What I Know For Sure - Volume V

Have you missed this feature? It's been a while, and I've learned a few things lately so let's get up to speed. First, what Paul Reiser knows for sure:

“Sometime during those forty-five minutes between feedings when you actually are asleep, a little man comes and takes your nouns away.” - from his book "babyhood"

1. I don’t know what the going rate is for idiots these days but whatever it is, I’m grossly underpaid
2. Ron Paul has dropped out of the Presidential race. I could have saved him some money.
3. The Lakers can't win a playoff game EVEN IF THEY OCCUPY A 24 POINT LEAD.
4. Using a gas lighter instead of a torch to melt the brown sugar on your crème brulee does not produce the same effect - I learned this on Father's Day - I don't want you going around thinking I whip up crème brulee on random Tuesday nights
5. The commercials where they make real people look animated aren't cool
6. Applying moisturizing chap stick before buzzing on your bike through the buggy area of the lake is a bad, BAD idea
7. Purple jelly beans always suck
8. Sonic has happy hour every day from 2-4pm. Drinks and slushes are 1/2 price. What else do I need to know? Except that their shakes are also 99 cents during the month of June. And JUST now I learned that there is nothing on my keyboard that will produce the "cents" symbol. Has it always been that way?
9. Behind every good man in a road trip crisis is a good woman with a bag of wipes
10. Anyone who still operates under the notion that all black people have rhythm has never seen Oprah dance

Cautiously optimistic

This whole house thing has been a bit of a roller coaster, and I will spare you the gory details but as for now, our house is back under contract which means we are back to being excited about the house we're trying to buy. It is being built, and is supposed to be finished at the beginning of August. I have been negligent in remembering my camera on my visits to see the progress because I think part of me doesn't want to get too attached, but it's kinda too late. Anyway, my friend Ganelle went out there with me yesterday and since she was sick of me forgetting my camera, she brought hers instead and took some pictures. So, here's a little sampling of our (hopeful) new digs!

KIDS IN FRONT


THE BACK


LOOKING INTO THE FAMILY ROOM FROM THE KITCHEN - THIS IS WHERE WE WILL SNUGGLE UNDER BLANKETS WHEN IT'S SNOWING, OPEN CHRISTMAS PRESENTS AND WATCH THAT FIRST SEASON OF "MACGYVER" ON DVD THAT CORY GOT FOR FATHER'S DAY.


IF YOU COME TO VISIT ME, THIS IS WHERE YOU WILL READ MY EXTRA COPIES OF 'O' MAGAZINE WHILE YOU'RE CONDUCTING YOUR "BUSINESS" AND WHERE I WILL PROVIDE YOU WITH AMPLE SUPPLY OF PERT SHAMPOO


SAMANTHA STANDING IN SHOWER OF THE MASTER BATHROOM WITH MY FRIEND'S LITTLE BOY - LET'S HOPE THIS DOESN'T BECOME A HABIT


DREW IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MASTER BEDROOM

Dear Dad, Thank you...

…for coming to my high school basketball games and yelling almost as loud as mom.
…for pretending you liked Wile E. Coyote as much as we thought you did.
…for hating to discipline us, but loving us enough to do it anyway.
…for insisting that the guy selling you the used car fill out the proper sale amount on the paperwork, even though he was trying to do you a favor by reducing it. You didn’t believe in favors unless they involved integrity.
…for loving Tim Conway.
…for teaching summer school so many years in a row because we needed the money. In case you wondered if anyone noticed besides mom, we did.
…for going to college.
…for saying "bollocks" and "aaaaaaargh!" and "ghe-mi-ga-shu-maaaaahhhhhh!" When you were mad, usually while working on cars, instead of…other things.
…for the killer song machine you gave me for my 21st birthday, and for drilling a hole in the dashboard to install it so it could be heard effectively throughout my college town.
…for always wanting to do the right thing.
…for being the kind of high school biology teacher that never ate out, and instead ate in his classroom with the doors open for any students who might need a listening ear or just a place to go.
...for thinking that $15 for a shirt is a ripoff.
…for leading a group of family and friends in a rousing rendition of “I’m A Yankee Doodle Dandee” in the airport with banjos and red, white & blue Styrofoam hats when coming to pick me up after my first airpline flight, which fell on the fourth of July. (For those of you who know me, but not my father, does this help explain things?)
…for regularly telling us that you loved us. We could always tell when you’d had a particularly hard night in the Bishop’s office. You would walk in the door, half hunched over with strain written into your forehead and interrupt “Knight Rider” to make sure we knew it. We did. We do. I love you too Dad. Happy Father’s Day.

