and now... A Downer.

It courses through my mind like a Hindi Mantra.

Be fashionable, but live simply.

Stop and smell the roses, but always be on time.

Be dependable, but learn to say no.

Pamper yourself, but put the kids first.

Be consistant and flexible.

Pray with him.  Pray with them. 

Pray alone.  Then pray again.

Keep the kids groomed.  Support local business.

Dote on your husband.  Keep your home spotless.

Develop your talents.  Be a school volunteer. 

Be politically active.  Build your career.

Decorate.  Meditate. 

Excercise.  Moisturize.

Clip coupons.  Read for pleasure. 

Take up new hobbies.  Be a good neighbor.

Do community service. Landscape your yard.

Plan family outings. Send thank you cards.

Get a degree, then go get another.

Nurture your friendships and visit your mother.

And somehow still find the time to study  your religion, sleep 7-8 hours a night, eat 5-6 small meals a day,  stay culturally informed, force your kids through chores and homework, put away all the laundry before it gets cold, write in a journal,  and keep the championship ring for Amant Sensationnel.

It's ridiculous how many things I left OFF of this list.

HOW.
Can someone please tell me?

HOW is this done? How am I going to survive it? I think I'm slowly going mad. I hardly sleep anymore. I rarely sit to eat.  I'm more organized now than I've ever been in my life, and I'm still losing things, forgetting things and running chronically 20 minutes late, which is SO frustrating!  I have pages and pages of 'To Do' lists. I'll check one thing off the top as I add three things to the bottom.

I know this is the most unoriginal complaint in American culture.  I know that the solution is to prioritize.  But putting them in order of importance absolutely assures that the things on the bottom will never actually reach my life.  There literally are not enough hours in a day to do it all!  So WHAT gets left out?  My home?  My body?  My mind?  My family?  My community?  I'm really not OK skipping any of that! 

Am I demanding too much of myself, or is this how it's supposed to be?  Do men face the same kinds of challenges?  Is there anyone out there who has figured out how to pace themselves to manage the weight of it all?

Someone please save me from drowning in this pile of To Do.

A Cautionary Tale for the Excessively Vain

Considering my sizable vanity, I'm shockingly unconcerned about aging.  Don't get me wrong, I'm planning on putting up a fight.  But I'll do it naturally and gracefully.  That's always been my attitude, and is still the plan.  Even though, this year, the skin around my eyes got the memo that I'm now in my 30's, and has since started seriously slacking.  Honestly, not a huge deal.  But it has brought something to light that wasn't so obvious before.

My eyes are each completely different shapes and sizes.  No, seriously.  My left eye is bigger and rounder, while my right eye is smaller and more almond shaped.  It's BAD!  And it gets worse every week it seems!  The first few times I noticed it, I thought it was a fluke.  But  it's getting to the point where I almost don't even like seeing pictures of myself.  We certainly can't have THAT now CAN WE!

So I started analyzing why my face would be aging this way.  And after about 4 hours of staring at myself in the mirror, it hit me!  When I was very young, I realized I could lift my left eyebrow.  I thought it was the coolest thing ever, so I worked the 'one raised eyebrow' into my repertoire of expressions.  I've been doing it for years.  I don't really think about the face muscles much.  But really, every time you pull a face, you're working a muscle.  What do you think would happen if every day you lifted weights with your left arm, and never with your right.  You see where I'm going with this?

I immediately began a daily brow flexing regimen.  I stared in that mirror and willed my right eyebrow up.  mmmnnnngggggrrrrrrr.... rrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhrrrrrahaahahaaaaaa!!!!

NOT GONNA HAPPEN.  It's like the muscles don't exist!  I saw my face 40 years from now, the right side all old and shriveled, and completely buried under folds of skin.  Then the left?  ALL EYEBALL, zipping around like the great eye of Sauron.

NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

FLLLLEX!  FLLLLLEX!  I have been working on that eyebrow every chance I get, breaking a sweat standing there doing nothing but willing that darn muscle to work.  After a month of consistant brow flex time, it actually responded!  Shuddering up a fraction of an inch for a fraction of a second.  I fell to the ground in tears, thanking the maker for my second chance at graceful aging. 

