FORGET THE SOLDIERS!

We journeyed with our class to the Rio Grande station downtown Salt Lake. It is the original railroad station. Apparently this and the rail station in Ogden were used as temporary morgues for Soldiers who lost their lives in the World Wars until their families came to claim the bodies. Apparently the instructor has been contacted by several soldiers. As we were waiting, he was telling quite a few stories about past visits and who he had spoken to and interacted with. I turned him off. I wanted no preconceived ideas of what could be there.

We went into a room and other people were there with an iPad & a flashlight. We were showing blips on our ghost radar (yes it is an ap) and so were they. I will try to be fair. The gentleman was asking someone to turn on the flashlight if they were there. I felt someone was there. I felt an agitation with the person asking the questions. He said he wanted to know what it was like in the afterlife, how it feels to be dead. He asked a few times to turn the flashlight on....at one point it turned on. In my head I heard "There, now leave me alone". The man with the iPad asked more questions. I felt we were asking the wrong question.....so I said so. I had no idea what questions to ask. We found another room and the guy felt more there. In my mind he didn't want to talk about death....he wanted to talk about his family. I felt lighter. He never gave me clear pictures other than a sunny place and a huge tree, but he was sharing joy.

In a hallway I felt something. I asked my friend to take a picture. She took a few. Some with me in them, some without. I felt someone. I tried to get a fix on who it was. My friend was taking pictures of things in the hall. Later she looked at the photos and one had a full body entity but the legs were see through. In my head there is a logic telling me the photo is of me but I had moved. But the coordinating pictures of me show no consistency. My friend thinks it is a woman with a hood on. There are other pictures with reflections in the displays and mirrors. Fascinating.

We were sitting in the common area I felt the man again but I couldn't gain a grasp on what he wanted. He felt proprietary about the place. In my perception, he was someone who had worked there not a soldier. My friend was communicating using a crystal. I looked at her & said "You are pretty". My friend caught on and asked if she looked like his wife. Was an interesting interaction.

My friend felt a mean entity in the basement. More pictures but nothing showed. THe EVPs are still to be reviewed. Later we had the most amazing interaction. We went to the room again where the flashlight had gone on & off. The instructor and the rest of the group was there. They have a box which runs through the FM stations giving entities a chance to use the radio for communication. To me it is irritating and highly suggestive. The instructor was asking if there were any soldiers who had been killed in the room. I felt a woman. At the same time my friend felt a few cold spots. I verified the spots....chilly. My friend pointed out she smelled perm solution and a man's cologne. She pointed out what she noticed to the instructor....he moved on saying he felt a soldier who had been shot in the face. My voice was frustrated & said to me that it wasn't the soldiers....she had worked in the station for years taking notes. The remaining students were feeding into the soldier feelings yet my friend & I still felt a woman. Constantly hearing the untuned radio was bothersome so we left the room...and the woman.

These visits are intriguing. Accepting what we are seeing, hearing and feeling is not difficult but discriminating them from imagination or suggestion is definitely my next step.

Ghost Hunting

Our family (well Shawn, Mom & I) have always laughed with each other about ghosts in our house. There was a little boy who "lived" in the closet on the second floor in our last place. A friend of mom's saw him. The three of us just had feelings...whether valid or not we just knew other people were out there. Mom said her grandmother had feelings as well.

SO last year looking at a brochure of Community Education classes, I noticed a Ghost hunting class. My friend took it, I didn't. Time passed and another friend started posting what she had heard, seen and experienced. I signed up. I will be honest, I was nervous on the first night which was held in class. Now, I just think the instructor told us too much of what he had experienced which lead some of the class members to pre-perceive things.

The first place we went was a cemetery in Park City. My friend had been there & had some EVP's (Electronic voice projections) which she captured. She said she wanted to take me to the place where she had heard things, but I told her I would lead her there. Here is my struggle...discerning what is a viable message vs my imagination. It ended up that I got us to the exact spot. We took tons of pix & recorded alot. I used dousing rods to gain "answers". I want to learn again what is a genuine message vs me breathing...laugh.

We felt some"one" around a grave of a woman and 4 of her babies. Because she & the last baby had the same death year, we assumed she died in childbirth. I get my feelings on my shoulder & neck. Almost like my arm is asleep. When I had those feelings, I had my friend take pictures. There are two pictures of my hip where there is a shimmer and one even has a pink tinge to it. When my friend had feelings, I took pictures of her. She is amazing! She reviews the pictures and the hours and hours of tape to collect evidence. When she was sitting and talking to John, she received quite a few EVP's. Fortunately we were pretty much alone. I told Mike that I struggled with people who weren't at OUR level. Snobby but we had people who would mimic what the instructor would say & said he felt. I know we all are desperate for answers, but my friend & I wanted to find answers on our own.

I felt something over a grave of a man who's headstone indicated he was a logger. We were standing with two young men using dousing rods to talk to this guy. They were fixated on him dying in a brothel. Our EVPs had a very definitive NO when asked. In my head the messages I received were leading away from death in a brothel. As we were "listening" the instructor" came up and had us ask about the number 6. I was crabby as it totally derailed us....the feelings stopped.

The young men were using the rods wrong. I am not talking as an expert, but the rods couldn't cross. My friend & I were interested in what was happening but it was tough not to take what they were "receiving" as misguided.

My goal is to understand what I am feeling and "hearing" and be able to translate it. Next post....The Rio Grande Station. My friend's holy grail!

Gift me Marge!

When I hit adulthood, my mom made a confession which was almost difficult to hear. She said that they struggled to give me gifts because I was always disappointed with what I received. I felt guilt and hurt. I never thought I was a materialistic child, but listening to my mother, I guess I was. I apologized to my mom. NO, she refuted....she said whatever they gave me didn't fit the vision in my little creative head & I was disappointed.

I don't think she was far off. In my head, I have unpainted paintings, unwritten ideas, all sorts of creations which when started OUTSIDE of my head, wither...ever so painfully. My friend does gifts amazingly well. So well I am stymied. When she got married, I chickened out & got a gift certificate. Maybe it was marriage which dulled my gift giving sense.

Marriage. Mike receives gifts very well, kinda. In August, he starts on his Christmas list. In January, he starts on his March birthday gift list. Being ADD his list is long and changes often. Alot of times he buys his own gift & lets me know.

I worked late. Was talking to Mike on the way home & he said he had a card for me & a surprise. My heart smiled! I am going to pause here for a Faye rule. Do NOT give me gifts for the house. No blenders, vaccums, or coffee makers (which she went through quarterly). I was raised with that rule...though funny....mom spent most of my birthdays since I was 17 giving me gifts for my house...hmmm. So I get in the door, exhausted. There is a card....but it is on top of a COLLECTION of Glad containers. Mike was fortunately asleep.

