We Are Very Angry With Matt

Matt has decided to move away from us, which is absolutely a hate crime and an act of terror. He sprung the news on us a few months ago.

"I'm buying a house in Las Vegas because I hate you and refuse to consider your happiness as I make my big life decisions." 

Ok, he didn't say that last part out loud but that's what I heard nevertheless. 

Obviously we are not pleased with Matt leaving us, but we are even more not pleased with his outrageously unfair decision to take Mr. Ollie Pants with him. Ollie has tried to remain neutral in the matter because he doesn't like to see humans at war, but I'm certain he's devastated about the whole thing. 

The move is happening at the end of the month and since Matt already sold his house in Salt Lake City, he has taken up residence in our basement temporarily. Or so he thinks because he doesn't know we've purchased chains and an incredible amount of dungeon equipment that should keep him in place for many years to come.

He showed up over the weekend with a bed he decided he doesn't want to take with him on his move of betrayal. We spent the better part of the evening folding a queen sized mattress in half and shoving it down the narrow set of stairs in my house that was built for malnourished 19th century pioneers. Now he's spending the week cleaning stuff and fixing shit in an effort to fool us into not being mad at him. And we hate that this is working.

A Good Finder

A couple years ago I found this film about dating and marriage produced by BYU in 1956 and I talked about it on Strangerville when I did the four-part series on old Mormon films. Well, I finally built up the stamina to recap it, with screenshots so you can see how exceptionally hot one of the protagonist's suitors was. 

You can read this real doozy of recap here. Also, shoutout to Josh Fowlke, our artist at The Beehive, who once again created the perfect piece of art for this recap. 

In other news, my husband, the man who vowed before God to love and worship and support and never criticize and always agree and suffer in silence for me, attacked me out of nowhere the other night. 

There's an ongoing debate in my home about whether or not I'm a bad "finder." Skylar includes "good finder" at the very top of his list of positive qualities he believes he possesses. This topic comes up every single day.

Skylar: Will you please hand me the cumin?

Eli: I don't see it.

Skylar: Did you move stuff around?

Eli: I don't have to because it's not here and that would be a waste of time.

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

We are so very overdue for a Pictures & Distractions post and I have some fun stuff to share with you. So here it is. 

Matt turned 40. The birthday bash wasn't quite as big as we had planned, but, you know. Pandemic.

Eternal Vine

My parents have this Jumanji vine consuming a whole side of their house. They planted it back before the war when they were young and dumb and so full of hope and purpose. Now they reserve all three of their annual swearwords for the phone call I receive this time of year in which they put me on speakerphone and scream about how much they hate the vine while begging me to come climb a ladder to chop it back.

I always go because I'm the official Son Of The Year, every year. (And I'm always so gracious when I receive the award and I'm like "I don't deserve this. This really should have gone to Beyoncé." But then I keep it.)

The vine has now grown so high up onto the house that Bob & Cathie have had to buy ladders from NASA previously only used for engineers to climb up to the International Space Station for repairs. We plop the ladder onto the side of the house, I climb up through the clouds, and Bob & Cathie stand below as I chop and drop long pieces of vine onto their heads with reckless abandon. This always feels really disrespectful but I was a pretty well-behaved teenager so I think the karma evens out.

Last week they called me said they had had it with the vine and they were ready to take more drastic measures. Typically we just chop back the new growth. Now they wanted to pull half of it off of the house and then not let it grow above where they can reach "so we don't have to keep calling you" which now that I'm thinking about it, are my parents disowning me?

Anyway, Duncan and I showed up at their house yesterday evening ready for our farm chores. I climbed the ladder and started yanking and pulling and eventually I discovered that the upper part of the vine wasn't really attached very well to the house because suddenly a wall of matted English Ivy started folding off of the house in one solid piece.

Rotations

Skylar started his "rotations" this week, which as I understand it roughly translates to "wander around a hospital trying to look busy so no one asks you to clean up poop."

