Out of the Closet

I constantly have this fight with myself about the clothes in my closet. Some of them are so old and ratty that I'm not sure they are fit to wash my cat's bum with, much less wear in public. I am not a hoarder, and to be honest I get downright giddy when I sort and throw things away. So this closet business makes me crazy. I've decided that I just need to make my peace with it and this is why:

This is my favorite black skirt. It is a skirt that I inherited from my Inkey friend. That's not her name, but for reasons that are starting to become fuzzy to me, that's what I call her. She and I were mission companions in Los Angeles, plus, also, roommates after plus, also, I love her very guts to this day even though she bailed on me and moved to St. George. This skirt is no less than 11 years old, but I wear it at least 3 times a week. Every Sunday and for at least 2 Mary Kay functions. You cannot see, but the thread is unraveling from the elastic, the hem has fallen out in a couple of places, and it has a discolored spot you can see on the bottom left that is lighter than the rest of the skirt.

This sweatshirt is also from my Inkey friend. It doesn't fit anymore, and as you can see, I have painted many things while in that thing. Every color has a memory for me. I tend to be the kind of girl that only gets excited about physical labor when it involves getting to spend time with someone I love. I'll happily shovel rocks all day long as long as you are there with me. Tell me to do that same chore all by myself, and you may not be in love with the response I give you. So, all of those paint splotches are memories of relationships I've built over a can of paint.

This is my religious shirt. I put something black inside of it so you can see how "holy" it is. Inkey also gave me this shirt, only I believe I keep it around to see just how long I can wear it before it literally disintegrates. I sleep in that thing 3 or 4 nights a weeks. Every time I wash it, I wonder if it is the last.

These are shoes I bought while I was on my mission. They are also 11 years old, and I still wear them. Maybe I shouldn't. They are pretty sad.

These are my monkey jammies. I wore out the crotch, but I will be fixing them and wearing them forever. I do not wish to be disowned by Kesk and the zoo animals that live with her because it is a rule in that house that you must own some monkey jammies. I don't remember, because I don't remember lots of things, but I might have started that rule myself. Whether I started it or not, I do recall buying more than one pair of monkey jammies for that zoo.

These two shirts were my brother, Larry's favorite shirts at the time he died 12 years ago this month. The shirt that says, "Greece" is from a restaurant that he used to take me to in Chapel Hill, NC. The other is Richard Petty's race car. If you don't know who Richard Petty is, then I'd have to say that you are obviously an uncultured swine, because he is the king of NASCAR. Nobody loved Richard Petty like my brother. If my house was burning down, I'd grab these two shirts and maybe my cat.

The Zoo

Shoulder update: I had an MRI on Friday and it wasn't nearly so unpleasant as I expected it to be. If you've never had an MRI at the Imaging Center in American Fork, I highly recommend it. They don't put you in a tunnel and tell you to try and pretend it's not squishy and coffin-like. This MRI was totally open on all the sides. I was so pleased, I fell asleep. Anyhow, I went back in to the doctor and the good news is that my rotator cuff is fine. The bad news is that it is still really inflamed and has some kind of hook on it that may keep it from ever calming down. I think I can safely say that anyone who had a hook in her shoulder should be owie. I feel like someone tried to fish me and I'm the "one that got away". The doctor said that she'd give me a shot of cortizone to make me feel better about the whole business, but she'd see me in 3 weeks and we'd most likely be setting up and appointment for a shoulder scope. She says after that, it will be magic and will heal up nicely. I'm planning on it magically healing up all by itself after this shot. Again, I'll keep you posted.

The most happy thing about today is that on my way home from the doctor I decided to pay a visit to the Kesk Family Zoo. They have all of my favorite animals at that place: monkeys, zebras, and Roxies. If you think a Roxie isn't an animal, you are terribly mistaken. At my visit to the zoo it was apparently feeding time because there was some very yummy, freshly made, cinnamon apple sauce. For a zoo keeper that hates cooked apples, she can sure make good applesause. That Roxie animal gave me a bite of hers and then made sure I got some of my very own.

While at the zoo, the zebra decided that it was grooming time after his applesauce snack and started working on the Roxie critter.
He did his own fur afterward
The monkey wanted to do her own hair and I'm personally in love with the dental flosser she added. I'd expect nothing less from a monkey.

This is my favorite of all the zoos in the land.

Shoulder Sadness

I don't know why I don't blog more with this kind of helpfulness:
Plus, also, I went to the doctor yesterday because I've had a bum shoulder for the past 3 and a half months. Apparently, I slept on it funny one night. I figured it was some tendonitis but even after some physical therapy It's not even a tiny bit better. I went to the doctor and begged them to give me a cortizone shot to make all of the swelling go away. Only too bad for me because they did an x-ray instead that says I have a hook on my shoulder. I don't know what that means except it makes it harder to heal. My doctor friend is also afraid that I might need surgery because it is owier than just some tendonitis. I have an MRI tomorrow that will settle it once and for all. I'm praying my guts out that surgery is not-so-much what I need. I'm hoping that the man upstairs wants to do me a solid and grant that wish. I'll let you know the verdict.

Company

So, Hank and I have some company this weekend. His name is Alpine.

Alpine belongs to the Eaves. I live in their little house. They are away in St. George and needed someone to tend Alpine. I figured that he's little enough that he can't be too much trouble. I think he's fabulous, but Hank doesn't really agree so much. This is a little bit of how the adjustment is going for him:

This is what Hank looked like when he first saw that their was a foreigner in the house:He tried to be inconspicious as he assessed the situation:

He gave that up and started stalking the poor thing:

They finally started seeing eye to eye:

Alpine will go home tomorrow and I can safely say that they absolutely tolerate one another.

Robert Jones

I don't know if any of you know who Robert Jones is (unless you are a fancy pants cosmotolgist), but I had the pleasure of spending 8 hours with him at at workshop. What kind of workshop, you ask? He is a world renound makeup artist. He charges $2,200 an hour to do your makeup, hair, and to pick our your clothes. I spent 8 hours with him and only had to pay $60. You tell me who is smarter--me or the rich people who pay him? Anyway, he taught us how to properly apply make up for every face, eye shape and color imaginable. I have his book that he based his workshop on, so I can remember all of the wonderfulness I learned.

Robert Jones was just about what I expected. He is an eccetrant, funny gay man. He kept the temperature at about 64 degress the whole time because apparently he gets migraines if he gets too hot. I brought a coat and I was glad for that. He spent some time telling us about he and his "friend's" new puppy, Gigi, that was sick, so he kept his cell phone on incase of an emergancy. You think I'm kidding, only I'm not. He loves Barbara Striesand's music and he loves Donnie Osmond. Not his music, just him. Really he was halarious.

I have taken the liberty of taking some before and after photos of myself. If I had the right camera and lighting it would look a lot more impressive, but I think you'll get the picture.

If any of you want me to work my miracles on you, just let me know.