Now I can raise my right eyebrow on cue, though I still have to hold my left one still in order to do it.  Strange I know, but hey.  It's a work in progress.  When the stakes are this high, I'll do what I have to. 

So kids, the moral of this story is simple.   Every face you pull is shaping the aged mask you will DIE in one day.  So smile easily, scowl with care, and FOR THE LOVE  ... do it on BOTH sides of your face!

Status Report

Hey there Stranger.

Remember me?


How's that for an ice breaker!



You know you need to reprioritize your schedule when you find a block of VELVEETA CHEESE in your fridge that has gone bad! VELVEETA! The cockroach of cheese! I actually managed to kill it! I didn't even know that was possible.

Another sure sign of over scheduling is when you love to write, but haven't done so in MONTHS. I have had the most incredibly eventful year, and all of it is blogable. But my time constraints have forced me to take what used to be a lovely, provocative, 4-6 paragraph blog post, and condense it into a one-sentence status update on Facebook. I don't even know where to begin bringing you guys up to speed, so I'll just deliver the highlights Facebook Style: One sentence per topic.


I started painting with a wonderful artist who is mentoring me through my first art series on canvas.

I lost all my extra pounds and, according to my Doctor, I am now my ideal weight!

I flew out to a singer's/ songwriter's workshop, recorded a song in a gorgeous studio, and had some very positive feedback from a Simon Cowell Type producer & writer.

My baby boy started Kindergarten!

Business is BAD BAD BAD and I HATE this EFFING recession.

I'm taking piano lessons in an effort to learn to play chords and write basic accompaniment for the songs I've written.

I tossed my whole life upside down when I decided, on a whim of course, to paint my living room, entry way, hall way, stairwell, salon, guest bath, upstairs hallway and my kids' bathroom ALL IN ONE WEEK.

I have reignited my passionate love affair with old leather-bound books.

My favorite little brother got to come stay with me during his brief L-o-A from the Army.

My favoritestest new BF is teaching me the ropes of couponing, and my eyes are being opened to the wonderful world of MAJOR SAVINGS!

I'm learning that excessive couponing and budget restriction makes me tremble and sweat like a junkie, and a frivolous SHOPPING SPREE is the only drug that kills my pain.

I went on a major spending spree and did some serious decorating in my house, which is looking more and more like ME with every passing $$$.

I saw Wicked for the first time, (LOVED IT!) and it's been playing in my head ever since.

While our boys were on a campout, Shiney and I got up at 5 am for a girls trip to the San Juan Islands... and then I proceeded to LOCK US OUT OF THE HOUSE with no coats, no food, no money, no car keys - until the boys got home that afternoon.

I had a pregnancy scare that lasted just one morning, which is good because I was moments from tampering with my own brakes and taking a drive up Mount Rainier.

I got an I Phone!

I realized on an entirely new level that I am really really bad at not getting what I want.

I discovered a box of craft items in my garage, and within a week I had over a dozen Suburban Housewife Secrets revealed to me from a variety of sources. Coincidence? I think NOT! Everyone knows crafting is a Housewife qualifier! I just broke my "one sentence per topic" rule.

I have become completely focused (well... as focused as a scattered arteest can be) on getting my life organized, and MUCH has been affected by this effort.

Jonathan decided he could be a carpenter if he wanted to, so he BOUGHT ALL THE POWER TOOLS (do you hear the pain?) and he BUILT ME A MUD ROOM!!! (do you hear the bliss?!)

A few honest conversations and some zany adventures have brought my relationship with my BFFF to new heights of awesomeness. I LOVE YOU K-RATED!

I recieved a hilarious blog award from Beth of Living a Quotable Life, which guilted me into writing again, even though I only have time to do it in the middle of the night when I should be sleeping.

"The blogger who receives this award believes in the Tao of the Zombie Chicken-- excellence, grace, and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words. As a recipient of this world-renowned award, you now have the task of passing it on to at least 5 other worthy bloggers. Do not risk the wrath of the zombie chickens by choosing unwisely or not choosing at all."

