For the Slopes?

We have this great story in my family that involves my mom, a fanny pack and a phrase that is now legendary. One day, as we were cleaning out our attic, we found a box of old ski clothes and accessories. We looked through it and found the gloves that were mis-matched, things with holes and otherwise un-needed apparel. And then we came to the fanny pack.

Now I would like everyone to take a moment and stop and think about the last time you saw a fanny pack on a person. Strike that. When was the last time you saw a fanny pack on a person and it made them look cool? Or at the least it DIDN'T make them look like a total tool? Are you thinking 1982 like I am? Well, now imagine that the fanny pack that my mom has pulled out of this box is turquoise blue/green and has a black snap buckle. Did I mention the multiple zippers. Yeah, it also has multiple zippers.

My sisters, and brothers and I all say unanimously that it can be given away to charity. We actually think that it should just be thrown away immediately because there is no way we would want to inflict that turquoise monstrosity on anyone. However, my mom says, "Really?" and then proceeds to hold it up to her waist and turn her body to the side like she's modeling the latest swimsuit from France. She then says "Really? Get rid of it? But maybe we could use it. You know. . .for the Slopes?"

We of COURSE burst out laughing and immediately start mocking her for this. We continued to mock her all the rest of the day, and every chance we've gotten since. Whenever ANYONE talks about skiing, or snowboarding or ANYTHING, one of my siblings will INEVITABLY say, "For the slopes?" and we will all howl with laughter. My mom included, because she's the first to admit that she's crazy. Plus the fact that she actually does CALL them slopes. So there is plenty of mocking opportunity still to this day. (You want me to do an impression of this, I will be happy to do it. It's one of my fave impressions of my mom to do).

So my mom wanted to go to the slopes today. She invited me, Marcelo, Nate and Denisse to go with her. Marcelo decided that he would stay home and finish painting our bedroom. (I actually think that he was afraid to go because he was afraid of embarrassing himself, but he would never admit that.) And we all know that I am 6 months pregnant, so there would be very little skiing being done on my part.

We pack some food "for the slopes" (see, it's a VERY universal phrase!) because NO ONE wants to spend that kind of money for food. Buying food at the slopes is like buying food at the airport or at a movie theater. You KNOW you need it, but do you really want to spend $7 for a tub of popcorn or Frito pie? (Yes, Frito pie was there, and YES, they were charging $7 for it) So you inevitably sneak in food.

On a side note, there was a TIP jar at the little cafe/lodge there at the slopes. I thought that was the most IDIOTIC thing I had ever seen. I didn't look inside the jar, but I'm sure that there was nothing in it. I mean, who wants to leave $1 or $2 when they've just spent $34 on 2 eight inch pizzas and a water. (That was actually the tab of the woman right in front of me) It scared the crap out of me that I wouldn't have enough money for my little raspberry square and my hot chocolate. Luckily, (and this is a very SAD "luckily") my bill only came to $8. I considered myself blessed.

We gather our goods and talk to Nate and decide to meet at BYU at 10:30 to rent the skis, etc. Well, we get there at 10:30 and Nate is nowhere to be found. He calls at 10:36 and says, "we are running a little late. We'll be leaving in 5 min." We pick out some snowboard boots for Denisse, and then we sit and wait. Well, 20 minutes later, we get ANOTHER phone call and Nate says. "Ok, we are leaving Can you tell us how to get there?"

Now would be a great time to go into detail about how Nate and Denisse are late to everything!! My mom (of course) blames Denisse. But you have to understand that my mom is totally biased when it comes to her sons. She defends them to the death, and there is nothing they can do wrong. I think that Denisse wouldn't take that long if Nate didn't let her. But you can't say that to my mom. Her sons can do no wrong.

Like the time I complained about Nate putting down tile in our downstairs bathroom. Well, lets just say the job was LESS EFFECTIVE and we were left with a GIANT mess, a cracked toilet (we had to buy a new one) shoddy work, and a bathroom that we had to put back together. When my mom heard this, she was like "well, he DID help you!" Um, yeah, but if we had hired a professional, they would've put the toilet and sink back together. Or at the least, they would've NOT CRACKED IT. But I can't say anything about my mom's "boys." (Sadly, I think it's this mode of thinking and treating them this way that has let Jacob become the little a-hole that he is right now)

Anyway, back to the topic: My brother and sister in law are FREAKISHLY late to everything. Like when we had Sunday dinner 2 weeks ago, and they were 3 and a half hours late. We were waiting and waiting for them, and then when I could take it no longer, I told everyone that we were just going to eat without them. (Sadly, you should know that the point of me not being able to "take it" any longer came when they were only 1o min late. But it's a good thing we didn't wait for them, right? The point of the story is that we should always listen to my belly) But they never said why they were late. They just were.

