In my old age, I am growing ever more comfortable with being thought of as a jerk. So be it. I have enough self-esteem and sufficient friends that if there are a few people out there who think I'm a terrible human being, I'm not going to sweat it. Heck, some days I agree with them.
But, masters, remember that I am an
ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not
that I am an ass.
--Much Ado About Nothing, IV.2
Monday, October 7, 2013
Thursday, January 31, 2013
The Cold War
I know, it's been far too long and all the excuses and such. I've been busy, okay? I just popped in to mention a few of interesting facts I've learned this winter as the temperatures have dipped. There were some days in December and January where we had to turn off the AC and turn on the heater (gasp!). We had a whole week where the daytime highs did not break 50! And some nights that have dipped below 40! And so, in my miserliness I have set the thermostat for the furnace to a chilly 68 degrees at night (I'm such a Scrooge!). Here we go, I'll try and type these with a straight face:
- Drinking ice-water causes fever and a head-cold. In fact foregoing ice is just the first step. It's wisest to zap your water in the microwave for a few seconds before consuming. One can never be too cautious.
- Same goes for cold milk, or other cold foods. Excepting of course ice-cream. Somehow ice-cream is exempt from the illness rule. (But if you eat "cold" cereal, be sure to warm it up in the microwave--safety first).
- Going outside with wet hair causes a sore-throat (I think--so hard to keep the diseases straight)
- Going barefoot on cold floor can cause "female problems"
- Sitting on a cold surface can cause urinary tract infection, hemorrhoids and other unmentionable below-the-waste ailments (because viruses like cold temps--and illness comes from something laying dormant in your body, just waiting for the proper cold temperature to make a go of it).
- One can be "allergic" to cold, even if one hails from an incredibly cold climate (one can also just be paranoid). If the temperature in a house gets below 70 degrees this will induce coughing, runny nose, hives, and I would assume eventual death. The cure is to stuff your comforter in your closet, sleep in your underwear with a light sheet over you and turn the heat up to about 80.
- A draft of air, particularly of cold air and particularly while one is sleeping can cause severe nerve damage/paralysis (this one I knew from my days in Italy) so under no circumstances should any vent, fan or window be allowed to be on or opened indoors (especially in a bedroom) and all caution should be taken to cover every inch of ones body out of doors when there is any kind of breeze. If it's windy, just stay home. Especially if you've washed your hair in the past week.
- Illness is caused by a change in the weather, or getting slightly chilled in some way (see above), not from simply being exposed to disease-causing micro-organisms, particularly in closed quarters. This is why kids tend to get sick about the time they go back to school--because the weather is changing, not simply because they're suddenly locked indoors with other kids who may be sick.
- We should all move to Russia because they have antibiotics that prevent and/or kill viruses. (If only the CDC knew!)
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Living Obituary
As promised, the obituary I wrote for my mother. And no, I don't typically write obituaries for the living, but my mother had emailed around this obituary to her children and specifically noted that we could use it for a template for hers. So in my defense, I was just doing what my mother told me to do. (Names and other identifying details have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty alike).
Sophronia LaDorn Knudertonsen, 1948 ~ present, Western Front, Utah - The Lake Effect Smog which so characterizes Salt Lake’s West Side thinned just a little yesterday, a tribute to the passing of one of its treasured daughters, Sophronia LaDorn Knudertonsen. It is fitting that Sophronia died in her own recliner located equidistant between the classic brown hot-tub in her perfectly manicured backyard, and the incomparable Honda Civic in her garage, which dominated the landscape of her life and which she faithfully drove to work until the day of her death. Sophronia was as strong as the steel with which the car had been built by factory workers in Japan and she never wanted to live in any city, state, or nation that could not provide her a hot soak in a snowstorm. Sophronia was born July 4th, 1948, the first of two children to Ernesto Heinz and Salina Epperstein LaDorn. She attended local schools where she was the “E(1)” of the famed Western Front High Letter-Highs, sitting between the remarkably devoted “W” and “S”, sometimes between the "T" and "R" when E(2) was unavailable . On October 31, 1970, Sofronia married LaMar Knudertonsen who, with his Liechtenstein charm, swept her off her feet . . . three times over three consecutive years at the same annual dance before she politely reminded him they’d met before and he figured he ought to propose. She found her deepest trials and truest sense of irony in mothering four sons and a daughter, Abraham Lincoln Knudertonsen of Nashville, Tennessee, Albert Einstein Knudertonsen of Pocatello, Idaho, Marie Curie