Summa Summa Summa Time

I think I've won the award for most epically lazy blogger this summer. Lest I spoil my rep, I shall continue blogging with the least amount of effort possible...hence this hodge podge of unrelated summer photos.

My handsome tan husband had a birthday. The highlights were the puppy I bought him last minute and the incredibly manly wrapping paper I found for him. Not that there's any shame in the Tinkerbell and Elmo motif last year...Julie was my first friend I made in Las Vegas. She is a superstar among women and I am sad sad sad she moved away. This was our fancy farewell photo.
This is Nic getting Jemma psyched for the chicken chase in Gunlock, UT.
Two faces I kiss often. Wouldn't you?
The 4th of July celebration in Pine Valley Utah was so darn patriotic I about had a heart attack. I love my country.

I was just feelin' it that day. Doesn't it just look like I was feelin' it?
Did you know there are cool hikes that are super easy for kids up at Mt. Charleston? Well, it was a little much for Jemma apparently, but check out the cool pay off at the end! (Scroll down)
A waterfall! Who knew?
Do you remember feeling like you were hot stuff when you were little? For me it was when I got some lime green sunglasses with rainbow paint splatters on the lenses and a flash dance sweatshirt that hung off of one shoulder. HOT STUFF. For Afton and Ellie it was sitting on the top of the truck at the drive-in. Doesn't get any cooler.
There you have it friends, the laziest summer re-cap ever. Go me! :)

Strange Brew

You never know what a new day will bring. Lots of times it brings exactly what it brought the last ten days. Not so today. When I woke up this morning I had no idea that:

-The dog would eat my stash of powdered Crystal Light.

-Jemma would eat the powdered stash of my feet skin which was still sitting in the Ped Egg after I tamed my Sasquatch feet.

-I would have an artichoke and a spoonful of Nutella for lunch.

-I'd be diagnosed with a geezer ailment. A hernia. What?!

-A one armed man in a turban would steal my cell phone and then lie his head off about it.-When I told my sister about my phone she happened to know the guy who stole it. Ha!

It's been a weird day. I'm going to go hide my other electronic devices and powdered substances now. I also can't get over the thought that he hid my phone IN his turban. I keep picturing myself unwrapping it slowly while saying, "Ha-LOW! My name is Angie Larkin. You steal my cell phone. Prepare to DIE!

For Two Minutes

For two minutes I was a fish at Walmart. It was a rather dark exercise of imagination.

For instance, what if I were that one Beta fish that was more brown than magenta or turquoise? Who's going to buy a brown Beta? How many times would fish get restocked while that little brown one just sat there?

There is always that one fish who is sucked up against that vent thing. Deader than a door nail. Did that fish gradually drift that way after death, or did it die because it swam a little too close and got trapped and died of a massive hickey?

Goldfish are either at the bottom of the gene pool or they get no respect. Because there were at LEAST 20 dead ones all in a pile at the bottom of their tank. What's that all about? And do the live ones just swim around and avoid the dead gaze of their fallen comrades? That's gotta mess a fish up.

Why do some float when they die and some sink? And the saddest thing of the day: The little fish who swims sideways because he's on his way out. I'd rather be the trout in the meat aisle, dead under plastic with my son repeatedly poking its eye than be the sideways swimmer.

They say fish brains totally reboot with no memory of the past every three seconds. I hope that's true.

Excuse me, I will now go apply some black eyeliner and lipstick, stick a few hundred safety pins on my t-shirt and lay in a dark room listening to My Chemical Romance.

Friday the 13th, 2001

I woke up on the second day of my honeymoon and cried like I never cried before. It wasn't a wailing cry or a puffy nosed boogery cry, just a cry I felt down into my bones. It's not like I didn't know that one of us would die before the other (unless we performed some sort of Thelma and Louise stunt), it's just that I understood for the first time that there would come a day when one of us would wake up without the other one. And now that I had found THE ONE and married THE ONE, the thought truly soaked in that morning and it vaporized my heart. I hugged him so tightly. I wanted to be absorbed into his body so that it would be impossible for us to be parted. I know, I was so dramatic. But it's how I felt!

So he sung to me. Ladies, I lucked out in this department. His voice is like butta. He sang:

Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine,
I'll taste your strawberries, I'll drink your sweet wine,
A million tomorrows could all pass away,
There I forget all the joy that is mine, today.

By then I was bawling too hard to listen to the second verse.

What a beautiful and a scary thing to let yourself love someone so much. It requires inhuman amounts of trust, because if they turn out to be a dud, you are so hosed. Luckily, he's anything but a dud.

My marriage is a testament to me that God has a plan for us all. He shooed me like a clueless baby chick through my crazy life and into the arms of the perfect man for me. He has taught me to repress my swamp witch tendencies. Through watching his meekness I softened into a new person. He's never yelled at me once in our entire marriage. Bah! I wish I could say the same!

