If you are a Facebook user then you have probably seen the application called 'My Year In Status'. It's a cute app that makes a collage of your statuses through the year. Several of my Facebook Friends have done theirs. I've found them fun to read and reminisce. I've done mine. I've actually done it several times. I click the application link, I allow 'My Year In Status', I wait for my collage to be generated, and then...I read it. Disappointed with the collage, I edit my applications, remove 'My Year In Status', and start again. Over and over, day after day, I go through the same process.
Every time it starts out just fine. "is gonna woop up on K with her Yu-Gi-Oh deck...go zombies!" It then has a blip in there about when I stuck a fork through my thumb, that was a classic this year. I'm quoted as having "the best husband ever." Then, the reality of this roller-coaster year sets in. You see the next status is about Nathan having an allergic reaction to exercising and I'm wondering if I should rush him to the ER. I'm also sending out prayers to The Goddess of Good Runs. I ran more last year then I have since I was eight months pregnant and in a life changing car accident. Let's not forget about the time when The Olson Family of 5 was almost not a family of 5...actually that is where I always stop. It's hard to read much further. Sure it gets funnier. It talks about my love of White Castle, what a great sissy I have, Bailey the Bendy Dog is mentioned, and there's a quote about friendship.
BUT....I can not get past the quote "hence I am no longer a family of five...weird...but true". It brings tears to my eyes and a stabbing pain in my chest. It's hard to imagine that some time this past year I was gone from my family. It's painful to remember being separated from my husband and not a daily part of my kids' lives. I want that part of my life erased. In fact, I was so adamant about erasing it I went to my profile page thinking if I could just keep clicking 'older posts' I could get back to that part of my life and delete it. I spent hours clicking and deleting, but Facebook only lets you go back so far....and for me, it wasn't far enough.
So here I am. The facts are that I was painfully separated from my husband and my family this last year. The facts are that Nathan and I have each worked hard to become better people individually to make a better couple together. The facts are that even though those few months of my life were horribly painful, they are a part of my life...
Christmas Card Evny
Yes, it's true. I have it. You see once upon a time I actually made and sent out Christmas cards. I think I only did it once. They were handmade. I spent days and days on them. I used really nice paper, hand stamped them, and then used watercolor pencils to color/paint them. I was pretty proud of myself. I even made Nathan pass them out at his work. Ok, to be honest they were pretty sad looking. They didn't look anything like what I had imagined. They were a cross between 'Obsessed Stampin' Up Lady' and 'Kindergarten Holiday Project'. Poor Nathan - glad he was a good sport about it.
This year we received not one, but two, fantastic Christmas cards. The first one was from the Gleasons. Man that card was cool. I loved the comic book look to it! It was fun to read, had great photos, and I got a real feeling to how their year has gone. Plus I haven't seen Dave and Nancy in about twenty years, so it was nice to *see* old friends again.
The other one was from the Beck-O'Sullivan Family. They sent out their version of 'Twas Night Before Christmas'. I'm in love with it. The poem gives me such an amazing visual. I can actually see each of their kids - climbing the table and trying to hang from the chandelier, sledding - and coming back with a toothless grin, and texting, texting, texting.
So, maybe next year I'll dust off the ol' stamp pad and send out a kitchy card...then again, probably not.
This year we received not one, but two, fantastic Christmas cards. The first one was from the Gleasons. Man that card was cool. I loved the comic book look to it! It was fun to read, had great photos, and I got a real feeling to how their year has gone. Plus I haven't seen Dave and Nancy in about twenty years, so it was nice to *see* old friends again.
The other one was from the Beck-O'Sullivan Family. They sent out their version of 'Twas Night Before Christmas'. I'm in love with it. The poem gives me such an amazing visual. I can actually see each of their kids - climbing the table and trying to hang from the chandelier, sledding - and coming back with a toothless grin, and texting, texting, texting.
So, maybe next year I'll dust off the ol' stamp pad and send out a kitchy card...then again, probably not.
Happy Spring!
Yeah, I know 'technically' today is the First Day of Winter, BUT...it is also known as the Winter Solstice. The Winter Solstice is the shortest day of the year. For those of us who dread Winter (with it's icy cold temps, mounds of snow, and dark skies) today is a day of celebration. From now on out the days begin to get loooonger. So 'chin up' fellow Winter Haters, we're gonna be okay. It only gets better from this day on. I pinky promise.
Close Only Counts In...
Horseshoes and Hand Grenades....or my blog. I had started out this particular string of blogging as a challenge to myself: Blog Every Day For Thirty Days. I wanted to get over my fear of writer's block and see if I had it in me to find *something* to write about every day. I'm proud of the fact that I didn't pre-write anything, (hoping that I could use those pre-written blogs for days there was nothing to write about or when I went out of town over this past weekend). I'm also proud of my writing progress. I plan to continue blogging on a more regular schedule, but I will be doing it on a much less intense pace. Thanks for hanging in there during the last month and I hope you continue to read :)
Tutus and Tiaras~
The MFP
Tutus and Tiaras~
The MFP
Yes, As a Matter of Fact I *Do* Love Rockband
For those of you who know me well, this is not a surprising thing to hear. The surprise is that the other night Nathan and I figured out that not only do I 'air Rockband' (as in air guitar) but I also Rockband in my sleep.
Nathan: "You sure were cute last night."
Me: "huh?"
Nathan: "When you fell asleep, you were still snuggling with me [awhhh....how sweet] and you started twitching. Then it was mostly just your fingers that were twitching. In a weird sort of tapping way."
[From here the pattern of the conversation changed. You see, Nathan's been working a lot of hours lately and he's also been sick for almost a week. His brain is pretty fried and he's totally exhausted.]
Nathan continued: "I 'thought' you might be playing Rockband in your sleep. Your head moved so I said, 'Are you sleeping?' Then she said, 'uh! what?!?!' So I asked her what she was doing?" [Did he just refer to me in third party?]
Nathan: "She tried denying it." [Yep, he's totally talking about me in third party. I start to giggle.]"What?"
Me: "You keep referring to me as *she*."
Nathan: "Huh, weird. So anyways, she then starts mumbling about some song. I ask her - crap...I did it again. I said *she*."
Me: [unable to control giggling] "yep"
Nathan: "Okay, YOU started mumbling about the song you were playing. YOU said something like 'Night Lies' and then she said, 'I don't even LIKE that song!' and she rolled over and fell back asleep. Why-do-I-keep-saying-*she*?!?!?"
Me: "I dunno, but you know I'm gonna blog about this, right?"
Nathan: "Yeah, I know. Can you mention the fact that I've been working a lot and I've been sick and I'm really tired?"
Me: "Sure" [still giggling]
And now we know just exactly how much she loves Rockband! I mean me! I LOVE ROCKBAND!!!
Nathan: "You sure were cute last night."
Me: "huh?"
Nathan: "When you fell asleep, you were still snuggling with me [awhhh....how sweet] and you started twitching. Then it was mostly just your fingers that were twitching. In a weird sort of tapping way."
[From here the pattern of the conversation changed. You see, Nathan's been working a lot of hours lately and he's also been sick for almost a week. His brain is pretty fried and he's totally exhausted.]
Nathan continued: "I 'thought' you might be playing Rockband in your sleep. Your head moved so I said, 'Are you sleeping?' Then she said, 'uh! what?!?!' So I asked her what she was doing?" [Did he just refer to me in third party?]
Nathan: "She tried denying it." [Yep, he's totally talking about me in third party. I start to giggle.]"What?"
Me: "You keep referring to me as *she*."
Nathan: "Huh, weird. So anyways, she then starts mumbling about some song. I ask her - crap...I did it again. I said *she*."
Me: [unable to control giggling] "yep"
Nathan: "Okay, YOU started mumbling about the song you were playing. YOU said something like 'Night Lies' and then she said, 'I don't even LIKE that song!' and she rolled over and fell back asleep. Why-do-I-keep-saying-*she*?!?!?"
Me: "I dunno, but you know I'm gonna blog about this, right?"
Nathan: "Yeah, I know. Can you mention the fact that I've been working a lot and I've been sick and I'm really tired?"
Me: "Sure" [still giggling]
And now we know just exactly how much she loves Rockband! I mean me! I LOVE ROCKBAND!!!
A Conversation with a Teen
This morning The Artist (my teen-age stepdaughter) and I had a conversation that went something like this:
The Artist: "blah blah blah blah blah...."
Me: "I have no idea what you just said. I wasn't listening."
The Artist: "Good thing you weren't listening."
Me: [was able to contain my hysterical laughter, but did let a small smile out]
You see, we weren't having any sort of disagreement. She just happened to be having some sort of struggle that she needed to voice. Kids don't always do or say or act exactly like we want them to - when we want them to. Hell, there are times when I don't act exactly like I would like myself to. I try to take the time to understand that my children are people. They have their own ideas, agendas, goals, and dreams. Sure there are things I can say to them to 'hopefully' quicken their learning curve, but in the end their choices are just that...theirs. So the next time your child doesn't do what you want them to, when you want them to - or they let out a little verbal frustration....just remember, they might have plans for their lives besides the plans you have for them.
The Artist: "blah blah blah blah blah...."
Me: "I have no idea what you just said. I wasn't listening."
The Artist: "Good thing you weren't listening."
Me: [was able to contain my hysterical laughter, but did let a small smile out]
You see, we weren't having any sort of disagreement. She just happened to be having some sort of struggle that she needed to voice. Kids don't always do or say or act exactly like we want them to - when we want them to. Hell, there are times when I don't act exactly like I would like myself to. I try to take the time to understand that my children are people. They have their own ideas, agendas, goals, and dreams. Sure there are things I can say to them to 'hopefully' quicken their learning curve, but in the end their choices are just that...theirs. So the next time your child doesn't do what you want them to, when you want them to - or they let out a little verbal frustration....just remember, they might have plans for their lives besides the plans you have for them.
The First Mile Marker
The first would be *back on the training schedule*, (except I don't really do schedules) mile rocked my face off. I took it slow and did it on the elliptical machine. I layered it between both the recumbent and the upright stationary bikes. It was bliss.
I love running (or even pretending to run on the elliptical machine). I love the fact that running is hard to do. I like it that I'm unable to text while I run, or read my book. It's just me, with myself and the tunes. I like pushing myself hard, past the point of pain and into vast physical numbness and complete mental strength. I especially liked it today when I got to .98 miles and I was sad. I wanted those last .02 miles go as slow as possible. I liked leaving the gym exhausted, sweaty, and having completely given it my all. I like it that not everyone is a 'runner' and I'm happy to say that I *am* a runner. Look out Half Marathon...I'm gonna run you!
I love running (or even pretending to run on the elliptical machine). I love the fact that running is hard to do. I like it that I'm unable to text while I run, or read my book. It's just me, with myself and the tunes. I like pushing myself hard, past the point of pain and into vast physical numbness and complete mental strength. I especially liked it today when I got to .98 miles and I was sad. I wanted those last .02 miles go as slow as possible. I liked leaving the gym exhausted, sweaty, and having completely given it my all. I like it that not everyone is a 'runner' and I'm happy to say that I *am* a runner. Look out Half Marathon...I'm gonna run you!
Salsa Time
Okay, not to brag, but I make fan-freaking-tastic salsa. It's nothing fancy, but I guarantee it is the best salsa ever! When fresh tomatoes are good, I use a whole bunch of them. I'm not sure really how many I use, but it's quite a few. If they aren't in season I use two big cans of petite diced tomatoes. I then add one green bell pepper and one white onion, finely chopped. Toss in any where from one to three jalapeno peppers -depending on how spicy I'm feeling- (seeded and also finely chopped), a bunch of cilantro, a few cloves of crushed garlic, and salt/pepper to taste. YUM!
I made some today in between weight lifting, running a kid to the doctor, homeschooling, making lunch, and hitting the gym. Tonight I added it to our venison 'Chipotle-style' burritos and yippee!!!
I made some today in between weight lifting, running a kid to the doctor, homeschooling, making lunch, and hitting the gym. Tonight I added it to our venison 'Chipotle-style' burritos and yippee!!!
It All Depends On How You Look At It
This year at the Olson household (as with many other households) money is a little tight. We've been making cutbacks and re-arranging our budget. We haven't gone out and done anything crazy, like canceling cable, but we have been making some modest choices. One of these choices is the refusal to buy more Christmas paper.