So they FINALLY arrive at BYU at like 11:35. And then it is discovered that Denisse is going to ski, not snowboard. So the board that I've picked out for her and had fitted to her boots will have to go back. And she needs to try on some new boots. Oh, and she doesn't have any ski pants. So we try to rent those too. BYU does rent pants, but they only have 2 sizes currently available: Men's 4xl and youth size 14. SHE FITS INTO THE YOUTH SIZE!!!! I knew she would. My brother and my mother are very confused about her size. Nathan said she's a size 8. I know she's a 4-6. I've seen her little butt and her skinny Latino hips. But whatever, the point is that she fit into these ridiculously tiny pants.

Oh, my brother has all the snowboarding equipment he would need, but he decides that he's going to ski so that he can be next to his wife as she's learning. I try on my mother's boots and find that I can fit into them just fine. So if I decide that I want to go down the bunny slope a few times, I can.

Before everyone starts FREAKING OUT about me going skiing when I'm 6 months pregnant, please know that I've been skiing since I was 8 years old, and i was going to go down the BUNNY slope for crying out loud. I was actually thinking of switching jackets with my mom and doing a green trail (aka, the easiest) but then my mom reminded me how I had to rest while trying on clothes at Target on Saturday night (I was getting a bathing suit. Why did I think it was a good idea to get one of these in the dead of winter while I am huge and pregnant and HUGE? I tried one on, and with all the pulling to get it up, I had to sit down and rest between suit rounds. I finally found one that hides my belly well enough, but it shows every dimple in my thighs. BLECH. That's all I have to say about bathing suits: BLECH!) Yeah, but back to point, I don't think I would've made it down the mountain.

Anyway, Nathan ALSO has to get fitted for boots, skis and poles. We FINALLY get out of there at like 12:10 and head up to THE SLOPES. The day is nice and pretty. We walk down and I set myself up in the lodge/cafe with a big cup of hot chocolate, an awesome book and 2 very decadent pastry squares. I enjoy my book and my fattening substances for a few hours.

My mom comes back and tells me that Denisse is having a HORRIBLE time with the skiing. That she keeps falling down, that she's covered in snow, and she just can't get it. My mom decides to wait for them a little while. But then Nathan finally comes over to the lodge and tells us that Denisse had to be brought down by ski patrol because she snapped something in her knee. The day is over for her.

Because we have our own car, My mom decides to finish skiing the rest of the day (only 2 more hours or so) and then we head home. I never did get the chance to go down that bunny slope. Oh well, there will be other chances later. Bad day for Nate and Denisse: good day for me, hot chocolate and a book.

I know I may come down on my mom a lot in this blog. So I want to say something now so that you all don't think that my mom is a horrible person. I know I rag on her a lot, and she has her own problems and issues (One is that her boys never have to clean, so she never expects her daughter's husbands to clean. If I whine about Marcelo not helping me with the laundry, it falls on deaf ears. She had NO help with any housework from anyone but her girls. But that is her own fault. Another one is that she's trying to ingrain in her daughters' minds the need to always make your man happy, have dinner ready, etc. However, a very STRONG point can be made that she did that for nearly 40 years and it didn't make ANYONE happy. Not her, not my father. Why, therefore, is she trying to push the same agenda on her girls? Just a thought.)

I don't want to get going, because this was the part of the email where I was going to PRAISE my mother. (Real good start on that one, right?) Anyway, I am thankful for the things she does. Like she put a pregnancy panel in my work pants. They were being held up with a safety pin and 2 rubber bands. But the P.P. lets me have all the room I need and I don't have to keep hitching up my pants every time I stand up from my desk. Also, it keeps me from having to buy new pants. I am the CHEAPEST girl you will ever see, especially when it comes to clothes. So I hate the fact that I might have to buy another pair of pants that I will only wear for 3 months. I would rather just wear these pants out until they get a hole in the crotch and they have to be thrown away in a biohazard bag. But the panel saved me from needing to do this, so for that I'm thankful to her.

(Some may say that a mother who criticizes her daughter for having 2 eggs and 2 pieces of toast for breakfast, but then approves of her going skiing 6 months pregnant is not a very good judge of what's right. I may agree with you.)

Well, at least my mom is good for a laugh. Right? For the slopes?

Happy Balentimes Day!

I hope all of you had a good Balentimes Day. Mine was ok. At about 3:30 I received a call from my mom and she told me that my brother had call her. He said, "Sooooo, what are you doing for Valentine's Day?" My mom told him that she, Marcelo and I were going to have a lasagna dinner together. And then he said, "Oh. Can we come over?"

