The Mother Load

Why don't I make you a nice bowl of bowl?

2011-12-16T21:27:00.001-07:00

Mom, today I learned that bowls that say things like "Soup" or "Ice Cream" are only for smart people who know what bowls are.

Because waiting until May for a graduation ceremony is just silly.

2011-12-15T10:15:00.000-07:00

Mom, today I learned why it pays to have friends who know Photoshop.

(Special thanks to my friend and Mother Load reader, Lis C., of Portland, OR, for this bit of awesomeness. I finished up classes for my degree this week, but there are no ceremonies for fall graduates unless they want to wait 5 months. Meh. The original picture was taken at the Weird Al concert we attended in September, and it was way cooler than any stuffy old commencement ceremony!)

Outrageous News: No curvy girls allowed at the testing center at BYU-Idaho

2011-12-14T11:47:00.000-07:00

I saw this story a week ago when it was originally published in the BYU-I student newspaper, and I thought, There's an Outrageous News story right there. However, I was in the middle of studying for finals and writing papers and finishing up assignments at the University of Utah. Today, the story jumped back into the forefront of my mind when a picture started circulating on Facebook.

Let's look at the picture now, shall we?

Originally posted on Facebook by Shaila Keck, it had been shared nearly 200 times by the time I clicked the share button. This is a picture of Shaila's friend, Rachel Vermillion. Cute girl, right? Nicely dressed in a pretty but casual outfit. Typical college attire in the cold winter months.

You'd think that...because you're a reasonable human being.

Unfortunately for Rachel, she was not dealing with a reasonable human like you when she entered the testing center at Brigham Young University-Idaho to take an exam. She was asked to leave because the outfit you see above was deemed immodest by a male testing center employee who felt her "skinny jeans" were a violation of the school's dress code which frowns on "form fitting" attire.

You just scrolled back up to take another look at the picture, and you're wondering if you're in the Twilight Zone right now, aren't you? It's okay. You're really not. I know how unsettling that feeling can be.

First of all, those are not skinny jeans. I know this because I own a pair. I had no idea I was buying something so fashionable when I yanked them off the rack at the local thrift store, but own them I do, however accidentally. I promise you, my skinny jeans do not bunch at the bottom like Rachel's. They don't flair like those. They don't allow for appropriate circulation like those.

When Rachel tried to plead her case in light of the fact that the testing center would be closed before she could return in something sufficiently frumpy, the apparently blind eyes of her judge/jury/executioner were accompanied by a pair of deaf ears. When she pointed out that other girls (thinner, less curvaceous girls) were being admitted with tighter jeans than hers, she was told that the question of modesty or lack thereof was left to the "ridiculously shortsighted, offensive, and objectifying discretion" of testing center employees (incredibly accurate italics mine).

This is probably the point in this column that I should make something abundantly clear: I have no problem with a private, church run school having and enforcing a dress code. I have no problem that my religion preaches the virtue of modesty. I preach it in my home. My girls and boys wear modest clothing or they don't leave the house.

I'm a devout Mormon who would never willingly attend any of the BYU campuses, but it's not because the Honor Code exists. It's because there are dufuses on campus who misinterpret the Honor Code and feel it's their God given duty to tell everyone else what they're doing wrong. I'm a fan of modest dress. I'm not a fan of dufuses.

The dufuses in this case had actually posted a sign in the testing center saying that if a student was dressed inappropriately (as determined by the aformentioned italicized discretion of the employees), they should go home and pray about how to be a "true disciple" of the Lord. The manager of the testing center was also quoted as saying that if someone prayed and felt their clothing was appropriate anyway, they "...have not asked, or have not asked the right question, or they have chosen an answer for their own gratification."

Because all the best dufuses speak for God, you know.

Scrolling up again to look at the picture, I think the problem here is less Rachel Vermillion's actual clothing and more the way it enhances and beautifies her gorgeous curves. I think the staff member who failed to see tight jeans on stick thin students and only saw them on the curvy girl needs a lesson in what women actually look like.

