Everyone is putting as their Facebook status how excited and happy they are that summer is here and their kids don't have school anymore. "No more arguing about homework or bedtimes! YAY!"

Uhhh... I don't feel like that.

In fact, I feel quite the opposite.

I would rather have to nag my kids about doing their homework and transport them hither and yon than have them here begging me to act as their summer-time cruise director.

Besides, I rarely have to nag them to go to bed at a decent hour-- they are all early birds.

Don't get me wrong. I am the consumate sun worshiper-- I love the hot weather, the swimming, the BBQ's and the long days.

However Julie McCoy I ain't. 

The fact that I am not looking forward to summer vacation makes me feel like a loser mother, too. What kind of mother doesn't get all excited and joy-filled that she will have her angel-buns around for the entire summer.

Me. That's who.

Wanna know why?

1. The stupid Ice Cream Man. He comes like 47 times a week. And you can't buy only one time and not the next 46 times because the kids? They have elephant brains and they remember everything. Right down to every single ice cream you bought and they have no problem reminding you every single time he comes. All 47 of them.

I am really starting to hate the ice cream man.

2. The incessant "I'm bored." I can only repeat "Only boring people get bored" so many times before I start to wonder myself about that load of crap. I am bored of hearing them say they are bored.

3. The lack of schedule. The school year brings a schedule to my life that I need. Summer sucks it right out of me. My kids think that the word Summer Vacation also means "Chore Vacation" and the fighting that occurs when I ask them to pick up their stinky socks is about more than I can handle.

4. The food. My freaking heck, the food. They are eating me out of house and home during the school year. I am horrified to think how astronomical my food bill is going to be this summer with two growing teenagers. All they do is eat. They eat from the time they get up until they close their eyes-- mid chew-- at night. The little kids are just as bad. Moxie is the biggest grazer I have ever seen. That kid eats all the live long day.

5. The fighting. Oh my laws, the fighting. They argue about everything. "She's breathing my air!" "She's breathing too loudly!" Seriously. All day long they argue. About the dumbest stuff, too. It doesn't matter how many times I ground them or send them to their rooms for the rest of their natural born lives... they will argue the minute they get out of their rooms. It makes me want to hide in mine and suck my thumb.

6. The late nights. I'm super old, people. I need my sleep. My kids? They turn into crazy vampire children in the summer time. They want to sleep all day and party like vampire rock stars all night long. By 10:00 I can hardly keep my eyes open and if I go much past 11:30 I feel like I have a giant no-sleep-hangover.

Not that I know what a hangover feels like, mind you.

7. The disorganized MESS that becomes my house. The kids disrobe the moment they walk into the house, leaving their crap right where it lands. No matter how many times I remind them that taking their clothes off in front of everyone is a no-no they leave it where it lands. People. I am tired of being the Crazyland maid. I need order. And structure. Summer takes both of things away.

8. Holy Laundry, Batman. Seriously. My little girls think that if a lady bug falls on them then they need to promptly change their clothes. I swear I do laundry from sun up to sun down and it still isn't done. I don't know why, but it is fifty-times worse in the summer.

9. Cruise Director Status. That was not in my job description. I don't want to have to entertain these monkeys 24/7. I want them to be self entertained. That may sound awful to those Mother-of-the-year types, but seriously? I get sick of playing "Kitty." I can only have my head petted so many times before I start wanting to kick someone.

10. Sleepovers. I hate sleepovers. And, my kids know this. We actually have a no-sleep-over-rule at our house (except for cousins and grandparents) and yet they still insist on asking us if they can have a sleep-over EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. It's like they're little alligators testing the electric fence we've built to keep them safe. "If we test the fence long enough she'll finally give in" is what I am certain they are plotting.

Don't get me wrong.

My kids are pretty great and I actually DO like being their Mom. I just dread the chaos that summer brings into a home where you have four vastly different age groups-- Teens, Pre-teens, Elementary and Pre-school. There is no way I can keep every single age group happy. Someone is going to be miserable. Or bored. Or irritated. Or left out.

Joy. Rapture.

Will the real Julie McCoy please stand up?

Thanks to Trop50 for sponsoring my writing about fabulous bloggers. This year Trop50 is granting 50 Fabulous Wishes. Click here to enter for a chance to win $1,000 to celebrate a friend with a refreshing attitude about looking and feeling fabulous!

