1. It’s impossible to find a proper fucking onion bagel in Utah. The only local bagel store caters to the local tastes (SWEET) and stopped making onion bagels. This infuriates me. I’m considering making bagels at home which is far more work than I want to put in to eat a bagel.

2. I hate it when I cannot solve a problem or conflict and I feel lost in it. I feel that way right now over something that happened with a friend. I’m not sure how to deal with it so I’ve decided to say FUCK IT. I’m not feeling very well about it.

3. Grandma has congestive heart failure and is carrying about 20 extra pounds of water weight so her doctor prescribed diuretics. Diuretics make Grandma CRAZY with anxiety and fear about the toilet and potty and accidents. I understand that it’s stressful to have to move around a lot to go to the bathroom (especially at my grandma’s age) but it is hard to talk about it ALL DAY LONG. Grams went to the bathroom three times in 3 hours and she was screaming, “I WENT TO THE BATHROOM TEN TIMES!” But it’s not worth arguing with her because it’s like trying to reason with a two year old. A very powerful two year old. She’s getting older and more confused (especially with water weight, which makes confusion worse) and it has been difficult lately and I feel like complaining about it makes me a bad person so I’ve been pretty quiet about it. (At least online.)

4. There is no “x” is espresso. I don’t think this will ever not bother me.

Right now I’m feeling like ten year old me. I wish that I didn’t get so incensed when I see injustice. Why aren’t the people around me upset when they witness felonies within our own family? Everyone says crap like, “No harm no foul.” Well, I say fuck that! A felony is a felony.

Life would be a lot easier if I cared a little less. But then I guess I wouldn’t be me. So I’m just sitting here, taking deep breaths, getting ready to be around my family tomorrow and not lose my shit.

My uncle came by today to say hello to the grandparents. He lives and works closer to grams than the rest of us but has only recently started making an effort to spend time with his mother and stepfather. I’m glad that he’s (FINALLY) started to pay attention to grams (because she loves it) but damn, being around him is painful.

Uncle has an inflection to his voice best described as “full of the spirit.” The way that he emphasizes words and takes a soft-spoken, yet authoritative, tone when talking about church stuff (which is pretty much all the time) makes me feel stabby.

Last month he brought by a Jesus-y Christmas book and related a church talk he gave that compared the grips Satan can take on one’s testimony of the gospel to the destruction of the Titanic. BARF-A-FUCKING-RAMA. He also made sure to warn the grandparents about a “Terribly un-American movie. You may have heard of it, it’s called Avatar.” (Cue hysterical laughter.)

During today’s visit I made sure to remain busy cleaning while he was in the house so I didn’t have to interact with him. I should have put in earplugs. First he started in with all this “let’s destroy all of nature in attempt to rape the earth of oil / environmentalists are evil” crap. I didn’t start to really lose it until an elderly neighbor stopped by. Grandma introduced uncle as her “geologist son” to the neighbor.

Neighbor: Geologist, huh? Can you tell me if we’re going to have an earthquake?
Uncle: I can’t tell you if we’re going to have an earthquake, unless you live in Cedar City, then I can tell you that there was an earthquake morning. The real danger you should watch out for is a large meteor hitting the earth.
Neighbor: Is that so? You can tell that with science?
Uncle: Not with science, but with something more concrete: THE BOOK OF REVELATIONS.

Then the uncle and neighbor took turns baring their testimonies of the truthfulness of the one and only restored gospel of Jesus Christ on the earth (aka, THE MORMONS). I did my best to stay away from sharp implements and get the fuck out of there before I lost my mind.

– President Barack Obama, February 24, 2009

I hope and pray that health care reform change begins ASAP. Unfortunately I fear that will not happen.

After watching the President’s address to the joint session of Congress on Health Care I found myself extremely disenchanted: not with anything Mr. President said (he was quite inspiring), I was disheartened to hear the booing and yelling from the Republican side of Congress and the very inappropriate outburst from Rep. Joe Wilson. If Congressional members cannot express feelings and ideas in a civil manner it is no wonder American citizens are not capable of positive political discourse. I have started to close myself off politically because nothing positive comes from sharing my thoughts and feelings. There is no exchange of ideas and principles, only yelling and bickering. We can’t even talk to each other anymore! We are surrounded by shocking and distasteful beliefs, actions, and tactics. My greatest fear is that the political shenanigans between the two political parties will prevent any real change or progress.

The previous paragraph was brought to you by the grief and emotional eruption resulting from receiving the following letter from the hospital where I received my D&C in February. After five months of consistent payments they mailed me this:

“***FINAL NOTICE***

This is our final effort. We value your patronage and want you as a patient. But, as much as we regret, your account may be placed with an outside agency for collection unless full payment is made within the next ten (10) days.”

