Archive for June, 2010

They say it’s my BIRTHDAY

Posted in Daily Bread on June 23, 2010 by dunnthat

Look, I usually don’t announce the big moments in my life.  Especially when it’s guilt-inducing for all the people who forgot my birthday…but this is a BIGGY.

Oh.  And as long as I’m throwing guilt around, let me point out that NO ONE…not ONE SINGLE PERSON…commented on my last blog about the massage.  I thought I was hiLARious.

And today is my birthday.  You couldn’t even throw me a bone for my birthday.  Whatev.

Don’t even try to make up for it now.  It’s just too dang late.

Focus.  Focus… Back to the subject at hand…

Today.  Today I am FIFTY years old. 

FIVE-O.  FIFTY big ones.

I am now eligible for AARP.  I KNOW
And, it’s time for a colonoscopy.

Nevertheless…

And the big reveal… I am not sad about being fifty.  First of all, it’s better than being dead. 

I know, right?

Here’s the thing…I’ve been saying I was “almost fifty” for six months.  I wear it proudly.  And I’m going to tell you why…

When I was in my forties and people would ask how old I was (can you even IMAGINE??) I would tell them.  And to be honest, the reaction to my age was bleh at best.

But NOW…now that I’m fifty, the reaction is FABULOUS.  Let me demonstrate a typical conversation…

“I’m almost fifty.” 

“SERIOUSLY??  You look AMAZING for fifty!”

See… now I look AMAZING.  Last week I was pretty much average.  THIS week…

AMAZING.

So, I’m embracing the FIFTY.  I hug it, I love it, I rejoice in it.

I’M FIFTY MY PEEPS!!

Fwip

Posted in Daily Bread on June 18, 2010 by dunnthat

I don’t think it should come as a surprise to anyone that I do love a massage.  LOVE. 

Sometimes the experience is glorious.  Sometimes…not so much.  Remember this post? 

Well.

I actually have a therapist that I feel comfortable with and, well, safe.  She wasn’t available.  When one goes to a new therapist, it’s kind of hit and miss.  I’ve got another miss for you.

I enjoy a “deep tissue” massage.  At least I enjoy it when it’s over.  You know, when they massage really deeply and it hurts, and then they stop, it’s like…ahhhh.

So this therapist thinks deep tissue somehow involves a stabbing motion followed by a dragging motion which somehow involves her fingernails.  I kept thinking…”Do you not see the trail of blood you’re leaving??”

But I didn’t want to act like a wuss.  Since I’d, you know, specifically asked for deep tissue.

It’s a pride thing.

I could live with all this.  And for the most part, it was a good massage.  It really was.  Nice girl.

But…

Or rather, BUTT….

This therapist…let’s call her “LaFonda”…really likes to isolate the thigh/buttock area when she massages.  As an FYI, most therapists do isolate the area, but in a very tender, gentle way, folding the sheet back over the back area in soft pleats, much like the Priests fold back the sheet on the sacrament table (for the LDS-savvy of you).

LaFonda…not so much.  She draped the sheet over the “area,” with a bulk of sheet between my legs.  Then she lifted my leg and placed it on top of the sheet.  Try to imagine – you’ll enjoy this story more if you can. 

Never once did I feel an unwelcome breeze, nor was I exposed in any uncomfortable way.  This was a very modest maneuver. 

Modesty was not the problem.

After my leg was placed on the sheet, while the rest of the sheet was draped over my fanny area, LaFonda took the edge of the sheet that was under my leg, held the other edge of the sheet in her other hand,  (the one draped over my fanny – try really hard to “see” this…I don’t think you’ll  be sorry), and pulled the sheet taut upward toward my head, in a very efficient “hospital corner” kind of way.  FWIP.

The result:  Similar to the “flossing,” but somehow much more intrusive, I now had thickly “wadded” sheet in my back fanny AND my front fanny.  Kind of like a makeshift sling.

Or swing.  I really felt like I could swing between two trees in this position.

Oh…

my…

UNCOMFORTABLE!!

At this point in the massage, my eyes flew open, and again, I didn’t want to say anything because, well, what would I say?  What would you say?

“You’ve placed the sheet in my fanny.  I do not like it.”

It ended up being one of those don’t ask, don’t tell, type of situations.  I didn’t want to admit that I felt mass in my fanny.  Because if I did, it would somehow draw attention to the weird, weird thing LaFonda just did.

I mean, maybe she didn’t know what she’d done.  And if I said something, we’d both be embarrassed.

And so, I endured.  And I didn’t really enjoy the leg portion of the massage.

Which, I’m sure, goes without saying.

And then…

It was time for the other leg.  I thought, hmmm, maybe she didn’t mean to pull the sheet up so far.  Maybe there’s hope for this side.

Nope.  Same.

In these moments I find it really hard not to laugh.  But I didn’t.  Miracle.

And I spent the rest of what was supposed to be a relaxing massage writing this post in my head.

You are welcome.

Two faced

Posted in In the News on June 15, 2010 by dunnthat

The actual definition of two faced:

This kitten has two faces… two noses, four eyes, two mouths that nurse equally.  Apparently the mouths feed one stomach.  Though animals born with this rare disorder rarely survive, hopes are high for this kitty, appropriately named Two Face.