I choose:

Christie, who is undoubtedly one of my favorite things.
Debi, who reigns supreme as the Master of Artful Wordsmithing.
Melissa, who's charm and humor absolutely endear her to all readers.
Vicki, who's unique "Seriously" series has me giggling every time.
Kristen, who's smart, funny movie reviews have me hanging on every word.

Congratulations bloggers!  Keep up the good work.

Summer

Generous columns of silvery morning sunlight flood through my sheer bedroom curtains. My silent alarm clock.

Inhale until my vision goes dark. Stretch until I have to exhale. Every muscle is relaxed. I hear screams of injustice followed by peels of laughter coming from downstairs. I smile, roll onto my side, and pray.

Another summer morning.

The invigorating, repetitive motion of a light jog. Proud warrior, downward dog, child's pose. I am strong.

Outside, indulging thirsty plants with fat drops of icy cold water from the garden hose. The soil darkens, the plants sigh. I love that smell.

Happy, sun browned faces bounce through the house, leaving a trail of grass blades and sidewalk chalk. Juice rings on the counter, finger smudges on the glass door, the lawn mower chokes on another popsicle stick.

The crisp sound of linen being spread out over grass. PB & J. Grapes and graham crackers. We loudly display our vocabulary of silly words. Our population swells and contracts as swarms of neighbor kids ping pong between houses. Blanket forts and bicycles. Water guns and freeze tag. A dining room table buried under a thick spread of crayon art and watercolor paintings.

Short shorts and hot car seats. Windows down, music up, "MOM! Can we go to DQ? MOM! Can we listen to Let It Rock again? MOM! Can we go to the beach today? MOM! MOM! MOM!"

The smell of barbecue outside. The front door opens, three little feets pounding down the stairs, cheers and chants of "DADDY!" Some one's about to be tickled, that's for sure. Strong arms around me. Warm sweet kisses in the airy, sunlit kitchen.

Bath time. Sweaty hair and bright white bottoms. More bubbles than water. Infectious Littleboy Giggles. A gritty layer of sand on the tub floor. The light outside turns to violet gold.

Open windows fill the house with a cool evening breeze. Shiny clean faces and minty fresh baby breath. We sit in piles of blankets and read our favorite books. All is finally quiet. He looks at me with a slow smile. The night is still young...

I wish for an endless summer.

Do I have to do EVERYTHING myself?

I'm looking for a goood hair stylist. God KNOWS they're hard to find. I've been doing my own hair pretty much all year, but every now and then I have to put myself in someone else's hands.

I went to a nice guy in a local salon. Aside from the fact that I asked for a trim and lost over 2 inches, I felt pretty good about it when I left. It was even from the front and the layers were swinging the way they were supposed to. I should have looked more closely.


Now granted, this is a hard haircut. It's not enough to make it even in the front. The length has to be perfectly symmetrical on both sides all the way around. And THIS cut? My left side was shorter and curved up, while the right side hung quite a bit longer and curved down. I can't believe I missed it! I can't believe I couldn't FEEL it!!! LOOK AT THAT!!!





How did this guy let me leave his chair?! Did he think I wouldn't notice? Or did he himself not notice?! When I pull up the sides you can see how drastically the length differs from one side to the other. Those pieces by my shoulders should be the same length. Yikes.


I just barely had time to sqeeze that haircut into my schedule as it was. I didn't have any time to go back! It looks like I'll be doing it myself. AGAIN. So I dragged my hat stand to the middle of the room, hung a small mirror on it so I could see the back, and fixed the stupid perimeter my dang self. Then I had to reshape all the layers on that side to match the new length. There's no haircut harder than one you have to do upside down and backwards on your own head!


It actually looks really cute now. I get a lot of compliments on it. No thanks to Edward Scissorhands over there. Way to go dude.


I can't even remember the last time I got a haircut or color that I didn't have to come home and fix. I'm pretty much used to it by now. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have the skills to make it right. The whole thing got me thinking. What do ordinary citizens do when they're given a bad haircut? Do you drop everything and go back to get it fixed? Are you scared to go back to the person who screwed it up? I know I wasn't too keen on going back, even if I'd HAD the time. Have any of you ever gotten a perfect haircut? Or do you just learn to deal with whatever you get. As a stylist, I'm very interested in some feedback on this.

Photoshoot 2009

As I've been advertising my salon and auditioning for gigs, I've realized that I needed a good head shot of myself with my current look. The pictures that my sister in law took of me last summer no longer look anything like me! So I asked the amazing Daina Crowell of Rahne Drop Photography to use her camera magic on me.

I wanted the photo to create a strong impression without crossing the line to "in your face". It had to look professional, but I did NOT want to look like a Real Estate Agent. After all, I work in entertainment and beauty! One look is all people need to judge my competence in either industry. So they had to be a little bit flashy, but it needed to look effortless. I had to fully display my confidence, without coming off as aloof or uninviting. The ultimate goal was to portray me as a mature, professional woman with strong flavors of glamour, of warmth, and with an aftertaste of sensuality. Not an easy gig, my friends.

Daina seemed excited for the challenge. She brought an assistant along for my shoot and took about 300 pictures of my mug one Thursday night. THREE HUNDRED. Thank God for digital.

She had a little trouble narrowing it down, so she broke with protocol and had me come over to weed through them with her. There were a lot of fantastic shots, but these are my top 10 favorites. They're all so different, it's hard to believe they're taken seconds apart! I'll be able to mix and match them throughout my web site, my fliers, and any gigs I have come up.
























So, which of these do you think fits all of my photo qualifications? Didn't Daina do an amazing job? I put a pretty tall order in front of her and she delivered it HOT. I highly recommend her to anyone who needs great professional photos.

From the Mouths of MY Babes

Never a dull moment with 3 kids! OK, well actually there are a LOT of dull moments. But these spicy little morsels keep things interesting.



*Driving past six flashing cop cars parked behind one truck*

Monkey: "I wonder what that guy did!"

Shiney: "Probably littered or killed somebody."



*While I'm unloading groceries*

Squeaks: "Mom, can I have my air?"

Me: "What do you mean?"

Squeaks: "Dad said he got me some air from the candy isle."



Shiney: "OK. You need to go fix your hair because I can't concentrate when you look like that."

Monkey: *rolls eyes* "You sound like Mom in church." (oopsies)



*pointed at a man right next to us on the street and shouted...*

Squeaks: "Oh NO! He's smoking! He's going to DIE!!!"



Monkey: "I can run as fast as a bicycle."

Squeaks: "I can run as fast as I can!"



*Hiding under a blanket during a loud thunder storm*

Monkey: "This would be SO cool. If it weren't so NOT cool."



*Listening to a recorded track of me singing*

Shiney: "You know, if I listen to it long enough, it doesn't sound like you. It sounds like a really good singer."



Squeaks: ♪"It's raining, it's pouring, it's whoring, it's snoring".♪



Random Friend: "Why did you HIT me dude! I didn't DO anything!!!"

Monkey: "YES you did, you were BREATHING REALLY LOUD!"



Me: "Why are you the sweetest little boy in the whole wide world."

Squeaks: "Because that's what I WANT to be Mommy."



*When I'm just out of the shower in ugly sweats and frizzy hair*

Monkey: "Mom? If you just stayed like this, would you lose all your clients?"



IF NOTHING ELSE, THEY KEEP ME HUMBLE. What are YOUR babies saying these days?

Why Perfectionists Shouldn't Do Yardwork

I think poor Jonathan might be coming upon The Change for men or something, because lately he's been having trouble sleeping. You know why? Because he can't stop THINKING. Never before has he experience the burden of being plagued by unsolicited thoughts. Welcome to MY life dude.

He wrote a huge list of things to get done so he can stop thinking about them all the time and start sleeping again. At first this was strangely satisfying, but now I just feel TERRIBLE for the guy. He's away from home for 11 hours a day and literally doesn't have the time for these kinds of projects. It's not fair that they should be troubling him to the point of insomnia. So on Saturday I sent him out golfing with a friend all day, and set out to eliminate as much of his list as I could before he got home.