BULLSHIT! They do not value my patronage or want me as a patient. If they did, they wouldn’t be such pricks. The phone calls to them are nothing short of horrific. I swear the call center representatives at the hospital were direct hired DMV employee rejects with anger and rage issues. I know it’s probably an error (I hope) and I will call them shortly to attempt resolution, but I am not looking forward to it anymore than I would look forward to a colonoscopy.

Receiving that letter really struck a chord in me. I am sick and fucking tired of all the bullshit associated with our health care and the political responses to the possibilities of change. So I did what any normal American would do, I wrote a letter to the President. I was going to email it but I think intent can be lost in the current electronic shuffle. So I’m rocking it old school and sending my letter via snail mail.

Over the weekend I had a dream that Mike and I were at a Schlitterbahn Waterpark. (Random? Yes.) We were at the top of a large waterslide when I started going into labor: it was very unnerving, especially when the teenage lifeguard delivered the baby. In my dream the baby was born safe and healthy. The next part of the dream was me at home with the baby and I couldn’t seem to hold the baby correctly. I would be walking around with my infant in my arms and it would slip out. This happened a few times and when I would not be able to hold the baby safely it would gently fall onto a bed or sofa. Even though it was all a dream, I woke up feeling a serious sense of failure because I couldn’t even hold my own baby without dropping it…which was bizarre to feel when I was awake since I don’t have a baby.

Today I saw a car with TWO “Baby on Board” signs. I have always found Baby on Board signs pretentious and annoying because if they didn’t have their stupid sign up warning me to be careful around their car, I would totally demolish it with my shitty driving skills. WTF? I noticed the driver (mother) was smoking a cigarette with a little baby girl in the backseat (I only knew because pink threw up all over that backseat) and an elementary school aged boy in the front seat. I wish I didn’t get so upset, but I hate seeing people abuse their kids. It seemed especially horrible since she posted fucking Baby on Board signs all over her back window and bumper. I wanted to jump out of my car at a stoplight and save those kids because she obviously doesn’t deserve them.

After telling my mother that I wanted to write a very carefully worded letter to Walt Disney thanking him for promoting the myth of fairytale weddings she told me that most brides give their mothers more responsibility so they don’t have to be all freaked out. It’s funny because I thought putting my mother in charge of making and transporting all of the food, coordinating borrowing tables, chairs, and tablecloths was a lot of responsibility. But apparently it is not enough because she continues to make shitloads of spreadsheets about everyfuckingdetail and lives for long conversations about table placement that make me dream of suicide. I don’t know what else to give her unless she wants to wear my wedding dress.

I just reread the previous paragraph and I am a total bitch! Which our good friends S and V told me is permitted. They said Mike and I both get a behavior “pass” this week. (But after the wedding they’ll start making a list – HA.)

S also saved me from my mother yesterday after the ridiculously overstressed transportation of the tables and chairs to the cabin. He jumped in and helped with discussing details I lacked the brainpower (or desire) to address. And at the end of the day when we were at S and V’s house, being fed delicious vodka cherry concoctions, S perfectly summed up the day of watching our families interact when he said, “There are too many cooks in the kitchen!” Suddenly I don’t feel so bad about mentally checking out and spending most of my day taking deep breaths and playing solitaire on Facebook.

It’s been a while since my mother entered the world of Facebook. I knew she was using (HA, HA) because she kept mentioning it in when I was around without specifically asking me why we weren’t friends because that’s how my family rolls: dysfunctional!

After months of ignoring passive aggressive Facebook chatter, this morning I received a friend request from my dad. He and I have always had a different relationship than my mother and I and it took me about two seconds before deciding to accept his request. I feel a little bad. This isn’t exactly news since I make feeling bad a hobby. HELL, I’m a damned professional! I don’t know if it is from my religious upbringing or my middle-child-ness, but if I were a super hero my power would likely be GUILT.

So now I feel like I should go through my Facebook crap and clean things out so as not to offend my parents, which is how I rationalized not being connected to them on there before, but I don’t want to have to watch who I am or pretend I’m something I’m not. I’m the foul-mouthed middle child who posts suggestive pictures of myself with Brigham Young statues or makes vomit hand signals while holding a Holy Temple book in the middle of the LDS section of the local bookstore. I also rant and rave about weirdness and living in Utah gives me PLENTY to rant about.

How many of you are connected to your parents on social networking websites? Am I the only one experiencing parental anxiety? HELP!