Note to an Absentminded Musician:

BONO, why don't you just tell me what it is so I can help you look? This has been going on far too long. When you first said you couldn't find it I felt bad and wished you the best and everything. But then you kept going on and on about it. Every time I turned around there you were, whining again. Geez!

By and by you've lightened up a little and only lamented occasionally, but still, I find myself silently asking, "Seriously, Bono? Still?"

I just heard you keening again the other day and I mean it's been like 25 years! Come! On! Either find it or move on already!

I'm sorry my friend, but I have to ask: are you sure you're really even looking?!

If You Go There...Take a Jacket

It seems there is a phenomenon following me around called, "If you go there, it will be cold."

If you were to ask me what my ideal vacation would be I would tell you: Somewhere Warm. That's it. My only request. It can be an hour away, a day away, on the other side of the globe. Doesn't matter, as long as the sun is shining.

A few years ago some friends and I were sick and tired of the inversion in Bountiful. Spring was coming, but not fast enough and we wanted to be warm. We decided to take a little grrltrip to a foolproof warm zone: Phoenix, AZ. Or was it Tempe? Who even cares? Either way, we should have been safe, right? Wrong. For the few days we were there all we heard was, "It's so strange! It's NEVER this cold this time of year! NEVER!" We couldn't even get in the pool, we just sat on lounge chairs near the pool in our jackets and read our books while some stupid little kids who were too young to care about being cold shivered in the water. Bust.

Then there was China. Though it was actually slightly warmer than predicted that time, that's not saying much because China in December is riDONKulously, brutally cold. The humid winter air and frigid winds are SO not cool. Well, yes, cool--but not in a good way. So I told my traveling companions that next time we need to go somewhere WARM.

Los Angeles! Yes!.....no. "It's crazy! Just last week it was SO WARM! It's just a crazy cold spell--don't know how to explain it." Uh huh. Whatever. Good thing the company was awesome. The day after we left, you'll never believe it...super HOT!

San Francisco? Sounded iffy to me. Let's just say I now have a darling souvenir jacket from Pier 39. At least they had hot chocolate here and there in SF.

Next? I think it was prob Park City. In the winter. Enough said, right?

Then it was Las Vegas for the National Finals Rodeo. Fun trip. Fun friends. Cold weather.

Oh my gosh! For Spring Break we've flown the fam to South Carolina and rented a beach house on Harbor Island! SOUTH Carolina. In the SOUTH. I promise a guy said this as we picked up our rental: "It's been so hot! It was so hot just yesterday! I don't know why it's cold today, but it's supposed to get warmer in a few days, don't worry." For 3 days it has been windy and chilly, even rainy. Yesterday we tried to go to Hunting Beach. We walked out on the pier and after watching a few birds get hauled off in the air by the fierce winds, and me imagining (for no logical reason) how awful it would be to fall off the giant pier into the freezing, roiling waves, we all ran back to the car and cranked on the heater. I've been running on the beach every morning, but unibomber-style with my hoodie tied tightly against my sunglasses so I don't get a headache from the cold wind boxing my ears.

It was actually warmish today. Beautiful, really. We went to the beach and watched Christian try out his skim board. The water was still too cold for any intelligent person to swim in (haha, mostly kidding, Christian!). But it's supposed to be warm again tomorrow. Notice I say warm. There's no chance of hot, but at this point warm sounds pretty great. I'll take it!

Not that we haven't had a great time. It's been a blast. We can always have fun, regardless of the weather. And a vacay is a vacay. But I am still on my quest for a very warm to hot vacation, and starting to wonder if the problem isn't, well...me.

Klassic Keems

A friend's blog today mentioned Hires Big H in Salt Lake. It reminded me of a recent trip there for lunch with Becky. When the waitress came over I warned her not to judge me for what I was about to order and then proceeded to order a hot chocolate and a rootbeer float.

Embarrassing?

More like perfection.

Want Me to Fix Your Eyewear?

So what if part of the cheap glasses I got at Walmart kept coming off?

I'm a grown woman.

I'm perfectly capable of gluing on a little plastic earpiececoverthingy (said with all kinds of attitude).


See?



Oh.

Taking the Diet Coke

One time my Sis-in-law slash BFF, Becky and I serendipitously figured out we both had friends who lived in Boston. And then later figured out that they were ROOMMATES! It was obviously a giant sign from the Universe that we needed to take a grltrip to Boston. And so, naturally, we did.

We had a great time in Boston. We all got along well, saw lots of awesome historical sights, took a duckboat ride on the Charles River...it was a memorable, wonderful trip.

On our flight home Becky and I were, for some reason, seated one in front of the other. We each had a window seat, but couldn't get anyone to trade with us so we could sit together. Oh well. During the flight I could vaguely hear her in front of me, chatting it up with the lady sitting next to her.

I was sitting by a middle-aged couple who had nothing to say. And when I said, "Oh, look how cute! Miniature silverware!" during the meal, they were not the least bit amused. Awkward.

When the flight attendant asked what I would like to drink I answered, "Do you have Dr. Pepper?" She said, "What? Diet Coke?" (I hate Diet Coke). I said, "....uhhhhhyyyyyyeah, um hmm, yep, Diet Coke. Thank you."

When we got off the plane Becky said, "Did I hear you order a Diet Coke? What the heck? You hate Diet Coke! I was all, 'Did she just order Diet Coke? What the heck? She hates Diet Coke!'" I explained to her that the attendant had heard me wrong and I didn't want to make her feel bad, so I took the Diet Coke. I have been known to have a fairly serious problem with lack of assertiveness, even in harmless situations such as this.

The phrase 'Taking the Diet Coke' has evolved from this story and is a common warning from Becky and others when they fear I am going to buckle in a confrontational situation. I am often admonished, "Don't you dare take the Diet Coke, Kimi!" Or, "Oh, no. You took the Diet Coke, didn't you," by Becky or Bob or anyone else who knows me well. Those two are routinely called upon to give me courage when I have to deal with a sensitive situation. My sympathy often overrides my objectivity and I can end up flipping sides just to make someone feel better. It's a blessing and a curse. I can see both sides of an issue very clearly. Problem is, that makes it really hard to take a side, even when I know it's right.

So, I try my best not to take the Diet Coke. Literally and figuratively.

Which makes me think of my friend, Melinda, who, though she will ALWAYS take a Diet Coke, would NEVER 'take the Diet Coke!'

Am I Being Punked Right Now?

I've been sick for days, but I still have to do stuff since I have that one job: Mom. Today I had to go to the fabric store with Andie to buy some material for a school thing. We picked out a lovely metallic stretch fabric that was 30% off and went to have it cut at the cutting table. There was one customer there who had just finished getting her fabric cut and then she left. So it was just me. And so I put my fabric on the table and the cutting table worker lady said, "Oh! Did you take a number," as she pointed to the little number dispenser. Are you kidding me, I thought. I'm the only person anywhere near this table. Isn't that just a waste of paper? I noticed a digital display up high showing a big number 20 as I took number 21 from the dispenser.

As I stood there, swaying faintly from weakness and nausea, I watched her fiddle around superslowly with whatever she could think of. I closed my eyes for a little micronap and also so I wouldn't make an Are You Serious? face at her, because that would be a little rude. But HOLY COW!

After a very long minute or so she ran out of things to 'do' but didn't so much as look up at me before she walked in the opposite direction over to a phone. I could NOT believe it when she held the handpiece to her mouth like a microphone and announced over the loudspeaker, "Attention customers: we are now serving number twenty one at the cutting table. Serving number twenty one."

Then she walked back over to me and said, "What can I do for you," as if she had just now noticed me standing there.

Okay, now I couldn't help it. I pointedly turned my head in both directions, looking at the NOBODY who was standing ANYWHERE within shooting distance and gave her a semi-subtle incredulous look, otherwise known as the Am I On Candid Camera? face. I set my fabric on the table, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a sarcastic smirk, gave my head a defeated little shake, and said, "5 yards, please."

Perhaps I Could Join the Circus?

I used to teach piano, you may know. Just beginners, though--don't want to mess anyone up too badly, right?

I had some awesome piano students. I think they entertained me more than I ever taught them piano. But hopefully they learned something. Kids are funny. Some of my students LOVED me, couldn't stand to see me move away. Others seemed to think I was a crazy lady. They never came right out and said it, but I have my suspicions. Let me tell you about some of my faves:

MCKENNA was deathly afraid of dogs, so I always had to make sure our dog was nowhere in sight when she came over or she couldn't even have a lesson due to excess emotional trauma.


KENDRA was somewhere off in left field or something. I never did completely figure her out. She was 11 and I pretty much taught her the same lesson every week because she wasn't able to grasp a concept for forever. And even when I thought she had gotten it I'd find out a few lessons later, when she acted like she'd never heard it before in her life, that she hadn't quite yet. I got a lot of blank stares from Kendra.

Whenever she saw me at the school, though, she would yell, "HI planno teacherrrr!" I don't think she had any idea what my name was, but she knew I was her planno teacher. So that's good.

Her lesson was right after school and she would always walk the half-block to my house in extreme bladder distress and then come panting up to my door, pleading desperately to use my bathroom, as if she thought I might just turn her down. One time she had to stop in the middle of the street and put down her backpack just to get a better grip on her full crotch-hold. It may have been that day that I mentioned she might want to go at school first so she wouldn't be so uncomfortable walking up the street.

"Okay, (...pant, pant...tightencrotchhold...pottydance), but," she says, "can I just use yours for today?!"

Oh, Kendra. Kendra, Kendra, Kendra. Of course you can use mine. *Closedeyesheadshake*.

ROMAN. Everybody called him ROman except for his mom. She called him RoMAHN. I was always undecided on whether I should go with the accepted American pronunciation or the obviously correct Latin pronunciation. So I pretty much flip-flopped every other time-ish. Come to think of it, he prob thought I was a weirdo even before this next incident ever occurred.

During one lesson Roman looked at me quizzically and said I had a hair on my lip. Wait. We need pictures for this story. Here, I'll act it out in pictures.

So, he says I have a hair on my lip.

"Oh," I say, as I brush my lip off, "Did I get it?"



"Uuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh................no. Like.........*cringeface*.........a mustache."



"Oh."



*Facepalm!*


Tell it like it is, Ro.
Just tell it like it is.