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?