Archive for April, 2009

Getting Old

Posted in Daily Bread on April 29, 2009 by dunnthat

The first sign that I’m getting old is my sleep patterns are all screwy.  I. Love. My. Sleep.  Sleep is my best friend.  For the past couple of weeks I have been waking up butt early for no apparent reason.  Before my alarm.  And I just lie there (lay, lie? crap).  This seriously sucks.  Then I’m tired all day.

Of course there are the physical signs of getting old as well:

  • I can’t see.  Ten years ago I had Lasik surgery and the surgeon screwed up one of my eyes and accidentally gave me mono-vision, which slowed down the process of “old person short arm syndrome,” but it is now a train barreling down my track.
  • When I tie my shoes I think: What else can I do while I’m down here?
  • Similarly, I now put on one sock, one shoe, one sock, one shoe.  Because it’s less reaching than two socks, two shoes.
  • Every bit of in-house travel has to have at least two purposes; that is to say, if I go downstairs, I must have two errands on my agenda before it’s worth the trip.  For example, take something to my son’s room AND take something to the storage room.
  • Pertinent body parts are moving South. 
  • I’ve never been super fast, even in my prime, but now, in my head, I’m way faster than I actually am.  When I play basketball it’s like I’m running in pudding like a big, dumb animal.
  • When I get my hair colored (I have NO idea what my natural color is anymore) my hairdresser uses three colors:  highlights for the top, dark for underneath, and some other mix of who knows what to cover the gray.  (When she is rude enough to point out how much more gray I’m getting I have to remind her, “Less talking.  More coloring.”  GOSH.)
  • My triceps are getting flappy.
  • Excess skin under my chin.  A “wattle” if you will.

There is oh so much more, but I’m going to quit with the physical and move on to other awesome things about getting old…

So I always thought I’d be a young, cool grandma.  I earned it by having a child when I was a child.  Heck, by the time I went to my ten-year high school reunion I had THREE kids.  Nope.  I’m going to be an old grandma just like everyone else.  I have been in “grandma” prep mode for years.  I have spent a great amount of time trying to come up with my “grandma” name…a name that’s awesome and different from “grandma,” which can be confusing to kids when there are two people with the same name.  Here is my grandma name:  Gigi.  Took me awhile.  Don’t mock it.

The pervading effect of getting older is my lack of energy in crisis situations.  Example:  Let’s say my youngest asks, “Can I jump off the balcony onto the trampoline?”  Pause.  This is the first sign of getting older.  The actual “pause.”   Years ago my IMMEDIATE response would have been, “Are you on CRACK??”  Whereas now, there is a pause.  Some thought.  Then, “How far away is the trampoline from the balcony?”  “About ten feet down, but I’d have to jump out about ten feet to miss the rock retaining wall.”  Pause.  Pause.  “Well.  Be careful.”


Random thoughts

Posted in Daily Bread, Random thoughts on April 26, 2009 by dunnthat
  • How much Healthy Choice ice cream can I eat before it’s no longer a healthy choice?  Just wondering.  No particular reason.
  • Why do people who I think are mostly “good” people write “WTF”?  Do they think that because it’s an anacronym it’s not a bad word?  Of course, I say “BFE” on occasion, but my “F” stands for “freakin’.”  Just saying.
  • There is no such thing as “Better-Than-Sex” cake.  Perhaps “Almost-as-good-as” or “Reminiscent-of” but not “better-than.”  Sorry.
  • If nothing smaller than my elbow is supposed to go in my ear, why do Q-Tips feel so dang good?  I swear, if I were a dog, my leg would be going a mile a minute when I have a Q-Tip spinning in my ear like the earth orbits the sun.
  • Doesn’t my new picture make you want to waterski??  Really happened…this was Lake Powell in October, and we were too tired from skiing perfect water to ski this perfect water.  We wept.
  • Why is it that when I get my picture taken I always pull my chin back so that my pictures all look like I’m Jabba the Hut’s sister?  I know this.  I know it.  Yet, I still do it.
  • I picked up some diffuser scents at Costco (Yay) and now my house smells like fancy Raid.  I hate it.
  • Doesn’t it seem like blog formats have a lot of wasted space on the left and right side of the screen?
  • My oldest boy was just voted Biggest Heartthrob of the H4 (four Holladay Singles Wards combined).  This embarrasses him and thrills me.  He doesn’t want me to mention it because he worries it will look like he’s bragging, which he’s not.  Nope.  It looks like *I’m* bragging.  Which I am.
  • Speaking of offspring:  I just completed my soon-to-be returned missionary’s fall schedule for the U.  YAY!  Getting closer!
  • My skinny boys like Crystal Light and my skinny daughter-in-law hates chocolate.  How is that fair?
  • Dream last night:  I was a waitress at TGIFridays and I sucked.  And it woke me up and I couldn’t go back to sleep, which makes me hate it more.
  • There are 21 calories in one Swedish Fish.
  • There are 10 calories in one Hot Tamale.
  • Thank goodness each is fat-free.

Random thoughts from the Temple

Posted in Daily Bread, Random thoughts on April 25, 2009 by dunnthat
  • It’s creepy to check out women as potential daughters-in-law at the temple.  But I do it.
  • When did the loud back clap become the universal sign of congratulations in sealing rooms?
  • Early in the morning there is a quiet calm and peace, and the air smells nice.  Totally not worth it.  I’d rather experience calm and peace while I’m asleep.
  • However, parking at the temple is way easier early in the morning.  I’d still rather sleep.
  • It makes me physically ill to see people asking for money outside the temple doors.  It is a manipulation of emotion and I won’t participate. (I’m such a Republican…I give, don’t you worry, but I won’t be manipulated into giving.)
  • Brides are pretty.
  • Why are there lockers in the temple?  This is rhetorical.  I know why.  And it makes me sad.  It also makes me sad that I was worried about leaving my hot red cowboy boots in the shoe room.
  • Why do I get annoyed when I am walking behind slow people?  What’s my hurry??
  • It’s awkward to go to a temple sealing all by yourself, especially when you don’t know anyone there.  I feel like such a loser.  Can’t even get a date to the temple.
  • I found out today that it is a part of the sealer’s list of instructions to have the bride and groom look at the sealer while the ceremony is taking place.  I like this.
  • Kissing over the alter should be mostly chaste and not too long.  Good job Amy.
  • Same with after the rings.  Ew.  We KNOW you like each other.  No need to show us IN THE TEMPLE.  Again, good job Amy.

A Cautionary Tale

Posted in Daily Bread, In the News on April 24, 2009 by dunnthat

The time is 1:00 a.m.  A uniformed police officer is sitting in his unmarked car in his driveway finishing up a cell phone call with another officer before he heads into his house.  In his rear-view mirror he sees a teen-aged boy attempting to break into his wife’s car in the driveway.  He waits.  Unsuccessful, the boy moves from the wife’s car to the car in which the officer is still sitting.  When the boy reaches for the handle of the occupied car, the officer throws open his door and yells, “You’d better stop right there!  Police!”

And the boy messes his pants.

I’m not joking.

How does this happen?  If it were me, I can see wetting myself, but the other?  If I were this severely startled, I’d be stopped up for WEEKS.  I need ALL the right conditions for this natural occurrence to…occur.   It must be quiet.  I must be in my own environment.  No one can be in the general vicinity…I must hear no footsteps.  Reading material must be available.  (My California OB once said that when he told a mom in labor to push “like she was having a bowel movement,” she said, “I’ll need a Time magazine for that.”)  I must find my “center.”  All the stars must align with Venus.

This poor kid is going to have a terrible experience in jail.  I just know it.

P.S.  True story.  Centerville, Utah.

Costco Redux

Posted in Daily Bread, Tales of Yore on April 22, 2009 by dunnthat

It seems I’m not the only Costco junkie.  Let me share:  Not too long ago when I was a college student, I took a class called “Theories of Pop Culture.”  Believe it or not, this was a 5000 level class that met the second-tier English theory requirement for graduation.  Sadly, I heard the “f” word more times in that semester than I had my entire life.  I pretty much just handed my temple recommend over to the bishop with the words, “I’ll be back in three months.”  My youngest boy was on year-round school, and so during his “off track” period I had to take him to class with me.  Let me just say, his book on tape volume could not get loud enough to cover the language in “SLC Punk.”  Sigh.

This class was, for the most part, fun and interesting.  Our final project was to create our own “zine,” which is a publication in which raging youth voice their opinions on how crappy the world is.  Two girlfriends and I came up with “Grrrilla Warfare,” a zine for the empowerment of women.  It actually was quite good, if I do say so myself.


I wrote a piece for the zine about Costco and its evil influence on unsuspecting patrons in which I referred to Costco as “The Man.”  For those who don’t recognize the pop reference, “The Man” is organized ANYTHING that treads on flower people who just want to live, man. 

I enjoyed writing this piece.  I happen to think I’m funny.  I was reminded of it by your comments on the Seven jeans.  I thought some of you might enjoy it as well. 

Ward ladies:  this is definitely rated PG-13.  I’m just sayin’.  Don’t read it if you think you might get offended.  Consider yourselves warned.

{This includes you, too, Hannah.  I love that you read my blog…have your mom clean it up and print it out for you, okay?  Honor system sweetie.}

Second warning:  Do. Not. Read.  If you don’t watch PG-13 movies!

I’ve done my duty.  You have no one to blame but yourselves…

Proletariats UNITE!

Costco is evil.  Don’t try to dissuade me.  I know it’s true.  I am convinced there is some form of drug misting the air, distributed through the ventilation system, that makes us want to buy stuff we don’t need and can’t afford – and in large quantities.  Costco has figured out how to force us to buy beyond our needs and means, but they have also manipulated us into ENJOYING the experience of buying stuff we don’t need and can’t afford.  And that, my friends, is evil.

I make my case:  My name is Jane, and I am a Costco addict.  (Hi Jane)  Do you know what I call people who spend $100 at Costco?


I have a strong visceral reaction every time I walk into Costco’s cavernous warehouse.  And I don’t mean a little response.  This is a LARGE response.  Costco is an orgasmic experience.  There.  I said it.

So you tell me:  how else can you explain the physical reaction that mixes with the vacuous blank face that swallows me (a completely normal, intelligent human being) and every other Costco groupie who walks into the machine of THE MAN if it isn’t generated by drugs?

This is my theory:  Hallucinogenic substances are fed into some great diffusing machine that mixes good air with hallucinogen-tainted air, and then the mix is distributed through the forced air system in the exposed overhead hanging ventilation system.  We, the unsuspecting public, breathe deeply of the Costco biosphere, and then we quickly become unwitting zombies, relegated to the will of THE MAN that is Costco.  The Costco experience is a commodity conspiracy, and we are the hapless fools who buy into it.  Well I say, NO MORE!


No more walking into Costco just for milk and coming out with $426 worth of stuff I don’t need from the electronics isles that are situated neatly in the front of the store on the cold, slab-on-grade cement flooring.  No more buying $592 worth of food that will spoil before any army currently in combat anywhere in the world can eat it.  No more reams of paper stacked against the walls of my bedroom, waiting to print stuff I will never write.  No more boxes of 94 No. 2 pencils taking up 87% of the less-than-adequate space of my kitchen junk drawer (I use mechanical pencils for crying out loud!).  No more 3-pound bags of lettuce (already dressed up as salad) destined to turn into liquid brown in the extra fridge in the garage (purchased at Costco to house said Costco bulk items) before the bag is ever opened.  No more gallon jugs of  Round Up Weed Killer sitting on the floor in my garage when I don’t even have a garden.  No more stacks of “Kirkland” brand jeans folded neatly in my closet that I will never wear, in sizes I only dream of fitting into.  No more coming home from a hard two hours of shopping at Costco, having lifted very heavy things, and having spent a whopping $632.83 on groceries alone, only to have the kids ask, “What’s for dinner?” and realizing I have nothing for dinner.

No more snacking on “free” samples at the end of each over-sized erector set shelving isle, feeling smug for getting full at Costco’s expense. You THINK you are just getting a free lunch, but NO!  It is all part of the plan of THE MAN.  The plan is this:  Entice us to eat their food, (laced with hallucinogens, of this I have no doubt), then manipulate our subconscious into THINKING we want to buy that food.  Our brains, altered by the hallucinogen, mechanically move our feet, as we tread numbly forward as if participants in the Bataan Death March, over to the fresh pasta isle, and we buy.  We buy buy buy.  We buy LARGE quantities of food we don’t really even like but only taste on toothpicks at Costco because it’s free and we’re tired and hungry.  We buy this food we will never cook at home.  We buy this food that is destined to re-create Sir Alexander Fleming’s penicillin discovery in our fridges.  It is SICK, people!

The commodity conglomerate must be stopped!  Join with me!  We must be strong and actively boycott THE MAN.  Do you want someone else controlling your mind?  Of course not.  We should have the freedom to indulge in our OWN hallucinogens in amounts that WE have decided to be acceptable.  Don’t give Costco the power to alter your brain.  You don’t need to go to Costco to get your drugs!  (Except prescription drugs from the pharmacy – they are really quite reasonably priced – AAARRGH!!  See?  See how Costco corrupts a clever mind?)  You don’t need to go to Costco to achieve your orgasms!  Stop letting THE MAN dictate your pleasures, and stop buying into the commodity conglomerate!  Is everything for sale?  Are YOU for sale?

Excess is EVIL!  Costco is EVIL!


A Clean Desk is a Sign of a Sick Mind

Posted in Daily Bread on April 21, 2009 by dunnthat




Posted in Daily Bread on April 19, 2009 by dunnthat

Seriously ladies.  What’s the big deal? 

I unfortunately got sucked into “what’s hot” and bought a pair from Costco yesterday.  Actually, two pair, because I had no idea what “seven” size I was (two sizes, one to take back).  Even at Costco these jeans were $100.  I have never spent $100 on a pair of pants of ANY kind, much less JEANS for crying out loud.  But, it was Costco, you know?  I had to have them (I am a seriously compulsive Costco shopper…it’s a disease).

So I got home and tried on the smaller pair – you know, all hopeful and everything.  Oh I got them zipped and on all right, because they are so freaking low-riding and who has any girth below the bum curve, but I had serious muffin-toppage.  I felt like some of those fine women who don’t seem to have a mirror of any kind and who often live in West Valley and have really high arched and really skinny eyebrows.  This is NOT a good look for me.  I kept thinking, huh, what do I look like?  Here are some thoughts: a light bulb, an upside down pear, a fat bat, Mrs. Potato Head, a pillow too large for its case, a poor unfortunate woman who was poured into her pants and forgot to say “when.”

But really, an overfilled muffin with toppage spilling over does seem to describe it the best.  Not good.  Not good at all.

So, on to the second pair.  Also got them zipped and on.  I looked pretty darn good standing up.  Minimal muffin toppage.  However… sitting down… another story entirely.  Who wears these??  And do you really like them?  You DO realize that your children are going to mock you mercilessly when you’re showing them pictures of what was “cool” when you were a kid, right?  When I sat down, the top of the jeans in the back went so far under my butt that I was afraid I was hitting bare underwear on the chair.  This was beyond showing my hot lower-back tattoo.  This was like the teenage boys who don’t seem to understand that if their pants are below the bottom curve of their butts when they are standing, that is simply TOO LOW, and dude, your pants are going to fall off any second.

Here’s the good news:  I just saved $200.