Hillyerie, This Blog's For You

Faces

On Saturday I had a fun outing with Aunt Kaye. We, in the past, have loved to travel the land in search of treasures. The kind of treasures that are in and/or around old, abandoned houses. I have many of these treasures in my home. (Like that chair I balance on in order to change light bulbs.) So, we headed south on one of these expeditions and stopped in every tiny town from here to Manti. These are some of the faces I ran into:This little guy doesn't actually have a face. It all melted away in the 60 degree weather. I don't feel one bit sad about that. He might have been Frosty the Snowman for all I know, and I still don't feel sad. Even if the children did say, "he could laugh and play just the same as you and me."

This face almost ate my hand off trying to get that carrot.

On the way home we decided to go through Nephi, Mona, and Santaquin to get home. I saw my Krista friend in Nephi, My Natalie friend in Mona, and this rag-tag group in Santaquin:

Some of you are probably familiar with these people. I had to drop off something to that house, and lucky for me I did. Auntie and I were on our way to the Wildflower Grill for dinner and it just so happens they were in need of sustenance as well. How convenient for us all. It was the perfect end to a perfect day.

Plumber's Apprentice

I don't know how many of you remember my post about the Ikea Plumber, but I'm pretty sure I ran across his apprentice:

Ashamed

I am terribly embarrassed and ashamed too. On my one blog about the light bulb changing, I noticed that I put an apostrophe where it doesn't belong. One of my biggest pet peeves in the world is when people put apostrophes where they have no business. The title says, "How many Shan's does it take to change a light bulb." I would just edit it and take that apostrophe out, only it's too late to pretend it never happened. I hope you all can still love me and respect me despite that grievous error.

Plus, also, I'm super-shocked that Kesk didn't call me on it. Either you're slacking, Kesk, or you are too good of a friend to embarrass me about it.

Bawl Baby

I'm beginning to wonder about myself. Some of you may have been wondering about me for years. Well, I'm just getting around to it and this is what I'm wondering: why on earth am I turning into a big bawl baby? Is it because I'm becoming less calloused in my old age? It could be hormones, only I'm pretty sure I've had them my whole life. Maybe it's my punishment for hating romantic comedies all these years. What ever it is, I'm not in love with it. I have been in denial that it is a problem until today and I can't deny it any more. I've been toodling around the house cleaning and organizing and mostly wandering from room to room wondering why I went in there in the first place. Having lived by myself forever, I like to have the TV on for company a lot. The Simpsons came on and I really didn't pay too much attention to it at first. It was one that I've seen many times. Homer and Marge are telling Lisa and Bart about how Homer was so upset about baby Maggie being born because he had to quit his dream job at the bowling ally. At the end, when Homer gets a look at that little baby Maggie he falls in love with her and goes back to the nuclear power plant. Lisa asks Homer why, if he loves Maggie so much, there aren't any photos of her in the family photo album. He tells her he has them where he needs them most. Then it show his office place and plastered all over the walls are photos of that little Maggie. I cried. Who in their right mind cries at the Simpsons? That plaque used to say "Don't forget, you're here forever." Sometimes that Homer gets it right.

On a happier non-bawly note. I ran into a bunch of zoo animals and their zoo keepers at the mall on Saturday. I didn't actually run into them so much as I went there specifically to see them.

Did you know that Zebras happen to love french fries?

This little animal loves her chicken...

...and lettuce, and pretty much everything on her and everyone else's plate. She may look small, but she can really pack it away.

A pizza eating monkey.

One of the zoo keepers making nice with one of the animals. I had a photo of the other zoo keeper named Bubba, only he told me I couldn't post it because he was opening his mouth huger than huge to put food in it. I will improvise and use a body double: I hope he is happy that he didn't let me use the photo I wanted to.

Zebra likes to dance with mannequins. I don't have anything else to say about that. I think the photo says enough.

Plus, also, I have a shoe problem, but it is not contained to only myself. I have always had a problem with wanting to buy shoes for all the above mentioned animals. It is Spring time and that means summer is next and that means they need summer shoes. Christian got some sandals, Ashton chose some pretty amazing green flip flops, and Roxie chose these:

It really doesn't get any sweeter than that.

This photo just makes me laugh because this is after we tried on her new shoes and put her old socks and shoes back on. Only, silly me, I thought she'd carry around her new shoes until I could pay for them. She had other plans. She wore them out of the store and we didn't even have to put her on the counter and scan her feet.

I think I'll go find something else to cry about. Like maybe mean old House. He's on TV right now. I bet that Lynne is watching because that's what she does.

How Many Shan's Does it Take to Change a Light Bulb?...

...It only takes one, but she has to be very tricky.

My house has very tall ceilings. I'm not sure how tall exactly. What I do know is that they are tall enough that a chair is not even close to good enough when a light bulb needs changing. A couple of days ago a light bulb in my bathroom burned out. Unfortunately, the bathroom is one of those places that you need to have all the light you can get so that when you put your makeup on, you don't look like Tammy Faye Bakker when you are done. If you didn't grow up in North Carolina with the Bakkers, or if you happen to not have spent a lot of time in the 80s watching tele-evangelists, then here is a photo to illustrate my point:Nobody wants to look like that. So, I'm faced with the dilemma of how to change the light bulb. You might say, "Use a ladder. What are you, daft?" To you I'd say that I don't have one. So, I'm pondering my dilemma when I see my brand new Ikea table. I've got to put it to good use now that I have it. I drag that thing into the bathroom, thinking how smart I am, and once I had it situated exactly where I wanted it, I looked at my work and this is what I saw:

I have to tell you that I laughed right out loud. The kind of laugh that even though you are all alone, you still look around to see if anyone is listening because it is embarrassing how loud you just laughed. I think this is what you do if you are serious enough about your eating that you don't want to take a potty break.

Even though this may not be best light bulb changing option, it sure beats what I used to do:

Queston...

Are glue sticks supposed to be moldy? I didn't even know that was a possibility.

I'm Over It

Thanks Lynne for your "there, there" yesterday. I think I was just at my whit's end with the last week and a half of sleep deprivation because of my shoulder, and that little dog just pushed me right over the edge. I'm over it. On a happier note, look at my new shoes I got yesterday:

A good pair of shoes makes everything feel better. I'll have to admit, however, that these shoes are even more fabulous with little Miss Rox's feet in them. Regrettably, I don't have a photo. I went by that Kesk zoo yesterday because while I was out and about I found a pair of socks that I believed that Monkey girl could not live one more day without. Then, there was this "pretty, pretty dress" as Rox says, that I didn't know if she could live without. And then of course, the Zebra boy might need a cute, new pair of shorts for that blessed day when the sun shines and it is warm every day. The only thing happier than buying myself new shoes, might be buying them new stuff because they are always so excited and so grateful. They immediately strip off the clothing they are currently wearing and put on the new stuff. It's happiness, I tell you.

Bone to Pick

Last night I had my first big outing since surgery. I went to pick up a couple of cds from a friend of mine in Highland. It felt so good to get out. Upon my return home there was a little dog at my door. This dog to be exact:

Her name is Daisy. She's a sweet puppy, but silly, silly me thought she'd have the good sense to go back to her home. That's exactly what I thought she'd done until 2:00 a.m. when she started barking, whining, and scratching my solid, knotty alder door. At this point I realize she's probably lost, only what do you do about it at 2:00 a.m.? I didn't want to let her in because she was a little neurotic and I knew she and Hank would make each other crazy and that translates in me wanting to beat them both. I also didn't want to take the chance of her going potty on the floor. Sure, I could lock her in the bathroom, but then I've got her barking, whining, and scratching my knotty alder bathroom door all night, and that would be lots louder. In short, I didn't sleep last night. Neither did Hank. Not that I care if he slept or not, because about 20 hours of his day is usually spent sleeping. Here's what he did all night:
I called Daisy's owner this morning and she came to get her. Apparently, she was only one street away from her house and I realized I wasn't dealing with the sharpest pup in the litter. However, now I'm grumpy and sleep deprived and I have a bone to pick with you cat haters of the world. I get a lot of guff from people who say things like, "the only good cat is a dead cat", or think maybe the only use for a cat is to torture it. I don't hate dogs and even if I did, I wouldn't tell people that I think their dog should be dead or tortured. Here's what I know about my cat experiences vs. my dog experiences. Keep in mind, I've owned plenty of both.

Like a dog, my cat greets me at the door every single day when I get home. He also comes when I call him about 90% of the time. Unless you have a super-trained dog, I don't know as you're odds are a lot better for a dog. My cat snuggles and purrs and is really quite good company. He never smells and is actually really clean all of the time. Dogs, on the other hand, stink. Period. End of story. If you try to tell me you don't have a stinky dog, then you are just used to his/her smell, you bathe your dog several times a week, or you are lying. My kitty doesn't whine or cry or beg. It's rare I hear a meow out of him at all. I can leave my cat home alone over night and I don't have to worry about chewed up property or cleaning up pee and poop because there was no one to let him out. He doesn't bark at or try to attack people when they knock at the door. In fact, unless you happen to have someone with you under 4 feet tall when you come to my house, after a few minutes, he's actually quite friendly to company. (He used to like little kids too, but he's had more than his fair share of little people chasing him, pulling his tail, and carrying him around by the neck.) I'm not trying to tell you that cats are perfect. There have been times when I've wanted to drop kick my cat across the room when he's playing in the blinds, using the couch as a scratching post, or incessantly snatching tampons to play with. For those of you that want to use the whole loyalty argument, my cat loves me better than anyone and 10 times out of 10 will pick me over anyone or anything else. I also think that, generally speaking, I've probably got an above-average cat and have always been lucky when it comes to my cats. What I am trying to say is that I think cats are a lot quieter, neater, and cleaner than dogs, and do not deserve the mean, hostile feelings some people have for them. Plus, also, I read and absolutely loved Marley and Me but that only further proves my point. In short, unless you have been brutally attacked and injured by a cat (which, by the way, dogs do every day) I'm not really interested in hearing your mean comments about them.