You see, for some reason I have an obsessive compulsive thing with saving scraps of Christmas paper. We have more scraps then actual rolls. When we decided to wrap presents the other night, we realized exactly how low we are on good pieces of Christmas paper. We have a lot of three inch by six inch pieces, but a nice good square at least one foot by one foot?....it's not happening. Nathan looked at me with a worried expression. I said, "I've got one partial roll hidden in our closet." Whew, we have enough paper for a couple of the bigger gifts. We wrap those gifts and then....silence.
"Ha!" I scream, "I got it! It's not scraps of paper cheaply taped together. It's mosaic wrapping! IT'S ART!"
I just saved us five bucks. Nathan just smiles. Good thing he loves me.
You see, for some reason I have an obsessive compulsive thing with saving scraps of Christmas paper. We have more scraps then actual rolls. When we decided to wrap presents the other night, we realized exactly how low we are on good pieces of Christmas paper. We have a lot of three inch by six inch pieces, but a nice good square at least one foot by one foot?....it's not happening. Nathan looked at me with a worried expression. I said, "I've got one partial roll hidden in our closet." Whew, we have enough paper for a couple of the bigger gifts. We wrap those gifts and then....silence.
"Ha!" I scream, "I got it! It's not scraps of paper cheaply taped together. It's mosaic wrapping! IT'S ART!"
I just saved us five bucks. Nathan just smiles. Good thing he loves me.
Book Review 2
Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen was a very interesting book. I thought this particular sentence written on the back of the book was a perfect description: "Girl, Interrupted is a clear-sighted, unflinching document that gives lasting and specific dimension to our definitions of sane and insane, mental illness and recovery." Because I'm sure that most of us at some point in our lives have asked the question, "Am I sane?"
In this book, Susanna (at age 18), was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and spent 18 months in the mental ward of a 'high class' hospital. One of my favorite parts of this book was when Susanna quoted her diagnosis: "Uncertainty about several life issues, such as self-image, sexual orientation, long-term goals or career choice, types of friends or lovers to have..." She goes on to say, "Isn't this a good description of adolescence? Moody, fickle, faddish, insecure: in short, impossible."
You couldn't pay me enough money to go back to adolescence....because I'm pretty sure *that* part of all our lives was a little bit crazy.
*Apparently the book was made into a movie. I have yet to see the movie, but it will be put into the Netflix queue right now.*
In this book, Susanna (at age 18), was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and spent 18 months in the mental ward of a 'high class' hospital. One of my favorite parts of this book was when Susanna quoted her diagnosis: "Uncertainty about several life issues, such as self-image, sexual orientation, long-term goals or career choice, types of friends or lovers to have..." She goes on to say, "Isn't this a good description of adolescence? Moody, fickle, faddish, insecure: in short, impossible."
You couldn't pay me enough money to go back to adolescence....because I'm pretty sure *that* part of all our lives was a little bit crazy.
*Apparently the book was made into a movie. I have yet to see the movie, but it will be put into the Netflix queue right now.*
Book Reviews
I've never done a book review before, so I'll do my best not spoil either of the two books I'm about to review. I was debating on if I should review the book that I didn't like so much or the book that touched something inside of me, but in a weird and awkward way. I decided to do both, one today and one tomorrow.
First up is Life Laughs (The Naked Truth About Motherhood, Marriage, and Moving On) by Jenny McCarthy. I was hoping for a rip-roaring great book, something on the level of Jen Lancaster (who is one of my most favorite authors....ever).
If Jenny McCarthy is up for the 'naked truth', her book sucked. I'm done with the constant bitching about men. I'm done putting all men in the "Mr. Potato Head" category. Attention Ms. McCarthy, there are some pretty good guys out there. I feel sorry for you because you married a slob, who is unable to decorate the house to your desires, take care of you or your baby, or even wash a load of laundry. Good for you for divorcing a man like that and moving on (oops...spoiler). As for the rest of the book, yes I'll admit it, you did have one or two funny moments, but most of your book read like most of your orgasms...fake and un-entertaining.
First up is Life Laughs (The Naked Truth About Motherhood, Marriage, and Moving On) by Jenny McCarthy. I was hoping for a rip-roaring great book, something on the level of Jen Lancaster (who is one of my most favorite authors....ever).
If Jenny McCarthy is up for the 'naked truth', her book sucked. I'm done with the constant bitching about men. I'm done putting all men in the "Mr. Potato Head" category. Attention Ms. McCarthy, there are some pretty good guys out there. I feel sorry for you because you married a slob, who is unable to decorate the house to your desires, take care of you or your baby, or even wash a load of laundry. Good for you for divorcing a man like that and moving on (oops...spoiler). As for the rest of the book, yes I'll admit it, you did have one or two funny moments, but most of your book read like most of your orgasms...fake and un-entertaining.
Counting Down
I hurt my ankle this summer and being the *can't slow me down* type of person I am, I've had a little trouble letting it heal. Last month I vowed to stay off it for 30 days. (What's up with me and all this 30 Days business?) Even though I've been frustrated and bored with the stationary bike I'm happy to say I only have 5 days left! The anticipation I feel about getting on the elliptical machine for the first time in 30 days is intense. I can't wait to do a 'proper' workout. Look out elliptical machine, treadmill, and stairmaster....only a few more days and here I come!
Sorry
I love games. One of my all time favorites is Sorry and this is why: Even if it looks like you are destined to lose, you might end up the winner.
For example, today I was playing Sorry and eating sugar cookies with my oldest (The Social Guy) and my youngest (The Brainiac). They each had three of their pawns at home with only one more pawn to go. I, on the other hand, had three pawns at start and only one home. Guess who won? ME!
Because Sorry is just like 'life'....sometimes it might look and feel like you're losing, but you just can't tell how, when, or where you'll end the game.
For example, today I was playing Sorry and eating sugar cookies with my oldest (The Social Guy) and my youngest (The Brainiac). They each had three of their pawns at home with only one more pawn to go. I, on the other hand, had three pawns at start and only one home. Guess who won? ME!
Because Sorry is just like 'life'....sometimes it might look and feel like you're losing, but you just can't tell how, when, or where you'll end the game.
"I'm Not Crazy...
I'm an artist!" This was a Facebook status of mine awhile back and every day I wish it would be true. You see, I want to be *that* artist so badly. Not only do I want to witness things with different eyes, I want to show myself in new, bold ways. I want to please the senses and take you on a journey. I want you to taste an entire quiche in just one bite. I want to make you daydream while looking at one of my mosaics. I want you to smile, laugh, or cry while reading my blog. I want to challenge you to be unique and love who you are. But most of all I want to make you feel...
Today I was moved by a brilliant artist. She made me feel. I dare you to disagree. Go ahead and check out her blog:
Everything is Better with a Boa
Today I was moved by a brilliant artist. She made me feel. I dare you to disagree. Go ahead and check out her blog:
Everything is Better with a Boa
Family Business
We opened a family business a couple weeks ago. We did it without a business plan or start up capital, in fact it happened by accident. I hadn't even realized what I was doing as I was setting it up. You see, our family now owns and operates 'The MFP Eatery' in Cafe World on Facebook. We all take turns making food, waiting tables, and decorating the cafe. It's been fun and cute watching the kids decide what to cook and how to lay out the tables, chairs, kitchen, and waiting station so that we get the quickest service and highest buzz rating.
We've cooked too many dishes and we've had to toss some out. We've gone from a buzz rating of over 100, all the way down to about 30. Our daily conversation has been spiced up with questions like:
"How much longer on that roast?" "How many more servings of fruit salad are there?" "Should we get more Christmas decorations?" "Hey, what's the current buzz rating?" "Did you get something on the stove?" "What are you cooking?"
Have you ever started something little and silly for yourself and have it turn into a fun, family event?
***We're still working a bit on the new layout. If you are having trouble commenting on the blog, try hitting the 'tab' key for the verification word to show up correctly. Thanks for your patience.***
We've cooked too many dishes and we've had to toss some out. We've gone from a buzz rating of over 100, all the way down to about 30. Our daily conversation has been spiced up with questions like:
"How much longer on that roast?" "How many more servings of fruit salad are there?" "Should we get more Christmas decorations?" "Hey, what's the current buzz rating?" "Did you get something on the stove?" "What are you cooking?"
Have you ever started something little and silly for yourself and have it turn into a fun, family event?
***We're still working a bit on the new layout. If you are having trouble commenting on the blog, try hitting the 'tab' key for the verification word to show up correctly. Thanks for your patience.***
Bored
I get bored. I used to tell my kids that only boring people get bored. That's not true. I made a commitment to stay 'off' my ankle for a whole thirty days, which means only the stationary bike for me. Well....I'm bored. Good thing is, I've beaten boredom by bringing books with me to the gym. Yes. I'm *that* girl who brings her iPod (actually it's my sister's iPod, but that is another post), phone, and books to the gym. You see, sitting on that bike is sooooo boring. I must do something to distract myself from every.single.minute. I have read three books this week (actually I've only read two and a half, but *three* sounded so much better). I'm hoping the library will not run out of books by the time I get to move to the elliptical.
This week I've read:
Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen
Life Laughs by Jenny McCarthy
Petal Pusher by Laurie Lindeen
Look forward to a few book reviews later this week! oh, and if you have anything you would like to recommend, PLEASE DO! ::writing note to readers:: I don't really care for murder mystery types or Harlequin novels, but I seem to be attracted to biographies....just so you know ;) oh, and if I post on Facebook that I'm headed to the gym, feel free to text me!
This week I've read:
Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen
Life Laughs by Jenny McCarthy
Petal Pusher by Laurie Lindeen
Look forward to a few book reviews later this week! oh, and if you have anything you would like to recommend, PLEASE DO! ::writing note to readers:: I don't really care for murder mystery types or Harlequin novels, but I seem to be attracted to biographies....just so you know ;) oh, and if I post on Facebook that I'm headed to the gym, feel free to text me!
Morning People vs Non-Morning People
There are two types of people in this world. The Morning People and the Non-Morning People. You know who they are. The Morning People get up and out of bed with ease when their alarm clock rings. They slide into the bathroom without a care in the world. They take their time eating breakfast and putting on their make-up. You can hear them whistling and humming like Disney's Sleeping Beauty. They wish you a "Good Morning" and have welcoming smiles. They encourage conversations in their perky, little morning voices....
And then there are the Non-Morning People. I like to refer to them as the Night People. Let's play up their strengths, not their weaknesses. They set the time on their alarm clock fast, trying to trick themselves into getting up early. They hit snooze, a lot. When they finally drag their arses out of bed there are no smiles, or humming, or singing, or conversation, or ANY NOISE AT ALL. They are lucky if they can toss on eye liner and mascara, let alone get themselves "airbrushed" for the day. And breakfast? They don't have time for breakfast.
And while I admire the Morning People for their bubbly morning charm, personally I would rather rock it out with the Night People, sleep until noon, and eat brunch.
And then there are the Non-Morning People. I like to refer to them as the Night People. Let's play up their strengths, not their weaknesses. They set the time on their alarm clock fast, trying to trick themselves into getting up early. They hit snooze, a lot. When they finally drag their arses out of bed there are no smiles, or humming, or singing, or conversation, or ANY NOISE AT ALL. They are lucky if they can toss on eye liner and mascara, let alone get themselves "airbrushed" for the day. And breakfast? They don't have time for breakfast.
And while I admire the Morning People for their bubbly morning charm, personally I would rather rock it out with the Night People, sleep until noon, and eat brunch.
Is that a surprise in your pocket?
Oh, why yes it is! Don't you just love it when you stick your hand in your winter coat pocket and find a surprise that has waited for you through Spring, Summer, and Fall? I know I do. It's probably about the only thing I like in winter! When I stuck my hand in my winter coat today, I found a half container of Tic Tacs and some cute pink lip-gloss. The best surprises are cold, hard, cash, but I'm a lip-gloss junkie so this is a pretty good score for me. So what have you been surprised with in your pockets?
Suddenly I See
Different songs 'hit' me at different times of my life. (Okay to be honest they hit me different each hour.) Right now I'm particularly drawn to KT TUNSTALL Suddenly I See
The lyrics are fantastic and the beat just gets me going. When I hear it I think of the beautiful girl I want to be. I think of spreading light to people I know and meet. I think of being a powerful, tower of strength and hope.
