Chapter Twenty-Eight

I know I know, why take a week to post a birthday review? Because at the end of Birthday Weekend, when the songs and salutations ended I broke down. Tears of age and I think some nonsensical babble about being old. Now some of you who have passed this milestone (every year is a milestone), you will smirk and sarcastically think it could be worse. Maybe it could, but it couldn't have been better. Before I freaked out I had a nearly perfect snowy celebration, and if I weren't so old I could have gone sledding, something I'd wished all 18 years in Lamar.

To start we visited the Pretty Part of Peoria uptown. This outdoor shopping mall is Utah.5 and makes me feel at home. It didn't hurt that I got to pick out all my birthday presents either. I'm a great shopper with other people's money.

On Saturday we recreated my youth. We had a pizza party! This excites me because there are two different chains that offer GF pizza. A treat that has failed when I tried making it myself. The toppings did not compare to my Grandma's colorful palate, but other than that it felt like home. After eating over half a pizza on my own I continued my glutenous state by visiting the second Pretty Part of Peoria, Peoria Heights, where the local shops held a Chocolate Walk in my honor. Every store had chocolate samples and I think the smile behind the owners said Happy Birthday! even if they were unaware.

We did hit one of my all-time favorite ridiculous speciality stores, Vino & Olio...or something similarly Italian. Anyway I'm standing between a line of gourmet flavored olive oils and balsamic vinegars. Only in Peoria. What I did learn is that you can mix Blood Orange olive oil with Chocolate balsamic and taste a chocolate orange. Or add the Vanilla and Pear with the Blood Orange and drink a tangy creamy cream soda. If you're wondering I spend some downtime playing with flavor mixing there. Just like alchemy.

Due to a snow storm the all-night dance contest was post-poned.

By the time I actually turned 28 I was snowed in and content. Well, almost. I may have requested that all my presents be wrapped with homemade bows. Ha Ha Ha Ha ahhahaha. Skip thought I was joking until I handed him the scissors and tape.

Not as horrible as expected, but 28 has a whole year to screw up or prove itself. Make that six months. I think 29 might need some prep time.

Happy December!

At a dinner with some new friends last week a serious toddler asked me where my children were. Instead of pointing to my husband I simply stated that I had none.

"Oh," she nodded and with a light British accent concluded, "you should go get some at the store."

Hmmm...apparently that whole Mommy-just-had-a-new-baby thing didn't catch on. Daniel, you had a similar request years ago. Maybe you could help her out.

  

While I decided not to take home any children I saw at the store, Skip did let me pick out some Christmas lights. And after acquiring tape and push pins we created a masterpiece. If anyone can guess what the white blob is I'll be impressed. (Think winter!)

 Completely fun and festive once I realized the music playing wasn't my Christmas selection so much as the yoga DVD root menu.

Next I will introduced the English Knowles to a little known thing: Wassail, a holiday treat from his Motherland.

Just Call Me Murphy

As in Murphy's Law where anything that can go wrong will. My previous post serves to foreshadow the following ten days. When the bank, insurance, whoever crazies didn't accept our signatures we should have taken it as a sign. We should have rethought, revised and determined a new plan of action. Unfortunately when both members of the couple lean towards impulsivity we just scribbled out new signatures and started unloading box after box.

First night: a Friday night, we spent hanging drapes. A, we couldn't find anything (cheap) to fully cover the front window. It now has two different style of drapes that match and clash at the same time. B, the rod for that same window had some extra parts. It's not supposed to, we just had to rig it a certain way so it worked.

Second day: Lost the keys to the FJ and the storage unit. Spent most of the day in a stupor trying to find them.

Day three: Pretty productive and the first night we slept in our new place. Lost the bed frame so we put it on the floor all classy like. Oh, and it's deadly cold outside (finally November weather as opposed to August) and NO HEAT!

Day four: After the heater is fixed it goes out again in the middle of the night. I wake up with snotcicles. We drill through tile to install a fancy shower curtain. The drill bit lasts for approximately 2.5 holes. We had four. The sales personnel at Menards knows us by name.

Day five: Heater guy comes and says he can't fix the heater, but at least it randomly turned on again. Laundry room floods.

Day six: Kitchen sinks backed up and leaking. Dishwasher takes two runs to dissolve soap. Always.

Day seven: Internet goes out. I reprogram, reset, reassemble multiple times. A wire with a short leads to a long and complicated customer service phone call in which the guy never answers my only question: "Do I have to reinstall everything in a certain order?" We do go through the entire process with me telling him, "Dude there's a short in my power cord, it's not going to change anything!"

Day eight: The cable wire for our Internet goes out....seriously?! I asked dude to check on that last night.

Day nine: Trying to install a garbage disposal. With multiple saws, drills and trips for hardware I don't imagine they'll get to plumbing the fridge.

Tomorrow will be day ten. I plan to wrap up in a blanket and have a good cry.

John Hancock Henry

Right as if moving isn't hard enough I was told that my signature wouldn't hold on my lease. The bank rejected our application and as far as we can tell we signed where appointed and printed where appointed. The advice we were given: "They want that fancy cursive, not print."

When can you tell someone their cursive signature isn't good enough? Now in 2010, when we've ditched the quills, tipped the ink and type all day every day. OHHH maybe we won't have great penmanship in this age. And maybe if it's a signature you accept it regardless if it's legible. (Half of you reading this know you almost complete the first letter of your name and hurriedly scribble out the rest.)

Mine in fact has all letters. Just for fun try it. Breanna Hall. Doesn't look horribly different in cursive.

In the heat of the moment I'd like to go over a list of things you can't refuse.

1. Signatures.
2. A fight over your original eye color.
3. Mother Nature. She's not going to change her course because you want to wear flip-flops.
4. A break up. Watch Aladdin, the Genie says it perfectly--"I can't make someone fall in love with you."
5. Your biological parents. It's a two-for-one special. Embrace it.
6. It's a John Hancock, not John Henry people! American Heritage 101.
7. The fact that this list could've been longer but my hand's cramped from getting that cursive right.

P.S. Later, when I'm feeling cheeky and no longer want to agree to that lease I can honestly say it's NOT my signature.

Spooktacular Spinning

No, I'm not holding a thread, or wire. We stumbled onto this scene during a little nature walk (the others took it to be more of a recon project for future hunts). I think we have the huge Illinois spiders to thank for illusion. Enjoy!

Pee or Pinch

In all my 18 years living in Lamar (bug capitall of Colorado) I never suffered anything more than a mosquito bite. Really quite a few of those. I had no idea how painfully annoying other bites were. Moving to Utah I put thoughts of unwanted bugs into neat file in my mind called Home. Utah's nickname, The Beehive State, didn't clue me in. Instead I dreamed of honey fountains, and it worked for nine years.

The first sting happened while I held a semiautomatic weapon in my hands. Trying to shoot a can from 50 yards sounded like a good time and was when I heard the bang of a hit. What I didn't know was that as I stared down my target I became the target for a nasty, multiple inch wasp. As it landed on my shirt collar Skip tried to warn me, "Don't move," he whispered. Thinking I had done something wrong with the gun I tensed up for the backfire.

Zing!

Fiery hot and through a thick polo collar the wasp's stinger barely got me. Ohhh but it itched and suddenly it felt like the temperature jumped 30 degrees. I declared war on insects. They heard my cry and planned their attack.

Five months later I returned to The Bug Capital. Skip was instantly aware of the giant roaches, grasshoppers, flies...and wasps. I was more interested in showing off my dad's green thumb and our aspen grove. Walking barefoot across our lawn I heard Skip caution, "you aren't wearing any shoes."

Double ZING!!!

I looked down in time to see another giant wasp crawling towards the top of my foot. He'd done his damage on the soft side near my arch and grinned evilly before flying off. I wish he'd been a bee and would've died. Weeks later the puncture is healing, the swelling is down and the itch has left, but my foot is dry and scaly.

Now in Peoria I fear a spider will drop on my head or snip at my toes while I sleep. But I was ready to see the beauty in the millions of lady bugs fluttering by. I imagined my bug-hunter nieces visiting with their nets and quick hands. I smiled to myself and reached for a black spotted creature. I watched it crawl up my arm. I drew in a sharp breath remembering that they like to pee on people. And then I felt the innocent ladybug bite me. I didn't even know they did that.

My white flag is raised and this is my song. The war is over.

75 Days Later

Last night I got a text about a sexy tie. Not the first text I've received on that subject. My youngest brother had the gift of a lifetime courtesy of my wedding: a Sexy Wedding Tie. A tie he chooses to wear to work on occasion. Normally I'd support this with cheerleader style, pom-poms and all. Since he works at the MTC and there really aren't any girls seduce I can only give a golf clap and sly smile.

His text last night held the weight of the supernatural forces of Halloween, love, and maybe even divine intervention. Perplexed by what tie to slip on he stood in front of the closet, closed his eyes, felt a little tug at his heart (after all his favorite sister just moved across the country), reached out and grabbed the Sexy Wedding Tie. If that weren't enough to make your skin tingle he then did some fancy math and concluded it was the 75th day anniversary of my wedding.

I'm not sure he thought we'd last this long.

So girls, here's Dano in his new sexy tie.