His first rotation is in gynecology. They do these rotations in part to help the students try to figure out what kind of doctor they want to be. I already nixed gynecology for Skylar after I imagined a likely future scenario in which he calls from work every evening and says "I got gabbing with my first patient—she was a GODDESS—and then missed all the rest of my appointments for the day so now I have to work until 4:00 AM."

When he first started medical school I made a lot of jokes about what kind of doctor I needed him to be—all motivated by selfish reasons, of course. The list included only specialties that could give me access to cheap elective cosmetic surgeries and an ocean of botox. After a while I became worried that my jokes would get taken seriously so I way over-corrected and started giving a weekly speech about how I didn't care at all what he did as long as he was happy. Within 24 hours he started leaving open on his laptop applications to professional improv groups.

Ok, that last part isn't true, but if he had enough time right now to be funny it would be.

The point is, I need him to make us all look young again but I need him to think it was his choice. That way I can seem pretty and supportive.

Indogpendence Day

Yesterday was Independence Day (happy birthday, America. Sorry your party sucked.)

Normally we throw a Fourth of July party where all of our friends come over and lick their hands and touch each other and cough into our open eyes but we decided not to do that this year because, you know, Rona.

The lack of social engagements in 2020 has been a super interesting thing for this extrovert who has knitted two sweaters, three scarves, a hat, and has run nearly 1,000 miles in the last three months and I'm sure none of these things are related. But honestly, I've settled into this and I've been able to find joy in the lessened social chaos.

I'm still working from home and plan to maybe forever? We've seen my family here and there, but not much because Bob & Cathie don't want us to give them the Rona. I have a lot of friends who are worried about their parents and grandparents because they don't feel like they are taking social distancing and mask wearing, etc., seriously enough. I'm grateful that I haven't had that problem with my own parents, but I wouldn't mind having Cathie come over and make comments about my yard that are definitely compliments but worded just so I'm not confident about that ("Oh! I would have never thought to plant a rose bush that close to that tree that I didn't realize people liked!").

We miss our old folks.

Our Mountain Vineyard

My husband has decided to turn our backyard into a vineyard.

I found out about this when I overheard him asking Matt if he could borrow several power tools, which he called by their proper names, like "that drill thingy and that saw thingy." He had called Matt and I heard the conversation from the next room over. The second they hung up Matt called me to let me know that Skylar had plans to destroy something. That's what good friends are for.

Skylar told me he was going to drill some holes into a wall at the back of our property (a wall that does not belong to us) so he could attach some wire contraption to some long screws and somehow wrap wire around this so he can grow his alcohol and sin like he thinks we live in Napa Valley NOT THAT WE KNOW WHAT NAPA VALLEY IS.

The saw thingy was apparently for an unrelated kitchen demolition project which has since been completed and I've tried not to ask too many questions because my new thing is letting disaster befall me without wasting energy on fruitless attempts to stop it. #2020 #apocalypse #INeverSpellApocalypseCorrectlyOnTheFirstTry #yolo

Twilight: A Comprehensive Review

A couple weeks ago I finally sat myself down and watched me a Twilight and friends, I am so confused.

I did it so we could record this episode of Hive Mind. I watch a lot of . . . unique programming because I'm commanded to do so by Mob Boss Meg.

Somehow I had gone eleventy years from the time the first book came out until a couple weeks ago with almost no exposure to the Twilight universe. Basically all I knew about it was there were some books about a vampire that were converted into a series of films where the muscles in Kristen Stewart's face were completely paralyzed.

That's honestly it.

And then I sat down and started this film. Matt came over and watched it with me. He was sort of tricked into it. I had texted him "come to my house! I'm ordering Chinese food and watching a classic movie!" The moment it started he began yelling at me in such a strong southern accent that it retroactively changed the outcome of the Civil War.

This is basically the plot of this movie:

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

Hi I just took Duncan outside and he didn't want to walk in the snow so he just stood on the patio for five minutes so I walked into the snow to show him it was ok and I pretended to go potty in the yard in hopes this would encourage him to do the same and it did not work and he just stood there and watched me and in the process I stepped in dog poop because it snowed before I could get out and clean up the month-worth of dog poop back there so now it's all buried in snow in places I can't see MERRY CHRISTMAS.