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I have been thinking a lot lately about what blogging has done for me. It has given me a voice and has helped me sharpen my sense of humor. It has given me a place to record the day-to-day stages of my children so that when I have Alzheimer's I can have my kids read my blog to me and maybe I will remember— a la The Notebook.

But more than anything it has introduced me to some amazing people. I have been able to connect with women around the world in a way that I never would have been able to do had I not been blogging. Some of my dearest friends have come because of this crazy “emotional outlet”.

Caroline

She is one of the smartest women I know. Period. Her brain works in ways that mine doesn’t and she thinks differently than me. I love talking with her because she sees the details in everything. That woman has business sense and her creativity boggles my mind.

We met when she heard “through the grapevine” that I wanted a blog header. She sent me an email and said “I’ll re-do your blog for you—for free.” And that was how we started our friendship. I would email her. She’d email me back. Then I emailed her in the middle of the night one night about my hair-brained ideas for MMB and she said “Give me your phone number I am calling you right now.”
And now we talk on the phone every single day. Twice on Thursdays.

She cracks me up because people are scared of her. We have the good cop/bad cop routine down to a science and it makes me laugh. She makes me laugh and that’s one of the best qualities to have. She knows the in’s and out’s of my life—you have to when you are in business with each other and I can honestly say that not only is she my business partner, she is probably my best friend, too.

Veronica

She is one of the most peaceful women I know. She has a calming effect on me, and I love to be around her because of the way she makes me feel. She is grounded, centered, non-judgmental and never burns a bridge. Ever. But not only that, she is wicked smart.

I learned that after spending 12 hours in the car with her last November. We bounced idea after idea off each other and it was a veritable idea feast. Once we put or heads together we realized we shared the same brain and it was actually a pretty smart brain at that.

Our creative ideas feed off each other and when we brainstorm we come up with amazing marketing campaigns.She has also become one of my closest friends, and I simply adore her. Never mind the fact that she has kids the exact same age as my kids. That’s a bonus. Including a cute 16 year old boy that I am hoping will date my cute 16 year old girl (which totally freaks her out, btw).

Julie

Julie is one of the kindest people I know. She always looks for the good in people and always assumes the best about them. She will give you the shirt off her back, if she thinks it would help you out and never once expect anything in return.

She is also wicked smart and can code things like nobodies business. She is quiet and humble and has a soothing influence on me. Julie is fearless. If she wants something, she simply finds an email address and then sends an email. I was floored the first time she told me that. Who does that? Julie, that’s who. She has shared that confidence with me, and I am starting to become more fearless, with regards to emailing whomever I need to in order to get what I need.

Melissa

This girl is so freaking funny. She sends out the craziest emails in the middle of the night and I have to be careful to not read them while Jefe is sleeping. That is a quality that I greatly admire—the ability to make people laugh. And, Melissa has that quality. To this day, I can not walk through Wal-mart without remembering her post about how she prayed while she was there to not poop her pants. I seriously DIED when I was reading that. And then imagine Caroline reading her entire blog to you over the phone. I was praying I wouldn’t pee my pants. Melissa is funny, and under appreciated in that arena.

She is also one of the most talented graphic designers I have yet to lay my little eye-balls on. She made the MMB and CBC community and network logos for us, and I still look at them and swoon with love. I love how her mind works and how totally fast she can make something beautiful.

DeNae

She is like the older sister I never had. I met her when she asked to be added to the MMB Funny Ladies list and then sent me this hilarious post about the Israelites and “their time of the month”. Oh my goodness. I laughed so hard I thought I just might die. When I actually got her phone number I thought I had been accepted into the Celestial kingdom early.

She is solid. She is wicked funny and she is my dear friend. We text more than we don’t and I love that she gets my sense of humor. I have a weird one and she is right there next to me feeding me one liners faster than I can memorize them. She can take the most mundane thing and make it hysterical and then wax philosophical in the next breath and leave you begging for more.

But not only that she is my balcony person. She is always there, in the balcony of my life cheering me on. Everyone needs a person like that in their life, and DeNae is mine. I can tell her my hair-brained ideas and if they really are “out there” she reigns me in. If there is something to it, she tells me to work a little harder. She believes in me. And that means more to me than anything else.

