A Girls Night Out with Tim McGraw

The Guy’s dad was kind enough to buy all the girls in The Guy’s family tickets to Tim McGraw. Apparently, Tim kind of gets the ladies all hot and bothered so guys typically don’t want to be around. Just ask my brother, Ben. Hilary, along with her converted sidekick Allison, loves Tim McGraw. And I mean loves – to the point where her salivary glands can’t keep up production fast enough.

I met up with Karen (The Guy’s stepmom), Stacey (sister), Amy (sister), Tara (sister), Trista (friend of sister), Melissa (sister), Shane (brother) and his wife, Angie. We all jumped into Karen’s Expedition and headed over early to get a great seat on the lawn. Since we had some time to kill (and sweltering heat to avoid), we played cards, ate smuggled in candy, and teased Shane about coming out with us on Girls Night Out. And we also drank expensive water. I just love how I pay almost $4 for a bottle of water that comes from a package of 24 selling for $4 at the grocery store. And to top it all off, what is this ridiculous rule about taking the cap off of bottled drinks? So now not only do I have to shell out four times what the water is worth, I have to guard it with my life so as not to spill a precious, pricey drop because I’m not “adult enough” to handle keeping a lid on my drink. Thanks, drunk people. ‘Preciate ya taking away the convenience of lids. Sheesh. Anyway, Hilary and Allison asked me to save them a bit o’ space on the lawn, too, and I did because I sure didn’t want to miss seeing Hilary going crazy over T McG.

(Shane, Angie, Tara, Karen, Stacey, Amy, Moi, Melissa, Trista)

All of us girls – 10 in total – got a kick out of people watching during the cowboy love fest. Girls in teeny, tiny shorts, men in sleeveless shirts, old ladies with fake boobs galore, and many more entertaining side acts to follow. Such as the three girls next to us that were dirty dancing away in tiny shorts that exposed too much of their not-so-hot bodies. All that was missing was the pole. Then there were the naked cowboys. Well, okay, so they weren’t entirely naked – they had shirts on. Just joking! The shirts were off, the pants were on. But like most people who wandered aimlessly around at the concert, they were quite inebriated.

Then there was F Girl. She was a girl who liked to use a particular word that starts with F. In fact, I think her entire vocabulary consisted of maybe 25 words because it’s hard to really express yourself when every other word you use is F. And it seriously annoyed all the people around her. She finally got tired of the subtle and not so subtle harassment of other concert goers telling her to “shut her big, fat trap”. She grabbed her blanket, promptly shared a few more F’s with the crowd and said “I’m out of here.” You should’ve heard the applause and cheering.

Halfway to Hazard and Jason Aldean opened the concert and they did a pretty decent job. I couldn’t tell you a single song they sang as I had no idea who they were being that I’m not a huge country fan. I do know a few Tim songs and when offered a free concert, I am never one to refuse. Once Tim took the stage, well, I was hooked. He is an incredible performer and knows how to play to the crowd. Although I’m not as smitten as say my sister-in-law or youngest sis are with him, I did really enjoy his ability to entertain…and that sleeveless shirt. Hmmm…so nice.

(Moi, Hilary, Allison)

The first birthday celebration of one Logan H

Thursday night was the birthday party of my cute little nephew, one Logan H. He is seriously the cutest, chubbiest, happiest little Buddha you ever did see. I love his little cheeks to death. We had a great time with the Campbells, my family, Natalie and Ryan’s friends Lonny and Molly and their darling new baby boy, Bodee. Such a good time we had at the North Canyon Park – complete with sugar rush compliments of cake, ice cream, and pinata. Ole!

 

An old married lady…

…is NOT what Amy is (yet). But we threw her a party last night to celebrate the fact that she will be one in the coming years thanks to her wedding this Friday. She is marrying Mark who seems like a gentle giant (how come my cousins keep taking all the tall guys?) and treats Amy like she has always deserved to be treated. Congratulations, Amy!

I love my cousins on the Taylor side so much – we are a close bunch and enjoy each other’s company. We laugh, we joke, we share stories, we cry…from laughing so hard. April and I decided that we need to gather ourselves more often because we’re just such fun people. And since she has a new fire pit in her backyard, we’re thinking it’s the perfect setting for a marshmallow roast! Stay tuned, all you cousins out there…

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They feel like buttah

It’s so easy to put a smile on my face when I get something like this delivered to my door.

