The Best Movies are B movies (or LB movies)

This is for all of you cat lovers out there.


*cue deep, ominous man's voice and mysterious music*
Coming soon to a blog near you! The best blog of the season! (Bloggington Post) A must see! (The Blogexeter)

*dramatic pause*

The Return of Lemon Blossom: The Haunting Love Story of a Demonic Goddess

*mysterious music fades*

(or maybe just a return to my regular emotional breakdown posts. I haven't been able to decide yet.)

Cards

These were too funny not to share.

Valentine Cards

Too many holidays to choose from!

Some of these are just hilarious!

History

I just realized the other day that I haven't really mentioned my background that much, so I thought I would introduce myself. Hi, my name is Lemon Blossom and I am a mormonholic.

I grew up in a very TBM family. I was the third of four children, 3 girls and one boy. My dad has been in the Bishopric 3 or 4 times. He was just released as bishop this last October. Going to church on Sundays was a given, as was every church activity we could go to. I remember giving Books of Mormon away to our neighbors, inviting them to Primary activities, highlighting scriptures as a family, and FHE almost every Monday. One of my favorite memories is playing softball as a family for FHE. I also remember getting up early to read scriptures and pray as a family. I think doing all of these activities did bring us closer together after we all grew up, but now it is the reason I don't want to talk to them, and why I have such a heavy heart and anxiety. I don't know, maybe putting it off is making it worse?

Anway, I went to four years of seminary, every EFY event I could go to, church dances, I wrote in my journal, I played piano in RS, Primary, YW, sacrament, and while on my mission. I was as Mormon as I could possibly be. I wasn't perfect at doing everything right, as is expected, but I put as much of myself into it as I could. Which leads me to Paul H. Dunn.

I remember hearing about Paul H. Dunn (though I didn't know the GA's name at the time, I had heard about his talks not being exactly truthful) when I was younger and subconsciously decided to believe everything to a certain extent, but I always left room for doubt. One day I was pondering this truthfulness in talks after a nice day at church hearing inspiring talks. I decided that it was possible they weren't completely true, so I would leave room for doubt. They were probably mostly true anyway. Then I remember thinking, "I'll even leave room for doubt about the church. That way, if it's false, I won't be so broken up about it. But, of course, it is true, so I don't need to really, but just in case..." Then I stopped thinking about it and went about my day. Dang I'm good at compartmentalizing.

I was/am a people pleaser and didn't like confrontation. I didn't want attention unless I specifically asked for it, so, growing up, I didn't ever really participate in gospel discussions unless I didn't have to "debate" them. I think this part of myself is part of my problem today. I don't know how to stand on my own because I haven't ever really had to do it. And I don't want to close any options. I picture myself sitting on cement, surrounded by several pools of water unable to swim or even dip my toes into any of them because I might find out too late that I chose wrong. Or that it closes me off to other options. So, I just sit having lots of options, but never choosing.

And yet another

Oh, and I sneeze really loud. I can't sneeze softly or daintily. It's not a problem if I am at home or only sneeze once or twice. But when I am in public and I can't stop sneezing and I get a headache from it, then it's a problem.

Man, I can hear my sneezes echo up and down the school hallway....

Tagged - 6 Weird Things/Experiences

Freckle Face Girl tagged me on Tuesday, so I get to think of 6 more weird things about myself. Thanks FFG!

*I decided to change the title because Gluby pointed out that some of the weird things I posted are more experiences I had than personality quirks. :)

It takes an exceptionally long time for anesthesia to work on me, but when it does, it works! This weird thing goes along with the next one as well.

The anesthesiologist who gave me my epidural when my first son was born is the only person I still want to curse to this day. Arrogant son of...anyway. He gave me the initial shot in my spine to numb the spot where they would insert the catheter for the epidural. It takes a long time for anesthesia to work on me, as already stated, but he wouldn't stop and listen to me. So, when he shoved, yes shoved, the catheter in my back, it was as if he hadn't given me anything to numb my back at all. Then he yelled at me for moving, pushed me back into the hunched position, and continued to shove and manipulate the catheter into place. I almost fainted.

I had the baby and everything went well, except that I couldn't walk for a long time. I gave birth at 10:00 PM and still couldn't walk at 6:00 AM. The nurse finally had me lean on her so I could go to the bathroom. I almost fainted again and I had to have 2 nurses pull me back to my bed. Talk about fun.