How Social Security tries to kill us off

If you are planning to spend a few minutes on the internet today, I have found the best way for you to use it. It comes to you from my friend Kira, a very gifted writer who is not only hilarious, but even more hilarious. Grab a cold one, sit down, and READ THIS. Then READ THIS. It ends in universal victory.

Do you believe in miracles?

In the planning of our summer schedule we have dedicated our Wednesdays as "Pool Day". This sounds fun, right? When you hear the word "pool" don't you start dreaming in different shades of aqua blue and fantasizing about nonchalantly sipping your cold beverage while donning the coolest, newest, hippest sunglasses? Yeah, me neither. My sentiments are more like, WHAT? I'm supposed to wear a bathing suit? Like, with other people around?

The last time I bought a bathing suit was six years ago. I went into a department store and saw a section labeled "Miracle Suits", figured they were talking to me, and bought this little number. Cute, right? It claims to take off ten pounds in ten minutes. It comes pretty close, although being able to achieve deep breaths while wearing the suit is irrelevant to the makers of this product. Nevertheless, I'm open to compromise when discussing revealing one's thighs at weekly conventions of Moms Who Should Not Be Allowed To Claim Childbirth And Look Like That. Also, I'd like to let the brains behind the operation of Miracle Suit know that there's more work to be done. Metaphorically speaking, more mountains yet to climb. As in, it's time for me to buy another bathing suit. Are you with me? I need more than a miracle, and I'm willing to give you more than ten minutes. C'mon, what have you got?

I'm A Hummer

When I was in college I had a roommate Nicole who used to make fun of me for humming all the time. I didn’t even know that I was a hummer until she pointed it out, and then I started to pay more attention and realized that she was right. I hummed ALL the time. She was also my roommate during the period when Cory and I were dating. He and I had been seeing each other for about eight months when he made it known that his feelings were pretty serious. Like, eternally serious. He sensed that I wasn’t ready so we continued to date and left the “m” word out of it. Halloween night of 1992 became a pivotal moment in our relationship. I spent all day feeling very strongly that I needed to break up with him – that night we spent the evening at separate events with friends and afterward he came to my apartment to see me. Everyone was already in bed and all the lights were off, so we went into the dark kitchen where we started to talk. I couldn’t hold it in any longer, and I told him that I needed to walk away from our relationship. He hugged me tight while our emotions bubbled over the surface and then he respected my wishes, let me go, and walked out the door.

A few days later Nicole nonchalantly weighed in and stated, “You’ve stopped humming.” She was a keen observer. For two weeks I zombied my way from class to class and moderately stalked what was now my former boyfriend. I’d stare out my window from the Humanities building and watch him walk by after my Spanish class, lamenting our former routine of walking that sidewalk together on those days. One afternoon I stood behind the freshman dorms which boasted a view of his campus employment just so I could see him exit the building at the end of his shift. I stopped eating. Just kidding. Who does that? Lots of people, I know. But I’ve never known a crisis that didn’t improve when garnished with a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Where was I? Oh yes, break up remorse. I was miserable without Cory in my daily routine. Two weeks later I had a big test to study for and decided that I needed the private confines of the library instead of the bustle of activity that was my apartment, so I gathered my books, shoved them into my bag and set out for campus. On my way out I saw the phone and I thought to myself, “Self, studying would be good and important and the main reason that your parents are paying thousands of dollars in tuition for you to be here. Also, I think I will call Cory.” I called, he answered, and I asked if I could come over. He said “yes”.