  

Gotta love me some new shoes for summer. And yellow is so cheerfully optimistic and July-ish. Plus they’re flats which mean I won’t be taller than The Guy when we go out. Sweet.

If you would like a pair yourself, go here and wait for that lovely limey box to be dropped at your front door.

If I only had $80M

I know, it’s a paltry sum these days, $80 million dollars. But it’s what one of my most favorite paintings in the world sold for recently. When I was 19, I did a study abroad in Paris, France all about art and architecture. I was in heaven. Except for those pushy street artists in the Montmartre district who tried to accost me, it was near perfection. I visited museum after museum (coulda spent weeks in the Louvre), studied chapel after chapel, and came home absolutely smitten with the history/culture of the country.

The highlight of my art tour was seeing – hmmm, no, a better word would be experiencing - Monet’s Water Lilies. I sat in an oblong room with round ottomans scattered throughout staring at walls that were covered with panels of these incredible works of art. Some people aren’t big Impressionist fans. I get it, believe me. It looks a little splotchy when you’re up close. But if you even knew how pure genius it is to place swallows of color on a canvas so that when you step back it becomes this image you never saw coming…sigh…well, you’d understand just how amazing that is.

I have to say that I was appalled that one of Monet’s smaller versions of the Water Lilies sold today without me being notified. Hello? Could someone have picked up the phone to call me? Christie’s? Sotheby’s? I promise a 200 year payment plan could work – it would be an investment for my children’s children’s children’s children’s grandchildren. I’m pretty darn sure of it. I just would love to see it hanging on my wall right now.

But speaking of high prices for art, are they insane? Eighty million dollars for a painting. How can you justify an expense like that? And somebody just has a cool $80M hanging around to spend on one painting. Why can’t I meet that guy and date him? I’m just saying…

The Interview, Part II

It’s been awhile since I posted my first “interview” with The Guy and I figured the questions surrounding “where we’re going” have only increased in number since that time. Just so you know, The Guy does know I have a blog, and I think he reads it from time to time.

Moi: So I’m just curious – are you fabulously entertained by my random musings on my blog? Or does it make you scratch your head and wonder, ‘Hmmmm, do I really want to be dating this girl?’

The Guy: You know I get a kick out of your blog. I’m always amazed at the way your mind works.

Moi: Meaning…?

The Guy: Your mind never stops! It’s always going, going, going. If I had to think of something to write on a blog every day, I think I’d go crazy. But for you it’s always think, think, think. I can always tell when you’re thinking about a lot of things or something is really on your mind because you tap your lips with your two fingers.

Moi: No, I don’t.

The Guy: Oh yes, you do. But it’s cute. It’s uniquely Angie.

Moi: Yeah, well, enough about me. Let’s talk more about you. I share enough about the inner workings of my mind on this craziness I call a blog so I’m sure people would be more interested in what you have to say.

The Guy: I don’t like talking about myself. You know that. I’m a very private guy.

Moi: Hmph. Get over it. The three people who read this blog and my family are very interested to know more about you. Mainly why you won’t come to Sunday dinner. Of course, you do remember that you promised to come when my parents’ kitchen remodel was complete. I know you thought you were safe in promising that because it’s been a remodel that has taken three years, eight months, fourteen days, six hours and 52 minutes to complete. But I’m telling you, I hear the cabinets are actually ready. That’s the closest thing I’ve seen to miracle in a long time. And it puts you on the hook.

The Guy: Yeah, I have to admit I thought I was being pretty sneaky promising to come to dinner when the kitchen was done. I thought for sure I’d have until Christmas at least!

Moi: Nope. I think July is looking pretty darn good right now.

The Guy: Well, I guess that Sunday dinner is imminent, then.

Moi: Right-o. Back to more about you…tell everyone three things about you that they wouldn’t know. Or that you’d feel comfortable sharing.

The Guy (grinning like a Cheshire cat): Three things…okay. You mean besides how great I am and that you find me irresistible and I have the overwhelming desire to make you into a faster runner?