Hey, Dufus. Women are not men. Our bodies are not straight. We have hips. We have breasts (gasp!). We have voluptuous bottoms and curvaceous thighs. And you know who gave those to us? Yep...it was God. The Man Upstairs himself. And disciple or not, I don't think He intends for us to equate modesty with shapeless frumpiness. Women can wear clothes that fit and be modest. I promise.

To the school's credit, BYU-I issued a statement saying that there is no official ban on skinny jeans and that they were dealing with the problem in the testing center. To their detriment (at least in my opinion), they have not issued an official apology to Rachel. I think I'll rectify that by doing it for them.

Dear Rachel Vermillion,

I wish to express my deepest apologies to you for your poor treatment at the BYU-I testing center. Your outfit was in no way inappropriate, and anyone with half a brain and eyes that work would have known that. I'm sorry you had to deal with a dufus, and I hope you were able to take your test without any further problems. Also? SHOUT OUT for psych majors! Neuropsych was crazy, am I right?

Rachel, don't let the dufuses get your down. Be proud of your beautiful, curvy body and know that you are my hero. My girls will be reading this blog post, and your picture is going up in their rooms as an example of modesty and strength in the face of adversity and judgment. My girls may well inherit my curves, and I never, ever want them to feel ashamed that they have them. There's no sin in bootiliciousness. Always remember that.

I may or may not also be taping your picture to my treadmill for motivation.

Thank goodness for Hulu...and quiet.

2011-12-14T09:27:00.000-07:00

Mom, today I learned that sometimes, a mom's got to do what a mom's got to do.

The desperate last opinions of a young adult.

2011-12-13T15:04:00.000-07:00

So, I'm turning 35 in a week. 35. For the most part, I'm okay with this. I've never been one to lie about my age or pretend I'm younger than I am. As much as I complain about getting old, I actually don't mind it that much. I mean, I was a child of the Cold War 80s who imagined Ronald Reagan with his finger perpetually on the big button. I thought I'd die in a nuclear attack before I was 16. Every year after that has been a wonderful surprise.

But there's something about 35. It is, sad to say, a milestone in the marketing world. From the time I was 18 until now, my views on the world mattered. My television habits mattered. My opinion on just about everything most certainly mattered...at least to the people who sell stuff. I've been in the "coveted" 18-34 year old demographic for as long as I've been an adult, and in one week, all of that changes.

I could write this blog post about how the population is getting older and how older people matter more than marketers think, but that would be boring. It would lend credence to the argument that boring old people aren't the types to which you want to market anything other than Geritol and blood pressure medication.

Nah, I know when I'm licked. Mother Earth and Father Time have conspired against me, and there's just no stopping that. I think they're getting kickbacks from Nike and MTV, but what can you do, right? It's time to face the fact that in one week, no one will care whether or not I watch "The X Factor" (I don't) or love the Whitman Sampler Dark Chocolate Assortment (I DO!). I am preparing myself for marketing oblivion, and that's okay.

But first...

Hey, I'm not 35 yet. I have one more week of relevance, and today, I'm going to use it! That's right. This 34 year old is about to tell you what she thinks! Marketers, are you listening? It's all here...the coveted opinions and shopping choices of a bonafide 34 year old. A woman in her prime. A shopper, watcher, and thinker you've been tracking. In a week, I'll be older than dirt, but today, my friends, today I am a young adult, and I am speaking. Hear me, oh great marketing conglomerates.

Dogs vs cats: Cats...because dogs are slobbery, loud, they don't clean up after themselves, and they need babysitters. If I wanted to have another child, I would have kept my uterus.

Denny's vs Ihop: Denny's. The Ihop in Lawton, Oklahoma was damaged twice when I was a child, first by a tornado and then by a fire. I think that track record speaks for itself. God obviously wants me to go to Denny's.