Knudertonsen-Rodriguez of Oak Ridge, Tennessee, Pablo Picasso Knudertonsen of Orlando, Florida, and Orville Wright Knudertonsen of Waco, TX, who has felt short-changed since infancy. Her joy has been magnified in her senior years by watching the TiVo, and listening to her daughter's incessant prattle daily on the telephone. Her dog Amidala and her parakeet, Flippers preceded her in death. She is survived by the Energizer Bunny. Sophronia reluctantly served as president in all the auxiliaries of the LDS Church, at least twice, with perhaps her happiest years being those directly following each release. When she wasn’t visiting her grandchildren or talking on the phone, she served faithfully as an Accountant at a world-renowned tax firm in Salt Lake City near the LDS Temple where, after many decades, they’re still trying to downplay the embarrassment caused by that little episode on South Temple. The family wishes to thank the host of friends, neighbors and professionals who tolerated her crankiness and combed the back of her hair in her declining years. Special mention must be made of her husband, LaMar Knudertonsen, who washed her car nearly every day of her life, her psychiatrist, and the devoted employees of the local Joanne Fabrics. Her thoughtful grandsons Harrison Ford Knudertonsen-Rodriguez and Luke Skywalker Knudertonsen-Rodriguez repeatedly offered to just shoot her with various pieces of their personal arsenals in her final months. Appreciation is expressed to the members of the Wards that attend the church behind her back fence for their faithfulness and compassion despite the raucous Sunday hot tub parties during their worship meetings. Funeral services will be held in that same backyard at 11:00 am this Saturday, as her final request was to be buried under deck by the hot tub. Also at Sophronia’s request, there will be a clogging party and open mike poetry slam held Friday, from 5:00 to 8:00 p.m. in her garage. In lieu of flowers, please feel free to vote multiple times for any clogging group on all future episodes of America’s Got Talent, or to just do a little dance of your choosing, while thinking of Sophronia. Arrangements are made under the influence of lots of chocolate. Friends and family are invited to post comments about embarrassing moments in Sophronia’s life on her daughter’s blog: http://image-jen.blogspot.com/
I've now posted explicit and personal details about my mother on two consecutive days. I realize I've dropped off the blogging map for a while there, but I'm waiting to see when she decides to check in on my blog and whether she requests I remove either posting . . . anyone want to place bets?
I lost that bet, but I do think the edited version may surpass the original.
Sophronia LaDorn Knudertonsen, 1948 ~ present, Western Front, Utah - The Lake Effect Smog which so characterizes Salt Lake’s West Side thinned just a little yesterday, a tribute to the passing of one of its treasured daughters, Sophronia LaDorn Knudertonsen. It is fitting that Sophronia died in her own recliner located equidistant between the classic brown hot-tub in her perfectly manicured backyard, and the incomparable Honda Civic in her garage, which dominated the landscape of her life and which she faithfully drove to work until the day of her death. Sophronia was as strong as the steel with which the car had been built by factory workers in Japan and she never wanted to live in any city, state, or nation that could not provide her a hot soak in a snowstorm. Sophronia was born July 4th, 1948, the first of two children to Ernesto Heinz and Salina Epperstein LaDorn. She attended local schools where she was the “E(1)” of the famed Western Front High Letter-Highs, sitting between the remarkably devoted “W” and “S”, sometimes between the "T" and "R" when E(2) was unavailable . On October 31, 1970, Sofronia married LaMar Knudertonsen who, with his Liechtenstein charm, swept her off her feet . . . three times over three consecutive years at the same annual dance before she politely reminded him they’d met before and he figured he ought to propose. She found her deepest trials and truest sense of irony in mothering four sons and a daughter, Abraham Lincoln Knudertonsen of Nashville, Tennessee, Albert Einstein Knudertonsen of Pocatello, Idaho, Marie Curie Knudertonsen-Rodriguez of Oak Ridge, Tennessee, Pablo Picasso Knudertonsen of Orlando, Florida, and Orville Wright Knudertonsen of Waco, TX, who has felt short-changed since infancy. Her joy has been magnified in her senior years by watching the TiVo, and listening to her daughter's incessant prattle daily on the telephone. Her dog Amidala and her parakeet, Flippers preceded her in death. She is survived by the Energizer Bunny. Sophronia reluctantly served as president in all the auxiliaries of the LDS Church, at least twice, with perhaps her happiest years being those directly following each release. When she wasn’t visiting her grandchildren or talking on the phone, she served faithfully as an Accountant at a world-renowned tax firm in Salt Lake City near the LDS Temple where, after many decades, they’re still trying to downplay the embarrassment caused by that little episode on South Temple. The family wishes to thank the host of friends, neighbors and professionals who tolerated her crankiness and combed the back of her hair in her