I hate the phrase "that wasn't so bad, was it?"

When I was 8 I had 4 permanent teeth pulled. They had a lot of patients to see that day and couldn't wait for the anesthesia to work. They gave me shots, gas, and something else. Nothing worked because I could still feel them working on my teeth. So they gave me more shots. Finally they just had to start working. My mother was in the waiting room and could hear me screaming the whole time. After they were finally done torturing me, the dentist had the gall to pat me on the back and say, "That wasn't so bad, was it?" I glared at him and, with all the dignity I could muster, painstaking muttered "Yeth." It wasn't until the next morning that I could feel my mouth and tongue completely again.

At the age of 8 I almost had to have my leg amputated.

My family and I were making our own sand box and I ended up slicing two of my toes on a garden hoe. I got 8 or 10 stitches and didn't walk for a week. When we returned to the doctor's office he said that there was an infection that had made it's way up the top of my calf muscle and that if I didn't start walking on it they would have to amputate my leg. I'm not sure if that was just a scare tactic or if that was really the only option, but it worked. I have never felt pain like that before, but talk about walking on pins and needles.

I have a bad nervous habit.

I pull on my eyelashes and eyebrows. When I am stressed I pull them a lot. A few times I have pulled them enough that I have bare spots on my eyebrows.


I can't wear contacts or get lasik

I have dry eye syndrome. I found out about it on my mission, but I didn't know what it was called because I forgot what the Italian eye doctor told me. She just said not to wear my contacts until after I got home from my mission. I get home and find out that I basically have to wear glasses for the rest of my life.

I have/had hypothyroiditis.

I was diagnosed with Hashimoto's thyroiditis when I was 11 or 12. I was supposed to take synthetic thyroid pills for the rest of my life. When I was 18 my family and I started going to the Myotherapy College of Utah and I started taking some kind of organic thyroid pill and eventually (about 18 months later) was able to wean myself off of them. I still have to take them every once in awhile when my body is just way too taxed, but I haven't had to take them daily since then.

I didn't tag anyone else the last time I was tagged, but I am not going to be so nice this time. I'm going to tag Jer (maybe this will inspire him to post again soon!), Amber, Supernova, and Michelle. If you have already done this tag, or don't want everyone knowing just how weird you are, then write about the 6 most memorable moments from your life. Or you could just ignore me and I'll cry over here in the corner. Sniffle.

Dam it

Like the tide of the ocean, I feel there is an ebb and flow to life. Sometimes the lapping of the waves is refreshing and invigorating, while at other times it is insistent and overwhelming. The emotions I feel right now have this same ebb and flow, and at times seem to take over my life. When it feels that the sadness, anxiety, anger, confusion, or pain will push through the protective wall I have built around them so I can continue to function in life, I start to crash. Sometimes I am able to slowly let something out to ease the pressure building up inside and deal with little bits here and there, but other times it seems everyone and everything else around me must suffer. Gluby, my kids, my house, my schoolwork. Me. I wonder, if I just let the dam break, would I really be able to recover myself, or would I break as well?

Good, Good, Good, Good Vibrations

Today, we are going to talk about sex. And, no, you have not been magically transported over to T.Wanker's Mormon Erotica blog, though he probably knows more about this stuff than my professor does. :)

Last Tuesday's topic in my women history class was Victorian Sexuality: Hysteria, Surgery, and the Vibrator. I felt this information was important for the eternities, so I must be a member missionary and teach those who may not know.

Female hysteria was the diagnosis for 25% of women during the 1800s when they had an ailment with no explainable cause. It had 75 possible symptoms and was found mostly in middle class white women (lower class women suffering the same symptoms were told it was caused by fatigue or sensuality). Some of the early treatments for hysteria were: injections of chemicals, milk, water or tea into the uterus; cauterizing the uterine cavity; leeching (one had to be very careful to ensure none of the leeches made their way too far north); and, eventually surgery, such as clitoridectomy (removal of the skin hood above the clitoris) and ovaritomy (removal of ovaries).

I was angry at the doctors at first, and am still upset at the cultural norms which created this sort of thinking. But, my professor pointed out that many of these doctors were trying new desperate measures to help desperate women, so I can't hate them completely.

Ok, let's move on to more pleasurable treatments for hysteria, the "hysterical paroxysm." It was found that if women had a paroxysm (clinical word for orgasm), that they felt better, so doctors would manually massage the vulvar area of their hysteria patients. Doctors found it often took awhile to, um, complete treatment and that they had a lot of patients to help. They were relieved when the vibrator was created by a British doctor in the 1880s in response to the overwhelming number of women receiving "manual hysterical paroxysms."

Soon, these large machines were downsized and sold in reputable women's magazines, like Sears and Roebuck. One of the ads my professor read in class goes something like this: "Aids that every women appreciates. It will make youth throb within you."

They continued to be advertised in such magazines until they started being used in erotic films in the 1920s, and then they were seen as dirty, sensual, and bad. They have been playing peek-a-boo in our culture ever since. They are actually illegal in some states, such as Alabama. Men can use viagra, but women can't buy a vibrator? Sure, that makes perfect sense.

JOOM, do I get Brimstone points for teaching others about sinful devices?

Trying to fit a square block into a round pipe

Don't try it, it doesn't work.

We moved into this rental house (pretty decent overall) last October and noticed a few minor problems, but nothing we couldn't live with. One of the problems was the loose drain cover over the pipe in our shower. (I bet most of you know what's going to happen next.)

A couple of months ago I took M in the shower with me and grabbed a lego (one of the larger one's for 1-year olds) and a couple of other good toys that could get wet. I decided to leave the toys in the shower for next time and didn't think about it again. I have no idea when or how it found its way into the pipe, but a couple of weeks ago our shower started filling up with water at an alarming rate. I used two bottles of Liquid Plumber, but that didn't work, so the rental agency had a plumber come out and take a look. He realized something was inside the pipe when the snake he was using to clear the pipe wouldn't move deeper into it. We found the culprit after finally finding a flashlight that worked.

The lego was stuck at the area of the pipe where it turns, so there was no fear of it moving further down the pipe, but it was already 10 inches down. He said they'd have to have another plumber come out, climb under the house, and cut out the pipe. Ugh. The rental agency said that we would be the ones to pay for it. I said I'd talk with Gluby and call them back.

All of this happened on Wednesday and Thursday. Fast forward to Saturday. After spending $15 at Jerry's buying two-sided adhesive tape for carpet, carpet glue, and a 24 inch claw type thingy (I know, very technical of me), spending two hours trying to figure out how to use these things, and calling our friend Aaron to get other ideas, Gluby saved the day. He found my metal music stand (which I never use), took it apart, heated it up with a fire in our fireplace, and melted the lego. He did this 4 or 5 times. The last time he did it he left it in the lego to cool off and pull out the lego. Here are photos of his handy work.

If they only knew..

I happened upon the Feminine Mormon Housewives blog a couple of years back and found that I felt at home among the frequenters because of their recognition of certain issues within the church. It was the only connection I felt I had to non-TBM conversation (besides Gluby, but I wasn't ready to talk to him about it yet). I eventually used to check there several times a day before I found my new blog family. Now I often get frustrated by the open talk of cognitive dissonance they live with to be able to go to church (Mostly because I am still trying to deal with mine).

Every once in awhile I stop by Feminist Mormon Housewives to see if there is anything new and of interest to me. This is a post from Sunday.

The chapel doors seem to say to me….

By: Guest - February 4, 2007

by Patti,

Tonight while we were singing “The Chapel Doors,” one of my youngsters was playing with a “pirate island” toy. When you push down the toy’s button, a mangy pirate voice yells out one-liners like, “HANDS OFF ME GOLD!” and “X MARKS THE SPOT!”

Well, as we were singing, the button got pushed at the just the right (wrong?) moment and this is what could be heard:

“The Chapel Doors seem to say to me….. aarrrggghh! THERE’S NO ESCAPE!”

If they only knew the true irony here....

Da, da, da, da!!

Ok, you asked for it, so here it is. A photo of..me! This was taken a few days after I got my hair whacked. Though it doesn't really look much like JOOM's hair, I did use her photo when I went in to get it cut.

I also decided to take this time to out my kids as well, so here they are. S is on the left coloring a fish we are going to catch using magnets. Thanks to his Aunt, who sent them a nice craft box for Christmas, we have lots of options for the fish (a fish with glitter glue and feathers?! Ok, why not.)

M is the one on the right. He is holding an "M" that we painted at one of those paint-you-own pottery places. He absolutely loves that thing and is always asking to hold it. I just hope we don't break it!

So, Bishop Rick, here you are. Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long!!

**photos were taken down because of threatening anonymous stalkers **