Larrie’s DEEP Thoughts On Phones

I just read an article summarizing some info on a published report from a bunch of scientists regarding their findings on cell-phone radiation risk. (Wow, that sentence was chalk full of prepositional phrases.)

This is the article, for any inquiring minds: Details emerge on possible cell-phone radiation risk.

Basically, they say that there is a link between cell-phone use and brain tumors, but not sufficient study to really prove it. Or something like, “it might kill you, it might not.” Well done, scientists. GROUNDBREAKING report.

After reading it, I started thinking about phones in general. I realize that I have a lot of phone memories. Ah, the good ol’ days.

It all started, as far as I can remember, when I was in preschool. I had a handful of phone numbers memorized: Grandma Campbell, Grandma DeeDee, Aunt Jane and Dad’s work number. I remember one time climbing up on to the kitchen counter so that I could call one of those people for a chat. Apparently, I liked chatting on the phone at a young age.

We moved into a bigger house when I was in kindergarten and one of my favorite new features there were the BUZZERS. There were these tiny buttons by all of the phone jacks in the house and when you pressed it, it buzzed. For however LONG you pressed it. BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. I can’t imagine why my parents had those removed. Why wouldn’t you want buzzers all over the house when you have six children and all of their friends coming and going? I vaguely remember that before we had them removed, we were assigned a number so you could tell somebody that the phone was for them. If you answered and it was one of Pete’s friends, you buzzed 5 times. Then nobody picked up because Pete was in the middle of conquering The Legend of Zelda.

One day, we had a new feature on our phones and the world opened up to more prank call options. We could make three-way calls. What a beautiful thing. We would call up a friend’s house, their older sister would answer and we’d bumble through an intro, “Hi, how are you? I was calling for… oh wait… sorry… the other line is beeping… one second.” Then, we’d call up another friend’s house, wait for them to answer—“Hello?”—and then connect them to the first friend’s house. “Hello?” “Hello?” “Can I help you?” “What? You called me.” “No I didn’t.” “Yes, huh.” “Nuh, uh.” “Yes WAY.” “No WAY.”

We were so funny.

And then they invented caller ID. Game over.

On to college, my freshman year we had to set up our phone in the kitchen so the voicemail had all 6 of our names on it. Each week we would record a new voicemail message, trying to be funnier than the previous one. Apparently though, none of them were memorable because, well, I don’t remember any of them. I do remember our “Kissing Wall” though. It was rather blank.

Maren and I both got our first cell phones for Christmas in 2000. Mine was blue, hers was red and they were the awesome, bulky Nokia 5100 phones. They came with a game, too… I was SO good at snake after an incredibly boring Astronomy class at SLCC. But I used the phone too much. When I’d call my friends, we’d chat for an hour or more and then make plans and then call more friends to add to those plans. One month, I went WAY over. I didn’t have a clue, though, because I didn’t see previous phone bills and never knew how much I was talking.

So I painted the basement and the laundry room to “pay back” my Dad for the phone bill. I think it took me an entire month. The basement family room alone is practically the size of mine and Nathan’s condo. And there were some precarious balancing acts to get the walls above the stairwell leading up to the laundry room.

Okay, I’ll stop there. Well, maybe I’ll add just one more. Eventually, I had this phone that would talk to me. Meaning: it would announce who was calling or texting. “Me-ssage frooom Kas-ey Chi-ild.” My favorite was when it would say either a call or a text from “Nathan.” I really should have used that phone to make those texts or calls even better like, “Me-ssage frooom hot-t-t boy-friend,” and “Call frooom hott-ie mc-hott-ie feee-ahn-say.”

I’ll tell the INTERNET about my weekend, because the boys never asked…

I often go out for lunch on Fridays with an ever-changing group of coworkers. Last Friday that included Freddy, McJosh and Hoss. We went to Barbacoa and ate outside, which was quite nice. I was excessively tired from the upstairs neighbor and her boyfriend waking me up around 1:00 a.m. and again around 5:30 a.m. the night before. This meant that I wasn’t the one asking questions and keeping conversation alive. So instead, McJosh asked Hoss, “What are you up to this weekend?”

He listed off some chores, taking the wife’s car to the shop, not much else.

McJosh said he’d be playing with his kids.

Freddy mentioned the he doesn’t really like to make plans.

I waited patiently for them to all take their turns and then ask me what I was up to.

I kept waiting.

I’m still waiting.

I’m just going to tell myself that they never asked because they didn’t want to be JEALOUS.

Seriously. My weekend was a bit jam packed.


Friday night, I enjoyed a delectable dinner of macaroni and cheese with hot dogs. Yum. Then I convinced Mern not to take a nap and instead go to an Olympus High School football game with me. Really. Just because I didn’t go to football games when I attended East High School doesn’t mean I don’t want to go to a former rival high school’s football game nearly 10 years after graduating. (I’m not old; I’m experienced.)

We went to watch our nieces who were performing with a drill team camp at half time. Little Jane, the three-year-old, stole the show. Her t-shirt was nearly the same size as her, her hair just barely fit into pig-tails and she was the best little hip shaker on the field. Annie and Emma did a great job, too, of course.

We left after the show (before the football game finished) and then I stalled by taking Mern to buy kitty treats at Dan’s because I REALLY needed to get them NOW. By the time I returned Mern home, all the lights were off and she noticed a few little heads peeking out the window. We walked in and the kids yelled, “Surprise!” They were so excited to be in on the secret. Especially Abe and Jane who previously only knew that they were going to have a sleep over… SOME WHERE.

The rest of the surprise birthday sleep over went as follows: pizza, decorating cup cakes, laughing in the front room, watching All Dogs Go To Heaven, almost sleeping, waking up to a sick Jane, not particularly enjoying the mattress that I slept on, and eating McDonald’s breakfast with ibuprofen.

When I got home, I really considered taking a nap before remembering how much I hate waking up – if I fall asleep now, I might not want to get up and clean up (myself and my home) before the swimming party / pot luck.

So I managed to stay awake by cleaning the kitchen. We’re talking about really cleaning here, too. Spraying the sink and counters down with Lysol, letting it soak, and scrubbing it clean; vacuuming then mopping the floor; wiping down the stovetop and microwave; cleaning the dishes and loading the dishwasher. I also cleaned the laundry room which mostly meant sweeping up kitty litter that those darn cats had tracked out of the box. Now I can walk barefoot in there again.

Eventually, I got my place cleaned up, cleaned up myself then went to the store to pick up food. That’s a lot of getting up when I really just wanted to lie down.

Before long, the party was happening at my place when Bean and her little cutey, Adie came over. We, of course, played with Pogi and Adie got the giggles playing fetch while Bean was changing into her swimsuit in the bathroom. Just as we were finished getting ready to go out to the pool, Kow, J and their three little girls pulled up. Yes, it’s true, internet. I like to hang out with married people and their kids. We had a fabulous time.

After swimming, we chowed down on sandwiches—croissants from Costco are delightful. Then my fabulous friends helped clean up and we sent Bean and Adie on their way. Kow, J, the girls and I then went for a little ride over to Iceberg for shakes, which we ate in my parking lot while waiting for Nettie and Dave to stop by and say hi. Eventually, all of the married people left and Joel-in-the-box came over to finish my shake. Have you seen the size of the ‘mini’ shakes? Trying to describe it with the word “huge” would be an understatement.

I then made Joel-in-the-box come with me to my indoor soccer game (at 11:10 p.m.) where I scored a couple of goals in the first half and therefore assigned myself to play defense in the second half. Yes, I scored in defense, too from just over the half line. I think the goalie was trying to guard a player instead of his goal. After soccer, we finished off the evening watching the US men bring home the gold in basketball.

Okay, are you still with me? We’re on to Sunday now. I’ll make this day short: breakfast at Mern’s, church where two people talked to me (I sort of gave up making an effort anymore), dinner at the parents’, birthday cake and presents, then home to feed the cats and water the plants.

So there you go, internet. That was my weekend.

Ode to Little Sister

I know, you can’t believe it, right? I posted on a Sunday. And you thought all I did on my Sabbath was sleep in, go to church, eat dinner with the fam. Well, NOT TODAY. Today, I had a good reason to get up early (ha, early for a Sunday)… breakfast at the little sister’s. Her fabulous roommies threw a birthday breakfast for her and even though I was a wee bit late (due to a very tardy bedtime watching the Gold medal Bball game last night), it was delish.

