Don't envy me, I'm struggling

I don't mean to be the envy of the town but umm...two weeks ago I was privileged enough to see the Pioneer Woman at her book signing. Now, I wish that I could brag to you all that I met PW but there were a few things working against me.
The signing was scheduled to start at 7:00 pm. I figured I'd leave my house at 6:30ish, buy a book at the bookstore hosting her (you know to support the local stores), 7:00 meet PW and say something clever that would make us instant friends, 7:05 I'd be out the door with a signed book, 7:15 sitting in my living room watching the World Series looking through my newly signed book where PW would have written "Dear Haley, I love reading your blog, you are so hilarious. You and your husband should come stay at the ranch. Will you be my best friend? Love, PW."
Easy as pie (by the way, who ever made up that saying has obviously never endeavored on the adventure that is pie making).
Things did not go as planned. Nate suggested I leave before 6:00 (I thought he was crazy, turns out he's a pretty smart guy). He sacrificed watching the beginning of the World Series to come with me. So we arrived at the bookstore, it was empty. Awesome, I'd be back home ahead of schedule. I went to buy a book, I was considering buying a few so I could give them away as gifts. Luckily I went with my instincts and only asked for one at the register. Amazon sells PW's book for about $15.00, I nearly peed my pants right there in public when the price was $30.00. THIRTY STINKING DOLLARS! I paid for my book, swearing under my breath, and turned around looking for PW. I was then told to walk down the street and wait in line because she was first going to speak to people at the little gallery. I walked to the end of the line, I felt like Ralphie in A Christmas Story as he waited for Santa, there were 240 people in front of me. Nate called from where he finally found a spot to park the car. He kindly asked if I wanted him to wait in line. He was hoping I'd say no, I said yes. As he walked down the line to where I stood, mothers pulled their children closer too them. Groups of women avoided eye contact and shifted their purses to their other side. A few ladies even pulled out their mace to be used as self defense. Nate hadn't planned to be seen in public so his 2 week beard growth, his baseball hat on backwards, his shirt that said "I (grenade) NJ" made him look like one scary fella. If I had been smarter we probably could have cut to the front of the line and no one would have said anything because he would have destroyed them with one look.
I was given a ticket so I would know what group I was in when it my turn to meet her. We all squished into the little gallery, waiting and waiting. Nate had left me by this time, he doesn't do crowds.
Finally she walked in, she walked by me. I could have reached my foot out and tripped her if I wanted to (I would never do that). She moved to the front of the gallery where she began talking. I was not meant to hear her words. I was too far in the back. All I heard was the laughter of the people in the front as she told her clever stories.
Around me babies cried because they were tired, children cried because they were bored, husbands cried because they had been dragged to this estrogen consumed place and were missing the World Series.
I began to feel claustrophobia stricken me as people pushed in closer and closer. A million thoughts rushed through my mind "PW is really tall." "I like her hair" "This woman behind me is getting a little close" "Why did this woman cut in front of me?" "I wonder what the score is?" "Maybe I should have borrowed/stole someone's baby because PW loves babies."
I had to leave, I couldn't endure one more moment. So I walked out the door, losing my place. I still had my tickets so I saw two women talking on the sidewalk. I started to walk over to them to offer them my tickets. Right as I was about to open my mouth to speak, I realized that one of the women was PW's mother-in-law. I almost humiliated myself by asking if she wanted a ticket to see her own daughter-in-law. I caught myself, turned, tripped, didn't fall, passed off the tickets to some other ladies and dashed to the car where Nate was listening to the World Series on the radio. We drove home in silence. I clutched my $30.00 book close to me and started to plan the time I would return it then go buy it on Amazon.
PW, sorry we never meant to be. We could have been great together.

Dracula's Masquerade Ball-Logan's 21st Birthday

November 1st was Logan's big 21st b-day. Because she loves karaoke so very much, I was going to take her to a karaoke bar. That would have been great except for the bar part.
So, I thought she might enjoy getting all gussied up and going to a dinner/murder theater. We ended up going to Dracula's Masquerade Ball. Sometimes a girl just needs to dress up, am I right or am I right? I was suffering from the swine flu or maybe the bovine flu. I don't know, I was so sick I didn't care what it was called, I just wanted to be put out of my misery. Anyway, below are pictures of our masquerade.

The birthday girl with the Bride of Frankenstein

Vonda being man-handled by Franky

Logan and Vonda

Showing a little skin.
(No, no boys!)

Bad lighting

Logan and one of Dracula's brides. She's pretty feisty.

Haley and Vonda

Dracula and his Brides

Happy Birthday Logan, love you!

There's no logic to it!

