I like to think that Bianca Jagger danced at Studio 54 to this song.  With cocaine smeared all over her face and her skirt riding up her sweaty thighs and showing off the awesomeness of her without any panties on.

Which may or may not be correct, and of course I haven’t checked my dates on when the song was published, but I bet I’m right when I say that Bianca Jagger didn’t wear underpants to Studio 54.

I do need to tell you that Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five are FUCKING IMPORTANT.  And this song should be one that the youngsters of today boogie around to at school dances – just like us forty-somethings do at weddings.  Almost every wedding DJ I’ve experienced in my life spins this song.  I’m not saying they shouldn’t,  because Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five were the FIRST hip-hop group ever to be inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

So they deserve to be played at weddings.

Anyway, I just checked my facts on Wikipedia, and since “White Lines” was released in 1983, and Studio 54 shut down in 1981, it’s impossible that Bianca was gyrating to the song.  But maybe she gyrated to “White Lines” at a loft party in Manhattan or something.

Please enjoy our new video.  And I want to give a big thanks and shout out to Andy Samberg, who inspired the concept of this video with his hilarious song “Great Day” on YouTube.  I had been wanting to do “White Lines” for a long time, and when I saw his video, it was like a sonic boom in my brain – THERE WE GO!  POWDER ON THE FACE!  AND CRAZY MOMS TWEAKING!

Thanks, Andy and The Lonely Island crew.  Now would you please post our rap video as a video response on your channel??

I was slightly confused and it took me a short minute to remember what Costanza’s wallet actually looked like.

Then my jaw dropped open and and I hollered, WHAT DO YOU MEAN?   I won’t give away who this person was that called me out, but I will tell you that I didn’t buy her any drinks that night.

HA!!

When the table was laughing at my new nickname, some of them started pulling stuff out of its many hiding places for inspection.  I looked down at my bulging, 15-year old wallet and the small, reasonable section of my brain understood.

I guess my big wallet is a little out of style.  And I guess I keep too much shit in it.  It’s pretty damn fat.

I actually thought I was doing pretty well on the wallet front.  I mean, I just recently cleaned that sucker out and threw away LOTS of punch cards, receipts, business and credit cards that I hadn’t used in at least three years.  The table also laughed when Stacia pulled out some credit cards that were still hiding in there in which I HAVEN’T EVEN ACTIVATED.  Like they still have the stickers on the front and everything.

I guess I will never use a Kohl’s card or a Mervyn’s card or a Dillard’s card.  Come to think of it, I don’t think Mervyn’s is even in business any more.

I keep my old wallet because I figured that in terms of fashion, a wallet is very low on the totem pole of importance, unless you are carrying it in your hand instead of a purse.  That’s why I love the purse I got from Cami.  It holds LOTS OF SHIT, like wet wipes, sixty pens, twenty tubes of lipstick, rolls of Sweet Tarts, and iPod, a bag of nuts, and my big-ass wallet.  And there’s room to spare!

Maybe this is a good excuse to re-organize.  I can go out and buy three new smaller wallets.  Then I can put money in one, credit cards in the other, and my various plots to save myself money in the third.  I can’t say no to a punch card.  I just can’t do it.

And after reading all about George Costanza on Wikipedia (just as a refresher, you know…and I am kind of obsessed with Wikipedia), I am going to be proud to be compared to that neurotic little sucker.  I really, really love how he calls himself the “Lord of the Idiots”.

That’s so awesome.

If I am going to be somewhat of an apprentice Lord of the Idiots, I think this says a lot about the people who I hang out with.  Yes, YOU GUYS.

There’s no shame in our game, peeps.  It’s totally OK.

Let’s all revel in our idiotic stature, and lead our fiefdom of hapless subjects with pride in our lunacy and confidence that, in the end, we will WIN.  Because those Cafe Rio punch cards will get us a FREE burrito the size of Rhode Island.  And you never know…Mervyn’s may re-open someday.

April was painful.

I am insanely glad that April is over, but now that we are a few days into May I can reflect a bit and say that there were some good moments.  Funny moments.  Great moments.  And lots of learning.  When I was too sad or overwhelmed to talk, I pulled out my phone and caught bits of life.  While looking at my April Instagram pictures, I see that I caught a lot of laughter and oddball things.  Which is life.  And purely me.

So I really haven’t lost much, after all.