I started with some major weeding, which I don't think has been done since last summer. That took most of the morning. I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed the process! There's something very soothing about having my hands in all that dirt. Maybe I should run for public office.

After the weeding I mowed the lawn, which I haven't done since I was about 14 years old. Shiney had to show me how to work the lawn mower. Embarrassing. Then I thatched the grass. My poor aching back! I was ready to be done at that point, but on the way inside I spotted a plant that I have HATED with the burning fire of a thousand suns since the day I first saw it in my yard. I decided I was done ignoring it, grabbed a little garden spade, dug it out and tossed it in the bin! Dusting my hands off, I looked up and saw a big plant too close to my driveway that has been annoying me for months. So I drew my little spade like a Samurai sword and started digging a hole for it on the other side of the yard.

As I dug, I kept running into some majorly big rocks. I didn't want them crowding in on my plant, impeding it's growth, so my mission was to remove them. Every time I thought to myself, "This is the LAST one and then I'll plant the thing and be done," I would see another rock behind that last one. "OK, just one more..." This went on for TWO AND A HALF HOURS. Apparently, there are SUPPOSED to be rocks in the ground. But my perfectionism wouldn't leave it alone. I wanted pure POTTING soil around my plant, and I was going to put that soil through a sieve to get it! Finally my neighbor staged an intervention. She came out and said, "Melain! Enough is enough! Get OUT of that HOLE!" I looked around at the now bathtub sized hole in the ground and humbly complied. She helped me get the plant in there and fill it back in with my lovely, rockless soil. "I stood in the rain and spent 5 minutes moving one of my plants last week," she laughed as she shook her head at my craziness.

I came away from the experience with a nasty farmers-tan sunburn, hands and forearms that looked like they'd spent the day with a masochistic acupuncturist, an ache in muscles that I didn't know existed, and a husband who finally got a good night's sleep. That last one made it all worth it.

Five Amazing Days

All was ready. The freezer was full of frozen pizza and chicken nuggets, the pantry was stocked with a variety of cold cereal and brainless pasta dishes. That is the only way my kids will get anything to eat over the next 5 days.

I was meeting my sister in law (one of my favorite people in the world) in Utah for the BYU Women's Conference. It would be our first time going and I was excited about all the education. But I'll admit, the spring in my step was coming from the company I would be keeping in the next few days.

I could hear the echos of Jill's infections laugh in my mind as Jonathan drove me to the airport. That little premonition was bringing a surge of giddy anticipation that made my knee start furiously pumping up and down, and my shoulders slowly creep up to my earlobes.

I got a little emotional at the airport curbside as my beautiful husband took me in his arms and covered my face in slow, gentle kisses. I looked up into his amazing blue eyes as he cupped my cheeks and said,

"Remember... Focus on the message. Not on the hair."

As confirmed by the previous post, this man knows me well.

I arrived in Salk Lake City and was greeted by a large, bright sphere in the sky which, if my memory serves me, is called THE SUN.

My Jill pulled up in a borrowed car with a huge smile on her pretty face. Our first order of business was to visit some friends of hers and to fix her haircut, which wasn't nearly cool enough for a girl like Jill. And if she was going to be in pictures with me all weekend, I thought it best to take care of that little update right away. While I was at it, I fixed up her best friend Susan's hair too. Then we then drove down to Provo where we would be staying with my friend Sami for the duration of the conference. Sami also scored a haircut out of that deal. I'm just the little Hair Fairy, sprinkling superfab haircuts everywhere I go.



I sorta sprung our visit on Sami at the last minute so she had some commitments that night and had to leave us alone in her place for a few hours. I suppose it was natural for her to assume that because we are both thirty something family women that we would behave while she was gone. But when Jill and I get together it's like two 14 year olds at a sleepover. We got so loud, I'm surprised a neighbor didn't call the cops.