He woke me this morning with a little blue box and a kiss. If I may quote Salt and Pepa: "Whatta man whatta man whatta man, whatta mighty good man".

Happy tenth baby. Yay us!

A weekend in favorites

The best thing anyone said to me this weekend was: You look like Elizabeth Taylor, only more wholesome.

The best thing I ate this weekend was something I have never before tasted: It was breaded shrimp in this sweet mayo-like sauce with candied pecans. Oh, and the bowl of flawless huge berries atop chewy granola and Tahitian vanilla yogurt wasn't bad either!

The funniest thing I saw this weekend was a huge missile aimed at the sky on the side of Route 66. Perched on top was, wait for it....Snoopy.

My favorite thing I wore was a new pair of cork wedged heels with silver flecks in the corky part. I buckled them too tightly though, and almost required amputation after dinner.

My favorite person I met was a man who has worked in 32 different countries. He was like Indiana Jones and held me captive as he regaled me with the tale of his 500 mile trip down the Nile river with a bunch of refugees aboard.

My favorite fuzzy moment was waking up with my sweetheart in a pillowy king sized bed and watching The Joy of Painting with Bob Ross. They were happy little trees indeed.

My favorite thing I wanted to buy but didn't was a can of bandaids that looked like strips of bacon.

My favorite traveling song for this weekend was Hurt. The NIN song that Johnny Cash so expertly covered.

Scottsdale, if you weren't an even hotter armpit than Vegas, I'd almost move there.

A Sunday

Oh...my little blog, I still love you. I know it's been a while.

I was strangely reflective today. Like a monk. A really happy monk. I even got teary a few times. I gave out random hugs to people I don't ever hug. It was weird.

I was sitting in church. My observation super powers were working overtime. A 10 month old baby behind me wore the facial expressions of a poised 25 year old pearl -wearing lady. She was a lady- baby and she kept looking at me. Adorable. Her dad directed the choir in a song that made my heart do a Grinchy swelling thing. I watched a plain woman in a simple black dress sing with meaning and joy. It made her so beautiful.

I noticed the soft ringlets curled into a little girl's hair. Her dress and headband so fancy. Her mom - careful and quiet.

I looked around at many faces I knew. People with problems. People I've had problems with. But all of them together in this place. All of us hoping to soak in a little strength. Add some oil to our lamps. Show our God we love him. I felt it, that we all are the same to Him and it made me love those faces.

Then at home some family gathered around my table. We laughed and remembered the time (he who shall remain unnamed) put soap in the fancy Country Club fountains and the suds grew to 8 feet tall and out into the street. We ate bacon wrapped chilis and deviled eggs and drank grape Kool-aid and Dr. Pepper on ice. Little ones who don't want to be little anymore laughed at jokes they didn't quite get. A kid ran through the living room missing his pants and Dad had to go on a turd hunt. Grown -up girls told harmless secrets while grown -up boys did what they do which happened to be giving a test drive to a random dude in a car we weren't selling. Boys.

Then everyone left and I looked at my table. It was sticky with used up fudgescicle sticks, and littered with mostly empty plates. Someone wanted the chili, but not the bacon. I could hear the noise we had just been making and I wanted to call them all back to spend some more time around the table with me.

I feel blessed to be around all of my peeps. All of 'em.

Don't Wanna

In the days of the Cosby Show and Madonna, McDonald's served the most delectable apple pies. Not the dry crumbly wannabe pies of today. The old ones were deep fried, boiling hot with crispy, oily skin covered in crunchy golden bubbles. They trumped hot fudge sundaes if that tells you anything. I loved them like Gollum loves his precious.

One day, while eating at McDonald's, my dad saw me looking a little glum.

"What's wrong Angie?" ( I was about 5 btw)

"I'm depressed."

"Why?"

"Because this is my last bite of apple pie."

All good things come to an end. Now Christmas is over and I feel like I just ate my last bite of apple pie. My Christmas manicure has chipped off. I poured the eggnog down the drain. It glubbed out thick and yellow and coated the sink. I haven't had the heart to plug in the outdoor lights for three days. Okay, that was dramatic...I just forgot to actually. But still. I wouldn't have forgotten if it were still Christmas!

But the worst - Trashing the gingerbread houses. The trash was full and I pressed them down in the bag with a flat palm, crumbling them into sweet smelling victims of Hurricane Angie. Christmas is over and all evidences of it must die. Okay. That also was melodramatic.

Sigh.

You know what, though? I'm leaving my cards up. I'm leaving them up well into February!

The tree's getting the boot on Monday.

At least I have the extra 10 pounds I'm sure I've gained to keep me warm through the rest of the winter.

Gag.