Utah » Dirty Dishes

How Spring Sprung and Blogging Fell By the Wayside

May 032007

Excuses, excuses…I know. Lemme think of a good one here…..blargh! I got nothin! And that pretty much aptly describes the state of my lil brainsky lately…Nothin. No spark, no fire, no ideas. Nothin.

However, I will say that the weather in good ole SLC has been beautiful of late and I have been spending lots of time outside watching Tony take care of the lawn. Oh, and we pulled out this old dead tree in our back yard and planted a new one. The old one died a couple of years ago because at that time we didn’t really know that, guess what? Trees planted in the desert need to be watered! And watered a lot. So the poor thing shriveled up and died of thirst. But we won’t make that same mistake twice, no Sir! This new tree is getting all the water we’ve got, and if it dies I’m gonna know that Utah has beaten me, and beaten me good.

A week or so ago I came across this picture posted by Heather of a beautiful view of the Wasatch mountain range, similar to the view I get to see every day (I know, I’m lucky). Someone made the comment that it looked like us stupid Utahans had pulled out all the trees and replaced them with houses. That was like the funniest thing I’d ever read ( yes I’m easily amused). Because I moved here from Missouri, where there are A LOT of trees. Trees that just grow by themselves, can you believe it? And after I moved here, I kept telling Chris that this place sucked because NO TREES. And he kept saying “There are trees here silly!” But the thing is, are you listening stupid commenter that said we are pulling out trees?, THERE IS NOT ONE TREE IN ALL OF THIS VALLEY THAT WASN’T PLANTED AND EXCESSIVELY WATERED BY SOMEBODY. No one is randomly pulling out trees to build nice suburban houses and shopping malls. We are all fighting tooth and nail to keep these trees happy and alive. And these trees, every one I’ve ever seen here, they all look like they would really rather be living somewhere else. Sometimes I agree with them. But I have to say most of the time I’m glad that this place, where nature is rugged and beautiful and fragile all at the same time, this place is my home.

I don’t believe in God, I believe in science

Daily, Mormonism, Utah 2 Responses »

Nov 012006

Last weekend we purchased the movie Nacho Libre on DVD. And I was totally flipping excited to watch it, since I missed it in the theaters just like I’ve missed nearly every movie in the theater since about mid year 1998. Having children dramatically effects your theater going ability. Dramatically people. Although this is Utah and people just take their kids to the movies anyway. For some reason parents here in the land of Deseret didn’t get instructed on social etiquette, because they feel it is perfectly acceptable to take their very small children with them ANYWHERE THEY GO. There is nothing like watching Gollum bite Frodo’s finger off while a one year old squeals from the seat behind you. The only thing close to being like it is watching Gollum bite Frodo’s finger off and having your four year old ask you to rewind it so he can watch it again from his seat next to you on the couch.

So I was excited to watch the movie, and I wasn’t disappointed. It was cute and funny and off the wall. But my favorite part was when Nacho asks his friend Steven if he is going to pray to God for help wrestling, and Steven answers “I don’t believe in God, I believe in science.” I totally didn’t expect it, but it Made. My. Weekend.

What made my Wednesday was when I was reading some news on msnbc.com. There were two articles, one about coffee and the other about red wine, and both affirmed and strengthened my belief in my religion (science), instead of a belief in, lets say, a religion with a crazy fabricated food law.

Lunch, Utah style

Mormonism, Shumpy, Utah 2 Responses »

Oct 192006

A few weeks ago, my one and only Utah friend invited me to a lunch she was having for her birthday. And although she is my only Utah friend, I am most certainly not her only Utah friend so there were going to be about 8 other people there. I am going to call her Lisa, because while that is not her name I think it has a nice ring to it. And let me say that while my friend Lisa is Mormon, her level of Mormoness is largely influenced by whomevers company she is presently enjoying. That is to say, when no Mormons are around she can party like a drunken sorority sister on the rebound during rush week. But put a few other Mormons in the mix, and she is the picture of the Molly Mormon Happy Valley Homemaker. Sadly this is how most Mormons are. I don’t know if any of you have heard the old joke: When you take a Mormon fishing how do you keep them from drinking all your beer? Take two Mormons. I wasn’t too worried about the lunch though, because who would go down the path of righteousness when they had the chance to go down the path that rocks?

Anyway, I was pretty excited about having an afternoon with other adults eating good food possibly drinking a little wine and maybe, as ladies often do when they over-imbibe at a luncheon much to their embarrassment the next day, find out who goes down and who prefers the backdoor action. Not that I actually care about other peoples sexual preferences, it’s just that I find drunken sex talk funny. When other people do it. Naturally, with my expectations being built up so high, the only place left to go was down. Down, down, down to the bitter depths of despair. And that’s where I went.

I arrived at the restaurant a little bit late, so I sat down and Lisa introduced me to everyone. There were a couple of neighbors, a couple coworkers, a sister-in-law, and another random friend. Some of these people I knew, some I didn’t. The waiter came over to take my drink order so I scanned the table to see what kind of poison everyone else was taking. This was my first mistake. There was nothing stronger than diet Coke at that table. I was in trouble and I knew it then. This was a Mormon party. I ordered an iced tea, because I enjoy iced tea and also to be a little snotty. Mormons hate iced tea. I might as well have said I’m a Lesbian Alcoholic Democrat when I ordered iced tea. It’s the same thing.

Because I was a little late, they were already deeply engaged in conversation and I couldn’t follow it all. It was something about Who Knows What and You Know Who and I Could Care Less. What I did notice about this conversation was that it was littered with very specific Mormon words and phrases, like Relief Society, Young Women’s, and Sacrament Meeting. Words and phrases that I didn’t think should be used during a party of mixed company when there is a chance that somebody there is not Mormon and might not know what the hell you are talking about. But of course this is Utah so the natural assumption is that everybody knows. And truthfully? Everyone probably did. I found this pretty discouraging. But of the few people I knew at the party, although they were raised in the church, I knew they didn’t go to church anymore and they weren’t involved with it in any way, were they? That’s when I discovered all those people had actually gone back because they now had children. I find it somewhat odd that they didn’t enjoy the church enough to keep going when they became adults, but they feel their kids should go now that they are parents. It’s like they just don’t have any idea how to raise children so they are falling back on a repressive religious system to do that raising for them. That or they just want their kids to be in the club. Well that club sucks people! And frankly I found this down right depressing.

Sometimes I worry that I write too much about my negative feelings for Mormons on this website. I mean, the Mormons shouldn’t take this personally because believe you me I have an equal disdain for all religions. It just so happens that I was raised by Mormons and I am currently surrounded by Mormons, so that gives me a lot of ammunition. Right now I bet there are about 12 Mormon church buildings within a 5 mile radius of my house, with about 1000 people attending each building every Sunday. That’s 12,000 stupid people that I see at the store, or at my kids school, or that I just drive by around my neighborhood EVERY SINGLE DAY. I don’t know that pervasive is even the right word to begin to describe it.

Has anyone outside of Utah ever been terrorized this way?

Daily, Shumpy, Utah 2 Responses »

Oct 122006

It happens every year without fail…except for the first couple of years we lived here which I think was a not so subtle ‘Fuck You’ to the non-Mormons in the neighborhood, so I suppose we have now been accepted in to their society a visit from the Home Teachers is surely soon to follow…so I should more accurately say that every year for the last three years we get this note along with a store bought goody placed on our doorstep with the expectation that will will in turn deliver it to two more homes WITH TREATS!!! people, with treats.

God I hate my neighborhood.

Lucky for me Mormons aren’t allowed to use the Internet, especially the ones in my neighborhood, or in the grand tradition of their Lord and Savior, I’d be getting a burning pile of shit on my door step instead.

It seems very fitting…

Shumpy, Utah No Responses »

Jul 302006

..that I live in the lamest State in the U.S.

I Hope They Call Me On A Mission, or maybe I’ll apostatise instead

Chris, Mormonism, Utah 4 Responses »

May 112006

One day last week after Leo was done with his morning kindergarten session his best friend invited him over to play. I happily drove him to his friends house, and then drunk on the prospect of getting some shopping done with only one child in tow, I headed off to the store. Half way there I realized that I had forgotten to bring my purse because I was obviously a little too drunk. I turned around and went back home to get it, and that’s when my day of one child drunken shopping took a turn for the worse.

As I pulled into my driveway, I could see the backs of two people standing at the front door ringing the doorbell over and over. Because of angles and blindspots and drunkenness I was unable to identify these two figures, because believe you me had I identified these two people I would have pulled right out of my driveway and speed away, purse and shopping be damned! Instead I got out of the car and walked around to the front door, with the intention of telling who ever it was to go away because I had shopping to do with only one child and it couldn’t wait.
That’s when I was greeted by two pimply faced representatives for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

They immediately began to interrogate me.

Are you LDS?
Technically.
Do you go to church?
No. (I’m pretty sure they knew that answer)
Why not?
I don’t want to.
Do you have a testimony of the Gospel?
No.
But do you believe Joseph Smith was a true prophet of God?
No.
Oh, okay. We’d like to come back later and talk to your whole family about this, can we do that?
No.
If we give you a scripture to read would you promise to read it?
No.

They handed me a card with a picture of Jesus on one side and a scripture written on the other. I took the card and resisted the urge to tell them to fuck off!!, because, guess what assholes?, I’ve read that scripture at least 20 times, and it’s bullshit! Really, my urge to tell them off!!, it wasn’t that much of an urge because my belief in karma and humanity won’t really allow me to tell them off. That, and the fact that I’m a wuss.

For those of you who are blissfully unaware, there is a song with a similar title to that of my post used to indoctrinate young Mormon children from the time they begin to speak. I could sing it for you now, by heart, along with many other songs with themes ranging from the historical accuracy of the Book of Mormon to how the pioneer children had the most AWESOME time in the world walking from Missouri to Salt Lake City. And don’t even get me started on how Saturday is the most special day cuz it’s THE DAY WE GET READY FOR SUNDAY! Yes, it’s true people. The Mormons are trying to teach young children that their ENTIRE weekend should be devoted to church. What a fucking rip off.

I guess my main point here is I felt sorry for those kids, those fresh and pimply little missionaries, because I knew where they were coming from. It’s not really their fault, they just probably grew up singing the songs, you know?My brother served a 2 year full-time mission, and my nephew is currently serving his 2 years in a distant foreign country so karmicly speaking I couldn’t be mean to those kids because they are my brother and my nephew. And really I don’t think I need to be contributing to more negativity in the world. That and I’m a total wuss.

But then Chirs did this to their little card, and I have to admit it made me feel just a little bit better about the spoilage of my day, my inability to tell people off, about being raised Mormon, and just about life in general.

How To Blow Up Your Life, part 1

Shumpy, Utah 1 Response »

Feb 232006

Two weeks ago I was laying in my bed watching the local evening news, taking in all the gruesome details of peoples lives gone wrong, as is my nightly ritual. Little did I know that one of the stories was about to hit very close to home. I wasn’t really prepared to have Bob Evans tell me, in his most horrified and shame-on-you voice, that my old friend and neighbor (who I wrote about here) had just had charges filed against her for felony forcible sexual abuse. She was a teacher at a local high school, and had been caught having an affair with one of her 16 year old students. She was fired from her job, and was now facing 1-15 years in prison. My mind went numb.

You see, when she lived by me, and we saw each other every day, I would have sworn on a stack of Holy Bibles a mile high that she was one of the most normal, average people I knew. I knew she had problems with her husband from time to time (who doesn’t?), and I knew she had lots of problems with her husbands family(nothing new!), and I knew at times she was unhappy in her life (who isn’t?), and that she struggled to parent two young children(hello? sound familiar to anyone?). What I don’t know is how she got to the point of feeling so helpless in her life that she made a choice that would absolutely force a change.

