I did this for my friends on Facebook who were bugging me to complete it. It took so much time, I decided to post it here too. At least get the mileage out of my suffering through it. Hopefully, these are random enough that some might surprise you.
25 Things About me
1. I have a very traumatic memory of Brussel Sprouts as a kid. I have had therapy, but I still can’t look at them without feeling insecure and sick to my stomach.
2. I believe in the power of positive thinking.
3. I am hopelessly in love with my dogs.
4. I love to have people over, for drinks, for dinners, to hang out.
5. I think sometimes your friends can be more like family to you than some of your family.
6. The day I got married I was scared to death I would screw it up.
7. I believe in Angels, Ghosts, Jesus and Reincarnation and no matter what your religion is I don’t believe you are wrong.
8. I love to run, drive fast, and listen to loud music.
9. I love having my kids around, but a lot of times I am desperate for a quiet moment.
10. I cuss a lot... in front of my kids, and I don’t feel guilty about it.
11. I am a Colorado Native and I hate to ski. I’m the “sit in the lodge, with a cocktail” girl.
12. I used to own a V8, green Mustang Convertible with brown leather seats and I really miss it.
13. I think my sister and I are really twins born 15 months apart.
14. My husband saved me from myself.
15. I am a better person than I was when I was younger.
16. I hate cats and thought it was funny when mine got eaten by a Mountain Lion.
17. I think I’m really funny, and I love people who make me laugh.
18. I HATE doing laundry more than anything else. Ridiculous, never-ending, mundane, thoughtless task!
19. I love to paint. Not pictures but rooms in my house, because that is a task you can complete and I love the feeling when it’s all done and looks different.
20. I like to change my hair a lot just to add a little excitement to my husband’s life, although I’m not sure he even notices anymore.
21. I know what a really bad day is so I have no patience for people who are always finding something to complain about.
22. I believe you can tell everything about a person by whether or not they smile easily and by looking in their eyes.
23. I love to learn new words, try new foods, and go to new places.
24. I often have too much on my mind and have trouble focusing on one thing at a time.
25. I really, really like to make shit up. Have a complete fantasy life going on in my head. Go to places where no one knows me and pretend to be someone different. Lose myself in good books or good movies. I love to tell stories.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Happy Birthday!
Eight years ago today, my sister timed my contractions all through the first half of the Superbowl. As the end of the game approached we knew we were headed for the hospital. I remember standing in my living room in the dark for a moment by myself, feeling a contraction bearing down and knowing my life would change forever.As DH drove through a snowstorm with my sister in the back still timing my contractions, I had every imaginable thought about what might possibly go wrong. By the time we got to the hospital an hour later, I was cussing.
I realize that’s not surprising for those of you who know me, but I seriously thought I was gonna die. I was hollering for all I was worth. Then my favorite man in the entire world walked through the door… The anesthesiologist! He took that giant needle and stuck it in my back and everything was sunshine and roses again.
My DH really wanted a boy. In fact he asked me before he agreed to marry me, if I would have as many as it took to get a boy. I was sure we’d have a bus load of girls and I’d be bearing children until my eggs would no longer hatch. My sister, who already had two boys of her own, really wanted a girl. I really wanted a baby.
When the baby finally came, it was January 29th his actual due date. I heard my sister say in a completely disgusted voice, “That, would be a boy,” and I saw DH pump his fists in the air like he’d just won the lottery. I had my baby, that’s all that mattered to me.
DH declared his name… then they weighed the baby, 6lbs 4oz. This next part will stick in my mind for all eternity, my darling sister announcing, “Wow, I thought surely she’d have a much bigger baby.”The only part better than actually having the baby was getting to call my in-laws. This was their first grandbaby and telling them he was here, was a lot of fun.
The first day he was home, we found out he had Jaundice. Our precious baby got to live in a suitcase for the first week of his life. After that we just let him live under the counter.
Here it is eight years later. I am so blessed to have such a fine young man to call my son. He is such a delight. Happy Birthday, baby!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
"Read to me, Mama"
I lost my darn parent pamphlet and I'm pretty sure I'm not doing it right.
Let me start at the beginning. I started reading to my son when he was six months old. My friends and family would marvel at the basket of books in our living room that our toddler would constantly bring over to hear us read. He would sit in my lap and listen to one after another, after another. Friends would ask me how I did it, how I got him so interested. I honestly didn't do anything but offer them to him and he loved it.
I was always a good reader. I loved it from the very beginning. I get very nostalgic when I think of all the great stories I read when I was a kid. I loved it. Because of these two things, I always assumed my kids would be the same way. I'm not sure I even assumed it so much as not giving it a second thought. Sure they would read, why wouldn't they?
You can imagine my surprise when at the end of Kindergarten his teacher pulled me in to put him on a reading plan. He simply wasn't getting it. I was shocked. I didn't realize this was something I was going to have to really teach him. I just thought he'd pick it up the same as riding a bike or losing a tooth. It just happened, right?
