Alright, I tried to win tickets to the MC Hammer Vanilla Ice Dance Party again. It was tonight on our way up to our "Evening with a General Authority".
Here's the scene---Jon and I have our very drab and conservative church clothes on and are flying down the road in the van bus. The kids are locked and loaded in there with us. Eliza is complaining about her situation strapped in the seat. Simon is telling Jon how I was laughing when we danced in the kitchen today and then I hear over the radio caller 10 can win tickets to the concert.
I pull out my phone and Jon whips out his lucky phone and I'm dialing on both phones until I finally get through (on Jon's phone) and I'm caller 10! Only now I find out the DJ is taking two other callers and will be asking us trivia questions about MC and Vanilla's personal lives. Nice.
I'll spare you the tragic details but I will tell you this: I didn't know a single answer and I won no tickets. But I still love the moment of trying---all of us in the mini van (full of kids, crumbs, and crayons) driving through Lehi, Utah trying to win tickets to a concert that would only be cool if it was 1989 again. I think it's my official moment of jumping the shark. If I was ever cool, I am cool no longer.
Oh well, you still can't touch this.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Another Rule For Jon
I have some rules that Jon has to follow if he wants to remain alive. These rules have come about from unfortunate experiences in our marriage. For example, and at the top my list, is that Jon CAN NOT EVER under any circumstances get Simon a haircut. Long story but a good rule. On his ever growing list I've just added yet another rule.
Jon can not buy Simon shoes. Yesterday he took Simon to Wal-Mart and Simon came back sporting a pair of rainbow, Velcro, Yo Gabba Gabba tennis shoes. They have plastic windows with all the characters waving out at me. All of them---Muno, Plex, Foofa, Toodee, and Brobee! Does Simon really need someone named Foofa riding around on his feet? The only good thing I can say about the shoes is thank goodness the designers ran out of room for DJ Lance Rock.
Seriously, no more shoes for Simon from Jon.
Jon can not buy Simon shoes. Yesterday he took Simon to Wal-Mart and Simon came back sporting a pair of rainbow, Velcro, Yo Gabba Gabba tennis shoes. They have plastic windows with all the characters waving out at me. All of them---Muno, Plex, Foofa, Toodee, and Brobee! Does Simon really need someone named Foofa riding around on his feet? The only good thing I can say about the shoes is thank goodness the designers ran out of room for DJ Lance Rock.
Seriously, no more shoes for Simon from Jon.
Confessions of a Hammeraholic
So Mc Hammer and Vanilla Ice are having a "Dance Party" concert at UVU this weekend and I've totally been trying to win tickets. I almost had them the other day. First they played a clip of a Hammer song. Next you had to be the 10th caller and then correctly rap the next two lines of the song.
I wasn't the 10th caller I was actually the 16th but the people before me obviously aren't as knowledgeable in the ways of Hammer and didn't know the next line...BUT I DID! I busted a move on live radio only to be told I missed the lyrics by ONE word! My chances were foiled. Several callers later a dude who admitted to googling the lyrics won the tickets. Lousy computer jerk. I bet he didn't even ever own a pair of parachute pants.
SO now instead of being to legit to quit I'll have to STOP! Collaborate and Listen at the Tabernacle with Jon at his Evening with a General Authority.
Until Later...You Can't Touch This!
I wasn't the 10th caller I was actually the 16th but the people before me obviously aren't as knowledgeable in the ways of Hammer and didn't know the next line...BUT I DID! I busted a move on live radio only to be told I missed the lyrics by ONE word! My chances were foiled. Several callers later a dude who admitted to googling the lyrics won the tickets. Lousy computer jerk. I bet he didn't even ever own a pair of parachute pants.
SO now instead of being to legit to quit I'll have to STOP! Collaborate and Listen at the Tabernacle with Jon at his Evening with a General Authority.
Until Later...You Can't Touch This!