Mike is working OT and getting up at 4am every day. As well as I am working to gain better marital behaviors. When I was heading over today to visit him at work, I commented "I am sorry, huneeee....but I didn't see my prize when I got home. Did you leave it in your car?". I am sure the tone in my voice was soo sweet that it stopped him in his tracks. "But there were....some containers there", he offered cautiously & somewhat weekly.

"So those containers for left overs...". I stopped. If there had been a soundtrack, the theme from Jaws would have played. "I am sorry I couldn't find your surprise...Did you leave it in your car?".

Oh yes, he responded. "It must be in my truck because I would NEVER give a gift which was for the house, that is like giving a vaccum cleaner!". We both laughed.

He came home with football munchies just for me....pinwheel cookies and 2 (count em) 2 packages of cornuts.

I, as well as Faye, are happy!

Trouble in Sleepy City

I am large...so is my husband.

Now before you think this is a self depreciating diatrab on obesity, it isn't. We have approximately 80 pounds collectively of dog. Both of my brothers dogs singularly weigh more than that.

When we go to bed, the command is "In your room", meaning they go into the guest room which is covered by costco dog beds (very Bedouin/harem like). They have food, water, the protected guest bed, and it is the coolest room temperature. They do not suffer. When we got the boys, we put their beds in our room. Midway through the night, Bo would stand by my side of the bed & shake his collar & tags until I got up. Aware of not wanting to established this as a habit, I became adept at ignoring him. He in turn became Tenacious Bo, & would poke at my hand and nudge the bed. This is where "In your room" started.

So, the boys are pretty good about getting up & going into their room. Daisy, on the other hand, apparently has noticed the change in the rhythm of the house when it is time for THE ROOM. So she walks away....calmly & decidely. I leave the retrieval of said discipline problem to Da Pappa. He bribes her. Again another bad habit. But there are nights when we both relent and have the Dukes sleep with us....here comes the problem with being large. 80 pounds of dog & an unmentionable number of human pounds, in a queen bed. Here is how it works...Mike rolls over, Luke sits at the head of the bed in between Mike & I, Bo is under the covers near both of our calves, and Daisy sleeps on top of the covers near Luke. But what you are missing is the migration. Daisy sleeps close enough to me to touch me...I think it comforts her. Bo also tends to touch me. Mike loves this sleepover attitude. Me? I am so far on the edge, my boob is on the floor. Da Momma doesn't like this. Usually about an hour into this, I put them in their room.

As of late, there has been a struggle with getting the boys to their room. It started with Bo. Mike gives the command, Luke follows, but Bo sits up & doesn't move. Not only does he not move, he looks to ME for approval. I laugh. Bo lays down as Mike commands again. Again I laugh. Only when I tell him to go does Bo go into their room. In the past week, the hilarity has increased. NOW Luke is not responding to Mike's command. Bo has become emboldened and sits up and looks Mike in the eye. I still laugh. Not at their failure to follow the command, but the idea that the room is negotiable.

So, all you parents of human children understand, in the Davidson household...we have the same issues you do with night time!

Just Me!

That Smells Like Urine

30 years ago, I was babysitting my summer away with two boys the oldest being 10, and somewhat independent. At lunch I would make sandwiches or such. Pat rejected my offerings and he wanted to make his own sandwich. The rule became whatever he made he had to eat. I worded the rule like that as he was creating the foulest combinations he could imagine (yes, my opinion but YOU decide). The one I recall vividly was maple syrup, brown sugar and mustard. I remember his face as he made it, defiant. If I remember correctly that defiance dissapated just a tad when his brother & I sat and watched him eat....the whole thing!

With my husband, you would not know he is a grown man by what he eats. Here is the tuna I make for him (he requested these ingredients) mayo, yellow mustard, deli mustard, horseradish cream, horseradish and dill pickle relish. He mentioned (with his most charming twinkle) if I felt like adding minced onions, he would appreciate it. I did not feel so inclined. I also gave up making the stuff! The other night before I went to bed I came down following a horrid odor. Mike looked guilty. Did the dog pee, I inquired. He was quizzical. I went on, it really smells like urine. I am scouring the floor to see if I can find an offending spot. Mike said "I just made some tuna" he paused "I put saurkraut in it, want to smell it?". Mike, your food smells like urine.

I have married the Swedish Chef. You know who that is. The squinty eyed unintelligible cook who would create muppet like chaos while chattering "Hordy fordy hordy" or something to that effect. The classic Swedish Chef story was years ago (years ago as I have forbade him to cook any longer). He calls & asks what he can do for dinner with the chicken I had defrosted. I said I had a tortilla soup mix which he could add the sauteed chicken to. He left to his task. I will attempt to (without exaggeration) to clarify what he added to the soup: 1 envelope dehydrated onion soup mix, 1 envelope dehydrated chicken noodle soup, onions, boullion cube, and another soup mix I had stored. With pride he showed me my dinner. I can't say it was tasty. What ever had been dehydrated had yet to rehydrate as he neglected in the melee to add more water and it smelled weird. He told me what he had added with a frenzied eye. I was speechless. The directions for the original soup were 7 cups boiling water and the sauteed chicken. Yes I was ungrateful that night...the next day when everything which needed water had some, it was a fairly tasty stew!

Lately he just puts most of his meals in a tortilla! Not so odd except when he eats his veggie burgers. Now these are not regular veggie burgers they are extra spicy black bean burgers. I will at this time quote my sister and say "they smell like ass". I am not enticed to eat them by their smell. But he is focused on eating healthy and accompanies the odd disk with a myriad of condiments and cheese on his tortilla, smiling he bites into his creative meal....hordy fordy hordy!

Just Me!

Dog person

I know I am a dog person. Our first dog was the first love of my life. She took my heart when I was 6 and it tore at mine when I put her down 15 years later! The 3 I have now have not only taken my heart but my husbands....and with pleasure.

I have a small confession to make...we had 2 cats before I moved out of my parents house, Bellamy & Tori. I would love to say that they were my sister's cats...they weren't...they had us all. Mom & I were visiting friends in Eastern Oregon & there were kittens. I cannot recall where the idea came from but we called Shawn & told her we were bringing home a siamese mix kitten! She was elated! The dog had been mine, this cat was hers! I can't remember where she got the idea, but she got the atlas & opened it t a random page (Wyoming) & landed her finger...Bellamy. Thus the cat's name.