So that's how he ended up over at my house last night eating my food and letting his dog run around my living room. The dinner was freaking awesome (because I made it, of course) but the desert was less effective. My mom was going to get Lofthouse cookies, but when she got to the store, they were all gone. At that point, I think that she should've bought some thing chocolate and/or ice cream like. She did not. She bought some un-frosted sugar cookies, a tub of low-sugar icing and 1 small bag of M&M's. Bastard.

Dessert was not great. I'm going to have to go make myself a sundae to help wash the memory of that horrible dessert from my mind.

Speaking of desserts, Lynn and I were talking about food today. (Reagan, you have a rival for food talk. You know I can't go more than 4 hours without talking about food) The conversation started my telling her that my hands smelled like bologna. The pre-molded kind where you have to remove the red tape around the outer rim before you eat it and you have to pick out suspicious little black things out of the nut meat.

She said that that kind is her FAVORITE and that growing up she was never allowed to have it. So she said that when she came to college she had at least 2 of those sandwiches a day. Did I mention that when she had those sandwiches they were fried. I think that is the best thing I've ever heard.

I said that my childhood decadence was Little Debbie snack cakes. And I never got to have them, so as soon as I came to school, I ate FAAAAAAR to many of them. I told her that 25 of the 40 pounds I put on my freshman year were due to these little fantastic pieces of sugared heaven. She said that she LOOOVES zebra cakes. She said that if she had a choice between zebra cakes and sleeping with Enrique Iglesias, she would most like choose the zebra cakes.

I had to agree with her. Who knows what kind of lover Enrique is. Yes, he's fantastically Latin and smarmy, but how quick is he? I mean, I'm going to be cheating on my husband and forfeiting 2 zebra cakes in the process. This is a big risk. I mean, with 2 zebra cakes, I know how long they will last, and how high my level of enjoyment will be with them. With Enrique, however, there is no such guarantee! That is a risk I don't think I'm willing to take!!

The morale of the story breaks down thusly; My knowledge of Zebra cakes:secure. My knowledge and trust in the lovin' skills of Enrique Iglesias:not so secure. It's really not a hard decision when you put colons in your sentence.

Guess what? I tricked Jean into giving me Monday off. How did I do that, might you wonder? Well, Martin Luther King Day was the first Monday that Lynn was gone. Everyone else was gone out of the office too. All the banks were closed, the title company was closed and so were all the mortgage companies. But I still had to come in and do nothing all day. And the Friday before, Jean said, "Oh, Monday is a holiday? But you don't get it off right?" I said, "Uhhhhh. . . " and she said, "I think you don't get this Monday off, but you get President's Day off, right?"

I knew for a FACT that we got neither of them off. So I quickly said, "Yeah, that sounds right." She said, "Go check the book" and I said "Oh I've seen it. That's right." And then guess what I did? I changed the book. (Heather, why didn't we think about this before? You KNOW that she has no idea what's going on unless she sees it in the book) I changed the book to give the assistants more days off. I forgot that the book actually says that you only get those days AFTER you have worked for a year. What a joke!

So, the next assistants can thank me. Even though Jean will probably try to change it later when she finds out what I did, but whatever, I'll be gone by then.

And finally, I was going to put this bacon flow chart on my blog, but I couldn't get it big enough to be clear. I really like bacon, and I think all of your do too, so you will totally be able to relate with me on this bacon-y turn of events. I'm just going to have to put the link. Please enjoy.

http://s7.photobucket.com/albums/y255/PinkRevival/lmao/?action=view&current=baconflowchart_700.jpg

List of things I did today at work

As I was reading Lynn's comment yesterday from my blog about how she was directed to order Dan's Thanksgiving turkey just so Jean could "hump her head" made me think about all the things I've recently had to do in order that Jean can show her dominance around the office. Honestly, it would just be easier if she copped a squat and took a deuce in the middle of the floor. Then we could know definitively that SHE'S the one in charge, and there wouldn't have to be so much head humping going on.

So her is just a partial list of things I've had to do TODAY for the a-holes in my office.

1. I asked Matt if he's taken down the sign at one of our listings. He replied by sending me this email.

“I installed a metal frame sign on the same day I listed the property, a Saturday. In fact, I’d asked Lynn the day before (Friday) to prepare the sign for me (He means the small sign that sticks in the ground that we have in the office. As opposed to the larger signs which we have to order up from a sign service), which she forgot to do; and then on Monday, when I turned in the listing—with the written instruction that I’d installed a stamp-it-yourself-in-the-ground (aka “metal frame”) sign and with the further instruction to create a voice ad for the 800# attached to that sign—despite all these instructions, Lynn nevertheless and still ordered a post-in-the-ground sign. The Circlepix shot in fact shows both signs in the ground. I de-installed the s-i-y-i-t-g (aka “mf”) sign, and now you need to order the post-in-the-ground sign to be de-installed. Already I’m conflating Lynn with Tracey, in terms of ineptitude. Sheesh."

