I Can’t Adult

I think that damn little hamster in my head needs his legs broken.  I’m not sad, but I’m definitely depressed.  And ashamed.  And scared.

I haven’t showered.  For an amount of time I’m too ashamed to admit.  Actually, I lost count.

I stopped grocery shopping and cooking meals.  At least, on my own anyway.  Honey has to invite me to go shopping with him, and I’m kicking and screaming inside when we go.

I pick up my son from school late because I can’t make myself leave the house.

I’m constantly lonely, and when I get to be with other grownups all I can think of is how uncomfortable it is to be around them.

I’m having a birthday party in two weeks and terrified that nobody will come.

I’m terrified they will.

I’m going to Reno next weekend to be with my sister and nieces.  I’m terrified of that, too.

People say all kinds of nice things to me, they try to lift me up with their words, but I don’t believe them.  It’s not that I think they’re liars, I just know what they say isn’t true.

I can’t live up to those things.

I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you.

Radical Self Respect

In February my OB/GYN’s assistant emailed me that it’s time for a pap screening.  Yippee!  Just the thing all women want to hear.  Except last time I visited my lady doctor, it was a disaster.

God, through some scientists, developed this amazing thing called the Mirena IUD.  Most women use this as birth control, but I like it for an extra special reason.  NO PERIODS!! (Periods are from the devil)  It’s great because it just sits there in your body doing its thing.  You don’t have to remember to take a pill at the same time every day.  Every 5 years you get a new one and you’re good to go!

I really like(d) my gyno.  At first I was a little weirded out because he’s a dude, but he was so kind and professional I just got over it.  At my last appointment (when it was Mirena swapping time) he looked at my chart and with a little distress in his voice mentioned I had gained some weight since my last visit.  Yup, I had.  Not really surprised.  My mom had moved in with us and I was stress eating a lot.  It wasn’t that much though, maybe 10-15 lbs (which ok, on a normal person is a lot but on me you can’t really tell the difference).  He then proceeded with the exam and procedure, which ended up being the most painful thing I’ve experienced, next to drug-free childbirth.  I left feeling vulnerable and humiliated.  I was in so much pain I could barely walk, and by the time I got home was feeling really violated.  Like my friendly doctor had turned into a monster and tortured me for fun.

A lot has happened since the last time I saw the lady doctor.  I know I’ve gained more weight, and in the back of my mind I’m thinking “Hmmm…. how long has it been since my last appt?  I think I have to get that Mirena swapped out again soon… not really looking forward to that.”  It wasn’t even on my radar that I needed a pap screen.   Since I’m turning 40 they’ll finally let me have a mammogram so I know I need to schedule that, but lady doctor visit? Nah.

Until the assistant emailed me in February that it’s time to be violated screened again.

I tried ignoring the email.  I said to myself that it’d be a cold day in hell before I go back to that doctor again.  Plus, all my other screens have been normal so I’m probably fine this time too.  But then, my regular doctor emailed me a month later telling me the same thing.  Time to see the lady doc again!  Dang… these Kaiser doctors are persistent!  I mentally hit the IGNORE button.

Last month I got a recorded message saying “Make a friggin’ appointment why don’tcha??”  Ok, not really, but I did get a recorded message hounding me to come in for the pap screen.  I was starting to feel like someone over there must be really bored if they had all this time to devote to little ol’ me and my cervix!  And then I totally hung up and said “Nopity nope nope.  Not gonna do it.”

Two days ago a live person called.  I felt trapped.  I literally had nowhere to hide and I didn’t want to burden this poor assistant with why I didn’t want to come in.  So I made the appointment, and I’ve been dreading it ever since.

I decided to email Dr. Lady Bits about how I’m feeling.  He really is a good doctor, and I don’t want to go through the hassle of finding a new one.  So I put on my big girl panties and this is what I said:


I’m concerned about my upcoming visit for a pap test. The last time I saw you to have my IUD removed & replaced you commented that I had gained some weight since the last visit. It made me feel very vulnerable & insecure & like you would rather not have me as a patient. Whether it was because of my size making the procedure difficult or because of a subconscious attitude toward me, I left that visit in a lot of physical pain & feeling like I had been violated. I spent the rest of that day & 2 more curled up in bed it was so painful. I’ve known I needed this pap test since your assistant emailed 3 months ago but have been reluctant to schedule it because once again, I have gained weight & fear exposing myself to another traumatic visit. I know it can be difficult & unpleasant to work with someone my size. I feel great shame knowing how repulsed you must be. I’m telling you this because I think you are a good doctor & want you to understand the power of your words. Sincerely, Mrs. Sallygirl


That’s all I had room for.  They only give you 1000 characters.  There was some serious editing, and I had to use the “&” every time I would have just used the word “and”; which makes me feel so… teenaged and twitterspoken.  I wish I could have told him that he took an oath to do no harm, but he harmed me.  The way he treated me prevented me from seeking medical care that could potentially save my life.  I felt angry that because someone saw me as less than human (or at least made me feel that way), that I couldn’t get the medical care that we pay nearly $2k/month for.  I felt angry for myself, for others like me, and for other people who are not treated with dignity and respect (because they are the wrong race, or the wrong gender, or gay, or trans) because of someone’s prejudices.

