Criminal Trespassing…

There are a lot of things I could blog about this past week.  Activities galore happened up in this joint.  There was the fundraising comedy night for a sweet little girl with cancer where my friend and I got heckled by the comedian for sitting in the wrong place.  I’ve never been heckled by a comedian before… twas tres hee-larious!  I probably would have been uncessarily totally mortified as a teenager, but it’s funny how maturity totally makes you not even care.

There was choir practice for our upcoming big concert with Alex Sharpe (from Celtic Women fame) wherein I sat for 10 minutes while the orchestra played “Feed the Birds” wondering where I’d heard the song before!?  Oh my Alzheimer’s disease, Gertle!

There was my madre’s birthday shindig where I touched actual raw chicken, gloveless, like a boss whilst making dinner.  I still shiver to think about it… dead poultry in my hands!!!  After which I washed them for 30 minutes straight in scalding water.  Et tu, Chicken!?

Thank you for madre’s birthday brownies sweet Tara and family!  We had double dessert with my grilled pound cake with ice cream and raspberry sauce.  Happy Birthday to my favorite Madre!!  She who taught me everything I know and everything I think I know but really don’t!  I hope this year brings you many more fond and happy memories!

There was the annual sleepover extravaganza 2015 with Makayla and Corbin wherein we criminally trespassed onto a miniature golf course and then waded waste deep in deer, bird, and bug sewage in the backyard canal.  Oh summer…   Back to the criminal trespassing.  It’s a tradition that we go to my favorite old (and I mean OLD) miniature golf course.  A place I’ve been going since I was a kid.  It used to be kept up and had all sorts of fun elements.  As the years went on, it got more and more rundown and less and less kept up.  Last year when we went, it was still open, but it was self-serve and pretty crapified looking.  This year when we arrived, the gate was all locked up and everything was in shambles.  It looked like post nuclear bomb crap in that joint.  We were a little disappointed, until I found an opening in the fence next to a live wasp nest where all I had to do was remove the chain that was wrapped around holding the fence together and we were in!  Voila!  Try to keep me out… I graduated from the school of breaking and entering… and there wasn’t even any chocolate to get to on the other side!

This picture was last August 2014’s sleepover extravaganza.  At least they had a totem pole then… and golf balls.

This year, 2015 there was this:

Nasa’s missing a rocket.  Also, they only had one golf ball… ONE… and so Makayla had to golf with a crab apple.  I’m telling you… I bring the ghet to the word Ghetto!  We went to the Minions movie instead… a foreign film without subtitles!  :P  You’ll only get that if you’ve seen the movie.   The night also included our traditional jaunt to McDonald’s, Ryan’s Place Park, and Island Market!

The next morning, they were supposed to go fishing at the fish farm, but when they arrived there it was closed until noon, so instead they came home and waded through the backyard canal full of all sorts of pleasant dirt and animal waste.  To get into the canal, we had to go down by the bridge where it was a bit shallower.  The bridge is on the road, and after half an hour of supervising the wading activity standing in the hot sun, I opted to bring out my camp chair.  It must have been quite the sight for the passersby to see some large chic sitting in the hot sun by the road in a camp chair staring at the canal like a psycho patient.  They couldn’t see the kids in the water from their vantage point… just me and my chair.  That’s how we country-fried folks roll, yo!

All in all, we didn’t get arrested and my pride is still intact despite looking like an idiot 12 times in a row.  It’s a gift.

***

I’d be remiss if I didn’t send out love and hugs today to my sweet Berger family as today is the 1-year anniversary of sweet Spencer’s passing.  I’m thinking of you all today.  Sure do love you guys.

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Connicky Babies…

That’s called a mish-mash title.  I mish-mashed my topics into one convenient made up phrase that’s actually a take on another real life phrase… and oh boy can you see my sides splitting!?!?!?  What’s that?  You’re absolutely right… I’ll never do that again.