So here, for your reading pleasure, internet, is my ode to little sister, Mern. In the words of Gus-Gus: Happy Birfaday!


Somehow, our lives have revolved around soccer. Dad coached us when we were little and for some reason, you felt it NECESSARY to wear your plaid hat for soccer games. I’m not sure it matched our reversible Leopards Lair jerseys or not, but I suppose you weren’t planning on heading the ball much so by all means, wear your stylish little hat. It must have been EASIER than having Mom comb the tangles out of your hair. WE HATED THAT. Eventually, Mom bought some Aveda leave-in conditioner and life was a wee bit less painful for our delicate little scalps.

Before long, we started playing competition soccer and traveling to tournaments. Dad was mighty brave to drive a bunch of 6th and 7th grade girls to Boise. We managed to keep ourselves entertained in the car, pre-DVD player days. After every bathroom stop, we checked to see if anybody was a CUP yet. “Nope, still a YUP.” It was VERY IMPORTANT that we were Clear Urine People before playing many soccer games in one weekend. We also ate a lot of carrots. That didn’t turn out so well when Puck started to look the same color as her carrots and what were we supposed to do? I think I shut my eyes and prayed, “Please don’t vomit on ME.” Thanks, Puck, for catching all your spewed up carrots in your own hands. That was so thoughtful. And to top off our diet of lots of water and too many carrots: jolley ranchers. We would suck on them for a few minutes, then drop them out the back window of the van to see if they would bounce up and stick to cars. Things like that were REALLY FUNNY back then.

And today, Mern, you let me tag along with you for many soccer games. Sometimes we win the league, sometimes, we’re just glad we’re not on Mandy’s team. And if we added up all the money spent, perhaps you could give yourself a scholarship to PA school. You used to drive all the way down to Provo ONCE A WEEK, just to be the best girl on my indoor soccer team. SOMEBODY had to score some goals. After all these years of post-high-school soccer, what do we have to show for it? A friendship with Pepe, OF COURSE.

Insignificant Others

Ever since Dad made a comment at Thane’s wedding dinner about how he’s “good at marrying off boys,” we’ve become each other’s INSIGNIFICANT OTHER. In a family full of couples (except for lil’ brudder, Jamis), it’s the only way to cope. Or else, it is forced upon us because who else are we going to share a room/bed with on family vacations? Each year, we both say we’re going to get married before the next vacation, just so WE GET OUR OWN ROOM. (Well, that we would share with that special someone who we married for the sake of an improved vacation experience.) And in family pictures, when everybody stands next to their spouse, where do we stand? (Probably holding one of the nieces or nephews to help them smile AT the camera.)

We also traveled together as such, although back in the day, Sir Pee-A-Lot made us a trio instead of a couple. That led to a New Years in San Francisco where NOBODY AT THE PARTY actually counted down til midnight. How do you miss the countdown? We had to make up for that with PLENTY of shopping, taking pictures for an Asian friend we made (one, two, three, ha-rah!), riding the tro-rrey, and getting recruited to join the Not-Well Posse.

You helped me survive a week in Warsaw, IN. Although for part of the vacation, you’re the one that needed help when you came down with a case of bad Chinese food. Eventually, you got back on your feet so we could sit around in the living room, read books, ride teeter-totters, and eventually head up to Chicago for some SHOPPING.

Now… we’re friends

It’s true, life wasn’t always so picture perfect for us two sisters. Mom used to threaten us with sending me to therapy (probably with a REAL therapist and all), and you to live with your cousin in Oklahoma. I don’t blame you for being scared; I wouldn’t want to live in Tulsa either… THEY HAVE CHIGGERS.

Eventually, Mom learned that we would get along a little better if we didn’t share rooms and then, IF ONLY we could have had our own bathrooms, life would have been peachy. There was that time, once, though, that we decided to clean the bathroom TOGETHER. (I know, Mom is SHOCKED.) See all the old toothbrushes? We figured it was probably time to throw them away. And now, we clean our own bathrooms all alone because we don’t even live in the same zip code. (Good thing we still have soccer… and work.)

A toast to many more years filled with plenty of pictures in which NOBODY expects you to smile normal, Mern; that would be dull.