MUD BATHS

Okay, looks like somebody dropped the ball here, kids.

The ball named ZUPAS with highly desirable dainty chick menu items. Mm hmm. That's right. Seems SOMEBODY (mouthing and pointing at 'you') took the day off for a facial and spa treatment, leaving the information behind in some mucky mud bath remains. And obviously, what washes off in mud baths, STAYS in mud baths. Which left MOI out in the cold, rainy afternoon~much like Donna Summer's disco cake~about that there heavenly cuisine...some of which I consumed and gorged upon this afternoon.

And now I have no choice but to treat myself to a daily affair there, wearing a tiara and smoking a long stemmed cigarette, just as Audrey Hepburn at Tiffanys. On account of I need to fill my noggin with intelligence and knowledge, so as to be well qualified in giving tonight's FHE lesson, which just so happens to be about smarts.

Cuz how can I suggest to YOU, my blog peeps, which place to lunch with your ladies, if I haven't versed myself well in all things pesto and berry salad and such?

I can't.

Thus, the required menu sampling. The takin' one for the team. The necessary vinaigrette seeds stuck between teeth and cheesecake caramel dribbling off my chins.

You're welcome.

By the way, is it just me, or do you all suck in as you walk past your full length bathroom mirror on the way to the toilet too?

Oh.

Okay, then.

It's just me.

Well...

Let us never speak of this again.

BEES AND BUMS

Inspiring Family Home Evening handout, plagiarized by Princess Lisa (thank you, President Hinckley)~'cept that last part...which, I think we can all agree, is breathtakingly profound and reflective, especially when attached to the Bit-o-Honey, with a picture of a bee on it, people~thank you very much. Let's face it, Lisa is a heavy hitter in the innovative idea arena.

Back to School family dinner, complete with vegetable cheese soup, homemade bread sticks, fresh fruit and cream and a festive tablecloth sewn by my mother dear...because I'm better than you, that's why. Probably love my family more, too. (shrug)

Flowers purchased for Back to School family dinner. Smelling suspiciously like farts today.

Proof of love. For doth a stranger walk into a store and straight faced purchase satiny smooth 'Lady Anti Monkey Butt' for a distant relative, simply because she mentioned in a facebook update that she'd ridden a horse and now had a primate's rump? I think not...unless love courses through her veins like Dr. Pepper through my straw. Thank you, dear cousin Julia.

WARNING

I know what you're thinking. And the answer is yes. Yes, okay? YES, IT WAS ME THE COP PULLED OVER THIS MORNING!

I know what you're thinking. And the answer is yes. Yes, okay? YES, IT WAS ILLEGAL!

I know what you're thinking. And the answer is yes. Yes, okay? YES, IT IS AWESOME TO BE THE MIDDLE AGED WOMAN WHO GETS OFF WITH A WARNING, RATHER THAN THE PUNK-A TEENAGER SIGNING THE TICKET!

Whoever said life isn't fair...wasn't me this morning.

HEAVENLY EYES

QUICK! SHUT YOUR BLINDS! YOU DO NOT WANT TO SEE THIS, AND THERE'S NO STOPPING IT!

I'm stripping down in preparation for the annual, "I'm a mom, and the kids have all gone to school, so I'm dancing naked because I must" ritual. And I'm not gonna lie to you, folks~it's kind of gross. Thus the warning. Take heed.

I'm wearing a spring bonnet and have my cinnamon/vanilla candle glowing as a symbolic gesture. It's kind of like burning incense in the temple~or burning people at the stake~or burning ticks out of bums...symbolic like that. It's my little way of ridding the home of creatures like summertime farts and hairy legs thrown across chairs whilst tipping back a cup full of blended (to a fine powder) saltine cracker shards (none of which fall to the floor unattended.) Not that I don't find those things as appealing as fruit flies swarming my kitchen like flies do turd...a post for another day...but let's just say they've worn out their welcome.

Now here's something funny~just as I'm finishing this less than tender post, I get a call from Bitty Boo. She's just waved her oldest two off for their first day of real school, and she and her littlest walked home together, hand in hand and heart to heart, as they wept and consoled each other with a plan to go to the school in an hour, just to "check on them."

And suddenly, I remember those days. When they wore outfits instead of T-shirts. When their new shoes made them run faster. When a head full of curlers bowed over folded arms for night time prayers.

Then that one day, when I walked them to the playground fence, and I stopped while they continued on without me. I made a simple request of the woman I was back then~ "Take a picture in your heart right now, Lisa. This is not coming back. Watch them. Watch them. Don't walk away until they're out of your sight." And though I'm often known to be less than obedient, this time I listened.

Even now, as I type these words, I'm looking at this heart picture, and I see all of my children disappearing into the past. I watch, and I watch, until eventually, they're all gone from my view. One so far away, I can't even see him on the American Continent.

But I take comfort that when my mortal eyes stop seeing, the heavenly eyes take over. Angels climb onto the bus. They take playground duty. Some board the plane to Brazil. And hand in hand and heart to heart with our Heavenly Father and heavenly family, the village continues to raise the child.

But oh, how grateful I am for those heart pictures. I shall tight fist them for eternity.

Gaga Lisa

Princess Lisa is getting ready to speak at a Young Women's girls camp this evening and she needs your help. She's not sure if she should wear her blue velvet formal and chandelier earrings, or S'more smeared hoodie and camp fire perfume.

Here's the conundrum~while wearing four inch heels, she must walk the precarious line between looking credible~oooooorrrrrr~BEING ONE with the girls camp experience. Whether or not she is credible is not pertinent here, friends. It's all about the facade. And you should know that by now. (irritated eye roll)

I'll take input until about an hour before I leave~I need enough time for ringlets and powder.

Speaking of ringlets, do any of you remember when we used to pull our hair back in a tight bun, with plastic butterfly barrettes and side-burn ringlets? Those were the days. The fashion forward, shades of cocoa blush and disco days of my youth. I have to say, at the risk of sounding like a braggart, I had me some sweet moves as the masculine half of a 6th grade disco partnership.

What.

Boys don't dance.

We did what we had to do, so shut it.

Anyway, I remember it like it was yesterday...(Lisa dons a dreamy expression while looking heavenward, picture fades out and returns with BOW CHICCA WOW WOW music.)... Bell bottom jumpsuits...Tony home perms...light blue eyeshadow from lash to brow. Reuniting felt so good with peaches...and herbs...and some idiot who left a cake out in the rain that Donna Summer had SLAVED OVER, PEOPLE...and she JUST DOESN'T KNOW IF SHE CAN TAKE IT! And who can blame her?! Plus add to the mix that I told people I was Bionic, fully convinced myself, and you have a pretty good picture of pre-pubescent Princess Lisa.

But that's beside the point. Hello-ooo? It's about what I'm wearing tonight? Remember? Geez. Try to stay focused.

Course, if you fail me, I'm going with my back-up plan. It's a little thing I like to call "HOLLYWOOD/GAGA/OBAMA PRINCESS LISA." Six words~me...naked...spray-glue...hot...pink...glitter. So distracting, it won't matter that there's no substance.

Wish me luck, friends!

BAWDY

This here produce was found in our garden.

And yes, I know it's past it's prime.

And no, it wasn't me if you find it in the backseat of your car after church.

And yes, it is your fault~you should have locked your car doors.

And lastly, some of you were privileged to view the unedited 'Boy holds a zucchini' ~before shame and judgement kicked in. To you late comers, remember, the early bird gets the worm...the crass, bawdy, suggestive 'inyendo' worm. No worms left for you. Sad.

But feel free to use your mind's eye with these three things in mind...

1)He's male.

2)He's male.

3)He's male.

GROOMER MONKEY MOM

It's over folks. They're back, just like static ghosts on a TV screen. But it's OK. I had just enough time without them to bring back natural affection. It's kind of like dog year love~a couple days me-time gives back seven times the original sacrifice. Pretty good return on your investment, if you ask me. Course, that means in two weeks, I'll need another reprieve. I'm sending them to your house. It's the least you can do.

By the way, did I mention I ran a red light the other day? Just treated it like a mere suggestion and drove right on through. But see, I needed gas to get home from the sand dunes, because Shower, Shampoo and Mall Shopping me-time were sitting on the front porch swing at home, arms folded and tapping their feet impatiently...and the gas station was on the other side of the red light. Thus, the steely determination of a woman with her eye on the prize.

And even after the blaring horn of the cowgrandpa who came within inches of plowing into me, I was hardly even rattled. Which should concern me, folks~but it doesn't. It just proves how focused I can be~which verifies I don't have ADD~which is always a relief.

Mmm. Pie.

Where was I?

Hey, that rhymed!

Anyway, SO sorry cute little furiously cussin', scarcely tall enough to see over the dashboard Idaho grandpa, for giving you a heart attack with my shameful road manners.

By the way, there is a fine dusting of sand over every surface in our home. And a LARGE quantity of time was spent with a box of Q-tips and ear canals yesterday. Funny how, "MOM! I ALREADY CLEANED THEM OUT IN THE SHOWER! GEEZ!" is code for, "You'll likely find about a cup and a half of dirt and a smattering of black heads mixed in with the ear wax. Enjoy, groomer monkey mom, enjoy."

And I did, especially when I would shove the filthy cotton swab under their noses to show them what I'd retrieved. They'd recoil. I'd scratch my armpits, swing from Red Vines and monkey laugh as only a parental primate can do. Good times, peeps. Good times.

Well, time to get back to whatever it is I do.

Wait, did somebody mention pie?

CHARMED SQUIRREL

I'm alone, peeps. Sooo very alone. I've been wandering from room to room, trying to figure out how best to spend my me-time embarrassment of riches. So far, I've managed to almost finish horking down my 'one pound eaten~one pound gained'~box of luxurious chocolates.

And not shower.

And experience Prince in Purple Rain.

I know. It's like I'm an investment banker, so wise I am in my acquisition and expenditures.

I keep waiting for the clerk at the register to take scissors to my time card and tell me I've gone over my limit. But sources say I've another 24 hours to squander.

It's too much. I don't know what to do with it all. It's like a treasure chest filled with a bounty of unread novels, sweet pork salads and Johnny Depp chick flicks and I'm trying to stuff it all in my bra and improvised shirt pouch. But you know, a gal can only hoard so much~eventually, she has to walk away from the cornucopia and just be happy with the nuts she managed to shove into her chubby varmint cheeks.

Lucky for me, they were cashews, mixed with milk chocolate and caramel.

That Princess Lisa is one charmed squirrel.

LUXURIOUS CHOCOLATES

Okay, I'm back. I was excited (compelled) to accompany my husband, children and neighbors on a trip to the sand dunes. Before my early departure home from said filth, I managed to make a quick trip into town and found a place to buy a luxurious box of chocolates. Good thing they tell you up front how much you'll gain by devouring the entire thing~and just for the record, I think one pound is very reasonable.

Anyway, HERE is my latest article for Blissfully Domestic~read it and we'll call it even for today. Love you, pumpkins~

WISH SHE WAS DYSLEXIC

I DID EVERYTHING RIGHT, PEOPLE! I did death bed repentance exercise~for FOUR (4) DAYS. I peed in the cup and had her draw blood first, so as to rid myself of every last ounce I could. I weighed my shirts~one in each hand~to see which was the skinniest before I put it on. I sucked in and blew out at the exact same time when I stepped on the scales. EVERYTHING RIGHT... and still...STILL...WAAAAY WORSE THAN I THOUGHT!!!!

She told me I didn't have to look, but then she made me JOHN HENRY where she'd WRITTEN DOWN IN BLUE PEN the actual numbers...AAALLLL PUT TOGETHER IN THE WRONG ORDER! I think she might be dyslexic. Either that or I have very sinewy arms...and legs...and boobs...and ankles...and lower jaw...and LET'S LEAVE MADBROOK AND KRISPY KREME OUT OF THIS, OKAY FRIENDS?

She asked for my Driver's License~insisted it was necessary. Sha! RIGHT! Necessary for her to have my proclamation weight to compare with the reality. No wonder her abs were so tight...all that hearty laughter when they're placed side by side.