As Nate and I have matured and progressed in our marriage we've found a simple solution that not only gets the dishes washed but also resolves arguments.
We use to argue over who's turn it was to wash the silverware and there was more than one occasion that Nate slept on the couch (his idea, not mine) because of a spat. It makes me laugh (ha ha) to think back on those silly times when we used conventional arguing. Now we settle everything with a friendly/deadly serious game of "Rock, paper, scissors." It's so simple, I would highly recommend it to anyone who can't settle issues with their spouse.
I once heard someone say that if a couple is fighting they should strip down nakey and finish the argument el' naturel . I suppose looking at your spouses white (and maybe dimply) hiney would defuse the situation. That may work fine for some (and end things on a happy note, if you know what I mean...) but for us, that is not an option. I'm all about being nakey, I would run around nakey all the time if I could. In fact, Aramie and I have even discussed starting our own nudist colony. So, I would strip down in two seconds flat. The problem is Nate. You see, Nate, doesn't like being naked. In fact he only gets naked for 2 1/2 reasons. We will not be discussing these reasons at this time. Just know that none of those nakey times include a commando argument.

"Do these sufficiently hide my thunder?"

I have the alarming signs of a chronic gambler because I always challenge Nate to RPS for silly little things. Who has to turn out the light? One, two, three....rock...I lose, dang it! Who has to return the dvd to redbox? 1, 2, 3...rock...I lose, crap! Who has to wash the 2 day old dinner pot? 1, 2, 3...PAPER...I lose, I hate this stupid game! I just can't seem to stop no matter how many times I have to wash dishes (I HATE washing dishes) just that 50/50 chance that I might win just makes me start to sweat with anticipation. "One more time" I tell myself "I can beat this, just one more game and I'll stop." But it never stops. Nate sometimes just takes pity on me and won't even play, at that point you know I'm in a sad state because Nate's lack of compassion is legendary. It's pretty pathetic when a person has to do the dishes 5 nights in a row because she's too dumb to stop the insanity.

Who came up with RPS anyway? It doesn't make any sense. Why would paper win over rock? Scissors cutting paper, yes, that has logic. Rock smashing scissors (my personal favorite), completely understandable. But paper covering rock that's a load of bull if you ask me. It's also my everlasting downfall.

So next time you see me, be kind. Wash my dishes for me and don't tempt me with rock, paper, scissors because I don't think I can handle anymore heartache.

IBS is a pain in my...

Would any of my brilliant blogging BFF's care to finish the title of this post for me? I'll wait...and I promise it is the first thing that came into your naughty little minds.

I guess I haven't spared any details about my life so far, why stop now? Hi, my name is Haley and I have IBS. It's horrible. Now I realize that there are so many other things that are worse and I should really shut my ungrateful mouth and be thankful for my raw, chaffed rear-end, but when I'm running around wal-mart praying that I make it home because I would rather die than sit on a wal-mart toilet (I don't have enough strength in my thighs to hover that long)it's hard to appreciate the worse problems that other people have.

When I married into the Judd family I learned their secret family motto "Wipe until it bleeds, then keep wiping." As I recall, I had to raise my right hand to the square and pledge my obedience to this creed before I could marry Nate. Sometimes I really regret making such a rash decision.

I finally decided that I needed to nip this thing in the bud (or the butt...ha ha, not funny) so I threw aside my pride and went to the doctor. Hello young male doctor, please let me tell you all about my digestive problems and bowel movements.

Our conversation went as follows:
Dr: How are we feeling today?
H: Awesome, that's why I came in. I just want you to see what a healthy person looks like since all you see the whole day is sick people. Would you like to give me a colonoscopy so you can see what a healthy colon looks like?
(That's not what I really said)
H: Doing ok.
Dr: What seems to be the trouble?
H: I can hardly eat anything without getting sick. Crohn's disease runs in my family so I want to check things out.

Blah, blah, more boring questions, blah, blah...answers that I won't share with those of you that are so dear to me, just know it involves words like greasy, floating, and scrum-dittaley-umpshous.

Dr: Well, I don't think you have Crohn's, I think you have IBS (Irritable Bowels Syndrome) caused by stressed. Is there anything stressful going on in your life?
H: (I laugh as I self-consciously stroke my head of gray hair) Yes, there are a few things.
Dr: Have you taken immodium when you've had problems?

This was the one question that actually made sense. No, I hadn't even thought about taking immodium. I figured if my body rejecting this food maybe I better get it out of my system.

H:No I haven't. This has lasted more than a few days and medicine labels always say to consult a doctor if you have constant problems.
Dr: Well, I suggest taking immodium when you feel sick. Also, we'll need a sample.
H: A sample of what...?
Dr: ................(use your imagination, I can't do everything for you).

Haley's eyes get wide and at that moment she decides that she'll get a lifetime supply of immodium and never ......... again. The doctor has yet to receive his sample, he wanted Haley to send it in the mail THE MAIL!!!! Gross!

