A Letter To The Spammers Who Screwed Up My Email

Dear Spammers,

Thank you for making me aware of how vitally connected I am to my email. This weekend, you somehow gained access to my email account and contacted everyone I know about your cheapo-scam website. Most people could tell that the email was not from me. (Next time, you might at least try to make it seem like you have more than a second grade education when you send an email from someone else.)

Also, thank you for deleting my ENTIRE contact list. You forced me to take a look at who I really want in there.

I thank you because your deplorable actions caused me to take some security measures I should have taken long ago. I keep hearing about people whose lives are ruined because of information theft-- thank you for the wake-up call.

Still, as we are all responsible for our actions, I am reporting you to every agency I can find. Seriously, you put a link to your website in the email-- brilliant. If it were up to me, you'd spend a little time in jail and all of it would be spent sitting in front of a computer typing "I'm Sorry" letters to all of the people inconvenienced by your stupidity.

Sincerely,

A Victim

Ode to Pilates, Week 2

Breathe, two , three four
Bend and stretch a little more.
Put my foot over my head?
Just one more rep and I'll be dead.

Hold that pose just one more minute
Might as well--think I'm stuck in it.
Stand on my head? Now that's a joke.
For that, I'd need more diet coke.

My arms are shaking, my legs are weak
My butt is burning, I cannot speak.
My gut's not feeling like it should
But man oh man, that sure felt good!

Seriously, Jamie, you in next week???

Top Ten

As Layne always says at the end of Sunday, "Another weekend shot in the butt." In the spirit of "glass half full" and all that, I offer my top ten of the week list:

10. I haven't heard back from the PTA council president yet. She sent me a nasty-gram email and asked me to respond. You bet I did. Sorry about that, Kara.
9. The week was completely soccer-game-free. Is that what it feels like to get out of jail?
8. I cooked every night but one. (Really, you want me to cook on Friday night?) Oh. Saturday doesn't count either.
7. I didn't water the lawn. The lawn didn't grow. I didn't have to mow the lawn. Why didn't I think of this before?
6. Mike wants to earn money for a new Wii game which costs about $60. Mike is my slave for a long time.
5. An article I wrote forever ago was published in the Ensign this month. You can read it here, if you're bored.
4. The construction crew finally came and finished my road. They actually swept up all of their cigarette butts and empty water bottles too! Somebody tip those guys.
3. Layne had a much better week at work this week. This means that we all had a much better week at home too.
2. I put over 80 miles on my bike this week in absolutely perfect weather every day. (Normally this would be #1)
1. President Uchtdorf's talk last night justified much of the mundane existence which is my life as a full-time mother and made me feel like homemaking is an art again. Go Moms!

Here's to a new week-- may we all be blessed with the creativity that is ours for the taking...

Stay-At-Home Mom?

One of the first questions I always get asked when I meet someone is, "what do you do?" I've always answered something like "I'm a stay-at-home Mom." I've decided that is a lie. I never stay at home, and I don't know any "stay-at-home" moms who really do.

Here's why. As if there aren't enough required things to do (grocery shopping, doctors, dentists, etc.) "stay-at-home" moms get all of the chores that the other moms don't do. PTA, soccer coach, carpool, church stuff-- you name it, it falls to us. We are the way the world gets done.

Some days it sounds pretty dang good to leave everything home, go somewhere with grown-ups and get paid to do much less than I currently do in a day. The reality is that the world needs more "stay-at-home" moms much more than we need more advertising executives.

So, next time someone asks me what I do, I'm gonna say I run the world.

Pilates Defined

After weeks and weeks of prodding, I ran out of excuses and joined my friends at Pilates last night. In case you're wondering, the word "pilates" is Latin for "suffer-fest." I'm fairly certain it was a type of Roman torture only used on people they really had it in for.

I've seen how stiff Tina, Calli, and Joy are for a day or two after this class and have avoided it quite well-- until last night. I think they all enjoyed the reversal of roles-- I was the clueless Padawan and they were all the Jedi Masters.