Um... apparently not.
He's in second grade now, and while he's really doing great, he's still a little behind and he just doesn't seem to like it much. I know I put pressure on him to be a good reader. I just think it's so important. How will he ever be a good student if he's not a good reader?
Tonight, he had a little melt down. He's only in second grade and he's feeling the stress. He thinks it's all really hard. I sit here tonight feeling like a pretty crappy mom. I want so much for him, I just don't know how to help him achieve it.
Let me start at the beginning. I started reading to my son when he was six months old. My friends and family would marvel at the basket of books in our living room that our toddler would constantly bring over to hear us read. He would sit in my lap and listen to one after another, after another. Friends would ask me how I did it, how I got him so interested. I honestly didn't do anything but offer them to him and he loved it.
I was always a good reader. I loved it from the very beginning. I get very nostalgic when I think of all the great stories I read when I was a kid. I loved it. Because of these two things, I always assumed my kids would be the same way. I'm not sure I even assumed it so much as not giving it a second thought. Sure they would read, why wouldn't they?
You can imagine my surprise when at the end of Kindergarten his teacher pulled me in to put him on a reading plan. He simply wasn't getting it. I was shocked. I didn't realize this was something I was going to have to really teach him. I just thought he'd pick it up the same as riding a bike or losing a tooth. It just happened, right?
Um... apparently not.
He's in second grade now, and while he's really doing great, he's still a little behind and he just doesn't seem to like it much. I know I put pressure on him to be a good reader. I just think it's so important. How will he ever be a good student if he's not a good reader?
Tonight, he had a little melt down. He's only in second grade and he's feeling the stress. He thinks it's all really hard. I sit here tonight feeling like a pretty crappy mom. I want so much for him, I just don't know how to help him achieve it.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Beanbags ROCK!
The dog trainer came this morning and much to the surprise of my husband, she succeeded in turning Cujo into Lassie in about 90 minutes. By the time she was done with him the dog could juggle and dance a jig while saving Timmy at the same time.
Trouble is, now it’s up to me to keep Lassie convinced I’m the one in charge. She’s been gone about 30 minutes and he’s still in a total state of WTF just happened here. It makes me laugh out loud to have him look to see if it’s okay with me for him to lie down.
She armed me with the new growl noise (which hubby finds hysterical and slightly sexy) and the new threat. Apparently, I was not being threatening enough. I have three beanbag looking devices that have chain inside them similar to choke chain. When he doesn’t listen, I drop one of them in front of him and it scares him silly. Big 100-pound dog turns into a big baby over a beanbag! Can you believe it?? Me neither.
I am giddy with delight! Seriously, giddy! HA HA Dog. A few hundred dollars bought me a couple of SCARY beanbags and a whole new dog. Who woulda thunk it? Now if I can just train the kids the same way, my life is back under control.
Trouble is, now it’s up to me to keep Lassie convinced I’m the one in charge. She’s been gone about 30 minutes and he’s still in a total state of WTF just happened here. It makes me laugh out loud to have him look to see if it’s okay with me for him to lie down.
She armed me with the new growl noise (which hubby finds hysterical and slightly sexy) and the new threat. Apparently, I was not being threatening enough. I have three beanbag looking devices that have chain inside them similar to choke chain. When he doesn’t listen, I drop one of them in front of him and it scares him silly. Big 100-pound dog turns into a big baby over a beanbag! Can you believe it?? Me neither.
I am giddy with delight! Seriously, giddy! HA HA Dog. A few hundred dollars bought me a couple of SCARY beanbags and a whole new dog. Who woulda thunk it? Now if I can just train the kids the same way, my life is back under control.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Painting
One snowy white morning, I was driving my kids to school when my son shared with me his friends idea of a snow covered day. She told him God decided he wanted to paint that day so by morning, he had turned everything totally white. He could start over and spend the whole day painting the world all the beautiful colors for a second time.
That's the way it works in Colorado. You wake up to the entire world covered in white and by the afternoon, all the colors are back. It's a nice image to think of God with a giant paintbrush taking his time to color all the world back the way he likes it.
If this is the way it works then God decided to start with Gray this morning. I got up at 7:00AM and went out to walk our old dog. We can't let him out by himself anymore or he wanders away. I don't really know if he's out exploring the world or if he follows his nose and ends up lost. I tend to think the latter.
It reminds me of the time when I was in high school, my mom and I were driving past an old folks home that had a wide open field next to it. Out in the field, an old woman in a robe and slippers was running as fast as her 80 year old legs would take her. Not far behind were the nurses trying to catch her. I was sure, in my infinite wisdom of 17, she was enjoying a moment of freedom. Now it occurs to me she may have been lost and desperately trying to figure out where she belonged.
For this reason, I completely enjoy giving my dog our time out in the morning. He takes his time sniffing around, as if things might have changed since the night before, occasionally looking back just to make sure I'm still there... making sure I don't get lost.