That my friends is what blogging has done for me. It has brought this amazing group of women into my life—from D.C to Vegas to Oregon and Boise. I never would have been able to meet these amazing women, and talk over our proverbial back fences the way we do, if it weren’t for the medium of blogging.

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Don't forget to enter the 50 Fabulous Wishes contest for a chance to win $1,000 to celebrate a friend with a refreshing attitude about looking and feeling fabulous. I was selected for this Tropicana Trop50 sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective, which endorses Blog With Integrity, as I do. I received compensation to use and facilitate my post.

Remember how I lost my U2 tickets and completely lost my mind and acted like a lunatic?

Yeah. That was super fun. I was psycho.

Jefe took pity on me and bought me new tickets for Mother’s Day. I know, right? And, I totally cried again like a silly teenager.

It was embarrassing. And moving. And all sorts of awesome.

I have been gearing myself up for the big day tomorrow—planning, listening and planning some more.

Then I got the best idea I have had in a long time.

Seriously.

I get some hair-brained ideas, but this one? It beats them all.

I drove down to SLC to see if I couldn’t get a Lookie-Lou at the stage. And maybe my lover Bono, too. 
I tried to sneak into the stadium. I totally did. I tried. But, the nice old man security guard wouldn’t let me. He was very sweet and just said “Sweet heart. You can’t go in there.”

I could have taken him, if I had tried hard enough.

But I did something even better.

I made friends with Bono's Driver.

Yes.

Yes I did.

I totally made friends with Bono's Driver.



This is my new best friend, Lester.

I was coming around the corner and almost ran right into him. I immediately spotted his “keys to the kingdom” and asked him if he could get me in so I could just take a picture of the stage.

He smiled and kindly told me No.

I was a little bummed because really? It wasn’t like I asking him to get me into Bono’s dressing room so I could molest him. I just wanted a picture of the stage for my blog posterity's sake.

Then he asked me if I had a camera. I handed him my phone and said you can take whatever kind of pictures you want as long as they aren’t porn and you don’t call China. I showed him how to work my iPhone camera and then he proceeded to make his way back into the stadium.

Except that cute old man security guard stopped him, too.

I was really bummed because I was thisclose to getting a picture of the stage before anyone else did.
I looked at Lester and actually said “Dang. I would have totally kissed you if you could have gotten me a picture of the stage.”
 
Then my pal Lester whipped out his phone and said, grinning “I have lots of photos of the stage. If you’ll give me your number, I’ll text them to you.”

We walked back to my car and he texted me all sorts of sweet photos from the concert. BEFORE ANYONE ELSE HAS SEEN THEM.

                              
                           
He told me he would send me more tomorrow and he would try and get me one of:

{insert dramatic music here}

THE BAND.
 
He totally did.

He is going to try and get a photo with the band and text it to me.

I squealed with delight and thanked him a million times over.

And then?


I totally kissed him.

Right there in front of the stadium, 90-bajillion cars, the other crew members AND my kids.

I kissed a complete stranger-- BONO'S DRIVER!

I am an awesome Mom.

And my kids? They laughed about that all the way home. “Mom kissed a complete stranger because he gave her pictures of AN EMPTY STAGE!”

Thing 1 was horrified. And then I think also slightly impressed. She asked me if I can go anywhere without making friends.

Nope. Pretty much everywhere I go, I can make friends. I am like a snake charmer that way. When I want to be, that is, and I can charm my way into or out of just about any situation.

Except speeding tickets. And that is a whole ‘nother story for another time.

Long Live U2.

And Lester.

 It has been raining cats and dogs for the last five days. It stops for about seven minutes once a day, but then promptly starts back up. I have a bucket in the backyard that has been gathering the rain. The kids and I wanted to see how much rain has actually fallen at our house. The sad thing is that I can't find the freaking measuring tape to tell you. However, we did stick a Pen into the bucket, and it was covered with water to the middle of the pen. So, how ever many inches that is- is how many inches have fallen here in Crazyland.

Honestly? I'm sort of digging it.

It thummers and lippenings (as Moxie calls it) all night long and it is a pleasant way to sleep. I have an app on my phone that I can listen to that simulates those sounds, and when I sleep to that noise, I sleep like a baby. I love hearing the sound of rain.