The Walking Dead vs Once Upon a Time: Once Upon a Time. I tried The Walking Dead. Riveting stuff. I just need to be able to go into my basement and move laundry without carrying a gun. I'd be willing to pack heat while checking the dryer, but I don't own a gun, so no more zombie television for me. I toyed with the idea of disposable clothing, but Richard nixed that. He also wasn't a fan of sleeping with the lights on.

Creamy or chunky: It depends. If we're talking about cats, I'd say chunky. If we're talking about peanut butter, I'd say chunky.

BYU vs University of Utah: I don't understand the question. Are there people who would choose BYU?

Butter vs margarine: Butter...because, come on. It's butter.

US Postal Service vs Fed Ex: Email.

McDonald's vs Burger King: Either, but only if poison control told me I needed to induce vomiting immediately.

The Daily Show vs The Colbert Report: This choice is like Netflix vs Hulu. I like them both for different reasons. I watch The Daily Show because it's hilarious. I watch The Colbert Report because it's super hilarious.

Lol or ROFL: Either way, I'm really just chuckling quietly through my nose.

Republican vs Democrat: I'm an Independent, which means I can't stand either, which means I want to vote "None of the above," which means I wish Richard Pryor were still alive, which means I know that movie reference, which means I'm too old for marketers to care about what I have to say.

(Shhhhh...don't tell.)

What I learned while I was too busy to blog because I was finishing my degree, and did you see that I finished my degree?

2011-12-13T13:35:00.001-07:00

Mom, today I learned what happens when you tell your sister-in-law, Mary, that you don't eat anything with a face.

I learned just how far my kids will go to get ice cream after a choir concert.

Shameless, don't you think?

Of course, I learned that I am a complete pushover, and I learned that Miriam, the slowest food orderer in the West, can order dessert quite quickly...when it has her name on it.

I learned that when the fan on one of your laptops stops working, you can keep it running if you sit in front of another type of fan while you work.

I learned my nephew, Ryan, is now old enough to get married.

But not too old to stop being a dork, thank goodness.

I learned that I am still capable of cross stitching.

And that I CAN wear amazingly uncomfortable shoes for the sake of fashion and live to tell the tale.

And finally, I learned that even when I show him a picture of how silly he looks, Richard will still keep trying to kiss me this way.

But then...this is Richard we're talking about...

Stupid Product: Tofurky

2011-11-23T14:00:00.000-07:00

I've been a vegetarian for seven months now. Tomorrow marks the first Thanksgiving holiday that will have me cooking but not eating Thanksgiving turkey and ham. I'll cook the meat for my omnivore children and save the leftovers in our freezer, so I can pull them out for the types of meat-optional meals I've been cooking this year.

One thing I won't be cooking tomorrow? Tofurky.

Now, I'm a fan of tofu. I've liked it since long before I made the decision to go meat free. Alone and raw, it's reminiscent of a square of soggy joint compound, but cubed and added to soups or cooked up in a stir fry or pasta dish, the stuff can be quite yummy. Do I think that only because I haven't had bacon in seven months? Who knows?

Point is, I like tofu. Tofu is my friend. Tofu and I? We're like THIS!

Tofu based fake meat products?

Eh...not so much.

See, I'm one of those vegetarians who doesn't miss meat so much they need to eat fake stuff in order to pretend they're still meat eaters. Contrary to the beliefs of some, I don't sit around wishing I could gnaw on a sinewy rib or chow down on chicken nuggets. I guess there are vegetarians who feel that way, and that's why things like Tofurky exist. I'm just not one of those vegetarians.

And even if I were...have you SEEN Tofurky? It looks like...how do I say this delicately? It looks like a distended, discolored, disembodied uterus filled with stuffing. Would you want to eat stuffed uterus? I didn't think so. I mean...I don't want to eat animals because they're animals. WHY would I want to eat something that looks vaguely human in origin?

