Happy Birthday to Me Follow-Up

Thank you to everyone who IS making my birthmonth so wonderful! Thanks to Mom and Dad (for the beret and the shopping), Amy & Chris (for the soaps), Chip & M-L (for the soup and cookbook), & Mom and Dad Rhodes (for the gift of shopping.. I bought AWESOME yellow leather gloves to wear with my apple-green coat), thank you for all the cards, flowers, e-mails, and phone calls. I feel loved!

Happy Birthday to Me

I can't believe I don't blog more.

Well, it's that time of year... it's Birthmonth time! A mere 24 hours is just not long enough to celebrate the anniversary of a birth, so I have declared October my birthmonth (it IS my birth month, but I am making it my birthmonth... one word... semantics are everything!) One day of celebration used to be enough. I think that celebration is proportional to age: soon I'll be celebrating my birthyear and then my birthdecade, etc. If I am 90 and want to celebrate for a decade, who's to stop me? Not you! You'll probably be dead.

I've been asked, "What did you do on your birthday?" Fair enough, just remember what I said about one day not being enough...

I woke up way too early and, not wanting to wake up Todd early on a Saturday just to make me breakfast in bed, I puttered around the house.

When Todd realized that I was home and NOT at choir practice he brought me my present. He handed it to me while my eyes were closed (he's not much of a wrapper...):

Carrie: "Oh, yay! I needed a new teapot. Thank you, sweetheart."

Todd: "Yeah, sorry the lid is so small."

Carrie: "That's OK, I don't need a big tea pot anyway. And the lid just needs to be big enough for me to put water inside."

Todd: "Well, some people like to put things inside their tea pots."

Carrie: "I just put in water."

Todd: "Well, some people like to put in other things."

Carrie: "Besides water? Like what?"

Todd: "I don't know. Just other things."

I just stared at him for a moment. It was still early. But then he LOOKED at the teapot and I got it... I may be older, but that doesn't make me wiser... inside the teapot I found shopping. I love shopping. That's one of the best gifts you can get me... shopping, unless I need a new teapot.



So the rest of the day was spent doing laundry and getting Todd ready to go to Orlando. I would have gone with him, but I could not fit it into my teaching schedule. I drove Todd to the airport and kissed him goodbye. I love that man.

I drove over to the Brigham and picked up Mo for the quickest IKEA run ever. We ran in, got what we needed, and ran out. Birthday efficiency! Mo broke a lantern, so what!

Then we drove over to Market Street Grill and met Dad, Grandma & Grandpa Green, Amy & Chris, and Chip & Marie-Laure for a wonderful dinner. The food was good & the company better.






So the birthday celebrations continue on! Thank you Mom & Dad for more shopping, and for the beautiful red beret! Chip and Marie-Laure, thank you for the wonderful dinner on Sunday night, a delicious harvest feast, and I have enjoyed phone calls and notes from friends everyday since. Thank you, everyone! Let's keep the party going for at least 16 more days! Hurry home, Todd!

My Impending Death... and the After Party

I am not generally morbid. Nay, I am an eternal optimist, but I also like to be prepared. Therefore, I have taken it upon myself to make my own funeral arrangements, because I am also a perfectionist.

I leave this post to you, the surviving party planners... if you REALLY cared for me, you will do by bidding...

*Please note: I am perfectly healthy and not planning on dying soon, this is just for the record... that if I die, you all will know what to do about it.

First, I would like to point out the F-U-N in FUNERAL. Unless, by some tragedy I have fallen away from the people, things, and institutions that I love (such as family, banana splits, and the Church...) my funeral should be a CELEBRATION and a PAR-TAY! Only be sad for the afore mentioned reasons, not simply because I am gone. I know where I am (or am going). I am happy to be there, and happy to see people there. This should be a fun send off... BON VOYAGE. In fact, maybe there should be a banner that says that... (Note to self, call banner company...)

Due to the nature of the following requests, you (the party planner) may want to consider NOT holding this funeral in the chapel even though it is free. A park might be more appropriate, or the gymnasium at the church, but I don't know how they feel about having fire eaters in the building... I will try to die in the summer. Or somewhere warm...



Dead bodies at parties are a downer not to mention really scary. My physical body is not to be viewed or even present if you can help it. I want a pine box of untreated wood (or a large brown paper bag) and a plot out in the middle of nowhere or somewhere where you can plant a large tree or rosebush on top of me. I want my physical remains to be turned into something useful. But if you feel uncomfortable eating apples or apricots that used to be me, then consider something that flowers instead. If you feel you really want to mark my spot, a large angel with wings spread or a giant, white marble obelisk will do.

Here's a rough outline of the schedule of events:

*Arrival time-

Socializing as the guests arrive, some photos of my life set up, things I made that remind you of me, & hors d'oeuvres (deviled eggs, pigs-in-a-blanket, pots tickers, & crab cakes brought around on trays).

*Food & Games-

Carnival stuff: games for the adults and bouncy castles for the kids. It would be awesome if you won tickets and then could choose prizes. Food should consist of my favorite foods from the state fair: hot dogs, nachos, pizza, pretzels, funnel cakes, cotton candy, and fried candy bars (you might want to consider having it catered by Hot Dog on a Stick (the girls in the hats are so cute, the guy in the hot dog suit is your call).

*Elephant rides-

You read that right... find them and book them.



*Eulogy-

Whoever wants to... or better yet, pass out a quiz about me and give a prize to whomever knew the most answers! Here are some things that can NEVER be said about me in a eulogy... I just want to get them out of the way:

"She was such a quiet girl."
"She never said a bad word about anyone."
"She never raised her voice."


*Slide show of my life and the people I loved for the duration-

Set to the music of "You Are My Sunshine", "Fly Me to the Moon", "Somewhere Beyond the Sea", and as the finale... "Danke Shcoen". No more, no less. If Wayne Newton is still playing Vegas and there is enough money left after getting the elephants, then try and book him as well, he can sing all of those.

Eat and play until you are tired and then go home. Take food and flowers with you.

Being the person in charge of funerals at the moment, this may seem daunting, but it is possible. Please make sure all the tables have tablecloths and that there are fresh flowers. If you can't get elephants just make sure of the tablecloths.

Todd and I have a little insurance, I made sure we would have enough for elephants. Just do your best. I won't be there in person, but I will be there in spirit making sure you all have a good time.

So Telling...

So, Mom and Dad are selling their house and planning to go on a mission soon. They have asked some of the kids to "babysit" some items for them while they are "homeless". Dad and Mom and Chip spent most of Saturday loading a huge U-Haul to bring all this stuff down to Provo and it was 10:30pm before Dad even got to my house to unload.

All day I had promised Dad a nice cold drink and had made a special batch of limeade with pureed strawberries and Pellegrino just for him. Just as we were finishing up with the unloading, I asked Todd to go into the house and put ice in a glass and pour a nice cold glass for Dad. Todd came back with the glass sweating with condensation and Dad said, "Thank you," and took a huge sip and kind of just sat there.

We chatted for a moment, and then Dad said, "Well, I've got to get going..." He took another HUGE gulp, and I offered to put it into a cup he could take with him. He said, "Oh, no.. that's fine. Thank you."

As Dad walked to the truck I looked at the cold glass and since there was so much left I took a big old gulp myself. Instead of tangy-sweet strawberry limeade I got a mouthful of raw tomato juice. Todd had seen the pitcher of red liquid on the counter (drained from tomatoes cut up for salsa that day - so no salt or anything...) and had thought that was the limeade. Poor Dad! And he was too polite to say anything like: "I don't think this is limeade," or "this limeade sucks."

I laughed so hard and then ran to the truck and made sure my dear, sweet, hard-working dad knew that we had not intended to give him a cold glass of tomato juice. He gently said, "I didn't think it tasted right..." He would rather suck it up and drink the gross juice than to offend me in any way even though I could have handled the humiliation. So telling...

I love my Dad!

Dream a Little Dream

"To sleep; perchance to dream..." wrote the bard. I love to dream. Dreaming is the only good reason to sleep. I have been fascinated with dreaming since I was very little and still remember some of my dreams from my childhood (and some of the nightmares which are not dreams... like I said, they are nightmares...).

