I am a child of Television

A story my father used to tell about me was that he was in the beginning of waking up on a Saturday and he had this feeling of unease. He said he felt like someone was watching him. And I was. In my little feeted (footed) jammies, I stood near my father's face and he said you could only see my little nose & two big eyes. He knew what I wanted. I never bugged him, I just stood there until he woke up. He would get me my Cheerios and turn on the TV. He went back to bed.

My brother is 2 years younger than I am. He and I trained ourselves to climb the cabinets to get our bowls & situate ourselves with our cereal in front of the tv. Apparently truth be told, my mother was not a morning person. I recall throughout my school years, I would get up...open my mom's door, and let the dog in to sleep with her. Mom would unconciously lift the covers to let the aging dog under the sheets so the two of them could continue sleeping.

Apparently once in a fit of guilt, my mother started getting up with my brother and I to get us ready for school. After a few days, we voted and per my mother...asked her not to do this anymore. With this newfound independence came responsibility. We would have to be ready to go as the third cartoon on Ramblin Rod was on. (In Chicago it was Bozo the Clown, who I apparently met & CRIED when he shook my hand. Wuss!) Every city had a Ramblin Rod show. We could probably plot the decline of children as we know it by the disappearance of those quaint little morning shows. Rod I am sure was a good man, but quite unaware of the importance he played in our morning rituals. Before Popeye (Yes I am that old) had started, we had to be leaving for the bus, with or without toast in our mouths.

The same could be told about bedtime, but unfortunately I can't remember the shows. For the LONGEST time my bed time was 8pm. JESUS CHRIST...who could I survive without seeing ANYTHING. Then by the grace of the television gawd, it was moved to 8.30 (Note....Rick's stayed at 8pm. Don't know HOW my mom survived the tormenture!). But 8.30 sucked as most of the shows were AN HOUR and I had to go to the bed in the middle of them. GOOD GAWD! I will say that my mother saw through the pretend sleeping in front of the tv to make it to 9...bitch!

Tonight I am watching the Emmys...well, have been since the PRE red carpet crap started. But it brings back memories of being a kid. My mom would pull us out of bed to watch special shows so we could "learn". I mean in college as we watch the Emmys and did shots with each ugly dress, I was the ONLY one who knew who Red Buttons was and could qualify that he was looking old! Didn't EVERY parent make their kids watch Hatari! on Saturdays? My mom remembered distinctly pulling us out of bed to watch a Ed Sullivan anniversary show. I am the only person I know of who has SEEN Topo Gigio perform on TV and was once mesmerized by the spinning plate dude. S'allright? S'allright!

I still cry through the posthumus recognition of those who have passed. My husband, sister and I still alert each other when the older actors pass on. I just got weepy now when Don Rickles SHAMED every comic in the building with his genius during his acceptance speech. I am a child of television and am an adult of television as well now.

I learned all I know about funny from tv. My mom (again) would commandere the tv for her British Comedy Nights. Her laugh could be heard throughout our neighborhood on summer nights! I learned about funny from those comedies, Monty Python, Carol Burnett, The Smother's Brothers and Laugh in. Even now when people struggle with true British accents, to me it is second nature. I do know who Morgle the friendly droud is. Can be impressed with the erudition of Tommy Smother's stupidity. And cried for HOURS when Harvey Korman died because one of the best moments in my life spent with my mom was watching Tim Conway and Harvey Korman be Sleeping Beauty and Prince Charming in a close up with HUGE fake boobs. I know my mom and I almost died for laughing...and how great that was!

Now I am addicted to my DVR. This afternoon (Football Sunday upstairs, DVR catch up downstairs) I watched my shows Eureka, Burn Notice, The Closer (what will I do on Mondays until January!), History Detectives, Antiques Roadshow, several Food Network shows (Michael Symon & food...why have PORN??), and then Jon and Kate plus 8...sigh! Life is great!

My mornings now are regimented by dogs peeing and NPR. Times have changed. The other morning on vacation I looked through the local Utah channels and there were NO Ramblin Rod's...apparently Utah mornings are fraught with the anxiety over muffins and tasty wraps for kids lunches. The saving grace is PBS (gawd bless PBS!)and their array of morningness for kids! Thank goodness they are there...how else would someone know when they needed to be out for the bus!