Just trying to educate the masses.

If you want to see a cheesy news video, here you go:

Is it weird that I think this kitten is cute?  Guess not.  ALL kittens are cute. 

Then they become cats.  And are universally ugly.

Easy Peasy

Posted in Daily Bread on June 14, 2010 by dunnthat

Mini and I are here in Denver for a lacrosse tournament.

Now before y’all get excited about robbing our empty house, just know that Mini and I are the only ones gone.  The rest of the fam is still at home.  With our great big mean dog.

Who bites.

Just sayin’.

Anyhoo…I drove the whole entire way.  That’s a lot of driving for me.  Not a fan of driving.  I’m a destination gal…not a journey gal.

As such, we (meaning I) opted to go the quicker, ugly route rather than the longer, pretty route.  We drove I-80 East to Cheyenne, Wyoming, then south to Denver.  We made a gas/food stop in the exciting town of Wamsutter, Wyoming.

Yeah, I’d never heard of it either.  But I saw it from the freeway and the gas stop had a Subway and it was time to eat, so…seemed like a good idea.

There was construction around the gas station area.  I swear it took four wheel drive to get to the pumps.  Filled up then went inside for a sub.

Apparently those fine Wamsutters don’t think sweeping is a good idea in general, so we stood in line while crunching dirt under our shoes.

That was pretty gross.  But it got even weirder…

So, these guys here in Wamsutter are pretty slow.  Not Deliverance slow, because they had all their teeth and stuff, but just slow-moving. 

All…

the time…

in the world…

Meanwhile, I just wanted to pull out a gun and shoot somebody.  Finally the manager shows up, and I’m thinking, “AWESOME!! Now we’re cooking with gas…”

Nope.  Still cooking with fire.  And flint.

So, manager guy comes out, looks at me, and says, “You behaving yourself?”  I respond, “I’m trying.”

When in actuality I was thinking, “Dude.  Stop with the socializing and get us our sandwiches.  Pronto.”

Then manager guy stops what he’s doing (even though it was surely not much) and stares up at the ceiling.

Seconds click by.  Maybe 15.  Maybe 30.

Maybe a day and a half.

Guy is still staring at the ceiling.  Finally, I turn around and look up at the ceiling.  I see…nothing.

So I say, “What are you looking at?”

He says, “Just waiting for lightning to strike.”

You know how it is when someone tries to be funny and it’s just…NOT?  This comment fell super, super flat.

So already I’m not too impressed with manager guy – and I should have guessed he was kind of “off” since he was, well, a Subway Sandwich manager.

Finally, we get our sandwiches.  Geez.

After we finished eating, I look at my receipt, which seemed kind of high when I paid, but I was just ready to be done with the order process, and I realize he had charged me for a sandwich from the girl in front of us.

Sigh.

So I go back to the register.  Fabulous.

He’s gone in the back by now, since the big old rush of four of us is over.  They call him back out front, he fixes the problem and takes my receipt.  I kind of need the receipt, so I ask him for a copy.

He says, “That’s not hard to do!”  All cheery.  And I don’t really care how hard it is.  I just want the receipt and out of Wamsutter.

Punch a few numbers here, ding a few bells there, then Manager guy hands me the receipt and says, (and I’m not joking or embellishing), “See!  Easy peasy as a Japanesey.”

Oh.  My.  GOSH!!  I’ve never heard this before in my life.  Ever.

I just stood there speechless.  Then I said, “Um.  Um.  I really don’t even know what to say to that.”

Then I turned around and walked away.  And left Wamsutter for good.

With a new racist phrase in my “offend everyone” verbal arsenal.

It is Dunn

Posted in Daily Bread on June 8, 2010 by dunnthat

And…they lived happily ever after…

Number One and Anna got married!!  I can’t even believe it.  As I’m sure you can guess, it was magical.  Everything was SO BEAUTIFUL.  Good job Anna.

And, I have to be honest…

I found myself a bit attracted to Anna.  HOLY FREAK!  It has been said before that someone might “take your breath away.”  And it’s a really nice thing to say. 

But honest to goodness, when Anna and Number One walked out of the temple doors I literally lost my breath.  For reals.  Number One was beaming.  Genuinely beaming.

See for yourself…

Pretty, pretty people.  Sigh.

At the reception, Number One sang Joshua Radin’s “I’d Rather Be With You” to his sweet Anna.  It was DREAMY.

I’m biased, but he sounded just as good as Mr. Radin.

At this moment, the happy couple are lounging on a beach in the Dominican Republic (or maybe doing something else…who’s to say).  I could not be more happy for two people!  This engagement was not the easiest journey.

And now Anna, you poor, poor thing, we are forever related.

TANGENT:

Today as I was leaving the chiropracter’s office, I saw this car, and I thought, “DANG…too late for the mother of the groom…”  But it did make me laugh.  So here’s some info for those of you who might be in the market for a little help during wedding season “Because your day should be perfect”:

I must note that this was a BMW.  And it was parked in a handicapped parking space.

Draw your own conclusions.