We put a bell on her collar & she ran with the other kitty & caused havoc. When you drove up she would run from anywhere in the neighborhood to welcome you. Not really, she would arrive at your feet as you opened the car door and preen for approval. Then run away after you admired her. She would make her napping place was the basket we kept the dinner napkins. She was struck by a car as I watched. The woman was debilitated with guilt. I couldn't tell whether or not she was dead. At the clinic, it was horrid to see DOA on the sheet...again my heart was torn. The woman came the next day with a grief card.

Next was Tori (short for Victoria) who was also a Siamese mix. I don't recall how she came to be in our household but she carried herself as her regal namesake! I had a small study room with my desk so I could finish my degree. I would hunker down with my walkman to study. Along would come Tori & she would sit and watch. And stare. And SMACK my pen as I wrote. When I would stop writing, she would SMACK my hand when I would stop. She was entertainment for my tedium. Mt Dew & Tori helped me graduate from college. The horror of her death was she was following my sister to the school bus and she was hit by a car, Shawn was devastated.

Even if I wasn't allergic, I would not get another cat as these 2 ladies cannot be replaced!

Just Me

Leather Tuscdaro

Mullets are hypocritically maligned in this day an age....why? Come on, admit you had one! OR you had the equivalent! Everyone is on the watch for mullets now. "Business in the front and Party in the back" we all find it hilarious! Halloween costumes are made around the wigs! We all laugh.

Taking a step back and over 20 years ago I was bored with my Dorothy Hamil cut my mom was excited to give me. In exasperation, mom took me to the stylist and said "Give her something different.". I ended up with a mullet. I boldly say I am not ashamed! Though I do regret the decision. I didn't like the cut, seriously....it bothered me. But it got worse. Because the next day at school, I was taunted at school with "Leather Tuscadaro".

Thinkk back fair friends to Happy Days when we as America were bored with the guys and Pinky stole Fonzi's heart, and her little sister showed up....Leather! Yah....that was me! For weeks. I am sure the poor actress is a wonderful person but I really had a 12 year old's petty hatred for her and her STUPID hair!

When I have heard "don't worry, it will grow out" as a response to a bad haircut, I struggle with that. It takes FOREVERRR for it to grow out....and the pain is endless. The next time a mullet is mocked, be mindful of the "mullet" you had when your hair was at its worst.

Just Me

Circumcision

I like libraries. I am not alone I am sure. Public libraries are good but I have found more fun in libraries of the universities I have attended.

At the University of Oregon I recall an amazing finding of old schematics and plans for the buildings on campus. Around those documents, I found old letters and newspapers. To be honest a guy I had a crush on (& would follow relentlessly) was an atchitect major & he was studying in the area. Future visits were all my own.

I know I spent more time in the Portland State University library. I lived at home with my parents to complete school, so I found peace and solace in the library. I remember finding studying carrolls in areas where the surrounding books were interesting. Being ADD I could study in 30 minute intervals. Then I would have to walk and peruse the books.

I found a shelf of books where the Holocaust was studied. The most nauseating book was a replication of the medical study and their results done in the camps. I can't retell them as I have tried to put them as well as the horrible mental pictures it created.

I can't remember where I was studying where my most memorable wanderings happened. I remember being very disinterested in studying, and I looked and there is was "Circumcision". I looked around to see if it was a joke. So of course I picked it up.

To be fair, I only made it through part of the forward, but I really could not ignore the book. The author's first sentence wanted me to be an author "I am sure you are wondering why there is a book on circumcision. When I was in medical school there were no books on the subject, I figured there should be". Enough said I figured. I put the book back fearful it would cover the step by step precision required for each procedural step.

Just Me

Underwearless Dog Chaser...film at 11!

Funny to me is the human condition gone awry. I mean really...someone trips, farts, gets hit in the groin, or is scared we laugh. And that is a wonderful thing.

Unfortunately there have been times when torturing people just for my own laughs has been tooo pleasurable. Getting the polling volunteer to sign "God Bless America" the first time my sister voted, betting my husband wouldn't let the dogs out naked, and chasing my youngest with the swiffer.

It is the reason why Candid Camera morphed into America's Funniest Home Videos which is now surpassed by You Tube. The other day I was chasing my youngest down the street sans undergarments, a chicken strip in my hand with the neighbor lady yelling "Your dog got out!"....I knew that I was going to be on You Tube as the Underwearless Dog Chaser!

You want to look! Just Me

Middle Age Crisis?

Last night I couldn't sleep as I was frustrated I am not the same person I was 15 years ago, nor do I have a grasp on how to get back there. Two parts of my mind were dueling on how to either get there.

I have always had a firm resistance to playing the game "If you could do this over again, would you....?". If you fantasize about going a different path, it shows you are committing adultery on the present you have no choice but to continue. A Wonderful Life is a movie...there is nothing real about going back & taking a different path...& it is sad to hold on to that hope.

But me? I want the freedom from neurosis, control, and fear I had 15 years ago. I had a healthy mom, a wierd but normal dad, life on my own, direction and goals at work, a dysfunctional relationship with a man (who didn't?), and a pace which suited me. Looking at each one of those individually, I can do them now but with different results.

Well, mom is gone...dad is wierder. I don't have a life on my own but I can have a ME in the we. Dysfunctional relationship with a man....ding...done. Though the frustrations come when HE is the normal one at times...argh. A job? That is a puzzle. Being away from my job for a month has afforded me the opportunity to see that my passion for what I have been doing has been a motivator....helping people, implementing ideas, and being in a changing field. But it is less intriguing to me....burn out? Age? I figure that after 14 years (10 n this current position) there is little new on the treadmill of work. So, this is the part of my life to be minimized. 15 years ago it was the end all. Now it needs to be the means to an end. It doesn't need to be, I want it to be. Pay the mortgage will be its top purpose. No, I am not giving up, but it is not more important than me.

The sports car? Sure, I have the day off....heh heh heh

On My Tombstone!

Here's my topic for the Gritty Woman: 6 words

There is a guy I heard interviewed who started a project asking people for 6 words to describe themselves on their tombstone. The interviewer and writer went back and forth reading the submissions. Some were very insightful & deep....others showed a glimpse into human turmoil....and others were just plain silly.

For years (even before the interview) has been : She did it with a giggle! I honestly don't consider myself a particularly happy person but I really do enjoy seeing humor in things. Regular everyday things. I also figure when I do still do even random things I tend to giggle. People think I am up to no good because of this habit. Honestly, I will declare NOW that I am not the planner or implementer of THINGS. I cannot keep my mouth shut nor stop laughing about it....so the 6 words fit.