"Suddenly I See"
Her face is a map of the world
Is a map of the world
You can see she's a beautiful girl
She's a beautiful girl
And everything around her is a silver pool of light
The people who surround her feel the benefit of it
It makes you calm
She holds you captivated in her palm
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
This is what I wanna be
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
Why the hell it means so much to me
I feel like walking the world
Like walking the world
You can hear she's a beautiful girl
She's a beautiful girl
She fills up every corner like she's born in black and white
Makes you feel warmer when you're trying to remember
What you heard
She likes to leave you hanging on her word
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
This is what I wanna be
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
Why the hell it means so much to me
And she's taller than most
And she's looking at me
I can see her eyes looking from a page in a magazine
Oh she makes me feel like I could be a tower
A big strong tower
She got the power to be
The power to give
The power to see
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
This is what I wanna be
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
Why the hell it means so much to me
Are you a music lover? Are there songs that speak to you?
The lyrics are fantastic and the beat just gets me going. When I hear it I think of the beautiful girl I want to be. I think of spreading light to people I know and meet. I think of being a powerful, tower of strength and hope.
"Suddenly I See"
Her face is a map of the world
Is a map of the world
You can see she's a beautiful girl
She's a beautiful girl
And everything around her is a silver pool of light
The people who surround her feel the benefit of it
It makes you calm
She holds you captivated in her palm
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
This is what I wanna be
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
Why the hell it means so much to me
I feel like walking the world
Like walking the world
You can hear she's a beautiful girl
She's a beautiful girl
She fills up every corner like she's born in black and white
Makes you feel warmer when you're trying to remember
What you heard
She likes to leave you hanging on her word
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
This is what I wanna be
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
Why the hell it means so much to me
And she's taller than most
And she's looking at me
I can see her eyes looking from a page in a magazine
Oh she makes me feel like I could be a tower
A big strong tower
She got the power to be
The power to give
The power to see
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
This is what I wanna be
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
Why the hell it means so much to me
Are you a music lover? Are there songs that speak to you?
Free Gym Buddy
Attention lady at the gym looking for a gym-buddy:
If I was interested in a gym-buddy I would enter the gym with a skip in my step, smiling and waiving. I would also:
a. not bring a book
b. not bring an iPod
c. not keep my eyes to my book, iPod, recumbent bike, or cell phone
So when you ask me (while I have ear-buds in) what book I'm reading, I won't hear you. Not only that, but when I do finally figure out that you are trying to get my attention I will think that I forgot to put my cell phone ringer on silent or that my child was clocked in the face with a basketball in the next gym. I will panic, ripping the ear-buds out. The music will have been on way too loud, so I will slightly yell, "What?" in that anxiety stricken voice. And when you say, "What book are you reading?" I will not answer you. I will just show you the cover of the book - which was already facing you! And when you ask me, "Is it any good? I heard it was good." I will give you the "what-the-f@ck?" look and say in an exasperated voice, "I don't know. I just started it." I will then turn back to my book, iPod, recumbent bike, and cell phone. I might even text somebody, letting them know what a dumb ass you are.
If I was interested in a gym-buddy I would enter the gym with a skip in my step, smiling and waiving. I would also:
a. not bring a book
b. not bring an iPod
c. not keep my eyes to my book, iPod, recumbent bike, or cell phone
So when you ask me (while I have ear-buds in) what book I'm reading, I won't hear you. Not only that, but when I do finally figure out that you are trying to get my attention I will think that I forgot to put my cell phone ringer on silent or that my child was clocked in the face with a basketball in the next gym. I will panic, ripping the ear-buds out. The music will have been on way too loud, so I will slightly yell, "What?" in that anxiety stricken voice. And when you say, "What book are you reading?" I will not answer you. I will just show you the cover of the book - which was already facing you! And when you ask me, "Is it any good? I heard it was good." I will give you the "what-the-f@ck?" look and say in an exasperated voice, "I don't know. I just started it." I will then turn back to my book, iPod, recumbent bike, and cell phone. I might even text somebody, letting them know what a dumb ass you are.
Shape Up Help?
There's an ad in our community education brochure for a group personal training class. You pay a slightly reasonable amount and get the following benefits:
*Scheduled workouts led by Certified Personal Trainers and Group Fitness Instructors in yoga, strength training, and cardio
*Be required to turn in daily meal plans for feedback - I'm wondering if you can just turn in any old 'meal plan' or if you are required to turn in what you 'actually' ate...just kidding.
*Be given tools to help produce lean muscle, increase energy, and see results
The Biggest Loser lover in me says, "YES! I wonder if they would go all Jillian or Bob on me?" The realist says, "I already know what I need to do. I just need to get off my arse and do it."
So my questions include: Why does this personal training thing sound so much more attractive to me then doing it on my own? Do I really need to email my food log to someone and have them tell me, "Kimberly, I don't think several glasses of wine, paired with late night snacks, is a *good* idea?" or any of the following:
"How about if you actually get up in the morning, re-establishing your morning yoga routine?"
"I know lifting weights isn't your favorite, but seriously you know it's the best way to produce lean muscle mass."
"I understand your life is busy, but you need to make time for your health."
"I know your bored with the recumbent bike, but if you're to achieve your goal of running a half-marathon this coming up spring you need to let your foot heal, duh."
"Speaking of the half-marathon...I don't think you want to run it at this weight, just sayin'."
Reality is that I need to figure this out for myself, on my own. It's damn time to quit lallygagging around and kick it in the ass for once and for all.
*Scheduled workouts led by Certified Personal Trainers and Group Fitness Instructors in yoga, strength training, and cardio
*Be required to turn in daily meal plans for feedback - I'm wondering if you can just turn in any old 'meal plan' or if you are required to turn in what you 'actually' ate...just kidding.
*Be given tools to help produce lean muscle, increase energy, and see results
The Biggest Loser lover in me says, "YES! I wonder if they would go all Jillian or Bob on me?" The realist says, "I already know what I need to do. I just need to get off my arse and do it."
So my questions include: Why does this personal training thing sound so much more attractive to me then doing it on my own? Do I really need to email my food log to someone and have them tell me, "Kimberly, I don't think several glasses of wine, paired with late night snacks, is a *good* idea?" or any of the following:
"How about if you actually get up in the morning, re-establishing your morning yoga routine?"
"I know lifting weights isn't your favorite, but seriously you know it's the best way to produce lean muscle mass."
"I understand your life is busy, but you need to make time for your health."
"I know your bored with the recumbent bike, but if you're to achieve your goal of running a half-marathon this coming up spring you need to let your foot heal, duh."
"Speaking of the half-marathon...I don't think you want to run it at this weight, just sayin'."
Reality is that I need to figure this out for myself, on my own. It's damn time to quit lallygagging around and kick it in the ass for once and for all.
Dear Brett Farve and Randy Moss;
I would have liked it if the two of you would have co-ordinated coming to Minnesota together this year. You see, even though I'm a Viking fan, Brett Farve...You have *always* been my Football Quarterback Crush. How many times were the Packers loosing by a field goal or a touch down and the winning team (usually the Vikes) gave you just over a minute left on the clock? And do you know what I screamed at the tv every time? "YOU SCORED TOO EARLY! YOU IDIOTS! YOU CAN *NOT* GIVE BRETT FARVE THAT MUCH TIME!" Brett Farve, you might just be the perfect 'Minute Man'.
..and as far as receivers go: Randy Moss all the way baby! The jump, the toe scrape to stay in-bound, the freaky speed, the hands, the hanging of the gloves from his face-mask, the hair, how can you go wrong with corn-rows or the afro?! (Can we just forget about the slightly bad behavior?) I will always *heart* you Randy Moss...
So, I know it's too late for this year, but I know Brett ain't done playing and Randy deserves a real quarterback, an awesome defense, and fantastic offensive line, plus a few other 'stars' to take the heat off. So, whatdaya say boys, next year?
..and as far as receivers go: Randy Moss all the way baby! The jump, the toe scrape to stay in-bound, the freaky speed, the hands, the hanging of the gloves from his face-mask, the hair, how can you go wrong with corn-rows or the afro?! (Can we just forget about the slightly bad behavior?) I will always *heart* you Randy Moss...
So, I know it's too late for this year, but I know Brett ain't done playing and Randy deserves a real quarterback, an awesome defense, and fantastic offensive line, plus a few other 'stars' to take the heat off. So, whatdaya say boys, next year?
Ho Hum
That's how I'm feeling about my blog layout. HO FREAKING HUM. It's not at all how I would like it to look. It actually makes me sad to log onto my blog, seeing the dreary colors and sadness of how it all looks. Today I was blessed by a friend who said, "Hey, want me to help you with the look of your blog?"
"HELLZ YES!", is what I said!
The part of this story that gets me all bleary eyed and goose-bumped is that my friend and I had talked awhile back about doing some updates to my blog. BUT...Reality called and said we were both just *too* busy with life to take the time out for my silly little blog. Tonight my friend happened to bring it up again. It was as though she could feel that although I was writing again, there was a part of me that was still not in love with my blog. Isn't that what a friend is supposed to do? Look at what you are doing, support it, and help you if she can :)
Get yourselves ready for some updating and a little bling from the MFP and Friend!
"HELLZ YES!", is what I said!
The part of this story that gets me all bleary eyed and goose-bumped is that my friend and I had talked awhile back about doing some updates to my blog. BUT...Reality called and said we were both just *too* busy with life to take the time out for my silly little blog. Tonight my friend happened to bring it up again. It was as though she could feel that although I was writing again, there was a part of me that was still not in love with my blog. Isn't that what a friend is supposed to do? Look at what you are doing, support it, and help you if she can :)
Get yourselves ready for some updating and a little bling from the MFP and Friend!
Promises, Promises
Last week I promised myself that I would blog everyday for 30 days. I missed yesterday. I could tell you all the *reasons* why, but I don't think they really matter that much. I will tell you a few things I learned about myself yesterday.
1. I'm a night person. I have the most energy in the early evening and at night. I feel my most creative then. I like to write then.
2. I will need to plan ahead if I know I'm going to be busy in the evening and get my blog out earlier in the day. Or be okay with writing while entertaining? (no.)
3. I have a lot of insecurities. I want to know of the people who came over last night had a good time. Did they like me? Did they like my house? Do they like my husband? Do their husbands like us? Will they come back? And what if they didn't like it so much? Are they gonna say, "Dude, that sucked. You're okay, but really....that sucked."
4. Even though I have insecurities about entertaining....I love it! I love having people over. I like cooking for them and chatting and playing games. I have little-to-none in the social graces department, but oh well....home sweet home!
1. I'm a night person. I have the most energy in the early evening and at night. I feel my most creative then. I like to write then.
2. I will need to plan ahead if I know I'm going to be busy in the evening and get my blog out earlier in the day. Or be okay with writing while entertaining? (no.)
3. I have a lot of insecurities. I want to know of the people who came over last night had a good time. Did they like me? Did they like my house? Do they like my husband? Do their husbands like us? Will they come back? And what if they didn't like it so much? Are they gonna say, "Dude, that sucked. You're okay, but really....that sucked."
4. Even though I have insecurities about entertaining....I love it! I love having people over. I like cooking for them and chatting and playing games. I have little-to-none in the social graces department, but oh well....home sweet home!
Black Friday
Growing up, Black Friday had always been a very thrilling day for me. My mother and I would scour the ads and plan our attack. We'd get up before dawn and gather with the other shoppers, taking advantage of sale prices and grab bags. After all the deals were snagged, we'd stop for lunch and then drag our weary bodies back home.
I quit going shopping with my mom on Black Friday many years ago. She had been making choices in her life that were destructive. I needed to limit my contact with her to only phone calls and a few person to person visits each year. Unfortunately she ended up really blowing it. Her behavior made it no longer safe for me, or any of my family, to have contact with her. With this loss of my mother, I lost many things, including the fun, and excitement of Black Friday.
This year I re-claimed it. Black Friday was mine. Granted I fell asleep about an hour before I wanted to head out the door, but my step-daughter (aka The Artist) woke me up about 10 minutes before I wanted to leave anyways.
Me: running my fingers through my hair, throwing on my glasses, and collecting my purse.
The Artist: wanting to take a shower, grabbing clean clothes, and putting on make-up.
Me: "We're leaving in 5 minutes."
The Artist: "Dang girl, you get ready fast!"
Me: "It's shopping spree, not a fashion show."
And out the door we go! This was The Artist's first time going out on Black Friday. As we traveled down the deserted streets at 4:30 in the morning she says, "hmmmph. Are we the *only* ones out shopping? I thought there would be more people then just us."
