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To Mormons, With Love
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LIFE! Drink. Every. Last. Drop.

Corbie Coy-Lopez is a friend I met because our kids go to the same school.  She has a mind that operates at Mach 5 and the physical ability to keep all the moving parts of her schedule running smoothly.  I've labeled myself as a life junkie, but Corbie's the real deal.  I'm a wannabe.  She's even going to AFRICA soon to do true philanthropic work.

Because I don't have a thingy (technical talk) on the side of my blog for links YET, and my dear friend, Betty, would enjoy learning more about the witty, fast-thinking Corbie Coy-Lopez, please allow me to introduce all who are interested to Corbie Coy-Lopez.  She's real pretty too.

Be careful though, you might get addicted to "life juice" and need to score yourself some - Corbie'll hook ya up.  Chug!  Chug!  Chug!

(Note:  I only know THAT vernacular because of books I've read and my husband who teaches me things.)


Girls Gone Wild

Mother arrived Friday from Arizona and returned home today.

Mom was here to celebrate my birthday, make sure the boys still know and love her, and get up to speed on our newest rules and regulations for the care and feeding of said boys. The two oldest will travel solo for the first time EVER this summer to spend a few days with Mom and Dad. 

Mom and I shopped, lunched, chatted, laughed, and played with kids. It was a nice visit.

On the way to the airport today, we got into one of those complicated mother/daughter things. The thing where you're having a discussion, both agree on what's being discussed, but it turns into (at first) a polite debate (about nothing), then a childlike girl-fight where we're windmilling at each other verbally...maybe I was doing the windmill. Doesn't matter.

Goes like this...

Me:  "It just cost over $80 to put gas in this car."

Mom:  "Well, you know, it costs me over $50 to fill up my little car."

Me:  "It's just ridiculous." (shaking head)

Mom:  "Europeans have been dealing with this for years."

Me:  "Yeah. At least in Europe, things are more community-centric."

Mom:  "Not really. They have large cities in Europe."

Me:  "My friends who are FROM Europe and tell me how things ARE there, indicate it's just 'different.'"

Mom:  "I have several friends from Europe...AND...I've been there." 

Me:  "I know...it's different. I'm just saying, like in New York, T doesn't have a car because he can use public transportation, take a cab, walk to the market. You know. It's just different."

Mom:  "Well, just wait until you see what happens in India and China. There's an affordable car that's being developed and almost EVERYONE will have a car and use ALL the gas."

Me:  "Apples and oranges Mom—I don't get what that has to do with what we're talking about."

Mom:  "You don't have to get defensive."

Me:  "I'm not defensive, Mother."

Mom:  "You sound defensive."

Me:  "Okay. I'm done."  (feeling defensive)

Mom:  "Christina, that's not..."

Me:  "DONE!"

Mom:  "Chrisy, you're acting..."

Me:  "DONE!"

Mom:  "You sound like..."

Me:  "DONE!"

Mom: "...A CHILD!"

Me:  "Mom, can we please stop?  My kids are in the car."  (I'd chosen to use my girl powers for evil.)

Mom:  "That's terrible."  (she said calmly)

It got quiet. For a long time. Mom and I love each other very much. It's a complicated and strong relationship we have. 

This silly story reminded me, even as it was happening, of one time when I was in my early 20's. We were discussing, then arguing, about nothing really. I remember saying, "Mom, you just don't know how to communicate effectively."

Mom said, "Well, you're not doing much better, Honey."


I love you Mom.  I'm sorry.


Drool Rider

I'm 42 today.  I share my birthday with a friend I used to lifeguard with in high school, Lynn P. Carlson.  She told me the "P" stands for "Pretty".

There are many fun LPC stories, but I don't have clearance from her to share.  Once, she may [or may not] have fired a bottle rocket from her butt.  Once, she may [or may not] have purposely drooled on me while we drove some guy's motorcycle.  If the latter happened, it may have looked like this...

A guy came to the pool on his motorcycle.  Kind of a "pool fly" guy -- just hung out to chat with the guards.  LPC said she knew how to drive a motorcycle and asked if she could take it for a spin.  She asked me [told me] to go with her.  We were in our guard suits, flip-flops and had towels around our waists -- no helmets.  LPC assured me she knew what she was doing, then we jerked our way out of the parking lot.  We FLEW on the motorcycle once we hit real roads.  I was terrified.  LPC was singing "Cool Rider" at the top of her lungs [from Grease II - we adored that movie] and the excessive saliva she was purposely producing unbeknownst to me, trickled back in my face.  Buckets of it.  She pretended she didn't hear me every time I screamed, "You're drooling on me!".  Our ride ended, we went back to work.  We laughed, I felt cool, and I loved that I could hang [sort-of] with LPC.  If that REALLY happened - it was fun.  I'll wait for clearance though.

One more thought on this 42nd birthday.  This is the last year I can contemplate military recruitment.  What do you think, LPC?  We could get in shape -- I love the idea of a uniform.  Oh.  Sorry, I forgot.  We were born on the same day, but darn-it, different years.  Happy Birthday, my older friend L. Pretty C.