from the mixed-up files of a middle-aged mind

f you’d been a fly on the wall (well, technically somewhere over the VoIP) this is what you would’ve overheard the other day while I was at work: Ring. Me:  Hello. Burgundy London; this is Dalene, may I help you? Caller X:  Hello, I’m calling from Lackawanna. I just want to let you know blah blah blah blah blah. Me ( thinking I’m ending the call ):  Sure. I’ll be happy to take care of that for you. Thank you for calling. Caller X:  Dalene. That’s an unusual name. Me ( still thinking I’m ending the call ):  Yes it is. My parents made it up. Thanks for…( read: end of story. ) Caller X:  Irish. “Lene” is Irish. You’re not Irish are you? Me ( still trying to end the call and figuring there is no point in explaining it’s not Irish; it’s Intermountain West. All the other offices of my company already think we’re weird here because we are sober. ):  Nope. I was firstborn; my dad’s name was Dale. Dalene is simply Dale with an “n-e” tacked on. ...

I interrupt this program to bring you urgent  breaking news  of the very best kind. Then you may return to this regularly scheduled programming. ( My apologies. I realize this makes two memes in a row and indicates a complete lack of original thought. But I couldn’t resist the complete randomness of this one, so I gave it a go: ) My roommate and I once… used to frequent Punk Night at The Palace. (Hey, I could Rebel Yell with the best of them.) Never in my life have I… been to the opera, a Justin Timberlake concert or a clam bake. I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything, do you? High school was… so long ago! But so much fun. I had friends in every crowd, which made it easy to have a good time. I also have lots of stories. I probably shouldn’t mention any names when I mention one of our teachers who tried to hit on a couple of us (not at the same time). Ewww! When I’m nervous… I feel like I’m going to throw up. I also forget people’s names just a tad more than I u...

Recently I was tagged by the lovely  café johnsonia  to participate in a marriage meme. As you know, I can’t resist a good meme, so here it goes: Where did you meet your husband? BYU 122nd ward, comprised of one-half of Centennial Apartments. And, you guessed it, twice we served together as counterparts in various church auxiliaries. But we didn’t really want to have anything to do with one another. Does it get any more cliché than that? What was the first thing you said to your husband? I truly have no idea. But according to him it was the third week in April, 1983. I was sitting on the floor in a lower floor apartment on the outside of the complex, at the home of Jay Jorgensen, whose little sister Janelle was my roommate. Shane came over to tell Jay’s apartment about an upcoming softball game. We all exchanged casual “Hi’s” and that was it. He doesn’t believe me, but as he was recounting the details it did all come back to me. What I remember best was that 4th of ...

ou may remember a few months back when, in a conscious effort to take better care of myself I subjected said self to a  nuclear stress test . Well, my “be good to you” saga continues. A few weeks ago I got to have a sleepover. It was at the sleep medicine clinic at UVRMC. The reason I signed up for a sleepover is because I have suspected for several years I might suffer from a certain sleep disorder. And I’ve been in denial about it until the latest family reunion, when I saw my aunt, who also suffers from this disorder, have to pack around an oxygen machine. (I did a three-week stint with home oxygen back in ‘01. Trust me, you don’t want to go there if you don’t have to.) So I met with a pulmonologist and booked me a night at the sleep center. I arrived at 9:15 p.m. one night, half expecting to sleep on a gurney while a bunch of white-coated technicians watched from a one-way window on the second floor and recorded my every move . But the room was rather like a bed and breakf...

Eighteen years ago today, after 29 hours of labor and 2 1/2 hours of hard pushing, I watched as my OB’s office nurse–who had come on her own time to be with us during labor and delivery–climbed on top of the bed, got on top of my belly and literally pushed a reluctant first child down and out into the world. We named him Luke. There is something to be said for an oldest child, who basically is born to parents who don’t know any better, but who must sort through sheer volumes of unsolicited advice and most likely a parenting book or two in order to essentially learn how to parent as they go. And so it was with Luke. He somehow survived his colic and my post-partum depression to grow up and be a normal, happy and curious child. Some of my favorite memories of Luke are playing in the laundry, telling bedtime stories (not read, but made up–he loved them) and watching him chase butterflies during his first couple of seasons of youth soccer. He grew up to become quite good at soccer a...

Eighteen years ago today, after 29 hours of labor and 2 1/2 hours of hard pushing, I watched as my OBs office nursewho had come on her own time to be with us during labor and deliveryclimbed on top of the bed, got on top of my belly and literally pushed a reluctant first child down and out into the world. We named him Luke. There is something to be said for an oldest child, who basically is born to parents who dont know any better, but who must sort through sheer volumes of unsolicited advice and most likely a parenting book or two in order to essentially learn how to parent as they go. And so it was with Luke. He somehow survived his colic and my post-partum depression to grow up and be a normal, happy and curious child. Some of my favorite memories of Luke are playing in the laundry, telling bedtime stories (not read, but made uphe loved them) and watching him chase butterflies during his first couple of seasons of youth soccer. He grew up to become quite good at soccer actual...