*****
I went and saw Wicked last weekend, and it was just as wonderful as I remembered it to be. I'd actually never seen it before (except in 10 minute increments on youtube) but the kids and I have the music memorized and we love to sing and dance around the kitchen acting it out in our own ways.

I think that is some of my favorite memories of things the kids and I have done together. Singing and dancing in the kitchen to various soundtracks. We've got actions and everything. Nerdy? Why yes, thank you.


The other one we love to sing and dance to is Prairie Home Companion with Garrison Keillor. Their Powder Milk Biscuit song sends us into spontaneous bouts of Four Square Dancing. Skipping and hopping around the kitchen, locked in arms. Those are good memories.

*****
I have a very deep affinity and weakness for Broadway music. If I need to sing (which I often do to release stress) I sign Broadway music. It has healing powers to it, and I can feel my soul reparing as I belt out silly Broadway tunes.

This past weekend as I sat watching Wicked, I felt the only regret that I have in my life which is this: I didn't pursue my music. I have a pretty good singing voice and I can act about as good as Kristen Chenoweth, too. For reals. I had awesome stage presence. Just ask Braden. He'll tell you. We were on stage together on more than one occasion.

When I was younger, I always pictured myself standing there on the big stage, hitting those big notes and punctuating them with my awesome stage presence. My drama teacher used to tell us that it didn't matter if you could dance, just pick a high mark, and low mark and hit like you never hit anything and you will be the star of the stage. When I would do that it felt awesome!

Watching those people on stage, I could feel the music and I instinctively knew exactly when they would hit their "marks" It's an instinct and I was energized to realize I still had it.

I love to sing and I love to be on stage even more. Jefe thinks that is entirely bizarre and weird. I feed off it. The more people watching me, and listening to me the more energized I get. Being able to make people laugh is a drug for me. I love to laugh and I love to make people laugh.

Once it starts I need it like I need air.



I watch the videos of the Broadway shows and I see myself being the one singing up there on stage. I find it so therapeutic to belt out a tune or two. And then, I can move on with my day.

My dream? To sing on the big stage again. Just once. So my kids and husband can see that I'm not entirely delusional. Only mostly.

Watch this video with the 4 Valjeans from Les Misérables singing. If the hair on the back of your neck doesn't stand up, you are dead. And that last key change? Oh. My. Ovaries.



*****
Have a lovely weekend. My play list today is from my Broadway play list. The Tony's are coming up and I'm getting excited. Except for the fact that the stupid book of mormon musical got nominated for 14 Tony's. Which then makes me think I should boycott the Tony's so I don't have to witness it. I will admit that I have listened to the music-- and frankly? It sort of sucks.

Anyway. It's still raining here, and I'm going to spend the weekend trying to stay dry.


1. I'm Not That Girl - Wicked
2. Seasons of Love - Rent
3. That's How You Know - Enchanted (yes. its not a musical, per say... but its still awesome!)
4. Take A Chance On Me - Mama Mia
5. Someone Like You - Jekyll & Hyde
6. Waitin' for the Light to Shine - Big River
7. There Once Was A Man - Pajama Game
8. The Human Heart - Once On This Island
9. Anything Goes - Anything Goes
10. Who Loves You - Jersey Boys

Bonus: Bring Him Home - Les Miserables

Jefe told me the other day that I was on the prim-rose path to becoming a hoarder.

I know, right?

That sort of made me mad, because really? Me? A Hoarder? As if.

I’m more of a clutter person, than a hoarder person. I have piles and piles of crap and then when I get around to going through my piles, I stash things. Mostly in cupboards in the kitchen. Then I have to go through the cupboards and clean them out.


Watching the Hoarding: Buried Alive show sort of motivates me to not keep stuff. I mean seriously. Seeing them pull thirty-seven dead cats from a house will do that to you.
Not that I would ever actually HAVE thirty-seven cats.

I hate cats. I think they’re gross.

Truthfully, I sort of hate that show, too. But, it’s like watching a train wreck. Once you start you just. can’t. stop. watching. 

I’ll start watching and slowly find myself with my hands over my mouth with a horrified look on my face. At the commercial break, I’ll hurry and wash my hands. Then I’ll start picking up my room again, only to find myself again with the horrified look on my face. At the commercial break, I’ll wash my hands again and throw a bunch more stuff out. Rinse and repeat that cycle over and over again.