declining years. Special mention must be made of her husband, LaMar Knudertonsen, who washed her car nearly every day of her life, her psychiatrist, and the devoted employees of the local Joanne Fabrics. Her thoughtful grandsons Harrison Ford Knudertonsen-Rodriguez and Luke Skywalker Knudertonsen-Rodriguez repeatedly offered to just shoot her with various pieces of their personal arsenals in her final months. Appreciation is expressed to the members of the Wards that attend the church behind her back fence for their faithfulness and compassion despite the raucous Sunday hot tub parties during their worship meetings. Funeral services will be held in that same backyard at 11:00 am this Saturday, as her final request was to be buried under deck by the hot tub. Also at Sophronia’s request, there will be a clogging party and open mike poetry slam held Friday, from 5:00 to 8:00 p.m. in her garage. In lieu of flowers, please feel free to vote multiple times for any clogging group on all future episodes of America’s Got Talent, or to just do a little dance of your choosing, while thinking of Sophronia. Arrangements are made under the influence of lots of chocolate. Friends and family are invited to post comments about embarrassing moments in Sophronia’s life on her daughter’s blog: http://image-jen.blogspot.com/
I've now posted explicit and personal details about my mother on two consecutive days. I realize I've dropped off the blogging map for a while there, but I'm waiting to see when she decides to check in on my blog and whether she requests I remove either posting . . . anyone want to place bets?
I lost that bet, but I do think the edited version may surpass the original.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Liberty and Gayes
So today I went to vote in the run-off primary election. How exactly does one choose a candidate for Sheriff between a guy with a mile long record of mostly stupid, but some rather questionable permanent administrative write-ups, and his opponent who has been accused of physically abusing his first and second wives? And frankly, that was the easier decision since I'd rather vote for an idiot than a wife-beater. In another race, how do I (as a moderate) choose between an uber-right-wing wacko, and his creepy slandering (but moderate) opponent. I voted for the slanderer, but was kinda glad he lost. I can't wait for the actual election where I don't have to pick a party and can just vote for the best candidate, regardless of party. I digress.
What I really wanted to post about was my own case of wacko-ness, not actual political wack-o's. So, I'm trying to find the polling location, and as I walk right past it, I ask a lady coming toward me, where the polling location is. She points to the door I just passed (surely she was thinking, it's the one with the polling information posted all over the door--idiot). So as I turned to head back, I see my friend (named Liberty) exiting the polls and walking away from me. I of course wanted to make sure Liberty saw me there because, Liberty takes her name very seriously and strongly encourages everyone she knows to get involved in politics and vote, and I wanted to get credit in her score book for having shown up at the polls. And by strongly encourages, I mean that she is a bit of a right-wing-wacko in her own right (and I mean that in the best sense of the term wack-o. I really appreciate someone who speaks their mind--read: whose filter is broken much like mine--but even more-so).
Back to my point about wack-o's. So I see Liberty walking away, and like any reasonable person whose liberty is being taken away, I start to wave my arms and holler LIBERTY!! LIBERTY!! as I head toward the polling station. The kind lady next to me (who already thinks I'm an idiot) now thinks I'm a wacko shouting for liberty at passing traffic as I head to the polls. Just doing my duty to prove that it's mostly just the wack-o's that get out to vote.
So now for the more interesting part of my post. My mother. My mother is an amazing human being. She is smart, capable and highly entertaining. I may very well have posted this before since it's one of the funniest true stories I've ever heard tell. So my mother works in downtown Salt Lake City, Utah, and one afternoon she is trying to get some paperwork out to another company under deadline. The woman from the other office, whose name was Gaye, said she'd come by and pick it up late that afternoon and my mother would come down to the street level to hand it off (surely you can see where this is going). At the appointed time, my mother walks out to the sidewalk, filled with pedestrians making their way home for the evening, and looks around for the white sedan Gaye had described. There were of course several white sedans double-parked along South Temple at that moment. My mother simply walked up to the first, caught the drivers eye through the window and said loudly "ARE YOU GAYE?!" The woman looked horrified at the question, waved her arms and shook her head vehemently, locking her doors. Odd, thought my mother. I want to say she approached another car or two with the same question before she realized the nature of her inquiry. She did eventually find her intended rendezvous, then hightailed it red-faced, back to the office with a great story of solicitation on South Temple, Salt Lake City.