Here are my favorites from the month of April, including the one where my son was “counting” the ways he was going to prank me and happened to count number one on his middle finger, as well as my personal best impression of Patty Hearst.

It is a sad, sad day if you have no idea who Patty Hearst is.

I also like the cabbage booger hanging out of my nose at one of my new favorite restaurants, Sapa.  We have to see a few pics of the baby Easter chicks who have now grown up to be smelly teenagers, and I had to throw in another picture of how insanely long my friend Stacia’s tongue is.  Almost as long as mine.

Let’s all say goodbye to April and hello to sunny May.

Thank you for not deserting me after this month of pathetically low posts.

I’m going to let the darkness of April go away and focus on the many positives:  I have a beautiful new kitchen to cook in, my sister and I (and our families) are united in helping my mom get through chemo, summer is almost here, my kids are happy, I have new business ventures on the horizon, and my best friend is GOING TO HAVE A BABY.

Just when you think you can’t be surprised much anymore, the universe rocks your world and sends you a new present which you will get to kiss and hold in about six months.  I am absolutely over the moon.  And I am very much stumping for her to name the baby Piper if it is a girl.  Because a Piper always thinks there should be more Pipers around to take pictures of cabbage stuck up their nose.

In conclusion, breast cancer and the death of friends can all just go FUCK OFF.

Seriously, though.

Last week was brutal.

My mom had to have another surgery last Monday (they had to insert a permanent port for IV infusions in her chest) and it was a lot harder than we had anticipated.  My mom is soooo tiny (5’0″ and about 90 lbs.) and her skin is so thin that this stupid thing they had to insert below her collarbone looks like a damn volcano.  I mean, just imagine a square box being lodged under your skin.  For a YEAR.  Good times.

It is probably going to be tender for a long time, and we are all crossing our fingers that it doesn’t try to work its way out of her thin skin.  Her friend Mary had an ingenious idea of making my mom a big bubble-wrap collar to wear around her neck and chest.  We tape it around her ribs and it is the one thing that has helped her feel a little less scared about something hitting or bumping the horrid chest box.

Then, something else happened last Monday.

Have you ever gotten one of those phone calls from a loved one where you answer and right away you know something is horribly wrong?  They don’t even have to speak.  YOU JUST KNOW.

That happened to me when I was sitting in a little hospital room with my mom and waiting for her surgical IV’s to be started.  I got a call from my best friend Jen in Portland.  You know Jen.  I’ve written about her here and here.  We have known each other since the fifth grade and she is more like family than just a friend.  She is part of me, my spirit, my soul.  And she calls me and chokes out a couple words and I am gripped with fear, because I know something life-changing has happened.

And I was right.  Because through her tears, she told me Jimmy had died that morning.

Jimmy was Jenny’s husband for eighteen years.  He is the father of her two children.  He had been in her life for twenty-three years.  And now he’s gone.

Jen and Jimmy met on our high school senior trip to Mazatlan, Mexico.  Our East High group was down there and a Judge Memorial group was down there at the same time.  Judge is a private Catholic school here in town, and right down the street from East High.  We had some mutual friends, and when Jenny laid eyes on that kid, she was DONE.  Done.  Like, HE IS MINE.  Isn’t it funny in life the people we fall for and the experiences they lead us through?  I figure it’s all part of learning your life lessons and part of your path – whether those experiences bring you to new highs or new lows.

Jen and Jimmy were the first of our friends to get married.  They seemed so young, and they were.  Twenty-two years old.  I was one of her bridesmaids and wore a long, navy blue off-the-shoulder dress and was photographed inside the reception smoking a cigarette along with three other girlfriends in the room where the band played.  That’s how long ago their wedding was.  You could smoke INDOORS.

Even though Jenny and Jimmy have been divorced for over two years, it doesn’t make the pain and shock and anger or grief any less.  Not one bit less.  How could anyone think it would be less, just because two people aren’t married anymore?  They were a part of each other’s lives for more than half of their Earthly existence.  And now two children, ages fourteen and twelve, are facing the rest of their lives without their father.  THE REST OF THEIR LIVES.

I’m not sure if Jimmy’s story is mine to tell.  I am brutally honest when it comes to me and my own issues.  But I want to be sensitive to the fact that others are more private about their struggles, pain, and demons they can’t shake.  But I will tell you that Jimmy tried to shake them.  And Jenny tried her best for eighteen years to fight for Jimmy and his health.  It all became so hard and so dysfunctional – something had to give.  But this is their path, their journey.  Not mine.

I do want to say how lovely of a person Jimmy was.  He was gentle.  He was kind.  He loved his children so much.  He loved the outdoors and beautiful places.  He was an amazing manager of people and teams of hundreds during his 20-year career with UPS.  Jen was so proud of his accomplishments.

Jimmy called me a few weeks back and we had a great conversation.  I hadn’t spoken to him in over a year, not since he had left Portland and moved back here to Salt Lake City.  It felt really good to tell him I cared.  I told him I would always care, and that I wanted him to be happy and healthy.  I told him we were here for him if he needed us.

Jimmy also called my mom a few weeks ago because he felt so terrible about her cancer.  They had a great conversation, and laughed about old times and memories, including Mazatlan, where my mom was the East High chaperone.  My mom will never forget this conversation, and Jimmy telling her that he was praying for her and her recovery.

Jimmy, you were loved by many.  Probably more than you know.  I’m so sorry for your suffering in your time here on Earth, and I’m so sorry for the pain and struggles of the past four years.  I’m heartbroken for Carter and Nina, that they will not have you present for their graduations, their weddings, the births of their children, family dinners, and vacations.  It makes me weep.  You were a good person, Jimmy.  I really did love you.  Thank you for the beautiful children you brought into this world, and thank you for the things your life and struggles have taught me.  Because your life did teach me quite a few things.  I hope you are at peace now.

It has absolutely affected my ability to blog, work on photography, and exercise.

Well.  That sounds like a good excuse to me.

Right before we decided to move ahead with the demolition of our 1980′s extravaganza, we found out from my mom’s breast biopsy that she has breast cancer and she had immediate surgery.  This made the emptying of the kitchen and demolition a little more stressful, really because of the emotions involved of worrying about my mom and her surgery results and future.  My head was not quite in the place of thinking about cabinet doors and sink styles.

Mom’s biopsy results and resulting chemotherapy treatment coincided with the whole kitchen remodel.  When I look at the kitchen now, it feels bright, clean, happy, and warm.  This is exactly where I’m hoping my mom will be in about six months, because right now she is passing through a hell that reoccurs every three weeks.

I’ve never had the opportunity to design a kitchen.  I have actually done a little design work for some businesses and friends as well as paint consultations, but  I’m a kitchen virgin.  I trusted my general contractor and his answers to my questions, because he has been around forever and can do just about anything in the realm of handy.  What a catch for his wife.  Seriously!

The cabinet designer I chose also lent a lot of great insight and enthusiasm, and he was able to fulfill every request I threw at him for an amazing cost.  We originally were going to go with IKEA cabinets/design, but then Eric Lassig at Eurocraft Cabinetry gave us a very reasonable bid for custom cabinetry.  It is so beautiful.  Every time a door closes softly, I swoon.

I did have a vision of what I wanted in this very important room and the materials and colors I wanted to use.  I’m so in love with the color on my walls and ceiling, which Stacia calls “Baby Poo”.  I told her I like newborn babies and their poo, but even better I like this paint color by Benjamin Moore called “Ochre”.  It is funky and different and happy, and it is just what I wanted in contrast to the neutral and light materials I picked out for all my other surfaces.

I’m so beyond thrilled to have a working kitchen again I could whistle “It’s A Small World” out my bunghole.  The makeshift kitchen in the downstairs office was interesting and all…and the use of the propane camp stove in the driveway a fun novelty for the kids, but FOR REAL.  I love to cook and I love looking out my window above the sink at Mount Olympus.  Kitchens make your life so much EASIER.  Thank you, God, for not letting me live in the times of Laura Ingalls Wilder.

Like I said, washing dishes in the downstairs bathtub for six weeks sucked.  But we did it.  And Brad and I rarely fought during the whole process, for which I’m going to give us a big gold star on our marriage report card for 2013.  I have heard that remodeling is one of the biggest causes of stress in a marriage.  Seriously.  If you have gone through a huge remodel or building of a home, you might relate to this.  I even read an article online about it.

“Building or remodeling a home can be about the most stressful activity a married couple can engage in,” says Dr. Don Gilbert, a marriage counselor in West Des Moines, Iowa. 