Be good to you!
H

Sexually Adept Canadian Man....Oxy moron

So I was at Costco.....thus begins the sentence of my first book I am imagining. I was walking down the book aisle & I noticed a woman who was looking at a book I had opened the cover a few times. I asked her "Tell me why you want to read that book? (puzzled WTF look) Because I have picked it up a few times and found it intriguing but haven't bought it yet. My thought is that if you tell me to read it and I hate it, I can blame it on 'that Costco woman'". We laughed

We started to read the beginning of the synopsis two words stood out "sexually adept". I pointed them out to her..."Wait a minute....sexually adept AND a male author....that doesn't work". She agreed heartly. Then I noticed he was from Winnipeg, Manitoba (the Canadian equivalent of the Dakotas). I pointed that out...."Sexually adept man from Canada"???? We both laughed and purchased the book as these revelations only intrigued us MORE.

Costco is truly a happy place for me. A while ago my husband wanted to make Chile Verde (green chile, go figure) and wanted to go to a REAL Mexican market. We found one. I clutched my Coach bag closer to me as we walked in. If you are not familiar with a true Mexican market, one thing that is evident is that there are no FAT Mexicans. Well, at least that shop here. I was immediately anxious. I went to the produce section and everything seemed off....like Charlie & the Chocolate Factory off. My husband was in his element...."Dude, I LIVED in the barrio"...he said with a smile of someone who had "come home". "Dude, you were raised in Riverside".

Next to the produce was the meat. There were Spanish words next to the meat which I am SURE said cat, possum, and BO LUKE & DAISY (my babies). Pork was $1.99 a pound...now THAT scared me...I threw up a little bit at the idea. I dispatched Michael to get 2 pounds of the...ahem...pork. I found my tomatillos, and garlic & was perusing the peppers when sweat broke out on my brow....I had no cash, what if they didn't have DEBIT CARD machines. I panicked. Immediately I whipped out my Costco card and rubbed it against the side of my face reassuringly as I whimpered "There's no place like home, there's no place like home". Mike saw me, mocked me & told me I was banned from Costco for 2 weeks because I was a surburban wus.

Don't threaten me with a Costco ban. Serious, I would need more Benedryl to stave of the hives. It was around Thanksgiving and my mom was still alive when I walked into Costco and STOPPED. I was stunned at what I saw. I looked around and hardly anyone was looking at what I saw. They all thought it was normal. HELL NO. I dialed my mom. "Hello" I whispered. "Heather is that you?". She yelled in that irritated elderly woman voice "what in the hell are you doing? I can't hear a damn word you are saying". I had to calm her down. If she wasn't calm, she wouldn't understand the gravity, the wonder, the MIRACLE of what I was witnessing.

"I FOUND JESUS". I said...there was quiet she aske for clarification. "No really....Jesus is back and he is in COSTCO! Right here in Salt Lake City UTAH, and I am looking right at him!". My mom was just as shocked "How much is he?" Valid question, but in true Costco fashion, he came in a bulk set "I can't see how much he is but you gotta get him with Mary, Joseph, a camel, a sheep, and a wierd angel...but son of a bitch, I found Jesus". I have never looked at Sam's Club or Walmart AGAIN.

Be good to you!
H

How can you NOT love Pizza??

OMG! My husband I & just returned from a pizza date. I remarked to someone today that I was going out for pizza and they said they aren't real pizza fans. I truly present a face of understanding when people are totally out of my realm of comprehension, but how can you NOT love pizza? I mean, dude....pizza. Then they said, well....when I feel the need for pizza we send out for xxx....a take and bake place. My stomach clenched with anxiety. Sigh...I mark my life around food, but I can describe the high points of my life with pizza.

How it started....my mom...sigh....DA MAMMA! Granted it was 40 years ago, but add to that my mom was Canadian....so my first memory of pizza was from the little Chef Boyardee box and hamburger. BUT oh Lord I recall that as being my favorite meal. My brother and I would watch mom mix the dough (biscuick I am sure), press it to the pan, slurp out the sauce, add the hamburger, and sprinkle the CHEESE on (overly overly processed parmesan) then put it in the oven. I guarantee my mom created with the warning "the more you open the oven to look, the longer it takes to cook" because Rick and I would want that pie done SO quickly. It is so much the core of a happy memory that now as an adult (a fairly cogniscent cook if I must brag) I have on a few occasions, hesitated at the box of Chef Boyardee pizza (it still exists). I remember Rick and I in jammies with our slippers on thinking this was HEAVEN as we ate the pizza HOT.