I smiled a silent smile and continued our journey to our first destination: Super Walmart. As we pulled into the shopping area, the look on her face was priceless. Her eyes were wide with excitement and terror. Her jaw dropped with shock. We stared into a parking lot completely full of cars...I say to her, "I guess we're not the only ones." And our journey of re-claiming Black Friday has officially begun.
I quit going shopping with my mom on Black Friday many years ago. She had been making choices in her life that were destructive. I needed to limit my contact with her to only phone calls and a few person to person visits each year. Unfortunately she ended up really blowing it. Her behavior made it no longer safe for me, or any of my family, to have contact with her. With this loss of my mother, I lost many things, including the fun, and excitement of Black Friday.
This year I re-claimed it. Black Friday was mine. Granted I fell asleep about an hour before I wanted to head out the door, but my step-daughter (aka The Artist) woke me up about 10 minutes before I wanted to leave anyways.
Me: running my fingers through my hair, throwing on my glasses, and collecting my purse.
The Artist: wanting to take a shower, grabbing clean clothes, and putting on make-up.
Me: "We're leaving in 5 minutes."
The Artist: "Dang girl, you get ready fast!"
Me: "It's shopping spree, not a fashion show."
And out the door we go! This was The Artist's first time going out on Black Friday. As we traveled down the deserted streets at 4:30 in the morning she says, "hmmmph. Are we the *only* ones out shopping? I thought there would be more people then just us."
I smiled a silent smile and continued our journey to our first destination: Super Walmart. As we pulled into the shopping area, the look on her face was priceless. Her eyes were wide with excitement and terror. Her jaw dropped with shock. We stared into a parking lot completely full of cars...I say to her, "I guess we're not the only ones." And our journey of re-claiming Black Friday has officially begun.
Thanksgiving
Thank you for:
being my friend.
all the times you have been there for me.
loving me, even in my darkest hours.
caring about me and supporting me, even through things you had not experienced with me.
helping me with my kids.
reminding me to slow down when I am physically pushing my body too far.
encouraging me to get off my arse during the times I have been too lazy.
wiping away my tears.
allowing me to cry.
making me laugh.
your compliments and your smiles.
stopping by my house and letting my dogs out.
making me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
your soft kisses.
all your hugs and back rubs.
painting my finger and toe nails.
dying my hair.
encouraging me to grow.
helping me clean my house.
getting me a re-fill.
not judging me for the things I do not have or where I have come from.
letting me be honest with myself.
working hard so I can stay home and raise our kids.
taking me out to lunch.
telling me that you like how I sing.
taking me out to dinner when I just can-not-cook-another-meal.
being the mother I never had.
being the grandparents my children deserve.
understanding when I have to cancel plans.
loving me even when I pull back.
chatting with me online during my bouts of insomnia.
laughing at my jokes.
coming to my house for party after party.
introducing me to fantastic food.
eating my cooking.
understanding "Kimberly Time".
sharing your lip-stuff.
providing me with cheese and Flackers.
telling me my *art* looks good.
wishing me a good "Thanksgiving?"
Thank you for being my husband, my sister, my children, my family, and my friends. I love you all and I am blessed that you are in my life.
being my friend.
all the times you have been there for me.
loving me, even in my darkest hours.
caring about me and supporting me, even through things you had not experienced with me.
helping me with my kids.
reminding me to slow down when I am physically pushing my body too far.
encouraging me to get off my arse during the times I have been too lazy.
wiping away my tears.
allowing me to cry.
making me laugh.
your compliments and your smiles.
stopping by my house and letting my dogs out.
making me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
your soft kisses.
all your hugs and back rubs.
painting my finger and toe nails.
dying my hair.
encouraging me to grow.
helping me clean my house.
getting me a re-fill.
not judging me for the things I do not have or where I have come from.
letting me be honest with myself.
working hard so I can stay home and raise our kids.
taking me out to lunch.
telling me that you like how I sing.
taking me out to dinner when I just can-not-cook-another-meal.
being the mother I never had.
being the grandparents my children deserve.
understanding when I have to cancel plans.
loving me even when I pull back.
chatting with me online during my bouts of insomnia.
laughing at my jokes.
coming to my house for party after party.
introducing me to fantastic food.
eating my cooking.
understanding "Kimberly Time".
sharing your lip-stuff.
providing me with cheese and Flackers.
telling me my *art* looks good.
wishing me a good "Thanksgiving?"
Thank you for being my husband, my sister, my children, my family, and my friends. I love you all and I am blessed that you are in my life.
30 Days
Someone once told me that a person can do anything for 30 days. So I've decided to put myself to the challenge. I am going on a 30 day blogging spree. I will guarantee you that some of these 30 Day posts will be ridiculously bad, but I have hopes that some of them will be really fantastic too!
I've been debating all day as to when to start the challenge. Do I start now, just a day or two before Thanksgiving, right in the midst of the Holiday ramp-up? Or do I wait until after the New Year begins? Well, I'm *me* and I don't have much for patience, so I decided to start today :)
Day one of the "30 Day Blogging Spree" has officially begun. If you are a fellow blogger and would like to join me in my efforts, feel free! We can support each other and stamp out writers block like good friends sizzling each others hair with aerosol hairspray and a curling iron. We may be a little frazzled at the end, but I'm certain we will enjoy the results :)
I've been debating all day as to when to start the challenge. Do I start now, just a day or two before Thanksgiving, right in the midst of the Holiday ramp-up? Or do I wait until after the New Year begins? Well, I'm *me* and I don't have much for patience, so I decided to start today :)
Day one of the "30 Day Blogging Spree" has officially begun. If you are a fellow blogger and would like to join me in my efforts, feel free! We can support each other and stamp out writers block like good friends sizzling each others hair with aerosol hairspray and a curling iron. We may be a little frazzled at the end, but I'm certain we will enjoy the results :)
Headbands and High School
I have a friend who posted this on Facebook awhile back:
"Would you wear this? I'm going through a major headband stage. Too gaudy?"
(Headband)
Her Facebook friends then chimed in: It would have to be with the *right* outfit. I don't know if you can pull it off. and one even said, "Somehow I cannot see you in this headband." (even I posted, "I don't think I could get away with it.")
It got me thinking. Why on earth could I not get away with wearing this headband? I have black and red hair for Pete's sake! And why does my friend think she should ask others if she could do it? Of cousre she could wear it and she's look damn good in it too!
I think it's because as we grow up we are "given" our role in life. I felt that my role was the girl who just never quite fit in. I didn't feel like a total loser, but some how I just wasn't really well liked either. I never felt like I could just be myself and I don't even think I ever knew who I was. But, after thirty-some years I'm beginning to figure it all out.
Some parts of myself have been easy for me to figure out. For example, I like my hair better when it is longer then when it is shorter. I like to do funky things with my hair. I like to write. I like to cook. I love music and playing RockBand. I like art. I think I may even be a bit artistic. I also know that my perfect day would include making as many people smile on that day as humanly possible.
So my question to you is: What makes you tick? Have you found the person you really are or are you still searching? I'm still searching, but I think I have a fabby head start!
"Would you wear this? I'm going through a major headband stage. Too gaudy?"
(Headband)
Her Facebook friends then chimed in: It would have to be with the *right* outfit. I don't know if you can pull it off. and one even said, "Somehow I cannot see you in this headband." (even I posted, "I don't think I could get away with it.")
It got me thinking. Why on earth could I not get away with wearing this headband? I have black and red hair for Pete's sake! And why does my friend think she should ask others if she could do it? Of cousre she could wear it and she's look damn good in it too!
I think it's because as we grow up we are "given" our role in life. I felt that my role was the girl who just never quite fit in. I didn't feel like a total loser, but some how I just wasn't really well liked either. I never felt like I could just be myself and I don't even think I ever knew who I was. But, after thirty-some years I'm beginning to figure it all out.
Some parts of myself have been easy for me to figure out. For example, I like my hair better when it is longer then when it is shorter. I like to do funky things with my hair. I like to write. I like to cook. I love music and playing RockBand. I like art. I think I may even be a bit artistic. I also know that my perfect day would include making as many people smile on that day as humanly possible.
So my question to you is: What makes you tick? Have you found the person you really are or are you still searching? I'm still searching, but I think I have a fabby head start!
Battle On...
Right now I am battling with my weight. I have so much to loose and I feel the task is so big that I tend to do not much about it. Sure, I've been working out more over the past month or so. And sure I've eaten better more days then I've eaten like crap, but...I'm still gaining weight.
Today I figured out why. You see I'm sad. I'm sad about how I have let myself go. I'm sad that I have been gluttonous at so many meals. I'm disappointed in the quantity of shiraz, zinfandel, and merlot that have slipped effortlessly down my throat. Top those beautiful glasses of vino off with the rich, high caloric, abundant food I've been eating....and here I am.
In a mere six months I have gained over thirty pounds. What the hell?!?!? In a mere six months I have gone from running a 10k to not being able to walk comfortably after running 2.5 miles. I know that *part* of this is due to my ankle injury, but *most* of it is.....me.
My counselor and I have been talking about my weight and she has asked me, "What are you stuffing?" I keep telling her, "Nothing." You see everything in my life is really good right now. My husband and I have been able to re-build a relationship that I never dreamed possible. My kids are fantastic. Besides the occasional "What were you thinking?" of my teens, I don't have a lot to complain about. I have an amazing sister who makes me laugh and wipes away my tears. My group of friends are highly supportive, and loving.
But I'm sad. As I was journaling today it hit me. Within the first minute of writing, this is what I wrote:
"I am so sad. With myself. I hate hate hate the way I look and feel right now. I feel uncomfortable, so I keep eating and drinking to numb how crappy I feel."
You see, I need to stop ignoring what I have done to my body. I need to stop pretending that I am not thirty pounds heavier then I was this spring. I need to stop numbing myself and let myself actually feel. I have been stuffing my feelings about my body and it must stop.
(For those of you on my cheering squad: I'm really not looking for any "it's okay, you're still pretty" type stuff. I just wanted to share what I am learning. <3)
Today I figured out why. You see I'm sad. I'm sad about how I have let myself go. I'm sad that I have been gluttonous at so many meals. I'm disappointed in the quantity of shiraz, zinfandel, and merlot that have slipped effortlessly down my throat. Top those beautiful glasses of vino off with the rich, high caloric, abundant food I've been eating....and here I am.
In a mere six months I have gained over thirty pounds. What the hell?!?!? In a mere six months I have gone from running a 10k to not being able to walk comfortably after running 2.5 miles. I know that *part* of this is due to my ankle injury, but *most* of it is.....me.
My counselor and I have been talking about my weight and she has asked me, "What are you stuffing?" I keep telling her, "Nothing." You see everything in my life is really good right now. My husband and I have been able to re-build a relationship that I never dreamed possible. My kids are fantastic. Besides the occasional "What were you thinking?" of my teens, I don't have a lot to complain about. I have an amazing sister who makes me laugh and wipes away my tears. My group of friends are highly supportive, and loving.
But I'm sad. As I was journaling today it hit me. Within the first minute of writing, this is what I wrote:
"I am so sad. With myself. I hate hate hate the way I look and feel right now. I feel uncomfortable, so I keep eating and drinking to numb how crappy I feel."
You see, I need to stop ignoring what I have done to my body. I need to stop pretending that I am not thirty pounds heavier then I was this spring. I need to stop numbing myself and let myself actually feel. I have been stuffing my feelings about my body and it must stop.
(For those of you on my cheering squad: I'm really not looking for any "it's okay, you're still pretty" type stuff. I just wanted to share what I am learning. <3)
Collections
I have a few collections. Okay, I have several odd collections. One of my favorite collections is of floor cleaners. You see, I own five of them. They all have different purposes. Some are for the hard floors, some for the carpet. I have a couple that are for getting into the tight cracks and corners, and some are made specifically for sucking up dog hair.
You see, I can't help myself. I go into the store and somehow find my way to the floor cleaning mechanisms aisle and next thing you know I've got some sort of cleaning deal in my cart. You see, there *has* to be the perfect machine out there. The one that will clean both hard and carpeted floors. One that will steam clean stains out of the carpet and vacuum dog hair all at once. This machine will get into the cracks and crevasses, without any attachments. It will be light weight and be able to suck up a small child.
I'll admit, I've actually been talked out of the floor cleaning aisle more then once...apparently some people don't think I *need* another appliance to clean the floor. Oh, but I do. One of the top things on my Christmas list this year is a Little Green Machine :)
So, what kinds of things do you collect?