But...and here's some good news...my blood pressure was fine! FINE, PEOPLE! And that right there is reason to celebrate~with MORNING CAKE! And no more exercise...both of which I deserve. Because as I've always been taught, "By their fruits ye shall know them." And since all that brisk walking with jazz hands and hip thrusts (Michael Jackson on the Ipod~couldn't be helped) reaped no reward, well, I guess we know it's from a bad tree.

A fruitless tree.

A tree that would be better off heavy laden with pastries.

Now THAT is something I'd plant.

DAINTY

HEY, GUESS WHAT?! 'MEMBER THAT TATTLE TELL NURSE APPOINTMENT FOR THE 'UPON UNTIMELY DEATH' LIFE INSURANCE POLICY? YEAH, WELL, IT'S TOMORROW MORNING! AND SORRY ABOUT THE YELLING, BUT ONCE AGAIN, THAT'S HOW IT SOUNDS IN MY BRAIN, AND I'M JUST TRANSLATING WHAT I HEAR...

And yes, I'm vacillating between starve and purge today, on account of the whole "death bed repentance" concept that works so well for me. And I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Princess Lisa, if climbing on those digital scales causes you such grief and pain...if it's the thorn in your side...the bat in your cave...the pee when you cough...then WHY, OH, WHY DON'T YOU DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT?

To which I reply~

~with the raising of my fatty sausage middle finger...

But first I suck off the Cheetos residue. Cuz I'm dainty like that.

EXPOSURE

Vintage Retro Jr. Class Pres~in character for opening assembly

~eat your heart out, John Travolta

Hi, peeps. I'm still recovering from yesterday...and last week...and this past month...and pretty much all of December through July......and really, everything that has happened since probably 1989. But that's another story for another day. Today is about yesterday, which is really about the past, and living vicariously through my second son's high school experiences...which I insist on playing a starring role in...not because I WANT to, people...but because I HAVE to...in order to satisfy the "DO-OVER" demons. They look like Prince. And they have big hair. And they wear shoulder pads with Miami Vice jackets. At least mine do~yours might be from a different era. They never really leave you alone, until you've proven yourself worthy to all of the A-holes in your memory banks. Anyway~

You know how people say, "If I could go back for just one day, I'd..." fill in the blank? Yeah, well, I did. Yesterday. It was the Jr. Class Officers movie making day, and yours truly was the writer/director/producer/choreographer/cinematographer/caterer... and yeller at sonner.

Son~"Hey, Mom, I don't think you're--"

Perspiring mom~"SON! (weak smile) Honey? SHUT IT!"

Son~"Mom, seriously, this isn't--"

Melting Mother~(angry two fingered eyeball point)

Son~"But--"

Black mascara eye boogered, red faced, rasping breath matriarch~"DEAR! I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!" (sharp hand puppet mouth close)

Course I didn't. I missed hordes and gobs of shots that I'd intended to take. But listen, folks, when you've got a perimenopausal woman, running backwards in heels as she tries to film eight pairs of shoes walking to the beat of the Bee Gee's~in 100 degrees with 97% humidity~for two freaking hours~all while trying to act totally unaffected by the sludgy blood pounding through her weakening vessels as it tries to escape out her ears~well, you can just imagine my breezy demeanor and light hearted laughter echoing through the early August high school hallways.

Anyway, Do-Overs aren't nearly as much fun as I thunk them to be. On account of I won't even get my name in the credits of this brilliant opening assembly production. On account of there's no official moniker for MOTHER OF JR. CLASS PRES. On account of APPARENTLY, I HAD my day in the awesome 80's sun and now, it's HIS millennium time to disco ball shine.

Which is OK with me. Cuz if these wrinkles, freckles and sunspots are any indication, I've had more than my fair share of exposure. Time to fold up that silver reflector and take my chaise lounge to the cool shadows of the wind beneath his wings.

Go ahead and soar, son. I've got the fan positioned juuuuust right.

RETURNED WITH HONOR

HALLELUJAH AND PRAISE 'OFF' SPRAY WITH DEET, BECAUSE PRINCESS LISA HAS RETURNED WITH HONOR...AND WITHOUT TICKS, from her YOUNG WOMEN GIRLS CAMP EXPEDITION!

And just like a good paint job, my tree hugging success was a direct result of painstaking prep, people. On account of the night before departure, I spent five hours in neurotic, hand wringing anxiety, followed by six minutes REM stage sleep before the jolt of alarm clock adrenaline. A thrilling synopsis follows~

Five o'clock A.M.~ Dead Man Walking shower, make-up and tress assembly, before arriving at the beautiful Heber Valley mountain without a headache. Bowels seize and headache begins. Stand and peer over edge to observe what looks to be a bottomless well of profound and perpetual sleep deprivation. Pot-guts (portly squirrels) swarm and man their stations, leaving behind piles of smeared and steaming Pot-gut poo. Teenaged girls unpack and begin mass consumption of nutritionally void sewer-toot producing crapola. And all is well in Zion.

A couple of conversations heard over the course of the week~

USED CAR SALESMAN Bosom leader~"Hey, I hear there's a trail to the river that is downhill both ways."

GULLIBLE Princess Lisa~"Oooo...that sounds refreshing...and plausible. Let's go!"

On the way back up the DRIPPING ARMPIT SWEAT CONTAMINATED and 12x12 INCLINED PITCH HIKING TRAIL, PEOPLE! THAT'S RIGHT, HIIIIIIIIKING TRAIL~fully realize there has been a seriously hostile breach of leader-to-leader etiquette.

B & M (rhymes with wbitching and grmoaning) Princess Lisa~"HEY, MY HEAD HURTS. DID EVERYONE HEAR ME? LET ME REPEAT AD NAUSEUM. I AM SUFFERING FROM A MIGRAINE, PEOPLE. IT HURTS. IT HURTS. IT REALLY REALLY HURTS. SEE HOW MY FACE IS LOPSIDED? SEE HOW ONE EYE IS WEEPING? THAT'S THE PHYSICAL MANIFESTATION OF SAID HEADACHE. DID I GRIPE AND COMPLAIN ENOUGH TO SUFFICIENTLY IRRITATE YOU WITH MY LESS-THAN-PIONEER CONSTITUTION? NO? WELL, THEN, LET ME CONTINUE..."

TEETH GRINDING Bosom leader~"You might want to take. some. Sudafed. LISA. I really think that will *help you. (*Shut you up.)"

PIGHEADED Princess Lisa~"I can't. My head hurts too much. I'm just going to whine about it~relentlessly~for the remainder of our time together. And finally, on the last night, I'll take the Sudafed, resulting in a full recovery that comes four days too late."

BOSOM LEADER INSERTING EAR PLUGS~"Well, okay then. As long as you have a plan. Idiot."

Add to the earthy mix~thunder and lightening, rain three out of four days, a hillside fire, strep throat and ear infections, some midnight puking, a permanent cloud of green air accumulating on the cabin ceilings, mild to severe cases of monkey butt, a surprising lack of oxygen, unexpected monthly gifts from Mother Nature, water fights, a spontaneous concert of 80's hits, toilet seat firecrackers and fully dexterous chipmunks capable of unscrewing lids off Blue Diamond almonds~and what you're left with is simply a question.

Why?

Why would Princess Lisa climb down from her sky blue throne, peel off her velvet ball gown and replace her sparkly tiara with cowboy hat, jeans and bug spray? Well, I'll tell you~

~Because when you've seen the Light of Christ shining in a young girls eyes, as she bears witness of her Savior's love for her, that her nature is divine and that she knows who she is, why she's here and where she is going...well, let's just say that a week of deprivation is an itty bitty baby dill pickle price to pay for such an experience as this. Truth be told, I'd give waaay more than that, if they asked me to...probably even my first born son...to bring the same joy, light and knowledge to my brothers and sisters on this earth....

...and, in fact, in a very small way, have done just that.....

.....of course, it's nothing compared to my Heavenly Father's sacrifice before me...

And THAT, dear reader, is the reason why.