When Can I Take My Spanks Off?

Our friend Jennie was invited to be on a show about blogging on BYUTV. They flew her out from Austin, gave her a rental car, a hotel room, and a per diem. As part of her segment, they wanted to have her meet one of her blogging friends IRL. She chose me, which was nice. Even though I feel like I've already met her. So last night I went to the LDS Motion Picture Studio to be in a really short segment where I "meet Jennie."

The evening started as I found my way from the parking lot to the studio and a truck drove by and splashed a big mud puddle into my face. I thought I would be working with students from KBYU who were practicing with a pretend show. I asked my "producer" what her major was and she told me she wasn't a student, she was a professional. I guess it was rude of me. Then again, I was there and not at home eating beef stroganoff and wearing pajamas so I feel that she should give me the benefit of the doubt.

I was immediately sequestered so Jennie wouldn't see me. Maybe you think I'm being really modest and down-playing something that was extremely glamorous and enviable. I sat in the break room alone for an hour.

It was decked out in sweet mid-century modern toaster ovens.
Someone has a crush on Edward!There were professional bloggers there to be interviewed for the show. I could hear them cavorting with Jennie. Later I met them briefly: Kadi, Mindy, and Daphne.

Eventually someone came to put a microphone on me and give me an earbud. They re-use the ear buds, by the way. The sound guy didn't really respect my modesty. I was embarrassed because I was wearing my Spanks, which are flesh-colored and come with bra-spenders. I did not want to expose them to the professional producer. But I think she saw. I didn't care about the sound guy because he was fat. (I mean, surely he wouldn't judge me for wearing Spanks.)

Then I waited on a couch by a little Moroni statue for a while. Next to the little Moroni statue were even littler ant traps.

The producer gave me a card for free dinner at Cafe Rio as payment for my time. Cafe Rio is a thrill and I appreciate it. Remember when I was talking about how you might think I'm minimizing my role in all of this and playing it down to sound humble about my TV appearance?

Jennie: flight, hotel, gift basket, rental car, per diem.
Kacy: Cafe Rio gift card, lonely break room, ant traps, mud puddle.

Things picked up after I met Jennie. When I came out I said, "Jennie, I am real." I don't remember anything else. It was short. The other bloggers were interviewed individually about blogging professionally. I noticed that the teleprompter said this:
I guess it is common to abbreviate on teleprompters because it said "everybody" instead of "everybody except Kacy." So when everybody [except me] went back on TV I sat alone in the make-up room for a while and then I thought, "Oh. I guess I can go home now." So I did. Later I got dessert with Jennie. It was probably the most glamorous part of the night [for me] [but not for her].

Before everyone [except me] went back out to the couch Jennie and I got to hang out a little.

My second favorite thing about that night was when Jennie got me a Diet Coke out of the cooler. (My first favorite thing is that gray wig in the background.) I learned something about myself that night at the LDS Motion Picture Studios.I learned that I like to boss Jennie.
What can I say? It was quite a night.

My Dailies

A few days ago I read a blog about another blogger's daily schedule. Her day was busy but charming and productive. It made me think of my own dailies. Some days are more productive than others, of course. And some days are much, much less. Yesterday I had a migraine so I stayed in bed literally all day and by "literally" I mean all day except when I was taking birthday treats to Maggie's class and Sam to the orthodontist. It wasn't charming at all. Neither was it an example of me putting my children first in spite of my pain. I may seem long-suffering--a real trooper, but my excursions on my children's behalf were fraught with gagging, yelling at Ellen, apologizing to Ellen, holding back tears, nagging, and pointing out how messy the house gets when I am down for "just ONE day. . . this is what it is like if I don't pick anything up for just ONE DAY."

You might be picturing me weary but loving at the orthodontist's office, murmuring softly to entertain Ellen while we waited--perhaps with a story or a song. Instead, I slumped in the chair and stared straight ahead doing nothing, looking at nothing, and saying nothing--but I did have the presence of mind to look away when I saw someone I knew from high school.

Not all days are like that though. Here's a typical day.