His roommate answered the door with a grin and confessed that he was glad I was back, and then I entered the kitchen where Cory stood. He was making guacamole, and when he saw me a smile spread across his face that made my insides calm down and he came over to put an arm around my waist and give me a sideways hug. I was instantly cured. We looked at each other and determined that perhaps a drive was in order. I navigated my “Beast” (as my suburban was affectionately called) to the base of the mountains in Provo where we talked for three hours. I mostly confessed that in addition to losing my ability to hum my way through life the act of breathing, sleeping and functioning at acceptable levels had become increasingly difficult since our breaking up. He said, “I made out with two other women while we were apart but it’s only because I missed you so much” “let’s give this another shot.” My lungs filled with air and exhaled fully for the first time in two weeks as my world became whole again. The next morning I resumed humming and bought donuts for my roommates for breakfast, and Nicole said she liked it when Cory and I got back together. Four months later he proposed to me at the Springville Art Museum and four months after that we were married in the San Diego Temple. That was fifteen years ago today, and I’ve never looked back.

Happy Anniversary Studly.

Wondering...

Are there people who still think that calling Arnold Schwarzenegger "The Governator" is funny?

Blonde Joke

My brother Mike works two jobs - one where he earns a paycheck, and the other is a part-time gig where I swear he does nothing but forward me funny emails. Here's one I'll share:

A blonde calls her boyfriend and says, 'Please come over here and help me. I have a killer jigsaw puzzle, and I can't figure out how to get started.' Her boyfriend asks, 'What is it supposed to be when it's finished?' The blonde says, 'According to the picture on the box, it's a rooster.' Her boyfriend decides to go over and help with the puzzle. She lets him in and shows him where she has the puzzle spread all over the table. He studies the pieces for a moment, then looks at the box, then turns to her and says: 'First of all, no matter what we do, we're not going to be able to assemble these pieces into anything resembling a rooster.' He takes her hand and says, 'Second, I want you to relax. Let's have a nice cup of tea, and then ...' he said with a deep sigh, 'Let's put all the Corn Flakes back in the box.'

Worst Daughter Ever Award goes to...

Moi. It's not that I forgot her birthday, it's just that I didn't happen to remember it on the actual day. The woman who said, "Honey, it's OK. Drop the Geography class" when I called her from my college dorm room, stressed with too many credits, did not receive a call from me on May 15th to wish her a happy birthday. This is the same woman who was never late picking me up from school, who put presents in my lunch on Valentine's Day, who sent me sappy cards in college with her handwritten message that scathed, "Who in their right mind would ever send a card like this ON PURPOSE??" and then sent me flowers after a bad day. This is a woman who deserved to be remembered on the day she was born from one that she gave birth to, but I forgot. Not even 24 hours later forgot, SEVEN DAYS LATER forgot!! Mom, I would like to say I'm sorry by telling the internet how cool you are. I love you! Happy Birthday.

Up & Running

We still have some tweeking to do on our new blog, but for the most part we are up and running! Here's where you can find me and some other really great women. This is going to be fun!

Dude, I'm stoked

Have you noticed that "Dude" has made a comeback? Good news for me, since I never really moved on from it. Although I'm pretty sure "stoked" is still mostly reserved for stoners.

But Dude! The reason I am stoked (stoner or not, it's effective) is because we bought a house today! We tried to put a contract on it Saturday but ran into a few problems, namely that somebody else beat us to it. We are lucky, and he backed out. It is going to be awesome.

Right?

Friend or foe? You decide.

You know how in elementary school it was the kid who gave you the most grief that supposedly liked you the most? Is that also true for adults?

Friday night our church had a fundraising activity to help the youth earn money for their summer camps. We paid to get in, paid to play games and do activities, and then auctioned off all the donated desserts that people brought. A dozen cinnamon rolls went for $120. I watched a guy pay $110 to buy back the cake that his WIFE brought! Crazy.

Then in the corner of the room were three jars with three different names on it. I was one of them. Throughout the night people could put money in the jars, and the one with the most money in the end would get a pie in the face. (You see where this is going?) Our friend Erik was also one of the three contenders, and every time someone put a dollar in his jar, he put a dollar in mine. The Bishop saw my jar and shoved a $20 in it. When they tallied the end results and ruled me as the "winner", they added, "Let's just say it wasn't close." THEN they auctioned off the opportunity to be the one to throw the pie in my face, and raised another chunk of cash.

I can't decide whether this scenario represents a congregation of Kristy haters who have been dying for a chance like this, or if it's more like that 2nd grade mentality where the one getting picked on might actually be liked by the class. Either way, I got a pie in the face and I think the people enjoyed it. And if that doesn't pay for Samantha's summer camp, I quit.