My mom progresses in her culinary experiences. I recall my brother's 10th birthday where mom had a a passel full of boys & let them make their OWN pizzas. She was a GENIUS as she let US do the leg work. Now she had the sauce down...her own which took HOURS to blossom on the stove. Her dough was still bisquick but the toppings were abundent...peppers, hamburger (family of the 70's), onions, olives and grated mozzerella with the parmesan. The boys as well as the one interloper (me) were again cast into the sky, heaven.

We had a high school hang out. Giovannis. Oh Lord help me. I remember being young and asking for extra cheese, and they looked at me and shook their head. Bliss. Thank goodness we lived at home as Giovannis was a regular place to be seen and eat. As I returned home for a visit, my high school friend and I would have our catch up visits at Giovannis. It is still there and I still visit it as I pass through Portland.

When we could drive, we discovered Nona Emilias....sigh. It was outside where we would have prowled in High School. But working and Junior College made us more mobile. I recall the first time I took my husband there with my parents, sister and high school friend. We were happy. Great slabs of pizza with so much cheese that it made cows weep. When you would eat in the restaurant (yes, a restaurant) there was a strolling accordian player for ambiance. THIS was upscale. I recall when I was first in Utah, my brother taunted me that he was eating at Nona'. The next day I found a calzone in a Fed Ex box quasi fresh from beautiful downtown Hillsboro, Oregon. I have NEVER loved my brother as much as I did in that forkfull!

Let's talk college. Yah....Track Town pizza in Eugene, Oregon. I had SO many happy thoughts that when I had been out of college 10 years and was leaving the state, I drove 4 hours round trip to get the pie. Lord, it was worth it. Now let's take a minute and review the reality of college life. Broke, buzzed, and lazy...our cafeteria laden diets were punctuated with cheap pizza we picked up to avoid delivery fees and tips. Bless Track Town, they had weekly coupons left at the dorms as well as in the school and local papers. My roommate and I would secretly get a pizza, shut off the lights, and eat our prize in the dark to avoid the mooch of the floor. It was regular pizza, but was such a break from real life that it became a memory versus a meal.

Each place I have lived, there is a pizza place. I have become astute enough to believe if you want great pizza, hunt where the college students do. Seattle had Atlantic Street pizza which had a slanted floor 1/2 of a room take out place which was well worth sitting in line with smelly, stoned grunge heads to get. I felt URBAN!

I felt hopeless when I arrived in Utah. I mean REALLY....what do people in the west know about PIZZA...that requires Italians. I can't imagine many Italians converting to the LDS church. But, as I saw on PBS, an amazing little cache of Italians did land here to farm and set up the marketing system to support their eating habits. I digress. I bless the Summers brothers, Danny most especially who told us about The Pie (voices of angels). It is right on the University of Utah campus. It is a HOLE. People have signed their names for years on the bricks. Mike and I would celebrate West Wing night with the Pie and cheese pullaparts (dough with cheese in it...but definitely a must have for the lactose intollerant, ask my sister!). They have spread to the Burbs so those folks are happy. ME? I have them on speed dial (Da Pie) and when they enter my phone number into the system they say "Hello Heather". I weep silently.

Tonight we went to Mike's discovery. He was on the internet studying Napoleonase pizza (like you don't do that) and found there is one HERE. So we went. Just so you know, a maghreta pizza is dough, olive oil, chopped tomatoes, basil and fresh mozzerella. This is put in a stove oven. Let me say, I love the overfilled pizza of Giovannis, Nona's, Track Town, as well as Da Pie...but when you return to the beginning of food time....it is worth appreciating. My husband Mike is still prancing around congratulating himself for this find. My one complaint is that I want to ask for extra ham (Italian cooked ham) and more cheese. Mike was offended..."That is an AMERICAN habit...you do not do that in Napoli". On the inside, I growled...this is the damn US of friggin A buddy....give me my extra cheese!

