We've always thought we have the best driveway ever for sledding. It heads downhill from the street and goes into the grass for about 3feet before hitting a line of trees. The kids have sled down this hill hundreds of times. This last Sunday, the kids bundled up and headed out. I stood at the kitchen window watching them for a couple of minutes, making myself a cup of hot tea. When my tea was done, I headed up to the loft to do some writing. I barely made it up the stairs before my son hit the backdoor screaming. My 7 year old daughter hit the 6inch retaining wall to the left of the driveway.
I ran down the stairs to find my bleeding daughter on all fours in the garage. She didn't want to come in the house because she was bleeding so bad. I grabbed a sweatshirt off the floor and put it on her head and got her into the bathroom. My husband and I took one look at the giant gash on her forehead and knew she needed stitches. I honestly haven't ever seen anything so bad.
A strange calm took over me. I knew we needed to move to the next step. I called my BFF's husband who is our doctor. He told me to bring her over. I knew as long as I got her over to his house, we'd be okay. He would take care of the rest. I loaded us up in the car. Husband in the backseat applying pressure. My son, completely freaked out, he knew she was going to hit the wall and he yelled her name. She looked up just in time to catch the edge right between the eyes. He thought it was somehow his fault.
When we got to my friends house the Doctor took over. He drove us to his office. I was probably the most scared in the car. My daughter started vomiting and saying she couldn't breath. She was also having a hard time keeping her eyes open, as if she'd just fall asleep. I was sure she had a concussion and we'd be heading for the emergency room. My Doctor stayed calm and talked to my baby calmly telling her how to breath until she got control again. At the office he checked her out thoroughly and told me it probably wasn't a concussion it was just the adrenalin.
He then put somewhere around 25 stitches in her head, but not before he showed me her skull and the artery she had just missed severing. Looking at my child's skull through a gaping wound in her head is not something I ever want to do again, but even through that part I remained calm. I knew we had done our best to take care of her. Somehow a mother's strength takes over in times like these. She needed us to take care of her and we did whatever it took to make sure she'd be okay. There simply wasn't any time or need to lose it, even though I may have wanted to.
This leads me to the second part of this post. I got the call for a second interview on the job I talked about last week. I have done a lot of soul searching this week, and talked to a lot of my friends about the situation. I've talked to both working mothers and stay home moms. I know I'd be great at this job. It's selling advertising which is something I've done successfully in the past. I think the company is a sound one, and their publication is something I can see value in.
The question I have to ask myself is whether I really want a job. My kids are still so young and after this weekend, I know very clearly they still need me. One of my friends, who I was soliciting advice from said, she wants to be around her kids as long as they want her to be around. This really stuck with me. It won't last forever and that's something I have to face as a mother. Someday, they won't want me to be in their daily lives. If we are doing our jobs properly, not only will they become successful and productive, but they'll want to be independent of us. But what does that mean for me?
I'm going to the second interview. I want to know more about the position and the company. I know they are hoping to hire someone full time for base plus a commission. I asked on the phone if they were willing to consider a commission only position with more flexibility on the hours. I'm not sure where they stand on that possibility, but I'm willing to take it as far as I can.
I am one of the lucky one's and I'm very aware of that. I don't have to get a job. DH goes to work everyday, traveling away from his family way more than he wants to, just so I can stay home with the kids. I know we could always use more money. Retirement would come a lot quicker for DH if I contributed financially, and I know I want to do that for him, but after this weekend I know, I won't take a full time position yet. I want to be around my kids as long as they want me.
I am so lucky to have had the last ten years with them. They are turning into incredible people, who I truly enjoy being around. I know if I continue my search and keep my mind open and think creatively, I will find the perfect part time position. That way I can contribute more to the husband who deserves a break, without taking anything away from my kids who actually still want me around.
Showing posts with label About Me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label About Me. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
Job Posting: Manager of Magical Creatures
When I decided to stay home with my kids it was a mutual decision. Actually, DH asked me to stay home when Nick was born. He asked me to give it 6 months. I never thought I'd make it. I loved working. I found my personality was a perfect fit for sales and my last job was a real joy. My boss actually offered me a promotion to sales manager when I was 9 months pregnant. He was hoping I would come back.