The last time I watched Hoarders, I totally cleaned out my closet and sent five bags of clothes to the D.I. and filled up two garbage bags full of junk.

Last weekend it started again.

Hoarders was on and Jefe was out of town. I did the rinse and multiple repeats of the hand-washing routine and then made the mistake of walking into my office—which could also be called “The Third Garage.”

It’s the dump all, catch all of our house and it looked GROSS.

I gasped and immediately started purging.

I Was Not Going To Become A Hoarder So Help Me Allah.

I took two - thirty gallon tubs full of books to the D.I.

I filled an entire jumbo garbage can full of old junk like: ripped up scrapbook paper from 2006, a box for a telephone I threw away two years ago and a binder for the La Leche League from when Thing 3 was born in 2003.

IN. CHICAGO.  

Yes, we totally moved the La Leche League binder thirteen hundred miles.

I know. I’m sick.

I also found a couple of Christmas presents that I had hidden in a box in the closet, so I let Moxie have them. Thing 1 wasn’t going to miss them anyway seeing as how she never even had them.

Then the most disturbing find of all. I found a twenty gallon see-through tub that was filled TO THE BRIM WITH . .

{insert dramatic music}
{dun dun dun dun}

FABRIC.

Lots and lots of fabric.

Like enough fabric that I could have made four king size quilts—Fabric.

People.

I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO SEW. 

Like AT. ALL. 

Gad-zooks! Jefe was right!

I was on the prim-rose path to hoarder-dom and it was paved with lots and lots of pretty FABRIC.

I admit it. I have a weakness for the stuff, but seriously? A TWENTY GALLON TUB FULL weakness?

See?  That’s how it starts, people.

You see some pretty fabric and think “I can totally make a baby quilt out of that.” Or “I think curtains would look quite lovely made with this print.” Or “That print would make the most adorable matching dresses for my girls.” And then it happens.

You find yourself on the Hoarding: Buried Alive show except it’s not the cat’s your buried with—It’s Fabric.

Lots and lots of pretty Amy Butler fabric.

And, I would totally be one of those people who cried because you wanted me to throw my fabric away, too.
But, I’m telling you right here and right now, I won’t do it.

I WON’T!

I like my fabric. It’s kind of pretty. And I need it. Or else I might die.

{now pardon me while I go wash my hands.}

{i'm not really a hoarder, either.} 

This post is in conjuction with The Broadcast Bloggers Campaign. Interested in monetizing your blog, send me an email and I'll hook you up.

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Provo Beach Resort

Stop numero tres came in the form of the latest greatest amusement spot around—Provo Beach Resort. When it’s snowing—on APRIL 30th – who doesn’t want to go to a place with the name BEACH in it? I love the beach and think I was meant to be a beach bum. Except I was born in the desert. And there’s no beach. Whatev.
Provo Beach Resort is swanky cool. They have an indoor carousel, a super cool ropes course—which would be really fun idea for a first date.  They also have an indoor croquet course as well as bowling lanes. 
If you’re a golfer, you will love the fact that they have an indoor driving range. You can practice your back hand…  Wait. I think that’s tennis. You can practice your golf . . . swing all year long. If you want to be the next Tiger Woods Golf guru then Provo Beach Resort is where you go!
The thing that really got me excited was the FlowRider Indoor Surfing. Seriously. How cool is that? You can pick up your swanky new suit at Called to Surf and then head over to the flow rider and  surf to your hearts content.
Or biff it, as would be the case for me.
I sat and watched all these old-ish dudes (ok. they were my age) surfing and they made it look so easy. But when they biffed it? They made it look oh. so. fun.
If I lived closer to this place, I would totally have MY next birthday party here. Especially since I could send the kids off surfing or croqueting and I could head to the spa for a pedicure and massage. What is better than NOT having to get a babysitter, the kids being happy and the Mom getting pampered? Uh, nothing.
Provo Beach Resort is seriously one of the coolest places I have been in a long time, and I really want to bring my kids back. They have these cards that you load with how much money you want to spend, and you can use them on the video games, bowling or flow rider—and when the cash is gone? It’s gone. No carrying around crappy tickets from the video games—everything is self contained on one card. Ingenious!