Moi (glaring): NO. Definitely not MADE UP information. Try something a bit more real.

The Guy: Well, three things that I like or best describe me…hmmm…I’m a neat freak. You know how I like to keep things organized and clean. Mess just drives me crazy. I’m a huge Cubs fan. I get so caught up in the games that I really like to watch them alone. It’s intense for me, it really is. And probably the last thing would be that I love to ride my bikes. Especially my mountain bike down Payson Canyon. It’s down and dirty stuff, let me tell you.

Moi: Which is why you don’t want me to come – it’s Guy Time, right?

The Guy: Well, if I thought you could handle it…

Moi: Watch it, bub. You’re treading on thin ice, here.

The Guy: Maybe you could handle it, but I’d rather just keep it a Guy Thing…if you don’t mind. Sometimes a guy just needs to get away and be alone, you know? It’s tough to be a guy.

Moi (arms crossed, fixed glare): Oh really? I had NO idea that being a guy was so strenuous on you men. I mean, you do have the babies. Oh wait, no, that’s women. It must be the huge hormonal shifts you have to deal with that is so hard. Oh, just kidding, that’s women too. Maybe it’s the pressure to be thin, to be a perfect wife, a good mother, make fabulous meals, volunteer at your child’s school, visit with the neighbors, feed the sick, clothe the naked…okay, I’m getting a little carried away – but you get my point, right?

The Guy (laughing and offering up a big hug): That’s why I adore you. You never let my jabs go by you; you just have to say something! It’s why I enjoy talking to you so much. And because you are so animated when speaking; you make the funniest faces that I just love.

Moi: Well, I guess I’ll keep you around a bit longer then. As long as we both find each other amusing, why ruin a good thing?

In one ear and out the mother

Do you ever find yourself wondering if your child has gone deaf? If the ability to reason and understand language has become an unusable part of their brain? You start to wonder if maybe they picked up some rheumatic fever somewhere that has damaged them mentally for life. Or maybe a bat to the head, like my son experienced last week.

Today I asked Caden to go around the house and make sure there weren’t any cups or plates or silverware hiding that needed to be in the dishwasher. He came back after two minutes with one cup.

“Are you sure you looked everywhere? And that there are no more cups lying about?”

“Yep, I’m sure.”

Five minutes after I started the dishwasher I sat down on my sofa to keep working away on my laptop. I looked down beside the couch and there it was – a cup. Hmmm, gee, I thought he had looked everywhere for stray cups.

“Caden! There’s a cup by the side of the couch! Pick it up and go put it in the dishwasher now.”

He walks over, looks at it and gets the typical kid face pout on his lips that I’ve seen one too many times.

“But Mom! It’s not mine!”

“That’s not what I asked you to do, go find only the cups you used now, did I? I said pick up ALL cups!”

Let me pause here concerning his little “It’s not mine!” retort. If I had a nickel – heck, with gas prices better make it a dime – for every time I have heard him exclaim “But it’s not mine!” “I don’t know!” or the classic “I didn’t do it!”, I would be a wealthy woman. Or at least moderately comfortable. The funny thing is, he hasn’t quite figured out that two out of three phrases mentioned above are typically useless for him to use because he is an only child. Nine times out of ten, it’s his (sometimes, yes, it is mine – like the cup). Ten times out of ten, he most definitely did it.

Growing up, I had the somewhat advantage of being the oldest of five kids. There were lots of fun things I could blame on my siblings because they were younger and not quite as crafty at me at learning the Blame Game. “I don’t know who left the peanut butter out but Katie likes it the best so it was probably her.” “She did it/He did it” were easy things to say. However, I said somewhat advantage because being the oldest, I also got blamed for things like “Why didn’t you stop your younger brother/sister from doing that?” My response? “I don’t know” or “I didn’t do it!”

Caden still has so much to learn about coming up with a good defense when he’s in the hot seat. That sounds like I’m encouraging him to figure out a way to wiggle out of consequences, and I’m most definitely NOT doing that. But I sometimes have to scratch my head when he tries the “I didn’t do it” route because I look around with my arms in the air and say, “Well who did? Did some vagrant child wander into our home and cause this mess/cut your hair/break my iPod/put stickers all over the door?”

Caden’s reply? “What’s a vagrant child?”

Sigh…

Beat the heat…somewhere else

I just have to say this about Vegas: it’s too blasted HOT! Especially in June. And I wouldn’t even dream of spending time down there in July. I spent the past couple of days down there with The Guy and all I have to say is I was dying to come back home to 90 degree weather.

Sadly, I completely forgot to take any pictures while I was down there. Not a single one. I did have some very interesting adventures/mishaps that occurred however. First off, the plane was delayed leaving Salt Lake. Not entirely unusual but when you are supposed to land in Vegas by 8 p.m. to be at a show that starts at 9 p.m., you start to worry about these little delays. We landed at 8:15 and The Guy headed off to get the rental car while I decided to pick up the baggage. By 8:45 I was just barely getting the luggage and called The Guy on the phone.

“Do you have the car yet? Can you come pick up me curbside?”

“Well, not exactly. Our reservation is locked up along with two other guys named J___”

“Huh?”

Apparently, Dollar rental had some quirk in their system that had three guys named J___ sitting there with no access to their cars. And it was only guys name J___ (and they all became best friends). This took ONE HOUR to fix!! So we missed Wayne Brady. Sad. I sat out in the sweltering heat (102 degrees at 10:00 p.m. at night) with my laptop on and decided just to work away. The security that screams at people to move their car (“No stopping! Just run and jump in the car as it pulls by you!”) kept coming by and looking at my screen. I’m sure they were wondering if I was up to no good…

Monday evening we had a chance to actually catch the other show we had tickets for, Cirque du Soleil’s Mystere. The Guy and I were very impressed, although he did keep whispering to me, “What the heck is going on here?” Ah yes, the French way of telling non-linear stories. I just told him not to worry; it was all written when a guy was on an acid trip. That seemed to make the most sense to him.

All in all, it was a nice break away for a couple of days but the 106 degree weather with hot, dry winds was enough to give me a headache. And it did. I ended up with probably one of the worst migraines of my life all day Tuesday. Poor The Guy didn’t know what to do to make me feel better. 

One of the highlights, though, was eating at Smith & Wollensky’s. We’re talking prime steak, folks. The Guy is pretty frugal and just about passed out when he saw the bill, but it was some of the best food I’ve ever eaten! And the service was unbelievable. All I have to say is Au Poivre Filet and Truffle Mac & Cheese. YUM.

Viva la Vida Vegas style

I am headed down to Vegas for a few days to work and soak up some extremely hot weather (it’s going to be in the low 100’s). The Guy is tagging along for fun. I let him tag…when I need the company. I’m sure I’ll be posting more of my Vegas adventures and the shows we will see in the coming days. I wish I could say I was seeing the new Cirque du Soleil show Love but alas, the only tickets left were in the very last row and I hate spending all that money to sit so very far away. Maybe my next trip to Vegas will find me in that theater…

 

One tough week for my kid

This was Caden yesterday, early afternoon, when I picked him up from his last day of baseball camp up at the U of U. (pic taken with my Blackberry)

This is him roughly 5 hours later with a scary laceration above his lip. Let me tell you how much I want to cry when I see this picture. And this is on top of a week where he got hit in the back of his head with a bat at baseball camp. Nothing scarier than feeling an indent in the back of your son’s head and having him checked out for a concussion. Scary stuff, let me tell you.

Yesterday, I ended up working from home but almost taking the day off as my throat was killing me and I had body aches which led me to worry if I wasn’t getting some sort of summer flu thanks to our crazy yo-yo weather. Caden was home from baseball camp and like every kid during summer time, wanted to spend the afternoon outdoors with local neighborhood kids, riding bikes, playing games, kicking a soccer ball. No problemo. I just told him, “Stay close to our house and if you decide to go to a friend’s house to play inside, call me.” I headed upstairs for what I hoped would be a calming, late afternoon nap to cure me of my aches and pains.