You see, I can't help myself. I go into the store and somehow find my way to the floor cleaning mechanisms aisle and next thing you know I've got some sort of cleaning deal in my cart. You see, there *has* to be the perfect machine out there. The one that will clean both hard and carpeted floors. One that will steam clean stains out of the carpet and vacuum dog hair all at once. This machine will get into the cracks and crevasses, without any attachments. It will be light weight and be able to suck up a small child.
I'll admit, I've actually been talked out of the floor cleaning aisle more then once...apparently some people don't think I *need* another appliance to clean the floor. Oh, but I do. One of the top things on my Christmas list this year is a Little Green Machine :)
So, what kinds of things do you collect?
The Flu
We have the flu at our house. I can tell you where we got it (or at least I think I can). Matt brought it home from football. You see, it was against "some rule" for players to bring their own water bottles to the football games. The team was required to share water bottles. The bottles are those squeezy kind. You don't actually *have* to put your mouth on the bottle to get it to work. Apparently the coaches forgot to teach that to the ninth grade football team. Even if they would've offered a lesson on "How To Drink From a Water Bottle 101", I know the attention span of a fifteen year old. The lesson wouldn't have mattered.
Last night I received an email from the coach saying that over 30% of the football players on the ninth grade team were out sick Monday. They have a new policy now. Each player is required to have their own water bottle....geez. took. them. long. enough.
Last night I received an email from the coach saying that over 30% of the football players on the ninth grade team were out sick Monday. They have a new policy now. Each player is required to have their own water bottle....geez. took. them. long. enough.
Tator (aka Francesca Elizabeth)
We have two live pets in our house. I don't count Nathan's fish as pets, they are just decorations. Both of our "real" pets are dogs. The oldest dog is Tator, aka Francesca Elizabeth. The other dog is Bailey and she is an entirely different post.
Tator is a Siberian Husky with a fantastic blood line, not that her blood line was important to us when we picked her out. The things that struck us when we met her were the facts that she was the most beautiful dog I had ever seen, and all she wanted to do was snuggle in my lap. Cute and cuddly...what else mattered?
We brought Tator home almost fourteen years ago. We had somehow lost our dog naming abilities after we picked her out, so she spent several weeks being called "Hey Puppy!" We knew we wanted a fun, dog type name and we also wanted a second, more regal name on her official papers (to be respectful of her blood line). The regal name was much easier for us to come up with. She is partially named after my sister and the other part was just a fancy name I liked :) It was mid-winter when I scooped her up to bring her outside for her nightly outdoor task when we were struck with her name:
Me: "She's like a sack of potatoes!"
Nathan: "Hey, let's call her Tator."
Me: "Okay, Tator is a pretty cool name and it's way better then 'hey puppy'."
So began our years with Tator. Her puppy years were fun. She stayed true to being the cute and cuddly puppy I picked out. Her "teen" years were a mess. Tator decided she didn't like me and *clearly* had it in for me. Nathan would leave the house and Tator would be mean to me. Granted I am a bit on the sensitive side, but I still felt threatened. Soon after the teen years she realized I wasn't going anywhere and we ended up with a respectful agreement. I would feed her, take her places, keep her groomed, clean up after her, and bring her to the vet. She would let me live in her house and sleep with her mate.
There are so many stories I could tell you about her I would consider writing a book, but this is only a blog and the point of this blog is to say out loud that she is old and she's not feeling well. The average life expectancy of a Siberian Husky is 10-14 years. We're lucky that we've had 14 eventful and wonderful years with her, but I am sad that I see it coming to an end.
Besides suffering from "old-age", Tator is suffering from arthritis of the hips. To help her with her pain and mobility we give her an anti-inflammatory medicine. The anti-inflammatory meds will cause damage to her liver. To off set the damage to the liver we are trying things like plain yogurt and cottage cheese. Her stomach has become even more sensitive these days so we also give her pro-biotics. I feel like we are constantly taping her together with one band-aid or another. Some people may understand this and some won't. I'm okay with that.
Over the last year she has had more and more series of tummy discomfort. She has been spending lengthy times being restless and agitated, but then recovering and seeming fine again. Each time we head into an episode I wonder if this will be the last? How many more times can we all do this? How many more sleepless nights can we all take? Is she hurting? Is she sad?
As she spent today outside, by herself, in the yard, unwilling to come in... I miss her already. I'd go out there and stroke her bony body and hope that she feels better soon. You see, I'm not ready to let her go yet. I'm not ready to have less dog hair on my floors, on my furniture, on my clothes, or in my food. I'm not ready to have more freedom and more money.
I am not ready to be a one dog family.
Updated 1/15/2010
Francesca Elizabeth will be resting peacefully today. We are preparing our good-byes, going through our photos and memories, and showing her that we will always love her.
If You Buy The MFP a New Screen Door...
If you buy The MFP a new screen door (which she has wanted for the last five years!)...She will want to paint the old metal door a really fabulous red color so the whole front of the house looks super cool.
So her husband will buy her a small can of really fabulous red paint.
If she gets ready to paint the door a really fabulous red color, she will notice the trim on the door is awful and will want to paint that too.
If she wants to paint the trim, she will catch on to the fact that she cannot paint it the really fabulous red color. The trim will need to be painted white. She plans to send her husband to the store for some white paint. (Her husband needs to go because The MFP has not showered yet for the day. Nor has she done her hair/make-up. Her husband has a shaved head and so he automatically wins the "gets - to - go - to - the - store - for - paint - this - morning" award.)
If she wants to paint the trim on the front door, she will realize that the garage door trim should also be painted. The garage door trim is a mess.
Before she paints the trim, she also recognizes the trim must be scraped of loose, old paint, and then cleaned so the bright new paint will adhere. She will get the husband to test out his old wire brush and see if his old wire brush will be okay for getting off the loose paint. Her husband will then realize that his old wire brush will be too dirty for The MFP to use. He offers to buy her a new brush when he goes to get the white paint for the trim.
As her husband is off buying white paint and a sparkly new wire brush for The MFP, she will then get the idea that this is kind of funny and decide that this would be a good time to blog...
Tiaras and Tutus~
The MFP
So her husband will buy her a small can of really fabulous red paint.
If she gets ready to paint the door a really fabulous red color, she will notice the trim on the door is awful and will want to paint that too.
If she wants to paint the trim, she will catch on to the fact that she cannot paint it the really fabulous red color. The trim will need to be painted white. She plans to send her husband to the store for some white paint. (Her husband needs to go because The MFP has not showered yet for the day. Nor has she done her hair/make-up. Her husband has a shaved head and so he automatically wins the "gets - to - go - to - the - store - for - paint - this - morning" award.)
If she wants to paint the trim on the front door, she will realize that the garage door trim should also be painted. The garage door trim is a mess.
Before she paints the trim, she also recognizes the trim must be scraped of loose, old paint, and then cleaned so the bright new paint will adhere. She will get the husband to test out his old wire brush and see if his old wire brush will be okay for getting off the loose paint. Her husband will then realize that his old wire brush will be too dirty for The MFP to use. He offers to buy her a new brush when he goes to get the white paint for the trim.
As her husband is off buying white paint and a sparkly new wire brush for The MFP, she will then get the idea that this is kind of funny and decide that this would be a good time to blog...
Tiaras and Tutus~
The MFP
Green Onions
My older two kids (aka Social Guy and The Artist) are growing up fast. This summer they have started getting more and more freedom and of course more responsibilities too. One of the best examples of a growing experience happened just last week. It was a few days before our family camping trip and we had just returned from an amazing long weekend at a friend's cottage. We had a lot to clean up and a lot to get ready for. Our errands list looked something like:
Get Social Guy a hair cut
Go to Cub Foods and pick up green onions
stop at body shop for estimate
go to the bank
go to Target (just because I like to browse and Target is one of my favorite stores...Did you know they have *everything* at Target?)
stop at the library to pick up a book on hold
pick up flea and tick junk for the dogs at Chuck'N Dons
plan the upcoming menu
double check to see that we have all school materials
dishes
laundry
blah blah blah
So I drove up to Great Clips and asked Social Guy if he needed me to come in or if I could just hand him $20 and he could get his hair cut on his own. He agreed that he could get his haircut on his own, so I dropped him off and told him I would be back.
I pulled into the auto body shop. Walked in and talked to the receptionist. She told me to hang out for a bit and one of the estimators would be with me in a couple minutes. After a few moments the estimator, The Artist, and I walked out to the car where he looked it over and took notes. The estimator told me to wait there and he would have my estimate ready in just a few minutes. The Artist noticed I kept looking over at Cub Foods, which was right next to the auto body store.
The Artist, "Do you need something from Cub?"
Me, "Yeah." *at that moment wishing The Artist was more like Social Guy and would be able to run over there and get those green onions for me.*
The Artist, "I could go over there and get what ever you need?" (Yes, she said that as a question.)
Me, "wow! That would be cool. I need green onions. Do you know what green onions are?"
The Artist, "No, but you could describe them to me."
I went ahead and tried my best to describe to her what they looked like and where they would be in the produce department. I handed her $20 and said, "Thanks!" A few minutes later she comes back. She's looking pretty proud of herself and hands me the bag.
The Artist, *in a beautiful, happy, sing-song voice* "These are the green onions, right?"
I look inside the bag....nope. I smile at her and say, "No, these are collard greens."
She was disappointed and mad, more at Cub Foods lousy produce labeling then at herself. I didn't show her the ribbon on the collard greens that said 'collard greens'. I did look at her with a huge smile and said, "Hey, I've never cooked these before. What an adventure! We'll go home, look up a recipe, and try them out. How cool!"
So that night we added a couple things to the list:
look up collard green recipe
make collard greens
The Artist grew a lot that day due to a mild mistake and our whole family tried something new AND loved it! Collard greens will become a new family favorite food and story to remember :)
Tiaras and Tutus~
The MFP
Get Social Guy a hair cut
Go to Cub Foods and pick up green onions
stop at body shop for estimate
go to the bank
go to Target (just because I like to browse and Target is one of my favorite stores...Did you know they have *everything* at Target?)
stop at the library to pick up a book on hold
pick up flea and tick junk for the dogs at Chuck'N Dons
plan the upcoming menu
double check to see that we have all school materials
dishes
laundry
blah blah blah
So I drove up to Great Clips and asked Social Guy if he needed me to come in or if I could just hand him $20 and he could get his hair cut on his own. He agreed that he could get his haircut on his own, so I dropped him off and told him I would be back.
I pulled into the auto body shop. Walked in and talked to the receptionist. She told me to hang out for a bit and one of the estimators would be with me in a couple minutes. After a few moments the estimator, The Artist, and I walked out to the car where he looked it over and took notes. The estimator told me to wait there and he would have my estimate ready in just a few minutes. The Artist noticed I kept looking over at Cub Foods, which was right next to the auto body store.
The Artist, "Do you need something from Cub?"
Me, "Yeah." *at that moment wishing The Artist was more like Social Guy and would be able to run over there and get those green onions for me.*
The Artist, "I could go over there and get what ever you need?" (Yes, she said that as a question.)
Me, "wow! That would be cool. I need green onions. Do you know what green onions are?"
The Artist, "No, but you could describe them to me."
I went ahead and tried my best to describe to her what they looked like and where they would be in the produce department. I handed her $20 and said, "Thanks!" A few minutes later she comes back. She's looking pretty proud of herself and hands me the bag.
The Artist, *in a beautiful, happy, sing-song voice* "These are the green onions, right?"
I look inside the bag....nope. I smile at her and say, "No, these are collard greens."
She was disappointed and mad, more at Cub Foods lousy produce labeling then at herself. I didn't show her the ribbon on the collard greens that said 'collard greens'. I did look at her with a huge smile and said, "Hey, I've never cooked these before. What an adventure! We'll go home, look up a recipe, and try them out. How cool!"
So that night we added a couple things to the list:
look up collard green recipe
make collard greens
The Artist grew a lot that day due to a mild mistake and our whole family tried something new AND loved it! Collard greens will become a new family favorite food and story to remember :)
Tiaras and Tutus~
The MFP
The Third Child...
We have three beautiful children together:
Mine: The Social Guy [The Oldest] - He can talk to anyone, anytime, anywhere (and I am NOT kidding). He remembers faces and names, unlike his mother. He will make friends no matter where he goes. He loves, loves, loves people.
His: The Artist [The Middle Child]- She has the most amazing stories in her head. She can take you on the adventure of a life time without you ever leaving the living room or backyard. She can write them or help you act them out, even at the grocery store.
Ours: The Brainiac [The Baby] - He can figure out how anything works and will tell you how he could make it better. He is happiest in the garage or working with Legos thinking up his next greatest invention. Oh, and he has a really weird East Coast accent.
The three of them are a great mix and most of the time they make a beautiful blend of oil, herbs, and vinegar (in no particular order). But sometimes they separate and it makes parenting their different styles difficult. So one of my favorite things to do is to take them camping. It's a few days when the "Olson Family of Five" is nothing but a perfect blend.
Some of our frequent places to visit are the MN State Parks. The State Parks are usually very clean and quiet, enough privacy and enough running water. We like to hike and "rough it" (rough it = double decker air-mattress for me and hubby, nice sheets, three room tent, mini tents for the teens, organizers, flat top gas griddle, gas grill, gas burner , adapter for the car battery to run plugged in appliances (yes I 'could' bring and run my microwave), reclining chairs, mp3 player and little baby speakers....I think you get the picture.) for as many weekends as we can each summer. Unfortunately we were only able to go family camping once this summer. But, there are so many blog-able events that happened over the weekend you can expect a few blogs this week :)
Seeing that the kids are older (15, 14, 8), they got a lot more freedom this year. The teens went to the showers by themselves. All three kids took the dogs for short, but adventurous walks throughout the park. Our requirements were simple: stay together and bring a walkie talkie.
Then there is the Third Child...
Considering his age, he was probably allowed the most freedom of them all...
Eight Year Old, "Hey dad, I wanna make a fire."
Dad, "ah...no? I paid $4 per tiny bundle of wood and you are not making a fire at 3:00 in the afternoon."
Eight Year Old, "but dad, I really, really want to make a fire. You always make log cabin fires and I wanna build a tee-pee fire."
Dad, "You can make a fire closer to dinner time."
Eight Year Old, "but-sep-for [except for] I wanna make one now."
Dad, "Fine. Go get your own wood and you can make a fire."
Eight Year Old, "All the wood is too big for me to carry."
Dad :::hands Eight Year Old a saw::: "Okay, go saw it into smaller pieces."
Fifteen Year Old tunes into what is going on, "WHAT!?!?! Did you just give the Eight Year Old a saw? AND tell him to go cut his own wood?"
Dad, "Yeah...so?"
Fifteen Year Old :::silently thinking::: "what the FUCK are you thinking?"
Fifteen Year Old, "You never gave me a saw at eight!"
Mom, "oh, you don't even remember being eight."
Fifteen Year Old, "wow"
***Hours later Eight Year Old starts fire with Dad's $4 per "small" bundle of wood***
And of course we didn't give The Oldest Child, aka The Social Butterfly a saw at eight! He would have sawed his finger off while talking to the people at the next camp site...
Tiaras and Tutus~
The MFP
Mine: The Social Guy [The Oldest] - He can talk to anyone, anytime, anywhere (and I am NOT kidding). He remembers faces and names, unlike his mother. He will make friends no matter where he goes. He loves, loves, loves people.
His: The Artist [The Middle Child]- She has the most amazing stories in her head. She can take you on the adventure of a life time without you ever leaving the living room or backyard. She can write them or help you act them out, even at the grocery store.
Ours: The Brainiac [The Baby] - He can figure out how anything works and will tell you how he could make it better. He is happiest in the garage or working with Legos thinking up his next greatest invention. Oh, and he has a really weird East Coast accent.
The three of them are a great mix and most of the time they make a beautiful blend of oil, herbs, and vinegar (in no particular order). But sometimes they separate and it makes parenting their different styles difficult. So one of my favorite things to do is to take them camping. It's a few days when the "Olson Family of Five" is nothing but a perfect blend.
Some of our frequent places to visit are the MN State Parks. The State Parks are usually very clean and quiet, enough privacy and enough running water. We like to hike and "rough it" (rough it = double decker air-mattress for me and hubby, nice sheets, three room tent, mini tents for the teens, organizers, flat top gas griddle, gas grill, gas burner , adapter for the car battery to run plugged in appliances (yes I 'could' bring and run my microwave), reclining chairs, mp3 player and little baby speakers....I think you get the picture.) for as many weekends as we can each summer. Unfortunately we were only able to go family camping once this summer. But, there are so many blog-able events that happened over the weekend you can expect a few blogs this week :)
Seeing that the kids are older (15, 14, 8), they got a lot more freedom this year. The teens went to the showers by themselves. All three kids took the dogs for short, but adventurous walks throughout the park. Our requirements were simple: stay together and bring a walkie talkie.
Then there is the Third Child...
Considering his age, he was probably allowed the most freedom of them all...
Eight Year Old, "Hey dad, I wanna make a fire."
Dad, "ah...no? I paid $4 per tiny bundle of wood and you are not making a fire at 3:00 in the afternoon."
Eight Year Old, "but dad, I really, really want to make a fire. You always make log cabin fires and I wanna build a tee-pee fire."
Dad, "You can make a fire closer to dinner time."
Eight Year Old, "but-sep-for [except for] I wanna make one now."
Dad, "Fine. Go get your own wood and you can make a fire."
Eight Year Old, "All the wood is too big for me to carry."
Dad :::hands Eight Year Old a saw::: "Okay, go saw it into smaller pieces."
Fifteen Year Old tunes into what is going on, "WHAT!?!?! Did you just give the Eight Year Old a saw? AND tell him to go cut his own wood?"
Dad, "Yeah...so?"
Fifteen Year Old :::silently thinking::: "what the FUCK are you thinking?"
Fifteen Year Old, "You never gave me a saw at eight!"
Mom, "oh, you don't even remember being eight."
Fifteen Year Old, "wow"
***Hours later Eight Year Old starts fire with Dad's $4 per "small" bundle of wood***
And of course we didn't give The Oldest Child, aka The Social Butterfly a saw at eight! He would have sawed his finger off while talking to the people at the next camp site...
Tiaras and Tutus~
The MFP
Dear Bejeweled Blitz;
I know I've only been with you for a few months and while I find your "minute man" mentality severely addicting you must know that I am struggling to stay in love with you. You see I have a very competitive nature and I yearn to be victorious and at the top of the leader board of all my friends. I have always felt that if I had just a little more then one damn minute I could win that weekly tournament *at least* once. Maybe with more then one minute of action I could eventually claim that coveted number one spot!
So I must tell you that I've been seeing someone else. He's a lot like you. He looks similar to you but with slightly different coloring and yeah, the sounds are a bit off. BUT...his game lasts longer then a minute, you know what I mean? It's long enough to keep me interested but not so long I end up with carpel tunnel. I can really get into the game and what do you know....I'm now a top scorer :)
Don't worry my Dear Bejeweled Blitz I'll be back, because there's nothing like a quickie in the middle of the afternoon...
Tiaras and Tutus~
The MFP
So I must tell you that I've been seeing someone else. He's a lot like you. He looks similar to you but with slightly different coloring and yeah, the sounds are a bit off. BUT...his game lasts longer then a minute, you know what I mean? It's long enough to keep me interested but not so long I end up with carpel tunnel. I can really get into the game and what do you know....I'm now a top scorer :)
Don't worry my Dear Bejeweled Blitz I'll be back, because there's nothing like a quickie in the middle of the afternoon...
Tiaras and Tutus~
The MFP
Dear Sauerkraut;
Although a part of me wants to thank you for splattering yourself all over my kitchen yesterday, but I am a bit worn out finding leftover kraut in the kitchen.
Yes, you have reminded me that sometimes I should pay attention to my surroundings and not only the random ideas floating in my head. And yes I do think of my friend Andrea and her sunny personality every time I find more pickled cabbage stuck on the *inside* of the cupboards. But my Dear Sauerkraut, I see Andrea several times a week in person and am never more then a phone call, email, or poke on Facebook away from her. I have washed the cupboards, the walls, the fridge, the stove, the floor, my leg, and my sandals. I have laughed the situation silly while watching Baily the Bendy Dog help me clean up my cured cabbage mess. I even received a text from my husband (who was downstairs at the time of the kraut explosion) telling me how much he hearts my laugh, but your stay here has been worn out and it's best to leave now so the memory of your timely blowup remains something to laugh about and not something that drives me insane.
Tiaras and Tutus~
The MFP
Yes, you have reminded me that sometimes I should pay attention to my surroundings and not only the random ideas floating in my head. And yes I do think of my friend Andrea and her sunny personality every time I find more pickled cabbage stuck on the *inside* of the cupboards. But my Dear Sauerkraut, I see Andrea several times a week in person and am never more then a phone call, email, or poke on Facebook away from her. I have washed the cupboards, the walls, the fridge, the stove, the floor, my leg, and my sandals. I have laughed the situation silly while watching Baily the Bendy Dog help me clean up my cured cabbage mess. I even received a text from my husband (who was downstairs at the time of the kraut explosion) telling me how much he hearts my laugh, but your stay here has been worn out and it's best to leave now so the memory of your timely blowup remains something to laugh about and not something that drives me insane.
Tiaras and Tutus~
The MFP
Face Lift
Dear Readers, Followers, Friends, Family, Fans, and the occasional stranger who stumbles across my blog:
I've been thinking about it for awhile now...my blog needs a face lift. Granted it has served it's purpose of giving my readers a deeper understanding of who I am, where I come from, and maybe even a slight vision of where I am going (oh, and if you have figured out the "where I am going" part *please* email me!). BUT my blog is lacking a big part of me, the humorous part. So my goal this month is to see my life through one of those carnival mirrors. You know the ones, the mirrors that pretty much distort everything they reflect in a comical and completely ridiculous way. So here's to August, may it be filled with laughter, love, hot weather, and a new look at life!
hugs and crap~
The MFP
I've been thinking about it for awhile now...my blog needs a face lift. Granted it has served it's purpose of giving my readers a deeper understanding of who I am, where I come from, and maybe even a slight vision of where I am going (oh, and if you have figured out the "where I am going" part *please* email me!). BUT my blog is lacking a big part of me, the humorous part. So my goal this month is to see my life through one of those carnival mirrors. You know the ones, the mirrors that pretty much distort everything they reflect in a comical and completely ridiculous way. So here's to August, may it be filled with laughter, love, hot weather, and a new look at life!
hugs and crap~
The MFP
An Ode to Facebook
ah Facebook....I love you Facebook. You have given me such a great tool to communicate with friends and even make a few new ones. Every day feels like the best party ever. You never know what is going to happen, or who will say what, but I am guaranteed a lol, a giggle, a *snort*, and usually a few lmao, rofl, and some pixie dust! But sometimes life is not a party and sometimes one of us needs a hug or a virtual cookie...and even when I can't be there to comfort a friend face to face, hug to hug, I know that I can always send a little love <3, or a Mafia Wars Energy pack.
:::Captian Obvious arrives on the scene::: Well, MFP, it's all about participation. If your friends didn't post and comment on every one's statuses then Facebook would be a boring place in cyberspace and you would spend even more time playing Bejeweled Blitz then mentally or physically healthy. :::Captain Obvious leaves:::
Thanks Captain Obvious....and thanks to Facebook and my all Facebook friends...Party On!
(special thanks to the Lil' Sissy for letting me borrow Captain Obvious...)
:::Captian Obvious arrives on the scene::: Well, MFP, it's all about participation. If your friends didn't post and comment on every one's statuses then Facebook would be a boring place in cyberspace and you would spend even more time playing Bejeweled Blitz then mentally or physically healthy. :::Captain Obvious leaves:::
Thanks Captain Obvious....and thanks to Facebook and my all Facebook friends...Party On!
(special thanks to the Lil' Sissy for letting me borrow Captain Obvious...)
Oops!
I was on the freeway yesterday and missed my exit. It actually happened twice in the same outing. The first time I missed my exit I realized it right away and was able to take the cloverleaf around and around until I was once again facing in the right direction. It was an easy fix and I even found it to be a little soothing: the ease of the circles, no need to merge, no need to look for my exit or question which way I was headed. I just simply followed the path ahead of me to get back on track...
The second time I missed my exit I wasn't so lucky. There wasn't a cloverleaf and I had to drive about half a mile to the next exit. I didn't even know for sure if I would be able to get back on the freeway after I took it. I made my exit, waited at the top for the light, crossed the bridge, waited for another light, went back down the way I came, and finally hit the right exit.
I thought of it all day. I thought, "Wouldn't it be great if there was a 'cloverleaf' for life?" If we made a mistake or a bad choice we could just circle around smoothly until we found our way again? But...I feel that life is more like my second missed exit of the day. We aren't always sure and we're surrounded by choices to make, some of them clear, some of them not so clear. It can be maddening at times, scary, and frustrating.
In the end, I think we always end up pointed in the direction we need to go.
The second time I missed my exit I wasn't so lucky. There wasn't a cloverleaf and I had to drive about half a mile to the next exit. I didn't even know for sure if I would be able to get back on the freeway after I took it. I made my exit, waited at the top for the light, crossed the bridge, waited for another light, went back down the way I came, and finally hit the right exit.
I thought of it all day. I thought, "Wouldn't it be great if there was a 'cloverleaf' for life?" If we made a mistake or a bad choice we could just circle around smoothly until we found our way again? But...I feel that life is more like my second missed exit of the day. We aren't always sure and we're surrounded by choices to make, some of them clear, some of them not so clear. It can be maddening at times, scary, and frustrating.
In the end, I think we always end up pointed in the direction we need to go.
No Apologies!
WARNING! Some of you will read this and say, "must be rough..." I know this because someone already said that to me this week. So I am starting out this blog by refusing to apologize for my life. I refuse to apologize for the fact that I am a stay-at-home mom, instead of a career mom. I refuse to apologize for homeschooling my kids, instead of sending them to school. I refuse to apologize for having a husband who works from home, instead of spending fifty plus hours a week at work. I refuse to apologize for being over-weight, instead of thin. I refuse to apologize....period.
This has been a typical week for us:
Monday at the beach, with friends.
Tuesday at the river, with friends.
Wednesday, at a friends house for science co-op. (Yes, we are still doing school. At our house we finish the course before moving on and I refuse to apologize.)
Thursday at the park with friends, plus grilling dinner at the park with husbands when they are done with work.
Considering the fact that the kids and I have been using the house as "base camp" this week, it is no wonder that I have had a hard time keeping up with the household chores. Sure I've done some dishes and tossed some laundry in the washer and dryer, but tonight it hit me. Mount St. Laundry is about as big as it gets. I am pretty sure the only clean dishes we have left are the big serving spoons and a few large Tupperware containers. The bathrooms have sand on the floor and my plants are drooping and begging for water. So what do I do? I look at my husband and I say....
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry the laundry is out of control. I'm sorry the kitchen is a disaster. I'm sorry the entryway is piled high with towels and shoes. I'm sorry you've had to take care of the dogs. I'm even sorry I haven't shaved my legs all week. I'm sorry." and he says to me.....
"I'd rather have a girlfriend then a mom."
You see, apparently he's okay with a messy kitchen and having to find his own matching pair of socks sometimes, but he doesn't want us to stop having fun together. And after what we have been through lately that is the best thing I have heard in a long, long time. (Oh, by the way I did shave my legs, but the dishes are still piled to the ceiling!)
This has been a typical week for us:
Monday at the beach, with friends.
Tuesday at the river, with friends.
Wednesday, at a friends house for science co-op. (Yes, we are still doing school. At our house we finish the course before moving on and I refuse to apologize.)
Thursday at the park with friends, plus grilling dinner at the park with husbands when they are done with work.
Considering the fact that the kids and I have been using the house as "base camp" this week, it is no wonder that I have had a hard time keeping up with the household chores. Sure I've done some dishes and tossed some laundry in the washer and dryer, but tonight it hit me. Mount St. Laundry is about as big as it gets. I am pretty sure the only clean dishes we have left are the big serving spoons and a few large Tupperware containers. The bathrooms have sand on the floor and my plants are drooping and begging for water. So what do I do? I look at my husband and I say....
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry the laundry is out of control. I'm sorry the kitchen is a disaster. I'm sorry the entryway is piled high with towels and shoes. I'm sorry you've had to take care of the dogs. I'm even sorry I haven't shaved my legs all week. I'm sorry." and he says to me.....
"I'd rather have a girlfriend then a mom."
You see, apparently he's okay with a messy kitchen and having to find his own matching pair of socks sometimes, but he doesn't want us to stop having fun together. And after what we have been through lately that is the best thing I have heard in a long, long time. (Oh, by the way I did shave my legs, but the dishes are still piled to the ceiling!)
The Mother Freakin' Sleep Over
I know! I know! I know! "What happens at the MFP's house...stays at the MFP's house." BUT...I have to let the world know that I have the most amazing, beautiful, fun friends in the whole universe.
I have friends that will dance with bunnies, draw on bodies, sing with giant spoons, sport a new "do", dance in my living room, try on sundresses, bring delicious food, kick my arse, and read directions when I no longer can. My friends will sit on the front step in the wee hours of the morning, take fun pictures, giggle, share secrets, paint fingernails, and sprinkle each other with glitter. These gals will do yoga and ballet on my sidewalk, try new things (sometimes more then once - just to make sure they don't like it), plus bring me flowers and candles that give me fond memories of my grandma. They will guess how many vacuums I own, let me fall asleep on their lap, and leave love notes around my house to find when I wake up.
This is what my life is all about. It's about not being afraid to share who I am and letting people share themselves with me. To my friends who made it to the Mother Freakin' Sleepover....I love you! To my friends who could not come....I love you and missed you!
I have friends that will dance with bunnies, draw on bodies, sing with giant spoons, sport a new "do", dance in my living room, try on sundresses, bring delicious food, kick my arse, and read directions when I no longer can. My friends will sit on the front step in the wee hours of the morning, take fun pictures, giggle, share secrets, paint fingernails, and sprinkle each other with glitter. These gals will do yoga and ballet on my sidewalk, try new things (sometimes more then once - just to make sure they don't like it), plus bring me flowers and candles that give me fond memories of my grandma. They will guess how many vacuums I own, let me fall asleep on their lap, and leave love notes around my house to find when I wake up.
This is what my life is all about. It's about not being afraid to share who I am and letting people share themselves with me. To my friends who made it to the Mother Freakin' Sleepover....I love you! To my friends who could not come....I love you and missed you!
Extra Baggage
Okay. I am about to admit something to the whole world. It is something that is hard for me to admit, because while my true friends see me up close and personal, some of you only know me by the internet or what you remember about me from a long, long time ago. Here it goes.....
I AM OVER WEIGHT! I am not talking the just ten pounds, or "firming" up kind of over weight. I'm talking forty-pounds-of-WAY-too-much-fat kind of over weight. I have been embarrassed by it since I became over weight in the summer of 1992. For those of you who have not followed my blog, that is the summer I was pregnant, was in a car accident, fractured my spine and pelvis, suffered nerve damage, and lost my baby.
I have been careful about pictures I post and tag myself in on Facebook. I have even been careful of actually meeting some of my Facebook friends in person. Some of you I still would not have met in person if it wasn't for your little surprise meetings...Lord knows what you all would say about me when you see more then a face shot. I could not even think about the judging and the crappy things that might be said behind my back. "Wow! She sure the hell got fat." But today was a miracle:
Today I was in my third car accident. (If we don't count the time I didn't have my license and my drunk father decided I "needed to learn how to drive" on a gravel road by Lake Sara and went into a ditch.)
Today I was stared at by someone in another car. I waved and hollered, "What the heck! Why are people staring at me!" My eight year old responded, "Maybe it's because you're beautiful." I giggled. My fourteen year old step-daughter chimed in, "Well, you are pretty."
Today one of my friends who also struggles with her weight admitted that she did NOT un-tag herself from photos on Facebook. That she is who she is. She was at the MFbbq and if she un-tags herself then she would "disappear" from the event, like she was never there. I admired her and respected her so much that I had no words to say to her. I was in awe of her inner beauty (and honestly she is really super physically pretty too).
And last, but not least, today a friend who is in the "just ten pounds or firming up" category was called fat. And to that I say.....srsly, what the...?!?!?!?
So, no more un-tagging or not tagging for me. I am still losing weight. It is weight that I gained a long, long time ago. It weight that I have lost and regained and will someday permanently release and let go of. I am who I am and...
I am the Mother Freakin' Princess. I have weight to lose and friends to gain, lives to touch, and reasons to make people smile.
I AM OVER WEIGHT! I am not talking the just ten pounds, or "firming" up kind of over weight. I'm talking forty-pounds-of-WAY-too-much-fat kind of over weight. I have been embarrassed by it since I became over weight in the summer of 1992. For those of you who have not followed my blog, that is the summer I was pregnant, was in a car accident, fractured my spine and pelvis, suffered nerve damage, and lost my baby.
I have been careful about pictures I post and tag myself in on Facebook. I have even been careful of actually meeting some of my Facebook friends in person. Some of you I still would not have met in person if it wasn't for your little surprise meetings...Lord knows what you all would say about me when you see more then a face shot. I could not even think about the judging and the crappy things that might be said behind my back. "Wow! She sure the hell got fat." But today was a miracle:
Today I was in my third car accident. (If we don't count the time I didn't have my license and my drunk father decided I "needed to learn how to drive" on a gravel road by Lake Sara and went into a ditch.)
Today I was stared at by someone in another car. I waved and hollered, "What the heck! Why are people staring at me!" My eight year old responded, "Maybe it's because you're beautiful." I giggled. My fourteen year old step-daughter chimed in, "Well, you are pretty."
Today one of my friends who also struggles with her weight admitted that she did NOT un-tag herself from photos on Facebook. That she is who she is. She was at the MFbbq and if she un-tags herself then she would "disappear" from the event, like she was never there. I admired her and respected her so much that I had no words to say to her. I was in awe of her inner beauty (and honestly she is really super physically pretty too).
And last, but not least, today a friend who is in the "just ten pounds or firming up" category was called fat. And to that I say.....srsly, what the...?!?!?!?
So, no more un-tagging or not tagging for me. I am still losing weight. It is weight that I gained a long, long time ago. It weight that I have lost and regained and will someday permanently release and let go of. I am who I am and...
I am the Mother Freakin' Princess. I have weight to lose and friends to gain, lives to touch, and reasons to make people smile.
The Inner Princess
As you can tell, I have an inner-princess. She's been with me my whole life. When I was young we were almost inseparable. It was difficult for people to tell us apart. Many times people would confuse me with her, saying things like "You are such a pretty princess." or "Just look at you in that dress, what a little princess you are." I didn't mind the mix-up. I always thought my princess was pretty freaking awesome and wished I was able to let her out every day. The older I got, the less people saw of her. It was time to grow up and become an adult. It was time to leave the dreams of big parties, fancy dresses, and prince charming behind me. But inside me, she still remained.
I've been letting my inner-princess out more often again. Wearing my tiara to classy places like Costco, Target, and play dates at the park. The reactions I get have been much more positive then I had imagined. People smile and some times make really cute comments. The fact that I can brighten someone's day just by wearing a tiara and smiling at them makes me giggle. It has started to make me think about our inner-selves. I am certain I am not the only one with something great inside of me. We all have it. We all have that super hero waiting to come out. We were made to be spectacular. We were made to do good things. I was born to be a princess, and all I want to know is what's inside of you? What kind of super hero do you have itching to get out? Let your freak flag fly and give your super hero a chance today :)
I've been letting my inner-princess out more often again. Wearing my tiara to classy places like Costco, Target, and play dates at the park. The reactions I get have been much more positive then I had imagined. People smile and some times make really cute comments. The fact that I can brighten someone's day just by wearing a tiara and smiling at them makes me giggle. It has started to make me think about our inner-selves. I am certain I am not the only one with something great inside of me. We all have it. We all have that super hero waiting to come out. We were made to be spectacular. We were made to do good things. I was born to be a princess, and all I want to know is what's inside of you? What kind of super hero do you have itching to get out? Let your freak flag fly and give your super hero a chance today :)
Lost and Found
Have you ever lost a friend? Not because of something cruel or any sort of wrong-doing, but just because you let them slip away? I have. I've lost several. I miss them all and think of them often. I wonder what they are up to, if they are enjoying life. I wonder if they are struggling and needing a shoulder to cry on. I wonder if they remember me, as I remember them.
Thanks to Facebook, I have been blessed to find several of my lost friends. This weekend I was even able to reclaim one of them person. We got to swap old memories, dance, sing, and celebrate each other. It has made me incredibly happy to have found this friend and I am determined to never lose her again...I love you Christine Martenson-Wiorek, thank you for being my friend.
Thanks to Facebook, I have been blessed to find several of my lost friends. This weekend I was even able to reclaim one of them person. We got to swap old memories, dance, sing, and celebrate each other. It has made me incredibly happy to have found this friend and I am determined to never lose her again...I love you Christine Martenson-Wiorek, thank you for being my friend.
