sick of Sam--it's a new notion to him, and I think it's cute that he "thought of" this on his "own.")

Look, I love Thanksgiving. I'm probably more into food and eating unrestrainedly than anyone else you could name. I'm also thankful for lots of things, including Thanksgiving. But I don't think it takes away from Thanksgiving to be excited about and preparing for Christmas. If you want to put up your tree today--do it. I usually don't get around to decorating until sometime in December--but I am not against it on principal. Christmas too commercial? That's the fun of it. Decorations out too early? Who cares.

Anyway, I'm making some agonizing decisions over here as I make the play list for my ward Christmas party. It's on December 11th. Mind you--still love Thanksgiving! Just planning ahead. My play list is 65 songs and I have to pare it down. Right now I'm deciding between Randy Travis' Jingle Bell Rock and The Ventures' instrumental Jingle Bell Rock. I also have to decide which Elvis Presley songs to cut--like cutting one of my own children. I also have to decide if Happy Christmas (War is Over) is too political for the ward party. I also have three versions of Merry Christmas Baby. This is too many versions of Merry Christmas Baby, I think. How much Pretenders is too much Pretenders? What will happen to me if I cut Nat King Cole entirely? What should the ratio of spiritual songs to secular songs be? Should Motab's O Holy Night end the evening or should I bring it on home with Barenaked Ladies' Auld Lang Syne? Would it be ironic or irreverent to include Weezer's O, Holy Night?

Make suggestions now, before this monster gets too long.

I have to cut this play list by half and I am not at all thankful for that. If only the ward party could last for several more hours. It would be like being in the Celestial Kingdom. I meant that both ironically and irreverently.

I'm Thankful for Thankfulness

I'm thankful that the church is so New York. I'm thankful for Dallin H. Oaks singing from the pulpit. I'm thankful the soundtrack to this Mormon Message sounds like the soundtrack to About a Boy. I'm thankful for 25 cent refills. I'm thankful for BYU. I'm thankful for two turkey dinners every Thanksgiving. I'm thankful for shade. I'm thankful for memory foam. I'm thankful for lunch. I'm thankful for iTunes. I'm thankful for feta. I'm thankful for cardigans. I'm thankful for wipes. I'm thankful for codeine. I'm thankful for sales. I'm thankful for Ross. I'm thankful for blogging. I'm thankful for my sisters. I'm thankful for working moms. I'm thankful for stay at home moms. I'm thankful for good scout leaders. I'm thankful for Oriental Trading Company. I'm thankful Diet Coke is never explicitly mentioned in the Word of Wisdom. I'm thankful for free agency. I'm thankful for people who read this and don't judge. I'm thankful for Elvis Presley. I'm thankful for Neil Diamond. I'm thankful for Barry Manilow. I'm thankful for The Monkees. I'm thankful for working at a record store. I'm thankful for my old ward. I'm thankful for my new ward. I'm thankful for Christian. I'm thankful for Cesar Millan. I'm thankful for Stacy and Clinton. I'm thankful for Gregory House. I'm thankful for Legacy. I'm thankful for my family. I'm thankful for duvets. I'm thankful for Provo High. I'm thankful for the library. I'm thankful for woods. I'm thankful for Tivo. I'm thankful for Jack White. I'm thankful for Michael Jackson. I'm thankful for coziness. I'm thankful for RC Willey. I'm thankful for my mom. I'm thankful for horses. I'm thankful for Stendig calendars. I'm thankful for cilantro. I'm thankful for Mrs. Karlsven. I'm thankful for missionaries. I'm thankful for Gorbon B. Hinckley. I'm thankful for President Monson. I'm thankful for President Obama. I'm thankful for my neighbors. I'm thankful for curbside recycling. I'm thankful for Diary of a Wimpy Kid. I'm thankful for drive through. I'm thankful for quirks.

On Dogs and Uggs

Every day--at least once a day--I look at Frances and think, "I've made a huge mistake."
Most of the time my feelings toward her are neutral and about once a day I have a blissed out doggy-loving moment.

Interestingly, this is exactly how I feel about my new "Uggs."

2012

I just saw the movie 2012. It's kind of big and clumsy and not that great but I'm still intrigued by the concept of catastrophes and the end of the world. I'm also gullible and sentimental about Earth. Most importantly, Amanda Peet is one of my appearance icons. She is my age and has brown hair. I wish she had short hair and were fatter. That would work better for me. She has a baby named Frances who looks like Ellen and I have a dog named Frances who looks like my bed spread.

