The Lost Journal Series Part XIV

I just realized it's been a few years since I gave you a Lost Journal Series entry. I last left off in 1995. It's frankly getting kind of difficult to piece together the timeline at this point because for reasons unclear to me, I started keeping multiple journals at this time, sometimes writing competing and conflicting accounts of my prepubescent experiences. In any event, here are five entries I've just uncovered (both in written form, and a dramatic reading).

Horses

On Saturday we decided to take Ollie and Duncan for a hike. We drove to the Uintas an hour and a half from Salt Lake City and found an 8-mile trail on which we would hike 8 miles and Duncan would hike somewhere around 20 because of the constant sprinting ahead and then back to us and then ahead and then back to us forever and ever until we got home and he went into the house and immediately got his ball and dropped it at my feet so he could play a never-ending high energy game of fetch SOMEONE FIGURE OUT HOW TO HARNESS THIS DOG'S ENERGY TO POWER THE PLANET.

Duncan is great off-leash, as long as he doesn't see a motorcycle, at which point he will chase and attempt to eat it. But since we were in the mountains and far from any motorcycles, we didn't have to worry about this.

The trail we hiked was not crowded. We came across more cows than people. For some reason there were dozens of cows just wandering the area. Standing in the middle the trail. Standing next to the trail. Staring us down like we had invaded the farm.

The dogs didn't seem interested in the cows, mostly refusing to even look at them. The cows similarly didn't seem interested either. Nonetheless, I would typically scoop Ollie and Duncan up and carry them whenever we encountered the farm wildlife, mostly because I wasn't sure they had ever seen cows before and I didn't know how they would react.

Confessions

(Woot. Strangerville Live is next week. Get your tickets if you haven't already. Support Jolyn. She supports you.)

When I was 14, my older sister Krisanda offered to drive me and my best friend Sam to our local movie theater. I don't recall what movie we were seeing. This would have been around 1998. I want to say it was Titanic, but I know that Cathie McCann would never have allowed me to go see that film without her and her hand over my eyes so I wouldn't be tempted by boobs. Sam had been issued a similar embargo.

I don't remember why, exactly, but neither of us ever seemed tempted to break the rule and sneak in to see Titanic without our parents.

In any event, Krisanda offered to drive us to see a movie that was definitely not Titanic and certainly contained zero to negative zero boobs.

We were on summer break and it was a rainy day. Krisanda was in high school and had regular access to the white family Astro van, which was something of a sexmobile in the 90s.

We were free, independent, and cruising the streets of South Jordan Utah, nary a parent or guardian in sight, when suddenly, for reasons I still don't know to this day, the van swerved off of the road and into the front yard of a little house.

Cringe

A few years ago I was talking to my childhood best friend Sam's dad because he had stopped by Bob and Cathie's house for some reason. This was right before I moved to Palau and he was asking me what my job was going to be like in that country.

We talked for a while. And the conversation naturally moved to what I would do after Palau. I was telling him about how I would likely look for a job in the Salt Lake area but I wasn't sure, exactly, and that I hoped to find a good job before my contract in Palau ended.

We talked about those plans to look for a job in Salt Lake City for a while. I had expressed worry about not being able to find work. And then he said, "well, do you have any good contacts that could help you?"

And I said the following:

"Um . . . actually I don't wear contacts. I mean, I have these glasses, but my prescription is super weak. I don't really need them. But I like wearing them because I think they make me look smart hahahaha. I don't think I could ever wear contacts. It would be hard for me to stick something into my eyes."

The Perils of Sitting in the Exit Row

Last month I was in Chicago. I told you about that already because I don't believe in keeping secrets from you.

The weekend ended after several days of shenanigans with my childhood best friend Sam (shenanigans=gossiping about everything every person we went to high school with has ever posted on social media until 1:00 in the morning). And then it was time to go home.

Skylar had met us in Chicago because Skylar isn't like you and me. He lives on airplanes and when someone is like "I'm going to fly to India" he's like "ok I'll just meet you there" like you said you are going to the backyard to sunbathe.

I don't understand this part of him. I loath flying in airplanes with a hot and fiery passion. There is no person who is more angry in this world that Eli Whittlesconsin McCann waiting by the conveyor belt for a bag in the Boston airport after a red eye flight.

Did that sound like a very specific example? INTENTIONAL.

Because Skylar travels so much for work he has Holy Virgin Mary Celestial Kingdom Extraterrestrial Oprah Winfrey Status with Delta, which technically exempts him from all laws and allows him to use the U.S. military for any personal reason he wants. This means that Delta throws gold at him every time he even drives by an airport. And if twelve people aren't giving him a full body massage by the time he starts making his way down the jet-way, he has a random Delta employee waterboarded.

Romeo & Juliet

When I was in the sixth grade we had to put on a Shakespeare play. Our class was assigned to do Romeo and Juliet and I wanted to be Romeo so badly but the part went to my best friend to this day, Sam, who was a foot taller than all the rest of the kids.

