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.

To Helen Back

My dear friend Lindsey, rest assured I don’t have misconstrued perceptions regarding the size of my butt. No, no, I save those for other issues. The comment in my previous post was my lame quotation of a lyric from a song by Queen, in which Freddie Mercury enthusiastically instructs us to “get on your bikes and ride!”

Awhile back I did just that, along with my friend Stephanie (who travelled from California just to do this!) and my cousins Kim & Tina. This was the Little Red Riding Hood bike ride near Logan that raises money to fund Women’s cancer research.

The night before the ride, we stayed up way too late. Stephanie survived the initiation to our family & even fell asleep amid our hysterical laughter (I’m not so sure our neighboring hotel room occupants were as lucky). As someone put it best, it was reminiscent of sleepovers at our Grandparent’s house on the patio.



Brrrr...it was cold.

The morning of the ride came quick. Team Bad Ass felt more like Team Dragon Ass, but we got there in time and jumped on the road for a beautiful, scenic ride. I admit I had a lot of reservations about the distance we set out to accomplish. I had more than a few mental blocks in place, I hadn’t trained at all like I’d intended prior to the ride and it was freezing cold to start. As the day went on, the blocks came down, the sun came out and cussing & cursing (under my breath of course) at some of the climbs helped everything come together, all 100 miles of it.

This ride was significant to me, not just the cause or the distance alone, but who I did it with. All three of these women are so important to me, they were there at my diagnosis, throughout my treatment, and my completion. They’ve all had their own challenges and faced them with courage & dignity. When we were little I always tried to keep up with my cousins in everything they did, especially in the pool. I was just a little out of my depth or lacked the endurance to swim as long as they could, but they’d encouraged me to keep going. I’ve always admired Stephanie for her compassion (a true challenge to maintain in her profession) and willingness to give and help others. Doing this ride together and in the company of such amazing women seemed a perfect conclusion to a very long ride.



Rolling hills - no serious climbs..whatever! 
It was worth it even if my downhill speed was only equivalent to Lance's normal cruising speed.



Kim finally found the highly coveted Oreo at one of the stops!



Some days you can't escape being surrounded by asses.



Four gargoyles at this house somewhere outside of Lewiston & the middle of no where!

I got back on my bike earlier this week.  A few wounds still healing, but it was nice to be on my favorite trail, find my cadence, lower my head, and watch the yellow dashes flash by on the side.  It's a strange tranquility too, when I look up and see the blue flax and red poppies in bloom with splashes of orange wildflowers, deer grazing near a pond, all to the sounds of Robert Plant singing in one ear & frogs croaking in the other.

p.s.  Good luck to all you Ragnar freaks this weekend.  That requires an entirely different type of insanity.

The Mouse, The Myth, The Legend

I doubt there is anything more that I can share with you about Disneyland that you don't already know, except that there is a central line of the worlds most perfect Coca Cola which is dispensed by arteries throughout the entire park, the churrors are still unsurpassed, and the Yellow Submarines still bite. Having said that, I'll just share the vacation experience via pictures.  First stop..the beach.

Home again, home again.

A perfect Baywatch run.  Mitch Buchanan would be proud.

Not convinced they should be slurped.



A quick visit to the beach, but a good one. 
I found my first piece of sea glass and 50 cents worth of a sand dollar.



My 1st visit to Disneyland circa 1986.
Riley asked why Papa was wearing his swim trunks.

Ok it's a deal.  You wear enormous sized sunglasses & I'll tie my shirt in a knot.



Their 1st visit.  Cold, wet, and rainy. 
Let me see what I can do about that.

Handing Walt my last c-note in exchange for some better weather.



Space Mountain - the 1st ride I ever went on too.



A little timid after hearing the roars from the Matterhorn's "abdominal snow monster," but Tyler seemed ok.



Look it worked!  Warm weather, warm weather.

A cup of "T."

There's swine flu, avian flu, mad cow and something about horse herpes?
I've heard there's an uprise in Amphibious Typhus.  I'll keep you posted.

I think he found his wish & he's taking it back.  I know I am.



Tyler loves trains!  Especially ones with really big chuggers.



How could he resist her?

"You can learn a lot of things from the flowers."

No caption necessary.

Summer is here, even if the temperature doesn't feel like it yet, and this fat bottomed girl has got to make the rockin' world go round.  Next up..a really, really long bike ride in Logan with more to follow.  Keep in touch my friends and with that, I bid you adieu.

Pet Peeve #9: When the National Anthem is performed in a way to showcase one’s vocal abilities (as though it’s being recorded for a top 40 hit), without reverence and selflessness, and NOT KNOWING THE LYRICS.

When I am Queen, the first item of business will be a ban on vocal variations when performing this song, effective immediately.

Other items of business, Congrats to SLCPD’s Robbery Squad for their kick-ass solvability stats, and to Det. Mike for completing his chemo/radiation treatments for Hodgkin’s!

As the country prepares cemeteries and monument sites for Memorial Day, and we as a nation acknowledge the sacrifices made by many on both foreign lands and the home front, two memories immediately come to mind.

First is from a visit to Washington D.C. on a warm, humid night. The Korean War Memorial and the surrounding monuments are lit so that they can be visited on self-guided tours after dark. There was lightning that night, non-threatening but frequent and the strikes would add a flash of light to the silent, motionless soldiers on patrol. They wear rain jackets and each one looking in a different direction, their expressions solemn yet focused. As I walked around this memorial I felt that even if it wasn’t intended to be viewed at night, it should be. How terrifying it would have been to not know, nor be able to see clearly what lies ahead, and yet these soldiers continue moving forward with bravery and purpose.

The second is that of the burial for a Fallen Officer. I didn’t know this officer well as I had only been working at the police department’s dispatch center for about 9 months. The great loss of this man was evident by the overwhelming feeling of grief the day that he was killed, and became most apparent to me at the end of that long shift when I46 gave the radio transmission that this fallen officer was 10-42 (end of service). Never again would I hear such sorrow in an officer’s voice as he respectfully ended his friend & co-workers shift. I could barely get past the lump in my throat to reply with an audible time check.

Following the funeral service in Herriman, it was a very long drive to the cemetery. The procession went on for miles. I saw something even more impressive than the endless line of police vehicles, motorcycles and glowing light bars. It was the assisting police agencies that helped with traffic control. Each officer or trooper assigned to an intersection was not just directing traffic, but standing at attention, as were many of the citizens that lined the streets. Traveling to Bountiful the freeway crosses over Beck Street. It was there off to the side, that construction workers stood facing the motorcade with their hats over their hearts. It’s most likely they didn’t know this officer, but they expressed their gratitude with this simple gesture. It was mid July, stifling hot, and the Bountiful Cemetery filled with people, all there to pay respect to one who made the ultimate sacrifice. After the 21-gun salute, the wind picked up and made the temperature bearable with a warm breeze as “Taps” was played.

All give some…some give all. A sentiment that couldn’t be more true and appropriate as we remember those who have given their all, be that soldiers of war, parents & children of soldiers, and those who protect us a little closer to home too.

Thank you to my grandfather’s, uncles, friends, co-workers, and all those who served in the Armed Forces.

One Not So Simple

A friend asked me how I came up with Lake Louise on my list of “places I would rather be.” I wish I had a short answer for that. Some time ago I was looking for a picture of Wall Lake in the Uintas, as my Google-images luck would have, I landed right in the middle of another blog. Immediately, I recognized that this was not the particular Wall Lake that I was looking for, so I read the blog for awhile to find where this one was located. Apparently, there is a Wall Lake in Canada as well. By now I was curious to learn more about the author. I bounced around the blog entries and quickly saw that she was a bicycle enthusiast and enjoyed reading about her excitement during her trips to Moab & Park City, and then I went a little numb. Damn it. She had cancer too. I now had to back up to the beginning of this blog to the first entry to read it completely through. My heart ached when I got towards the end and read that Heather did not survive breast cancer. Her friends & family have participated in cancer related fundraising bicycle rides & races, one of which was in Banff National Park, explaining how I stumbled upon photos of Lake Louise.

If you wish to read about Heather, her blog is http://onesimplegirl.wordpress.com

There you have it. Even more ironic, I was looking back in my calendar and exactly one year ago today I completed my last chemo treatment. Everyone said and everything I read told me it would be about a year before my body (and the rest of me too I suppose) would be back to normal. Not even close. Sure some things are much better, but I still have a lot of room for improvement. Now, rather than ending this entry on such a downer…let me share with you some of the best things I’ve heard recently.

Tyler: Mom, turn the water off! (As I was filling the tub with him already in it) The house is going to be all float.

Hmm…think this kid has heard any talk of floods lately?

Ever since Riley was a baby I’ve massaged her feet. I know, that doesn’t make sense for a person who finds feet repulsive (which I’m certain stemmed from working at a public pool for so long) to want to massage them right? She still loves it and while I do this before bedtime, she just starts talking about random happenings.

Riley: I saw a picture of you at Grandma’s when you were really young.

Me: Oh? Which one?

Riley: Well you had on red gloves and a tan jacket…

PAUSE FOR EXPLAINATION– When I was 15, my best friend & I had our “glamour shots” taken at Crossroads mall. Some of these photos have since resurfaced, although I thought I had destroyed all existing copies. A few of you know EXACTLY the one I’m talking about, and for that I’m truly sorry.

Riley: You looked a lot younger. You looked like a stranger, you know like someone going on a date to eat dinner or go bowling.

Me: (internal thought) Where does she come up with this stuff?

Tyler: Mom how old are you?

Me: Old.

Riley: But how old ARE you?

Me: I’m 35.

Riley & Tyler in unison: 35 YEARS OLD?!

Thanks kids. When your college funds are spent on my mid-life crisis, you’ll understand why.

Don't let these faces fool you.

I had put Tyler in a “time out.” He was adamant that he could sneak out, so I put him back in his room. He started crying as I walked down the hall so I stopped and just listened. His cries soon stopped then he said out loud,

“This is all my fault.”

Tyler I’m so proud of you. Most adults, me included, can’t and will not say those very words.

 

Tyler: Goodbye friend. I’ll love you tomorrow.

 

“You should never settle for who you are.” Michael Scott

What the_____?!

That has become the kid's favorite expression. There have been a few occasions when the question/sentiment has ended in a mild 4-letter word for which I take full responsibility. However, that’s exactly what went through my mind when I woke up this morning and looked outside only to see snow...again. It’s the last week of April so “What the hell?!” was completely appropriate. Even Riley looked out and said “I just want all this snow to melt!” C’mon Mother Nature, I understand menopause is rough, but maybe consider some hormone replacement therapy because this is really tiresome.

Here are a few places that I would rather be right now other than a cold 40 degrees in Utah:



Havasupai Falls



Musée Océanographique de Monaco



Keukenhof



Lake Louise - Canada





Seychelles











Here are some places you will never find me:

 

Dubai Hotels - or the Tower of Babel













Idiots!  And not only for wearing Speedos.





Preikestolen

 

Smoked crack prior to this photo op



Where would you go?  Or NOT go?