Behind the 10k
I ran a 10k race this weekend. When I was at my race I looked around at all the runners and thought of their stories. I wondered why they were running. Did they have something to prove? What were their challenges? How did their training go? I wondered which of the runners had stories like mine. I wanted to know how many of them fought for this race. I wanted to know how much this race meant to each and every one of them.
For you see, I haven’t always been a runner. In fact when first I signed up for cross country running in seventh grade, I’m not even sure I knew what cross country was. I remember my dad chuckling at the thought of me running every day after school because I was the kid who walked most of the mile run in gym class. Even during the first part of that cross country season I walked during my races. Something changed for me mid-year. I found out that I could run and I did enjoy it. I became strong and fast. What started for me as a way to spend more time away from home became a sport that I loved. In my new found love of running I was part of an amazing team. My cross country team was made up of great, fun loving people. I was happy when I ran and I could see myself running for the rest of my life. I began to have hopes and dreams of some day running a marathon.
After high school, I took a break from running. I was busy trying to figure out how to be an adult. I had a job and stuff to do. While I never totally forgot my dream of running a marathon, my focus shifted. Then Friday night, July 24th, 1992 my dreams of running a marathon were taken away from me by force. I was in a car accident that broke my pelvis, fractured two of my vertebrae, left me with nerve damage, and toes that no longer worked. Worse of all I had been about thirty six weeks pregnant. I was due to have my first child in about a month. On July 25th I gave birth to my still born daughter, Shea Marie.
I spent years in depression. I was in so much physical and mental pain I sometimes still wonder how I survived. I was told by doctors that there was nothing they could do for the nerve damage, but slowly, year by year, I started to heal. There were eventually times I didn’t need a cane to walk. There were eventually days where I didn’t burst out in random tears and cry myself to sleep at night. I started to dream of running again.
Each year I would strap on my running shoes and try. It was hard. Physically my body didn’t want to work. I would run a block and my foot would cramp up. I would spend the rest of the day fighting the massive cramps in my foot and crying from the pain. I pressed on. I forced it time and time again. I had decided that I would run again, that physically I would heal.
It has taken me almost sixteen years of small victories and painful setbacks, but I ran my first race since high school this weekend. I was nervous and afraid. I ran the whole way and while my time was a far cry from where it used to be, I’m proud. I finished my race and proved to myself that I can do it. This race was not only for me. I dedicated this race to my daughter, Shea Marie.
For you see, I haven’t always been a runner. In fact when first I signed up for cross country running in seventh grade, I’m not even sure I knew what cross country was. I remember my dad chuckling at the thought of me running every day after school because I was the kid who walked most of the mile run in gym class. Even during the first part of that cross country season I walked during my races. Something changed for me mid-year. I found out that I could run and I did enjoy it. I became strong and fast. What started for me as a way to spend more time away from home became a sport that I loved. In my new found love of running I was part of an amazing team. My cross country team was made up of great, fun loving people. I was happy when I ran and I could see myself running for the rest of my life. I began to have hopes and dreams of some day running a marathon.
After high school, I took a break from running. I was busy trying to figure out how to be an adult. I had a job and stuff to do. While I never totally forgot my dream of running a marathon, my focus shifted. Then Friday night, July 24th, 1992 my dreams of running a marathon were taken away from me by force. I was in a car accident that broke my pelvis, fractured two of my vertebrae, left me with nerve damage, and toes that no longer worked. Worse of all I had been about thirty six weeks pregnant. I was due to have my first child in about a month. On July 25th I gave birth to my still born daughter, Shea Marie.
I spent years in depression. I was in so much physical and mental pain I sometimes still wonder how I survived. I was told by doctors that there was nothing they could do for the nerve damage, but slowly, year by year, I started to heal. There were eventually times I didn’t need a cane to walk. There were eventually days where I didn’t burst out in random tears and cry myself to sleep at night. I started to dream of running again.
Each year I would strap on my running shoes and try. It was hard. Physically my body didn’t want to work. I would run a block and my foot would cramp up. I would spend the rest of the day fighting the massive cramps in my foot and crying from the pain. I pressed on. I forced it time and time again. I had decided that I would run again, that physically I would heal.
It has taken me almost sixteen years of small victories and painful setbacks, but I ran my first race since high school this weekend. I was nervous and afraid. I ran the whole way and while my time was a far cry from where it used to be, I’m proud. I finished my race and proved to myself that I can do it. This race was not only for me. I dedicated this race to my daughter, Shea Marie.
Star Von Bear
Just the other day I received a copy of the autobiography of Star Von Bunny from my sister. For those of you who aren't familiar with Star Von Bunny, she is a beautiful bunny who became a top model. I read about her adventures and stardom and immediately fell in love with her. Imagine my surprise when on my run this morning I see laying in the side of the road her cousin, Star Von Bear.
I was on my four mile run. I was tired and sore. I was stiff and hurting, mentally exhausted. There she was, laying there in the gutter on the corner County Road 9 and Vicksburg. I saw her and my heart ached, but I ran past. I had a run to do. I had things to get to. I had goals to achieve and places to be. I NEEDED this run.
Stride after stride I could not get her off my mind. Who's bear was she? Why was she there? How did she get lost? Is someone looking for her? I struggled to my half-way marker and I knew I would have to stop and see her on my way back.
She looked tired. She was dirty and sad, long forgotten and quite a bit mad. She was hurt, hungry, and confused. She needed a hug, a kind word, a bath, and a meal. I picked her up slowly so I wouldn't hurt her anymore. I held her gingerly and decided to bring her home.
The trip was difficult at first. I held her little, dirty body out away from mine. I was afraid of her filth. I didn't want the mud and the sand against me. I had my cutest running shirt on and what if she stained it? What if she dripped on my shoes? And as I ran and thought of her life and where I found her, what she had been through....I gripped her against my chest. I held her tight to tell her that I was happy to have found her. I wanted to let her know that she would be okay. I would take care of her. I would clean her up. I would hug her. I would laugh with her and let her sleep in my bed. I will love her.
To the little girl or boy who lost Star Von Bear at the corner of County Road 9 and Vicksburg: I found her. I know she's not "mine" and I will love her for you until you need her again.
I was on my four mile run. I was tired and sore. I was stiff and hurting, mentally exhausted. There she was, laying there in the gutter on the corner County Road 9 and Vicksburg. I saw her and my heart ached, but I ran past. I had a run to do. I had things to get to. I had goals to achieve and places to be. I NEEDED this run.
Stride after stride I could not get her off my mind. Who's bear was she? Why was she there? How did she get lost? Is someone looking for her? I struggled to my half-way marker and I knew I would have to stop and see her on my way back.
She looked tired. She was dirty and sad, long forgotten and quite a bit mad. She was hurt, hungry, and confused. She needed a hug, a kind word, a bath, and a meal. I picked her up slowly so I wouldn't hurt her anymore. I held her gingerly and decided to bring her home.
The trip was difficult at first. I held her little, dirty body out away from mine. I was afraid of her filth. I didn't want the mud and the sand against me. I had my cutest running shirt on and what if she stained it? What if she dripped on my shoes? And as I ran and thought of her life and where I found her, what she had been through....I gripped her against my chest. I held her tight to tell her that I was happy to have found her. I wanted to let her know that she would be okay. I would take care of her. I would clean her up. I would hug her. I would laugh with her and let her sleep in my bed. I will love her.
To the little girl or boy who lost Star Von Bear at the corner of County Road 9 and Vicksburg: I found her. I know she's not "mine" and I will love her for you until you need her again.
The P.J. Party
I was recently invited to a girl's pj party. I know, it might seem that I am a bit too old for pjs and toilet papering, but I'm not. The invitation was a nice surprise. It was being hosted by a woman who I think is amazingly intelligent and kind. In fact, when I got my e-vite and glanced through the who's invited list, I asked myself (out loud), "Why did I get invited?" The women who were on the e-vite list totally outclassed me.
The day of the pj party came. Of those who responded "yes", I was the only plain-ordinary-less-then-highly-intelligent, woman going. I called my sister in a panic. My only question: "What if they don't like me?" and in her brilliant-don't-take-shit-from-anyone-way she responded. "It's not like middle school. They don't invite the one girl from the trailer park to make fun of any more." Not to be outdone by her common sense I say, "but they are all really smart and stuff. They know Shakespeare and read The Classics." "What if they don't like me?" I say again, just in case she didn't understand the question. And she says one of the most profound things I have ever heard. She says, "Not everyone has to like you."
WHAT?!?!? I make her say it again. "Not. Everyone. Has. To. Like. You." she says. In that moment a sense of relief washed over me. It's true. Not everyone has to like me.
I'm silly and immature. I'm fun and most often crazy. I'm sensitive and strong. I often try hard to not cry. I forget people's names and don't remember birthdays. I haven't been to college and I use spell check a lot. My hair is naturally wavy and unnaturally died. I hate making decisions and I love potatoes. I've hurt and I've been hurt. I'm bold and insecure. I'm usually right, but when I'm wrong I admit it.
I'm me and you don't have to like me ~ but I sure hope you do :)
The day of the pj party came. Of those who responded "yes", I was the only plain-ordinary-less-then-highly-intelligent, woman going. I called my sister in a panic. My only question: "What if they don't like me?" and in her brilliant-don't-take-shit-from-anyone-way she responded. "It's not like middle school. They don't invite the one girl from the trailer park to make fun of any more." Not to be outdone by her common sense I say, "but they are all really smart and stuff. They know Shakespeare and read The Classics." "What if they don't like me?" I say again, just in case she didn't understand the question. And she says one of the most profound things I have ever heard. She says, "Not everyone has to like you."
WHAT?!?!? I make her say it again. "Not. Everyone. Has. To. Like. You." she says. In that moment a sense of relief washed over me. It's true. Not everyone has to like me.
I'm silly and immature. I'm fun and most often crazy. I'm sensitive and strong. I often try hard to not cry. I forget people's names and don't remember birthdays. I haven't been to college and I use spell check a lot. My hair is naturally wavy and unnaturally died. I hate making decisions and I love potatoes. I've hurt and I've been hurt. I'm bold and insecure. I'm usually right, but when I'm wrong I admit it.
I'm me and you don't have to like me ~ but I sure hope you do :)
The Evolution of a Princess
It started innocently enough. Dreams as a young child of being a fairy princess. Feeling myself having the grace and beauty of a prima ballerina (sans the mutilated feet), spending my days with the "nobles", attending several tea parties with The Queen, always donning my tiara and tutu.
The changes happened slowly. The tiara and tutu were turned into "dress up clothes". They were only to be used during slumber parties or when playing with the little sister. Then somewhere along the line it became uncool to be a princess. Most girls were coveting Olivia Newton John or Madonna. The princess gear was tossed in the back of the closet collecting dust with the barrage of stuffed animals. My heart was still aching for the sparkle of the tiara...the swish of the perfect spinning dress, but it was time to grow up.
So I did the right thing. I grew up. I got married (twice) and had kids (mine, his, and ours). I had jobs, bought a mini-van, and a house. I quit singing to songs on the radio. I wore grown up clothes and shoes. I even started wearing socks in the winter. I balanced my check book and paid my bills on time. My princess dreams were kept alive by my sister, a note card here, an ornament there...tiny reminders of what was in my heart so long ago.
And then some where in suburbia it hit me! I was not predetermined to be a boring, middle class wife and mother.
NO, I was born to be a Mother Freakin' Princess!
The changes happened slowly. The tiara and tutu were turned into "dress up clothes". They were only to be used during slumber parties or when playing with the little sister. Then somewhere along the line it became uncool to be a princess. Most girls were coveting Olivia Newton John or Madonna. The princess gear was tossed in the back of the closet collecting dust with the barrage of stuffed animals. My heart was still aching for the sparkle of the tiara...the swish of the perfect spinning dress, but it was time to grow up.
So I did the right thing. I grew up. I got married (twice) and had kids (mine, his, and ours). I had jobs, bought a mini-van, and a house. I quit singing to songs on the radio. I wore grown up clothes and shoes. I even started wearing socks in the winter. I balanced my check book and paid my bills on time. My princess dreams were kept alive by my sister, a note card here, an ornament there...tiny reminders of what was in my heart so long ago.
And then some where in suburbia it hit me! I was not predetermined to be a boring, middle class wife and mother.
NO, I was born to be a Mother Freakin' Princess!