Malawi’s Pizza

The last stop on our tour was the newest pizza restaurant in Provo—Malawi’s Pizza. But, don’t let the name of the joint fool you. This place is WAY more than just pizza. The owner and Certified Executive Chef—Kent Anderson—is one of 43 chefs in the world with the highest amount of training you can get.
Which means: He’s the Goods.
He has owned several restaurants and was even the personal Chef for The Prophet—President Hinckley.
The most interesting fact about this restaurant is the that for every meal you purchase,  a child in Malawi Africa gets a nutritious meal. In the 3 months that they have been open they have fed over sixty-three THOUSAND meals. I love that this company gives back in such a powerful way.
The food is TO. DIE. FOR. good. I got really excited when Kyle told me that Malawi’s is coming up north near me. I was ecstatic because I am still craving the salads and pizza’s we had. The artichoke pizza is outstanding.
They made eight different pizzas for us to sample, and Kent told us that the pizza’s were done in 8 minutes and 43 seconds. Seriously fast, people, and the taste was amazing. Never in a million years would I have guessed that a pizza joint would serve such tasty food!
I tasted everything they served up for us except the Apple Berry Salad because it has walnuts in it, and I’m allergic, yo.
Because of the allergies, I did find out that if you don’t want something that is typically in a dish, just ask for it to be left out. They make everything fresh, on the spot!
I feel pretty confident when I say that Malawi’s is probably my new favorite restaurant. I can’t wait to try Chef Kent’s other restaurant at the Riverwoods—LA Jolla Groves. It sounds mouth-watering!
The items with an asterisk were my favorites.
Malawi’s Menu Items that we sampled: Salads: Tomato Capri Salad
Apple Berry Salad
*Chicken Caesar Salad
Sesame Beef Salad
BLT Salad
*Chicken Satay Salad
Pizzas: Malawi Capri Pizza
Pesto Roasted Chicken Pizza
*Spinach Artichoke Pizza
Safari Pizza
*Barbecue Chicken Pizza
Pastas: Pesto Chicken Pasta
*Mac & Cheese
Desserts:
*Mixed Berries & Cream Dessert Pizza
Peanut Butter Cup S’More Dessert Pizza
*Cookies N’ Cream Crumble Dessert Pizza
Cinnamon Apples & Cream Dessert Pizza
Malawi’s Bananas Foster Dessert Pizza

I can’t wait for the next round of shops to have us back on a blogger tour. They said they would, and I’m holding them to their word! I love The Shops at Riverwoods!
Bloggers in attendance were:
Kyle http://liken365.com/
Lori http://allreddesign.net
April http://sweetlifeinthevalley.blogspot.com/
Michelle http://www.alittletipsy.com
Kami http://www.nobiggie.net/
Leslie http://ohlittlemookie.blogspot.com
Nicole http://www.cuteculturechick.com
Brittany http://www.lovestitched.blogspot.com
Amy http://asavvylife.com
Heather http://heidipoppins.com
Veronica http://www.localcommunityhotspots.com
Heather http://familyvolley.blogspot.com
Ashley http://raesinggirls.blogspot.com
Judi http://www.landingonallfours.blogspot.com
Stacy http://www.notjustahousewife.net
Evonne http://www.sellpartyof.com
McKenna http://joshandkenna.blogspot.com
Diana http://Livylove.com
Rachel http://screamandhug.blogspot.com

I recently had the opportunity to attend an event sponsored by Local Community Hot Spots and The Shops at Riverwoods. It was quite the swanky affair!   We toured four of the many shops available and truthfully, I wish I lived closer to this place.

I am going to review two at a time, because I don’t want your eyes to glaze over or you get so overwhelmed with the awesomeness of the Riverwoods that your head starts spinning.

The Shops at Riverwoods is not a shopping mall, it’s a destination. It’s an outdoor mall, and has a music pavilion where they offer free music concerts (hello! They had Sugar Ray and Fictionist performing FOR FREE); fire pits that you can stand around to get warm and the entire walking paths are decked out with overhead white lights. It’s really cool and it creates a totally unique feel. 

The thing that I liked the very most? They have a man driving a golf cart around the parking lot, asking you where you’d like to be taken. AND THEN HE DRIVES YOU THERE.  You’re decked out with all those shopping bags and you are parked in the back 40 you simply flag down the golf cart man and he’ll save those boots that we NOT made for walkin’.