(Just in case you were wondering, the word "conflating" means to mix or combine things: a transitive and intransitive verb to join or merge two or more things into a unified whole. i.e. "I'm afraid you've mistakenly conflated two separate sets of facts." Leave it to Matt to be more of a total asshole during a total asshole email)
Now, I would like everyone to know that Lynn is borderline genius and Tracey was a 45 year old (very likely) mentally challenged woman. Very nice, (as most mentally challenged are) but slower than a bag of turtles and dumber than a palate of rocks. To illustrate this, let me tell you that Lynn has a masters degree which she achieved in 6 years. (It took me 5 just to get my bachelors, which I guess isn’t saying TOO much. I’m a bad student) and she recently told me that she took the LSAT for "fun" and scored a 170 on it. 180 is the max, just in case you were wondering. (Sorry if you didn't want that info spread around Lynn. I just thought that people should know to whom Matt was comparing Tracey)

Tracey would have to write ads for the homes illustrated magazine, and it would take her a day and a half. 12 FULL hours, and get this: THE COMPUTER WRITES THEM FOR YOU!! There is a button you push and it creates new wording describing the house, features, etc. What a joke!! And then when she finally left, I looked at the ad that she completed in that time, and there was something wrong with EVERY AD! I couldn’t believe it!! 12 hours to do something that I had to fix anyway.

Lynn was actually really scared to do those ads because she watched Tracey struggle through them, and then when it was her chance, she just laughed and laughed because she realized Tracey is a moron.

But Lynn told me the truth about this “sign” incident. She said that he NEVER asked her to create a sign for him, and then he specifically asked her to ORDER UP a big sign. He even went so far as to ask her later in the day if the sign got ORDERED UP. She said yes, she ordered it up. He CONVENIENTLY didn’t mention that little fact when he was vilifying Lynn. Well, I know that he was confused, wasn’t communicating well, and then after Lynn left he felt totally justified in blaming her for the whole thing. (The day after she left, he actually sent an email to Jean telling her this and saying, “SEE!! Lynn checked out a long time ago.” Jean was kind enough to forward it to me, (presumably so I would start to hate Lynn too) and I sent it to Lynn, (whom I don’t hate and am very envious of right now)

Lynn, I miss you. This job sucks THAT MUCH MORE without you. Moving on.

2. Today, I also had to hunt down the phone number for Utah State Tax Commission. Jean forgot to pay her personal property taxes (How does she not learn? We JUST got audited for this last month). She told me she thinks she missed the deadline, and that I would have to go down to the county and get the new assessment form for her. So after an extensive search looking for the phone number AND address of the place, she calls out to me “Oh, I found it!!” Turns out she’s a horrible organizer and loses things on her desk all the time. She found the voucher on her desk under a giant stack of crap.

Here’s what I don’t get, where does she get off yelling at me about my drawer being open and nearly taking off Lynn’s hand one day when she slammed her door shut, and yet she loses things ALL THE TIME because she can’t get it together? I’m sure I would’ve been blamed for her losing it had it not turned up. You know, I didn’t put it in a red folder, or a blue folder, or I put it in her box but it only had a yellow post-it, and she needed it to have an orange post-it so she wouldn’t lose it. You know. My fault. Always.

3. I got a call from Larry H. Miller of Lexus. I could see Matt was on the other line, so I put her on hold. I then IM’s Matt and told him she was there. He sends back a message “Ask when they can pick me up.” But by that time she had hung up. I said, “Sorry, she’s gone. I guess you can just call her back” and then he says this, “801-224-3200” WHAT THE FUUUUUU!!!!!???? So, I’m to understand from that that you want ME to call your car dealership for you. Great. I am the office slave, so I’ll get right on that.

So I call, and the service guy starts saying that a) he doesn’t know what is going on with the car. He can’t get it to make the same sound Matt described. b) he wants to keep the car overnight c) he doesn’t have a car to give matt. After I hang up with Matt and give him this info, he says, “Well, what are they going to do about it?” Ummmm, I DON’T KNOW!!! WHY DON’T YOU DO YOUR OWN DAMN PERSONAL CALLS SO I DON’T HAVE TO KEEP UP WITH THIS INANE GAME OF MESSAGE TAG!”