I will give the Tofurky people credit. Tofurky ingredients aren't as bad as those you might see in some fake meat products (Boca Burgers, I'm looking at you, here). But still...one thing I've learned as a newly initiated herbivore is that there is an entire world of food out there. I don't need to eat inside the American box anymore, and I certainly don't need to eat fake food to make my plate conform to an old tradition.

Thanksgiving may be all about the turkey for most, but it's all about the family for me. And I love my family too much to make them watch me eat a processed blob of falsehood made of soy and wheat gluten. Hey, I'm a mom who loves her kids. That's just how I roll.

Speaking of rolling... Conan gave his take on Tofurky below, and I laughed until I cried. Watch it. Love it. Share it.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Still better than Renesmee.

2011-11-23T12:15:00.000-07:00

Mom, today I learned that baby name books are getting job specific.

But seriously, I don't...

2011-11-22T12:08:00.000-07:00

Mom, today I learned why people think I drink coffee on the sly.

Pressing tofu, now easier than ever!

2011-11-21T12:01:00.002-07:00

Mom, today I learned that there IS a use for the giant can of nacho cheese in my house.

Halloween was just yesterday, right?

2011-11-18T23:48:00.000-07:00

Mom, today I learned that my math obsessed husband has officially ruined my children. Miriam organized her Halloween candy and calculated the min, max, range, mean, mode, and median.

Heaven help us all.

Who's that girl?

2011-10-27T17:02:00.000-06:00

Mom, today I learned that I'm still not above using cramazing (crazy amazing) camera angles to make myself look perfect for a Facebook profile picture. I have no problem with this. In my next life, I want that (single) chin. It's cute!

(Special thanks to my white hoodie for making my blue eyes POP. Thanks, also, to my left arm for holding the camera just so, and to my long hair for hiding the rest of my face. You guys are the BEST!)

The Mother Unload: Scale Free

2011-10-27T16:49:00.000-06:00

As free as the wind blows?

I don't know how much I weigh. I haven't known how much I've weighed for over a month now. I lost track of my bathroom scale at some point during our recent move, so while I've continued doing the things I know will help me be healthier and lose weight, I have no idea whether or not I've succeeded in the latter.

Do I like it? Well, I'm torn. The gung ho, die hard, *insert other confidence inducing idiom here* part of me is saying, "Heck, yeah!" to the new me who isn't manacled to an arbitrary number. The bit of old me who's still in there thinks it's nice to know you've been successful...and to tell everyone on Facebook.

For now, the strong, confident warrior woman is winning out. Weight ain't nothin' but a number, after all.

Because I'm determined to tie birth metaphors into just about everything I do, I'll put it this way. Much is made in the world of birth about the arbitrary measurement of cervical dilation. Women who are close to their due dates go into doctor's offices hoping for good news. They come out saying, "I'm already 2 centimeters and 70% effaced! I'm going to have my baby soon!" Or they say, "I'm not even dilated at all! I'll be pregnant forever." Permutations of these scenarios are endless.

The thing is, woman #1 might be three weeks away from actually giving birth. Woman #2 might go into labor the very same day. Or vice versa...or neither, nor. The state of a woman's cervix tells us very little about when a baby will be born because babies come when they're darned good and ready, whether their mothers think the time is right or not. Women get focused on a number and more often than not, that number drives them absolutely out of their minds.

The same can be said of weight. Women (and men) too often walk into their bathrooms daily and step on their scales as if approaching a magic mirror straight out of a fairy tale.

"Scale, scale, on the floor: Today, will I love myself less...or more?"

The number they find there means whatever they want to think it means, but most of the time, it's something like this: "I've gained two pounds! I'm a worthless excuse for a human being who doesn't deserve to live!" Or, "I've lost two pounds. WOOHOOO! I'm the most amazing person in the history of history!"

While it's great to see you've made progress, and it can be helpful to get a warning that you're slipping back into old habits, weights, especially those just a day apart, are as meaningless to those trying to lose weight as cervical dilation is to women wondering when baby day will be. Everyone is different, every day is different, and weight is a complex mix of a large number of factors.