6:00am: My husband's alarm starts going off. He pushes snooze again and again for up to an hour. I am enraged.

7:15am: Ellen comes in begging and crying for "sushee" (cereal) in a purple bowl. I drag out of bed and put on a sweater because while I do all of the unkempt schlepping most mothers of toddlers do, I also live with kids who are old enough to notice if I'm braless. It's like having people around all the time.

7:45am: Sam is driven to school by me or my husband, so I usually put on some kind of pajama shoes at this time.

8:00am: Maggie and Ben leave for the bus. They miss it about half the time. So I usually keep my pajama shoes on for this. On a good day, Ellen hasn't gotten any potty on her yet.

8:30am: At this time I might do dishes and straighten up, but a lot of mornings I've been trying to fall back to sleep since 6am so I lay in bed and let Ellen watch Charlie and Lola.

Before 11 usually: I take a shower if Ellen lets me. She's gotten into this cute habit of throwing a fit and screaming, "Don't take a shower! You can't take a shower." It's easier to wait until she's in a better mood because then she lets me.

12-1pmish: Naptime. It might be more predictable if Ellen actually ate lunch, instead of bags of a variety of cereals and crackers, but I take what I can get. And then I lay in bed and blog.

2:45pm: Sam always calls to see if I will pick him up from school. It's 5 minutes away. Sometimes I say yes, unless Ellen is asleep.

3:45pm: Maggie and Ben arrive home with notes, homework, stories, fighting, hunger, and a pile of junk. Before you know it, their friends are at the door. I have to decide whether to get my kids out of my hair, or deal with requiring chores before they play. It could go either way.

6pm:I have to make dinner. Again? Geeze. I am enraged.

8pm: Bedtime. I get into my pajamas and read/blog/watch TV. I often leave dishes in the sink for the next day, which contributes to the mood in the morning. Christian is usually home by bedtime, or safely at his church meetings, or at other meetings he has volunteered for, or helping someone who needs him.

It's a crazy life. But it's our life! (And I haven't even mentioned the dog and what a pain it is.)

RubyEllen (see her "dailies" above) wakes up her children at 8am. They take a nap from 2-5 when she wakes them up again. I don't think I've ever awakened one of my kids on purpose. Ever.

Maybe you have some tips for me about planning my schedule. Maybe you think I should be more proactive about showering. Maybe you think I should do a lot of things differently than I do. Maybe you should shut up.

Until I had Ellen, I used to teach English at BYU. I really loved it and always planned that one day I would return to it full time. These days, I hope to never do it again-even in those twilight years when "all my kids are in school." We'll see.

Here is my dream schedule.

Wake up when I want, how I want.
Take a shower whenever I get up with no one in the bathroom with me or screaming at me or waiting for me.
Straighten up--and have it stay straightened for a long time.
Go shopping and buy whatever I want. In this dream, I am rich and I get to try things on leisurely.
Eat lunch. I would even eat a healthy lunch.
Come home and take the dog for a walk and read a whole book.
Then I go out to dinner with Christian.
Then I go to bed. In my dream, there is always a new Lost on and Project Runway goes year round.
In the morning I wake up and do it all over again.

Dream Jobs

Here are some jobs I would really enjoy if money, child care, and ambition didn't matter. These are jobs I think I could do with my current skill set and talents, with a reasonable amount of training:

Waitress at a Diner
Librarian
Professional Playlist Maker
Farmer
Cowboy
Priest/Nun
Bridal Consultant
Cashier at a grocery store (if uniform isn't dingy)
TV Producer
Secretary for a General Authority
Magazine Editor
Real Estate Agent

And here are some jobs I think I would really enjoy but they would require significant training and I would have to acquire totally new talents that I don't currently possess:

Dentist
Rock Star
Tailor
Architect or Interior Designer
Golf Pro
Taxi Driver
Painter
Knitting Teacher/Etsy store owner

And Then There's Sam

Sam is my oldest. Sam was my first. It's not that he's my favorite--I truly don't have a favorite and that's the truth--but he is the most like me. Of course, I hate myself--so in a way Sam is the opposite of my favorite. Anyway, he's 12. Our feet are the same size, which makes me feel like a petite, feminine mom with a strapping son. Even though I'm not. Sam is really great, interesting, thoughtful, reliable, and old enough to not want to be blogged about, probably. We don't always get what we want in life, do we son? Lesson done.I have learned so much from having a son because I never had brothers. Mostly I'm learning about scouting and the importance of precooking tin foil dinners but the other thing that is dawning on me is that I can NOT BELIEVE I was in love with 12-year-old boys when I was 12 and--more than that--I expected them to reciprocate. This notion horrifies me now. You mean, those boys I fantasized about marrying had just started to wear deodorant and still watched cartoons like, every day? It's so weird that every year I hoped to get a Valentine. I never did--it was disappointing then, but now I know 12-year-old boys just don't do that or think like that. They are completely oblivious. It would have made me feel better to know that. I'm sure there is someone--probably someone very nice--who is in love with Sam and thinks that maybe he will give her a valentine or ask her to dance. I hope she has brothers and understands but if she doesn't, here's what I would tell her: Don't take it personally.

Feel Better About Your Chubby Knees

Put on some tights and have a great day! You're welcome.

Happy Valentine's Day to Lisa Valentine

Look! I got Lisa every cliche Valentine's Gift there is:

Lisa's Cliche Valentine by Kacy Faulconer featuring Monsoon accessories

Not because she has never had a romantic Valentine's Day, but because she supports me in my desire to dress like a female House, in other words, a non-gay Ellen. Did anyone else get some good stuff at the Gap 40% off sale yesterday? I was able to make my dream of dressing like a female House/non-gay Ellen come true.

Female House by Kacy Faulconer featuring Old Navy t shirts

I'm familiarizing myself with Polyvore--do you like the little titles underneath my collages? There must be a way to delete them. They remind me, in a way, of a feature I just noticed on Amazon.com. It's called a "pay phrase" and I guess it is some kind of randomly-generated codeword you can use to check out quickly. I really like what they came up with today: "Kacy's Sensitive Career." I'm all, "How did they know Deseret Book decided to stop underwriting my professional blog today?" Uncanny! True.

Anyway, if you were at the Gap yesterday you might have overheard me telling Lisa over the dressing room wall, "These pants are great because you know how I always want to dress like a. . ." and then Lisa said, "female House?" Aw. Friends.

I Missed You at My Ward Christmas Party a Few Months Ago

Does it look like a winter wonderland? Good. That was the plan.

Ellen was at the end of her rope by the time dinner was served. But she turned on the charm for Santa Claus.

Fresh delicious salad. I don't like salad very much but I like bagged salad even less. A wonderful woman named Ellen cut up the veggies for this salad. I gave her this job because she is new in the ward and her name is Ellen, like my daughter. She got sick and couldn't come to the party, but the salad was (presumably) uncontaminated.
Here is the activities committee sneaking cake in the kitchen. Yes, we coordinated our outfits with each other and with the centerpieces on purpose. That cake is from Maglebys. It is surprisingly affordable (ever priced out pie for a ward party?) And that was not the first or the last piece I ate of it. In fact--and I can tell you this now--I put a box of it in my car while the Relief Society was packaging up the other leftovers for a funeral the next day. What? You think I'm going to hell? MAGLEBYS CAKE IS MUCH TOO RICH FOR THE BEREAVED.


That is my bishop. Can you believe how cute he is? He's married to my co-committee chair--Awkward! Just kidding. It's not awkward. I mean, it's not like I'm in love with him. What? Seriously. I'm not. It's just rare for a bishop to be so handsome.Except in the case of my friend, Mark Magleby, who just became the bishop of my old ward. He too is extremely good looking. I'm totally not in love with him either. Why--does it seem like I'm in love with him? That is so weird because I'm totally not. Anyway, it was a great party and my wonderful ward photographer gave me these beautiful pictures even though he just had surgery. Look, I never said it would be easy to be my ward photographer. I only said it would be worth it.

What's with the rash of handsome bishops?

Want to know more about bishops and ward Christmas parties? Send me your address and I will send you something. Or someone, or two people--companions to be exact. Merry Christmas!

Happy Maguary

My oldest daughter turns 10 this month. Allow me to introduce you to Maggie.
I tend not to post a lot of pictures of her--not on purpose, but I think subconsciously I fear an internet weirdo will fall in love with her. She is very beautiful. We are not, actually, very much alike--at least not when I was age 10. She is well-liked, advanced in school, in style, graceful, cool. I was none of those things. I would probably have been a little jealous of her if I had known her in 4th grade, but I think we would have been friends anyway. She would have been good for me. She's good for me now. She is like her father, Christian, who is also good for me. If it were just me and Sam, we'd sit at home never talking to anyone and never doing anything except making playlists and watching X-Files.

She is named after my great grandmother, Margaret Jackson. Mostly she goes by Maggie, but at home we sometimes call her Marge. Of course, Ben calls her Eddie Overwide. As for why he calls her this, I don't know. From a very young age Maggie has been indispensable to me. She is extremely sensitive and when I am at the edge of my rope (manifest by lots of sighing) she takes care of Ben and Ellen. Sometimes it makes me feel like a bad mom to let her, but then I tell myself she must have learned it from me so that makes me a good mom and I shut the door and turn on the TV.

10 Things About Maggie Who Will be 10 in 13 Days

She has impeccable taste. This trait can be learned, but in Maggie it is innate.

She loves to eat out.

She loves eavesdropping. (I guess she is like me.)

She is usually grumpy in the morning. (I guess she is like me.)

She is becoming obsessed with dogs. (I guess she is like me.)

She is clever.

She pays attention to people.

She has olive skin.

She can eat a pound of burrito from Del Taco.

Her impressions of people are spot on.

We will be celebrating Maggie all month here at my house so please feel free to send her some thoughtful, handmade, unique gifts! I don't see why she is any less-deserving than any of the Pioneer Woman's or Dooce's kids. (I know, right?)

Books I Read in January 2010

Instead of writing a long, rambling, multi-part series about the books I read all year I decided to go month by month. So here's what I read in January.

The Art of Simple Food by Alice Waters
This is a cookbook, but I read it straight through. I like the idea of it, but I just don't like salad as much as Alice Waters. I haven't tried any of the recipes yet. They are probably good. The food at Pizzaria 712 is good and they like this book so, you do the math.

Last Night in Twisted River by John Irving
I just really like John Irving, sexually deviant characters and all--what can I say? It's always interesting when he writes about a writer, as he does in this book. Its' not life-changing or anything. Just good writing and an interesting story. A Prayer for Owen Meaney is better.

*Loving Frank by Nancy Horan
This book is compelling but troubling because I don't buy into the "new morality" Frank Lloyd Wright and his girlfriend try to promote. To me it was just a sad, sad story of two families that are broken up by an affair. But the ending!? Holy cow. It's a super shocker. And the architecture stuff is good. I do recommend this book. But the characters kind of bother me. I'd be interested to know if they bother you, too.

Manhood for Amateurs by Michael Chabon
This is a book of essays. Some of them are really priceless.

The Art of Raising a Puppy by The Monks of New Skete
I'm so obsessed with these monks!

And finally, The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan. Yes. I know I'm the last person in the world to read this. It's pretty good and pretty interesting. I like Pollan's approach and suggestions and I do wish the conditions under which my food is grown were more ideal, but I couldn't help but feel a little bit impressed by the innovation of food scientists. I mean, high-fructose corn syrup? When you've got an abundance of corn--it's not a bad idea. This is how I feel--I can't help it. I read Michael Pollan and I'm impressed by food scientists. I watch Avatar and I'm repulsed by the special effects. At any rate, this book made me want to keep chickens and not abuse them. Maybe I could foster some chickens.

That's it! That's all I read in January. If you have a suggestion for a book you think I'll like, let me know.