And then I felt gratitude.

Because, I am surrounded by strong women who every day show me how to be brave and how to have radical self respect.  I took the lessons I learned from them and I applied it to myself.  I spoke up and took control of the situation, and I’m still going in for that blasted appointment.  I hope that when you encounter a situation like mine in your own life that you will remember that no one is better than anyone else and that you are just as worthy of the dignity and respect you give to others.

Rock on, my friends!

A Birthday Wish List

This year, I’m turning 40.  (I can’t believe I just said that.)

I’m planning on having a party, and the thing I want most is to be surrounded by my family and friends.  To be able to hang out with all the people that keep me going, there’s no better gift!  There’ll be a pinata, good food and my favorite mocktail.  Kids will swim in the pool, grownups will play bocce, Ker-Plunk! and Giant Jenga while the music blasts; and maybe there’ll be some dancing under the twinkle lights as the evening winds down.  I’m even boarding the dog so she won’t get on anybody’s nerves!

I don’t expect any gifts, but I know some people won’t be able to help themselves.  It is for them that I created this list:

Things I Will Not Look Horse In The Mouth At:

  • And the Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini (I read his other two books and finally understood what the conflict in the Middle East is about.)  Book
  • Admission to this year’s Sunstone Symposium. I’m dying to attend the Mormon Food Matrix lecture given by the incredible Jerilyn Hassell Pool!  I’m hoping if I touch her apron hem, some of her awesomeness will rub off on me.
  • Bubble Talk.  It’s one of my new favorite games.
  • Cards Against Humanity.  I’d actually love the limited edition Mormanity, but there’s no one around for miles that would appreciate it besides myself.  Though the fundraising campaign is over, I know a guy who knows a gal, and may or may not be able to secure a copy of the game.
  • Torani Cane Sweetner syrup with pump.  I’d like to try my hand at making my sweet sweet iced coffee at home this summer…#Starbucksaddict
  • A pineapple mint plant.  I hear it tastes great in lemonade!
  • Gift cards are always appreciated!  My favorite flavor is AMC, but I also like Home Depot, Target, Sephora, iTunes, World Market and Amazon!
  • California Poppy seed bombs.  They’re one of my favorite flowers!  And Zinnias.  I love those, too.
  • Pioneer Girl: The Annotated Autobiography by Laura Ingalls Wilder.  Good luck finding it, though.  I read that there has been more demand than the publisher has been able to keep up with.  I’d settle for borrowing your copy, just to be able to read it. 
  • A lunch date with Jude Law, Ewan McGregor, RDJ, or Thor.  No, not Chris Hemsworth, THOR.
  • A complete and total reboot of the Divergent series of films with a brand new and more appropriately paired cast.
  • A gift certificate for somebody that’s not me to come paint my interior.  I’ll supply the paint!
  • Branch shears.  I’m tired of the backyard neighbor’s tree shedding into our pool!
  • Table Topics! I’m a pretty good conversationalist, but sometimes my brain hurts and I need someone else to do the work.
  • SIMON Carabiner.  For badassery on the go!
  • Aaaaand this set of Glassware.  Because, Nojitos!  And pineapple lemonade!  Aguas frescas!


You’re all invited.  I hope you make it!  It’s gonna be fun. :D

To Whom It Concerns, Spring 2015

And now, another edition of “To Whom It Concerns”.


Dear TP Companies,

If 12 Mega Rolls = 48 Regular Rolls, am I supposed to believe that there are only 10 squares of TP on a regular roll?  Today’s Mega Roll looks like yesterday’s Double Roll.


I’ve Known Since It Started With the Diaper Packs




Dear USPS,

By and large it takes 1, maybe 2 days to send in-state mail.  Why come did my mail sit at Santa Clarita for 16 hours?  And then Sacramento for 24+?  It shouldn’t take 5+ days for a small padded envelope from Reseda to reach Me.

Yours Truly,

I Wants It NOW, Precious!




Dear Amazon Sellers,

If you’re willing to sell your book for $0.01, why not just donate it?  That seems like a waste of resources.  Maybe you are able to ship it for less than the $3.99 allowance?  Even still, it’s so insignificant a profit you should still consider donation.


One Who (albeit, Marginally) Cares About Conservation




Dear Amazon Prime & Netflix,

Why no love for Chicago Hope?  Is one of the cast members a punk holdout demanding more royalties than they’re worth?  Shoot, it’s not even available on DVD!  Or do you have some sick deal with iTunes?  Lemme go check….  Nope.  Not on iTunes, either.  Tell Mandy, Aaron, and Christine their public awaits!

Anxiously Awaiting,

A Serial Binge-Watcher




Dear Hugh Laurie,

I’m re-binge-watching House, MD.  The first time I watched, I didn’t know you were British.  Many moons later (now that I do), I find myself watching your mouth and looking for places where you almost lose the American accent.  I keep wanting to hear you blast somebody in the same voice I heard on Sense & Sensibility.  Bravo, Sir.


