This Charming Little Man

Life with a 4 year old preschooler is, well, non-stop.  It begins in the wee hours of the mornin’ (that’s how he says it) with the scurrying of little feet coming down the hall (a foreboding to the cat that he is about to be inadvertently pounced upon if he doesn’t move quickly) and the announcement that the day has arrived and Tyler is ready to own it.  This energy continues throughout the entire day, accompanied by endless curiosity, questions and parental refereeing. 

Despite the constant minor destructive path he leaves behind, I love how he listens to all kinds of music and is seemingly driven by instinct to get up and dance and/or sing along. He’s just as happy in the kitchen baking delicious confections as he is admonishing the Joker in his best Batman voice while building a Batcave out of blankets.

Who will dance...on the floor...in a round?

As if I needed one more reason to love my little Tyler, I happily added another to the list this morning.  We arrived at pre-school and after he got out of the car he met up with another little classmate.

“Hi Leah, (without even a slight pause) you look beautiful.”

I sat there and watched them as they skipped their way up to the front door, proud as ever.

Back On Track

I’ve said it before, but I love little ironies in life.  A friend of mine will send me a message when she’s discovered a great new video clip, book, or music.  A few weeks ago she encouraged me to check out the song “My Body” by Young the Giant.  That same day I received the news from a different friend that his doctor was 99% sure he had lymphoma, biopsy pending.  He’s a young (much younger than me) ambitious little $&@!, who went head first into law enforcement as a career the moment he was legally able without violating child labor laws.  While waiting for his scheduled biopsy he asked me all the same questions that I once had, mentally preparing for the unfavorable diagnosis and the possibility of chemotherapy.  I knew that no matter what the outcome would be, he was going to be fine.  Aside from youth being an advantage, there is no way he would not fight an ailment with all his might.  Waiting for the biopsy to happen is an agonizing time, a time of not knowing what is going on inside you and what will happen next.  After what seemed like months, the day of his biopsy arrived and his surgeon removed a mediastinal lymph node from his chest and explained that it had many indications that it was not lymphoma.  The biopsy results were negative, and he was instead diagnosed with Sarcoidosis, something that he’ll live with the rest of his life, receiving treatment only if symptoms require it.  Finally, take a deep breath, close your eyes and rest, and when you wake up you can carry on.

Last week I learned that my neighbor who has been fighting cancer for several months has taken a turn for the worse.  He has tumors throughout his body, growing at a rapid pace.  He’s an older gentleman and over the years he’s kindly offered me gardening advice.  During my chemotherapy, his wife knocked at my door one day and greeted me with a dozen jars of their homemade grape juice.  Side note:  Apparently grapes are little mold-spore factories and I was told by my nurse that given the compromised state of my immunities unless I was going to peel each individual grape I should avoid them.  Naturally, being told not to have something made me crave it even more. When everything tasted like chemicals and the food I once enjoyed seemed ruined, this was absolute nectar and I’ve always been grateful to them for their caring gesture.  Back to my neighbor, he has made the decision to continue in a dignified and graceful route by way of hospice care.  I can’t begin to imagine the strength it took to make the most difficult decision of his life, for his life.  At the same time, what an amazing moment that must be, to be at peace with your own soul and knowing that when you go on to the next world you're going to be just fine.

Each time you act in spite of your fear, you discover even greater, deeper courage.

-Art Berg-

I don’t have a good segue to the rest of this post, it’s more or less just a few pictures of a recent outing with the offspring. 

Union Pacific Railroad Steam Locomotive No. 844

Photo taken by my dad around 1979

Challenger No. 3985  Pages Lane crossing 1982

I always remember my Grandpa wearing his Engineer cap.  This is the only photo I could find of him in it.

That smile goes from ear to ear.

 

Black Friday

Nope, I'm not talking about the unofficial holiday commissioned by the NAACP.  I try not to post rants on the bloggity-blog, but Black Friday can kiss my white a$$.  That sounds a little bit like an Eddie Murphy line read by a dyslexic, but that’s truly how I feel towards the whole concept.  If I haven't offended you by now, by all means keep reading.

The thought of rushing into a grossly over-crowded store to save a few trivial dollars on crap no one really needs is beyond my comprehension.  What’s more baffling is that Black Friday is slowly becoming Black Thursday.  Having noticed that a few major retailers were open on Thanksgiving, I’m thoroughly disgusted.

Thursday, named after Thor – God of thunder & lightening (Yes! Score one for the Viking brethren), is not in and of itself held sacred by any major religious group that I’m aware of.  What disturbs me is that for 1 out of 2 days of the year (even Christmas will be subject to this trend before long) our society can’t adjust their priorities, priorities that are driven by nothing more than sheer greed by both consumers and retailers.  It forces the majority of employees to leave their families & friends or just their own peaceful evening because of their employer’s selfishness.  Years ago I worked at the Market Street Broiler and every Labor Day, the group that owned that restaurant and several others closed every single one and held a picnic at a nearby amusement park for the employees and their families.  I respect a business that can close up shop for a day.   