While I have not come very far in controlling my dreams, I have become good at remembering what I dream. When I am almost asleep (meaning very, very relaxed and letting my mind be "loose") I tell myself "Remember your dream, be conscious of your dream...". It totally works.

From 1995 to 1999 I wrote down my most memorable dreams in a journal. You know how a dream is like a detailed movie sometimes with distinct feelings and emotions? Well when I re-read those dreams I am taken right back to those feelings and emotions with astonishing clarity. I can see the movie all over again including details that are not necessarily spelled out in the journal, and I can feel the feelings I felt the first time I dreamed it.

One of my most memorable dreams is the "Oh, Joe" dream:

I am standing on a stage in Scotland and I am a missionary. I am wearing thick, darkish nylons and white mary-jane tap shoes. The curtain is closed and I am waiting to dance with the other chorus girls in a performance at the church building in front of a large audience. The problem is: I can't remember the dance because I procrastinated rehearsing and now I have to perform. Yuck. In front of the curtain there is a trio of sister missionaries singing a light ditty to the accompaniment of an old church upright piano. As a diversionary tactic from my inability to remember the dance steps, I know that if I stick my head through the curtains and sing part of the song in a funny voice I will get a big laugh, and who doesn't like a big laugh? So I wait for the part in the song and stick my head out and sing, "Oh, Joe, I love you so, you do so much for me..." Instead of a laugh, I get crickets. I feel the sensation of a deep rush of blood to my face as I withdraw my head. I walk off the stage in disgrace.

I am also really good at dream interpretation.

One thing that has puzzled me through the years is the question of why I dreamed about celebrities for so long. I don't anymore, and I have never followed celebrity gossip, but during my college days people like Julia Roberts, Kurt Cobain, and Robin Williams were frequent guest stars.

These days I wonder why my dreams aren't more... wonderful. I am working on this. I have a lot more responsibility than I used to, now that I am a full-fledged adult, and I am concerned that I can't control my dreams to be more restful and pleasant. Once I am lying on my bed my brain can get out of control, so to reign it in I have an exercise (one that used to be more pleasant than it is now, but it is habit). I imagine that I am walking down my street towards my house and I begin with the exterior and imagine it in its perfect state (with all the features and amenities I could ever desire included... my dream house). There is a white picket fence holding back the roses, and a brick-paved path, and inside, everything is complete and clean. I imagine going through each room and seeing it is a perfect fantasy form. I rarely get past the front living room before I am completely loosed from my conscious moorings and "asleep".

I am glad that I dream. I feel sorry for people who say they don't. Dreaming can be an escape. It is a way for us to work through the day, or a way to work through or problems. It's self-therapy. I know what's going on in my head when I wake up and remember last nights fanciful scenarios. I can correct and move forward.

So go ahead and give yourself permission to dream a good dream. Lay down and think to yourself, "Remember your dream tonight, be conscious in your dream..." and see what you are trying to tell yourself. Sweet dreams...

Viva Las Vegas: Part Deux

OK, this isn't going to be as much interesting as it is a practice in blogging more often.

So, in Vegas...

People at Todd's work like to eat good food, which I fully appreciate. We ate at Stack in the Mirage, Maggiano's at Fashion Show Mall, and Boulud Brasserie at the Wynn. Our meal at he Wynn was my favorite. I don't freak out at expensive food. It is one of the rare pleasures of this world. There is a magical quality to 5 star dining, which is why I was drawn to studying the culinary arts early in my education. As a true woman of leisure, I must attend a proper culinary school at some point... I need to get on that.

Todd's cousin Robbie is in the show "Spamalot" at the Wynn, and it was SO FUN to see him perform. He sings and dances for a LIVING. When I pointed that out to him he said: "I know, and I work like 14 hours a week." A sweet life. Robbie is a talented singer and dancer. He also has very muscular legs which were highlighted nicely in a certain number (he knows which one I mean...). He also gave us the backstage tour of all the costumes and props and amazing wigs that NO ONE is allowed to touch (not even the actors).



This is Todd being calmly bitten by the killer rabbit with the "sharp, pointy teeth". Robbie is helping the rabbit.

This is me holding the naughty, jiggly jello desserts from the "We're knights of the round table..." song.My face looks crazy in this photo, I must have wandered into an unflattering patch of utilitarian lighting.