This past Wednesday we ran up to Salt Lake City to Red Butte Gardens in order to glimpse us some Harry Connick, Jr. action!  Seeing as I’ve pretty much had a crush on him since I was 12 years old, it was well worth my tripping.   Oh, Harry Connick!!  I should probably note that more than the Harry Connick show was a real life family soap opera happening right in front of us.  I decided to call it As the Schmuck-Wads Turn and I’ll be selling it to whatever station wants to air it… probably whatever station airs the Kardashian shows… so that I won’t have to watch it… PASS!  So, Harry Connick was crooning away and I was watching some chic who looked like an older version of Miley Cyrus wash down 15 bottles of wine in a metal goblet and then get sloppy drunk and start bawling and arguing with her family members.  She was in her 30s with young kids and her older dad had to take her by the arm and escort her off the lawn.  She disappeared somewhere but other family members (it looked like a whole family reunion with siblings and their families) kept having counsels with each other about what to do about her wherever she was off crying.  I don’t know what happened at the end of the episode, but I’m pretty sure it probably included a bathroom stall and someone holding her hair back whilst she vomited.  OH THE SUSPENSE, KIMYE!!!

Back to the concert… couldn’t see the Harry-friend very well seeing as I was sitting so dagnabbed far away, but he was as funny as ever… kept commenting over and over on the sun radiation blinding him in a mountain setting and the fact that there was a rainbow mid-show… apparently they don’t get rainbows or mountains or sun radiation in New Orleans where he’s from.

The rainbow he was forever commenting on.  Fun fact… it rained pretty much all the way on the drive down to SLC and then it rained pretty much all the way home from SLC that night, but for the few hours of the concert, even with black storm clouds over head, it didn’t rain.  Lindsay’s hairdo thanks you!  :P

A clip of Harry singing It Had To Be You.

A clip of Harry singing The Way You Look Tonight.  

*****

This past Saturday I held a baby shower for Lindsay’s relations and close friends/co-workers.  Well, me and Madre did.  Apparently planning a baby shower for a fashionista when you be from the back country ain’t easy.  I was all about the owly owl and polly pocket theme, but obvs that wasn’t going to cut it at a baby boy shower… the nerve!  Instead we settled on mustaches and arm pit hair… except without the arm pit hair because that’s just nasty.  Madre made her famous cinnamon rolls and lemon blueberry rolls and there was fruit and candy, so basically everyone should effectively have cavities and diabetes by Tuesday.  You are welcome.  I’ve always been a giver.

Thank you to all of the friends and relations who showed up on a busy holiday/summer weekend!  I know Lindsay appreciated y’alls kindness and thoughtful gifts and advice on account of the fact that when she babysat as a teenager, her method was to tell the kid to SHUT UP I’M WATCHING MY STORIES!!!!!  Good thing for maturation, right!?  She’ll be an excellent mother… already is an excellent step-mom so she’s had practice!

The cavity-inducing spread!

I individually cut out and hand wrapped all of these because I’m a factory worker now.  It was fun for an hour.

The big brothers of the new baby… they’re wearing wrapping paper bows… they have so much to teach their new lil’ bro about fashion.  Move over Lindsay!

I really don’t have permission to post all of the individual people pictures I took, and if I did I’d be sure to get carried away and post them all… so I’ll stop here!  Showering babies is a good thing… before and after they’re born.

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Summer?

Y’all realize it’s almost August which is almost the start of fall?  Because I feel like I haven’t done anything summery all summer.  I’m missing out!  There have been no late night rendezvous with the mosquito tribes and no cricket listening sessions.  There have been no wilderness visits and no traipses amongst the wild flowers of my beloved Tony Grove.  There have been zero accidental sunburnings (by accidental I mean stupid-ental) and no muddy shoes to show I’ve traipsed through a corn field.  There have been no crick hopping sessions and no dam visits, dam visits, y’all!  Y’all… that’s a crime!  I also realize it’s like I done turned into cuzzin Betty Sue in this here post with all my y’alls and such, but it’s that serious, y’all!

Time is like a thief… by the time you wake up on Monday morning, it’s Friday and you’ve forgotten what you’ve done all dang week.  Just me?  Good to know… the men in white coats will have something to go on this time.  I figure I ought to turn the fact that I haven’t done anything summery all summer around, but it’s also like there is no time to do anything summery because it would require me to quit my job and school and move to a Yurt in the mountains next to Griselda the wicked witch and Bobby Joe the hermit, which I’m totally not against because I always say I’d make a great wicked witch/hermit.  Hansel and Gretel wouldn’t know what hit them!  I’d still require a shower and a grocery store… ain’t no way this hermit be killing her chitlins with her bare hands… so it’d be more like a pampered hermit.

As soon as this week is over… it’s on… summer… full dang force!  Bring it Bobby Joe and Griselda!