Blickenstaffs

We started out our tour at my favorite Vintage Toy Store in the area, Blickenstaff’s. They are simply the best Vintage Toy & Candy Store in Utah. I totally go crazy when I go to this store! It sends me down memory lane faster than the Delorian in Back to the Future. Which, frankly, I think is a brilliant marketing tactic by this company. Help the parents remember what it was like to be a kid, and they are more apt to spend their money trying to capture those feelings and memories again. Smart. Smart. Smart.

This Utah store specializes in finding those hard to find vintage toys of yesteryear as well as the best up-to-date toys from today. While I was there I actually purchased  the hard to find game Ticket to Ride- European. The sales clerk then told me about all the other games I should try.

I got a little verklempt as I walked through the candy isle remembering all the trips to the candy store with my cousins. They had all the crazy-fun candy that I loved to eat as a child.

Called to Surf

The second stop on our tour was this fantastic shop named Called To Surf, which frankly cracked me up. Their PR Director told us that the locals loved the play on words, and that their national suppliers loved the name—Called To Surf. Win Win, everyone’s happy.

This shop has some of the hippest, modest swim suits I have ever seen. They keep their shop stocked year round so when you get that urge in January to head to Mexico, but your Christmas weight has you busting out your suit you don’t need to worry any more. Called to Surf will always have the latest bathing suits that are also hip and modest.

As the mother of at sixteen year old girl, can I just say HALLELUJAH!?

Finding a bathing suit that she will actually wear that doesn’t make her look like a grandma or a HO is really hard. I even found a suit that I want to buy! I haven’t been this excited about swim suit season since… Forever.

They have a really cool boardwalk at the entrance of their shop that is made from the poles that were in the Great Salt Lake out to Salt Air. I love that they recycled those pieces of Utah History. The top of the boardwalk is made from a local barn that was being demolished. So cool to see these parts of history being re-utilized and by doing so it not only helps the earth, but we are preserving portions of local history.

Check back for part two of this fun event I was able to attend. If you are interested in being invited to similar events, Veronica is collecting emails. I know she has another one coming up, so you should probably go sign up!

I have always referred to my dog as the Crazy Boxer Dog on my blog. I've never put her name out there for the universe and I don't really know why, either. She is an old dog. I even refer to her as "my old dog", yet she usually acts more like a puppy than the old dog she is. 

Until today, that is.

I had to carry her down three flights of stairs this morning to get her outside. She couldn't go down the stairs. At All.

She has had 4 tumors removed over the last several years and now has more growing all over her body. She aches, you can tell. 

It's getting time people and I don't think I can do this.

I don't know what my adult life will be like without this dog in it. She has been my shadow... much like a toddler. Everywhere I go, there she is. She is my companion, and trusted friend. I love her like I love a child. Over the years, she has filled multiple voids in my life. She lets me baby and coddle her... As any good dog would.  

Sometimes it seems like my dog is the only one who is excited to see me when I walk through the door. Even if its just to take the garbage out. She always greets me with a "kidney-bean-wiggle."

My children don't know what life will be like without this dog... they've never experienced it.

It's interesting to me how attached a person can become to their animals. They become actual living, breathing members of the family, and when they die it feels like losing a functioning member of your family.

I am not ready to say good-bye to this old dog.  I don't think I have the strength or courage to do so.

Which makes me then reflect on losing a parent or sibling. Or child.

How does one cope?

Seriously. How?

My heart is literally breaking over my dog so I can't even begin to imagine the pain of the latter three.

Where does one find that courage and strength to pull themselves up by the bootstraps and move on after losing a person they love?

I don't know, but I think I need to dig deep and find it.

Thing 3 came home from school the other day and told me that a girl in her class said she wasn't allowed to play with her anymore.

I was shocked.

Who says that? And further, who tells their kids they “aren’t allowed to play with” another child?

I did a little digging and found something even more frustrating.

She said: “Well, she said she couldn’t play with me because I’m not Mormon and she isn’t allowed to play with kids who aren’t Mormon.”

I was now totally horrified.

Because first of all: Hello!! WE ARE TOTALLY MORMON. And secondly, Who does that?

My darling Thing 3 told this girl, “I am Mormon.” and this naughty little girl responded: “No you’re not Mormon. Your Mom drinks Coffee from 7-11. She brought her coffee every day to early morning choir. I know because my big sister saw her. Mormon’s don’t drink coffee so you’re NOT Mormon.”