I believe that this is what happens to so many people. They feel so unhappy and powerless to change their world, that they make choices that are effectively like dropping a 10-kiloton atomic bomb in the middle of their life. I guess they do this in the hope that they can rise up out of that rubble, dust themselves off, and go on to find happiness somewhere else. After they get out of prison, or what ever.

And I guess I have been so shaken by this because I have been forced to wonder if this could have happened to me? I am so ashamed to admit this, but I have been totally guilty of being a passenger in about 95% of my life. And it’s possible I’ve heard the Enola Gay doing fly by’s over my house once or twice. It’s a scary thing. A big scary thing that I don’t have a lot of answers for. But I do know that I want to be a driver in my life. I don’t want the Manhattan Project cooking out in my garage to make my choices for me. I want to make my life happen, and not just let it happen to me. And I don’t ever want to end up on the 10 o’clock news.

It’s as close as you can get to the sin of gambling in Utah

Shumpy, Utah 1 Response »

Jan 202006

Once upon a time I had a next door neighbor that was just about my age. Unfortunately that time has past, and all the neighbors on my street that were anywhere close to my age have been replaced with neighbors that have white hair, grandkids, and collect social security. My old neighbor though, she was pretty cool. She had a couple of little kids, a husband that played golf way too much, and a lifetime full of amazing stories. So in other words, she was just like me only replace golf with computers. We were destined to be friends.

One day she called me up and asked if I’d ever heard of the game Bunco, because her group was playing at her house that night and they needed a substitute. I was familiar with the game, having played it once during a visit with my best friend from high school. Unfortunately I didn’t remember anything about how to actually play the game because I had gotten fantastically drunk that night. So fantastically drunk, that toward the end of the game I was no longer playing, just yelling loudly about my personal sexual preferences in between trips to the bathroom to vomit. So of course I jumped at the opportunity to play with my neighbors group.

The group she played with had a slightly different dynamic than my previous experience. It wasn’t so much her group, as it was her Mother-in-Law’s group, made up of a bunch of ladies that she worked with. I think the median age of the group was 57. Still, I thought it was a fun night away from my kids and husband. I got a free dinner, and adult conversation, and for $15 the possibility of winning one of 6 prizes. It was totally worth it.

Substituting one time turned into two times, then three, and eventually a permanent position in the group was offered to me, which I gladly accepted. I had come to enjoy listening to their stories about their grandkids, or the cruise they just took, or getting eyebrows tattooed on their face. And I won prizes from time to time, though they were mostly really ugly nicknacks. For example, I won a candy dish three months in a row. And even though that’s at least two more candy dishes than anyone could possibly need, I’ll be damned if I didn’t enjoy winning them.

Then out of the blue one day my neighbor called and said she was quitting the group. She had gotten in a huge fight with her mother-in-law, and they weren’t speaking to each other anymore. And, of course it was up to me but she thought I would probably want to quit the group as well. So I quit.

A few months later my neighbor called me…again. She said she had joined a bunco group…again, this time with all young, hip girls like ourselves. And… again she asked if I wanted to sub. I agreed to go, but with mixed emotions. I mean, I didn’t really want to have to break-up with another bunco group the next time my neighbor got in an argument. Plus, I found the idea of young and hip Utah girls a little suspect. And rightly so.

I can’t remember a time where I felt more awkward and outcast than I did at the hip bunco group. (There are however SO many times in my life that I have felt JUST as awkward and outcast that they cannot be counted). While all these girls were about my age I had nothing in common with them, for example: 1) my hair is not blonde, bleached or otherwise, 2) I know nothing about scrapbooking, 3) I have not had a boob job, 4) my idea of a perfect Sunday is laying on my ass at home, NOT in a church worshiping Joseph Smith, and 5) I actually have a personality. And to top it all off these girls were really really not nice and just plain unfriendly. Seriously, I can’t hang with that shit.

So when, surprise surprise, my neighbor asked me to sub for that group again, I said no, and THANK GOD she never asked again. My fabulous life as a bunco player was over. All the camaraderie and friendships finished. Oh well, easy come easy go.