This morning while we were out I noticed the quiet, then I noticed the gray. The trees were gray and the ground was gray. The entire sky was gray, with a mist of low hanging gray clouds completely erasing the mountains we live by. I honestly couldn't see one single thing that wasn't gray.
I thought about my kid's friend for a moment, then I thought about how much I would appreciate all the colors when God got done painting later today.
That's the way it works in Colorado. You wake up to the entire world covered in white and by the afternoon, all the colors are back. It's a nice image to think of God with a giant paintbrush taking his time to color all the world back the way he likes it.
If this is the way it works then God decided to start with Gray this morning. I got up at 7:00AM and went out to walk our old dog. We can't let him out by himself anymore or he wanders away. I don't really know if he's out exploring the world or if he follows his nose and ends up lost. I tend to think the latter.
It reminds me of the time when I was in high school, my mom and I were driving past an old folks home that had a wide open field next to it. Out in the field, an old woman in a robe and slippers was running as fast as her 80 year old legs would take her. Not far behind were the nurses trying to catch her. I was sure, in my infinite wisdom of 17, she was enjoying a moment of freedom. Now it occurs to me she may have been lost and desperately trying to figure out where she belonged.
For this reason, I completely enjoy giving my dog our time out in the morning. He takes his time sniffing around, as if things might have changed since the night before, occasionally looking back just to make sure I'm still there... making sure I don't get lost.
This morning while we were out I noticed the quiet, then I noticed the gray. The trees were gray and the ground was gray. The entire sky was gray, with a mist of low hanging gray clouds completely erasing the mountains we live by. I honestly couldn't see one single thing that wasn't gray.
I thought about my kid's friend for a moment, then I thought about how much I would appreciate all the colors when God got done painting later today.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
The Butterfly Effect
The Butterfly effect from Wikipedia:
“The phrase refers to the idea that a butterfly’s wings might create tiny changes in the atmosphere that may ultimately alter the path of a tornado or delay, accelerate or even prevent the occurrence of a tornado in a certain location. The flapping wing represents a small change in the initial condition of the system, which causes a chain of events leading to large-scale alterations of events. Had the butterfly not flapped its wings, the trajectory of the system might have been vastly different. While the butterfly does not cause the tornado, the flap of its wings is an essential part of the initial conditions resulting in a tornado.”
I just finished reading, “The Hour I First Believed” By Wally Lamb. It’s a long book with a lot going on, but one thing that caught my attention and stuck is the Chaos Complexity Theory – which is basically the Butterfly Effect.
What a fascinating theory. It reminds me and makes me consider the overall effect we as human beings have on one another. While we may not create the chaos that happens in another person’s life, what we do, our actions before and after may effect the outcome or severity of the chaos.
Here in my home town, there is a big controversy happening about our responsibilities to help one another in our community. The way the situation has been handled so far has created far more chaos than I ever imagined could be brought about by people I call neighbors and friends.
The smallest amount of generosity shown to another human being, results in a kindness that cannot be measured. I know this is true. I have lived this kind of generosity. This holds true for every interaction we share with others. The kindness shown to a child, or a single abuse forced on that child, has a long-standing effect on who that person becomes and what they will in turn reflect upon others.
On this day, when our newest president takes office, I must consider the desire he has to affect other people through hope for our future. The actions it will take to make a significant change in our country are not his alone but all of our responsibility. While some mock his desire to instill hope as an action plan, I do have hope. It occurs to me the simple act of hope, may in fact be as subtle as the flap of the butterfly’s wings.
Call me Pollyanna or naïve, call me whatever you like, but know, that my actions will always be considered. For while the butterfly may not be aware of it’s power over situations, we as human beings must be aware that the extent of our action or inaction will cause a tornado, or possibly alter it’s course, and with that in mind, it should never be a question of whether or not we will help ~ but simply how can we best serve those who cross our path?
“The phrase refers to the idea that a butterfly’s wings might create tiny changes in the atmosphere that may ultimately alter the path of a tornado or delay, accelerate or even prevent the occurrence of a tornado in a certain location. The flapping wing represents a small change in the initial condition of the system, which causes a chain of events leading to large-scale alterations of events. Had the butterfly not flapped its wings, the trajectory of the system might have been vastly different. While the butterfly does not cause the tornado, the flap of its wings is an essential part of the initial conditions resulting in a tornado.”
I just finished reading, “The Hour I First Believed” By Wally Lamb. It’s a long book with a lot going on, but one thing that caught my attention and stuck is the Chaos Complexity Theory – which is basically the Butterfly Effect.
What a fascinating theory. It reminds me and makes me consider the overall effect we as human beings have on one another. While we may not create the chaos that happens in another person’s life, what we do, our actions before and after may effect the outcome or severity of the chaos.
Here in my home town, there is a big controversy happening about our responsibilities to help one another in our community. The way the situation has been handled so far has created far more chaos than I ever imagined could be brought about by people I call neighbors and friends.