Frances Gortagh Takes Up Permanent Residence

I haven't updated you on all of my foster dogs because some people say things like, "I saw that it was another dog post so I didn't read it." They have bad manners. I never say, "I saw it was another fake self-aggrandizing post about how perfect your life is so I didn't read it." I keep it to myself. DO NOT TEST MY POLITENESS.

Let me get you up to speed. Remember Dodger who loved only me?
I'm sorry to say he was twice adopted, twice returned, taken to the pound and put to sleep. Dodger had been abused and bit kids. I'm telling you--this dog fostering is not for the faint of heart. In Dodger's case I keep wondering if I could have done more. . . If I could have gotten him out. I don't know. If I just. . . I could have saved him. I didn't do enough. This rawhide chew here. . .

And then there was a mini schnauzer named Fritz. Handsome and well behaved, Fritz had but one tragic flaw: dark red genitals. Fritz, I'm just not that into you. But some old lady was! And they are living happily ever after.

Then we took on one of Satan's minions--a de-barked stray dachshund with a litter of three puppies. We named her Sizzles. After 6 weeks she and her puppies had grown on us--as had the rotten abscesses in her stinky mouth. She was off to the vet as soon as her puppies could be weaned. You know how hard it is for single moms to get good health care--especially dental. She'll be a fine dog for someone soon. And so will her puppies. Interested?

Then I found this dog that matched my bedding so I'm going to keep her.
You knew I'd keep one eventually. Meet Frances Gortagh, a 3 month old liver spotted English Springer Spaniel. Do you love? We do. Her previous owner found out he couldn't have dogs at his cabin. He sold her once, and gave her away once. Each time she was returned because she became so depressed and sad that she wouldn't eat. He was looking for a home where Frances would thrive. So far so good.

I was pretty surprised by the outpouring of love, excitement, good will, and enthusiasm from my kids and from Christian. I mean, you'd think the dog thing would be pretty old by now, right? They all said, "We actually get to keep her?" Parenting tip: Give, take away, give, take away, give, take away, give, take away then give for keeps and make them clean up after it. It's a proven formula for success.

What you might not know is that I had a wonderful black English Springer Spaniel named Lou when Christian and I were married. She came to me the usual way--across country in an airplane. We doted on her for the first four wonderful [childless] years of our marriage. Then we had kids and doted on her only a little less. Her death 8 years ago effected us profoundly and can be summarized thus: sudden, mysterious, exsanguination, the HORRORS.

It was always my wish to one day get a brown Lou. Frances reminds us of Lou in every way. It's uncanny. Christian has loved and wanted to keep almost every dog we've fostered. He even grew fond of the witless Sizzles. So now we have Frances Gortagh.
And just like that I am one Australian Shepherd away from being Dooce. (And a few thousand F words.) (And an apostasy.) (And a million-dollar blog. Whoopsie--Joke's on me. )

My Camera is Working

My camera is working! I plan to spend the next few days getting you up to speed now that I can post pictures. First of all--I grew my hair really long last Spring.
You can see it here at the photo shoot Christian and I did at the Holden Cemetery. As you can see, long hair makes my arms look fat. So I cut it this summer.
Much better!

Ellen also grew her hair out to unruly lengths:And then cut it short:

More photo updates to come.

What the Heck

I saw this in Lillian Vernon. I think she has jumped the shark. I mean ugly crap and old lady treasures are one thing but what the heck?
They are holiday pants treat holders in sets of 6. I have so many questions. What kind of treats go into these pants?
Why would you want 6 of them and not 10? Or 4? I wonder how they decided what constitutes a "set."If I got them for my kids and filled them with candy would I just say, "Go get a candy cane out of Santa's pants!"

Now I've seen everything. Don't buy them.

Staycation Report: Thumbs Up!

I think if you stay in a hotel it is technically not a "stay-cation" but richies who are used to leaving town every weekend won't understand. So I'm trying to be really clear--for all the richies who read my blog. Hi richies! (They're burning money again.) Thanks to everyone who encouraged me on my single-parenting vacation and thanks also to all my blog stalkers who didn't break into my house while I was gone. Even though if you tried you would have been attacked by a de-barked dachshund mother and her litter of three puppies who are staying temporarily in my garage. I'm trying to be really clear to all the blog stalkers out there. Oh hai gyz! Weenerdogz r in mi garage guardin mi stuffs.

Our stay-cation technically started on Thursday with a viewing of Toy Story 1 and 2 in 3D. Then we went to Where the Wild Things Are on Friday. This was an interesting movie about childhood, but not really a kids' movie. My kids liked it but it's kind of boring and full of awkward parts where monsters act like brats. I was talking about the movie with my kids later that night at dinner. It was clear that my 12 year old sort of "got it." That saddened me because I think you have to be a little removed from childhood in order to "get it." At the same time, it was fun to have a conversation with him about it. Do see it. But remember that it's not super appealing for the 2-8 set. My kids thought it should be rated PG-13. (They're prudes.)

