I'm thinking of hanging this over my front door.
Anyone know what it says?
I'm kind of embarrassed to say that, not only do I know,
I googled the translation to get this picture.
As you no doubt recall -- because let's face it, you hang on my every word -- I moved to Utah six months ago. So far, so good. I've had more fun in the last six months than I ever could have imagined in a world without regular doses of Dawnie. And it's time I confessed that during my first month here, I once said the following prayer: "Please, Lord, whatever happens, don't let me be assimilated."
That prayer has been answered, to the point that I am every bit as annoying in Utah as I was in Las Vegas, San Juan, or Seattle.
Be careful what you pray for.
Another thing I did in those early days was fire off a cry for help to Momza as I wandered through Wal Mart. I had come thisclose to purchasing a giant picture of a chicken for the sole reason that it was a wall hanging and I was desperate. She ordered me to back away from the chicken, and even offered to help me decorate my walls if I would just send her pictures and dimensions.
But I was too ashamed. Hold up a piece of tan construction paper. Imagine that it's the size of your wall. That's how I've decorated so far. So there was no way I was sending those construction paper photos to Momza, the queen of home décor.
Instead, I took Jana to IKEA, and she had me take pictures of entire walls of decorating ideas. That's right. I dragged a world class artist through IKEA so she could say, "There. Those frames, that mirror, these little dangly thingies."
And still my walls are barren.
Except for two things: A picture of Christ and a little child, painted by Simon Dewey. And what is fast becoming my least favorite painting of all time -- Arnold Frieberg's "George Washington Getting His Knees Wet". Or something like that. George Washington looks for his contact? George Washington promises never to spread super-glue all over his hands again?
I know, I know. Half of you are now miffed. I'm sorry. Truly. But that painting is in every LDS home across the globe. Honestly, there are entire branches of aborigines, living in trees and speaking only in clicks, with that painting on their walls. They're using that painting as their walls. They think Americans really pray this way. "Please, Lord, don't let Martha see what I've done to my knickers."
So this spring, I'm determined to replace the tan construction paper with something of merit. Something with taste. Or, in lieu of that, something that says, "In case you hadn't figured it out yet, DeNae lives here."
But here's the thing, the most baffling aspect of living in Utah since billboards advertising LDS Foreclosure Experts: Vinyl Lettering.
Everywhere I go, the houses have these messages on their walls spelled out in fancy vinyl letters, offering all sorts inspiration and encouragement, so that the simple act of walking into someone's living room could produce the kind of existential paradigm shift normally associated with psychedelic pharmaceuticals.
And I want me some of that.
So. Here's the call to action (as is the current buzz-word in blogging, second only to 'why don't people comment any more?'):
Send me your inspirational quotes, thoughts, sayings, bromides, or anything else you've ever seen spelled out in vinyl lettering, on a bumper sticker, or in your higher end fortune cookies.
Like that "learning to dance in the rain" one. That seems to be a popular favorite, but I can't remember how it goes, exactly. Only six months in, I'm still a neophyte.
Please. Comment as many times as you can. I'm begging you, on behalf of Momza and Jana and any other hostages I may take in my nearly-unhinged state, give me something to stick on my walls so I'll have an excuse to escort George and his steaming steed out of the family room and into the garage where they can't cause any more pain.
I realize that doing this will move me that much closer to assimilation. But it's a small price to pay. And resistance, as they say, is futile.
Hey, that's a good one. Maybe I'll write that over the laundry room.
(p.s. The quote says "Speak friend and enter" in Elvish. I'm not proud of this.)