Jill had the brilliant idea that we should learn the dance from Beyonce's video, "All The Single Ladies" which is the most retarded video EVER... until you start dancing along! We probably did that dance fifteen times, laughing harder and harder with each take until the final run through was spent mostly on the floor in hysterics. For the next couple of hours we learned the dances from a dozen different videos, from M.J.'s Thriller to Britney's Hit Me Baby One More Time. Sami and her mom Michelle got home on time to capture our All The Single Ladies routine on film. I can't ever look at these pictures without cracking up. Though I still maintain that we looked exactly like Beyonce and her backups, even in our pj's and heels. Click on that image so you can more closely examine our awesomeness.

After a VERY late night of unrestrained silliness, we got up ambitiously early and took a cab to the conference. The whole thing was NOT what I was expecting. I thought it would be like General Conference, but with less important, more interesting speakers. Jill must have thought the same thing. Why else would we have both worn high heels? HIGH HEELS. We had to walk to classes all over campus, all day long. My shoes were patent leather with pointed toes, worn with no socks. By 5pm, I had 8 small blisters and counting. I actually took a paper towel from the ladies room and shoved it in my shoe to provide some kind of buffer, but it wasn't much help at that point. Jill's maddsexy stiletto boots were causing all kinds of problems too. So we army-crawled across campus to the BYU bookstore and bought FLIP FLOPS. Good riddance, pretty shoes. I'm getting too old for that crap.

While I was in class, I focused on the message like a good little wifey. But all bets were off on the walk to and from. The hair... THE HAIR!!! What movies and magazines are these people exposing themselves to that makes them believe this is really OK?!!! I HAD to document some of my favorites. Poor Jill had to pose for many a faux picture so I could discretely capture someone standing behind her. I admit I'm glad for the entertaining (though slightly appalling) people watching. I needed something to distract me from my feet. The classes themselves ranged between life-changingly powerful and mind numbingly boring, but all in all it was an uplifting experience. I was changed for the better and my "bucket" was filled. Now all I had to do was stay different when I got home and and splash my bucket all over everyone I know. How hard can that be.


Saturday morning, Jill and I got up early and hit up a Zumba class that she used to frequent when she lived there. I haven't had that much fun working out since... well, maybe since that last night with Jonathan, but in PUBLIC I haven't had that much fun since NEVER! I'm absolutely dying to find a good Zumba class in my area so I can go every single week.

The rest of the weekend I spend with my Grandpa and my Aunt. They both have such a soothing presence and are a delight to talk with. I got enough quiet/ reflective time to write two songs and several journal entries. With each morning away, I woke up with a bigger smile. That is more amazing than you might think, considering how physically uncomfortable I was. You see, the day before the trip, I broke out with THREE canker sores, one of which was right in the front of my mouth and shows up in all the pictures. BOOOOOO!!! On Thursday morning I woke up with a small cut RIGHT ON THE TIP of my tongue, which got worse and worse as the weekend progressed. My mouth hurt so badly I couldn't even eat more than a few bites of anything each day. As you can no doubt tell, I am NOT a fan of an empty stomach. We've already covered the multiple blisters on my feet, so we'll just move on. Thursday night at the AMAZING musical concert, a vein in my right leg EXPLODED, giving me a massive and VERY tender bruise. The next day, I went to shake the water off my razor in the shower, and accidentally slashed my thigh wide open! It was a big, jagged cut that bled for a full day and hurt like hell. And all the sitting, which I am NOT used to, built up a pretty severe stomachache that even lingered for a couple days after I got home. So knowing all that and STILL having me say it was the best getaway I've had in a couple of years gives you an idea of how much I enjoyed it.

It wasn't a perfect trip. But if I could do it all again, I would do it all the same. The only thing I would change would be how long it took me to get it up here for you guys to read! Sorry about that. I've had it written since I got back, but was having technical difficulty adding the pictures! Everything seems to be in order now so you can look forward to hearing from me more often.

It's good to be back!!!

REALLY Utah?!

I spent last weekend in Utah. I tried to be good, but I could NOT HELP MYSELF. I'll tell you all about it when I get a little more time, but until then... a preview: