Gah, why did I ever grow up?

These pictures were taken by my brother-in-law. I have the cutest niece and nephews in the whole wide world.

Who knew that water coming out of plastic thingie could hold such fascination...



She looks so intent, serious, unfathomable...like she came from the sea-spray.



Of course that kind of concentration couldn't last for long. Let's eat the camera instead....


Play is a serious thing dudes...


Pure joy, at being wet. When did I forget that...

The Tree that Fell on My Porch

Yeah. A tree fell on my porch. A tree. On my porch. It was literally inches away from my front door. One slight shift in the physics and my front door or window or roof would have been demolished. Have I mentioned recently that the house I live in was built in the 1890's? I am sure the trees were planted also in that previous century. They are humongous, old and slightly rickety. So it is no wonder that the one in our front yard snapped like a toothpick in the storm last night. Here are some pictures. This first picture shows the tree in it's shorter state this morning. I took it looking through my front window. Even broken like it is, it is huge. The tree is now half the size it used to be....






Here you can see the wreckage (note: all of these pictures are after the tree was towed off of the porch onto the lawn by our fabulous neighbors). Now comes the very interesting and cool part. So the tree falls on our porch, smashes the railing, missing our house by inches, and leaves my porch plants and the bike on which it fell unscathed. Completely unscathed. About four hours earlier my housemates and I had been discussing the end of the world. When the shit will hit the fan. Most people believe some sort of shit is going to hit some sort of fan. And we were discussing how just because shit hits the fan doesn't mean that you have to be covered in shit. You can be in a hurricane with all of it's chaos and at the same time be in the eye....peaceful, calm. We have all heard that if you are prepared than you don't fear. I believe it. I believe that is a very literal physical preparedness, and I believe that possibly more importantly it is an emotional, mental and spiritual preparedness.

Einstein said that Imagination is more powerful than Knowledge. I would add that the only thing you can't do is that which you can't imagine. For the past few months, for various reasons I have been imagining my house as being almost in this bubble of safety. A Space where only light and love is attracted there, where yuckiness doesn't want to come. Where angels walk about, where people learn about how to have more love and more light in their lives. Where if there are earthquakes, somehow I am not effected. And when I saw the tree falling all over in my front yard (the crash shaking the earth) and not touching me, a very strong thought came to my head saying...Yes, what you have been imagining can totally be and in fact is reality. I believe when it is your time to go, you will die. But I also believe that when the end comes, however that will be, that...well you don't have to be covered in shit if you don't want it to be. What is that saying..seek and you shall find, ask and it shall be given, knock and it will be opened. If that is true, then if we ask to know how to be in the eye of the hurricane I guess we will be given. Miraculously and literally.

I should never sugar and drive...

I have been drunk twice in my life. Somehow I didn't learn the first time that I really no likey. First of all I don't hold my alcohol well at all, so after one glass I am feeling loopy. Soon the depth perception gets weird. Thing don't go where I put them and the like. I start to not be able to think clearly, and not to care. I laugh a lot, and then get really tired. Somewhere in the middle of all of that the headache begins and my body says, "Why? I mean really, why? Now I am working overtime to get this stuff out, because we don't like it. Liver doesn't like it. Kidneys over there in the back don't like it. Glands over there in the neck get all puffed and break out. Yup, the vote is a no go on the alcohol." And I haven't been drunk since.

Well today I got accidentally intoxicated. Not from drinking, but eating a slushy thing. You know one of those icey, summery slushies with names like Orange Oasis, you get from the roadside shacks. Who knew that those little shacks served alcoholic slushies. No, it is not true. There was no alcohol in it at all. I think it was a combination of the sugar, neon orange, glow-in-the-dark, darth vader food coloring and the ice-cream at the bottom. Oh yeah and on the rocks. So why did I eat it in the first place??? I don't usually eat sugar because it ain't so healthy for you and it doesn't make me feel so good. But today was a holiday and I was feeling rash. So I did. I ate the whole gynormous, super-size the hell out of me thing. Within the hour I was feeling nauseated, slightly headachy and very loopy. I couldn't think straight. Couldn't type real words worth beans. I could type, quite fast I noticed, but the words just weren't real. And everything seemed really funny. (My new words made me laugh and laugh. I am pretty sure that if anyone was around they thought I had lost it.)

On a side note, but a connected note (:)) I was reading the other day about symptoms of poisonous spider bites (see previous post). They were ironically very similar. Headache. Nausea. Fuzziness. Vomiting (did I mention that in the end I threw up?). How is it that there are no warning labels on this sugar shit?????? Sorry it was just such good alliteration. From seeing the effect sugary stuff has on my niece and nephews it is a wonder that it isn't illegal to feed it to kids. I guess we have spent the last few years building up an immunity to iocane powder, er I mean sugar.