Question of the Day:  What summery things have you done so far?  

I call this next sequence of pictures:  The Joys Of Siblinghood…

My plan was to take a picture of Makayla’s farmer’s market because she charged me 500 bucks for ONE apple!  This picture was actually take 3… only because takes 1 and 2 turned out like this:

The surprise!

The annoyed sister face…

Brings me back to my young days.  Lindsay… remember all them times you sabotaged my farmer’s market!?  Good times… good times…

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Adult Status…

You wouldn’t know it to look at me… okay, you’ve looked enough… but I’d consider myself a fairly picky eater.  There are just some foods I haven’t acquired a taste for no matter how many times I’ve eaten them… meat (bloody STEAK gives me the willies), fish, smelly cheeses, weird mushy things like cooked squash, bananas that aren’t green, and most things that shouldn’t be eaten in public anyway (FISH EGGS, I’M LOOKING AT YOU RICH PEOPLE)!  That’s the short list.  If you want to the read the long list said no one ever, consult with my 5-year-old self.

Blue cheese and some greens (i.e., the ones that taste like dirt) were on that list until I discovered the wonder that is Wendy’s strawberry fields and chicken salad.  Um… what!?!?  Basically they put down a bed of weird lettuces (by weird I mean anything that isn’t considered iceburg or romaine lettuce) and then top it with grilled chicken pieces, blue cheese crumbles, strawberries, and an apple vinagrette dressing.  Take me to heaven, Nancy Sinatra!   Whitney’s now eating and enjoying mold and dirt!  STOP THE PRESSES, FANNY PACK MAKERS!

Pretty sure this means I’m entering into a sphere of adulthood.  Only took me 30-some-odd years to cross it but I have a feeling if I keep this up, pretty soon I’ll be dancing around an alter I’ve made of prunes and arugula whilst moo-ing with my cowly bloody-steak-providing ancesters.  If you need me, check the caviar aisle.  Grey Poupon my rear receptacle! 

It’s a “limited edition” salad and also costs more than I like to spend on meals, so I attempted to make my own version.  Eh… it wasn’t the same, but it will do as a substitute.  Wendy’s must have magical salad-making fairies… either that or by the time I got done making and cutting up everything I was too tired to care about my homemade salad.  I’m going with option B.

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Root Beer Floats and Playtex…

My mom’s going to kill me after I finish this blog post.  Nice knowing you all.  If you could get me a nice plot near the chocolate factory, I don’t think I could even complain about the maggots.  But it’s such a cute story… it has to go down for posterity sake.  This post is to celebrate your cuteness, Madre!!  Take it and like my girl Beyonce used to say… Girls… we run the world.  That made more sense in my head than on the computer screen.

We had a gathering for the city firework show on Friday night late.  Some of my awesome cuzzins got together and partook in desserty items before we hijacked the neighbor’s backyard to watch the firework extravaganza (not gonna lie… pretty sure at least 3 of them were drunk ON LIFE… the neighbors, not the cuzzins).  So, we were eating our desserty items on the back deck and gabbing about really important things like mosquitoes and ducks… and sunsets… and various other things like boomboxes (yes, the folks still have one).  I was sitting next to cuzzin Kale, so I intermixed my Berger klutz gene with her Berger klutz gene and we managed to drop an entire root beer float into her lap.  THANK YOU… I’m here all week.

Being the nonhelpful being I am, I went inside the house and wet down some paper towels… like that would magically erase the stickiness.  Madre was inside and so I asked her if she had any wet wipes and then went back out with my wettened paper towel glob.

Next thing we know, Madre is back out the house and in front of John Deere tractors and country fried steaks everywhere, she plopped the following down right next to the fruit pizza and vanilla ice cream container:

Now, maybe some of you from the other gender will not know the real purpose of these suckers… and I can guarantee you Madre thought nothing of it… totally an innocent romp through trying to be helpful to the root beer stickiness sufferers, but the whole end of that picnic table burst into laughter.  Every time I think about it I burst into laughter.  Like I’m seriously laughing right now (maybe it’s because I borrowed a little sumthin sumthin that was making the neighbors so dagnabbed happy).   Madre was all like… “I ain’t had a baby since 1980… you think I have wet wipes!?!?!?”  Apparently, my mom talks like the grandma from Beverly Hillbillies in my head space.  Needless to say, cuzzin Kale passed on the wet wipes.  Good call, cuzzin… good call.