P.S. Inkey, it just occurred to me that you might think this is directed at you, but it's not. I'm just bitter about my dog barking, scratching, whining sleepless night and needed to get that off of my chest for cat lovers everywhere. I love your very cat-hating guts.

Kitty Abuse

Cabin fever has officially set in. Earlier tonight I was minding my own business and it began to rain. I know, the nerve, right? I decided that I'd like to open my door and take a look at that rain and breathe in some fresh air. Once I opened the door and I saw how hard it truly was raining, I got this one evil thought. I know two things for sure about my cat: 1. He loves to run outside as fast as he can when he gets the chance because he knows it's naughty. 2. Water (what that is not in his bowl) is public enemy number 1 in his book. My one evil thought was this: If I pretend to not be watching him very closely, he will run like a cat out of hell into the pouring rain and that will be funny for me. I was correct. That was sooooooo funny for me because he ran out and got only a few feet into the rain and freaked out. Only he wasn't sure where to run to get away from the wetness because it was everywhere and he was not about to run back into the house and be humiliated by his failed escape attempt. I laughed and laughed and laughed. Only in my haste to torture my cat I didn't factor in this:
I wish I could tell you that I didn't deserve all the brown kitty prints he left as he raced back into the house and stepped on EVERYTHING. Only in the end, I still got the last laugh because Hank had to have a bath.

I'm in need of some human contact. For Hank's sake.

Two Things

I know two things this day:

1. I went to the doctor and we had a good visit about my pitiful arm. I actually told him that we were not friends anymore and that he should be ashamed wearing such a bright, happy tropical shirt when I'm doing my best to be mad at him. He laughed because I don't think he took me seriously. His nice medical assistant lady took out my 3 baby stitches and told me it all looked great. That's funny, because it doesn't FEEL great. Mr. Tropical Shirt Doctor Guy came back into the room and sidled himself right up next to me on the table so he could show me all my photos and tell me about them. He just plopped himself down like we were old friends about to look over some photos of the cruise we went on together last fall. He was starting to grow on me and I found it harder to be mad at him. Basically, my shoulder was really owie, but in a good way. He did have to clean out jacked-up cartilage and shave some bone off, but there was no damage that he couldn't fix me up good as new. He assured me that when I saw him next, I'd be bringing him cookies because I'd be sooooooo glad he inflicted all this pain. We'll have to see about that. What I am looking forward to is the arm wrestling contest he promised me on my next visit. Apparently, if I can beat him when I go back in 5 weeks, then I'm all better and I don't have to go back any more. I hope he wears one of those t-shirts that makes it look like you are all muscley when we arm wrestle.

2. I also know that I am not appreciative of "Touched by an Angel" on this day. I'm guessing you all remember the show that used to be filmed in Utah. The storyline is the same for all the shows: Someone is sad, or mad, or hurt, and the angels come and show them how to make peace with God and that He loves them. It's on the Hallmark Channel every morning. I'm personally a fan of this show because I get the warm fuzzies every time I watch it and "7th Heaven". This morning, however, they took it too far. It was about a kid named Petey that was dying. He had a single mom (Wynona Judd) and a cute little best friend. He made a list of things to get done before he died and of course they were all wonderful, thoughtful things not for himself, but for his mom and friend. He wanted his mom to finish writing a song she started when he was born, his friend to meet Celine Dion, a flag in his yard telling the angels where to find him when he died, and several other things for his mom. The last 2 minutes of the show, his mom had finished that song and everybody he knew was in his yard singing it to him as his little friend raised the flag that said, "Petey lives here." And wouldn't you know it, he took that very minute to die and I cried and cried and I'm very angry with those Touched by an Angel people. If I wanted to be depressed and cry all the day I'd have watched "Little House on the Prairie" or maybe The Notebook.


This is Petey. Only don't get too attached, because he's dead. Nobody told me ahead of time to not get too attached.

Those are the 2 things I know this day.