After the movie we went to Salt Lake City and checked into our hotel. Here we are taking a picture of ourselves in the mirror on the bathroom door.

We went swimming without incident. And by that I mean that a life guard did not have to save Maggie. The swimming was probably the part I liked least, and it wasn't even that bad. So that's pretty good. Then we went to dinner.
I had the french dip. It was good. They put ketchup in little trays for us. All of the kids drank out of glass goblets--including Ellen. Nothing broke. I figured out the tip in my head. Then we went to Star Wars in concert which was more awesome than I even imagined.

C3P0 was there and narrated the show. It was remarkable. He wore normal clothes--NOT his robot outfit. His posture is impeccable. I posed with the imperial guards. I am the one in front.

Ellen fell soundly asleep at the end and I pretended to sacrifice her to Darth Vader and made Sam take a picture. It was really dumb. But I did it because I am fun and we have fun together. See my backpack? It's full of suckers. When security searched my bag I told them I had candy in there, but I had to spell it out so Ellen wouldn't hear because I wanted to save it for an emergency. I didn't even have to use the c-a-n-d-y. As we left the arena some homeless people played the Star Wars theme on their harmonicas. My kids referred to them as hobos. We didn't give them any money, but we did give a homeless man one of our extra egg McMuffin's earlier that day before the movie because we were full.

These are my wonderful hard-sided suitcases. I always look for them at DI. I am grateful for them and for the stuff in them.
Here's Ben in our posh suite. I'd like to thank the Radisson for putting us up for the night for free in exchange for this mention here on my blog, but I'm not Dooce y'all. So I won't. Cuz I paid.

And there you have it! I did it. I drove. I parked. I paid. I checked in. I carried and swam and did everything. And so can you, unless your kids are younger than mine or less obedient and more prone to mischief and running away from you in crowded arenas. If that's the case than I suggest you stay home for a few years. You aren't missing anything. Don't get me wrong--I had fun. But staying home and watching TV would have been fun too.

One Giant Leap for Momkind

First of all, I really hate that I just said "momkind." But whatever. My kids are on Fall Break. We used to call it UEA and before that we called it "the deer hunt." Since we don't hunt deer per se I decided to take the family to Star Wars in Concert for a "staycation" of sorts. It was going to be so fun. We weren't going to take Ellen so we could go to dinner in Salt Lake and enjoy ourselves with the three older kids. Then I realized Christian would be out of town.

Since I've had kids I don't like to do stuff. It's hard. The logistics of driving, parking, checking into hotels and carrying things is too much for me. Because in addition to all of the aforementioned complicated things I have kids to deal with as well, which (if you're one of Kate Gosselin's nannys) is a full-time job itself. I can do stuff, I just don't want to do stuff. I'm not incapable of packing up kids by myself, finding locations on GoogleMaps, changing lanes, driving the right way on one-way streets, or figuring out tips. It's more of a quality of life issue for me. My quality of life is better when I avoid these things.

But I'm actually excited about this concert. And the tickets were expensive. And I enjoy my kids. This isn't one of those obligatory trips to the zoo or Pumpkinland. I really want to do it. And I think it could possibly-maybe-if-nothing-goes wrong be fun. And yes, I just admitted to being jazzed about Star Wars in Concert after also admitting in a previous post that I ordered a real wand online. (It's awesome! Don't judge me. JEALOUS!)

So tomorrow I'm going to 1) Take my kids (including Ellen) to Where the Wild Things Are. 2) Drive to Salt Lake and check into a hotel across the street from Energy Solutions Arena (I've thought of everything--no late night driving home after the concert or finding a parking space at the venue!) 3) Take my 4 kids swimming by myself. 4) Eat dinner in the big city with my 4 kids. 5) Take my 4 kids to see Star Wars in Concert at 8 pm.

Yep. 8 pm. I know it's a recipe for disaster. . . but let's just see what happens, shall we? I'll be wearing a backpack full of suckers so I might just beat the odds. Wish me luck!

I Never Said it Would be Easy, I Only Said it Would Be Worth It

This year I am helping with my ward's Halloween party so I have an occasion to dress up. I started thinking about costumes in September. Obviously, this is the year to dress up as Michael Jackson. I was leaning toward something a la Smooth Criminal when Dumbledore came to mind--another appropriate costume because his [untimely and heart wrenching] death was commemorated in film this year. Then I realized the most fitting tribute would be to dress as Snape. The key to a good Snape costume, as I understand it, is The Matrix underneath and Graduation on the top.

But--let's be honest--that hair doesn't look good on anyone. Fortunately I am cursed with indiscretion when it comes to flattering Halloween Costumes. (Exhibit A: Hamm from Toy Story costume of pink Hanes sweats and a latex pig nose circa 2001.) So I was willing to brave the hair. But then I found a pair of high-heeled, pointy-toed, lace-up granny boots at DI. Bellatrix Lestrange it is!
Putting my costume together has been quite a journey--and I'm not even finished yet (need leather corset and wig). But I'd like to share a few of the highs and lows.

I found a perfect gown at Halloween USA and some accessories for Ben's Danger Mouse costume. And then my credit card was denied and I couldn't pay for my goods. (It was a mistake and they wouldn't take checks--I swear I'm not poor guys!) I don't know if this has happened to you before--Maybe you were buying milk or formula or even a much-needed winter coat for an unexpected snow storm. But imagine, if you will, just how it feels to leave your eye patch, mouse ears, and polyester witch gown on the counter and walk away in shame. It's like they wanted to rub it in that I'm spending foolishly. And to think, just days before I had been mesmerized in an intersection by Halloween USA's pumpkin-headed mascot. HONK! HONK! This, my friends, was a low.

But I went back with my head held high and I bought all that junk AND MORE! Including the perfect fish-net arm warmers. It was definitely a high, if not a tender mercy.

As I was searching the internet for various costume sundries I found myself on many Wiccan sites. This was kind of a low, but mostly a reality check.

The perfect rosewood wand with a bend in it (Like Bellatrix's) was on sale for 7.99! This is a huge discount, you guys. I don't know how familiar you are with wand prices, but it's like 70% off. HIGH!

Christian seemed apprehensive when he found out I was getting a "real" (his words) wand. High!

I really hate Bellatrix Lestrange. Dressing up as her is kind of a low because I hate what she stands for. She killed Sirius Black, you know. I would prefer to personify someone admirable, but it's just Halloween. That's what I keep telling myself. And when all is said and done [spoiler], we wont' have Bellatrix Lestrange to kick around anymore. If you know what I mean.

I know I'm kind of ruining it by telling you this in advance but since you probably won't be at the Halloween party, I've been studying Spells from Harry Potter so when I'm setting up for the party and we have to find the lights or open a closet I can bust the wand out with lumos or alohomora for some precious nerdlaughs. Prediction: High!

And so you see, Halloween is not all fun and games. You might even think it's a cake walk, because that's what happens at Halloween Carnivals. But it's not that either.

They Broke My Camera and Broke it Again and Broke it Again

I've been remiss in my picture posting. It's bitterness that drives my remission. Why should I document my dear sons and dear daughters when they make the documentation so difficult by breaking my stuff? But in my new capacity as Activities Committee Co-Chair it is my great pleasure to document our ward activities for a slide show at some future point in time. So I pulled out the old broken camera. It's still broken. I'm still mad.

But I did upload some photos from my iPhone which is, apparently, my only camera now. Here's what you've been missing.

Sam with Half Fat Face:

My children do not battle obesity and for that I am glad. I do not laugh at children who do battle obesity. But when Sam's face became mysteriously swollen and rashy this summer it was really funny. Check out that Jay Leno jawline. HAHAHAHAHA.

Ben Posing on Stairs with Strange Cut-Out Props that Showed Up at my House After a Block Party:














Your guess is, strangely, as good as mine concerning the origins of these cut outs. It must be noted, however, that with these three figures you have the makings of every timeless morality tale ever told.

I call this "So Much Better When She's Asleep in a Hamper:"

Some days it's just so much better when she's asleep in a hamper. Blurry photo? Yes well, it's not like I'm working with a Nikon here folks. And if I were, it would be a broken Nikon. Lousy kids! Go sleep in a hamper.

And finally, here's an image that is somewhat freakish and yet alluring at the same time in a "Nerak" sort of way:



















This conglomeration from our costume box has a rich and storied past. Around her neck is a baby blue tennis skirt bought for me by Christian when we were dating, but never worn. Atop that, a tweed peplum--an integral part of my sister's homemade Sherlock Holmes costume circa 1978. Ellen wears the silky pink pantaloons of a genie costume I wore when I was 5, completely unrecognizable to children of the Jasmine era. The wig is from Maggie's Zelda mash-up 2 years ago. The single red glove? An Isotoner. And on her head is a hat given to me by my mother who overestimated my capacity to pull off looks inspired by Diane Keaton. I wore that hat. Without irony. (Sad, isn't it?)

I think Ellen has the skin tone to pull off blond.

I Think I Dreamed this Once

I will see this movie and I will find out, finally, just how much awesome I can take.

I Call the Sitar

Naysayers spurn technology but I say, what's cooler than right now?

Best Collaboration?

Yesterday I was listening to 80s on 8 on the satellite radio in my car. I heard Walk This Way by Run DMC and Aerosmith. "This has to be the best musical collaboration of all time." OK. So I am prone to hyperbole when feeling nostalgic for the 80s, but it is pretty cool--at least I think so.

Usually when I write a music post or pose a question about, for example, the best album title or all-time coolest re-make I've secretly already made up my mind and will never be persuaded. But this time I'm really asking. What do you think? Let's decide this once and for all.

You might think, Ebony and Ivory by Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder. But I thought Paul McCartney's duets with Michael Jackson were a lot more fun. Who doesn't love Say Say Say?(Communists.)

For a collaboration to be the good, there has to be something really satisfying in the pairing. The best is when former enemies come together. The worst is when has-been desperately embraces up-and-comer. The song also has to be good. The quality of the song can outweigh, in my opinion, a lackluster pairing.

Don't Go Breaking My Heart by Elton John and Kiki Dee is pretty quintessential. And what about Moby? Do we need to distinguish between a duet and a collaboration? I don't know. You tell me.

I'm In Parents Magazine

Last year an editor from Parents magazine contacted me and said they wanted me to rewrite one of my blogs for them. What a thrill! It finally came out in this September's Back to School issue. Back to School issue! That's the best and fattest issue. Guys, it's an honor on top of an honor.

Gabby from Design Mom (I know her in real life--Eat your heart out) works with Parents and she's the one who referred them to my blog. What a pal! It is especially sweet that Gabby's first feature article is also in the September issue along with mine. I guess I'll have to think of something else to get Gabby for Christmas, but everyone else on my list is getting a copy of the magazine. Look for it on news stands. I tried to buy it last week but it wasn't out yet. Someone mentioned the article to me on Facebook but I couldn't find it in real life. I was dying. Christian's friend took a picture of his wife's copy of the article with his cell phone and e-mailed it to me. What a pal! This is how I first saw it:

If you read it--and I hope you do--I just want to clarify that #28 was supposed to be "Don't allow the word weenis in your home." But they changed it to wienies. Maybe they had never heard of the word weenis. Well I have. And I don't like it. I have no problem with wienies. I mean, I can take them or leave them. But whatever. Artists like me have to get used to this kind of stuff. I just hope my soul doesn't die from it.

I am working on another article for Parents now. You may recall how I'm obsessed with other people's housekeeping styles and schedules. They've got me trying out four different housekeeping books and reporting on them. For example, one of them is a "green" approach. I don't want to scoop myself, but I will say that I've converted to cleaning with vinegar. That's all I'm going to say.

Ever since Parents published my article I've been a lot less interested in reading magazines. I guess its because if they are written by people like me then I'm not interested anymore. I don't care what I have to say. It's kind of sad because I used to really enjoy magazines. Oh well.

You Could Come Back Next Fall as a Completely Normal Person

It started for me with Mr. Mom--I know it's not quintessential John Hughes, but it was funny and it had kids in it. Besides Kramer vs. Kramer, it's the first movie I remember that had a working mom. My mom worked and much of our lives revolved around my little sister's woobie. Mr. Mom resonated. Plus, drying a baby bum with a hand drier--Like I suppose you've ever seen anything funnier.
Family is always important in John Hughes movies, especially bumbling imperfect ones. That was a big deal to me and to every tween or teen because we all think our families are bumbling and imperfect. For example, I recently heard my daughter speaking of me in hushed tones to her friend explaining that I didn't go to girls camp with the other leaders because I get really bad headaches and can't go. They didn't even need me to go! I didn't stay home because of my headaches. She thinks she has to make excuses for me. Sad. (But, I do get bad migraines so don't ask me to do anything.)

I grew up with all the other John Hughes movies: 16 Candles, Pretty in Pink, Some Kind of Wonderful. We rented those movies but I remember seeing Ferris Bueller's Day Off in the theater. And I had my first post-modern moment when Ferris acknowledged that he was in a movie and we were in the audience and told us to go home after the credits ran. Remember last season when Lost's innovation with narrative blew us away by flashing forward instead of back? It was a little like that. Hughes' characters are the first I remember that were self-aware of that 4th wall--Brian and Duckie sometimes looked right at the camera. We were in on the joke with those geeks. That might be what primed us to accept Bill Gates and is probably why those of us who grew up on John Hughes love Apple so much.