***

And just so we even up the parental embarrassment unit, here’s something to give you nightmares:

He’s apparently angry about being a clown fashion model… and I’ve had a nightmare every night since.

Happy Belated Fourth of July, dear friends and family.  Thank you to all of those who have served to make this country free for the rest of us!!

LucyFur awaiting further instruction after I made her memorize the Pledge and the entire Constitution.  And you thought your pet was smart.

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“With Every Job When It’s Complete There Is A Sense of Bittersweet”

‘Tis done.  Except for one more evening tomorrow starring as the cleanup/set-striking crew, Mary Poppins is in the past tense.  I’m feeling conflicted.  On the one hand, I’m grateful to not have to feel so hectic trying to fit everything into a day, and on the other hand, though I kicked and screamed and thought I wouldn’t do it over and over and over, it turned out to be a great experience for me.  I don’t step out of my comfort zone enough… I just don’t.  And the fact that I conquered my weird social anxieties (with plenty of awkwarding up the joint), my non-dancing skillz (let’s face it, Whitney loves to dance, but dancing has an aversion to Whitney and often makes her look like a seizing walrus cub), my extreme fear of ruining a production, and being fitted for and wearing a costume is like a monumental thing in my book of Whacky and Out Of This World Weird Issues and Aversions (Hitting shelves the 9th of Neverember).

I cannot say enough about the kindness and patience shown me by the lot of the cast and crew.  The directors, choreographers, and musical directors who took me under their wings and taught me about owning my actions, the wardrobe mistress who was so kind and non-judgmental, the cast who put up with my corny nervous frittery jokes and still accepted me anyway.  The leads, Sarah Huff and Tyler Whitesides who don’t own a mean bone in their entire bodies, extremely talented, gracious with their time and compliments, and absolutely ZERO egoes… which can also be said about every last one of the folks in charge of this beautiful musical… behind and in front of the scenes.  It is an experience I will never forget… and one that I will look back on with fondness.  My part in this production was so very miniscule, but I was always made to feel like we were all a part of this fabulous thing that had record-breaking audiences during all 8 shows.

I had a friend say to me who has seen nearly every broadway show known to man (we call her the “ticket lady” Hi Karen)… “The difference between this production and a professional broadway one is a feeling of love.”  She said there was so much love and warmth and feeling behind each of the characters on the stage, and she never gets that from the Broadway productions because they are in it for the money.  I’ve thought a lot about that since… and it’s true… everyone who worked on this production did it because they loved the work.  They loved acting and singing and dancing.  They loved creating sets and costumes and marketing advertisements.  They loved the behind the scenes stage crewing and making things run like an oiled machine.  It was a production full of a lot of heart and warmth and LOVE. Four Seasons Theatre Company is a gift, Cache Valley people.  I hope you all support future productions from these wonderful people.  They deserve all the accolades they get!

****

I had so many wonderful family and friends who showed up.  I love and appreciate you all… every last one of you whacky wonderful wildabeasts.  I’d name you all individually, but I know I’d forget some and then the list wouldn’t be complete.  I also could have kicked myself that I didn’t think to take more pictures.  It’s always the after thought!  Here are a few of the ones people did take and send me…

My darling cuzzin’s kids, Baylee and Owen (Hi Mark and Jenalee)!

My other darling cuzzin’s, Makayla and Corbin (whatup, Angie and Ryan)!

My momma!

My sweet best bud since we were 10 and she whacked a soccer ball at my nose and broke my glasses (no hard feelings, obviously), who just so happened to win the award for furthest traveler to attend… Alena and her oldest daughter Kayla came from Wisconsin!!  They came for other things too, but the sweetness of this girl cannot be matched y’all!

I also met some fabulous new friends in this production, which I also didn’t get many pictures of!

The delightful Stephanie (aka Mrs. Lark) and her bag of peanut M&Ms.

The delightful Leann who was patient enough to teach me the ropes!  (sorry… I had to cut my face out of this one… I looked like the dude from The Goonies squinting into the camera… note to self… wear glasses).

The delightful Cece who put up with my sarcastic jabs and then jabbed right on back (she also never washes her face… obviously).

Some of the beautiful ladies (inside and out) from the “band room dressing room”, Tara, Leann, Amy, Rory, Rachel, some bird woman, and Stephanie.