The Scoop

Several months ago I was approached about doing a group blog with a few other writers. For money. It has taken a while for the idea to get off the ground, but Monday I flew out to Salt Lake City to meet with the other writers and fine tune our plans. Having been mostly a stay-at-home mom for the last twelve years I have to admit that flying out for a "business meeting" wearing clothes that in no way resembled my pajamas while hooking up my laptop to the airport WiFi made me feel cooler than it should have. I haven't worn heels for that long since, like, Adam.

Anyway, we have been test driving the other website for a couple of weeks and are hoping to go live on Monday if all the graphic design for the site is ready to go. When that happens, I'll let you know the address and how you can find me over there if you're interested. I suspect that my posting here may become a little irregular since I'd like to do all I can to make the other site a success, but I hope you'll hang with me!

Mother's Day

Mother's Day highlight: Cory made me crepes for breakfast.
Lowlight: Drew was given a handout at church to fill in about his mom. For example:
If I could give my mother anything, I'd give her a ________________.
I love my mother because ____________________.
It was a lengthy handout, so most of Drew's spaces were left blank. However, he managed to fill in the following:
The first thing my mother does when she wakes up is...SHE SLEEPS IN.
He knows me so well.

Under Contract

Apparently it's supposed to be really hard to sell a house in this market, yet somehow, in less than a week we have found a buyer for our home. We have been negotiating for a couple of days, and today we are officially under contract. I think I'm supposed to be excited, but instead I'm feeling really close to streaking through my neighborhood to relieve stress. Plus, that would help my neighbors cope with my leaving. Trust me, they are all broken up about it.

The annoying thing about selling our home, however, is this nagging feeling that perhaps I should hurry and find another one. From what I hear this isn't supposed to be very hard. I can even look at homes from home! I can conduct searches by simply typing in square footage or a neighborhood or even a zip code and find hundreds of homes for sale. I can go to zillow.com and see aerial views, select the panoramic photographs and take a virtual tour, and check the family watch dog site to make sure there are no registered sex offenders on my block. Incredible friends to the realtors, these websites.

Still, I would find it helpful if they would add options to conduct a search on neighbors who will let you borrow eggs, addresses for people who make bread for a living and constantly bring you leftovers, and links to housing developments where Brad Pitt look-alikes roam the streets with their lawnmower, in search of opportunities to mow people's lawns for free. With their shirts off. House hunting should be awesome.

"You haven't posted for four days and THIS is the best you can do?"

When someone uses the term, "all the nooks and crannies", what the heck is a cranny?

For Sale

A few years ago my friend Ganelle and I were engaged in a healthy prank war. I guess you could say it was always ongoing, but it escalated one day when I was at her house and she needed to run a quick errand while her baby slept, so I offered to babysit for a few minutes. When she left, my eyes searched the room for the remote control but got distracted by the bookcase where she housed all of her scrapbooks from years past. A brilliant idea overcame me, and I quickly began flipping through the pages of a book until I found a picture taken during one of her first years as a high school teacher. She wore an embroidered sweater vest and sported a haircut more appropriate to ten years previous. It was perfect. I yanked it out and stuffed it in my purse.

I brought it home, made a color copy, wrote a cheesy update on her life (something about putting off teaching for a while so she could accept a promotion as CEO of T&T Inc.; the initials of her two young boys) and mailed it to her college alumni magazine. She was featured in the next issue.

A few months later our family went to Mexico for a family reunion. Ganelle was aware of this, and planned her retaliation in advance. At her first opportunity before we left on vacation, she stole my house key, made a copy, and returned it to its rightful spot before I noticed. She was busy in our absence. When we came home we found that every picture on the walls in our house had been replaced with a picture of HER, in various sizes. She had made 140 copies – if they weren’t in a frame, they had been hidden in other parts of the house. I was finding them for months. Also, she put our house up for sale. She borrowed a “For Sale By Owner” sign from a realtor friend and stuck it in our yard with her phone number on it. She got two calls and a visit from our neighbor who lamented as Ganelle pounded the sign into our grass, “Awww, all the good ones are leaving!”

But back then it was a joke. Today it is for real. The “For Sale” sign went up in our yard this afternoon, making it official. Despite the fact that we are making this decision voluntarily, and we’re probably not going more than 15 minutes away, it’s really hard to see it there. It’s just so…non conducive to denial. A bit of a problem when denial serves as one’s “happy place”. Still, I am focusing on the positive, not the least of which is my realtor who struck a deal with my kids the night we signed the papers saying he would give them each ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS on the day of our closing if I could vouch that they had worked really hard to keep the house clean. Brilliant, my realtor. It’s already working. The kids had the day off from school today and Drew asked me early on, “So, what are we doing today?” I thought he was referring to a fun outing, and I assured him he would be playing with friends in the afternoon. “No,” he said. “I mean what do I need to do to help clean today?” He scrubbed the bathroom and did other jobs for over an hour this morning. If you ever move to Denver and need a realtor, I will hook you up! In the meantime, I think I'll sit and enjoy the cleanliness that is not likely to last until morning.

Music and Lyrics

I do not love gardening, and gardening does not love me. If John Denver were still alive I would call him up and say, “Dude, time for you to come up with one new song and go back on tour and you’re welcome because I have a new verse to add to 'Sunshine On Your Shoulders'.” And he would say, “No WAY!” And I would say, “WAY!” and then sing the following: Goat heaaaaaads in my fingerrrrrrrrrs hurt so badlyyyyyyy.

He would go on tour and pay me royalties and I would be rich. Too bad he’s dead, ‘cuz I don’t have a backup plan.

I swear, I don't even say the words "home improvement" in this post anywhere

When I was working as a professional my resume said things like, “strong attention to detail, goal oriented, calm under pressure,” and I had all the technological experience necessary to support a group of fresh college graduates down a path of experience they soon relegated unworthy of the thousands they paid in tuition.

Now the bad news. That girl is dead. My strong attention to detail doesn’t seem to be spilling over into the laundry department, my list of goals has been demoted to a list of DON’Ts, like don’t spray cement into the mouths of your neighbors’ dogs, don’t put the open paint can there, and for the love of all that is good and holy don’t kid yourself into thinking that you can fit in that window well to clean the other side of that window. That whole “calm under pressure” bit? Doesn’t apply to children. Technological experience? I still tape my favorite shows on my VCR and get my phone messages from an answering machine we got as a wedding present fifteen years ago. I can get my email and read my blog comments, DO NOT HASSLE ME.

My latest discovery: Multi-tasking was invented for other people. I would like to move. I would like to finish up those photography classes that I paid for two years ago. I want to scrapbook our lives from the last three years, and I would very much like to find the time to get back to Michael Vartan about that lunch date he has been hounding me for. Also, I would like to keep blogging because how else will I flaunt my lunch dates with celebrities? Plus, have I mentioned that I’ve been hired to blog for Deseret Book? More details on that to come. In the meantime, people say “change is good”. I hope those people don’t ever need to see my resume.

Lightbulb moment

In addition to visiting for Drew’s baptism, my parents and in-laws worked tirelessly to help us with a few projects around the house. One of them was installing some new lights. During the installation of our entryway light, we recognized that our 6' ladder wasn’t big enough to reach the high ceiling where the light connects. We called several people to see what we might be able to borrow, but everyone had about the same thing we did. My mom jokingly suggested pulling over my dining room table and putting the ladder on it at which point my dad’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm.

For real.

“Hey, that could work!” he piped. This was my cue to take the phone to the garage and call my sister to explain the scenario. “So mom said…and then dad was like, ‘excellent!’ and I’m like, ‘OR, not excellent!’” At this point my sister said, “What are you doing talking to ME? YOU GOTTA GET BACK IN THERE!” But in the time I was gone his enthusiasm had amplified for the increasing probability of landing himself either six feet under or in the Redneck Hall of Fame, so I ran to the neighbor across the street to see if she could please have a very tall ladder I could borrow before my dad ruined my beautiful dining room table killed himself, but she was all chatty and like, ‘The new paint job on your house looks great! So are you guys moving for sure? We’ve been thinking about it too. So who’s visiting…?’ then Cory ran over and got caught in the fray until he couldn’t hold it any longer and simply interrupted with, ‘Your dad is putting the ladder on four chairs. You might want to hurry back.” It took six adults to install one light, which we managed to do without any physical injuries. Emotional injuries, well, that’s up for debate.