That was it. That was my day. When you say your prayers tonight, thank H.F. that you aren’t living my life. I’m done now. I’m going home and all I want to do is eat fries and watch my TiVo. But my mom is there, and she’s going to try to knock the fries out of my hand and then pester me until I agree to go to the gym or go for a walk in this falling snow. But I’m not going to let her nag me today. Tonight is MY night. BACK OFF LADY.

Have a good Wednesday, everyone!

Lazy Tuesday

My mom is trying to get me to help her strip wallpaper but I'm doing a GREAT job of ignoring her. I actually helped her for a little while, but now I won't be doing any of it. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the chemical they used to strip the glue has an agent in it known to cause cancer and birth defects in the state of California. But mostly I'm just lazy. And I have horrible acid reflux right now. I don't know what it was that I ate, but I'll have to remember to stay away from it in the future.

Next item of conversation: I have horrible Dandruff. This is due to many factors: I live in a horribly dry desert state, I have really sensitive skin, I have very fine hair, and lastly, I ran out of my dandruff shampoo.

Now, with just ONE of these things happening you can see how dandruff would sprout up from time to time. But all of them happened last week. It's like a full on bowl of corn flakes up there! Right around my hairline you can see the dry skin, and it almost looks like when you burn your scalp and it peels. That's how dry and crackly it is.

I don't wash my hair every day because it dries it out,(so I've been told) but on day #2, the flakes are so large, they require their own boarding pass on flights. It gets awkward when the TSA agents say, "And now we need to pat down your head and check those dandruff flakes for any liquids over 5 Oz."

But I ran out of my Head and Shoulders: Ocean Mist the other day, and the flakes became visible from space. I just got a new bottle of it, and my scalp skin is still trying to get back on schedule. You know what? I never did ask my OB/GYN if it was ok for me to use H&S while pregnant. That could be bad. . .

Next topic: Office birthday parties. Jeans' was last week. And guess what? She got stiffed. I'm sure I will somehow be blamed for this. But you know what? For years I watched Heather stress out for MONTHS about what to get her, and then Jean would whine anyway about what she got. There was NO WAY I was going to do that. And I love the fact that even though Matt has been there more than 10 years and Dan's been there more than 6, they always leave it up to the assistant to plan the party and pick out the gift.

This year, I wasn't playing. I was NOT going to give her another $300 pen that she really didn't need and she only wanted so she could pull it out and TELL people that it was worth $300. For her, the best presents are things that she doesn't really need, but are flashy so they impress the little peons who have never seen anything to LUXURIOUS in their lives. What a waste.

So I threw out some ideas, and we decided we would all go and do something fun as an office. (Lani, her roommate suggested we get her season 8 of Monk on DVD and maybe another pen. UHHHH) But we vetoed that and all decided on the fun activity. They picked the weekend to do it (March 22nd) and I think that I'm going to be mysteriously SICK that day. Or I'm going to sprain my ankle, or just something to get out of spending anymore time than necessary with these horrible people.

But here is the BEST part about Jean's birthday. She'll get cards in the mail, and she'll PROP THEM UP ON HER DESK LIKE LITTLE "FRIEND TROPHIES." It's as if she's trying to remind everyone that she DOES TOO have friends, cause look!! They sent her a card! Tomorrow will be 8 days after her birthday and she'll still have those cards up. And they aren't facing her!! Like I can understand if maybe she keeps up the pretty ones or all of them so she can see them and remember who sent them to her. But no!! they are facing AWAY from her. So that anyone that walks in her office sees them. They are CLEARLY on display not for her benefit, but for the enjoyment of OTHERS. Um, Jean? I don't care what other people think about you. I think that you are a turd.

Here's the thing: I don't see a card from any past assistants. Even her most precious Erin didn't send her a card or even STOP BY on her birthday. (Yeah, Heather, Erin moved back. Jean made sure to let me know that she offered her a job. I wanted to say, "did she let you know that she would rather stick needles in her eyes then come and work for you?" But I know she just wanted me to squirm and think that my job was in jeopardy. I never did. No one wants to come back and work for Jean) Anway, I wonder why there were no cards in there from past assistants. Hmmmm. . .

I mean Jean is always telling me what a great job I have, right? Why is it that she can't let me figure that out on my own? Like she doesn't trust that I'll be able to figure that one out? I DID graduate from college, Jean. I can figure things out! But for some reason, she feels the need to CONSTANTLY remind me about how GREAT my job is. After the 2nd reminder, I was suspicious, and then when I heard it the third time I knew the truth. But by then, it was too late. I was stuck, and she knew it. Bastard boss.

So that's my random info for the day. And here is my random picture. It's a picture of my 6 year old niece being patted down at the airport in Texas. Apparently 6 year -olds are the newest terror threat. Watch out! Your 5 year olds are next! You can't pull anything over on us!

HAPPY NATIONAL PANCAKE DAY!!

Today is National Pancake day. Mom and I woke up at 6:30 so we could be out the door at 6:45 so we could be at the IHOP at 7:00 pm. And why did we do this? BECAUSE IHOP IS GIVING AWAY FREE PANCAKES!!!

That's right. All day today, until 10 pm, they are giving away a "short stack" of 3 pancakes with a GIANT dollop of butter. (I think I should've asked for another scoop of it on top of my short stack)

I think that I should go there after work today for another fine helping of free pancakes. My only lament is that I didn't get to post this until nearly 1 pm today, thus cutting out 5 hours of everyone's pancake enjoyment. (well, everyone who stalks my blog and reads it religiously, that is).

So, if you are reading this before 10 pm on Tuesday, Feb 12 GO GET YOURSELF SOME PANCAKES!! You may have to fight your way through a crowd of bums, hippies and or poor college students, but those pancakes are AWESOME.

And don't forget to tip your waitresses.

Papa was a Rollin' (Republican) Stone

This post may be a little old. Super Tuesday WAS nearly a week ago. But anyway, here it is.

I know this won't come as a shock, but my family has been republican for many many years. However, it may surprise you that this is due mostly to my MOTHER'S side of the family. I have no idea what my father's family believes politically. I do know that my father loves Rush and Sean Hannity-Two of the people I most despise in this world. It's not so much WHAT they say that pisses me off, but how they say it with total arrogance. They speak as if they have done all the investigation and have come to the conclusion of what RIGHT is and then they mock and belittle those that don't agree with them. I hate that. I can't listen to them without total rage boiling up in my veins.

But this post is about my mom's family's political feelings. My mom was born and raised in California, a state that many people consider to be STAUNCHLY Democrat. Add to that the fact that she has many hippie siblings who when we get together at our family reunions do nothing but drink coffee, smoke pot and talk about what the word "jihad" really means when those radicals declare it on us.

But it all started with my grandma. She's a R-E-P-U-B-L-I C-A-N till the day she dies. Oh wait, she already died, and on that day, she was holding her little ceramic elephant and talking about President Bush. I kid. She was doing neither. But she was still a devoted Republican and let me tell you why: Her husband ran for U.S. Senate in the state of California as a Republican.

That's right, my grandfather vied for a seat in Congress. He didn't win. If he did, I probably wouldn't be here today. But I need to get a copy of a greeting card the family sent out the year that he was running and scan it into the computer for y'all to see. It has a picture of him and his family sitting around the tree and my mom has to be 8 years old. They are the perfect model of family unity and what everyone should aspire to become. Of course, it was all a lie.

It would only be 7 years later when my grandfather would take my grandmother on a FABULOUS trip to the Virgin Islands and tell her that he no longer wanted to be with her. He would say that he didn't actually want to divorce her, but he did want to move to a million dollar home overlooking the golf course with his secretary/mistress while she stayed in her crappy home down in town. He said that he would be living with and having sex with someone else, but he would still stay married to her on paper. Makes sense right?

As a side note, it was always REALLY awkward when we had to go visit him and his lady. Her name was Lydia, and we called her just that. Not grandma, not grammie, not anything endearing. Just Lydia. It was weird and very confusing for a child of 5 or 6 to comprehend. I like to think that he didn't win because Providence knew 7 years before hand that he would be a bastard towards his family really soon.

Anyway, I think that my mother's older brother and her youngest sister rebelled against their father, the Republican, and hence became the BIGGEST hippies you'll ever see. But that didn't stop my grandma from continuing her strong support of the Republican party. And she would go to all the rallies and donate to the Republican Party. She was WAY in, like the mafia. I'm pretty sure G-ma had the elephant tattooed on her lower back. A conservative tramp stamp, so to speak. I just always thought it was funny that in a very blue state, my grandma is royally screwed by my red grandpa, and yet still defends his political party to the very end.

And truth be told, I just found out that my mother is more like her hippie siblings than she lets on. (Did I mention my mom is in town? She'll be here for 3 weeks. Yikes. A horror story follows at the end of this post) So I'm watching "A Baby Story" on TLC, and we happen to be watching this one episode where a woman decides to go the natural route. All other episodes of A Baby Story, when the women do it naturally, they are all really calm and it looks no different than the other births with an epidural. But this lady was TWEAKING. She was convulsing and moaning and just all together HIGH DRAMA.