I work in a 1000 person call center where alot of people know me. When I go away, upon my return I receive the most wonderful comment: "Where have you been? I have missed your laugh". Not that I yearn to be memorable to people but knowing that my laugh makes people smile is a huge smile for me. One time I confessed to someone that my road to heaven was paved with the laughs I give people. The person derisively stated "It is not that easy to get to heaven". I might have said this outloud "In my heaven it is!". I did really want to debate heaven & ask "How do you know (poop pants)?" but Christians always fall back on that faith thingee.

So, however you get there, what are the lasting words you want to be remembered by?

Why my dogs love ME!!

So my buddy Gritty City Woman & I are writing back and forth on our blogs with subjects and putting our own spin on them! She has a succinct sense of humor which gets you smiling then laughing. She had a post about a horrible death on a trip to Hawaii which I still can envision the horror of what she saw! Check US out!

Gritty Woman started this round with "Why I Love My Dog". As all of you know I am totally entranced by my dogs. Gritty stopped her list at 13. ME? I am pulling in the reins and saying why each of my dogs love Da Momma (me)....lets see what they said:

Bo: I love Da Momma because she gives me treats & chewies, lets me sleep under the sheets, takes us for rides, she gives me food and rubs my belly. WHAT I DON'T LOVE is when she 1) Grabs my bum & won't let me go 2) Chases me around the house with the broom thingee 3) And she put a mini pad on my back the other day which I couldn't reach, that made me mad. I definitely don't love her when she does that stuff! Stop Momma! Oh, can I have a chewie now?

Luke: I love Da Momma because she lets me yell at her, she & I talk about my day and she REALLY listens, before Daisy jumps on her & pushes me out of the way. She makes me have fun when she blows bubbles for us, Daisy is mean to me at bubble time. She gives me food in her hand because Daisy is mean & pushes me away from the food. She rubs my tummy & ears which I like and she pushes Daisy away! I love Da Momma cuz she tricked Poppa Mike into getting me before Daisy was here!

Daisy: She's ok. She sits quietly when I sit on her & watch Poppa Mike. She comes to rub my tummy at night like she is supposed to. She holds my chewie so I can chew it easier, Good Da Momma. She lets me sit outside for a long time because I am not ready to come in. She drives me where I need to go to hunt busses & trucks. When I go for a run out of the yard she not only comes and get me BUT she also gives me a treat when she finds me! Da Momma is good, I like her alot!!

Slurpees &n cornuts!

That's what I started out with...a slurpee and cornuts and I am in my car! It has always been one of my most favorite places in the world....behind the wheel of my car. I have owned 7 in my life, almost went to 8 this summer. My husband jokes that if my tags need renewing, it is time for a new car. Efficient view of time management!

I failed my learner's permit first time out & was devastated as my BFF at the time got hers. I won in the long run as my birthday was earlier & I got my license (barely) first time out. I remember the liberation and sensation of being in the car alone for the first time. I went to the bank for my mom!

Today I have not much of an agenda but wanting to enjoy my favorite past time! Years ago I figured out why driving is so cool to me. I get to go where I want, choose the inside climate, music and even occupants! I love it! I also love driving around and SEEING! Today I found a new cafe/bistro owned & operated by chefs, the military section of the Pioneer cemetary, the NAVAL Science building at the University of Utah, and was able to admire the stunning view of the valley on a clear summer day!

I was at a light in an area somewhat similar to Seattle when I noticed the cafe/bistro owned by the chefs. For a minute I was at a loss as to why that was important. Then it hit me the freedom they would have when choosing the menu. Freedom from uncreative or mislead owners/managers who are pandering to the crowd vs great food! I looked it up when I got home...I can't go there, NO BLOODY DESSERTS...nuff said!

This summer with time on my hand I have taken to the cemetary. Let me clarify that it has only been a few times and for mostly historical purposes! I saw the rows of marble headstones standing identically in a row, I pulled over. Michael's father is a Purple Heart veteran. My father was in the Korean & Viet Nam wars. Growing up in Oregon, I am very defensive about the military. Oregon has little military presence & has little understanding for the necessity and lifestyle. Walking the rows the hairs on the back of my neck stood in awe of what these rows represented! Standing there in the hot sun and slight bridge, I thanked them for my freedom and their work, and reverently left.

I am sure there is little need to remind whomever may be reading this but Utah is a Land Locked State. I cannot tell you how far away it is from a considerable body of water. I understand the beauty and uniquity of the Great Salt Lake, but we are land locked! So I almost drove up the curb when I saw the Naval Science building at the U. Both in Oregon and Washington, there is a proximity to the ocean, a river, or sounds which make the schools naturally friendly to marine sciences, but UTAH? So I corrected my close minded thoughts & wondered if it was an ROTC/military building....but again....the Navy has SHIPS. Being honked at to move on, I am still pondering the potential use of the building.

The U is at the near promintary of Salt Lake city. Pulling over, it was a beautiful sight! Regardless of my feelings of the area, this city was founded by people yearning to live their lives without persecution. State street runs from the Capital building the length of the city. The streets were made wider when the city was founded due to the potential traffic to come as the faithful visited Zion. The hills surrounding the valley were summer brown and green still beautiful in their breadth. Hills which had to be endured by the Mormon pioneers, the eager rushing to the gold rush, or to get to the Oregon trail. Hills where the Donner party was still healthy and optimistic. Still a great vantage point!

I sipped my slurpee and crunched my cornuts and headed to my errands satisified I had learned a few new & weird things in my trip.

JustMe

Antichrist

When I was a kid, I was obsessed with TV Guide. Thinking back I can't tell you what specifically intrigued me, but for a while my mom bought it weekly & I was enthralled.

I remember reading ahead to my favorite shows to see what was going to happen in that half sentence synopsis and feeling so enlivened that I KNEW! Our generation was one of the first group of kids raised on tv. I mean I knew each morning (in Oregon) we had to be ready for school before the halfway point of Ramblin Rod. In Chicago I think we had to be ready to go before Popeye came on in the morning. Before I make my mom seem neglectful, I will share a few things about Faye. She was most assuredly not a morning person when we were kids, may have been avoidance, but she really didn't do well. My brother & I got ourselves going. The story from my mom was that my brother & I became empowered (?) in getting our own breakfasts. At 4/5 we were capable, able & excited to get up on the counter, gather cereal bowls and cereal & feed ourselves. Mom said at one point she felt guilty & began getting up in the morning to be the great mom she envisioned. I will give the credit to Rick, but one of us told her after a week to please stay in bed because she was mean in the morning. The result is we didn't really know how to tell time on a clock, we knew how to manage our time by the TV.