I walked into the torture chamber and watched as people staked a claim on a spot with a mat and a medicine ball. My friends, who all have mats of their own, of course, handed me one of the germ infested loaners. After some quick thinking, I staked my claim on the only spot in the room where I couldn't see myself in a mirror. (Good thinking me, right?)

It begins. The perky, skinny little sadist put on a microphone and began asking us to contort our bodies into painful, unnatural positions, all the while blabbering about nothing in the attempt to distract us from the fact that she said "Four More!" about twenty repetitions ago. Pure trickery. Pure evil.

The whole time, I'm doing my best to make it look easy. I can't see myself in the mirror, but I'm sure no one is noticing my beet red face and the dripping sweat pouring down my neck, right? What I'm really hoping is that no one notices me at all, because the real reason I avoid this kind of thing is that I am God's gift to the graceful people-- you know that gift that makes them all point and laugh and feel superior? Yeah. That's me.

Pilates Patty or whatever her name is finally declared free time and showed us a few things to work on. When she did a move called the "elephant" where she twisted her legs about five times, lifted them over her head, then raised herself up on one hand (not really), I had to laugh. Obviously she is the devil who is inhabiting the body of Cheerleader Gumbi. I do have to admit, though, that the stretches at the end were fabulous.

So, nearly 24 hours later, my body is starting to protest its mistreatment. Seriously, I can ride a bike for 60 miles and not feel a thing the next day, but a 55 minute class taught by someone I could throw across the room with one hand leaves me feeling like I got stuck under a steamroller? Like I said, Latin for suffer fest.

So, in the spirit of misery loves company, my question is who's joining me next week?

I Love Mop 'n' Glo!

In a few moments of responsibility (to counter my irresponsibility from Wednesday), I shut the garage on my poor bike this morning and picked up a broom. (I know, you'd think that maybe I was going to ride it after the last couple of posts :-) Instead, I cleaned everything-- all three bathrooms and even the black hole that is the kid's toy room in the basement. (Seriously, why would you leave a half eaten apple on the couch??)

In all my nerdliness, I really enjoyed cleaning my new kitchen. In the spirit of newness, I gave up the pine-sol used by my mother, my mother's mother, and so forth, for Mop 'n Glo. Love it! My new floor was so shiny that Layne thought it was wet two hours after I'd done it.

Makes me wonder if it's time to get rid of Ajax too???

Post-Note: After reading this blog, my mother wants me to let y'all know that she switched to Mop 'n Glo YEARS ago. Thanks, Mom, for leaving me in the dust. Or Pine-Sol, as the case may be.

The Rudendess Syndrome

I think that I made my feelings about the road construction sufficiently clear yesterday. After careful observation, however, I think that I neglected one very important side effect of this debaucle-- a marked increase in rudeness.

Utah has always been a scary place to drive. I guess perhaps it is the faux power we feel in relative anonymity. (No one knows it's me in this sea of silver mini-vans.) We take out our frustrations from behind the wheel. For example, the only time I ever saw my dad flip the bird was in traffic.

The Anonymous Utah Driver Principle states that, even though the moron who just cut you off and stole your parking place might be someone you know (c'mon, this is a very small town), you have to pretend it's a stranger you'll never see again.

However, since the beginning of the AFIP (Really stands for American Fork Irrigation Project, although I'm reworking the acronym to stand for A Flippin' Imbecilic Piece-of-Crap, or at very least the American Fork Irritation Project) the rudeness on the road has made its way indoors.

Take for example the woman at the Target food counter today. (We'll save the reason I was eating there for another day.) The checkout girl was new and accidentally added on a $1.75 box of breadsticks to her order. You'd think the girl had tried to steal her social security number. When she finally settled down enough to go get her Icee at the Icee machine and she discovered they hadn't given her one of those special dome shaped lids, she really hit the roof.