“It has all the components that couples stress over — money, multiple decisions, and different preferences. In fact, there are so many opportunities for relationship stress during remodeling that it brings out in each person the weaknesses they may have in communication and conflict management.”  (Jan Soults Walker, Houselogic.com)

Brad probably did the right thing by just giving me full control in picking out the right stuff for the kitchen and handling all the planning while he made sure the whole thing didn’t go over budget wrote the checks.

NOW THAT’S TEAMWORK.

Now, as I give you an imaginary online drumroll, dear Ace in the Holers, I bring to you…THE NEW KITCHEN with Before and After pictures for your viewing pleasure!  I hope you love it.

(you can click on the image for a larger and clearer view)

OLD KITCHEN – BEFORE:

Buh bye, formica!  Buh bye oak trim!

NEW KITCHEN – FULL VIEW:

Countertops – quartz (color: Mocha) (by Atlas Granite)

Island Surface – granite (style: Juparana River) (by Atlas Granite)

Floors – Hickory (by Floorcraft Design)

Sink – White Farm Sink by Elkay

OLD KITCHEN – SINK:

NEW KITCHEN – SINK:

OLD KITCHEN – COUNTER “ISLAND” (PENINSULA):

NEW KITCHEN – ISLAND:

OLD KITCHEN – DINING AREA:

NEW KITCHEN – DINING AREA:

NEW METAL CHEST (love this piece!):

I like to incorporate personal pieces into each room of my house.  Do you see that funky flower painting above the metal cabinet?  That was painted by my great-grandmother, Nelle Hostetter.  I put new pictures of friends and family into frames for our shelves.  The little owl salt and pepper shakers you see in the corner near the coffee maker were given to me by my good friend Melissa.

If you live in the Salt Lake area and are interested in help with your kitchen (or any room in your house), I would be thrilled to assist you.  I have very reasonable consultation fees, and if you provide the margaritas, we will have a blast.  Feel free to contact me for design or resume information at: piper@heraceinthehole.com .

Thank you, thank you – to all of you who read – for being patient with me these past two months as I’ve neglected this little place in the Internet I call mine.  It was worth the wait.  And now we can get back to our regular crazy programming.

I guess now I have to invite you all over for dinner.

She decided she would have a quinceañera party, complete with Mexican food, a pinata, and OF COURSE, a frilly white dress.

Thrifted Vintage, of course.

She was the belle of the ball.

She even showed me her nicely shaved armpits for the occasion.

Stacia, Heather, and I were like the old crones cackling in the corner with margaritas.  I know, I know…we’re not that old, but I like to bring this up because Camilla is fifteen years younger than me – which means she was born when I was getting horrible wrap-around-the-teeth braces put in my mouth.  I didn’t smile with my mouth open for two years with those suckers.  Or get asked out on a date.  If Heather knew I had a blog and she happened to read this description of us at the party, she’d be like, SPEAK FOR YOURSELF, YOU WRINKLED HOBAG.

Anyway, going to Cami’s birthday was lots of fun.  It reminded me it’s good to have a few friends who are younger than me, because talking with them about the stuff they are going through reminds me how glad I am that I’m not in my twenties anymore.  I don’t know about you, but there’s a lot of decisions and changing happening in your twenties.  Some for the best, but that shit was hard.

Cami had some lovely friends show up to celebrate…

…but best of all was the amazing quinceañera cake Cami’s good friend Candice made for her.  Oh my god, that thing was a stoner’s dream.  Check it out.

Full of candy!  Skittles!  Hot Tamales!  Lollipops!!

I was beyond excited about the cake and made Cami light and blow out the candles because it was getting late for a school night and I had to leave.  This was at about 9:45pm.  Just about the time the rest of the young uns’ started to arrive.  I remember those days!

I took a huge piece of cake and candy on a plastic plate in my car and ate it with my fingers on the way home.  It was tits.

I tried to get a decent picture of Stacia and myself, because usually most snapshots of us look something like this:

You point a camera at the two of us when we are together and we become a couple of retarded Saturday Night Live wannabes.  In the one above, I am trying to eat my fingers because they were looking a lot like Vienna sausages in every picture Heather tried to take.

Thanks for the hands, Dad.

Thank you also to Heather, who was patient enough to keep clicking away until we got something that looked halfway normal.

Happy birthday, Cami.  I know you are full of champagne wishes and caviar dreams.  I also know that one day they will come true, my darling.