Unanswered Prayers
Before leaving the house we always say a prayer for safety. Simon likes to pray and is the one who usually says the prayers. The other morning he prayed that we would be safe and that mom would let him sit in the back of the van bus so he wouldn't have to ride in his car seat.
Unfortunately that prayer went unanswered.
Unfortunately that prayer went unanswered.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Jon vs. Monet
So Jon had never been to a museum before we were married. On one of our first anniversary's we went to the Guggenheim extension in Las Vegas.
We walked around for awhile. Sometimes together, sometimes alone. I was loving it. We saw works by Lichtenstein, Rembrandt, Cezanne, and Monet. I found Jon alone studying a Monet. "Wow," I thought, "he must really be into this."
I walked over and asked him what he was thinking. He said, "That is a really nice frame."
We walked around for awhile. Sometimes together, sometimes alone. I was loving it. We saw works by Lichtenstein, Rembrandt, Cezanne, and Monet. I found Jon alone studying a Monet. "Wow," I thought, "he must really be into this."
I walked over and asked him what he was thinking. He said, "That is a really nice frame."
There is A Cat on My Head
When we moved here there were mice and voles everywhere so I needed a cat. But, I'm weird about things and didn't want to buy a pet at a pet store. I felt like I needed to adopt one from a shelter. I spent awhile looking around for just the right adoptee---the perfect addition to our family. And I finally found one. A cute little black and white long hair kitten. She was beautiful.
Simon and I went one afternoon to adopt her and bring her home. I was so excited. When we got to the place they put us in this tiny 5'x5' room with a carpeted bench covered in hair and left us with the kitten to fill out the paper work. At this point I should tell you I'm ridiculously allergic to cats. So within minutes my eyes start to swell and water. By the time I was finished with the paper work full on hives are popping up on my arms and my throat is closing up.
But, I finished then I went with some nice high school boy who helped my gather up some items I needed and walked me out to the car. For some reason I had assumed that when you get a pet they put it in some sort of happy meal like container for you to take it home in. I was wrong. The kid dropped the food on the ground handed me the cat and told me to have a good day. Now I was standing in a parking lot alone with a two year old, a 50 pound bag of cat food, and one freaked out kitten.
Somehow I managed to get the food and Simon loaded and buckled without loosing the kitten. I was proud, I was super mom and we were on our way home. I decided to just hold the cat on my lap driving home. I figured that way Simon wouldn't fight with her and she wouldn't wind up on the floor under the pedals. Looking back I question that decision. We pull out of the parking lot and into traffic when kitty goes mental. Meowing...peeing...clawing...whatever...next she's on my shirt and I'm going 45 down a busy road fighting a kitten. Before I can stop her she's on my head. THE CAT IS ON TOP OF MY HEAD! I am driving a car with a cat standing on my head.
When I say on my head I mean literally on top of my head. And then she hunkered in. Oh, I was trying to pull that sucker off but she wasn't moving. Her claws were embedded in my scalp. As I'm struggling I pull up to a stop light. I'm yanking on the cat, Simon is screaming and then I notice the ladies in the car next to me are staring at me in utter confusion. Kitty has removed her front claws from my brain and has lodged them in the headrest. With a mighty pull I detach the kitten from above and hold her next to the steering wheel with my left hand. The light turns green and I gun it. Did I mention that my car is a stick shift and that I'm shifting during all of this?
I was a long drive but finally we get home. I put the cat in the garage and shut the door. I put Simon in front of the TV. I walk across the street to neighbors I hardly knew for help.
Now picture this if you will: my eyes are running and almost completely swollen shut, snot is flowing uncontrollably from both nostrils, my chest, neck, face, and arms are covered in scratches that are swelling and what skin that is left unscratched is bursting with angry red hives. I'm sneezing and coughing and I ring the doorbell. The sweet 14 year old boy answers the door. "Oh, Sister Evans," he says, "you need help. My mom's not home, but I'll get my sisters."
