Super fun phone drama....

So here's what happened to my phone. Charles and I are trying out having no land line in our home and just using cell phones. This has worked ok so far, but since we got our phones while living in Salt Lake, all our neighbors have to dial long distance to call us. We talked about changing them every once in a while but never seemed to get around to it. But now, Mia is starting preschool and the school does not have long distance access (I guess the district found a way to cut financial corners). So, for the sake of Mia's education we finally went in and had our phone numbers changed last night.

In a whirl of excitement, I texted and emailed everyone I could think of and sent them my new number. (This actually turned into a fun getting-in-touch-with-people-you-haven't-spoken-to-in-years exercise. Hey Jules, nice to talk to you last night, I'm glad your still breathing.) Then this morning I wandered over to a few neighbors homes and gave them our brand new local number (hoorah!! we can have friends now). And then one of them tried to call me....and it was still long distance. Grrrrr....

So, I called the cell phone company and told them that they weren't the brightest crayon in the box collectively (individually they might all be MENSA candidates, who knows). After explaining it to them three times, calling a local store to confirm the Utah County code they need to find the right phone number we had the numbers changed again. This time I sent Charlie to the neighbors house to call before I bothered everyone with more text messages and he says it works. I am half tempted to give out my phone number here but I'm not dumb...some of the time. Email me if you need it.

house of disease

So here's the thing about me. I am the worst sick person in the world. I get whiny and grouchy the minute I feel any sort of sick. Last weekend I was so sick I am pretty sure I died. It was like something out of the Exocist. I won't go into detail but it wasn't pleasant, for me or anyone within a five mile radius. And since it was the first week of school I wasn't even allowed to cry on Charlie's shoulder, lest he should get the sniffles on the first day of teaching. So, I wallowed in my misery all by myself, with nary a caretaker mopping my feverish brow. Poor poor me.

Despite my best efforts, it seems that Charlie is now coming down with the flu of death. He is starting to get a glazed over look in his eye and looks like it is painful to move. He hasn't started complaining yet, but looked at me like I was satan a few hours ago, so I think he knows that I have infected him. I now amend my previous statement as I am starting to recall that I am only the second worst sick person in the world, with Charlie beating me by a mile. He needs constant sympathy for the smallest cold. So, this is not going to be pleasant. It may take a few days before I have the time or strength to write again. I may be too busy nursing my poor husband back to health...by Monday or there will be heck to pay.

The disease continues...

Ok, Charlie didn't really get sick, he just had body aches and was whiny for a day. But here's the new twist. I have a disgusting eye infection. I hid in the house all day yesterday, but today I desperately need groceries so I am trying to figure out if I would creep people out by wearing my sun glasses all through the store. Maybe people will just assume I am hung over. I also need to go to the bank, but I don't want anyone to think I am a suspicious character, so I don't think my sun glasses can protect me from public ridicule there.

It's amazing how vain I find myself being. I am skipping my kickboxing class as we speak because I don't want any of my neighbors to be grossed out by my swollen left eye. Yes, the logical part of me knows that probably no one will pay attention to me enough to even notice, but there is no logic involved in my vanity. I've been known to call in sick to work when I had a particularly bad break out. (Yes, I know that therapy might help me face my fear of my debilitating fears, but who has the time).

So, for this post I am very happy that I am not in the habit of posting pictures. You don't want to see this. And I don't want to document it for posterity. I am determined that my grandchildren never know that I had human flaws.

farmer's market

So, round about August in Spanish Fork the farmer's market opens saturday morning in front of City Hall. I have an unusually excited reaction to this every saturday. Maybe it's because I've never successfully grown anything,(seriously, I killed a chia pet and a cactus in quick succession) so the wonder of meeting the people who actually produced the produce gives a certain amount of reverence. Also, Mia likes to eat whatever picks out at the market, which is weird because she doesn't like a lot of stuff that isn't pink. Today she picked out summer squash and is still dancing around the house about it. So I feel like a good mom and a good citizen for supporting my local farmers today. I get a gold star.

Also, I threw away a dead little pine tree I had in a pot on my front porch. I had high hopes for this tree. I was going to decorate it with twinkle lights come Christmas time, and maybe even a few ornaments. But it died. Like everything I plant it quickly dried up and turned brown, despite being a vigilent waterer and generous with the miracle grow. My heart still hurts from this bitter disappointment.

My new idea is to just stick a fake tree in the pot of dirt and pretend. I am nothing if not great at pretending. I will plant a fake tree and dare everyone around me to tell me that it isn't real.

meditation...

A few days ago I made an astounding observation. People pick weird times to meditate on the meaning and direction of their lives. For example, I was at Red Robin with my friend, Christy after a fun girl movie (Mamma Mia, still makes me giggle). Upon walking out of the restaurant I encountered another one of my "Amy's awkward navigation of polite society" foibles, a rotating door. Some rotating doors are not so bad, kind of fun in a weird way. But some of them, such as the one at Red Robin, are an odd size. I always have a moment of panic trying to decide if I should join who ever is in the stall ahead of me, or should I let them have their alone time and jump in the next stall? What is polite? I don't want to crash anyone's solitude, but it seems wasteful to no "carpool".

I know I am rambling, but I have a point. Pay attention. After I awkwardly jumped in the same stall as Christy, probably maiming her with an elbow or something I felt the need to explain my behavior and tried to explain my irrational fear of rotating doors. This got a weird look (I've known her for 10 years or so, but I guess i must be getting weirder because no one seems to be getting used to me). So I further tried to explain what I meant about interrupting someone's quiet time. When I brush my teeth I am usually so deep in thought that the rest of the world disappears. Teeth brushing is my time to think about the direction of my life and my beliefs. I know of at least three people who believe that the universe is more clear in the shower. My mom seems to completely bliss out into a zen like state when she is polishing her sink. And a certain underground mormon sub culture that I like to refer to as "scrapbookers" seem to go into a complete other plane of existence while using their pinking shears and di-cuts. To each his own. I'm not judgy. Except for scrapbookers, that gives me the heebie jeebies.

So, this is a call for all of my loyal readers to try to be more sensitive to whatever form of meditation those around us seem to observe. That reminds me, I need to buy toothpaste.

Sundance spectacular

I know it has been a while. How are you? Have you missed me? I was on "vacation" in Park City. My "vacaction" deserves quotation marks because it was the Hanosek version of a family outing. Charlie refereed six soccer games a day while I sat around in the hotel room and local attractions trying desperately to entertain a three year old. FOR THREE DAYS. THREE. Soccer and a dirty hotel swimming pool for THREE days. I just want to make sure you understand the severity of the situation. THREE. (I feel I need to take this opportunity to say that I dearly love my husband, but the man has no idea how to take a vacation. Once I dragged him to Zion's Canyon for a weekend, thinking that at least there would be no soccer there, and he managed to turn it into a soil collecting excursion for his science lessons the following year. Grrr.)

Here's the thing I noticed about Park City. Everything looks the same. Police Station, Taco Bell, Library, Albertson's, gas stations, all dressed up like cabins as if they are in the witness protection program. I even saw a dumpster or two masquerading as Swiss chalets. Who do they think they are fooling? I know that Park City has gone all Hollywood thanks to Robert Redford, but honestly, I don't think anyone is walking around the town wishing they could find a dumpster to throw their gum into, saying to themselves "Oh, I better not throw my gum in that almost dumpster looking Swiss chalet, I'm sure it's just a tiny home for enchanted wood sprites."

The other thing that kept nagging at me on "vacation" was what if someone weren't paying attention and walked into the wrong rustic wood building. I could just see the same poor chap (in my head I am picturing Paul Schaffer, but you may picture who ever you want in this scenario, I'm not the boss of you, that's Oprah's job) So, poor Paul Schaffer is wandering into what he thinks is Burger King, hoping to find comfort in a Whopper, but he has accidently walked into the Post Office because all the buildings look exactly the same like a derranged woodsman was let loose on the city planning committee.

Now I am not an advocate of graffiti, but perhaps next time you are in Park City you can aid the population by doing your part to distinguish one building from another. Perhaps you could spray paint a happy face above the door of all fast food chains and a scowly face above all public offices, and maybe dollar signs above the hundreds of real estate agents doors.

* I just read my sister in law's comment on this and realized I forgot to mention that she rescued my sanity and took Mia to her house to have a sleep over with her cousins. She is my hero. I am going to build a shrine to her...later...when I get around to it.