A short while later at Wal-Mart, I got my head bitten off by some lady whose child was blocking the isle. I said "Excuse me, please" in my nicest talking-to-a-little-kid voice, and she looked at me like I spoke Japanese. I said it again, a little louder, waiting for her mother to hear me and move her out of the way. Nothin'. I said "Excuse me" louder this time, and the mother turned and looked at me like I had just ran over her child with my cart.

She went off on me about yelling at her kid, and as I tried to explain how I had nicely said "please", she mocked me and said, "Sure you did. She's just a little girl. Some people...." I left quickly.

Doug looked up at me in horror-- I think he was ready to go back and fight the lady for me. He asked if I felt bad and I told him a little, but that it was okay. He said, "Don't feel bad, Mommy. Your family still loves you and families are better than meanies." What a cutie.

My whole point in these illustrations is that they are happening more frequently and I attribute it to the AFIP. People can only tolerate and absorb a certain amount of rage before it starts spilling out of their mouths all over whoever happens to be in their path. Being as we are all subject to exponentially higher amounts of it every time we start our engines, I'm afraid we're all going to see more of this over the next three years. The city should have included in the AFIP budget a few doses of valium for each household, just to keep the peace.

Oh, and to the lady who vomitted her rage on me today, I hope that your little outburst made you feel better somehow. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to explain to my 4 year old son about why some grown-ups don't use their good manners.

An Open Letter to the Brain Surgeons In-Charge of the AFIP (American Fork Irrigation Project)

Dear Sirs,

Wow! I just want to thank you for the excellent job you’ve done of planning and executing the first few months of the AFIP. It is obvious that great thought went into timing the road construction just-so.

For example, starting down 900 East on the day that school started was pure inspiration. Why in the world would we want parents to get used to safely dropping off their children on the first day of school? As they would need to find a different route there every day, it was brilliant to make sure that no one got too comfortable on that first day.

I also want to compliment you on your choice of employees working on this project. Speaking only from my own personal experience, they are truly stellar individuals. I have appreciated every one of the cigarette butts left on my street. Seeing them work has been the picture of efficiency, as often one of them is actually working and the other five are “supervising”. I have truly been pleased to wind my way home and find them parked in front of my driveway blocking access to my home, or smoking under my tree.

My best experience yet happened just yesterday. One crew was busy on the end of my street paving the trench. As I live in a cul-de-sac, my understanding was that they were not supposed to block access completely out of our neighborhood. As these kind gentlemen always follow that rule to the letter, I guess I could have gotten through, had I driven a few feet on my neighbor’s lawn. I chose instead to come through the opening in the gate to the street below.

As soon as I came through, trying to get to the next street to take my son to pre-school, a kind gentleman with impeccable manners told me I couldn’t go that way either. As the other road was blocked, I asked him how he suggested that I proceed. Apparently my tone of voice was not to his liking, and he answered me with some of the most colorful language I’ve heard in a long time. Kudos again on finding some very creative people. Who knew you could use so many four letter words in one sentence?

Thank you also for helping me to see streets and areas of American Fork that I haven’t been down in years. I have had to hone my own creativity in finding my way home, especially when I find that the two major East-West streets are closed at the same time. Way to make us think outside of the box. I love driving extra miles and miles with gas prices so wonderfully low right now.

Really, I don’t know how things could go any better. If we actually felt a sense of correlation and planning behind this nightmare, we might not really appreciate it when it was done. I, for one, applaud the wonderful job you’re doing. Makes me wish I would have voted for the thing!

Sincerely,

Kim Garrett

Playing Hookie

I was all set to be responsible this morning. I got up, got the kids to school, and threw the bike on the trainer, thinking I'd put in a quick 30 minutes before I had to shower and get to my meeting with the principal. Just as I'm about to begin my suffer-fest, Tina called.

Somehow, the stars had aligned just right, and both of their husbands were home and able to watch all the kids. It took me about 10 seconds to call the principal and beg out of my meeting. The funny thing was that I didn't feel one drop of guilt about it-- not even one.

