Skip to main content

Ronald McDonald

We are at the Las Vegas Ronald McDonald House. We were cleared to stay here even though Timothy was discharged.

And, wow.

It's like a hotel but with free laundry facilities, dinner prepared for you, refrigerators and pantries full of food.

Tonight we had tacos. The fixins were prepared by the Divas2Die4 Social Club.


Some random details of this Koo Koo Krazy ordeal I will highlight for you now:

Hana was in top form. Surprisingly maternal and jumped on anything I asked of her without a question or 14 year old moment.  Her spirits were high, and she hugged everyone lots. 

Timothy got trigger happy.  When all of us but him left for food, I told him how to 'push' for the nurse. Apparently, he buzzed them, um, quite a bit. When I came back even, he continued to buzz them.  I was back from picking up food and in the room when he pushed the call button, which I didn't realize till the nurse came in and Timmy asked, "When will my lunch be ready?"  Oh, dear god. 

When the rest of us went to get lunch, we all really wanted Raisin' Cane's.  The hospital was on Maryland near Flamingo. We drove in 104 degree heat (outside temp, that is) down past south end of strip. Oh, the sweat. Oh, the heat. Oh, the teen angst. We get our beloved heroin-laced chicken fingers with crinckle cut fries and Texas toast. We take the freeway back to cut down on time in the van. Almost upon arriving at the hospital -like stone's-throw distance- we are at a red light and look to our left and see another Raisin' Cane's.

When leaving the hospital, Timothy said, "Thank you for everything," to the nurses and doc.  Then he hugged his sisters, Hana's friend, and his mom.  "Thank you for taking me to the hospital, mom." Oh, sweetie, will you ever really know how much I love you?

Redlands will still be there tomorrow. Thank you, RMH- The House That Love Built.


  1. Oh, I love this post. I'm glad Mr. Timmy is feeling better. We will miss you.


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Counterfeit Experience of the Straight Spouse

The conversation has to continue as long as the wrong people keep bringing it up (April 2017, Ensign pg. 33).

The further I get from my experience in a mixed-orientation marriage, the more acute my understanding of how my experience, as the straight spouse, is and was marginalized.

Don't get me wrong! I'm the biggest cheerleader for the gay spouse, feeling trapped and unable to live authentically.  I'm the one banging on the other side of the closet door, begging, "Sweetheart, come on.  Stop doing this to yourself.  It's 2017 and depression or suicide is so unnecessary for THIS." 

But there are also the experiences of the men and women who are/were the straight spouse, like... Ashley 1.0.

We aren't living authentically either.

And our suffering and scars don't seem too important. You may have read about how I super duper wanted to drive my mini-van off of Cedar mountain. 

If you're just joining this conversation:  No, it is not just about sex. …

In Which I Feel Compelled to Start a Blog Because of a Club and a Unicorn...

My name is Ashley.  I was Mormon for the first 36 years of my life.

Yep, I was baptized when I was 8.  I went to BYU where I received a Bachelors in Theatre.  I married a returned missionary in the Mt. Timpanogas Temple.  We were full tithe payers.  I fulfilled several callings diligently, including serving as Primary President for 2 years.

About a year after my divorce, I was chatting with my new bishop, who I had known for several years prior to that.  He asked me, "So, Ashley, why did you and Matt get divorced?"

I replied, "Matt is a homosexual."

I just looked him in the eye after I said this and waited a few seconds while he absorbed it.

Then he asked, "Well, was there another problem as well?  Like drinking? Or gambling?"
I looked him in the eye a second time and replied, "Nope.  Just that."

He was genuinely confused.


I was in a mixed-orientation marriage- a marriage between someone who is gay and someone who i…

The White Man

Let's leave this ambiguous.

Also, I'm not gonna tell you about experiences that took place with just one white man. For this, I'll make it one lumpy conceptual White Cisgender Heterosexual Conservative Male (cue the music from the 'Beef-It's What's For Dinner!' music).

In the work force, I have to deal with him. I have to play the game of diplomacy without compromising who I am. If it's mental gymnastics, it's the balance beam in heels with someone patting me on the head saying, "Gosh, I just don't know how you do that! I never could do that! But here are some pointers! Hey! Why did you do it like that?? Why aren't you listening?"

...but I just keep doing my thing.

Utah is the type of prime real estate, and certainly not the most prime, where this guy is King. Everything around him is his dominion. He is not a part of a group that is marginalized. For those of you who do not understand what I mean, I'll present you with the ext…