All I can say is that it is a good thing I wasn't driving at the time. I might have been pulled over for a DUI.

Polygamous Chickens, Swifty George...again and Hobo Spiders. Holy Hell should I be a Buddhist or a terrorist?!

As you might have imagine from the title of this post, it was an eventful day yesterday. First things first, Swifty George finally emerged! Who knows where he has been these past couple of days. I came home last night and had a tickly feeling that I should look under my bed. Lo and behold there he was hiding out like I wasn't going to know. He is kind of funny like those big creatures that think they can hide behind little things. When I was first trying to catch him he would speed over to a tea-light holder or something else small like that and try to hide. You could totally see half of him poking out, bits of legs and feelers, but he was just sure that I was going to pass him by. Anyway, I finally stealth moded my way over and caught the little fellow. I took pictures. It is hard to see but he really is in the vase.




















And just in case you are wondering I relocated him outside so he can hide under blades of grass or behind small pebbles. My face is exultant from actually catching the bugger. A shout out for Swifty!

Well about two minutes after the successful capture my roomate points out this crazy spider web on one of little lights on my cute garden-partyesque string of lights.



Here is a visual, though the spider is being shy for the camera. Soon after she points out the web, the spider comes crawling out of his new treehouse and she gets this look in her eye. It is that look of ...I know something that I really should tell you, but I really don't want to. She said, "I think that is a Hobo Spider". What?! Holy Hell. Hobo Spider. In My Bedroom. Are you kidding me? Can I have a break from the bugs please? Needless to say I spend the next hour scrambling around trying to figure out if I should kill it, or if it is my greatgrandmother. Not to mention that killing it would require that it get out of my fairy light. I didn't really want to smash the light as well as the spider.

So what do you do when you are scrambling avoiding necrosis-causing spiders? Google, of course. I now feel like an expert on Hobos. Did you know that they aren't very good climbers and will most likely be around baseboards etc. instead of on your ceiling. Bet you didn't.

And the end of the story? I have to get my leg amputated, but other than that the lights are fine. Just kidding..... It turns out it wasn't a Hobo!! (I would understand if you need to jump up and dance for joy). Apparently Hobos have a cousin spider that look verrrrry similar except on their legs there are these rings of color. Hobos legs are all uniform in color, but these barn funneling spiders have these rings. And my spider had ringed legs. A barn funnel weaving spider. Great name. Praise all of the spider gods because these cousins are not dangerous. As soon as I found that out, I let the spider be and went to bed as it was an ungodly hour at that point. Today barn funnel guy got relocated. I now petition the bug gods for no more crazy bugs, especially in my bedroom. I was so nice and took them outside...so please, please? Shoot maybe I was supposed to do a sacrifice instead.

And the chickens/roosters? To clarify, since there was a bit of confusion, the gaggle is composed of both chickens and roosters. Many roosters. Many chickens. Many husbands. Many wives. It is not surprising that on George Q. Cannon's old property the wild chicken posse (I think I call all chickens and roosters, chickens.) is polygamous or communal or something. I wonder which one is the second wife, and if they rotate with their sister chicken wives sleeping with the roosters. Alright, alright I am done.

Chicken Posse

I live in Salt Lake City. Just a hop skip and a jump away from Downtown. And I live on 3 acres of land. You are probably wondering how I managed that. I am still wondering how I managed that. But if anyone could, it would be me. It is this random block of properties that are all about 3 acres right in the middle of a regular subdivision. You look across the street and you think you are in a neighborhood. You look out our backyard and it is the sticks. I love it.

Besides the horses, goats, sheep and the lone duck there is a gaggle (flock? herd?) of chickens that is pretty much a wild cock renegade posse. No one feeds them. No one gets their eggs. They just wander the neighborhood pecking and cock-a-doodle-dooing. And if anyone has ever wondered, the cock-a-doodly-doo happens waaay before the sun comes up, around um 4:30. I'm surprised there hasn't been a drive-by-rooster shooting. Yeah there is no happy, cheerful cockeling to wake up the sun, which in turns wakes us up with a smile sending yellow beams of sunlight all over the world. It ends up being this croaking sound that makes you wonder if the rooster is on it's deathbed. Luckily I have managed to stop waking up in the early hours of the morning, unless they happen to be right under my window.

Here is a picture from my side window.

I have taken to calling them the Chicken Posse because there is this funny air about them like they are some old military group that never disbanded and totally own the place, and the street for that matter. It is many a day that I will come home and have to stop in the middle of the road and wait till the chickens get out of the way with indignant looks on their faces. Usually when I walk out to my car a number of them will look up in surprise and shake their red thingies at me as if they just couldn't believe I was doing such a thing. I have also seen them perch themselves on various fences, trees etc. around the block. They then croak messages to each other as if they are on watch duty. The Rooster Sentinel. "Sqwack! Frank, here's one coming. Get to the fence. Get to the fence." Or something like that I'm sure.

Did I mention the Duck? There is also one lone duck that seems to be apart of this Posse. If it were a person it would be some cute, old, senile lady that wanders the streets looking for who knows what. The Wandering Duck. The Rooster Sentinel. Welcome to the Funny Farm.

One last picture. Here is a chicken standing guard at our gate.

Eye Sex (I'm really not trying to be sensational)

I was reading the other day an article written on Chris Carrabba. He is the lead singer in the band Dashboard Confessional (see My new love affair post). It talked about his almost unnerving way of staring at a particular audience member during a concert. He said that when he finds someone that is really connecting to the music that he will connect with them and have "eye sex".
Yes, there is a picture...dreamy. Mmm very dreamy. Alright alright I will stop drooling. But back to eye sex. So the phrase has made me think. Usually there is such a connotation of meaning connected to the word sex, that many people might be turned off by that phrase, eye sex. Yet, I really like it. I really like the idea of being very intimate and connected to someone through your eyes. And have it not only be beautiful but perfectly appropriate.

On a side note, but a connected note, The other day my roomate was eating an avocado. She stopped right in the middle, and got the most delighted expression on her face. She then proceeded to make satisfactory noises about how beautiful the avocado was. The color. The curve of it's shape. The smell. And I told her she was making love to her avo. She heartily agreed. We then made jokes about french-kissing your food of course. And the conversation has stuck with me for a couple of days. I like the idea of me making love to my food, of really, completely being swallowed up in the entire experience of eating. Taste, smell, curves etc. and acknowledging how much I love it. I feel like I am really in the moment. Really experiencing all of that moment.

Here is one more picture if anyone wants to drool.

Bugs and Buddhism

I live in a house that was built in 1890...polygamist house, George Q. Cannon lived in it at one point. And I am pretty sure those are all reasons as to why I have these amazingly big leggy bugs in my house. Here is a picture so you can be squeemish with me. The longest one I have seen so far has been 4-5 inches!!!!

I really try to be kind to all of the creatures. I tell them nicely that I really don't want them in my house, especially the bedroom. Then if they didn't take the hint and walk themselves out I will usually catch them and take them outside. But these little buggers are fast. I read somewhere that they have the nickname of Swifty. Heh heh that is kind of cute. They are even a little cute . And they are supposed to eat such nasties as cockroaches, spiders, bedbugs, termites etc. I just can't find it in my heart to kill them. So I am in a predicament. You see they are too swift for me just to catch them without maiming them...unless I am in Stealth Mode and catch them off guard. But I really don't like them in my bedroom. I mean what if they crawl on my bed. On my face. Crawly legs on my leggies. Ugh.

The whole reason I am writing this post is because right now this minute there is a House Centipede named Swifty George in my room and I can't catch it. I figured I would distract myself for a bit, blog and then try again.

Like I said, I tried talking to it. (That is how I know his name is Swifty George). But alas to no avail. Alright, alright I will quit procrastinating. I'm off to try again, riding into the windmill.

The fifth belt hole

Today I finally reached my life goal and now can rest in peace. I reached the fifth belt hole. Now, now I will explain. Don't worry.

I have been blessed with very tall, skinny jeans, I mean genes. (The funny thing is I really did accidently type jeans). My Dad is enormously tall, something like 6'4" and at one point probably weighed 150 pounds. He is the source of my skinny genes. My legs are ridiculous. Very long. You could even say lusciously long. :) BUT I also have a fat gene somewhere. Some jabba-the-hut gene that snuck in. No, I am not one of those fortunate human beings that can eat whatever the hell they want and always have glowing skin, flatboard tummys etc. And somehow those people when they do gain weight gain it all in the right places... They end up with bootylicious asses, boobylicious D-cups and still a flatboard tummy. In some areas, life is very unfair. You see I did not get one of thooossse flab genes but one of the ooottther flab genes. When I get fatty I gain it all in my waist. I then lose my waist and begin to look like a dolphin or a whale. My butt starts to get v-shaped since the weight is still being gained as close to the waist as possible. So the lower half of my butt doesn't get the fat. Then, and only then, after all of that has puffed out, do I gain weight in my arms and legs. It is a weird thing I tell ya. I might even get brave and put up some pictures so you can all appreciate the interestingness of my fat gene. Ach! I did it! Well there you go....the beautiful v-butt. Eh, it is all good. It kind of makes you want to squish it...being all v-like.

Moving on. So about 2-3 months ago a side-long glance in some random mirror shocked me into realizing that I had gotten a little more v-butty than usual. It was time for some change... Started running, drinking more water, eating more fresh stuff and whole-grain stuff and not so much of the yucky-for-you stuff. Began drinking my green sludgies again (a cousin to the smoothie...though an entire post by itself should be devoted to the green sludgies. Look for it about next week.) I even did sit-ups for like the first month. And I am proud to say that I have lost almost 20 pounds. Crazy eh?

Now to the belt...every so often I have had to cinch up my belt one more notch. I started out wearing it at the number 2 notch....number 3 was pretty tight. And then when number 3 was feeling good, that was cool. Theeen last week I could wear my belt at the number 4 and I was feeling pretty pretty spiffy. The thought at that point was, well some day I will be able to cinch up to number 5 (which happens to be the last hole on the belt) and then I will have reached somewhere important. For some reason belt hole number 5 was it. I figured it would be a least another month. But...drum roll....today it happened. I wasn't expecting that. It seemed impossible that I could be at the five already. But no...it happened. Just like that. It is kind of trippin' me. What other things in my life am I assuming are going to take a long time. This reminds me of what I was thinking yesterday. Maybe more impossible things really are possible. I mean really possible.

I guess I might actually be levitating next week.

a little bit of whine and musings about the (im)possible

I sit. Exhausted though it is only 3 in the afternoon. I haven't eaten enough today and apparently that is important. Why do I have to be so dependent on food? There should be a way around that you know. Some way where if I didn't want to eat, I wouldn't have to. Ah, I get why I am bugged. Deep down, somewhere inside of me, there is someone that hates doing stuff she doesn't want to do. She sounds kind of like a 3 year-old.

"You can't make me do anything! You are not my mommy!" and sometimes she says things like "Just because you are my mommy, doesn't mean I have to do what you say!" Ha ha I'm 29, right?

You know, I think there is more to this than my residual childhood issues. I think that before we were on this Earth, and later on after we are on this Earth, we won't be dependent on physicality, food, shelter. Duh, right? And I know this inside of me so part of me is saying..."argh this again?" Duh, right? Well in the last little while I have been hearing of incidents of people that don't seem to be so dependent on this physical world. I have been hearing about monks that can sit on mountainsides without being affected by the changing weather. I heard about a woman that walked for peace...just walked and walked and wouldn't eat until offered food. She didn't have shelter, or weather-appropriate clothing and was fine. Then there is my friend who told me that she sat and watched the Dali Lama produce butterflies out of thin air....as if the rules of this physical realm didn't quite apply. Now that I think about it, I suppose I have had an experience like this when I did a firewalk. It was at least 1300 degrees f, and I didn't get burned. We wrote down on a piece of paper that day: "The impossible is possible. Today I walked on fire."

So I wonder about what else is really actually possible that I have always thought impossible. I have always been told that all things are possible to God. And with that came a slew of rules and limitations stemming from us and our sins so that all things really weren't possible to God, just what He could do with what we were giving Him. That though is a topic for another day, I think.

Back to wondering....John Updike once said something to the effect of "Dreams come true, otherwise nature wouldn't incite us to have them." But I have wild dreams...of my being able to fly and time-travel, stuff like that. I can hear my past saying, "well yeah all of your dreams will come true in the next life if you keep the commandments." A part of me isn't accepting that anymore. A part of me stirs inside and hints at impossible possibilities that can happen here, now. I might be levitating next week.

My new love affair...

I have this great friend, who happens to also be my guitar teacher since she is AMAZING at the guitar. She rocks. She's pretty much...the jam. Now at this point you might be thinking that she is my new love affair, but no. No it is not my stellar, fantabulous friend but one of the music groups she stashed on my iPod like four months ago. I wasn't really paying attention as she listed off groups and asked if I wanted some of their music. I would just nod and say something affirmative. I didn't recognize half of their names, and was feeling a little stupid because I didn't recognize half of their names. So I said, "Hell ya, give me some that too. Yeah, sounds good. Love it."

Well yesterday I decided to break out of my usual Switchfoot mold (my most recent addiction) and listen to something new. I scrolled down and saw Dashboard Confessional. The name intrigued me and I pushed play. Well needless to say, I haven't listened to much but them since. I'm in love. Scandalously in love. Then I looked them up on the internet today and discovered that the main singer is hawwt (hot) to boot. Can't get much better than this for one of those music crushes where you will probably never actually meet them in person.

But their music....the lyrics...the way the tempo, dynamics and notes augment what is being said. I can't get enough. Let me share with you my current (heh heh that will be funny in just a moment) favorite song:

It is entitled Currents (see...get it? Ok, it wasn't that funny).

The air is visible around you
Rising up and off your lips
In slow currents
And I watch
As your face is framed in it’s
Slow currents
Drifting curls, a trailing path
A long drag becomes
A tress of blue and ash

If it is born in flames
Then we should let it burn
Burn as brightly as we can

If it’s got to end
Then let it end in flames
Let it burn all the way down

The air is visceral around us
Turning in its simple steps
On slow currents
And I watch

As it pirouettes and spins
In slow motion
A long drag comes
A slow dance

In a halo of ember

If it is born in flames
Then we should let it burn
Burn as brightly as we can

If it’s got to end
Then let it end in flames
Let it burn all the way down

All the way down

And if this is ever meant to end
Then I hope it ends where it began

So hot with love we burned our hands
If this is ever meant to end

Then I hope it ends where it began
So hot with love it burns our hands

If it is born in flames
Then we should let it burn
Burn as brightly as we can

If it's got to end
Then let it end in flames
Let it burn (Let it burn)

If it’s got to end (Let it burn)
If it’s got to end (Let it burn)
It ends where it began
So hot with love
It burns our hands



Gah, those words are beautiful. Now, I highly recommend checking out the song somewhere because the music brings out a tone in the words that might not be apparent from just a read. It hints at those times when you are so into someone that time and space seem to slow down and eddy around you, that your hearts seems to vibrate together and you can communicate with each other without speaking. It hints at those vibrant vibrant times that become unforgettable. Mmmm I think I need another listen. Peace out.

My first spew....a beautiful mess.

So much to spew about....so little time. I was noticing today how much I kept wanting to say sorry to like everyone that gets within 10 million feet of me. Ah I'm sorry you spilled your pasta and it got all over! Oh I'm so sorry that I looked at you wrong! Sorry I invited you to every petition there is on facebook! Sorry if you are offended by any possible thing that I do! Sorry if you are offended by anything that I didn't do! Sorry if you are just offended! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! (wheeze)

Why do I feel like I am the official bandaide of the world? Or that if anyone ever feels anything except complete bliss in my presence that I did something wrong and am most likely going to hell? Well, who knows how the inner cogs of my mind work, but I think the sorries are going to stop. At least the ones that are saying I'm sorry that I exist; that because I exist your life must be a little harder. We are all down here on this messy, perfect Earth gaining experience, learning, growing, screwing up....not screwing up. There must be some better way to say that...not screwing up...making beautiful things happen. And it all comes together for our good. Everything we do and experience, everyone we meet gives us something for our good. So I'm not sorry if you don't like my garlic breath. I'm not sorry if you are offended by my un-made bed. And I'm certainly not sorry if something I say makes you cringe. I am willing to sit down and have a conversation about why you are offended. But I'm not sorry. I live! I mess up! and it is beautiful.

What in the hee-haw IS a blog?

Well, I have a blog. Finally, a blog. Everyone I know has a blog. They blog about their day. They blog about life. They blog funny. They blog serious. Blog blog blog. Sounds kind of like bog. And I am kind of excited....ha.

I think it is sort of a strange phenomenon (I wonder if that is spelled right. I am hearing in my head old English teachers telling me to look it up, but it is too late and I am too tired.) I think it is sort of a strange phenomenon this whole blogging thing. First of all just the name is bizarre. Blog. Like I said, sounds like bog, smog, log. Ahhhh, I looked it up (I know I know...but it was more interesting than how to spell phenomeenom). Web Log..weblog...and then somehow the first letters got all squished off and now we say blog. or we blog. weblog. Sounds like something about the Boy Scouts.

But I like it. I like the fact that millions of people out there are weeblogging, writing their thoughts down for other millions to see, or at least hundreds, or 10? What an interesting, detached way to connect with people, like a book but so much faster.

So here it goes. Weblelogging here I come. I am going to vomit all I have ever wanted to say on this webbog of mine. A lovely soup of thought.

alchemy: any magical power or process of transmuting a common substance, usually of little value, into a substance of great value.

chocolate: the food of the gods.