Tuesday, September 25, 2007
I'll post pictures and descriptions later, but until then I'll leave you with this thought:
I used to look at beautiful (if immodest) little black dresses on the hanger in stores. They had pretty sequins and tiny straps and whatnot, and I'd visualize beautiful women wearing these dresses to fancy parties.
Lesson learned in Vegas: There are no beauty requirements for purchasing and then wearing into public the aforementioned little black dresses. Whoa. I'll keep my Old Navy capris and flip flops, but thanks.
Oh, and what's the deal with girls holding hands with girls and giggling to look cute?
Friday, September 21, 2007
I'm just now remembering that I forgot to take a picture of this absolutely hideous piece of, well, art?, that was in our hotel room-- not once, mind you, but twice. The exact same painting hanging in two different places in the room. Ha!
Last night we saw a truly mediocre-bordering-truly-bad rendition of 42nd Street at Tuacahn-- the company and the beautiful surroundings made up for the performance, though. (Have hotpants, Wendy? Even for a game of shuffleboard? Neither do I. Some funny memories, anyway.)
While the person I am married to has attended his work meetings, I have had a glorious time shopping, exploring, and relaxing. I blasted my way through a thoroughly engaging book, and couldn't have enjoyed myself more. Which brings me to my next thought...
I spent the majority of the day in the Santa Clara library, which just so happens to be beautiful. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out over the beautifully stark landscape of southern Utah. I love the library. I wonder sometimes why I didn't structure my life more carefully so I'd end up there more often. I love that it is brightly lit and full of books and comfortable chairs. I love that it is quiet. I love that no one thought it was weird that I sat curled up in a chair, moving only when my legs cramped beneath me. I would love to wander around through the dusty shelves. Occasionally I wonder why I didn't choose to surround myself with this all the time. I am quite certain I would have been happy and content.
No one there would yell at me over whether or not a person has the right to choose how to die. (Amazing, my job. To satisfy your curiosity without violating HIPAA privacy laws, let me say that it didn't involve a patient, or other employees, or any family members. Oh, and also apparently I lie. And smirk. Remind me that I like my job.)
I suppose the library would have been a good fit. But I would have found myself researching child abuse and terminal illnesses. I would have missed my interaction with my bright and talented clients who struggle with substance abuse. I suppose the cheesy phrase from my undergrad really is true. Social work is a calling, and unfortunately not even the draw of smell of a new book can pull me away for long.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
We have pictures from the trip to the zoo with Jordo and the Monk. By the by, Hogle Zoo doesn't have a hippo, a polar bear, or any lions. It's a good thing they had that kickin' white alligator to make up for it.
We also have pictures from our trip to Dog Lake with Kimmi, Indy, and the Lu. I'm not about to admit how long it's been since we actually went on that hike, but the pictures are cute.
For now, though, we're packing for our jaunt to Santo Jorge (which sounds more exotic than St. George) and Las Vegas where we are hoping to luck out and meet up with Scott and Ashley and gamble away our life savings.
I'll give a report on all of the above when we return, but you won't be able to tell when I'm lying and when I'm not. As the commercials say, what happens in Las Vegas...
Monday, September 10, 2007
Kris is lounging on the newly purchased Siesta Sac (which happens to be much cheaper than a Luv Sac) and is mostly paying attention to a new episode of Survivorman.
Husband: Lupe! Lupe-- sit. sit. Please sit. SIIIIT. Good dog! Ok Lupe, shake. C'mon, shake. SHAKE.
This type of dialouge continues for several minutes, punctuated with occasional sparks of laughter from a proud Husband when Lupe complies and somewhat grudgingly places her paw in his hand to receive the promised Bac'n strip snack.
Husband: Kris! Kris, watch, please! This is awesome! Lupe, shake. Shake. SHAKE.
Husband: (Groans.) I swear... just give me a minute.
Scene continues as before. Several minutes pass.
Husband: This is awesome! Wife! Watch this!
Lupe now complies readily, gobbling up her treat with great energy.
A day has passed. A couple is lounging on the aforementioned Siesta Sac, commenting on how it is easily as comfortable as a Luv Sac and how someone would be silly to spend half of a thousand dollars on the latter brand just to have that cool orange and black logo tag on it. Lupe is not lounging anywhere, but is fussing around with everything trying to draw attention away from the Sac discussion and the Chargers game playing in the background.
Husband: But, but, stop Lupe. STOP. I didn't even say shake. What are you doing?! I DON'T EVEN HAVE ANY TREATS!
As the wife laughs hysterically in the background, Lupe continues pawing at any part of the Husband she can get to, trying to elicit a treat as before. At one point, she catches him off-guard and drags her paw all the way across his face, altogether quite proud of herself for her excellent "shaking" though she seems a bit confused about why no one is grabbing her leg and bouncing it up and down as before.
Husband: (forlornly) Kris, I'm a bad dad. Look at her. I should never have even taught her that stupid shaking thing. It's not even cute, and now she won't stop.
Wife continues chuckling, thinking about how hilarious life will be someday when they have real kids, and not just an adorable yellow lab.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Monday, September 3, 2007
Lupe: "I promise to stay nice and perky like this if you won't let that man put anything under my tail ever again."
To make the trip just a little more fun, the veterinarian had a strong southern accent. That meant that when he said "parvo" (some dog disease) it sounded a little like "parlay" from Pirates. This would not have been quite so funny if he didn't look almost exactly like this:
So, back to the carpet. It's a good thing we absolutely hate it anyway. We've steam cleaned it 4 times and sprayed it with a special pet-odor treater. Now I'm dumping white vinegar all over it, to be followed with oxy clean and some febreeze. If you have any bright ideas for getting the smell out, let me know. Just don't tell me how you learned them.