And now, your Pictures & Distractions:

Snuggle times with Mr. Pants

Our Snowy Graveyard

Last week we went to Vancouver Washington for Thanksgiving. Skylar grew up there and all of his family still lives in Vancouver or across the river in Portland so the whole place has become sort of a second home for me over the past several years.

I don't know what possessed us to decide we should try to drive this time. We did this for Christmas in 2017 and the drive from Portland to Salt Lake City through a 300-square-mile blizzard on un-plowed roads was so terrifying that ever since I've been about 25% convinced we may have died and we've just been living a Sixth Sense unfinished business ghost situation. Which would really piss me off considering that I've been going to work and doing laundry for the last 2 years like some alive idiot.

I guess we mostly did it because we wanted to bring Duncan. We invited Matt and Ollie to come along, too, and so we just sort of thought it would be a lovely coming-of-age story about three friends and two dogs who drove across the country and learned some things about themselves along the way.

It all started to fall apart before it even began. Skylar bailed on us a few weeks before we left, deciding that since he was done with school several days before Matt or I could leave work, he would just fly one-way to Portland early to spend more time with his mother. I suggested he sell his umbilical cord to pay for his ticket and he thought that joke was very funny but didn't show it at all and instead glared at me and stomped out of the room and then later his mother told me the comment wasn't appreciated. The point is marriage is going extremely well.

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

Apparently Bozo the Clown died. Matt just told me and then scolded me for asking who that is. Which reminds me, I called Skylar "the ol' battleaxe" last weekend and he said he had never heard that term before and didn't know what it meant. I think this means I married a child? The thing is, I didn't even know this was an old phrase.

This is almost as bad as when, a mere five days after our wedding, I referenced "the original Parent Trap" and he responded "the one with Lindsay Lohan?"

I'm telling you. Nearly got divorced that day.

And now, your Pictures & Distractions:

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

I haven't done Pictures & Distractions since before the war so here you go. I know you've been praying for this. You know mamma doesn't like to let her babies down. And neither do I.

So, yeah. Your Pictures & Distractions:

"hi can we com in end talk 2 u about jeezus"

Flu Shot

Last week Matt texted me.

"I guess you don't even care that I'm DYING."

He does this from time to time. Not the dying thing, specifically, but the "I guess you don't even care" followed by some news he's just sharing with me for the first time. It translates to "ask me about this." It's a very healthy form of communication for a nearly 40-year-old man.

I discovered upon inquiry that Matt had the flu. This was a Friday and we were supposed to sheet-rock or something-manly his basement that evening, but since he was no longer up for it I told him I would just come over and make chicken soup BECAUSE I AM MOTHER TERESA but also because I have no social life and Skylar was studying and I'm terrified of loneliness.

So I showed up to his house with a 5-pound chicken and some vegetables. It took until 9:00 to finish making dinner, which I had started referring to as "European Soup" so the timing would seem intentional.

Matt was looking worse by this point. He was shivering and had completely lost his appetite. So after giving him the "AFTER I SLAVED OVER THE HOT STOVE ALL EVENING FOR YOU" lecture, I got into the car and went home.

Photos of People Having an Authentic Time at my Wedding

I'm going to give you a bunch of details about the wedding with some actual wedding photos, etc. in the coming days. But for now, I want to leave you with this gem.

In the chaos of the morning and the photos with family and friends, someone took my phone. I think it was in my pocket and it was suggested I remove it for the pictures. I don't remember, really. It was all a whirlwind.

At the end of the wedding, my friend Caitlin handed my phone to me, saying she had it for a few hours and "don't worry. I took lots of pictures of people having a very authentic time."

I thanked her for her thoughtfulness and took the phone. On the drive back to the house I started looking through the photos she captured and discovered, well . . .

Homohood of the Traveling T-Shirt

I got in trouble tonight. We went to Matt's house to pick up Duncan because he and Ollie have been on a 7-day back-and-forth sleepover date.

We pass the dogs between our two houses because we've decided they are sad when they aren't together because they are probably distantly related. How we know about our canines' complex emotions and preferences is unclear, but the point is, they have them, we know what they are, and we are willing to grossly inconvenience ourselves to acknowledge them.