It was funny to go to a "Broadway show" and have people there drinking beer from giant plastic "grails". We also got to see the actual albatross from the albatross skit. Robbie told us that the stuffed albatross was brought over from the UK for the Python's live performance at the Hollywood Bowl, but that they passed the endangered species act in the meantime and to take that albatross back across the ocean would be a criminal offense. So here it is at the Wynn.















On the last night we were there, HP (who was hosting the event) held a big bash for people who wanted to pay a lot extra, but since we were technically staff... It was held in one of the huge ballrooms and was decorated in a semi-swanky manner. The live performance was by none other than Bob Marley's son, Steve. Yeah, I didn't know about Steve either. But he sang good songs and all the ones you wanted to hear that his dad performed. For those of you who know me (and know me well) you know why I don't dance at dances or clubs. So I was a happy observer of the evenings festivities, and boy was I entertained. People generally don't dance well, add to that the fact that they are systems analysts, programmers, and other nerdly types. Throw into this mix, co-workers, alcohol, and reggae... and you have yourself quite an entertaining party.


Todd ended the evening with the largest shrimp we had ever seen. Everyone was dancing and drinking and ignoring the jumbo-est jumbo shrimp... only in Vegas. All in all, this was a great trip, one of the best. Good food, good accommodations, good shopping, everything I needed a vacation to be. It would only have been enhanced by family and friends, but having Todd all to myself was heaven. We enjoyed our time together, especially before we went to bed each night and we'd snuggle into our robes and gaze out at the artificial world before us. We felt like the King and Queen of... well of us. King Todd and Queen Carrie.

Todd has informed me that he will be going back to the Venetian in November. If anyone would like to join me, the details will be forthcoming...

A Word on Phlebotomists...

Here's what NOT to say to the person drawing your blood:

"My left arm is better than my right, but I do have really small veins so my hand is usually a sure bet."

The phlebotomist hears:

"You can't do your job very well so let me tell you how this is going to go down..."

I can't figure this out. I am just trying to be helpful. Phlebotomists begin to sweat when they see my arms; while I am quite robust, my veins are puny, shy things that hide deep in my flesh... really deep. But throughout the past few weeks, I am beginning to see how the veterans are separated from the neophytes.

After my "I-have-small-veins" speech, the neophytes head straight for the butterfly needle (commonly used to draw blood from an infant's head... it's so small) and disinfect my hand, but the veteran will completely ignore me and tie off my right arm and begin sniffing out the best vessel. If the newbie decides to go for my arm they will draw the needle back and forth and side to side perforating my much abused vein and declare "I just... can't... seem... to get it." The master will poke the needle in way more forcefully than you think necessary, and immediately draw a vial.

Today's blood-letting was miraculous in many ways, but the best part of it was the phlebotomist herself: her name was Rose and she was as big as a house and as loud as a fog horn.

When we arrived at the lab there was a long line. If people are getting blood drawn on a Saturday, you know they HAVE to be there. The waiting room was small, and since Rose is most likely incapable of a whisper, everyone's "malady" was made known.

To the teen-aged girl, "Are you capable of urinating?" (They were still standing in the waiting room.) To us it sounded like: "ARE YOU CAPABLE OF URINATING!!?" After a mortified nod of the head Rose went on: "DO YOU THINK YOU COULD PRODUCE SOME URINE RIGHT NOW!!?" The poor girl went ahead, surprisingly not right there in her pants, and we then heard all the instructions on what to do with the sample and a reminder to wash her hands. The girl was unable to face us in the waiting room and waited for her mom outside.

The young boy before me was with his dad. Obviously, if a kid is getting his blood drawn it can't be that good. What we heard through the wall was: "ARE WE TAKING BETS TO SEE OF YOU'LL CRY!!?" Todd and I were agog and aghast buy this point and I was determined to say as very little to her as possible.

But by the time we got in there and she made a million phone calls on our behalf to make sure everything was going to be done on time, I was a fan of large-and-in-charge Rose. She proved herself to be a pro (a master!) and even managed blood out of my right arm. And then to seal the deal, she drew a smiley face on the tape covering my cotton ball... a smiley face. I am grateful Rose was there today.