I walked back across the street with two of his sisters that made the cat a bed then gave her food, water and love. They stayed all afternoon and were darling. At this point I wish I could tell you that after a shower and some allergy medication it was all love and joy. However, as with most things I plan it didn't turn out how I'd envisioned it.
Kitty became ill. We called the shelter, kitty had tested positive for every animal illness known to man. We loaded her in a box and Jon drove her to Payson to meet the shelter's vet. She died later that evening.
That being said, I don't want you to think this story ends on a sad note. Kitty was going to die. I just didn't know that. But I like to think that before she did she became part of a family, went on the ride of her life and then spent an afternoon with two adorable girls who gave her tons of love and affection. Plus she gave me something to laugh about---every time I get into the car I see her claw prints on my head rest.
That's better than spending your last hours in some stinking shelter any day.
Simon and I went one afternoon to adopt her and bring her home. I was so excited. When we got to the place they put us in this tiny 5'x5' room with a carpeted bench covered in hair and left us with the kitten to fill out the paper work. At this point I should tell you I'm ridiculously allergic to cats. So within minutes my eyes start to swell and water. By the time I was finished with the paper work full on hives are popping up on my arms and my throat is closing up.
But, I finished then I went with some nice high school boy who helped my gather up some items I needed and walked me out to the car. For some reason I had assumed that when you get a pet they put it in some sort of happy meal like container for you to take it home in. I was wrong. The kid dropped the food on the ground handed me the cat and told me to have a good day. Now I was standing in a parking lot alone with a two year old, a 50 pound bag of cat food, and one freaked out kitten.
Somehow I managed to get the food and Simon loaded and buckled without loosing the kitten. I was proud, I was super mom and we were on our way home. I decided to just hold the cat on my lap driving home. I figured that way Simon wouldn't fight with her and she wouldn't wind up on the floor under the pedals. Looking back I question that decision. We pull out of the parking lot and into traffic when kitty goes mental. Meowing...peeing...clawing...whatever...next she's on my shirt and I'm going 45 down a busy road fighting a kitten. Before I can stop her she's on my head. THE CAT IS ON TOP OF MY HEAD! I am driving a car with a cat standing on my head.
When I say on my head I mean literally on top of my head. And then she hunkered in. Oh, I was trying to pull that sucker off but she wasn't moving. Her claws were embedded in my scalp. As I'm struggling I pull up to a stop light. I'm yanking on the cat, Simon is screaming and then I notice the ladies in the car next to me are staring at me in utter confusion. Kitty has removed her front claws from my brain and has lodged them in the headrest. With a mighty pull I detach the kitten from above and hold her next to the steering wheel with my left hand. The light turns green and I gun it. Did I mention that my car is a stick shift and that I'm shifting during all of this?
I was a long drive but finally we get home. I put the cat in the garage and shut the door. I put Simon in front of the TV. I walk across the street to neighbors I hardly knew for help.
Now picture this if you will: my eyes are running and almost completely swollen shut, snot is flowing uncontrollably from both nostrils, my chest, neck, face, and arms are covered in scratches that are swelling and what skin that is left unscratched is bursting with angry red hives. I'm sneezing and coughing and I ring the doorbell. The sweet 14 year old boy answers the door. "Oh, Sister Evans," he says, "you need help. My mom's not home, but I'll get my sisters."
I walked back across the street with two of his sisters that made the cat a bed then gave her food, water and love. They stayed all afternoon and were darling. At this point I wish I could tell you that after a shower and some allergy medication it was all love and joy. However, as with most things I plan it didn't turn out how I'd envisioned it.
Kitty became ill. We called the shelter, kitty had tested positive for every animal illness known to man. We loaded her in a box and Jon drove her to Payson to meet the shelter's vet. She died later that evening.
That being said, I don't want you to think this story ends on a sad note. Kitty was going to die. I just didn't know that. But I like to think that before she did she became part of a family, went on the ride of her life and then spent an afternoon with two adorable girls who gave her tons of love and affection. Plus she gave me something to laugh about---every time I get into the car I see her claw prints on my head rest.
That's better than spending your last hours in some stinking shelter any day.
A Brief History of Cats
A friend of mine was blogging the other day about how she hates people blogging about their pets so I thought "Hey! I should blog about my pets!"
It all started 3 years ago when we moved here. I saw mice everywhere and I hate them. After much debate Jon agreed to get a cat. After a harrowing experience (that I'll talk about next in my "There's A Cat on My Head" entry) I was the proud owner of a kitten. She lived with us for about 6 hours before becoming ill and dying later that night.
Our next cats were Bill S. Preston Esquire and Ted Theodore Logan. They came from my uncle's ranch. They were excellent. However, one morning we discovered that Ted was gone and we haven't seen him since. He doesn't call, he doesn't write...actually, I think he knew what we didn't...that my uncle, my uncle who promised me that both the cats were male, is full of crap. With in a few weeks of Ted's disappearance Bill delivered 6 kittens in my garage.
I promptly hired some neighbor girls to give them away in the parking lot of a local grocery store. We gave them all away but one...Eddie Van Halen...the cat from Hell.
Oh sure, Eddie was a cute kitten and then an amazing mouser but he liked to attack things. At first it was funny---other cats, birds, the neighbors Boxer---but before long Simon and I were trapped in the house. If we went in the yard that thing was hissing and scratching and clawing.
Normally I could make him keep his distance until one day. I was unloading the kids from the van bus when Eddie decided the driveway was his. He was hissing and spitting and wouldn't move. I ignored him and carried Simon, who was freaking out, into the house and then came back for eliza. On my way back I couldn't see him until I was almost to the van. At that point he materialized out of thin air, jumped on my leg and tried to tear me to pieces. Luckily I had my Dr. Pepper mug with me and I dowsed that thing with an ice cold beverage. Soaking wet I retrieved my baby. By the end of the week Van Halen was gone. (His where abouts are another story.)
So now we just have Bill. She is our one and only pet. And because she has been surgically altered she will lead out the remainder of her barren life in our yard trying to avoid the neighbor kids who love her.
It all started 3 years ago when we moved here. I saw mice everywhere and I hate them. After much debate Jon agreed to get a cat. After a harrowing experience (that I'll talk about next in my "There's A Cat on My Head" entry) I was the proud owner of a kitten. She lived with us for about 6 hours before becoming ill and dying later that night.
Our next cats were Bill S. Preston Esquire and Ted Theodore Logan. They came from my uncle's ranch. They were excellent. However, one morning we discovered that Ted was gone and we haven't seen him since. He doesn't call, he doesn't write...actually, I think he knew what we didn't...that my uncle, my uncle who promised me that both the cats were male, is full of crap. With in a few weeks of Ted's disappearance Bill delivered 6 kittens in my garage.
I promptly hired some neighbor girls to give them away in the parking lot of a local grocery store. We gave them all away but one...Eddie Van Halen...the cat from Hell.
Oh sure, Eddie was a cute kitten and then an amazing mouser but he liked to attack things. At first it was funny---other cats, birds, the neighbors Boxer---but before long Simon and I were trapped in the house. If we went in the yard that thing was hissing and scratching and clawing.
Normally I could make him keep his distance until one day. I was unloading the kids from the van bus when Eddie decided the driveway was his. He was hissing and spitting and wouldn't move. I ignored him and carried Simon, who was freaking out, into the house and then came back for eliza. On my way back I couldn't see him until I was almost to the van. At that point he materialized out of thin air, jumped on my leg and tried to tear me to pieces. Luckily I had my Dr. Pepper mug with me and I dowsed that thing with an ice cold beverage. Soaking wet I retrieved my baby. By the end of the week Van Halen was gone. (His where abouts are another story.)
So now we just have Bill. She is our one and only pet. And because she has been surgically altered she will lead out the remainder of her barren life in our yard trying to avoid the neighbor kids who love her.
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