I had maybe been lying down for 30 minutes when I heard somebody bang on my door. BAM-BAM-BAM! Oh great, I thought. It’s one of Caden’s friends and I am so tired…maybe I just won’t answer it…BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM!! The banging became more pronounced, more urgent, and suddenly I could hear some crying. My mother instincts kicked into high gear. Is that Caden? Why is he crying??

I flew down the stairs, opened up the front door, and standing on the front porch were two 12 year old boys from our neighborhood, standing side by side next to Caden who was covering his mouth with both hands. And his hands were dripping blood. Blood all down his arms, all over his pants, all over his shirt, oozing between his fingers. I panicked.

“What happened?!?!” I gasped as I reached for him. The boys started to explain that they were out playing and another kid was just playing around, picked him a rock, threw it on the ground and it ricocheted off the dirt and came back and hit Caden in the face. In the face. I moved Caden’s hands (all the while trying not to throw up and pass out from all the blood) and immediately saw a huge, gaping hole above his lip that led me to exclaim, “Oh my gosh!! I have to take you to the hospital NOW!”

Caden started to sob, the boys kept apologizing, saying it was an accident and that they would bring his bike back (“Thank you. Can you just set it on our front porch for me?”), and I proceeded to run around my house grabbing a towel for his face, a hat for my crazy hair, and my insurance card.

I took him to the Bountiful instacare first since it was closer than driving all the way up to Primary’s. At first glance, I wondered if they would be able to fix it but if not, they could at least help numb it and clean it a bit before we headed up there. A nurse came out and began numbing him which for some reason made me quite woozy – and it was just a topical gel! Not a needle! So I had to lie down for a few minutes to not pass out. The nurse also took him to a wash room and helped clean him up because the blood everywhere was clearly getting to me. I felt so awful and helpless; I HATE that blood affects me the way it does!! The doctor saw him shortly and recommended we take him up to Primary Children’s Hospital because his cut was so very deep – all the way through his mouth – and they are experts at stitching cut kids. Off we went, up to the hospital to close the gap in his face.

I had called my mom to tell her what had happened and being the smart woman she is and knowing my adverse reactions to needles and blood, she met me in going up to Primary’s just in case I got too woozy. And just to be there for fabulous moral support. Thanks, Mom!!

This is him at Instacare right before we headed up to Primary’s. Notice the lovely blood-stained pants. Yeah…just looking at it makes me get a little lightheaded.

At Primary’s, they have how to treat and deal with hurt children down to an art. It’s a beautiful thing to watch and observe, how they can make a scared little boy who is terrified to get stitches be calm and comfortable. Too many people I know and love can attest to their wonderful bedside mannerisms and sheer professionalism in the face of tragedy and uncertainty. I appreciated the fact that when the doctor (Dr. Nadesh?? I think…) came in to talk to Caden, he was extremely calm and explained that there would be “No surprises. We’re going to tell you what we’re doing before we’re doing it so you don’t have to worry, okay? And we want to make sure you’re comfortable so if you feel any kind of pain at all, you raise your hand and we’ll help make it stop, okay? And it’s okay to be scared, pal, it is. But your mom and your grandma are right here and they will watch out for you, make sure we do a good job.”

And a good job they did. The worst part was the Lidocaine shots he had to get because he required three levels of stitches to close the cut – on the inside of his mouth, a few subdermal stitches, and finally on the top. Once he was numb he was so brave! My mom read a few stories aloud while they stitched away and it really brought another level of calm into the room. When it was all done, the nurse practitioner who sewed him up started to show me the inside of Caden’s mouth and that’s when I could feel myself start to get all woozy again. I lost color and pretty soon I was the one lying down on a bed with a Coke, cheese, and crackers to help me out. Shoot. I hate that.

Oh my poor, poor boy. You were very courageous and you stuck it out. But I want to just die when I see something like that on your face. I’m hoping and praying it doesn’t scar too much, that it will heal nicely and this will just be a distant memory long into the future. Yet it just makes me sick to my stomach to see his perfect, charming, angelic little face swollen and marred by stitching. I had to remind myself late last night and this morning that it was very fortunate that his eyes weren’t hit, his nose wasn’t broken, his teeth knocked out. There really were more terrifying scenarios that could have taken place so a few stitches is really low on the totem pole of distress. But it still breaks my heart.