You see, today was the perfect day for a ride, and that justifies whatever you have to do to get out. If I could pick ride conditions for every ride I do, they would match today. The weather was just right-- not too cold or too hot. The roads, although beat up (gotta love American Fork right now), were relatively empty. I had two awesome friends by my side, my favorite cycling gear was clean, my bike was lubed-- seriously, does it get any better?

We headed Southwest to the Jordan Parkway Trail for a round trip of 22 miles. This was Tina and Calli's longest ride ever. We were all so happy to be there-- everyone should do something that makes them feel that alive.

My only guilt came from the fact that Layne was stuck at work while I was out thoroughly enjoying myself. Sorry, Babe. Maybe you can go after work?

Too Many Peaches

Don't be surpised if there are extra keystrokes in this post. My fingers are sticky, as is every other part of me, from canning peaches tonight. Yes, I have gone domestic and actually bottled fruit. (Not only that, I actually bought my OWN steamer-thing. That would be more impressive if I knew what it was called, huh?)

My mom, dad and sisters turned my mom's kitchen into a factory and cranked out 50 quarts and 30 pints. We canned until we ran out of bottles, energy and time.

The peaches were in the kitchen, filling every container Dad could find when he picked them. At one point, we came in and found Doug sitting on top of the peaches in the laundry basket. I yanked him out and started scolding him and he just looked at me with that "What did I do wrong?" look. He sits on my laundry in the basket all the time-- I guess he didn't see the difference. That's Doug for you.

Peaches, peaches, peaches. Mike ate so many, I'm just waiting for the poor kid to start moaning from the bathroom. I'm pretty sure that's all the kids had for dinner. Come to think of it, that's what I ate too. I think I've had enough, though. Until next year, that is...

A Perfect Moment

Due to the ward campout last night (which we bailed on after dinner), we had no babysitter for our usual Saturday morning ride. Taking advantage of a good excuse, we slept in this morning, which was delicious. It left us in such a good mood that we decided to get up and be good parents and take the kids out for a family bike ride.

They had already fed themselves breakfast (awesome skill, by the way), so we packed up pretty quickly and left. Even though we were only going to do about 5 miles of the Jordan Parkway Trail, they put on their bike shorts and insisted that we do the same. My boys are hilarious in their spandex glory-- really, should lycra ever be baggy? The padded butt makes it even funnier, but they think they're cool.


After some issues loading the bikes, we got to the trail. It was about 72 degrees, the sun was shining and there was a tiny breeze blowing. A few of the leaves were starting to turn gold and red and if you watched carefully enough, you could see a fish come to the surface of the Jordan River every once in a while.

Layne had Doug on the tandem today. He was pedaling along, looking around, standing up every once in a while and yelling, "Pedal faster, Daddy!" Emalee was right behind Layne, showing off her skills and trying to pass him when he wasn't looking.

I kept Mike right in front of me, as he is pretty unsteady on his tiny Trek 1.2. It's way too much bike for a 6 year old, but he looks so flippin' cute on it, I couldn't resist. He did great, too, until he tried to catch Emalee and got going so fast that his feet flipped right off the pedals and he nearly went down.



As I'm bringing up the rear, I realized that this was a truly perfect moment in my life. I was with the perfect people, doing the perfect thing, on a perfect day. There is nothing in the world that would have made that hour any better for me-- not a single thing. Those moments are so rare in life, and it is even more rare to realize that you are in the middle of one. I knew it was short-lived-- an hour at most-- but I still thanked God for giving me that piece of heaven and I asked that it would be captured so well in my memory that I can draw on it during the "unperfect" moments sure to come.

The Solution

Calli and Tina found a solution to the ride problem-- Tina watched Calli's kids while she and I did 12 miles, then they switched and Tina and I did another 10 or so. I don't know how it went for them, but it worked out really well for me.

Calli and her new bike were dying to open up and see what they could do. We got a good warm up through town to the south side and went over my nemesis railroad tracks. I asked her if she was ready to open it up, she said "heck yeah." I shifted 53/12, stood up over the cranks and hit 28 mph right quick. I have to admit I was showing off, and proceeded to "kick her trash" to the end of the mile long street. (Her words, not mine.)

Yes, I was showing off. Yes, the cycling court of ethics should suspend me for wiping the floor with a newbie-- especially a good friend newbie. In my defense, I have to say I pushed it more for the joy of pushing it-- because it's been a seriously long while since I opened up like that.

Calli was great about it. She pulled up to me at the stop sign and said "That" (wheeze) "was" (wheeze) "freakin'" (double wheeze) "Awesome!" (wheeze, cough, wheeze). I was wheezing a little myself (I kicked my own trash, too.) One mile in 2 min, 20 seconds. Not bad.

*Side note-- I was particularly proud of my padawans today. They both averaged over 15 mph-- pretty dang good for newbies! Good job, Tina and Cal!

More Bad Bike Mojo

I've got bad bike mojo hangin' around me. I just have to face it. This is usually my favorite month for cycling-- perfect weather, Doug in preschool for 5 hours a week-- I should be getting in at least 3 awesome rides a week. So, since school started, why have I only had 1?

Part of the time, I have been going with my new padawan cyclists. Being Tuesday yesterday, I got ready for a 30 miler while Doug was busy learning about the letter "B". I got my Pilot 5.2 out of the garage, worried that she'd be mad at me for spending so much time on the FX. She didn't hold a grudge, though and I tenderly guided her through the minefield which is now my street. (Dang construction crews!) However, when I stopped to see if Calli wanted to come, everyone else did too. I took Pilot back home and traded for FX with the tandem attached. I haven't dared look at Pilot since-- I'm sure she'll hold a grudge. My plan was to ride 10 with them then trade and get in 15 or so by myself.

Bike Mojo had a different plan. Calli had one kid in a trailer, Tina had one in hers, and I had a kid on the tandem. After 5 miles, Calli's trailer blew a wheel-- splattering tire slime all over the road-- and all over Joy, which was funny. We ditched the trailer in someone's front yard and put two kids in Tina's trailer. Calli and Joy bailed (every man for herself), and Tina and I slowly made our way back up out of Saratoga Springs.

One mile later, Tina blows a wheel on her trailer and we are officially done. We were close to where her husband parks his truck for the park-n-ride (yay Ken!), and Tina luckily had the keys, so we unhooked the trailer and she went to get the truck. Sitting there on the side of the road with three kids, I started to laugh. Tina got back and we both laughed, then felt pretty dang cool for rescuing ourselves, then we picked up Doug and ate Subway for lunch.

Bad ride, but funny day, actually. But tomorrow, I'm going for broke :-)

Dust to dust

I've spent the last few days in a cleaning frenzy. Now that my kitchen is done, I don't have any more excuses for the inch and a half of dust that has accumulated on every surface of my home. You know it's time to do something about it when your kids start leaving you messages written on top of the piano. Who needs dry erase anyway?

I filled a vaccum bag, used up most of a can of furniture polish, am stiff in the shoulders from washing and scrubbing, but at least the bottom floor of the house is clean. Well, almost. I haven't gotten to the bathroom yet. We won't talk about how the kids are leaving me messages in there...

About Freakin' Time

It's finally done! The contractor finished up all of the little things today, I paid him and I now have my house back! Except it's not really my house back-- at least part of it is brand new.

It looks fantastic, if I do say so myself. After countless trips to Home Depot, Lowe's and various other flooring, tile, lighting, etc. stores, I finally have things in the kitchen exactly the way I want them. From this point on, all of the dirt that gets in there is my own dirt-- not 30 years of other peoples' accumulated shiz.

This is the first time in my life where I have not settled for anything. Layne spoiled me rotten. I wanted granite countertops-- I got them. I wanted a tile backsplash-- I got it. I wanted all new stainless appliances-- got them too. It is beautiful-- I could just stare at it all day.

The only problem with this whole situation is that, now that I have the kitchen just how I want it, my bedroom seems awfully outdated. . .

A little spaghetti

The coolest thing happened today-- I cooked spaghetti. Yes, I know, it's only spaghetti. I ate so much of the flippin' stuff growing up that it's not one of my favorite meals. (The seemingly weekly rotation also included tacos, beef stroganoff, corned beef casserole, and lasagne casserole-- I never make any of those things now, althought my family has probably had it with grilled chicken, stir fry and, well any other thing with chicken in it.)

Anyway, I am so excited to cook spaghetti because it means that my kitchen is finally finished!!! Okay. Finished as in useable. The contractor is coming back tomorrow to do a few more touch ups, but for all intents and purposes, we are back in business!

I spent most of last night putting things in cupboards and cleaning up. I could have cried to eat my cereal out of a real bowl with a real spoon this morning. The best part is that the kitchen is as good as I envisioned. When I was cooking the spaghetti, there was actually room for Em, Mike and Doug to be in there helping me. No more one-woman kitchen! Now the little turds will have to come up with a different excuse for not helping me in the kitchen because now, there actually IS room!

My New Converts

I now have my own cycling club. There are four of us and most of the time we are all pulling multiple children in trailers or on tagalongs.

I used to be the only one in lycra-- until today. I spent most of the afternoon helping two of my crew to buy new bikes. Calli even went full-bore with cycling shoes, pedals and yes, even BIKE SHORTS! She looks wicked cool on her new Trek 1.2 WSD. Joy looks equally cool on her FX 7.2 WSD. I'm still working on getting a bike for Tina.

I have to say that all of this is somewhat like being a missionary. However, I'd forgotten the somewhat stressful aspect of that calling-- the part where you feel responsible for getting everyone into whatever it is that you're converting them to.

I worry a little that one of them will get hurt or will regret these pricey purchases and that will be my fault. I'm not positive they are all going to be junkies like me and it's a little worrisome. I know they are all grown ups, but the big sister in me thinks that I am somehow responsible for everyone else.

Well, either way, at least for now I have riding buddies and we can take advantage of the absolutely gorgeous weather that is fall!

Good Day to be a Woman

I'm sitting here watching Sarah Palin give her acceptance speech for the Republican VP nomination and I am proud to be a woman. This lady is super-cool. She was talking about driving herself to work and being a hockey mom (is that like a soccer mom here?) She is awesome. Maybe it's a good thing that McCain is so old. If he kicks it in office, we're in seriously capable hands. (She was a PTA president, after all! :-)

Doug's first day of preschool-- year two

No, my son was not held back in pre-school. About this time last year, I decided that Doug was getting bored, and, quite honestly, I wanted a few hours a week to ride my bike-- so I enrolled Doug in pre-school. He did very well, of course.

This year is Doug's legitimate year for pre-school. He went off like it was no big deal-- he told me I didn't need to walk him to the door because he already knew the way. It was all I could do to get the picture above.

So there he goes. My baby doesn't need me to walk him to the door and I turned 34 on the same day. I lost my keys 4 times today, as well as my sunglasses, although they had just fallen down my shirt. I don't think that really counts as lost. I'm getting old...

We're pretending it's my birthday

My birthday is really September 2nd-- tomorrow. However, because of ever present soccer and the other million things we have to do tomorrow, we're pretending today is my birthday. I'm 29, of course.

The day started in one of my favorite ways-- sleeping in on a rainy morning. Tina called at about 9:00 and said to get out of bed and go on a bike ride with her and Calli-- our one chance without trailers full of kids. We were having a blast-- about 5 miles in and then the storm hit. We rode most of the way home in serious wind. I then had my first experience of riding in HAIL. Not great, but it was kind of funny. Calli was almost challenging the storm. I was happy to get home when we did.

I spent the rest of the morning cleaning the bathrooms-- badly needed. You know it's time to scrub when you'd rather hold it and use the bathroom at Walmart than use your own toilet. I'm feeling much better about it now.

We spent the rest of the afternoon at the cabin with my parents. It was beautiful, if not a little chilly. Here's some pics:

All in all, it was a pretty good almost birthday. We'll see how I feel about being 29 and 10 halfs tomorrow...