In Between

If you're reading this I'm already dead...

Kidding.

If you're reading this you are numbered among those wonderful enough to keep checking in even after I vanish. Bless you. I have a million excuses for not blogging lately. Just the fact that I am a single mom who started a new job while working on several large projects should buy me a few weeks vacation from the burn out of - blah, blah, blah...

But, honestly, none of those reasons is the real and true reason I haven't blogged lately. I haven't blogged because this blog is basically a narrative of me: my life, my thoughts, my feelings and my oh-so fabulous every day life. But, for the past while now I have found myself living in the land of In Between and still haven't quite figured out how to write about it.

How does one adequately describe that place between waking and sleeping while one is still in it? How do we wax poetic or humorous when we find ourselves, yet again, half gooey dying caterpillar half brilliant butterfly? There are literally no words to describe the experience of curling up in the darkest night of the soul while concurrently spreading one's wings in the luminescence of resurrection morning.

That all sounds so flowery and self important. It's not. To put it in more simply: it's been impossible for me to write a 500 word essay while simultaneously having open heart surgery and multiple orgasms.

I am changing in big ways. I am becoming. I am allowing. And I am healing. Still. And I've been far more interested in experiencing it than narrating it. Life is just so damn cool - even when it's not.

Also, it looks like my book Dancing With Crazy is, at long last, going to be published by a new publisher (details forthcoming) and I have found myself pulling back into, however illusory, blessed anonymity while I still can. Being famous in a weird little pond primarily because of what has been said about me by other people has been... interesting. And the reason I even started writing this memoir in the first place was because I was done having other people speak for me. Done having other people tell their versions of some of the most important chapters in my life story. One of them was given permission. The other wasn't. Whatever. It is what it is.

And now it's my turn and that is both thrilling and terrifying. My guts are about to be publicly splayed again - but this time it is by my own doing. And in vivid Technicolor. There will be those that will be touched and moved and changed and entertained by it while others will judge and hate and dissect and blog and point mean fingers. And I am okay with it all because that is what I have chosen.

So there you have it. I am emerging from In Between Land a more whole version of myself and fun things are happening. Thanks for sticking with me through my silence. I'm back. (I think.) And you totally rock.

Gotta Love Guilt Free Mocking

Comment: Looks like you can enjoy this without feeling guilty: Snopes.

No Little Person named Od was swallowed by a hippo named Hilda.

Someone made it up.

I want to marry that person.

Hippo Swallows What???

OH. MY... Poor little guy. This story, as you all know by now, is perfectly set up to transform me into a puddle of delighted happy. The little one named Od. (Seriously???) The large one named Hilda. The trampoline. The yawn. The swallow.

But that was a person. And he died. In a hippo.

Moment of silence.

But, I gotta say, I am a bit jealous. Because I will most likely die in some boring illness - accident - old person way and he always gets to say, "Dude, I died in a Hippo."

That is a tiny bit awesome.

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Nothing On Earth Can Defeat You, Huh?

"I have been checking your site every hour waiting for you to post your thoughts and massive excitement about the overturning the Prop 8. Hurry! Yahoo!"

Yes, I have been without Internet but I really don't think there is much to say that hasn't already been said. Glorious day. I got the phone call. Cried, hugged my kids, and had an internal party with my daddy. It was as it should have been.

Congratulations my friends. Go get married.





[Photos: Spencer & Tyler (from "8") & Happy Lady (my mother's secret twin) in SF; and Jeff speaking in SLC.]

Guest Blogger: Sister Gladiola Moriancumer Young

I am Gladiola Moriancumer Young and I will be posting here as occasion calls. I must say that I, for one, am quite pleased that the Pearson formerly known as "Sister" has been without Internet for the past several days. Clearly it was God's will, as I think we have heard quite enough from her on the topic of that so-called Proposition 8.

Brothers and Sisters, Satan has clearly won this round. But, make no mistake, we will keep fighting. You may think that all the money that The Only True Church exhausted from it's members was collected in vain. Not so. The Lord demanded that we sacrifice all within our time and our means and we did. Now we may all stand blameless before God and be lifted up on the day that the world is consumed by fire because of those gays. And that day will come. Mark my words.

It was no accident that it poured rain here in Utah the day the plague of gay marriage was, once again, visited upon California. God and his wives were weeping in their Heavens. And I tell you what, my sister and I pulled the drapes and spent considerable time on our knees when we saw that giant double rainbow that Satan painted over the Lord's Only True City. Some said it was beautiful, but I would not be deceived. I know pure evil when I see it.

Yes Sir, the Devil may have won the battle. The world may be celebrating. But me and my house, we will continue to prepare. For the end is upon us. The real storm is coming.

And we should all be very, very afraid.

Excuse Me God, But My Eyes Are Up HERE!

A really wonderful time was had at our retreat this past weekend. It started off with a happygasmic bang when everyone was arriving, getting settled, and a woman known to me only as Valerie pulled me aside and said, "I am Val - from your blog. The one that lives next door to the..."little people." I fell both on the floor and madly in love with my very own blog-stalker and determined right then to stalk her right back. Who wouldn't? I mean, seriously, she won the real estate jack pot! Her neighbors have parties and reunions. I think the rapture might just kill me...

The details of our time together are confidential and something I hold sacred - but I will say that I was honored to be in the presence of such wonderful women. We laughed, we cried, we questioned, answered, thought, ranted, discovered, risked, healed... and ate more than I thought humanly possible.

One thing I can share - the best Mormon-story-begging-to-be-mocked I've heard in a very long time. In a certain Relief Society attended by one of the women, the teacher, very emotionally, added the following to her lesson: "Sisters, this is not in the manual but I feel very strongly to share it with you. My mother taught it to me, I taught it to my daughters and they are teaching it to theirs... Sisters, please remember that God is still a man. When you pray to Him, make sure that you are not in your nightgown - but are properly covered and attired..."

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!?!? Sister of the Oh So Many Disturbing Issues, when did your Almighty God, Loving Heavenly Father, Creator of All become Big Daddy the Pedophile Pervert? Seriously - God might be tempted to get off while sneaking a peek at you in your 1847 Little House on the Prairie nightgown covering your one piece, old school, fundamentalist, to the wrist and ankle, trap door garments? (Forget what the the rest of us wear, or don't wear, to bed...) This twisted gem is wrong on sooooo many levels.

It is my belief that poor woman has not showered in decades. Huh. Maybe that's why so many of the older Sisters at church smelled like Lysol...