My philosophy

It's the age old Philosophy 101 question posed to have us think outside the box of our naive college student minds, and it goes something like, "If a tree falls in the forest and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound?" The first time I heard this question I thought, “Does it matter?” I didn’t much excel at philosophy. Despite that, I’ve asked myself some equally poignant, self reflective and philosophical questions lately. For example, “If a ceiling fan goes unnoticed and unused for over a decade at the top of one’s stairs, does it still collect dust?”

I can declare with authority that the answer is yes. Yes, it does.

Overheard

On the radio: "I tell everyone I know about sedation dentistry."
On TV, promoting a disco aerobics class: "Fro and glitter pants not required."
In the car: "Usually I chase girls at recess but today my friends and I were on vacation."

What Drew wrote in his journal about his baptism on Saturday: "Today I got baptized. I had fun at my baptism and the water was all warm when I got in. When I got out of the water I felt like I did the right choice. I really liked the cookies they had. And I liked the cake too except I didn’t really like the middle that much."

I'm not TOTALLY dispensable. She still can't drive.

It's really been pretty hectic around here lately. As the rumors have indicated, we are planning to sell our house this summer, which means we are trying to get it ready to list in a couple of weeks. Hence all the posting about my home improvement woes. [Digression: One of my friends showed up at my door last night with homemade cinnamon bread on a piece of tile that said, "Sorry about all your tile woes". The bread was still warm, the frosting was a-plenty, and I'm all better now. How freakin' awesome are my friends???] Just think how lucky you are that I wasn't blogging when we were finishing our basement.

So yesterday, I got sick. The kind of sick where taking a shower is just preparation for a nap. But it wasn't the kind of day I could dedicate to naps and Sudafed because my in-laws and parents were both coming into town for Drew's baptism, which is Saturday. I made several compromises as to the state of my home upon their arrival, and luckily they are all ridiculously accommodating.

In summary: house in total disarray? check. company coming to serve as witnesses of our true ineptitude? check. no food for them to eat? check. sick? unable to breathe but for the magic of certain pills? check. kids getting to bed right on time at about the time the werewolves come out? check. But they did finally get to bed, and when I went to bid them a final goodnight, Samantha asked, "Hey Mom? How about if I just take the extra alarm clock and I'll get Drew up in the morning so you can sleep longer?" I said she was incredibly sweet, but that wasn't necessary. "Well, it's just that when I'm sick you take extra good care of me, but who's going to take care of YOU?" I gave her the alarm clock, she woke me when it was time to go, and we have never had a morning run more smoothly. I'd like to focus on the positive here, which is that my kid is awesome, and not the fact that she's basically a driver's license away from not needing me at all. Work with me.

If these walls could talk

If my walls could talk I think my living room might say something like, "Such nice taste in color Kristy has. I'm so happy to be taupe," and I really think my loft/office space identifies with being library red. If my furniture had a voice I think it would say, "How nice to be right by this window to watch the snowfall" or "I just love my cozy spot by the fireplace". I'd like to think the hardwood in my entry and hallway enjoys being the perfect surface to drag the kids over on a blanket, or to serve as the running track when friends are over.

As the newest member of our family, I am more curious about what our new kitchen floor has to say. Specifically, the grout. The grout that was put in, dried, sealed, cracked, dug out, put in again, sealed again, and is now starting to crack again. I can't be sure, but as I was on my hands and knees putting on the second coat of sealant this morning I swear it was contemplating, "Hmmm...how to say this nicely...you are too stupid for this kind of work." Then again, maybe that was me.

If all dogs go to heaven, I'm holding out for hell

My neighbor's dog barked for OVER AN HOUR last night. It began at 4:00 am and not until I was researching the internet to try and find their phone number did it finally stop. Incidentally, they are not listed. Naturally.

Not to worry, my other neighbor waited until 7:00am before hammering away on their new roof. As for the rest of my day, I will be a slave to the grout gods who, by the way, are getting way too manipulative with my time. I'm starting to feel like Cinderella, minus the singing prince and pretty dress. Not that I need a dude in pants that are too tight to spin me in circles while singing a gay song, but it wouldn't kill a fairy to show up with a new outfit.

And I lived happily ever after.