I didn't, and 6 months has turned into 10 years. It went by in the blink of an eye. I would be lying if I said every single moment was met with joy and wonderment. Some moments were REALLY boring. Lots of moments tested every ounce of my patience. Housework is so unfulfilling. Each task is something that will have to be redone in a very short time, with young kids in the house it's a very, VERY short time.
But the times that are fulfilling- when they start to walk, or chase the dog around the island with their push toy laughing like a lunatic. When they call your name or in Nick's case say "tree"- his first word other than mama and dada. When they ask you a million times in one day to "uppie me"- Melanie- when they fall asleep in your lap, or when they are sick and only you can wipe their sore, snotty noses. Those times make it so worthwhile. More worthwhile than ANYthing I could have been doing the last ten years.
I think we have been happy. I know my role is under appreciated. The kids don't know what it's like to have to go to daycare everyday and when we pass by the Kindercare building they think it looks like a lot of fun.
My DH caught me mopping the floor recently and said to me, "I didn't know you did that." I responded in my normally snarky way with, "Who did you think did it, the f%&king fairies?" I'm still not sure who he thought had been doing it for the last 10 years, but maybe if I'd made it clear it was me he would have appreciated my role more.
I know many women in my position who have felt the same way. It's difficult for men to appreciate what we do around the house. They think the kids raise themselves and that magical creatures pick their underwear off the floor and make sure it somehow ends up clean and back in their drawers. But I know what I've done for all three of them, the last ten years, has made a difference in who they will become as adults. Especially, DH.
We are at a crossroads... I have an interview, on Thursday, for a job I know I would be good at. I know bringing in an income will help me to feel more valuable. My kids won't be kids forever, and I have to keep my skills up so I can do something when they no longer need me. I remember the feeling of having other people validate your work. It feels great. Not to mention, actually receiving a paycheck for your trouble.
But I don't just want to get a job. This feels like an opportunity. An opportunity to reinvent myself. I know I can do anything I want to, and I'm not in the position where I have to take a job if it doesn't feel like the right fit. I want to do something I'm good at, something that matters to me. I want to wake up feeling excited to go to work, so it's not so hard to leave the kids.
I am a different person than I was 10 years ago. My priorities are different. I'm not sure I'm as motivated by money as I was in my 20's. Now, I'm more motivated by a sense of accomplishment. I think I'm more focused, probably more reliable, and definitely more confident. Heck, who wouldn't want to hire me? I can motivate fairies to mop floors and I'm an expert at managing magical creatures. I think I'll go add those things to my resume.
I didn't, and 6 months has turned into 10 years. It went by in the blink of an eye. I would be lying if I said every single moment was met with joy and wonderment. Some moments were REALLY boring. Lots of moments tested every ounce of my patience. Housework is so unfulfilling. Each task is something that will have to be redone in a very short time, with young kids in the house it's a very, VERY short time.
But the times that are fulfilling- when they start to walk, or chase the dog around the island with their push toy laughing like a lunatic. When they call your name or in Nick's case say "tree"- his first word other than mama and dada. When they ask you a million times in one day to "uppie me"- Melanie- when they fall asleep in your lap, or when they are sick and only you can wipe their sore, snotty noses. Those times make it so worthwhile. More worthwhile than ANYthing I could have been doing the last ten years.
I think we have been happy. I know my role is under appreciated. The kids don't know what it's like to have to go to daycare everyday and when we pass by the Kindercare building they think it looks like a lot of fun.
My DH caught me mopping the floor recently and said to me, "I didn't know you did that." I responded in my normally snarky way with, "Who did you think did it, the f%&king fairies?" I'm still not sure who he thought had been doing it for the last 10 years, but maybe if I'd made it clear it was me he would have appreciated my role more.
I know many women in my position who have felt the same way. It's difficult for men to appreciate what we do around the house. They think the kids raise themselves and that magical creatures pick their underwear off the floor and make sure it somehow ends up clean and back in their drawers. But I know what I've done for all three of them, the last ten years, has made a difference in who they will become as adults. Especially, DH.