Not to let my dad off the hook....because he tells the story that he was sleeping and had the feeling that someone was watching him. And there was....littlle ME. He said you could just see my eyes over the mattress just staring at him not talking. He said he would get out of bed, get me cereal and turn on the tv, and I was good. He went back to bed. My brother wasn't born so I was under 2. Dad said it was funny because I didn't fuss, cry or wake him up, just sat & waited.

I do have a problem with tv. I admit it. Recently on a visit to my brother, I was shown how to search on the remote through the channels without changing your channel. I was entranced. Surfing the channels the other night I saw on a channel a show entitled "Antichrist". I looked around the room looking for a hidden camera, nope...just me and my imagination! At first I was leary of viewing the show. I mean I saw all of the bad 80s horror movies where an unsuspecting person gets sucked into a horror scenario and dying an icky death while SCREAMING so irritatingly and my curiosity would NOT allow me to be that dumb....besides, I had seen those movies and was farrr from unsuspecting.

Thinking about it more, I started to envision what the show was. In my head I saw a big headed, scarlet satan (something out of Hellboy) sitting in a Carson like set with a suit interviewing people. Satanic minions would scurry the guests on, fetch water, and rouse the crowds to laugh when the antichrist was not really funny. Of course there would be a special minion band with a leader who was able to banter with the antichrist to bring interest! It all fell together in my head. An audience of zombie like people zombie-roaring to the bad jokes and applauding with whichever remaining extremities they had. He would interview other fallen angels, who would do God jokes. He would interview random people from hell who were horrible in their earth life and the crowds would roar in approval. It just fit!

I hesitated in choosing to watch the show because it most certainly would NOT have fit my vision and would have been a deep disappointment! Blame my parents for putting me infront of the boob tube!
H

Bored

With no one but myself to blame, I am bored. More mentally than anything else. Sure I walk around the block. That is 30 minutes. I even doubled the distance, still not enough. What I am not doing is this. Avoiding? Possibly. I have been reading a book written by a woman I heard interviewed on NPR. She sounded so funny. Lori Notaro-esque. So I bought her first collection of short stories. Snobby? But I only was mildly entertained. Snobby because I am a reverse snob. She is thin, came from a wealthy family with mild dysfunctions. Her words were set to be funny but it wasn't. I was disappointed.

I know what the problem is. As a seasoned movie viewer I "pop" out of the viewer position and very often do I "pop" into the evaluative mode. I will look a the camera angles, notice props, wonder where they found certain locations, and wonder at dialogs. Unfortunately I don't enjoy the movies at times as I am going behind the scenes to deconstruct the creative process. The same has started to happen with books.

Years ago my sister & I thought about writing erotica. I don't know if it was a valid thought or direction but we did have a very long late night conversation brainstorming the various slang terms for genetalia & sexual acts. Cock is just an ugly word but realistically it suits the purpose and (forgive me) the thrust of the necessity of the word. I figured 1) I don't have enough sexual creativity to write erotica 2) I didn't want to consider anal sex and much erotica has those as scenarios 3) I would not be able to write as I was laughing too much (imagine how bad it would have been if my sister & I would have written together!) 4) I tend to count word usage and COCK would be overused within the first two pages.

I have recently turned towards humor in the books I purchase. And I am disappointed. I watch too much Food Network, but imagine if your life was encased in food. At some point Ho-Ho's and DIng Dongs must be repellant. I think I am there with humor books. Could be my own bitterness that I am not writing, but I have lost enjoyment. A friend gave me a book last year when I has surgery. Alot of the stories were off color. I really have no other word for it. I mean I did laugh at her explaining a teen story when she discovered masturbation and had to explain the ensuing carpal tunnel pain to her parents to avoid going to the doctor, but many of them were over the top. David Sedaris did that to me in some of his first stories. Hitch hiking with a paraplegic friend to gain money from strangers was an awkwardly funny piece. I still can't read his Christmas card story about the illeglegitimate Viet Namese daughter who showed up. Maybe that is Utah in me or maybe I do have limits. Fortunately for me, David has somewhat mellowed. I am still a difficult audience to please.

One of my struggles with my humor is it is mostly based around other people and their reactions. I can't have humor without daily ruminations on the world and those people who are brave/stupid enough to cross my paths.

Birthdays

Before she died my mom confessed somewhat wearily about the imaginative child they (ostensibly she) had raised. She said regardless what they did for me or bought for me she felt like it wasn't enough because whatever they did, it didn't match the vision in my little head, so I was disappointed.

I was hit with a horrible wave of guilt because she was right. Regardless of the situation, the world rarely matches what is in my head and I am either frustrated or disappointed. I can't imagine combatting that reality as a parent. I mean coming up against a wealthier parent who does amazing things for their own kid is manageable....step parents are also something to explain away...but how do you train a child to THINK differently.

Then we go into boyfriends & birthdays. Pretty succinct conversation as there weren't many. Suffice to say the two which made an impact were enough. I remember planning a camping trip, all packed when flowers arrived. HUGE bouquet of yellow roses. Why? He didn't have the money to drive down to go camping with me. What I found out later is he went driving with a friend, a few parties and bought a cat. I blame this one. I truly do. I also HATE receiving flowers, most specifically yellow roses which at one point were my fav!

Poor Mike. He LOVES getting stuff and his birthday is right around our bonus time and he gets stuff! His wish list for his birthday starts in January. Vegas has been a fav destination for the minx. A few parties. New car stereo. All affordable.


Around my birthday, the bonus is gone and we are without surplus funds. Due to the previous dickhead, I prefer NOT to be home on my birthday. Living in the PNW I would just drive to whichever state I was not living in. Or even to Canada where I had a passel of relatives who were more than willing to get together on a summer night & eat & drink. The best birthday EVER was our trip to Chicago. Our plans were to meet my sister there from S Carolina & then go & watch the recording of my FAV show, Wait Wait, Don't Tell me! My sister couldn't make it for the first day. Mike & I arrived at the hotel & went walking to the park where the show was to be performed. Melinimium Park. Right in the middle of Chicago. Though we were hours early, we sat & watched the preparations. We were in the 3rd row. So we stayed. As it was a free event, we figured why not. In the long run, over 11,000 people showed up that Thursday night to see/hear the show. We stayed within the first few rows....spectacular. I tell Mike he got off easy as the tickets were FREE! Beautiful Chicago night, with a crowd of quasi like-minded people, and within stalking distance to Peter Segal & Carl Castle! I mean what else would an NPR Geek want? Best birthday EVER.

I want to end it on that note. Unfortunately especially with my mom gone, my birthday is a giant suck hole....laugh.

I will say last year's was funny. 10 days before my birthday I had gall bladder surgery. Not horribly bad. The surgery itself was easy, was over that in a day. The recovery knocked the shit out of me. What is awesome for me is either the book for Harry Potter or the movies were released on or near my birthday...how friggin great is that? I got out of bed to got to Chilis for dinner (it was what I could eat & not barf) & then the HP movie with Mike & a friend. The awesome part is when Mike's most recent birthday came to be planned, I was ready. "What are we going to do for my birthday?", I was asked. "Honey, the same thing we did for my birthday!". His face looked puzzled "What did we do?". "Dinner at Chili's and the latest Harry Potter movie". Not New Orleans, not a big party, not Vegas....the same thing I got...Dinner at Chili's and a movie. LAUGH.

Here's what I want:

I was sitting home watching WAY too many reality shows & I knew I needed a list to guide me out of this....um...let's just call it a funk! Being goal oriented & a project manager type of person, I extrapolated on solution was a list. 1) It will really test what I like 2) It would be fun (more fun than Regis asking clueless questions to Pink) 3) I can check things off!! Here we go

1) I want out of Utah. Nothing bad about the state unless you are Non-republican, quasi-liberal, pro-choice, FAT, outspoken, childless, non-sports oriented, and a-religious. I have for a long time blamed me for my feeling of not belonging....now I am blaming the state. There I said it. The Perks of Utah have been: meeting my husband, owning our first home and very little rain! We were supposed to be gone before my 45th birthday, but I am hoping a moving truck is not pulling up to our house between now & Monday!

2) I want my creativity back!! Whatever form it takes here in my Grandma Moses years, I welcome it...but I want it back. Years of neglect & out and out ignoring....have just made it shrivel up and die. Use it or lose it is fairly apt!

3) I am funny & I will remember it. Again the Utah thing. I am funny. The disenfranchised of the state think I am funny, I need to remember that. I need to state: Friggin means FUCK...if you SAY friggin, God KNOWS you mean FUCK. That is a hypocritical statement of being here.

4) I want to laugh again.

5) I want to always appreciate doglet praise,, affection and adoration. 6 years ago, Bo entered our lives with his little white goatee and the heart on his chest. There has been nothing but fun with the 3 demanding, slobbering, licking addicted, bundles of fur. When I was doing not so well the other day and in bed sleeping, Luke stood up, shook his head so his collar jangled thus signalling the end of Poor Heather time. Imagine, opinionated entities in my household.

6) I want to be one of those weird old women. A person less concerned with the whispers of astonishment vs enjoying life. I have started walking as I have been home. I have taken joy that more often than not I have no underpants on! God love it,

7) I want a reality show about ME. Sometimes I laugh at that & other times I remember the card I purchased a few years ago "Sometimes I look up as if there is a secret camera filming and I say 'I know you are there and what you are doing'". More often I want PROOF of the dumbass crap I see people do and hear them say. I find myself saying "Honestly, I am not exaggerating".

8) I want to be published.

9) I want to act without fear.

10) I want to be OK with my picky eating habits. My husband attempted logic on me about how when I head down the road to death, how I will REGRET never eating hagis. There is a way of living without fear yet living WITH culinary sensibility. The 3 month Tibetan food argument is a point: Tibetan monks stand on the corner of the street with empty bowls begging for brown rice...fat chicks don't beg for food LET ALONE brown rice. (Truth be told, he didn't like the Tibetan food!).

11) I want to travel. Well, let me clarify....I have no care to see India at this time nor much of Asia...again the food thing. My husband is fascinated with OUT THERE. I am so entranced with much of the old south where many of the first settlers landed. I was treated to a tour of a preserved (not restored) Plantation in South Carolina and was enthralled. Even in Utah, the human spirit and determination which founded America is amazing to me. To be fair, most parts of Europe and Asia just was THERE....we had to journey here and MAKE it. Of course we destroyed indigenous people....which cannot be ignored...but I want to see HERE and understand. I am tired of feeling like This is The Place truly is.

12) I want friends again. I have tons now. But someone to walk through the aisles of Target looking through the clearance bins and laughing.

13) I want a job which makes me glow. Years ago, I was an "usher" in a farmers market. I basically helped set up, direct people, empty trash cans and tear down at the end of the day. What a job! The hazelnut people were my favs!

14) I want to teach. The other day a friend had me over & I showed her how to make a dish of mine which she really liked. Was fun. I am not a great cook, but gosh it is fun to show people how easy it is.

15) I want to be vulnerable & love again. Laugh....I blame alot of things for this my greatest loss. Poor friendships, miscommunications with my husband, being in management, the state of Utah (laugh, why not) and my dumb ass upbringing. I miss this alot.

So there is my list. Definitely doable.

Where you live

We just returned from Seattle. I am a Navy brat who ended up in the PNW whereas Mike started out in the South & ended up in SoCal. We are both water babies living in the High Mountain Desert area. Talk about fish out of water...

Arriving in Seattle it was a rare sunny day. What strikes me about going from a small town to a city is the ugliness. Regardless of the area, the cityscape surrounding the airports is sometimes dank. What was awesome is we got lost getting from the car rental place to the highway & ended up in the most forest lined neighborhoods. I was relieved to feel HOME. I miss the PNW with the force of the first night away from home at 10 years old. It is not a wistful memory laden past seeking yearning, it is an honest sigh of returning to a place where your heart is at peace.

Mike had found a place I had never been to of course EAT. I sat amongst the Seattle cool people waiting for the cafe to open & I felt sad...I don't do this in Utah. Sit in line at a cool place reading Henry James....I felt at a loss. Then I remembered that if I would have continued to live in Seattle and would have stood in a line waiting for something, I would have MOCKED the person reading Henry James. I felt relieved.

The best part of my visit was the coast. My brother caught me standing in the middle of his neighborhood street standing face up in the misty rain. "Um, you ok?". Joyfully at peace I assured him I was fine. I explained later we truly live in the desert. I don't think they got it. Mike stood fishing off my brother's dock all day. My brother pointed out to me Mike's left side which was soaked due to the wind and rain. I understood both my husband's peace in the rain and my brother's incredulity of Mike's lack of concern for the rain.

Walking around Seattle reminded me of the joys of city living. The little interesting parts of city walking which lightened my heart. Even looking back I was thinking that Salt Lake doesn't offer those quirks....I have walked the city. I am now vocal about moving back to the place where my heart is quiet with joy.

Needs

Funny how things happen. Regardless what any religion professes, things do happen for a reason.