I mentioned to my mother that most women weren't like that on this show, and she said, "Did you know I delivered all of you naturally? All except my first" WHAT THE WHHAAAAAT?? I just stared at her open mouthed. I said, "You are such a hippie!!!" She continued. "With my first one, I was knocked out completely. After 36 hours of labor, they had to put me out. That's what converted me. After that I swore to myself that I would never do that again."

You have to remember that my mom delivered her first baby 9 days after her 18th birthday. This was way back in 1968 when they still didn't know what was going on with drugs and better birthing methods. I don't know HOW they knocked her out, but I could see it being ether or some other primitive substance. In later years she would say the same about birth control, always calling it "NASTY birth control". She took it for 5 or 6 years and then couldn't get pregnant. Again, I'm sure that this was due to the fact that back then hormone levels were jacked to the sky.

But back to the point: my mother is a hippie. She used to make fun of my aunt's La Leche League practices (like those of nursing your kid till they are old enough to go to kindergarten) and her crazy hippie practices of not shaving her legs, arms or anything else. But she is one of those herself. I mean, who else besides hippies have 5 kids naturally? Let me tell you that the last baby was born in 1989. I'm sure medicine had improved enough in those years to make it safe for you to get an epidural. But nope, she did that one naturally too.

Here's the craziest one: She held off having my sister Julie for nearly an hour while she waited for my brother Jeff to arrive. He was her birthing coach, and was there for all the classes from the start. They couldn't find Jeff (this is in 1985, before cell phones) and he was missing. And so while they tried to track him down, she stopped pushing and stopped everything. She said that was the worst, but she made it. She also said that was the one birth where they didn't give her an episiotomy. She tore a shape of what she called "Lord Voldemort." I think she meant a zig zag like on Harry's forheard, because that's the line she drew with her finger when she told me. Anyway, it was a bad tear, and she had to go back 2 days later to get re-stitched because she ripped her stitches out. Ripped out. Just say those words a few times. I think that is the most pleasant thought I've heard all day.

Anyway, I still don't know what I'm going to do about my birth. Do I want to do it naturally? Not really. Do i want an epidural? Not really. Isn't there a good medium? I guess my current plan is to see how bad the pain gets and go from there. Maybe that's foolish of me. It probably is. I've never had a baby before.

Here is my post summed up: My mother is a hippie, My grandfather was a cheating bastard, and I don't want to tear like Lord Voldemort.

P.S. Sometimes I feel guilty that I'm not inviting my mom into the delivery room with me. But then she makes a comment and I don't feel so badly about it anymore. Like last night, we were going grocery shopping and I was talking about how I love to use these little 4 inch plates for my breakfast. I usually have 2 eggs on top of 2 pieces of toast. And I put each one on an individual plate and it's fantastic because I don't have to wash a single thing. And as I'm telling her about how the plates aren't big enough for both my pieces of toast, she says, "Well, have you thought about only having 1 egg and 1 piece of toast?"

While I know that I may not look it, please do try to remember that I am 6 months pregnant. And I don't think that 1 egg and 1 piece of toast will hold me over from 7:30 am to 12:30 pm when I can come home and eat again. I started to say this and my mom is like "oh yeah, one egg wouldn't fill you up". Like it's MY fault I can't be satisfied by one egg and 1 toast for 5 hours! And did I detect a hint of the suggestion that I should somehow TRAIN my 6 month pregnant body to be satisfied with that amount of food? It pissed me off, and I'm still pissed about it. I changed the subject because I didn't want to go off on her in the middle of Macey's. Sometimes my mom just doesn't get it.

Odds and Ends

Just a few tidbits to make you all realize how just absolutely ROCKING my life is:

* I just did a "no cost" refinance of my home. My mortgage broker said it would be free and it would lower my monthly rate nearly $100 bucks a month. Guess how much this "free" refinance costs? $1818.92. Which I don't think we really have right now. I should be fair. I have to pay $1818.92 up front and then I'll get back more than $1300 in a few weeks. So it really IS saving us money this month, but I just have to bring in the initial money to close it tomorrow. THEY ARE VERY LUCKY THAT MARCELO AND I ARE FREAKING RICH AND WE CAN AFFORD THEIR LITTLE "NO COST" FEE OF $1818.92!! They are lucky we use $100 bills to wipe our butts every night. I'll just grab a few of those next time I'm by the toilet.