I love that story. Next time I'll dig up the obituary I wrote for her, because really, if a person can't enjoy their obit while they're still alive, what's the point?
What I really wanted to post about was my own case of wacko-ness, not actual political wack-o's. So, I'm trying to find the polling location, and as I walk right past it, I ask a lady coming toward me, where the polling location is. She points to the door I just passed (surely she was thinking, it's the one with the polling information posted all over the door--idiot). So as I turned to head back, I see my friend (named Liberty) exiting the polls and walking away from me. I of course wanted to make sure Liberty saw me there because, Liberty takes her name very seriously and strongly encourages everyone she knows to get involved in politics and vote, and I wanted to get credit in her score book for having shown up at the polls. And by strongly encourages, I mean that she is a bit of a right-wing-wacko in her own right (and I mean that in the best sense of the term wack-o. I really appreciate someone who speaks their mind--read: whose filter is broken much like mine--but even more-so).
Back to my point about wack-o's. So I see Liberty walking away, and like any reasonable person whose liberty is being taken away, I start to wave my arms and holler LIBERTY!! LIBERTY!! as I head toward the polling station. The kind lady next to me (who already thinks I'm an idiot) now thinks I'm a wacko shouting for liberty at passing traffic as I head to the polls. Just doing my duty to prove that it's mostly just the wack-o's that get out to vote.
So now for the more interesting part of my post. My mother. My mother is an amazing human being. She is smart, capable and highly entertaining. I may very well have posted this before since it's one of the funniest true stories I've ever heard tell. So my mother works in downtown Salt Lake City, Utah, and one afternoon she is trying to get some paperwork out to another company under deadline. The woman from the other office, whose name was Gaye, said she'd come by and pick it up late that afternoon and my mother would come down to the street level to hand it off (surely you can see where this is going). At the appointed time, my mother walks out to the sidewalk, filled with pedestrians making their way home for the evening, and looks around for the white sedan Gaye had described. There were of course several white sedans double-parked along South Temple at that moment. My mother simply walked up to the first, caught the drivers eye through the window and said loudly "ARE YOU GAYE?!" The woman looked horrified at the question, waved her arms and shook her head vehemently, locking her doors. Odd, thought my mother. I want to say she approached another car or two with the same question before she realized the nature of her inquiry. She did eventually find her intended rendezvous, then hightailed it red-faced, back to the office with a great story of solicitation on South Temple, Salt Lake City.
I love that story. Next time I'll dig up the obituary I wrote for her, because really, if a person can't enjoy their obit while they're still alive, what's the point?
Friday, July 27, 2012
You Know Your Husband's Health Is Improving When . . .
It's already the 27th of the month and you have to ask at the hospital information desk for the "new" monthly wifi password. And not because you forgot it, but simply because you haven't been around to need it yet this month!
Thursday, July 26, 2012
You Can't Win Them All
Although "some people" may say my spousal communication skills have declined in recent months, I must say that my bread making skills have significantly improved. You can't make something out of nothing, so you gotta prioritize is what I say . . .
The one on the left is a roasted garlic and kalamata olive loaf and on the right is ciabatta. Yes, I make ciabatta now, from scratch. If you don't know what a good ciabatta tastes like, you need to spend some time living in a dingy apartment behind a bakery in Italy. Your life will never be the same.
Will there be bread in Heaven? It makes a difference in my day to day choices you know. In so many ways.
The one on the left is a roasted garlic and kalamata olive loaf and on the right is ciabatta. Yes, I make ciabatta now, from scratch. If you don't know what a good ciabatta tastes like, you need to spend some time living in a dingy apartment behind a bakery in Italy. Your life will never be the same.
Will there be bread in Heaven? It makes a difference in my day to day choices you know. In so many ways.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Do Not Try This At Home
Just in case you were wondering . . . if your child cracks your dvd trying to get it out of the case, attempting to melt the crack back together with a lighter will not improve the situation.
We've collected the Harry Potter movies over the years and finally Ethan has taken to the books. He just finished the second one and wanted to watch the movie. Desperate situations call for desperate acts. But never let desperation drive you to use fire as a fix. It won't end well.
Let us all be grateful for Amazon movies on demand.
We've collected the Harry Potter movies over the years and finally Ethan has taken to the books. He just finished the second one and wanted to watch the movie. Desperate situations call for desperate acts. But never let desperation drive you to use fire as a fix. It won't end well.
Let us all be grateful for Amazon movies on demand.
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