 I’m curious if there is such a maniacal occurrence in any other country.  I can’t imagine hordes of people standing in ridiculously long lines to purchase something other than basic needs such as food, water or medicine.  Not here.  This is truly an embarrassment.  I cannot think of one thing I absolutely need to buy that couldn’t wait for one more day.  This is a perfect display of a materialistic generation teaching the next generation of brats to be just as piggish and greedy.

Now, Cyber Monday is a whole different concept that I can support.  First, it’s a day where most people are scheduled to work anyways.  Second, it leads to an important day for all you Financial Crime detectives…Happy Job Security Day or Identity Theft Tuesday.

At a Loss For Words

I have a perfectly good reason(s) why I’ve neglected the blog lately.  I've had a few busy weeks and well….this came along.

Location:  Gateway Mall Apple Store  Photo taken, ironically, on an iPhone.

 Pop Quiz

This photo is best described as:

a) a moment for a great loss in my(i) life

b) my stifling uncontrolled laughter upon reading the ridiculous notes/sentiments/confessions

c) my stifling uncontrolled laughter after I scared the beejeebees out of a few unsuspecting people passing by when I looked up, raised my clenched fists to the sky and yelled/asked, "Why?!  Why him?  It should have been me first!"

 ok...now I know some of you are in agreement with the statement in option "c." Bygones?

d) all of the above minus option "a"

And people think Mormons are a cult.

You know that place between sleep and awake?

I hope everyone had a most laborious Labor Day.  Our most recent outing was a walk to Fairyland.  No, I did not take the little people to the Gap, the fragrance counter at Nordstrom, nor Lagoon on Pride Day.  (Before you start sending hate emails know that my kids do, in fact, have a Fairy-Godfather so put your keyboards back down.)  It’s a short jaunt over the river and through the woods to a place also known as The Fairy Forest.  Whatever you may call it, its fun watch the muchkins (there I go again, offending one group or another) light up when they explore this magical place.

The moose my dad spotted prior to our walk.

The subsequent traffic jam we caused by gawking at said moose.

This could very well be called "Painted Rock Land."

Move along.

I caught a glimpse of the cantankerous Leprechaun that I suspect lives under this pile of gold.

I immediately thought of 88 lines when I saw this and I know that only 2 people will even get this reference without having to "google" it.

Even fairies have riffraff.

I have to praise you.

Found you.

"Oh yeah, that's gonna be a good scar."

"No thanks Tyler, I gave up my crack-pipes some time ago."

Remember Blair Witch?  I wish I hadn't either.

This arch is delicate.

Jack Skellington is tight with the fairies.

I always appreciate a good sense of humor.

August, die she must.

Yes, I do like a lot of Simon & Garfunkel's songs. (Thank or loathe Jared Thompson for introducing me to them in the 7th grade) No, I'm not actually dying. I guess we're all perpetually dying, but this is just a little part of my soul. It happens when summer comes to an end, this year is no exception. I became aware of this when I was a teenager, the end of summer meant aggressive bees & hornets, shorter days, chilly mornings, the return of the "Bubble," and every time I got dumped by a boyfriend, inevitably it happened in August. Why I remember that crap is beyond me.  I've let it go, I just can't seem to forget it.

It was a busy month of July: home repair, parades, birthdays, camping and swim lessons. (Despite having former swim instructors as parents, Riley & Tyler are best at testing the patience of someone else in the water.)

Has no idea that child-labor laws exist.


The "Pipe Paleontologists."

There was a star danced, and under that was I born."
- William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

Tyler said, "I'm going to be a Grandpa when I get old, but I'll still be me."  I hope you never change little man.

My favorite part of the summer was a few nights ago.  I was out on the balcony in a recliner watching one of those spectacular electrical storms, the only thing I look forward to at the end of summer here.  My little Riley was snuggled in my lap with her head on my chest, just as we’ve done ever since she was born.  Like her mom, she is most content to watch lightning quietly and listen to the crickets serenade the show in the sky.  She lifted up her head and said to me,
“Momma, I can hear your heart beep (beat).”
“You can huh?”
“Yep, I like it.  It makes me think you’re an angel.”
Sweetheart, it’s been years since someone called me an angel and sadly that complete stranger, whose credibility not withstanding, was most likely trippin’ on acid or high on who knows what, as were a good portion of the other Lollapalooza attendees.

I’m so lucky that both of my children have encountered the real angels that reside around them.  I know I have my own share, some in the form of friends I hold dear to me, some fallen, some come running across the freeway as soon as I’m pulled out from an overturned vehicle, and some so close I don’t even know they are there.  Riley doesn’t realize it yet, but it’s the other way around, she and her brother are my angels.

The Boutique Critique

Welcome to the 1^st installment of the “Boutique Critique” and my 1^st entry in collaboration with co-author, Sharra!  We began our mid-morning discussion about the ri-damn-diculousness of what some find offensive.  Here’s what sparked some recent controversy:  Shop owner opens a store that provides women-specific clothing in a conservative town.  Shop owner displays bras & panties on mannequins in shop window.  Local residents see this as blatant advertisement for devil-worshipping.

Which is the better situation?

1) child sees a mannequin, (keep in mind this is an inanimate object, not of flesh & blood) clad in non-suggestive undergarments that every woman SHOULD own, no worse than what’s displayed in an illustrated Bible depicting Adam & Eve in nothing more than strategically placed fig leaves, grows up, goes to college, has a career, spouse, pets and/or kids, continues thru life in a healthy, normal law-abiding way.

or 2) child that has been taught that these particular articles of clothing are “naughty” and as an adult has an absolute come-undone upon seeing them for the first time, (most likely on a real body), drops out of college, buys a white van, and is last seen flashing unsuspecting passer-bys on a popular bike trail.

The odds of changing the views of these offended individuals is about as same as seeing a non-pedophile looking ice-cream truck driver, so instead, we found it best to give this brave entrepreneur some free advertisement.

Pretty You Boutique

 www.prettyyouboutique.com

My critique will soon follow, as will my opinion of the Men’s European swimwear store opening soon on Main St., Bountiful; complete with authentic live models sporting everything from flesh-toned Speedo’s to Borat’s mankini’s.  (Kevin - while you’re applying for that business license, throw in an app for a liquor license as well.  That’s a surefire way to make this dream become reality!)

Look for further attempts to help a local business thrive or products we find just plain fabulous.  Feel free to suggest a product that needs due recognition.  Next up…sexy cooking aprons…an oxymoron? We’ll see. 

Rachelle & Sharra

If nothing else...we’re better looking than Siskel & Ebert and smarter than Kathie & Hoda.

To the idiot who ingenuously displayed his Full Monty last night:

Let me begin by saying “thank you.” You truly made my evening memorable as I was finishing up a bike ride on the Legacy Trail.  I love riding this easily accessible, 28 mile paved road, void of stop signs, decent surroundings, and up until most recently, one that I felt relatively safe riding alone.  This trail has produced some amazing sights, a stray cat that would soon become the ruler of our home, snakes, tarantulas, and many other of God’s creatures, but you have outdone them all.

Derek recently learned the trail is terrapin-friendly

I was taken aback as I slowed down in preparation to make a sharp 90 degree turn in the road, only to look up as you emerged from the 7' tall weeds, in all your less-than-impressive glory.  Now completely stopped, I stood there frozen.  I felt a nervous laugh coming on because I was sure I just caught you peeing.  As you scurried to pull your shorts up from around your ankles and began walking away from me, probably a little embarrassed because you had just been caught, I realized you were going in the same direction in which I needed to be going.  I figured you were shirtless due to the temperatures typical for this time of year, but you see, I’ve been around males long enough to know it doesn’t require one to drop their drawers to the ground in order to urinate, this situation wasn’t adding up.

Law enforcement runs in small circles.  I’m lucky enough to know a few officers in the surrounding cities and it just so happened that a good friend of mine was working this particular evening.  I called him and asked if he was nearby, because I’ll be damned if I was going to ride past your perverted self, alone and up to this point I had not seen any other cyclists or runners in either direction.  I told my friend what I had just happened upon and didn’t think too much about other than I theorized you were just a douche bag.  You quickly proved my theory correct.  Once you were about 100 yards away from me, you turned around and started walking towards me.  Not cool.  I relayed this information to my friend as I stayed on the phone with him while he was enroute to my location.  Soon there were a few more of his comrades enroute too.  By now you must have guessed what I was doing still in the same place and on the phone, but you kept walking towards me.

Cycling shoes are made for just that, cycling, not running and certainly not treading around on a dirt road, which is where I positioned myself, slightly off the trail, but still in plain sight, so that I could see any oncoming vehicles, other travelers, and of course, you.  I’m sure you remember me telling you to stop where you were and the other pleasantries I spoke at you, but you kept right on walking, now only a few feet away from me.  Oh how reassuring you were when you told me to relax because you weren’t going to do anything to me, and clearly explained that your motorcycle was over on the dirt road and that’s where you were going.  Makes total sense!  In fact, I found it so clever the way your motorcycle was indeed over there, hidden off this dirt road in the overgrown weeds, at least 200 yards away from where I originally saw you, and the full sprint that you ran to get to it as soon as you walked past me.

Needless to say, the dust you kicked up while on your dirt bike, made it too difficult for the cops to find you.  Bravo!  But wait, there were officers at the opposite end of the very road you were traveling on.  You must have know that because you either peeled off in some other direction or dumped your bike in the tree-like weeds & swamp, knowing that the daylight was fleeting fast, and hunkered down like the little cowardly weasel that you are and waited out the search.  My sincere “thanks” to the officers and K9’s that got covered in sap from the thistle and eaten alive by the giant mosquitoes. 

So “thank you” again stranger, for potentially scaring the shit out of some younger bike enthusiasts, a lone woman out running for some exercise, or someone in need of clearing their mind by way of a pleasant walk.  Whatever your intentions were, all I can say is that I hope the same giant mosquitoes ate your balls off.

Probably you.  A much younger you.