* Marcelo is OBSESSED with the elections. This also happened 4 years ago right after we were first married when we lived in that horrible little apartment in the ghetto of Provo. He would watch the presidential debates (sometimes on the Spanish channel becuase his English wasn't so good at that point) and he would comment on them continuously, asking me what they were trying to say. He had lived in this country for about 2 months, but he LOVED every minute of it. He's in FULL election mode now. As I type, he's watching and getting excited for "Super Tuesday." I LOVE the fact that he doesn't try to talk about crap that he doesn't know anything about. He just loves to listen and take in the whole experience. I think that his happiest day will be when he gets his citizenship and can vote for himself.

* My dog smells like corn chips when she wakes up in the morning. Like FULL ON smells like Fritos. And not just when she wakes up in the morning. When I come home in the evening she's been in her little cage in our pantry closet and that WHOLE room smells like Frito Pie. (FYI Frito pie is made up of Fritos, a layer of chili and cheese on top. I know you were all wondering) It's not a good smell. Sometimes Marcelo will wake up really early at go to the gym at like 4 am and then come home and walk in our bedroom and immediately have to leave becuase the Frito smell is over powering. We WOULD leave the door open, but she might run down and start pawing through the trash in the middle of the night. (I think that sometimes my pregnancy gas contributes to the horrible smell, but we'll just go on letting Marcelo think it's all the dog)

* I love TiVo. It's like the greatest thing since, well, since TELEVISION. The funny thing about TiVo is that it's like Big Brother. It tracks your watching habits and then records things that it THINKS you will like. The problem is that if you record something ONCE you can never get that memory out of TiVo's mind. It's like a resentful spouse. For example, Marcelo recorded something on QVC the other day. Yes, you read that correctly. QVC. What must've happened is that he was flipping through the list of shows, and he liked the title. He didn't happen to notice that it was flipping QVC. (Well, maybe he DID see that it was QVC, but he didn't know what that meant) Anyway, when I showed it to him (laughing at him in the process, of course) he said that he didn't mean to do it and we recorded it immediately. But TiVo still continues to torment me and record at least one show from QVC every day. CURSE YOU RESENTFUL TIVO MEMORY!

* Marcelo has the best/worst stories from growing up in Ecuador. I'm pretty sure that I've told you the story about how his oldest brother was stolen from the hospital just hours after he was born, right? If not, let me know and I'll retell it the best I can. I know I've told you all about the "worm" that attacked him and almost killed him when he was like 8. Anyway, if given reign over the remote, Marcelo will IMMEDIATELY turn it to the crappy Spanish channels. We used to not be able to watch ANYTHING together because I couldn't stand his shows and he felt the same about mine. Well, that has changed because there are now several shows we can watch together. But that doesn't change the fact that he will go RIGHT to those channels if given the chance.

So last night, that's what he does. He starts watching this show on "Univision" called "Los Cinco Magnificos". I don't get the ENTIRE premise, but from what I understand and from what he tells me (but who knows; he could be BSing me) there are several groups of circus performers and one of the group is a novice who they are teaching. Almost like Dancing With the Stars. But with elephants. And trapeze artists. And leotards with sequins where men's packages are VERY well displayed. Anyway, all of a sudden Marcelo starts to tell me about how he used to take care of the animals when the circus would come to town.

You should know that I am pretty gullible. But when Marcelo tells me something and I want to make sure that he's not lying to me, I say "jurame" which means "Swear to me." If he answers "te prometo" I will repeat "jurame." If he STILL won't "Jurar" then I know he's trying to BS me.
But he didn't do it this time. I didn't even have to ask him if he was being honest: you could SEE it in his eyes. He said that he was 9 or 10 when the circus came to town, and one of the workers asked him if he wanted to make a little money for the week. He was in charge of getting a hold of all the food the animals would need while they were there. Straw and hay for the elephants; raw chicken for the lions and tigers and so on. He said he got to help feed them every day, he got to ride the elephant and he even got some free tickets to the show. (He said they were really good seats, and he actually sold one of them for even more money. That's my boy) He was all excited talking to me about it and I could just see the excitement in his eyes to remember it. Good times in Ecuador.

I wish I would've known him when he was that age. I bet he was fun to hang out with. I will just say it again: I think Marcelo had the craziest, saddest, happiest, best, worst and greatest childhood ever. I hope that our kids have HALF the experiences (the good experiences that is) that Marcelo has had.

*Last item. Marcelo commented today on how he's sad that his family is missing out on all the big experiences in his life. No one was here for our marriage, and now no one will be here for the birth of our first child. It really made him sad to verbalize that. I think that no matter what, we HAVE to get his mother here for the birth of at least ONE of our kids. My mother in law is awesome (I think. I don't really know her that well. But what I know of her is awesome) But guys aren't supposed to miss their families. And to know that Marcelo was lamenting that loss, that thought made me a sad panda.

Here's to Super Tuesday!!