Sam didn't really want to be Romeo because he was embarrassed about having to say love cliches to Juliet in front of his three older brothers who would most definitely make fun of him into oblivion after the show. He was so embarrassed, in fact, that he changed his final line in the play without telling anyone he was going to do it.

In the final scene of the 12-year-old version of the script we were provided, Romeo comes upon Juliet and thinks she's dead so he decides to kill himself (or maybe she really is dead at this point? I don't remember. I played the part of Tybalt, which meant that during this scene I was backstage practicing cartwheels with Melanie Jones. That's not a euphemism.).

Upon finding a dead Juliet, Romeo kills himself and in our script he was supposed to say, "with a kiss, I die." (Cue academy-award-winning death scene).

But Sam absolutely did not want to say "kiss" in front of his brothers. So he made an executive decision. And when the time came, he yelled out in the way 12-year-olds putting on a Shakespeare play do, "and with a breath, I die."

THE SCANDAL.

The Neighbor's Tree

One quick word on Strangerville Live: I did what the kids are calling "the social medias" and made an actual Facebook event page. Do us a solid and go join that page and invite all twelve trillion people you know to it.

Also, in case you need a reminder:

Then Meg Tweeted this:

Beethoven

So I'm sitting on the couch at Matt's house editing Meg's hilarious Bachelor recap and Matt is on the couch opposite of me next to two dogs who are probably fighting.

We have a record playing in the background because we are either hipsters or we're 75 years old (we are 75 years old. The record is Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, which is the only record collection Matt actually has in the house).

And suddenly Matt offered, without even looking up, "my first girlfriend broke up with me because of Beethoven."

A Friendly Reminder to Make Some Spare Keys

We all get to agree that 2016 was a weird year. I say "was" even though it isn't actually over yet. I'm confident in the statement anyway. Nothing can happen in the next few days to make 2016 not a weird year.

So it shouldn't have been a surprise when this morning happened.

It started snowing on Christmas Eve in Salt Lake City. Apocalypse snowing. Snowing so much that there is currently an avalanche risk in Ecuador.

I know we're supposed to just be super happy about snow on Christmas because all of the songs have manipulated us into believing that it makes the season more magical. But I will not be duped.

Snow is a necessary evil in my neck of the woods. I appreciate it for hydrating the land and cleansing the air. But it is not magical.

It is cold, wet, and it always feels vindictive. Like, I don't know for sure if God is using it as a punishment, but every time I see the first snow flakes of the season start descending upon us I can't help but wonder if it's happening because of all the trashy television I watched throughout the year.

Episode 11: The World of Guardians

We somehow made it through our first year of Strangerville. The learning curve has been steep, and will surely continue to be so. But somehow Jolyn and I have survived the year without

1. Killing each other

2. Falling (mutually) in love

3. Getting married for tax reasons

4. Getting divorced for tax reasons

5. Starting a band that specializes in Caribbean-themed bat mitzvahs

6. Destroying the entire internet except for the Spacejam website

7. Prison for more than one month

So as you can see, it has been a miraculous year.

When we started Strangerville at the beginning of the year we never dreamed that by the end of 2016 we would have obtained the reach that we have. And we have all of you to thank for that. Jolyn and I would have an illegal amount of fun putting Strangerville together even if our mothers were our only listeners (Cathie and Nancy? You are listening, right??? You've been awfully quiet lately. We know where you live.)

Airbnb

I'm having some sort of midlife crisis recently, one that I don't have the stamina to try to explain right now. It's causing me to make some rash decisions. For example, I started a furniture-making business with Adam despite having never ever made furniture in my entire life.

The furniture business was a result of a series of panic attacks wherein I suddenly became extremely worried that for irrational and illogical reasons I am going to (a) lose my job, (b) become incapacitated, (c) zombie apocalypse, (d) The Queen of Colors, (e) etc.

I just suddenly became really worried that I'm not being smart with money and that I won't ever be able to retire or provide Tami the lifestyle that she demands.

My friends are extremely worried right now. These are actual quotes from them over the last month:

You need to pull yourself together because I'm counting on you raising Ollie when I'm dead.  Matt

If you become an Uber driver I'm taking your keys away.  Skylar

Please don't start selling your body.  Cathie

Halloween Costumes

I love Halloween like a fat kid loves cake. And when I was a child I was actually pretty creative when it came to Halloween costumes. I got this gene from Cathie, who I swear to you made Crayola Crayon Halloween costumes for me and each of my three sisters in 1989 and had us march up and down the street together like a box of crayons.

I was blue. My sisters were purple, pink, and orange. Cathie had the foresight not to make a "white" crayon costume and then have all of the neighbors wonder why one of the McCann kids was allowed to dress as a Klansman for Halloween.

A Colorado Wedding

My childhood best friend Sam asked me a few weeks ago to officiate his wedding in Colorado, a wedding that happened on Saturday. Obviously I immediately began preparing FOR MY SPECIAL DAY. This included my ordination as a reverend in the Church of the Holy Internet.

Ok, I don't actually remember what the thing was called. All I know is that Sam sent me a link to some page where it took me literally four minutes to fill out some basic information and receive a certificate that bestowed upon me enough power to legally bind people to one another for life.

It was almost disappointingly easy to obtain this power. It kind of makes me question all authority considering that the following things took more effort in my life to obtain than a certificate authorizing me to marry people to each other:

1. My food handler's permit when I was 15
2. Costco Membership
3. Ringworm
4. Respect from my mailman
5. "I Voted" stickers at any election
6. Etc.

As you can see by number 6, the list could go on and on.

A New Flaw

I've been having this really weird problem lately so I texted Sam about it because he's an orthodontist so I insist on going to him for all of my medical needs.

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

Matt thinks he has Ebola and I've been very insensitive about it each and every time he calls or texts to provide me unsolicited updates. I've been working exactly double the amount of hours every day that even exist in a normal Earth day and so I've become extremely run down and now I think I have contracted the Ebola from Matt and I'm very upset by this. I just called him to yell at him for spreading disease to innocent people. But somehow I ended up instead just telling him I'm coming over to cuddle with Mr. Pants if I can ever get out of my office.

I think the southern accent throws me. It pulls manners out of me I didn't even know I had. Bob and Cathie really should have tried using southern accents on me when I was a child.

And now, your Pictures & Distractions:

Mr. Pants and Mr. Scraps picked me up at the airport last week and it was amazing and we all peed a little. 

Visiting Sam

I'm visiting Sam in Boulder this weekend. Well, that's a lie. He lives in a place called "Broomfield." I don't know why I put quotation marks around that word. It looks like I don't trust that that's what it's really called. Which, maybe I shouldn't trust that that's what it's really called because I haven't seen any signs so I really am just putting my life in Sam's hands. And I don't know how much I can trust him.

He swears this never happened but when we were ten years old I was at his house after school playing some game we made up in his basement, which game is one of many we will take to our graves to ensure we are able to have friends during our lives. Well I noticed it was 5:00 and Bob and Cathie had said I needed to be home by then for dinner because I guess we were old people in Florida. And if there's one thing I knew about Bob and Cathie it was that there was a decent chance that if you were late to something they would have replaced you with another child and changed the locks by the time you got home. Not that any of us were allowed keys to the house.

We really left our entire fates in Bob and Cathie's hands.

The Lost Journal Series, Part XI

Because it's been a while.

February 15, 1995 (10 years old):

Ironman Boulder, 2015

Young Wade and I stayed with my childhood best friend Sam who lives just outside of Boulder. I dragged Young Wade out of bed at the witching hour on Friday morning so we could make the eight-hour drive from Salt Lake City. If Young Wade ever speaks to me again after the number of times I required him to be awake before most people even got to bed this weekend, he shall be given an automatic Nobel Peace Prize.

On Friday and Saturday we wandered to and fro, checking into the race, packing the many gear bags, and dropping things off at the transition areas for the Ironman that would begin bright and early Sunday morning.

Bob and Cathie rolled into town Saturday afternoon after texting me 300 times throughout the day to ask whether I was staying calm. Hashtag worried parents.

The questions were fair. I have been less-than-calm in the last few weeks, although I’ve tried desperately hard to fix this. As you know, Ironman has been a very long and often terrifying and devastatingly disappointing process for me.

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

Rebecca has been out of my life for two weeks now and I'M NOT PLEASED. I haven't heard much from her. But last weekend she called me at some probably illegal hour, because that's the only time she ever calls me, and left a very long and confusing voicemail in which I heard such phrases as "flood!" and "excessive water damage!" and "my hair is very pretty!" and "and don't you dare say this is a girl who cried wolf situation!"

I waited 48 hours to text her, asking if she was ok. She responded that whatever the crisis was, she got it all worked out and not to worry.

You guys. Why did it take me this many years to figure out the trick to avoiding Rebecca's disasters?

But gosh I miss her.

And now, your Pictures and Distractions:

"Bad Influence"

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

My five-year-old niece Emrie, formerly known as "the niece who hates me," called me tonight to ask if she can come sleep over at my house. Our relationship seems to be on the mend lately. Any communication she used to direct at me tended to be judgy and acerbic. Suddenly it's pleasant and cordial. The only thing that's changed between us? Emrie came to my house one time and saw that I have a laundry chute.

I FINALLY HAVE SOMETHING IN MY LIFE SHE CARES ABOUT!

I'm thinking about trying to resolve all of my strained relationships with the same medicine. Someone get Oprah on Facetime so I can demonstrate how the chute works!

Fingers crossed that times are changing between me and Emrie. I'm going to need to be on her good side so she can take care of me when I'm old and wandering the neighborhood confused and naked. Right now, nobody is taking responsibility for it and I don't want that to be the case in another 40 years.

And now, your Pictures and Distractions.

That bone never had a chance with Mr. Ollie Pants.