I heard an interview on NPR from a Rabbi who was talking about his previous book entitled "When Bad Things Happen to Good People". He described his view of God. Meaning is he a benevolent being who watches over us constantly or is he a vengeance seeking entity who searches for the evil in all of us. The Rabbi said that his image of God is a Father who created a family and watches helplessly as things out of his control happen.

I like that. We worry way too much what God is doing as he evaluates us for the afterlife. TODAY is what we live for.

This is leading up to getting my hair cut & talking about choosing our environment and your experiences. We were both talking about de-funking our lives. It just hit me that we are in funks because we forget to workout to enhance our spirit....like skipping metaphysical yoga class too many times in a week. God that made me laugh....my little weakling spirit on a squishy mat contorting to gain strength....sweating its little spiiritual heart out next to the fully advanced spirit and feeling a little less than spiritual in comparison, yet making it into its little vehicle &n swearing off spiiritual yoga for a while.

We do give up spiritual working out almost like we don't feel we need a daily focus. But that is what makes us stronger and grow. (LAUGH, I mistakenly typed GROWL......freudian?)

Stuff

So I have been looking for things which bring me joy. You laugh at that idea, but for a quasi workaholic who has put everyone else's needs before her own since she was 8....joy is hard to find alone!

I bought a grow light. Coming from the PNW that seems absurd. I mean, hell...you stand still long enough moss does grow on you in the PNW. In the High Mountain Desert area, things are different. I am adapting. When I left Seattle I broke a relationship which was damaged irreperably. Molbaks. I cannot explain the joy I would feel making the drive on a Sunday to see what they had. This wasn't the yuppie one in Seattle,this was the real one out in what was then the wilds of Redmond...actually I can't recall the city, I recall the african violets. As with everything, it starts with my mother. She grew household plants without effort. She could not get african violets to bloom. I may be misquoting, but I think they are from the orchid family. Mom could grow them but could not get them to bloom.

With one of the first trips to Molbaks, I found some violets. HEH HEH HEH....I got my little pots and went to town. Mom had to give me advice....and I took it. Put them in clay pots and then water from the bottom. She was adament about that. I can't recall why, it doesn't matter why because I did it. They grew. So I felt enlivened. I went back to Molbaks, and they had different varieties...and I got them. Centuries ago in my first job this amazing woman got me intrigued with the different varieties of violets. Of course you have no idea of the varieties, but my mom and this wonderful woman who decided to make violets her retirement passion....I grew to know them as well.

Molbaks is difficult to describe. It is pretty much a comprehensive garden store which over the years chose to upscale their stock and yuppified their property. Want a plant? Why not get an imported pot to impress someone, AND we have cards that will suit every occasion. Yup....I was in love. As I found impressive success with BLOOMING violets I branched out and got different varities. My favorite was a deep purple flower with a white line around the leaves. Stunning.

When I left Seattle I had about 8 seasoned and mature plants. I couldn't move them in the van nor take them on the plane. I truly was devastated. Every once in a while, I ask my friend Anna how they are doing to which she replies with amazement that they still grow!

Totally different world here. The afternoon sun actually scorches plants in a window sill. I really do have blackout curtains to stem the damage the sun can do. It is amazing. But I have found little to no success gardening. I gave up. Until last year. I wanted herbs. I took that desire and lamely attempted to grow herbs in the best light in the basement (it made sense at the time). Yah....didn't work.

A few weeks ago I bought a grow light. Yup...I started my little herb garden praying it worked. An hour in the morning and a few after work I would lovingly water my little pots and make sure the light nursed the hidden seeds to success. I will say my doglets had unnatural curiosities about the pots. I did threaten whichever of the leglifters peed on my plants, they would not enjoy mommas anger.

With flagging enthusiasm I turned on the glow light two nights ago. Splashed a bit of water on them & went to the computer & television. Something struck me as odd....I looked at the pots...and there was GREEN! Yup, I am in the gardening realm again. It is such a huge excitement to me to see the little sprouts break out in the dirt. AWESOME. Let them grow...next time, violets!

Fluffy has left us!

I think to most people who know me they are caught unawares by the revelation that I started out professionally to be a preschool teacher and write childrens books. To be fair, I was good. With the codependency habits which permeate my life, caring for children doesn't seem to be a huge stretch.

During a school evaluation, I will never forget a professor tell me that "it would be a mistake if I ever left the field of children's education". It is with huge regret that I did leave the field. At the time (early 20's) regret wasn't the main feeling. Making a wage which paid for my Renault LeCar seemed way more lucrative.

There are times when the way I enjoy children becomes apparent. A while ago, I visited a friend with 3 children. The middle girl has an amazing personality...somewhat highsgtrung, but very intuitive and full of opinion (imagine that I feel connected to the child!). I make it a rule not to give opinions about kids because I don't have kids. But one thing I have kids do is Please and Thank You. You don't have a choice with me & your kids. So I am sitting talking to Mom and leafing through a magazine of dolls. Maya sits next to me telling me to go back to a page....more of a demand. "Please" i reinforce. Not having it. I plainly look at Maya and say "As soon as you say Please, we can do that". She gruffs, walks off, and tries to be more agitated. "You know what to say". As I continue to talk to Mom, she shoots me a look I know will scare her future children....I continue to with what I am doing. Maya returns to me, sits on the stool and defiantly blurts out "PLEASE" with all the frustration a 4 year old can muster. I calmly say "Thank you" and do as we had agreed. This goes on for 15 minutes. Eventually her anger and my determination work together and we become buddies. Months later, Mom confesses to me that if Maya is a little determined agains what Mom wants, she asks a racaltracent (sp?) Maya "Do you wnat me to call Heather?". Maya fearfully complies.

Today I enjoyed a treat from my husband as my house was getting cleaned. A coworker of mine, his wife coordinates a cleaning company. Holly & I talked for a bit & she mentiones she wants me to see her girls, Madeline & Olvia. Madeline has a soft place in my heart for when she visited us as a precocious 4 year old. My dogs tend to jump on people and lick their faces. I was holding Maya's older sister (6 years old) as she was intimidated by the dogs....Madeline walked straight through the gate, gave a withering look to the dogs & stopped them with "Down doggies, down". With that edict, the dogs never bothered Madeline. The child in my arms looked at me & asked "How old is that little girl?" I responded 4, the next statement was delivered with a factual yet resigned tone "Can you put me down please?'. The next thing I know I hear "Hey Lady" and I turn to see Madeline with welding goggles on and a bucket of sidewalk chalk "Theres a bouncy thing down here, can I play on it?". Honestly I cannot say where she got the goggles, but I barely got the mini trampoline upstairs for the kid without dropping it and peeing because I was again laughing at her assurannce.