Be good to you!
H
(go get yourself a slice this weekend!)

Action Item: I don't need your tongue in my mouth please

I am a frustrated comic. My job as a corporate trainer fulfilled that need of mine as I had a captive audience who didn't have to pay $9 for a watered down bad drink to listen to me....and they laughed. Alot.

I am a burgeoning writer. This is feeding that need. BUT for several years I have been playing with titles of either short stories or books I would write. It became a hobby. Years ago I found a precious book entitled "At the Sign of the Naked Waiter". I bought it for the title alone. It is still on my bookshelf. But I have seen many titles which were created for that shock purpose or to cause the potential reader to look twice and when we did, we realized it was really dumb.

The other day, the littlest of my doglets jumped onto me as a morning greeting (much to my husband's joy) and immediately licked my face. At one point I croaked from under my covers: "I don't need your tongue in my mouth please". So another potential title was added to my list. I mean I really don't need my Daisy's tongue in my mouth, I was polite. But it seems to be an indicator of my life lately....dogs dogs dogs and everywhere dogs!

My first title was "How in the Hell do you Drive a Buick". I thought of that one with a thwarted short story using the type of car you drive as a metaphor for the place you are in your life. At that point, I had a 4-door gray sedan (huge mistake...boyfriend said it looked like a getaway car!). I also was looking forward in mylife to a time where I would have a Buick and be in my "Buick" stage of my life and it being so unfamiliar to me so much so that I am incable of driving it. Deep I know but being 22 and imagining you will one day HAVE TO DRIVE A BUICK was pretty scary...not daunting but scary.

SO....list what an outrageous title for your life's story would be. I once had a list of these preposterous eye grabbers and regret "re-organizing" them out of my life!

Be good to you!
H

Are you there God, its me...Heather!

Last year I went to see Dolores the psychic. Mock, applaud or be disgusted....it is no matter. She freaked me out. During my session, she said "I see you sitting on the toilet yelling 'Jesus Christ can I just go to the bathroom alone??!!'".

Again, I am an over thinker. Many things disturbed me out about that observation (what do you call a psychic vision?). Dude, I wanted to look back at her and say "Jesus Christ can I just go to the bathroom alone?", because apparently NOW I had to worry about fucking psychics attending "the event".

The primary shock was that she was exactly right. Many times as I sit at home, there is a little white paw attached to a spotted forearm reaching under the door to urge me to hurry, next to that there is a larger shadow sitting right next to the door whining at my re-appearance. Finally there are times when there is a knock and "Are you gonna be in there long?". Again "Jesus Christ can I just go to the bathroom alone?". I can understand why that vision stood out to Dolores.

This leads me to work. I am a fairly well known personality (most assuredly) in our center. Everywhere I go is a stage for Heather. Many times there is little chance of privacy for me regardless where I am.

Honestly, being in the bathroom is sometimes the only time alone I get during a day. Forget going to church on Sundays, my pontificating is done a la John. More often than not, I get situated and take advantantage of the peace to just talk to God, or god depending on my holiness of the day.

I remember the day I noticed that that I did settle in, sigh, and call on the Father. "Dear God, please let me meet xx deadline". "Dear God, please let (marital strief) come out ok". "Dear God, please let me NOT see xx today". I figured if I partook of this spirituality moment in a far back stall, I was enabled to commune more peacefully. After I accepted my predilictation for potty praying, it became liberating. I began to be more thoughtful about my conversations and pontifications as the days progressed. Can't say whether it helped or not...I still ran into the people I didn't want to see, I still had marital strief and I didn't get the job I spent a few IBS weeks worth of time cajolling "the big guy" into seeing my way of thinking. But I felt comfortable with my liberated sense idea of God and I.

It is not as easy to commune with my maker at home. There are times when the little white dog sneaks in and sits next to me in her makeshift bed and the "right moment" just disappears. Not that I believe she can understand my prayers or thoughts, but you know....God is something I do alone. I make due with what ever snippets of private time God can give me or I can give God.

In the end, the flush becomes less of a closing of the conversation and more so of an AHHHHMEN.

Be good to you!
H

Staying home and Top Ramen...

Today is my last day of vacation before I return to work. I still haven't gotten over the feeling I had when I was a kid & stayed home from school.