Going to pick up Duncan wasn't the mistake, though. The mistake was what I was wearing.

I'm living something of a Homohood of the Traveling T-Shirt with Matt, Adam, and Skylar right now. Our version is much more competitive and deceptive than the one from those novels.

You see, Adam had this t-shirt that Matt stole when he discovered it fit him perfectly. Adam saw Matt wearing it one day and asked for it back because, although not the exact same size as Matt, he said the same t-shirt fit him perfectly.

I took it from Matt's house one day after working in Matt's yard with him and wanting to change my clothes. That's how I discovered this magical shirt fit me perfectly.

Mean Girls

Someone taught Matt how to use the internet so now he's employed one of them what-the-kids-are-calling "apps" to turn all of us into women.

Snapchat? I think it's the snapchats. Or maybe the instagrams. Or myspace. I don't know. What I do know is he can apparently take our pictures and have us re-imagined as a different gender.

And so, today, in the middle of a work day mind you, I got a text from him that just said "It's a very busy day today!"

Then about a minute later he followed it up with this:

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

We're babysitting Mr. Ollie Pants this week because Matt is in "Miss'ippi." What this means is I've got a very judgmental dog following me around all day every day looking up at me like he's disappointed and I know this makes me sound a little crazy but I've been cleaning more than usual because of it.

IT HAS HUMAN EYES, YOU GUYS.

See below in this week's Pictures & Distractions:

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

I do this plug from time to time because I'm needy and I like attention and compliments: apparently the internet gods treat you differently when you receive positive podcast reviews. I don't know what happens exactly, for the internet is Satan's realm and we are a righteous people, but I'm supposed to periodically beg you like a man without pride to go to wherever you listen to your podcasts (iTunes? Is that a thing?) and leave Strangerville a review. If all y'all could do the same for The Beehive, and reference Hive Mind specifically, Meg will have another baby this year and name it after all of you.

The SuzzzzzmyRoseomesauslee has a nice ring to it.

So, yeah. Go do that, por favor. Then please enjoy some Pictures & Distractions:

I just found this old picture of Duncan and now I want to go give him so much kisses.

Matt's Stairwell

[Strangerville Live is THIS FRIDAY. Please get your tickets, if you haven't already!]

I think I may be the victim of the world's most elaborate prank. When Matt bought his house a few years ago I swear he promised me that we were just going to do a little remodeling. Since then, we have gutted so much of the house that I'm not actually sure there is a single original brick or piece of wood left.

The problem with being the silent brooding artistic genius that he is is that he's never satisfied with the way things are. "JUST LEAVE WELL ENOUGH ALONE" I want to scream at him every time he lets me know that he's torn down another wall or ripped out another light fixture or demolished his entire yard.

He knows what he's doing, so he's able to do most of the projects himself, which is good because he is satisfied with no contractor ever. I want to call and issue a warning to anyone he hires to help him.

"You can't get away with woefully sub-par work at his house like you can at mine," I would like to tell these people. "Matt's not the pushover you're talking to right now."

It's true. I've hired contractors before. They could literally burn my house to the ground and accidentally bring in a colony of rats and I would be like "THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE HERE'S 12 MILLION DOLLARS."

Pictures & Distractions

I haven't done Pictures & Distractions in a while and I don't know if any of you care but I miss it and I'm feeling 1% less lazy right now so here you go.

Also, speaking of not being lazy, please don't be lazy yourselves and get your tickets to Strangerville Live. The show is next Friday all y'all. And you know I literally never say that. Jolyn and I both promise nudity if you come. Meg promises modesty. Our promises cancel each other out.

In other news, it's Valentine's Day and Mr. We-Don't-Celebrate-Valentines-Day-In-THIS-House-So-Don't-Get-Me-Anything woke up early to make breakfast and give me a sentimental card. After I read it and told him I thought he said we weren't celebrating he yelled "THAT WAS A TRICK SO I COULD PROVE THAT I'M BETTER THAN YOU!"

So things are going super well.

And now, your Pictures & Distractions: