balance.

balance has many different meanings. my life is very balanced. not in the sense that my checking account has every been reconciled, there is not an even distribution of weight (or responsibility) around the house, and we don't always stay on a well balanced diet. but i'm balanced in the sense of ... i can walk on a tightrope, carry a baby, write an email, wrangle a teenager, drink a cup of coffee, and kick down a door all at the same time. it's like the guy at the circus that rides a unicycle with a bunch of plates on his head while juggling and whistling. if our balance is every messed with, disaster prevails. you don't steady a waitress balancing seven plates in her arms; you don't mess with her balance.

i learned a valuable lesson about balancing energy this last week. with some energy work and devil stones, someone tried to balance my unbalanced energy and i crashed. like someone falling off their bike going down a mountain. i rolled and rolled down the mountain until finally i hit the bottom. then, the people there that picked me up and brushed me off, sent me on my unbalanced way. and everything is okay again.

except for these rocks. i still need to destroy the devil rocks.

8 Days of Karma

Day 1: Soooo, I am going to have our marketing assistant pick you up from the airport, then I'll make you stay in the break room until I'm off five hours later, and then we'll eat steaks and drink clear-colored shots of cranberry-whiskey.

Day 2: Today I am going to leave you at my house for 18 hours while I work. You'll spend the day starving, watching my children, and meeting my mother. I'll come home with some amazing news (and a hitch-kick): MY ENERGY HAS BEEN BALANCED! Then I will pull rocks out of my bra and pocket explain how my life has forever been changed by rafiki.

Day 3: Day three will include sleep drunk me (with incredible rocks still on my person). Again, I will starve you until I get home and you get to meet my significant other. Later he will start an argument that involves accusations of me showing off for my friend. Warning signs about the energy rocks begin to surface as clarity returns.

Day 4: What I promised to be our best day yet on day four turns into a 3-hour trip to Walmart, an intervention about the devil rocks, me taking a 4 hour nap while you are entertained by aforementioned significant other, and then a less than fun trip on the new, exciting, and convenient Frontrunner to see a Sundance film about how rafiki caused a massage therapist to be repulsed by touching anyone, and of course below freezing temperatures as we wait for the 1:27 AM return train that never came, followed by an hour cab ride to Provo and going to bed at 7AM.

Day 5: Pajamas, talking, and football sounded like a dream come true until an emergency trip to Farmington was in order that included an impressive display of immaturity and humiliation, served with a side of salmon, asparagus, and sponge cake.

Day 6: So, you don't mind driving my baby to Logan, right? I mean, I only have to work for a little while .... ? Sounds like a great vacation to me! Oh first, will you stop and buy pepto for my pee butt? Great, thanks. At least it ended with delicious sushi and normal conversation, and some good shopping was involved.

If Karma survives the crash course of my life, we'll be bonded forever. If she changes her phone number or gets a no contact order, I'll understand that too.

Tomorrow we will determine a safe way to dispose of the devil rocks and I'll probably ask her to clean my house or remove an ingrown hair from my bikini line.

Not if, but when

I know the day will come when women are treated fairly and equally. I hope my daughters are part of that movement. Still, the biggest question I have is why aren't women treated equally? When did it all start? Who made it okay? I won't go off on this topic, but it's something to think about. Maybe we should seek restitution or something.

beavers, politics, and lockouts

over the last week and a half, Lu has decided that her bed time is from 10pm to 12am with party time starting at 1am and lasting until 6am, which is when i have to wake up. as a result, i have been getting very little sleep and am totally sleep deprived. missing four or five nights of sleep makes me crazier than usual. last night i thought i saw a real live beaver dart across my bedroom. you know when the hallucinations start, it's getting serious.

i have tried to write but since my brain can't even figure out what day it is, there have been many failed attempts and several pages being written and then deleted. just crap. but i have been super productive in other ways. for example, i have caught up on some awesome Facebook action. it's prime time for some good reading thanks to the upcoming election. it blows my mind what people think and have no problem saying in a public forum.

i have genuinely tried to avoid posting anything about politics because, well, first of all, it's setting myself up for a barrage of insults from angry republicans; and second of all, i would much rather post about hard hitting issues like ice cream and oil changes. THAT SAID ... i did post two incredibly long essays in response to comments made on my mother's page and my sister's page because the dialogue was almost as disturbing as seeing a 400 lb, extremely hairy, blind man sitting on my toilet (another sleep deprivation hallucination). i just can't believe that people are so ignorant and quick to blurt out things they've heard on tv with the intent of insulting someone else.

for example, my little sister had to have an emergency root canal and her insurance hasn't kicked in yet. somehow that turned into one of her "friends" in the military criticizing her. huh?

"nothing like going to the dentist at 7am and finding out you have to have a root canal. and with no insurance."

how is that perceived as any kind of political statement or invitation to discuss politics? it sparked some of the stupidest things i've ever heard a grown man say and TRUST ME, i've heard a lot of men say some REALLY stupid things. and not just stupid, but bitter and mean.

the other one? some 50 year old lady on my mom's wall called Obama "Owe-Butt-Wad" in her very intelligent tirade regarding Kool Aid drinkers and God. and blah blah blah. what in the hell? people aren't even talking about the fundamentals anymore. it's all about "you're an asshole because you don't agree with me" and "you're a lazy piece of crap because you don't have health insurance." it is annoying and it makes me want to ram my car into the house.

i also wrote a very insightful piece on college football in the state of Utah and how awesome it will be to watch USU beat BYU next week. this is all very exciting stuff that happens in the middle of the night. what else? oh, i bought a mini van on ksl.com, and i played some kick ass games of scrabble. so, not all bad.

in other news, i am happy to be the first to report that the NFL has finally reached an agreement with the locked-out officials. a few hours ago, the deal was made and officials will be back for tonight's games. so that's pretty sweet. anyway, that's all i got. i'm going to see if i can get this vampire baby to go to sleep. my next post will probably focus on the rise and fall of Vince Young. or oppression in the workplace. i haven't decided.

i'm not a unicorn

this post is about the chimera of chivalry. and it's going to be all over the place...

i went to the Walmarts tonight because i was long overdue to buy a lawnmower. i hated doing it but i couldn't find a decent lawn service and i was over borrowing lawn mowers and Sears didn't have the one i wanted and Home Depot was confusing ... etc etc. (enthralling, right.) anydamnway, i paid for a lawnmower online and went to pick it up. they had it ready; a ginormous box balancing on a tiny shopping cart: "here you go."

i guess i had been staring for some time at the teetering box because the sales rep finally interrupted my musing of possible catastrophic events that would ensue getting the box to my car, let alone home. you know, the box falling off the cart, parts shattering everywhere, a blade taking my right leg off, regretting not buying the extra Protection Plan.

"does that look like the right one?" Chotchie asked.

"yeah. heh. i mean, now if i can just get it home and figure out how to put it together," i answered. really? these things don't come assembled?

"ah, i bet it's not that hard." thanks for the encouragement, Chotchie.

i managed to get the damn thing to my car, in my car, and i managed to get the beast home. i even managed to put it together. the technical writing in the owner's manual was ridiculous but i carefully put the correct oil in, filled it with gas, i choked and throttled, and i mowed the lawn. but i did some thinking as i mowed and i got really annoyed.

what in THE hell is wrong with people? okay, i was wearing a wife beater and cut off jean shorts. and yes i did have dirt all over myself from gardening. i didn't look my best; i'm actually a little embarrassed by my hair situation even for Walmarts, but what in the fuck? i am 110 lbs. and i am a lady. and even if i was 310 lbs. or a lady with a mustache, at least give me the "respect your elder" card.

the way i was taught, this is how it should have gone down:

"here you are. let me get someone to help you out to your car with this. in fact, if you'll pull your car around back, we can load it right away" Chotchie would say.

"oh, why thank you! i was wondering how i was going to roll it out of the store. i sure hope i can figure out how to put it together," i would reply.

Chotchie would look appalled and exclaim, "why, a sweet little lady like you shouldn't put a lawnmower together, let alone lift it alone! you make your husband do it. or, i'd be happy to assemble it for you right here if you'd like?"

i realize it's not the Ritz Carlton but come on.

this issue whole issue of how men view women has been surfacing a lot lately. and it's not necessarily about chivalry, it's about common courtesy, respect, innate goodness. here are two more examples.

boardroom at my office for company-wide meeting: 25 chairs. 18 filled by men (most under 27) and 7 by women. and at least 10 women standing up or sitting on THE FLOOR. (this had happened before at a pizza party where i sat on the floor in a skirt and was a little taken aback.) this time, i sent my boss a text: "18 guys in chairs out of 25. disgusting." of course he didn't respond and i'm sure he hates me now for being such a "feminist." but then again, he was one of the men sitting down.

second example: talking to some guys about the issue. can't remember how it came up. something about opening doors for women. and i open doors for men. i don't really feel strongly about it. i also would offer my seat on a bus, in a crowded room, in the park for someone older than me, male or female. anyway, one of the guys said, "listen, you can't have it both ways. you can't have your independence and all these rights AND be treated like that. you have to pick one." i asked him what he meant by independence and all "these rights". he said "things like, being paid the same as men, holding top positions in companies, having someone take care of you..." i burst out laughing. i found this interesting because last time i checked women DON'T and NEVER HAVE been paid as much as men for the same positions; we don't hold nearly as many executive roles; we aren't taken seriously nor are we respected; and i pay all my bills, support both my daughters alone, do all the yard work, change the oil in my car, cook, clean, AND put together a freaking lawn mower. i don't bitch about not having a door opened or a guy expecting me to pay for a dinner he invited me to, and i STILL don't get a motherloving seat in the boardroom. (is it contradictory to say that i didn't really want one nor would have i accepted one, i just wanted it to be offered? to other ladies even?)

i thought about my grandpa. he taught me about hard work. he taught me how to farm, get up early, take care of myself, and work my ass off. but he also taught me how a lady should be treated. he treated my grandma like a queen. she was a hard worker, but every dinner she cooked, every contribution she offered the house, every bed she washed and made, was appreciated. and she never paid for a meal, opened her door, or was insulted without my grandpa knocking someone out.

i don't know the answer. i don't know if i just live in the wrong place ... maybe the wrong era? and i know there are good guys out there. but it seems like we are getting farther and farther away from the beauty of what makes men good and women gentle. it makes me sad. while i put my lawnmower together, i just knew my grandpa was whispering, you're tough, you deserve better but you are happy, be lucky you can do it alone. i love you.

Five Things I Need

1. Love letters with just the right amount of sentiment.

2. Kisses with no ulterior motive or simultaneous boob grab.

3. Alone time.

4. Someone who appreciates me instead of competing with me.

5. To be treated like a lady; doors opened, compliments; dates; occasional flowers; thoughtful gifts; protection.

big ideas

big ideas? i have them.
i'm full of them.
one big burst that carries me for a couple of days (maybe weeks) and then ...
no follow through.
some might say it's a flaw but i am more inclined to say it's a beautiful childlike quality that i refuse to let go of.
one day, all the scribbled notes, stacks of books, papers, drawings, scraps, and pictures will come together.
it's just not my time yet.
we're still in the swell season.

if the irony isn't too much, wait for it.