When I was growing up, if you stayed home from school you relinquished ALL priviledges. You were home because you were SICK. The one thing that was a constant in our house was this new stuff (I am serious here) called Top Ramen. I really am that old. For lunch I was excited to have Top Ramen, chicken of course and be able to watch Perry Mason. Now I can't tell whether my mother was a genius or we just gave up....but a few episodes of Perry Mason cured us from staying home from school. I mean sure, his critical thinking techniques as well as the every so dashing Paul Drake made him a terror for the secretly guilty. And of course what kept Perry's wheels every so oiled was the faithful and reliable Della Street. Yah, I relished the time at home. But Perry Mason can only be watched in small doses. So we gave up & just enjoyed our Top Ramen.

I had to go to the store for things for a birthday cake & I passed the Top Ramen. Couldn't help but buy a few packs to celebrate my freedom. As I drove home, I still felt the edge of excitement that I was free from work and there were people where I should be NOT enjoying Top Ramen in front of bad afternoon tv. Where is Perry, Paul & Della when I need them!

Be good to you!
H

Do you really need to put panties on for the Fed Ex dude?

So, this is one of my last days of vacation. I didn't go anywhere, for a myriad of reasons, so I stayed home with the doglets.

I am waiting for a delivery and I am struggling with a mass of anxiety based around: WHAT IF I MISS THE FED EX DUDE? Seriously, if I miss him I have to wait until it is returned to the warehouse sometime late and then drive out there to get it. Really, so I can't take a shower. I can imagine these guys have seen TONS of tittilating stuff along their careers but a pudgy towel covered anxious Utah housewife is NOT on that list. Thus the reason for no shower.

Now, I do have 3 dogs, so I threw on sweats before I let them out today. Didn't really think about it as I went through the house stuff I do. With it being close to the time of the anticipated arrival I really can't have a shower, but new dilemma...do I undress and THEN put foundation garments on then REDRESS just for the Fed Ex dude? I mean I will see him for about 90 seconds through a door, is it really gonna matter? My dogs have YET to complain about my lack of appropriate attire and my husband is home at 4 so I have plenty of time to "take care of things".

If you take a moment and really care, is it fair to constantly subject these poor working folk to the injustices of morning hygene, bad attire, and no underwear? I mean do they get hazard pay? I am sure that is why they focus so intently on their computerized clip boards. Hell, I don't want to see or smell much of myself in the morning why would some random stranger forced into my company.

Yah...so I sit and mull this over as I wait for the Fed Ex dude....and it comes to pass that my computer chair is really not that comfortable without the undies!

Be good to you!
H

In the beginning there was....

Rhetoric, sarcasm, and cynicism....and Heather said...."This is good"!
Not always true, not always limited to these three basics of my life, but something had to start this off!

Here is who I am....well, not who I am but what you may take into consideration when you start to read my drivel....

1) I live in Utah. For NOW, but am not from there originally! I feel there is a necessity to preface that. Wow, I feel better for getting that off of my chest!

2) I will prostitute any one for a laugh or audience reaction...so be prepared. As was told to my by my husband "You weren't funny until you met me"...My response was "Honey I was always funny...you just gave me more material!".

3) I have no kids but 3 dogs. Yup. Deal with it. I wanted a forum to tell my dumb dog stories nearly daily.

4) I work in corporate America. Yah...cubicle farms....veal fattening pens....whatever you call it.

5) I am a frustrated comedianne. SO, one of my goals is laughter.

6) Am over 40. Not such a big deal but mostly pointed it out as I can and will pull it as a card to get out of something bad or get me something good or just offer an excuse.

7) I am alot of things but mostly opinionated. Not so much that I burn your eyebrows off, but expect it on occasion.

8) I want to grow up & be like be like Kim. No doubt she knows who she is & I have told her this on many occasions, but she had a blog so I needed to have one. She is younger, thinner, with kids and has way cooler music tastes! Happy 40th my friend!

9) I just like to hear myself talk...well, in this case....watch myself type. So if you don't wanna read, don't.

10) Why not start a blog? I truly don't believe people will read it...but some may out of the sheer excitement that THEY may be talked about. I will NOT be hiding any identities, offering pseudonyms, or honoring any witness relocation programs...so deal!

Thanks for being YOU!