For instance, my thyroid is completely dead. Kaput. Non-functional. I take synthetic thyroid hormone to keep things working and to avoid being a great, big ball of pain and paranoia every day. While Synthroid does its job for the most part, I've never been able to get back the fluid balance I used to have before my body decided my thyroid was public enemy #1 and had it murdered in a drive-by. My weight can fluctuate as much as 5-7 pounds from one day to the next. One day, I'm Sarah of the adorable apple cheekbones and Shirley Temple dimples. The next, I'm Puffy McPuffster, the Bloated.

If I used my weight as a guide for how well I'm doing in my weight loss, I would literally cry every.single.day.

But you don't need a thyroid problem to have weight fluctuations. You need only be a human being. Are you human being? You are? Then your weight must fluctuate...for no good reason...despite all the cardio and carrots and prayer! So why not ditch the scale for awhile and focus on the other signs you're doing well?

Without my scale, I've become much more aware of the way my clothes fit and the way I feel. The other night, I started undressing for bed and realized with a start that I had just taken off my tightest pair of jeans without unbuttoning them. MY TIGHTEST PAIR OF JEANS! What would the scale have said that night? What would I have lost if I had been focused on a number instead of my jeans?

Regardless of my current weight, I'm feeling really, really good. My stomach doesn't hurt when I eat anymore. I'm more hungry and eat more often. I CRAVE vegetables, fruits, and whole grains. My cheating moments are no longer satisfying. My tongue has begun rejecting junk whenever I try to eat it. All of these things tell me much more about my current state of health than any old bathroom scale ever could.

I will weigh myself again at some point. I see the doctor twice a year to check my thyroid levels and adjust my meds, as needed. They have a spiffy little scale in their office that I've never been able to avoid. I'm good with that. In the meantime, I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing, looking for different, better signs that what I'm doing is working.

It won't be as exciting on Facebook, but that's what pictures of oversized jeans are for.

You've Gotta See This: Catholic Cat Choir

2011-10-25T09:43:00.000-06:00

Have you ever been tagged in a post on Facebook? I was...last night. My friend, Corey, thought it was extremely important that I see this little bit of amazingness. I think Corey has her priorities exactly right. I giggled all over this last night and then guffawed again this morning when I decided it was required viewing for my cats. (Bulging eyes and laid back ears get me every time.)

These choir boys should get an award. Enjoy!

(Thanks to Corey O. of Payson, UT, for sharing this gem with me.)

At least it's made in the USA...

2011-10-25T09:20:00.000-06:00

Mom, today I learned that the underage worker is perfectly willing to work in a sweatshop...if it means having a cute Halloween costume.

Quill, master of the blanket fort

2011-10-24T16:54:00.000-06:00

Mom, today I learned that when you find a display of cuteness like this, you're much more forgiving of naughty cats. (Even when his naughtiness is the reason the blankets had to be washed in the first place...)

Meh...

2011-09-29T09:00:00.000-06:00

Mom, today I learned that some license plates just don't give a darn.

A kitten after my own heart

2011-09-28T08:37:00.000-06:00

Mom, today I learned that I may have to fight Isis for time with my favorite Scottish Starfleet engineer...

Where are those Real Housewives when you really need them?

2011-09-27T20:28:00.000-06:00

Mom, today I learned that if I had a few "rich ladys" to give this guy, all this unpacking and painting would be a breeze.

Ch-ch-changes...

2011-09-26T15:07:00.000-06:00

As you may have noticed, I've been having a bit of a hard time keeping up with the blog lately. By lately, I mean for the last few months. By bit of a hard time, I mean, "Blog? What blog?"

Because I like to blog, want to blog, and feel guilty when I don't blog, I've been doing a lot of thinking to figure out how to get my blog posts up despite everything else that taxes my time. What I've realized is that the super structured blogging that used to be a help has become a hindrance.