I wouldn't say I grew up poor, but I hated richies. John Hughes taught me that it's ok to hate richies and also to have secret crushes on them and also that richies have feelings too. But most of all John Hughes taught me that some richies are simply jerks.

Before I get stymied by teenage angst, let's move on--as John Hughes did through all the stages of our lives. She's Having a Baby was a really wonderful movie. Who didn't rent it when they were pregnant with their first baby to horrify their husbands and make them love us more?

Guys, I'm as big a fan of the cancer dance on So You Think You Can Dance as the next sucker. But Tyce Diorio took advantage of my feelings for John Hughes. And that I resent.

He sure could throw a soundtrack together, no?

With Six You Get Egg Roll

I am so mad at this lady who sells plates of her so-called "egg rolls" door to door on my street. She seems like this nice Asian mom who is industrious and hard-working. I was excited to buy her wares and try them. She was so demure with her bangs and her black Keds. Is it racist that I assumed she made great egg rolls?

So I bought a plate of her egg rolls last year and they were terrible. They aren't like frozen Ling Ling from Costco at all. They have lima beans in them. Lima beans, green beans, and peas. And sprouts. That's it. We bought them again this year. What a racket. If I wanted to eat a gross salad I would have made one.

Check Out Tony Stark's Shoes

Robert Downey Jr. is 5' 8" 1/2 and Gwyneth Paltrow is 5' 9''. Take a look at his lifts in Iron Man 2. Or maybe he always wears boots like that. It's his right, I suppose. I don't care what he does with his shoes as long as he stays off the drugs.

Here's Something

I am in charge of our ward bulletin for the next two weeks while the woman who regularly does it is out of town. I don't mind doing it. I also don't really want to do it. Such is the gospel. I'm actually kind of dreading it because I have to create the bulletin on the computer with tabs and all the right spacing (will fail) and then take it to Stevensons Genealogy Center (Kinkos=secular) where I will attempt to run off 100 DOUBLE-SIDED (will fail) copies. I also think I'll have to split the page and make it go sideways. I am getting anxious thinking about it. But whatever. Christian will just do it, which is why he volunteered me for it in the first place--so he wouldn't seem like a service hog (which he is).

At any rate, it's no big deal. And yet today several people at church came up to me and said, "Oh! I was so happy to see you are doing the ward bulletin." (There is an announcement about it in today's ward bulletin. You see, these are the kinds of things I will be tracking and publicizing as I work with the bulletin.) I was totally surprised that anyone even knew I was doing it (again--not a big deal). Plus, I'm only doing it for two weeks (even less of a big deal). Which leads me to ask, What's the big deal?

It makes me wonder if people don't know I already have a calling in Young Women. And if they don't know that, maybe they think I have no calling and that I'm inactive. Because "it's so great to see that you are doing the ward bulletin" is kind of something you say to an inactive person. I was lavished today with all the goodwill and encouragement of a woman just come back to church. It was sort of great. I don't care if people think I was inactive. As long as they know I'm active now because of this ward bulletin gig that gets me out to my meetings.

I have a few other fantasy reasons people could be excited about me doing the ward bulletin. Maybe they love my blog and think the ward bulletin will provide a nice forum for my brand of wacky humor. Or maybe everyone is dying to call me to tell me their announcements for the bulletin because they want to announce that I'm great. Or that there is a present drive going on for me. If that were the case, I would put it in bold.

I think "it's so great to see that you'll be doing the ward bulletin" is probably just something to say to make conversation. I've certainly said things like that in order to make conversation. It's basically just an acknowledgment that hey, I saw your name mentioned somewhere and now I'm talking to you and remembering that fact so I'll congratulate you for it because what else am I going to do? And it's why I prefer to conduct all my social interactions via Facebook, where clicking "Like" is enough (and where bulletins make themselves).

As far as making conversation goes, "it's so great to see that you'll be doing the ward bulletin" is fine. But "Holy crap! I LOVE your hair!" is much better. Give me something I can work with, people.

In My Day We Watched Solid Gold and We Liked It

I'm really excited about the unique blog niche I now fill called "when I don't blog about blogging I blog about dogs or TV." Here are my notes from last night's So You Think You Can Dance.

When Janette got sent home I suddenly didn't care about the show anymore because it suddenly became about who America likes best and not about the "best" dancer. I realize this is the point of the show, but aside from having value as a social experiment about the taste of the kind of people who call in to vote, it's disappointing. Notice how dancing with Evan=Kiss of death. I'm just saying.