Now I was just stunned into silence.

I don’t drink coffee people.

At. All.

I drink Hot Chocolate. 

But, even if I did drink coffee, who tells their kids that they can’t play with my kid simply because their Mother drinks “coffee” (read: Hot Chocolate) ?

Do we really have to do the whole Scarlet Letter thing? Judging a person based on what you see, we have learned, is wrong! And seriously? Don’t tell me to “avoid the appearance of evil” either because then I wouldn’t be able to buy gas at the gas station because it sells beer. And I wouldn’t be able to buy groceries at the grocery store because it not only sells beer, but condoms AND cigarettes. And I must support those things and participate in those things if I go into that store. That’s how that logic plays out. I would never go into a BAR, but 7-11 hot chocolate? Come on!

I was drinking HOT COCO people. I even had the kids singing a song about HOT COCO and I would wave my HOT COCO cup around the room while I danced and led the music.

This whole scenario enraged me beyond belief because clearly, my family’s religious practices— or according to them lack there of—had been discussed AT LENGTH by another family and they deemed us “not worthy” to associate with. “You can be nice to her, but you cannot be friends with her or play with her.” was the message this little Eight Year Old child received Loud And Clear.

They judged ME. They judged me because I chose to drink Hot Chocolate in a 7-11 cup that “symbolizes coffee”. I didn’t have a choice to put it in a “this is a cup of hot coco cup” because really? That’s just plain stupid! Because of ME,  these people decided my CHILD wasn’t worth getting to know or to even play with at recess simply  because her Mom brought a 7-11 cup of hot chocolate to early morning choir.

Isn’t there a scripture somewhere that says “Judge not that ye be not judged?”

A person’s differences do not make them a person to avoid getting to know. Fear breads ignorance. Clearly these people fear anything different from them and how sad for them that they have passed that fear and total ignorance onto their daughters.

They are the ones missing out because Thing 3? She’s a pretty awesome kid and one heck of a loyal friend.

Your loss. My gain.

Jerks.

I have always known that I have issues. Particularly with being smelly and dirty. Just ask anyone that knows me well, and I’m constantly making sure I don’t smell, and I’m not dirty. I especially detest smelly, dirty hands and fingernails. Ick.  That is just disgusting and nasty. 

When I was a teenager, I worked at a local amusement park and my job was handling then money.  I was constantly washing my hands because if you could see where people pulled there money from, you would wash your hands, too.  Because HOLY GROSS MONEY, BATMAN! They pulled it out of crevices I never knew you could stick money.

Seriously nasty gross.

My Mom was convinced  I was trying to hide something -- a la Macbeth's "Out, damned spot! Out I say!"
Or, that I was OCD.

In reality I was just completely grossed out with having to take people’s money when they pulled it out of their bras, panties (really) or their sweaty socks.

For Real's.

A while back My furnace wasn’t working, and I had to have someone come out and fix it. The repair man they sent to fix my furnace was a super nice guy. That is until he stuck out his hand to shake. He had the dirtiest hands I have ever seen in my entire life.

Bar. None.

And, he smelled.

Double Whammy!

His hands looked like they he had been working on several hundred cars, and he smelled like he had been lifting those cars and then he came to work on my furnace.

He had to put his dirty hands on my wall to try and figure out what was wrong with the thermostat—and everywhere he touched was black. Not just black but B-L-A-C-K black.

It was all I could do to keep myself from not jumping up and down screaming "Wash your hands! Here's some soap! For the love of all things holy WASH YOUR HANDS!"

My inner Monica was a raving lunatic and she was getting harder and harder to keep at bay.

I kept trying to come up with politically correct ways of saying he should wash his hands:

"Would you like something to eat? Here, wash your hands and I'll feed you something."

Not P.C.

"Here, wash your hands so you can get some dinner on the way home tonight."

(I may have actually said that one).

"You're getting my house filthy with those dirty hands, will you go wash them?"

Nope.

"Wash your flipping’ hands before I wash them for you."

Uh. No.

So, I fidgeted and squirmed and sort of died a slow painful, dirty, smelly death while he was  touching my walls. Getting the blacker and blacker  WITH HIS FILTHY DIRTY HANDS!

Please people for the love of all things clean: Wash your hands when you come to see me!