Accent Lover Anonymous




Dear Guy Ritchie,

RDJ is HAWT.  And getting old.  He still has to be Iron Man in Cap 3.  You best hurry up and make Sherlock 3 before he hurts himself (a tragic day for us all, to be sure).

Urgently Yours,

Attracted to Badasses

p.s.  I KNEW Irene didn’t die!!!




Dear Netflix,

I am quite enjoying my free 1 month trial that you’re using to lure me back.  It might work, if you can stop logging my device out every time I turn it off.  I know you said my device needs a software update, except I checked and there aren’t any.

Tick Tock,

The Impatient Clock




Dear California Poppies Growing In The Corner of My Front Flower Bed,

MULTIPLY AND REPLENISH FASTER.  The weeds are winning!


The Rainmaker

Good People Are Everywhere You Look

You guys!  You guys!!  YOU GUYS!!!

The most AMAZING thing just happened for me!  But first, just because I like to drag it out, let me give you some back story:

I love my family.  I love them a whole lot.  I’m not too sure how they feel about me, but that’s ok.  I especially loved my Grandpa C.  He meant the world to me, and even though I said my goodbyes to him each time we parted (as I was sure it was always the last time due to his age and health), it still devastated me when he died.

Grandma & Grandpa C lived in a sweet little craftsman bungalow house in a darling little town near Pasadena.  A little more than a block from the library park and bustling main street, there was always something fun to do when we visited.  In their ginormous (by California standards) back yard there was a lemon tree from which the best lemonade is made.  Not quite a year after Grandpa C passed away, Honey and I were married.  We had a beautiful reception in the back yard of my childhood home.  Grandma C was not up for traveling and it was hard for me to know that two of my favorite people couldn’t be there to share in celebrating our joy.  That didn’t mean they couldn’t be there in spirit though, and the way I chose to involve them in the production was by having my mom travel from our home in suburban Sandy, UT to theirs in sunny southern CA to process those lovely lemons into juice for lemonade to be served at the reception.

In 2006 Grandma C was no longer able to live on her own.  Uncle Dick and some of the family packed her up, sold the house, and moved her up north to be near him.  Being so young and unestablished, we couldn’t afford to buy the house ourselves (something I still hope to do one day), and the loss of the family house still weighs on me.  So many Christmases spent in the glow of the C7 lights and tinsel strung on the tree decorated with vintage ornaments, so many summers playing with the toys tucked away in the attic…

In the front of the house, and along one side of the back yard are these beautiful, hot pink camellia shrubs.  When I was a child I loved to pick the fat, round buds and peel them layer by layer.

Instead of a regular garage, Grandma & Grandpa had a big, rickety barn.  That barn was so full of grandpa’s junk… we used to joke that when they died, instead of packing up and junking the majority of what was inside, we’d blow it up as the most efficient means of getting rid of the contents.  Underneath the house was a semi-upright crawl space.  I never would go down in there because I was convinced it was so full of spiders and snakes that I’d die from some kind of bite in the dark.  To the side of the yard was a small shed visible from the front, and behind it were permanent clothesline posts.  Grandpa made a swing of sorts out of a small log and a length of rope.  He’d attach it to the posts and swing us all afternoon.  He also rigged up a horse made out of a barrel and scrap wood with an old rag rug for a saddle.  It was parked under that lemon tree and we’d ride like the wind in our imaginations!

In the front on the side, there was this gnarly tree of undetermined species.  All I remember is that it had a branch that was curved and shaped like a nest, making it a favorite spot for photos of the littlest family members.

cropped-sisters2.jpg(Can you guess which one is me?)

This year I’m turning 40.  That’s right, the big 4-0.  Unlike my hubby (who is also turning 40, this week in fact!), I plan on having a huge party.  There isn’t much that fills me with joy more than being surrounded by my family and friends, celebrating the life we share together; and I intend to do just that.  We’ll have a piñata, music, kids swimming in the pool and grownups playing with the giant Jenga and Ker Plunk! games that B and I are going to build (from Pinterest, of course!), eat my favorite foods and a delicious cake that I will not be baking myself.

Can you guess what we’ll be drinking?

Last week I wrote a note to the current owners of the house.  When I told Honey what I wanted to do he said I was crazy.  I thought of what I could say that would convey to them that I’m not some crackpot; I don’t want to invade their privacy or go inside the house to case the joint, and I’m certainly not the Craigslist killer.  I just miss my grandma and grandpa.  I miss her sour face and his silly jokes.  I miss stealing Brach’s butterscotch candies out of the crystal dish in the living room while grandma napped and singing the Johnny Appleseed song before meals.  I miss the piano in the front parlor (that as far as I know, nobody ever played), and the cool seafoam tiles in the dark, tiny bathroom.  I even miss the ancient stove in the kitchen and doing laundry on the back porch.

I miss that house and all the happy memories that were made there; and even though I still hope and dream to one day be able to buy the house back and live my golden years hauling toys down from the attic via the closet entry and making lemonade from the back yard tree for my own future grandchildren, I know it will probably never happen.  But lucky for me, a kind and generous family live in that house now.  They received my note and called me earlier this evening to let me know that I’m welcome any time to come down and pick lemons from the tree.

I can’t wait!


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