I realized this as I attempted to launder my first load of clothes in our new house and found myself faced with a high tech washer/dryer set that not only washes clothes but can probably remove my tonsils and balance chemical equations.

Washing machines should not have more buttons than the space shuttle. They just...should not.

I realized that I wanted to write about that. I had all sorts of funny things to say about my fear and trepidation over this crazy machine...the way I approached it cautiously, like a rookie on the nation's most poorly funded bomb squad...the way I watched it for 15 minutes to make sure it was, indeed, capable of washing my laundry...my exasperated use of the word "newfangled" and my surprise that such a word would ever come out of my mouth (along with my invention of the word "oldfangled," trademark pending.)

But I couldn't just blog about my washing machine, right? Today is Outrageous News day. I have to write about an Outrageous News story today, right? So what if I have a great idea for a funny blog post that will be easy to write. I have a schedule! Readers expect me to follow my schedule!

And this is why I haven't blogged regularly in months. If I have time for an easy post, and I'm nixing that because I think I'm obligated to write a scheduled post I don't actually have time to write, then nothing gets written.

So, the schedule? It's gone...fired...finished in this town.

So, what can you expect from the Mother Load now?

I'll still do my best to post a "What I Learned Today" picture and caption because I like those, and I have enough silly pictures to last me until the end of the year. As for the other posts, I'll continue to write those as often as possible. The difference is that I will write them when inspiration strikes and when I have the time to do a good job. This means I might have 2 Stupid Product posts in one week and no Outrageous News post, or I might devote an entire week to smaller, silly, stream of consciousness posts. Either way, I'll be blogging a heck of a lot more often.

I do understand that many of you are still traumatized by the recent changes on Facebook, and changing the Mother Load might seem like one more insult into your already injured online lives. Just think of it this way: Changing the Mother Load means you get to actually read the Mother Load. Also, I'm cuter than Mark Zuckerberg, so that makes it okay.

Looking forward to a new start!

Off to check on the shuttle...I mean, washer.

The sad thing? It kind of fits...

2011-09-26T14:42:00.000-06:00

Mom, today I learned how some people spell "Richard."

Weird enough for Weird Al? Pleaseohpleaseohplease...

2011-09-02T09:23:00.001-06:00

Mom, today I learned that when it comes to getting Weird Al's attention at his upcoming concert, our family is probably more motivated than any other family.

(Author's Note: YES! WE'RE GOING TO A WEIRD AL CONCERT!!! AND WE'RE WEARING MATCHING T-SHIRTS!!! The spatula graphic was chosen for the "Spatula City" commercial in Al's movie "UHF". See below and enjoy! Also, feel free to be jealous of the fact that WE'RE GOING TO A WEIRD AL CONCERT!!!)

Are the two mutually exclusive?

2011-09-01T21:11:00.000-06:00

Mom, today I learned that this license plate can mean one of two things. a) This person has an abundance of Christmas spirit all year long. b) He got a C in Santa school.

Why it pays to be over ten.

2011-08-31T17:47:00.005-06:00

Mom, today I learned that painting is the dumbest project ever and it's NOT FAIR!

And Miriam and Cate are stupid-heads who get to do everything just because they're older.

Where did I learn such a thing?

Three guesses.

(Thanks to Evelyn for letting me tease her on my blog. She's really a sweet girl. She's just not loving the limits of her single digit age.)

You've Gotta See This: The Dark Knight Kills Christmas

2011-08-30T21:01:00.001-06:00

Ever see something that makes you laugh hysterically even though you're unsure why? This is one of those things. It's been on YouTube for a few years now, but it was only brought to my attention in the last few days, so I'm posting it here for those like me who didn't get to see its silliness when it was new.

This is definitely more fun if you've seen "The Dark Knight" and are familiar with Christian Bale's nearly unintelligible Angry Batman Voice. (We forgive Christian Bale because he's Christian Bale...and because he was so cute in Newsies.)

The closing credits are as much fun as the whole video.