Wade Robson danced in long pants instead of knickers. Why? To make himself more of a focal point or are those legs of his just too long for knickers? Think about it. Did you know the only movie Wade Robson has downloaded for a while is "The Notebook"? Makes me want to see The Notebook. Is there dancing in that movie? (Keep track of Wade's downloads here. I do.) Wade Robson. Wade Robson. Wade Robson. Wade Robson. So interesting.

Katie Holmes' "dance" was a joke. I'm not sure what's going on there. She seems a little out of it. I hate to criticize anyone's "religion," you know, and Scientology does serve a purpose. The purpose it serves is to provide a front for brainwashing cute girls to marry gay guys. But I digress.

I feel that Brandon and Janine have the best EQ (you know, the emotional counterpart of IQ). They seem the most poised and best able to handle criticism. Kayla seems VERY fragile. Maybe winning would be good for her and teach her to be more professional and tough. But maybe her psyche can't handle the tumultuous world of dance. I don't care who wins as long as it's not Evan. I think Evan is nice and talented. But I hate watching him dance. Admit it--you do too. You feel like you should like it because he's so nice, but if you're being honest with yourself and with me--it is torture. Evan. Evan. Matt Roloff. Evan. So interesting.

If it does come down to Evan in the finale I think in order for him to claim the title of America's favorite dancer he should have to win a dance-off with Elijah Wood. I'm just saying.

I Know I Can't Dance

I'm new and late to the hot tamale train but I have been watching So You Think You Can Dance the last few weeks thanks to my girly girls who are not shy about pausing lifts and rewinding shimmies.

I know people have been blogging/Facebooking/Tweeting about SYTYCD for, what, years now? I know because I have been tuning out whenever I see the letters SYTYCD. But I'm into it now and I have a couple of questions and comments. First of all, can someone explain chemistry to me? What is it? If you are an actor or a dancer and have chemistry with someone, does that mean you are secretly in love with them? Or get along with them really well? What is it? I ask this because I am wondering how being a gay man-dancer affects your chemistry with your hetero-woman dance partner. Are we allowed to talk about this? I guess I'm wondering if an element of chemistry is sexual attraction.

Next, so much depends on choreographers, right? There are the ballroom people who are great (the woman was on What Not to Wear, remember?), and there's Mandy Bore--I mean Moore, there's a bunch of other ones--including the notorious Russian Folk Dance creators who I picture as a sort of goofy version of Boris and Natasha. (Pity, they won't work in THIS town again.) And then there's Wade Robson. Wade Robson is the only one who knows how to make people look cool. He's cool, I guess, but more than that he can make up dance movements that make you look cool. That's a real talent. I think Wade Robson is some kind of genius. I mean, a lot of people say he is and I agree.

You can't talk about Wade without mentioning Michael Jackson--another genius who somehow could figure out which weird movements look cool all together. All the individual moves of Thriller are so strange. Who would have guessed the cumulative effect would be so awesome? Of course Wade was one of Michael Jackson's child proteges, along with Macaulay Culkin. And out of respect for Wade who is fiercely loyal to MJ, no jokes. But he must have learned a lot from him about dancing. Seriously.

I do think Wade is really cool, but there's something about being so obsessed with Michael Jackson that you copy his exact movements and outfits that is a little disarming and maybe just a tinge on the nerdy side of cool. Also, ever see a cool guy move his shoulders that fast? I bet you haven't. Wade pulls it off with aplomb--all 6'4 of him.

I Hanker for a Hunk of [amazing] Cheese

You know how people sometimes describe things as "cheesy"? Not food, but other things like a movie or a smile? Whenever I hear that it gives me pause to think. I never say it because I don't know exactly what it means. I know it means basically the same thing as "corny," but why did people start saying "cheesy"? Does it convey something extra or different? I don't get it. I really just don't get it. I certainly don't mind it if you say it--I want you to say it freely around me. But if you ever hear me say it I am either being fake or have just succumbed to peer pressure.

I also never say "amazing." OK, I rarely say "amazing." Think about it. Every time you hear the word "amazing," it's an exaggeration. For me, using the word "amazing" sparingly is a matter of principle just like not using antibiotics when I don't really need them. The overuse of antibiotics weakens their effect when they are genuinely necessary. Now when I want to refer to something that amazes me it's just not the same because people think, "Oh my gosh! Amazing? That sounds just like Red Mango! Or these flats I'm wearing! Or Gwyneth Paltrow's website! Or, guys--chocolate!"

Until I die I will not have my linguistic integrity removed from me.

*Bored by this post? Yeah, I should have reduced it to a Tweet. Can't win 'em all.