So now Madeline is 8 and I am relaying the story. I look to Olivia who is now 5, but she has a binky. I was laughing. Mom went to check on her employees, and I walked the girls around my front yard. I cut them each a daffodil as Madeline explained not to touch the staemin as they pollenate. Olivia said something & I said, "Take the binky out, I can't understand you". She complied. After cutting just the right pollenating flower for mom, I notice both girls bent over. Olivia was saying something and again I reiterated to take the binky out. I mentioned to Olivia that 5 year olds shouldn't have binkies. Madeline ever so wordly stated "Yah, even I gave up my binkies when I was 4! (imagine her hands on her little 8 year old hips).

It turns out they were looking at the ONLY lawn ornament I have....a patinaed tin whimsical frog who when openedm holds a candle. Olivia is saying something, I repeated my binkie warning. She complied patiently (as I am sure she has been asked hundreds of times) and says the frog is cool. I look at Olivia and ask her if she wants the frog. Her eyes alight, "Really?". "Yes" (i say in my calmest Ursula voice) "but you have to give me your binkie". She quickly put her binkie in her mouth & fearfully shakes her head. "Ok. Let's get in the car so you can leave when mommy comes back". I calmly walk away. I feel something brush my bum.

As I type that statement, I cannot explain the curiousity some children have with pudge. Mom is pretty thin son it is somewhat of a new situation for them. There are times when I am tentatively prodded by curious children just to figure out what pudge feels like. I try to explain what it is but yet not make it disrespectful for the next pudgy person they encounter. I look to see Olivia "Are you touching my tushie". The big eyes look at me. Madeline chimes in "She is giving you her binkie". Really? Hmmm....let's check this out. I am aware of the charms of the 4-8 year old children.

"If I give you the frog, you need to give me your binkie." I cautioned. Laughingly, Madeline stepped in "She has a whole bunch at home". By now little Olivia has the frog in her arms, almost teetering as she takes "Fluffy (no lie, that is his name now) to the car. I nodded sagely at Madeline's warning.

"Olivia, this means no binkies even at home!" She nods begging me to carry Fluffy to the car. "Even when you go sleepy, no binkies". Gravely she feigns contemplation and nods. Fluffy gets nestled into the car...and I add the coup de gras...."Olivia, if you use a binky at home, Maddy will tattle on you!". Madeline sat straight up, emboldened with her charge and said "I will Olivia!".

By now Mom is out and staring increduously at the rusted frog in her car. "Why do I have a frog". I explained the bargain. In doing so, Madeline chimes in "I will make sure she doesnt use her binky".

Mom looked at me and warned I had been manipulated by a 5 year old. In my head, I was laughing that I was getting rid of the rusted frog. I said all is good, Mom told me she would return the frog, I reassured Mom that Fluffy is meant to go home with them.

I waved them off as they drove wondering as to Olivia's commitment to the ever sacred Pinkie Swear! I am sure time will tell, but I have certainly apologized to both Mom & Dad about Fluffy!

H

Do BMW's come with turn signals?

Great evening!

I was driving around today preparing for the FINAL day of birthday month for my husband, and inadvertently was following a BMW. We made a couple of turns together even left hand agains traffic...no signals.

I have prejudices. They are based totally on previous exeriences or my insecurities. DUH....thus how prejudices grow. I just embrace mine! So, people with expensive cars are below the mundanities of signalling regardless of the situation. They (love that word) also are ENTITLED to speed regardless of our speed. There are no rational examples for my feelings but this guy bugged me, GOOD GAWD.....are you wacking off or can you bloody well signal? Yes that was a rant. My brother and his wife have always had a BMW. My sister in law used to find it entertaining to turn the BUTT WARMERS on to near roasting. My brother did it to me on our last trip together. Good gawd people, it isnt that cold. Sigh....on the other hand....my husband drives a limping 86 Toyota pick up (which we just doubled the value on by adding brake fluid). Does that give him the right to totally do what he wants? Sometimes out of pity yes...I am just damned glad the little bugger starts, until we are done renting kids & paying off debt...I hover over her & pray each winter night for her survival.

Laugh

My Dawg and Aerobics

I am not an active person. Good, bad or heinous it is a fact. So I am trying. Well, doing more specifically. A little quasi aerobics/walking. There is a way skinny & perky woman on tv who congratulates me on a great decision. It is helpful.

I am downstairs in my basement/space to do this. At the top of the stairs is a baby gate. A closed one to be specific. For a purpose. A few years ago.....I enjoyed a mini trampoline. Loved it. Apparently two of my three did as well. As I am bouncing away the calories....I have a dog in between my legs enjoying the bounce. I can definitely imagine the fun they had...as I worked and they bounced. Bo was the first...though I think I am to blame because I put him on the tramp. Him being my dog, freaked OUT at something new, got off then watched before he jumped on again. Not to be outdone, when Daisy saw Bo enjoying himself, SHE had to stop that and take over. She was a bit too impatient to really do anything other than interrupt Bo and gloat. THe first few times it was funny. I mean, who does not enjoy a good bounce. It was funny to enjoy their bouncing but straddling a dog & attempting to gain some exercise from the activity.

Knowing that, I made sure I locked the gate. Luke was stunned! He jumped on the gate & asked "Why can't I come?". I mean who can deny those eyes. Every such a doggie wimp, Mike said "You know he would be ok down there". Luke looked at me and said "Yah...I would be GREAT down there!". So the gate opened for Luke. And to be fair, he sat on a chair and watched. And watched. And watched. Because I am sooo insecure about exercising I watched his eyes look at me, then look at the skinny walking woman and then look back to me. Without judgement he said "We don't do this. WE chase balls! This is silly". As the skinny woman congratulated me on making a great decision....Luke smirked.

As I walked....yes walked....Luked towards the stairs. I heard it too and had been hoping to put it out of my head with my focus. Yah...Bo was pleading to be let in. Still in power walk mode, I snuck up the stairs an dushered my oldest down stairs before Daisy could hear. UP...I said...in between breaths....meaning that they needed to get up on the furniture. Yah....didn't happen. Bo sat down outside of my arm reach and watched....me....as I walked. Made it very tough to do my side steps. And to be worse, my ever so supportive and out of the way middle one, Luke...sat too. They both walked around me waiting for me to either sit or play. Neither one of them were supportive at this point. But I was committed to finishing....with or without a canine approval or review. Still in my power walk I rushed them both upstairs.

I have my love for the boys, but at some point...keeping myself in the ZONE superceded maternal doggie love. The sad thing is that if I do this nightly (if not walk at work) then this drama could be a nightly tableau!