The smallest amount of generosity shown to another human being, results in a kindness that cannot be measured. I know this is true. I have lived this kind of generosity. This holds true for every interaction we share with others. The kindness shown to a child, or a single abuse forced on that child, has a long-standing effect on who that person becomes and what they will in turn reflect upon others.
On this day, when our newest president takes office, I must consider the desire he has to affect other people through hope for our future. The actions it will take to make a significant change in our country are not his alone but all of our responsibility. While some mock his desire to instill hope as an action plan, I do have hope. It occurs to me the simple act of hope, may in fact be as subtle as the flap of the butterfly’s wings.
Call me Pollyanna or naïve, call me whatever you like, but know, that my actions will always be considered. For while the butterfly may not be aware of it’s power over situations, we as human beings must be aware that the extent of our action or inaction will cause a tornado, or possibly alter it’s course, and with that in mind, it should never be a question of whether or not we will help ~ but simply how can we best serve those who cross our path?
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Sprinkles
SCARY DAY!
Went to Chick-Fil-A during the lunch hour. Took my five year old. She was chomping at the bit to spend a little time in the germ-infested playroom. I haven’t been there in a really long time.
When we first walked in I noticed the place was packed. It was incredibly loud with little voices reverberating off the walls. There was also a multitude of strange bouncing balls of energy. They were different sizes and shapes and they were bouncing plainly off the floor. I panicked for a second, thinking I had accidentally wound up in Chucky Cheese Hell.
We don’t go there anymore since my son was three and peed inside the tubing six feet off the floor after he refused for three hours to come down. I finally had to squeeze my big, just had the second baby butt, up into the tubing and drag him kicking, screaming and dripping all the way back down...but that's a whole nother Oprah!
Back at Chick-Fil-A, the first thing DD (Darling Daughter) noticed were the ice-cream cones they were handing out. There is also a “Sprinkle” station set up where the little darlings can empty an entire bottle of sugar on top of their ice cream. That’s when I realized the bouncing balls of energy were actually children who were sugared up, high as kite!
I got our meals and found an out of the way table in the corner, while DD skipped off to play in the enclosed glass cage. It’s kind of like watching monkeys at the zoo. You can see them laugh and play, fight and cry but you can’t hear a single sound. I happily began stuffing those fat-free waffle fries in my mouth while I gazed around the room.
Sitting next to me was a table of three mothers. I have no idea how many children they actually had because they only occasionally bounced back to the table at random times. The kids were running around the restaurant, getting their own soda refills, and pouring milk on one another. The mothers never looked at them once. It was a complete free for all.
I looked at the mother who was sitting directly across from me; actually I was staring at her. She never noticed. She was glassy-eyed and fixated on the adult conversation that was happening at her table. That’s when it hit me. In the early stages of motherhood, when the sheer delight at being able to stay home wears off, you realize that watching a six month old in her saucer suck on the little wobbly bee just isn’t very fascinating!
You crave the adult conversation so badly, that when you hit the big PAY DAY and end up in a kid friendly restaurant with not one but TWO other adults who are willing to listen to you, there’s no way in HELL you’re going to pull yourself away unless that kid next to you throws up in your lap; truthfully, maybe not even then.
After DD finished wallowing with the monkeys and ate a few bites of her sandwich she was ready for that ice cream. She’s pretty shy so I have to make her do things on her own. I sent her up to the counter to ask for herself.
You won’t believe this part… seriously, I was floored…
They won’t give you a free ice cream unless you TRADE IN the book they just gave you as a prize in the kid’s meal. They are making kids decide between a book and an ice cream cone with sugar topping! And we wonder why our kids are illiterate! Let me just tell you as a writer and a big reader I was less than pleased when she came back near tears.
There wasn’t any way I was going to make her give up a book for that treat, so I went to the counter to buy her a cone. When I asked for the kid’s cone, the guy tells me, “If she gives back the book she can have it free.” It took everything in me not to jump across the counter and choke the poor sucker.
“Yep, she told me,” I said, “But she doesn’t want to give up the book, so I’ll just buy the cone.”
The place erupted like I had just asked for all the money out of the register. “Did ja hear that? Kid don’t want to give up her book.”
"What? But it’s for a FREE ICE CREAM!”
“I better get the manager.”
I bent down to my DD and asked her, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go to Dairy Queen?”
“But Mama, I want to do my own sprinkles.”
“We could go to the store, you could have a quart of ice cream and a whole jar of sprinkles to yourself.”
"I just want those sprinkles.”
So, I stuck it out, waited for the manager. Explained to him, she didn’t want to trade in her book for a cone. Told him I just wanted to buy the damn thing. He gave me the roll of the eyes and slight but noticable shake of the head, but he gave her the cone and didn’t charge me. Hallelujah!
Guess what DD said after one lick of the cone?
“Mama, I really don’t like the sprinkles.”
Went to Chick-Fil-A during the lunch hour. Took my five year old. She was chomping at the bit to spend a little time in the germ-infested playroom. I haven’t been there in a really long time.
When we first walked in I noticed the place was packed. It was incredibly loud with little voices reverberating off the walls. There was also a multitude of strange bouncing balls of energy. They were different sizes and shapes and they were bouncing plainly off the floor. I panicked for a second, thinking I had accidentally wound up in Chucky Cheese Hell.
We don’t go there anymore since my son was three and peed inside the tubing six feet off the floor after he refused for three hours to come down. I finally had to squeeze my big, just had the second baby butt, up into the tubing and drag him kicking, screaming and dripping all the way back down...but that's a whole nother Oprah!
Back at Chick-Fil-A, the first thing DD (Darling Daughter) noticed were the ice-cream cones they were handing out. There is also a “Sprinkle” station set up where the little darlings can empty an entire bottle of sugar on top of their ice cream. That’s when I realized the bouncing balls of energy were actually children who were sugared up, high as kite!
I got our meals and found an out of the way table in the corner, while DD skipped off to play in the enclosed glass cage. It’s kind of like watching monkeys at the zoo. You can see them laugh and play, fight and cry but you can’t hear a single sound. I happily began stuffing those fat-free waffle fries in my mouth while I gazed around the room.
Sitting next to me was a table of three mothers. I have no idea how many children they actually had because they only occasionally bounced back to the table at random times. The kids were running around the restaurant, getting their own soda refills, and pouring milk on one another. The mothers never looked at them once. It was a complete free for all.
I looked at the mother who was sitting directly across from me; actually I was staring at her. She never noticed. She was glassy-eyed and fixated on the adult conversation that was happening at her table. That’s when it hit me. In the early stages of motherhood, when the sheer delight at being able to stay home wears off, you realize that watching a six month old in her saucer suck on the little wobbly bee just isn’t very fascinating!
You crave the adult conversation so badly, that when you hit the big PAY DAY and end up in a kid friendly restaurant with not one but TWO other adults who are willing to listen to you, there’s no way in HELL you’re going to pull yourself away unless that kid next to you throws up in your lap; truthfully, maybe not even then.
After DD finished wallowing with the monkeys and ate a few bites of her sandwich she was ready for that ice cream. She’s pretty shy so I have to make her do things on her own. I sent her up to the counter to ask for herself.
You won’t believe this part… seriously, I was floored…
They won’t give you a free ice cream unless you TRADE IN the book they just gave you as a prize in the kid’s meal. They are making kids decide between a book and an ice cream cone with sugar topping! And we wonder why our kids are illiterate! Let me just tell you as a writer and a big reader I was less than pleased when she came back near tears.
There wasn’t any way I was going to make her give up a book for that treat, so I went to the counter to buy her a cone. When I asked for the kid’s cone, the guy tells me, “If she gives back the book she can have it free.” It took everything in me not to jump across the counter and choke the poor sucker.
“Yep, she told me,” I said, “But she doesn’t want to give up the book, so I’ll just buy the cone.”
The place erupted like I had just asked for all the money out of the register. “Did ja hear that? Kid don’t want to give up her book.”
"What? But it’s for a FREE ICE CREAM!”
“I better get the manager.”
I bent down to my DD and asked her, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go to Dairy Queen?”
“But Mama, I want to do my own sprinkles.”
“We could go to the store, you could have a quart of ice cream and a whole jar of sprinkles to yourself.”
"I just want those sprinkles.”
So, I stuck it out, waited for the manager. Explained to him, she didn’t want to trade in her book for a cone. Told him I just wanted to buy the damn thing. He gave me the roll of the eyes and slight but noticable shake of the head, but he gave her the cone and didn’t charge me. Hallelujah!
Guess what DD said after one lick of the cone?
“Mama, I really don’t like the sprinkles.”
Thursday, January 8, 2009
For Steph
ass over teacup
that’s where we all lie
when life has surprised us
with questions of why
ass over teacup
when our spiritual side
hides in the darkness
where misfortune resides
ass over teacup
so much easier to be
than facing the hurt
or attempting to flee
ass over teacup
can’t take a stand
it takes a village
when the shit hits the fan
ass over teacup
help’s on the way
your heart calls out
what your voice can’t say
ass over teacup
maybe you, maybe me
the blink that is life
makes it impossible to see
that’s where we all lie
when life has surprised us
with questions of why
ass over teacup
when our spiritual side
hides in the darkness
where misfortune resides
ass over teacup
so much easier to be
than facing the hurt
or attempting to flee
ass over teacup
can’t take a stand
it takes a village
when the shit hits the fan
ass over teacup
help’s on the way
your heart calls out
what your voice can’t say
ass over teacup
maybe you, maybe me
the blink that is life
makes it impossible to see
Cujo
Menace to Society! No not the girl, although she TOTALLY is, the dog. That's what my vet called him yesterday. We just lovingly refer to him as Cujo. Come on, I mean he just tried to eat the vet. Aren't they used to that kind of thing?
I knew, he was going to. I saw the signs. The morning walk to the bus stop was a complete disaster. He grabbed a hold of the leash for a little tug of war. Knocking me clean into a snow bank. The poor kid that waits with us is afraid of dogs. Nothing like a little Menace to Society to root that fear clear into therapy as an adult. I watch his eyes getting wider as the dog yanks me off balance. Clearly no control.
I'm not completely irresponsible. He tried to eat another guy in the neighborhood a while back. That's when I recognized the problem. We've been to PetSmart training classes twice. The first time as a little puppy. He passed with flying colors. The second time, not so much.
He has a very stubborn disposition, and he just WON'T stay. Can't really step up to the "go to your bed," without knowing how to stay first. Besides the fact the trainer didn't really want me to let go of the leash in the store for fear he would ingest one of the other dogs. Why do people buy little dogs anyway? I always assumed they were meant to be a snack.
The vet seriously lectured me for about 20 minutes on the dangers of having an unpredictable dog. Then she handed me the pamphlet for the Bark Busters dog trainers. They come to your house and give you a life time guarantee. If at anytime in the dog's life he reverts back to bad behavior or he picks up some other undesirable trait, they will come out for free and fix him again. While she was telling me this all I could hear was Ka-Ching, Ka-Ching.
My darling hubby would rather shoot this dog than spend another dime on him. Guess it's time to pull out the Bambi voice again. Does anyone know the Dog Whisperer? I betcha he wouldn't even be able to shush this dog.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Oops!
Most embarrassing moment of 2009.
Decided today after running to call hubby about a little love time. You know... kids back in school, Hubby's in the basement pretending to work. I figured we could use a little break.
I pick up the phone and dial him. Yes, I'm upstairs, he's in the basement. I could have shouted at him from the top of the stairs, but I thought this would be more fun. A little sexy afternoon caller, what a GREAT idea.
He answers, I launch full blown into my "Bambi voice" offering some very inventive and specific ideas if he would just like to come up the stairs to join me.
One problem... I dialed the wrong number.
I spent the next 10 minutes trying to convince this random guy at the other end of the line that I was not crank calling him and he should definitely NOT call the police.
These sorts of things really don't happen to other people, do they?
Decided today after running to call hubby about a little love time. You know... kids back in school, Hubby's in the basement pretending to work. I figured we could use a little break.
I pick up the phone and dial him. Yes, I'm upstairs, he's in the basement. I could have shouted at him from the top of the stairs, but I thought this would be more fun. A little sexy afternoon caller, what a GREAT idea.
He answers, I launch full blown into my "Bambi voice" offering some very inventive and specific ideas if he would just like to come up the stairs to join me.
One problem... I dialed the wrong number.
I spent the next 10 minutes trying to convince this random guy at the other end of the line that I was not crank calling him and he should definitely NOT call the police.
These sorts of things really don't happen to other people, do they?
Kids in School ~ Lets RUN!!
Kids are back in school. This officially begins the New Year! Hubby took them to the bus stop because it's FREEZING cold today and I am a spoiled princess who wouldn't be happy standing at the bus stop.
So, the second they walk their little bus, bound, booties out the door, I decide to change into my running clothes and get started on this whole Boulder Boulder goal. 6 miles, (actually, a little more than 6, but my friend waited until I'd had a couple of martinis to tell me that little tidbit) in under 60 minutes. Yep, that's the goal...
Today however, it wasn't pretty...
The first mile, listening to a little Katy Perry ~ I kissed a girl, great song, a little Pink! the new Funhouse CD. Totally great running music, really getting into it now. I think, "I love running, how come I haven't been doing this everyday?"
Mile two rolls around a little slowly. I'm at 30 minutes already. This is when I usually stop. "But I'm motivated today, I'm doing at least 4 miles." I have a cold so the coughing was a little distracting. About 2 and 1/2 miles and the dog needed to be let in, so I jumped off and jogged to the door. "Wow, my legs are a little sore."
Gwen Stephani comes on, Wind it Up! I love this one, I can keep going. I start out at a good pace. "hmmm... my legs really are tired already, maybe I'll fast walk... Why am I doing this?"
Mile 3 comes up. "I think I may need to throw up. Okay, it's taken me longer than I wanted but I only have one mile left, right? Lets try Queen that always gets me going..." Bicycle Race is my ultimate running song. When they get to the part, "On your marks, get set, GO." I run like there is a boogie man chasing me. I'm gonna win this damn race if it kills me. But, not today...
I barely get through the, "You say Black, I say White. You say Bark, I say Bite." Nope, this isn't gonna work today. Let's switch to a Salt-N-Peppa, Push it. Not even that could get me going in that last mile.
As 3 1/2 miles slowly turned up on the display, I had to grab onto the bars on both sides to avoid spilling off the back side of the treadmill and landing in a heap. I ended the 4 miles listening to SpongeBob, The Best Day Ever, because I couldn't let go of the bars to change the song. I'll have to thank my son for adding that to my running music later.
The New Year has begun. If I wasn't such a Pollyanna, look at the bright side, kinda person, today would have been the last day for that little resolution, but I am Pollyanna, and I think by May she will be able to run 6.25 miles in 60 minutes, even if it kills her.
So, the second they walk their little bus, bound, booties out the door, I decide to change into my running clothes and get started on this whole Boulder Boulder goal. 6 miles, (actually, a little more than 6, but my friend waited until I'd had a couple of martinis to tell me that little tidbit) in under 60 minutes. Yep, that's the goal...
Today however, it wasn't pretty...
The first mile, listening to a little Katy Perry ~ I kissed a girl, great song, a little Pink! the new Funhouse CD. Totally great running music, really getting into it now. I think, "I love running, how come I haven't been doing this everyday?"
Mile two rolls around a little slowly. I'm at 30 minutes already. This is when I usually stop. "But I'm motivated today, I'm doing at least 4 miles." I have a cold so the coughing was a little distracting. About 2 and 1/2 miles and the dog needed to be let in, so I jumped off and jogged to the door. "Wow, my legs are a little sore."
Gwen Stephani comes on, Wind it Up! I love this one, I can keep going. I start out at a good pace. "hmmm... my legs really are tired already, maybe I'll fast walk... Why am I doing this?"
Mile 3 comes up. "I think I may need to throw up. Okay, it's taken me longer than I wanted but I only have one mile left, right? Lets try Queen that always gets me going..." Bicycle Race is my ultimate running song. When they get to the part, "On your marks, get set, GO." I run like there is a boogie man chasing me. I'm gonna win this damn race if it kills me. But, not today...
I barely get through the, "You say Black, I say White. You say Bark, I say Bite." Nope, this isn't gonna work today. Let's switch to a Salt-N-Peppa, Push it. Not even that could get me going in that last mile.
As 3 1/2 miles slowly turned up on the display, I had to grab onto the bars on both sides to avoid spilling off the back side of the treadmill and landing in a heap. I ended the 4 miles listening to SpongeBob, The Best Day Ever, because I couldn't let go of the bars to change the song. I'll have to thank my son for adding that to my running music later.
The New Year has begun. If I wasn't such a Pollyanna, look at the bright side, kinda person, today would have been the last day for that little resolution, but I am Pollyanna, and I think by May she will be able to run 6.25 miles in 60 minutes, even if it kills her.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Firemen Butterflies and New Years Resolutions
“Firemen know the precarious line we walk between life and death. That is a lesson.”
I went to Brian Kopp’s funeral yesterday. He was a fireman who died trying to save a friend in an avalanche. I know his wife. His kids go to our school. This is just one of the things said yesterday which made an impression on me, that I want to keep.
Wouldn’t it be great if we could just keep that in mind, ALL THE TIME? The line is thin. We walk it everyday. One-day, things seem just as they have always been, and the next they are completely changed forever. My heart goes out to the family. I feel I know a lot of what they will go through over the next couple of years. Not as a wife, but as a close supporter.
The New Year is upon us. I’ve talked to many friends and family about New Years resolutions. What’s it gonna be this year? Climb a mountain, lose 20 pounds, quit smoking or drinking? Lots of good intentions out there in the first few days. I refuse to even start my New Years Resolutions until later. Why hurry?
Really, my goals are pretty much the same as in the past. I would like to become published. I want to write more, appreciate life more, have more fun. The new one’s this year are few, but BIG! I want to get a tattoo. I have it all picked out and I’m ready to go! My sister and I are getting matching tattoos, only in different places and different colors. Basically the same, we’re getting Butterflies. There is a great story behind this. I think I’ll digress to share…
When we were kids, I was standing outside of our 1950’s brick, ranch style mansion, by myself. A butterfly flew into the yard. I watched it for a while and then I lifted my hand up and the butterfly landed on my hand. I went inside yelling that a butterfly landed on my hand and my sister being... you know, older and wiser, yelled at me to shut up! She insisted there wasn’t any way that had happened.
I drug her outside and stood waiting. The butterfly flew over and landed on my hand a second time. I smiled smugly and went inside the house. From the curtains I could see her trying tirelessly to get a butterfly to land on her hand also. But alas, that was not to be!
20 years later, I was telling that story to someone and Lisa started shouting at me like a crazy banshee. She claims the butterfly landed on her hand in the first place not mine. Well, let me tell you, she’s crazy! She likes to steal my thoughts and my memories and claim they are her own. I know it’s not entirely her fault, being so close in age, some things seem to overlap. Besides that, she clearly has a screw loose.
Back to my goals for the year…
I want to run the Boulder Boulder, this one came from a friend, who encouraged me to join her. She runs it every year. I would love to do this! I would love to be committed enough to run it in under 60 minutes. That’s my friend’s goal so I have adopted it. A little lofty for my first year, but I think I can do it.
Besides that I just want to appreciate my friends and family more. Whenever a tragedy strikes I always have the same thoughts, “I wonder what was the last thing she said to him. What did he say to her? What will the kids remember as the last time with their dad.”
It makes such an impression on me, like the last few seconds are more important somehow than the millions and trillions of seconds before. I know that’s not how it works. I just hope when I die, or someone really close to me goes, my last encounter with the people I’ve loved is a great one. I hope I wasn’t bitchy, or condescending, or rude. I hope I was gracious, loving and understanding.
Let’s face it sometimes I am bitchy, condescending and rude. The only way to increase my chances in those last moments, is to try and become a calmer, better person. That’s made it to the list for 2009 too.
One last thing that fits in here perfectly, the fireman buddy that was eulogizing Brian said, even when Brian ruffled some feathers, if he was condescending or didn’t say things the way he would have wanted to, he always went back afterwards and tried to fix it. He apologized and in certain times admitted he was wrong. I think that’s a big lesson too! We aren’t perfect people, we all make mistakes, what a better place it would be if we learned to make up for the things we do wrong.
One LAST THING… My heart also goes out to John Travolta for losing his son. My aunt spent time with him on the set of Wild Hogs and says he is an incredible person, very loving and sincere. I imagine there can’t be anything worse than losing a child, I feel very sorry for him and his wife.
I went to Brian Kopp’s funeral yesterday. He was a fireman who died trying to save a friend in an avalanche. I know his wife. His kids go to our school. This is just one of the things said yesterday which made an impression on me, that I want to keep.
Wouldn’t it be great if we could just keep that in mind, ALL THE TIME? The line is thin. We walk it everyday. One-day, things seem just as they have always been, and the next they are completely changed forever. My heart goes out to the family. I feel I know a lot of what they will go through over the next couple of years. Not as a wife, but as a close supporter.
The New Year is upon us. I’ve talked to many friends and family about New Years resolutions. What’s it gonna be this year? Climb a mountain, lose 20 pounds, quit smoking or drinking? Lots of good intentions out there in the first few days. I refuse to even start my New Years Resolutions until later. Why hurry?
Really, my goals are pretty much the same as in the past. I would like to become published. I want to write more, appreciate life more, have more fun. The new one’s this year are few, but BIG! I want to get a tattoo. I have it all picked out and I’m ready to go! My sister and I are getting matching tattoos, only in different places and different colors. Basically the same, we’re getting Butterflies. There is a great story behind this. I think I’ll digress to share…
When we were kids, I was standing outside of our 1950’s brick, ranch style mansion, by myself. A butterfly flew into the yard. I watched it for a while and then I lifted my hand up and the butterfly landed on my hand. I went inside yelling that a butterfly landed on my hand and my sister being... you know, older and wiser, yelled at me to shut up! She insisted there wasn’t any way that had happened.
I drug her outside and stood waiting. The butterfly flew over and landed on my hand a second time. I smiled smugly and went inside the house. From the curtains I could see her trying tirelessly to get a butterfly to land on her hand also. But alas, that was not to be!
20 years later, I was telling that story to someone and Lisa started shouting at me like a crazy banshee. She claims the butterfly landed on her hand in the first place not mine. Well, let me tell you, she’s crazy! She likes to steal my thoughts and my memories and claim they are her own. I know it’s not entirely her fault, being so close in age, some things seem to overlap. Besides that, she clearly has a screw loose.
Back to my goals for the year…
I want to run the Boulder Boulder, this one came from a friend, who encouraged me to join her. She runs it every year. I would love to do this! I would love to be committed enough to run it in under 60 minutes. That’s my friend’s goal so I have adopted it. A little lofty for my first year, but I think I can do it.
Besides that I just want to appreciate my friends and family more. Whenever a tragedy strikes I always have the same thoughts, “I wonder what was the last thing she said to him. What did he say to her? What will the kids remember as the last time with their dad.”
It makes such an impression on me, like the last few seconds are more important somehow than the millions and trillions of seconds before. I know that’s not how it works. I just hope when I die, or someone really close to me goes, my last encounter with the people I’ve loved is a great one. I hope I wasn’t bitchy, or condescending, or rude. I hope I was gracious, loving and understanding.
Let’s face it sometimes I am bitchy, condescending and rude. The only way to increase my chances in those last moments, is to try and become a calmer, better person. That’s made it to the list for 2009 too.
One last thing that fits in here perfectly, the fireman buddy that was eulogizing Brian said, even when Brian ruffled some feathers, if he was condescending or didn’t say things the way he would have wanted to, he always went back afterwards and tried to fix it. He apologized and in certain times admitted he was wrong. I think that’s a big lesson too! We aren’t perfect people, we all make mistakes, what a better place it would be if we learned to make up for the things we do wrong.
One LAST THING… My heart also goes out to John Travolta for losing his son. My aunt spent time with him on the set of Wild Hogs and says he is an incredible person, very loving and sincere. I imagine there can’t be anything worse than losing a child, I feel very sorry for him and his wife.
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