End of doctors visit. Good news is that I didn't have to experience a colonoscopy.

So anyway, the next day I ate something and felt that familiar rumbling in my stomach. I quickly downed an immodium. The rumbling stopped. Awesome, no sicky sick for me. That was a Tuesday morning. Wednesday passed, but nothing else did...if you get my drift. Thursday, nothing. Friday, starting to feel a little uncomfortable and nervous. I didn't realize immodium was sent by Satan to seal your intestines shut. They didn't write that on the label.

Long story short, all is well in the Judd household. I just avoid ice cream and lettuce. I keep half an immodium pinned inside my undies, just for emergencies. And my little red cheekies are not so red anymore.

Thank you, you wicked, wicked little pill.

The answer to an age old question

Well a Scotsman clad in kilt left a bar on evening fair
And one could tell by how we walked that he drunk more than his share
He fumbled round until he could no longer keep his feet
Then he stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street

About that time two young and lovely girls just happend by
And one says to the other with a twinkle in her eye
See yon sleeping Scotsman so strong and handsome built
I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt

They crept up on that sleeping Scotsman quiet as could be
Lifted up his kilt about an inch so they could see
And there behold, for them to see, beneath his Scottish skirt
Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth

They marveled for a moment, then one said we must be gone
Let's leave a present for our friend, before we move along
As a gift they left a blue silk ribbon, tied into a bow
Around the bonnie star, the Scots kilt did lift and show

Now the Scotsman woke to nature's call and stumbled towards a tree
Behind a bush, he lift his kilt and gawks at what he sees
And in a startled voice he says to what's before his eyes.
O lad I don't know where you been but I see you won first prize
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
O lad I don't know where you been but I see you won first prize

My Recent Love

I have Nate to thank for introducing me what has become one of my new favorite pieces of art.

I don't even know how to put into words the deep feelings in my soul when I look at this sculpture created by Michelangelo. He was truly a master.

Michelangelo's Pieta:
Piety: reverence for God or devout fulfillment of religious obligations.
Pity: sympathetic or kindly sorrow evoked by the suffering, distress, or misfortune of another, often leading one to give relief or aid or to show mercy.

Michelangelo sculpted Mary's face to be young and beautiful because he wanted her to look pure; as she looked when she was first visited by the Angel Gabriel.

The spear wound in Christs' side.

The face of the crucified Christ. At peace and free from the pain of the world.

Have you ever seen anything more sad yet more tender? A mother holding her first child, perhaps thinking about how she use to hold him like this when he was a little baby.

Every time I see the Pieta, it takes my breathe away.

Scary beyond all reason

Have you ever watched Judge Judy? You know, Judge Judy, the T.V. judge who is scary beyond all reason.

I've always had a healthy respect for Judge Judy, well, I suppose respect isn't the correct word. Respect would imply we had some kind of healthy relationship. I'm just plain worried that one day I might be walking down the street of SLC and bump into her. In fact, I'm a little nervous to post anything about her on this blog, I'm half tempted to just delete it and pretend that I never wrote it. If JJ found out about it she would probably reach into my chest and pull out my beating heartIn fact, in the top 5 things that worries the h@ll out of me, Judge Judy would rank up there between driving in snow and spiders in my undies.

I occasionally watch those poor saps who go to her for help and think what fools they are, why would someone purposely go to hell? Just for a few humiliating moments of fame?
Most of my legal knowledge has come from JJ's own scary mouth. For example:
Breaking the windows out of an ex's car and using the defense that "the SOB had it coming to him." Isn't going to hold much water in court, especially in JJ's court.

I didn't think it could get more unnerving than an angry JJ yelling...and those eyes, those eyes that will pierce your very soul and leave you in a stammering confused state of babble and urine.
Nothing more unnerving until I saw the following pictures:

I think she's using some kind of legal mind power to control that baby. Actually, I think that the baby is so scared that it can't even cry. In it's tiny mind it's repenting of all it's little sins and preparing to meet it's maker.

The human mind is an interesting thing. You see, we fear what we don't know. Well, not in my case, I fear heights and know that if I fall off a cliff, I die. That doesn't make me want to go running by any cliffs anytime soon.
But usually if we don't understand something, we are afraid of it. I understand that JJ is a short-tempered/non-sufferer of fools/mean lady. That's doesn't make me tremble any less when I watch her show and she somehow seems to look right into my eyes and tell me that I have done a stupid stupid thing. That means, I expect her to be the way she is.
What really really scares me is when she does the unthinkable...

...and she smiles. Oh, the icy fingers of hell grab my very soul and I shudder, cry and look for a small child to offer to her as her lips curl up and her eyes widen. I'm stricken with a terror that no person should be able to go through.

Awwww!!!
(I just fell off my chair)
Stop the terror, Judy, do it for the children.