15 Minutes of Fame

Justin Hackworth is a Utah Wedding Photographer who is showing his 30 Strangers exhibit this Thursday in downtown Provo from 6-9pm. You should come because you are invited. Everyone cool is invited.

And to give you an idea of the flavor of the exhibit, it's basically like I'm Edie Sedgwick and Justin Hackworth is Andy Warhol. Basically.
Which would make 1st East Center Street #215 Studio 54, but with less drugs. (I hope--kind of a Molly Mormon, ya'll!)

A lot of people ask, "Kacy, isn't it a lot of pressure to be a muse?" Not really. I like it. Come to the exhibit and meet me. Then sculpt/paint/photograph/write about/collage me.

Some Dogs Like Me, And Some Dogs Don't

Some people think it's boring and stop reading when I post pictures of my pets.

Those people are dumb. I haven't had a foster dog in a while because we took in a litter of kittens for 8 weeks. They are now weaned and ready to be adopted. Cats bug. But what am I gonna do? Not feed and clean up after a mother cat and her five babies for 8 weeks?
Ruthie was the dog we almost adopted permanently. Everyone loved her. I'm not going to lie to you--most of these dogs I foster have issues. Not Ruthie. What I loved best about her was her gigantic human-like head.
Dodger is the dog we are fostering now. Dodger is a Puggle, (Pug+Beagle). I think it must be embarrassing to be a "Puggle." By the way, he doesn't always get to sleep on the bed.
My relationship with Dodger has led me to ask the philosophical question, "Would I just like anybody who likes me?" Because Dodger loves me. It's kind of weird and a little pathological. I like it. Dodger has followed me around since the second I brought him out of the kennel. He would only come out for me--how endearing is that? He just prefers my company over anyone else. What's not to like?

So now I'm thinking about people and what it takes for me to like them. I'm not all that social and don't mind being alone, so I always thought I was very discriminating. But I think maybe I like anyone who likes me. I'm not sure, but I think that might be true. I'm thinking about the people I like and the one thing they have in common is that they like me. Also, the more certain I am that they like me the more I like them. If I don't know for sure that someone likes me, I might wait and reserve judgment. And then if it turns out that they don't like me I'll probaby decide I hate them. Hmm. Interesting. I can't think of a single person that I hate who likes me, except for a few people who think they know me and like me but don't really know me and if they did would hate me.

I will like anyone who likes me, I guess. I'm easy. Especially if they like my blog, in particular.

If you like me, you might like Dodger. You can adopt him on Saturday at the Petsmart in American Fork. Think of all you'll have to talk about! I must admit, that is a conversation I'd love to listen in on.

This Is What Happened Today

Today I went to my son's 6th grade graduation and was surprised to get tears in my eyes during the final slide show. After all, I had been to my daughter's 3rd grade graduation/slide show earlier and remained unmoved throughout.

It's not what you think. I don't care about getting old, having a son old enough to graduate from 6th grade, miss him as a baby, or wonder how and why it has gone by so quickly. In fact, I enjoy aging, think Sam is more fun and interesting the older he gets, don't care for babies, and it actually seems like a long time ago that he was born.

But remember how awesome 6th grade is? How you "rule the school"? In the slide show kids were dancing funny, wearing cool clothes, laughing, and generally acting like the teenagers they are about to become. They have no idea what's ahead of them. Jr. high isn't all that bad, but there's certainly no playgrounds there. Those kids struck me as wonderfully naive. And every year from here on out they will get less and less and less naive. It's sad. But they're excited and it will be OK.

After my reverie we were out to the parking lot to load up and go home. Ben, my 6 year old, bumped the car next to us with his door. Yes, yes, I know this is horrible. The owner of the car was going nuts with anxiety and hand signals to me trying to convey what happened. Dude! I know what happened. It happens all the time, like every day--either to me or because of me.

So I go over to the lady's window to deal with the incident, as I'm sure she will always remember it. There was a little white mark which I wiped off with my finger and no dent. But I don't shirk responsibility so I said sorry and all that and asked her nicely (I mean, I'm a jerk--but I'm a two-faced jerk) what she wanted me to do because she just really seemed like she wanted me to do something, besides wiping it off with my sweat finger. And yet, there was no further repair work to be done. She was frustrated. I can't say I blame her. Kids are frustrating. She finally exclaimed, "Well just tell him to be more careful!"

So, is what I'm going to do is: First--Tell Ben to be more careful. Second--Sit back and enjoy how wonderful everything is going to be after I tell him to be more careful.

And I spent the rest of the day opening otter pops. So there you have it.