Thank you all for making my experience that much better.  I am blessed to know some top notch, cream of the crop, non-whackadoodle people!  Keep on keeping on, friends!

PS – For remembering purposes, I meant to post about the snafu I had on closing night.  During 7 of the 8 productions and all 4 of the technical and dress rehearsals, I had absolutely no issues with my microphone.  NONE.  It just so happened that on the final night, my mic did not work when I started to sing.  I felt something was off when I started singing but couldn’t put a finger on it until I realized that there was no vocal projection.  Heck if I knew what to do, but the pro that is Sarah Huff (Mary Poppins) sprung into action, walked over to me and knelt a few inches from my face so that I could be picked up on her microphone.  Did I tell you, no ego on that girl?  We weren’t able to do any of our normal acting or blocking of the scene as we had to be so close together to share her mic, so I’m sure it looked a bit weird and awkward, but that she had the presence of mind to come over there and knew what to do was a neat experience.  Afterwards I heard talk that she said no one had to tell her to walk over… she felt she was prompted by the spirit to walk over and help me out, and she heeded that feeling.  Thank you for sacrificing your performance for mine, Sarah!  You are a gem of a person!

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The Fountain of Not Youth….

What’s the opposite of youth?  Not youth.  Write that down and then leave me the flim flam alone.  Most of you have heard the following story… some of you several times… and the people that have heard this story before are all going to be like, Whitney… shut your baklava hole… we are soooo over this story!  And then I’m going to be like… Stop it… I’m so not over this story so I’m going to yammer on about it until the cows come home.  Question… how often do the cows come home and is it more or less than once a millenium?

Back story… this past Thursday afternoon a handful of us from the Mary Poppins cast jetted on out to the Summerfest to sing some of the songs from the show for advertising purposes.  I jetted along with the handful to sing my bird number, and we all wore our matching show shirts pictured below.

In case you can’t see it very good it’s Mary Poppins holding an umbrella drawn with a bunch of the words from the production.  Anywho… so I was wearing that shirt.  My mom happened to jet on over during her lunch hour to listen to us and so when the singing was done, I was walking with her when we ran into this lady who commented on my shirt and asked how she could get tickets to the show.  I went on this 8-hour long (read: 2-minute) spiel about where she could get tickets, even going so far as to write down the web address and phone number she could use.  The following is our conversation in a nutshell.

Knit Whit:  So, go to fourseasonstheatre.org and you can buy tickets there.
Lady of Doom and Gloom:  What building is fourseasonstheatre.org in?
KW:  It’s not in a building, it’s on the internet.
LoDaG:  What building is the internet in?
KW:  The internet is not a building… it is on a computer.
LoDaG:  Oh… (at this point she turns to my mother next to me and asks ME) Is this your daughter?
KW:  ($#&$(W*$W)$U(U*($u($W) aka:  The thoughts running through my head.

So, basically, I arrived at the Summerfest at noon 36 years old and I left the Summerfest at 2:00 86 years old… give or take a year.  My mom has been gloating about it ever since but I might as well just shrivel up and stick my head in a vat of Crisco…  If I look 50 years older than I really am, I need to see a plastic surgeon… or walk around with a bag on my head.

By the by… the lady asked me where I lived 12 times in the space of a 10-minute conversation, so I’m thinking she might have other issues than just being technologically challenged and a poor guesser of age.  Either way, I’m guessing neither she nor her magical children will be coming to Mary Poppins any time soon.  What building is that in, dearie!?!?  MOVING ON!!

Opening weekend is in the record books.  It was nerve-wracking, fun, HOT, challenging, and a good way to jet out of my zone of comfort.  Here’s my 86-year-old self wearing the top half of my bird doo lady costume… as you can tell by the expression on my face… it is hot!!!!!

Yep… totally flattering… but all I can do is bow to the wardrobe mistress, Kim for making a costume to fit this body of doom and gloom.  She’s a magician, basically!

Dress rehearsal for one of my favorite scenes (Step In Time)… Only 5 more shows…

PS –  Thank you so much to all of my sweet family and friends who mosied on to the shows so far… even if all I basically do in it is turn the hall light switches on and off backstage.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again (not as many times as I’ve already told the above story, though), I have some awesome people in my life… I’m very blessed you all put up with me and are so supportive.  THANK YOU ALL!

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