Wednesday, May 10, 2006

I used to say things, and do things, and Jesus said I was evil...

I was asked earlier if I've climbed delicate arch...
I’ve been in the shadow of the Delicate Arch!
Palm pressed to its massive leg,
I have stared up at the shadows of its curves and felt the shiver of my precarious position.
It’s the most breathtaking,
heart stopping,
eye-sparkling place I’ve ever been.
It’s this giant-amazing-huge-beautiful arch,
you’ve seen the pictures,
but at the front it drops down into this huge bowl of red rock, deep and far and scare-the-poo (and not the Winnie kind)-out-of-me bowl.
It’s terrifying, really.
The sensation of knowing that one misstep could tumble me head over heels over head over rock to the bottom of it...
and on the other side it drops off hundreds of feet--
a sheer cliff to the canyon floor.
I have always pictured myself framed by that arch in a white dress with my heart in a tux, both of us shoeless,
but when the time came, it didn’t seem practical.
Too far for everyone to go, etc.
We had a schooner reserved for the ceremony, in Maine, but stoooopid Lisa had to check the Farmer’s Almanac,
which said there would be a hurricane
(that word took me 3 tries. What the hell??)
so we canned it and got married in the courtyard of the hotel we had booked for the reception.
It was lovely, but.
I’m thinking ten year anniversary we do the whole silly renew-the-vows thingy at both of the aforementioned locations.
Inviting our closest Utah friends to the Moab one, and my family to the Maine one.
(crazy blog friends may choose whichever location suits them. Har.)
Ok, well THAT was quite the tangent.
I’m sunburned, just a bit, and fully of amazing spicy Italian chicken and shrimp pasta stuff and tiramisu and not-wine, but also not-whine (from the littles, who I actually took to a GROWN UP restaurant for the first time) which was priceless and wonderful.
I just prowled through my dictionary because I couldn’t bring the word “precarious” to mind—boy oh boy does that piss me off.
Anyway, as I was looking, I stumbled upon a fabulously underused word: pet-cock.
It is a tool...hehehe...used to open a valve in PLUMBING!!!!!!!!!!
That is priceless.
I shall just sit and enjoy that for a moment.

I saw a guy shopping in the women’s section of the department store I was ruthlessly pillaging today.
A tall, angular young man.
At first I thought, oh how nice, he’s buying a gift.
Then my eyes slipped down his body and caught just a flash of a high-heeled shoe sticking out from his non-descript jeans.
It wasn’t a man’s heel, like a cowboy boot or a boot of possible masculine origins.
It was a pointy-toed, pointy-heeled shoe.
A women’s shoe too girlie for ME.
My heart broke in the partial second it took me to process the image,
for living in Utah, and being different is never easy,
no matter how comfortable a person may be with who he or she is,
and at that age, most of us weren’t comfortable with who we were even if that identity was
girl-next door, sweet as can be, straight A, virgin cheerleader!
(...what? So my life sounds idyllic on paper. It never felt that good up close and in the throes of insecure teenagehood...)
I just wanted to go hug him and offer to take the stuff to the dressing room for him so he wouldn't have to ask for a room with skirts and halter tops in his hands.

Ok, so back to the dinner and the shopping--
two events separated by most of the day, but two highlights, nonetheless.
I FINALLY got my parents their birthday presents...(2 and 1 months late, respectively)
and I also managed to acquire...
the most delectable leather bag, with a long cross-body strap and a billion-jillion pockets, including enough room for at least one notebook, so I'll probably use it for my school bag from now is...really soft and thick and...the lining is a wonderful deep maroon and it smells like leather (uh, cuz it IS, dummy) and...yum.
I also got some perfectly pretty little sandals and a wreathy thing to put on my front door...because...
maybe it was time to exchange the very-obviously fall-themed one for something a bit more seasonal?
And I got a pretty little soft red leather bound journal and a yoga poses/routines book, both for my dear new twin mommy.
She is really a wonderful woman/girl.
she's only 22, so it's hard to call her a woman...sorry.
she has to relax, though, huh, Nancy? Or she's going to burn herself out.
She has boy/girl twins, and the girl is as smiley and content as could be, but the boy is just a fussy little thing--which means he gets more attention, and it weighs on her, the guilt...
oh, we know that drill, Nancy Dancey, yes we do.
Anyway, the books are drops in the bucket of what she needs to replenish her soul right now, but they'll have to do.
And what else...hmm...nothing worth mentioning, I think.
Some pants for hubby...hehe...
this morning he almost-crossly asked where all his pants were.
He carried on a bit about how they weren't in the dirty-clothes hampers,
nor were they hanging up.
I was busy getting ready or getting the kids ready or something, so I just kept shrugging.
Finally he located them.
In the hamper that "no one ever uses!"
This was...rather chuckle-inducing, if I do say so.
See, here's my laundry system:
one for whites
one for darks
one for mediums
one for towels
That's how I separate my wash, so I like to have one hamper for each; less sorting to do when laundry time comes, eh?
He never actually sorts his laundry, though, and only rarely throws everything hastily into whichever basket he trips and lands near when I've loudly hinted that if he doesn't he'll be wearing dirty clothes.
So it just really cracked me's not that "no one" uses it, sweet man, it's that you didn't know it was there.
It's all good.
So anyway, there was a great sale on some nice pants, they had his size some good colors, etc so I bought them.
On my way home, I thought of how funny it would be to present him with them and say something like, "Cuz I'm NOT doing your laundry today!"
But, he's not home.
So I haven't had a chance yet.

Also I bought some new booster seats for the car.
Much easier to get the kiddos into and out of.
Praise the jeebus.

I love shopping.

I love bouncing and
and bouncing and
bouncing and bouncing
while my little angel-devil boys drill me with the most magnificent questions.
I need to make a video of those conversations (not the bouncing boobs, pervos)
because I forget sometimes, to be astouded by their level of insight-seeking.
Oliver asked what happened when all the grown ups were babies, and there weren't any other grownups did they get born?
holy fuckity ma-jeeezus, I barfed out the Cliffs Notes of Adam & Eve, but it left me somewhat light-headed. barfing is wont to do...
just kidding.

who here would vote that I should risk a nuclear family war to attend a rock star party in Death Valley next week?
I know...
it sort of shatters the edges of my soul just to acknowledge that I could be there, if.
I've lost my edge anyway.
Gone soft, and not just in the middle.
Maybe I should just be a mom and a wife and a suburbanite.
Those are all good things.
Except for the last one.
It makes me shudder and squirm...
and not in those best of ways...

I am happy and glowy and happily busy.

I will be visiting an endocrinologist
it seems that my family doctor doesn't want to handle my thyroid the way I feel it should be handled.
He cannnnnNOT
switch my meds every goddamn month.
(right, Mona?)
He needs to give my body a chance to actually adjust.
He's switching me DOWN.
Last time I was on a dose this low, I felt like a walking yawn.
At least I was walking, eh?
So I'm taking matters into my own hands.
fuck him.
or the horse he rode in on; your choice.

Ok...I'm going...
Goodnight lovers and liars and ladybug dancers!

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