We are at a crossroads... I have an interview, on Thursday, for a job I know I would be good at. I know bringing in an income will help me to feel more valuable. My kids won't be kids forever, and I have to keep my skills up so I can do something when they no longer need me. I remember the feeling of having other people validate your work. It feels great. Not to mention, actually receiving a paycheck for your trouble.
But I don't just want to get a job. This feels like an opportunity. An opportunity to reinvent myself. I know I can do anything I want to, and I'm not in the position where I have to take a job if it doesn't feel like the right fit. I want to do something I'm good at, something that matters to me. I want to wake up feeling excited to go to work, so it's not so hard to leave the kids.
I am a different person than I was 10 years ago. My priorities are different. I'm not sure I'm as motivated by money as I was in my 20's. Now, I'm more motivated by a sense of accomplishment. I think I'm more focused, probably more reliable, and definitely more confident. Heck, who wouldn't want to hire me? I can motivate fairies to mop floors and I'm an expert at managing magical creatures. I think I'll go add those things to my resume.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Till Death Do Us Part...
Last night I went to the annual Larkspur Mother's Group Christmas party. While the party was a huge success and a TON of fun, I found myself in an awkward situation.
We are at that age among our friends where divorce happens. I'm pretty sure the national average is still somewhere over 50%, so it's unavoidable that some of your friends are going to go through it. I have a couple of friends who have been recently divorced and some who are on the verge.
At the party last night, one of the gals who is on the verge began questioning me about my marriage. I found myself, oddly, defending my relationship. I have been trying to understand where she is coming from, where she is at in her life and what she feels is necessary for her to be a happy, whole person.
I honestly don't feel like I judge my friends when they decide to get divorced. No one can really know another person's situation. I feel very strongly, in all areas of life, that it's one's own business how you handle the tough choices. I have enough to worry about with the things that will actually affect my own life. No time to concern myself with other peoples situations. Not that I don't care! I want my friends to be happy, I just don't feel just in having an opinion when it comes to other peoples relationships.
Anyway, when I found myself in the hot seat, I don't think I was very good at conveying my viewpoint. I was caught off guard, and if for no other reason, I'd like to try again for my husband who deserves to know how I feel.
I by NO means have the perfect relationship. I have shed my share of tears over my husband. He has hurt my feelings, he is sometimes callous, and I definitely wish he were more outgoing. But...
I value my marriage and family. I say things sometimes like, "I think it's important to be married to someone who will take care of you when you're sick." Another friend last night said she could just hire a nurse. That's true but I didn't mean that's the ONLY reason!
I value the fact that I have someone who takes care of me because he loves me and wants the best for me. I know without a doubt, he would take a bullet for me, or beat down a nurse in a hospital to get me the best care. He would sacrifice our house and all of our possessions to make sure the kids or I are always taken care of.
I value the fact that he keeps a job he doesn't really love, traveling away from us and his home, to make sure I can stay home and take care of our kids. I can volunteer in their classes and pick them up from the bus, and be there for EVERY single thing they need because he makes this sacrifice.
I value the fact that I don't have to know ANYTHING about the bills. I don't enjoy that part of reality and even though he really wishes I would be more involved, he understands and takes care of all of it.
I value Wade's friendship. He is the closest person to me and in any situation I know if I need him, he has my back. I can tell him ANYTHING and even when he thinks I'm wrong he still at least tries to see my side of it.
I know what it's like to have a day so bad, you're not sure you will survive it. I value the fact that I have Wade to hold my hand and stand by my side and to lift me up off the kitchen floor when I don't think I can get up by myself.
I love, adore and am SERIOUSLY attracted to my husband! I value that!!! He thinks I am beautiful even when I've gained a few pounds. He's never said anything to me about how he wished I looked differently. He has never noticed my scars, paid any attention to my stretch marks, or remarked about my gray hair or wrinkles. If he has noticed ANY of those things, I surely don't know it.
I think marriage is hard. I think some days it's really REALLY hard, but more often than not I am truly happy. I know we are giving our kids stability and love. They see us fight sometimes, but they also see us make up. They see us kiss and love each other, and they see us laugh together. I value that because I don't come from that kind of a childhood.
I know how short life can be - sometimes shockingly short. I don't want to spend it with ANYONE other than Wade. He is my rock and the right person to balance out my weaknesses. I love you Wade. Thank you for everything.
We are at that age among our friends where divorce happens. I'm pretty sure the national average is still somewhere over 50%, so it's unavoidable that some of your friends are going to go through it. I have a couple of friends who have been recently divorced and some who are on the verge.
At the party last night, one of the gals who is on the verge began questioning me about my marriage. I found myself, oddly, defending my relationship. I have been trying to understand where she is coming from, where she is at in her life and what she feels is necessary for her to be a happy, whole person.
I honestly don't feel like I judge my friends when they decide to get divorced. No one can really know another person's situation. I feel very strongly, in all areas of life, that it's one's own business how you handle the tough choices. I have enough to worry about with the things that will actually affect my own life. No time to concern myself with other peoples situations. Not that I don't care! I want my friends to be happy, I just don't feel just in having an opinion when it comes to other peoples relationships.
Anyway, when I found myself in the hot seat, I don't think I was very good at conveying my viewpoint. I was caught off guard, and if for no other reason, I'd like to try again for my husband who deserves to know how I feel.
I by NO means have the perfect relationship. I have shed my share of tears over my husband. He has hurt my feelings, he is sometimes callous, and I definitely wish he were more outgoing. But...
I value my marriage and family. I say things sometimes like, "I think it's important to be married to someone who will take care of you when you're sick." Another friend last night said she could just hire a nurse. That's true but I didn't mean that's the ONLY reason!
I value the fact that I have someone who takes care of me because he loves me and wants the best for me. I know without a doubt, he would take a bullet for me, or beat down a nurse in a hospital to get me the best care. He would sacrifice our house and all of our possessions to make sure the kids or I are always taken care of.
I value the fact that he keeps a job he doesn't really love, traveling away from us and his home, to make sure I can stay home and take care of our kids. I can volunteer in their classes and pick them up from the bus, and be there for EVERY single thing they need because he makes this sacrifice.
I value the fact that I don't have to know ANYTHING about the bills. I don't enjoy that part of reality and even though he really wishes I would be more involved, he understands and takes care of all of it.
I value Wade's friendship. He is the closest person to me and in any situation I know if I need him, he has my back. I can tell him ANYTHING and even when he thinks I'm wrong he still at least tries to see my side of it.
I know what it's like to have a day so bad, you're not sure you will survive it. I value the fact that I have Wade to hold my hand and stand by my side and to lift me up off the kitchen floor when I don't think I can get up by myself.
I love, adore and am SERIOUSLY attracted to my husband! I value that!!! He thinks I am beautiful even when I've gained a few pounds. He's never said anything to me about how he wished I looked differently. He has never noticed my scars, paid any attention to my stretch marks, or remarked about my gray hair or wrinkles. If he has noticed ANY of those things, I surely don't know it.
I think marriage is hard. I think some days it's really REALLY hard, but more often than not I am truly happy. I know we are giving our kids stability and love. They see us fight sometimes, but they also see us make up. They see us kiss and love each other, and they see us laugh together. I value that because I don't come from that kind of a childhood.
I know how short life can be - sometimes shockingly short. I don't want to spend it with ANYONE other than Wade. He is my rock and the right person to balance out my weaknesses. I love you Wade. Thank you for everything.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Break a Leg
I haven't been writing much, we've been busy. First it was the Swine Flu, then they had fall break and then last week they were off for three days because of snow. I've played a TON of board games, made homemade play dough, painted fingernails, did arts and crafts, watched movies I've already seen a dozen times, went sledding and to the arcade, and baked everything I know how to bake. This week they finally went back to school, but they have tomorrow off for a teacher day. BLAGHHH!!
In between my job as child entertainer and short order cook, I've had a few other things going on. On July 4th I ran the Four on the Fourth in Palmer Lake, with some friends of mine. (I realize that was four months ago but there is a reason I'm starting that far back, hang in there...)
There was one guy with us who was a complete bully! He teased me and taunted me and bet me he would beat me. We'll call this man Joe...
I am sort of competitive, so when I lost sight of Joe within the first ten minutes of the run, I knew it would take all of my strength and determination to catch up to him. At some point in the race I hurt my leg. I felt it... it hurt bad... I kept running. I am blaming the fact that I kept running on Joe. My DH is thrilled with this because it means I'm not blaming it on him.
Anyway, four months later and my leg still hurts. I went out for a run with my kids during our three week hiatus from school. It was a VERY slow run, but my leg still hurt afterward. I am fed up with this. My darling friend and doctor told me it was basically a bruised bone and could take up to nine months to heal. I DON'T LIKE THIS ANSWER. I made an appointment with an Orthopedic Surgeon.
Smarty Pants asked what I expected out of this appointment. I told her I wanted the NFL option. If I were in the NFL what would you tell me. She answered, "They'd tell you it's time to retire."
We had to bench her for that comment. She could have at least said I needed a Medical Marijuana card.
The doctors appointment was today. I feel sort of silly going. I can walk just fine. It doesn't hurt at all unless I am running or jumping on it. The obvious answer is to stop running and jumping, but I've done that for the past four months. Now, I am depressed and gaining weight. THIS WILL NOT DO.
I walked into the doctors office in a fabulous mood. I was going to find out what was really wrong and figure out the fastest way to being back in my Asics. I bounced up to the receptionists desk, filled out the paperwork and skipped to the waiting area to sit down.
When I sat down I started to look around. The others in the room were NOT as skippy or happy as I was. They looked beat up! Two were in wheelchairs, two were on crutches and two small children had casts on their arms.
The lady sitting next to me did not have a cast on but was on crutches and had a terrible look of pain and regret across her unhappy little face. She looked like she was in SO much pain I wanted to offer her a bullet to bite on.
I began rummaging through my purse for something to offer her, but all I could find was Midol and some gum. I was going to offer them to her just as the nurse called her name. She struggled to get up balancing her crutches with her x-rays and her purse until the nurse finally came over to help her.
"Do you need some pain medication?" the nurse asked.
"No, I'm already on some," she answered. THIS look was medicated?? I'd hate to see her when it wears off!
Three other people left the waiting room before me, all with the assistance of a loved one or the nurse to push their wheelchair or help them maneuver the crutches. Other people came in while I was waiting too, all looking like they had been hit by a bus! One lady arrived in a wheelchair AND on oxygen! Her bone hurt so bad she couldn't even breathe!
When the doctor came out and called my name I remained in my seat for a second. I felt the panic coming over me. I knew as soon as I stood up everyone would judge me, "What the hell is she doing here? She's not even hurt!" I thought about faking a limp as I walked to meet him, but I couldn't even remember which leg I had hurt. What if I limped on the wrong leg?
I made it through the walk of shame and he led me back to the office. It turned out he was really nice. He was a runner and could understand my frustration. He marked my leg with a giant X where I said it hurt and sent me back for an x-ray. When he came back into the room he told me the x-ray hadn't shown anything.
"I'd like to send you for an MRI," he said.
Okay. I mean what am I going to say at this point. Never mind. Just being here has made me feel SO much better!
On the way out of the office the doctor was telling me about a patient he had seen earlier. He had broken his collar bone and it was actually sticking out of his back! "First time I've ever seen that," he said.
I felt like a complete idiot! That guy obviously needed to go to the doctor.
"Wow! Yep... well... thanks." I stammered.
Then just as I was about to walk away he asked, "So, how fast do you run?"
I frowned thinking about my answer.
"Not as fast as Joe."
In between my job as child entertainer and short order cook, I've had a few other things going on. On July 4th I ran the Four on the Fourth in Palmer Lake, with some friends of mine. (I realize that was four months ago but there is a reason I'm starting that far back, hang in there...)
There was one guy with us who was a complete bully! He teased me and taunted me and bet me he would beat me. We'll call this man Joe...
I am sort of competitive, so when I lost sight of Joe within the first ten minutes of the run, I knew it would take all of my strength and determination to catch up to him. At some point in the race I hurt my leg. I felt it... it hurt bad... I kept running. I am blaming the fact that I kept running on Joe. My DH is thrilled with this because it means I'm not blaming it on him.
Anyway, four months later and my leg still hurts. I went out for a run with my kids during our three week hiatus from school. It was a VERY slow run, but my leg still hurt afterward. I am fed up with this. My darling friend and doctor told me it was basically a bruised bone and could take up to nine months to heal. I DON'T LIKE THIS ANSWER. I made an appointment with an Orthopedic Surgeon.
Smarty Pants asked what I expected out of this appointment. I told her I wanted the NFL option. If I were in the NFL what would you tell me. She answered, "They'd tell you it's time to retire."
We had to bench her for that comment. She could have at least said I needed a Medical Marijuana card.
The doctors appointment was today. I feel sort of silly going. I can walk just fine. It doesn't hurt at all unless I am running or jumping on it. The obvious answer is to stop running and jumping, but I've done that for the past four months. Now, I am depressed and gaining weight. THIS WILL NOT DO.
I walked into the doctors office in a fabulous mood. I was going to find out what was really wrong and figure out the fastest way to being back in my Asics. I bounced up to the receptionists desk, filled out the paperwork and skipped to the waiting area to sit down.
When I sat down I started to look around. The others in the room were NOT as skippy or happy as I was. They looked beat up! Two were in wheelchairs, two were on crutches and two small children had casts on their arms.
The lady sitting next to me did not have a cast on but was on crutches and had a terrible look of pain and regret across her unhappy little face. She looked like she was in SO much pain I wanted to offer her a bullet to bite on.
I began rummaging through my purse for something to offer her, but all I could find was Midol and some gum. I was going to offer them to her just as the nurse called her name. She struggled to get up balancing her crutches with her x-rays and her purse until the nurse finally came over to help her.
"Do you need some pain medication?" the nurse asked.
"No, I'm already on some," she answered. THIS look was medicated?? I'd hate to see her when it wears off!
Three other people left the waiting room before me, all with the assistance of a loved one or the nurse to push their wheelchair or help them maneuver the crutches. Other people came in while I was waiting too, all looking like they had been hit by a bus! One lady arrived in a wheelchair AND on oxygen! Her bone hurt so bad she couldn't even breathe!
When the doctor came out and called my name I remained in my seat for a second. I felt the panic coming over me. I knew as soon as I stood up everyone would judge me, "What the hell is she doing here? She's not even hurt!" I thought about faking a limp as I walked to meet him, but I couldn't even remember which leg I had hurt. What if I limped on the wrong leg?
I made it through the walk of shame and he led me back to the office. It turned out he was really nice. He was a runner and could understand my frustration. He marked my leg with a giant X where I said it hurt and sent me back for an x-ray. When he came back into the room he told me the x-ray hadn't shown anything.
"I'd like to send you for an MRI," he said.
Okay. I mean what am I going to say at this point. Never mind. Just being here has made me feel SO much better!
On the way out of the office the doctor was telling me about a patient he had seen earlier. He had broken his collar bone and it was actually sticking out of his back! "First time I've ever seen that," he said.
I felt like a complete idiot! That guy obviously needed to go to the doctor.
"Wow! Yep... well... thanks." I stammered.
Then just as I was about to walk away he asked, "So, how fast do you run?"
I frowned thinking about my answer.
"Not as fast as Joe."
Monday, July 27, 2009
Thanks for the Memories!
Reunion’s over, plus a day of rest which was much needed. WOW! It was way more than I imagined. Smarty Pants and my sister were the BEST back up a girl could ever ask for. Friday night we had SO much fun. When we arrived at the bar it was almost like taking a walk through my memory. The place was crowded and everywhere I looked was someone I knew a long time ago. My girls settled themselves at the bar and not only did they have their own fun all night long, but they gave me moral support and a drink whenever I needed one!
There are so many stories about these people. I’m stymied about what to write.
The girl who lived across the street from us was there. We played every game possible with her. We rode bikes together, and made mud cakes, and suntanned on her roof wearing baby oil. She has two babies of her own now and I hope they get to live across the street from someone like her.
My best friend from Kindergarten through 6th grade was there. She was the girl I first chased boys with and who I ALWAYS wanted to spend the night. We had secret clubs (that everyone knew about) and secret spiral notebooks which we passed around to all our friends with questions on every page like “Who do you like? And Who would you kiss?” She was my first friend that moved away. I have missed her for 15 years and we have finally just reconnected.
The guys that tried to teach me how to use a computer in third grade were there. That was funny! It was back when everything you did was a “code”. I don’t remember actually learning anything, but they tried! They are still my friends and I love them, I ended up spending most of the evening with them. Including breakfast at 2am. (yes, I stayed out REALLY late in Denver again!) We weren’t super close in high school, but now they are the friends I would most like to spend more time with.
And the first guy to ever break my heart was there. We were in 7th grade, thirteen years old! My friend Marcia liked him and gave me the job of finding out if he liked her. Turns out, he liked me! That was one of the first friends I lost because of a boy. We “went out” for a couple of months. I actually have no idea how long. Sadly, it made a much bigger impression in my memory.
I was a cheerleader and we were at a track meet. One of my friends from Elementary school went to a different Jr. High and she was there. I was so excited for her to meet my boyfriend, but when he showed up he broke up with me. Devastated doesn’t begin to describe it! It’s so funny to me now. Thirteen years old and I thought I could die over this boy who I passed notes to and kissed in the hallway. He’s earned himself a place in my memory only reserved for “the firsts”.
He grew up to be a great guy. He’s married with two little boys. I teased him a lot that night, I think he took it well.
There were plenty of others. The guy who set my house on fire. The two guys who flew through the screen door on their bikes. The girls who were my best friends with way too many memories to even write about. The friends I learned to drive with. The friend whose car I hit the day after I got my license. These people didn’t necessarily know the “best me”, because that’s me now, but they were my firsts and I loved seeing them all!
Saturday, was much more reserved. One bit of advice for those of you who haven’t seen your reunion yet, don’t take your spouse. He didn’t have any fun and was ready to leave way before I was. He got his way, and we snuck out without saying goodbye to anyone. I regret leaving, but then again, he’s the guy who loves me now for who I turned out to be. I just wish he could have appreciated meeting the people who helped me become who I am now.
To the Thornton High class of ‘89! Thanks for the memories!! I hope we don't wait another 10 years to see each other again.
There are so many stories about these people. I’m stymied about what to write.
The girl who lived across the street from us was there. We played every game possible with her. We rode bikes together, and made mud cakes, and suntanned on her roof wearing baby oil. She has two babies of her own now and I hope they get to live across the street from someone like her.
My best friend from Kindergarten through 6th grade was there. She was the girl I first chased boys with and who I ALWAYS wanted to spend the night. We had secret clubs (that everyone knew about) and secret spiral notebooks which we passed around to all our friends with questions on every page like “Who do you like? And Who would you kiss?” She was my first friend that moved away. I have missed her for 15 years and we have finally just reconnected.
The guys that tried to teach me how to use a computer in third grade were there. That was funny! It was back when everything you did was a “code”. I don’t remember actually learning anything, but they tried! They are still my friends and I love them, I ended up spending most of the evening with them. Including breakfast at 2am. (yes, I stayed out REALLY late in Denver again!) We weren’t super close in high school, but now they are the friends I would most like to spend more time with.
And the first guy to ever break my heart was there. We were in 7th grade, thirteen years old! My friend Marcia liked him and gave me the job of finding out if he liked her. Turns out, he liked me! That was one of the first friends I lost because of a boy. We “went out” for a couple of months. I actually have no idea how long. Sadly, it made a much bigger impression in my memory.
I was a cheerleader and we were at a track meet. One of my friends from Elementary school went to a different Jr. High and she was there. I was so excited for her to meet my boyfriend, but when he showed up he broke up with me. Devastated doesn’t begin to describe it! It’s so funny to me now. Thirteen years old and I thought I could die over this boy who I passed notes to and kissed in the hallway. He’s earned himself a place in my memory only reserved for “the firsts”.
He grew up to be a great guy. He’s married with two little boys. I teased him a lot that night, I think he took it well.
There were plenty of others. The guy who set my house on fire. The two guys who flew through the screen door on their bikes. The girls who were my best friends with way too many memories to even write about. The friends I learned to drive with. The friend whose car I hit the day after I got my license. These people didn’t necessarily know the “best me”, because that’s me now, but they were my firsts and I loved seeing them all!
Saturday, was much more reserved. One bit of advice for those of you who haven’t seen your reunion yet, don’t take your spouse. He didn’t have any fun and was ready to leave way before I was. He got his way, and we snuck out without saying goodbye to anyone. I regret leaving, but then again, he’s the guy who loves me now for who I turned out to be. I just wish he could have appreciated meeting the people who helped me become who I am now.
To the Thornton High class of ‘89! Thanks for the memories!! I hope we don't wait another 10 years to see each other again.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Most Likely to Bring Back up Friends to her Reunion
My 20 year high school reunion is coming up this weekend. I created a little checklist.
- Nice outfit and GREAT shoes CHECK
- Washed that Gray right out of my hair CHECK
- Speed dial to my therapist CHECK
- Laid ground work on Facebook CHECK
- Back up friends to offer support and encouragement CHECK
- Sister to hold my hand CHECK
How come boys don’t worry about their reunion the same way girls do? DH had his twenty a few years back (yep, he robbed the cradle with me!) and he just threw on something out of the closet last minute and went. I don’t think he even bought a new shirt. Not that I’ve been stressing over any of it, but it definitely requires some shopping! And a cut and color. And new shoes. It’s mostly about the shoes...
I am seriously taking my sister and Smarty Pants as backup for Friday night. I’m sorry but I don’t get out all that often and I need to have reassurance I’m going to have fun. After all, I haven’t seen any of these people since my 10! A night out in Denver, with a hotel room is just not something you squander without some serious consideration.
But really, I can’t wait to see my old girlfriends, we were really tight in high school. We called ourselves the PITS ~ Pam, Ingrid, Tiffany and Suz. I just found out Tiffany’s not going to make it this year. I’m sad about that, without her we’re just the PTS which sounds like some sort of disorder “If you think you may have PTS talk to your doctor immediately!”
I also found out my HS boyfriend’s not going. I dated the same guy all three years. Well, off and on, we broke up a lot. He didn’t come to the 10 and he’s not coming to the 20 either. It’s not that I really have any sort of need to reconnect. He’s a Facebook friend now, it just would have been nice to see him after all this time.
Back then I was Susie and was most known for the fact that I was, “The Most Popular girl’s… best friend”. You know the girl no one really notices because she’s standing right next to the most beautiful, friendly, fabulous girl… yep, that was me!
Right up until my senior year. Then I went out on a limb and auditioned for the senior play. The play was called “The Girl in the Mirror”, and I got the part as “The Girl”. After that, I got voted “Most Theatrical”. I know it’s not “Most Popular” or “Most likely to succeed”, but it’s a MOST something right!?
I wonder why we didn’t try harder to come up with better most likely’s…
Most likely to become a vagrant
Most likely to sleep with a college professor
Most likely to skip college for a career as a pole dancer
Most likely to get a felony conviction
Now that would have been fun to follow up on.
At our 10, our class president, my friend Pam (I seriously did hang out with the Important People!), had each of the “most whatever’s” stand up and tell everyone what they were doing now. I was in sales at the time, I mean how apropos. “Most theatrical” is now acting like you NEED to buy this very important whatchamacallit.
This year I hope I don’t have to stand up. What would I say now, “I was voted Most Theatrical, now I’m a stay home mom. I use my theater training daily to persuade my kids to brush their teeth and eat their vegetables. I’m also a writer, basically I make shit up, and no I don’t actually get paid for it yet.”
Hey! I actually like that title WAY better… Most Likely to Make Shit Up! Yep that’s me!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
You look so Familiar
I haven’t written anything in a while. After a criticism cut too close to me I lost some of the pleasure of it all. After reading The Wednesday Sisters by Meg Waite Clayton, I feel a little better. I am anxious to start again.
I enjoy and appreciate all the people who’ve told me they miss this blog. It’ll never be truly gone because it is beyond me to keep things, thoughts, ideas to myself. This part of my writing is a simple release. I do it to express a thought that’s important to me, or to explore an idea or situation that I found funny. It is not to be taken too seriously.
If you can’t read what I write with that thought in mind, I would prefer you didn’t read it at all.
SO! Here’s a recap of the last few months. We took a trip to Spain, which was fabulous, yes, I did find the Worlds Best Chocolate Cake and it was actually the BEST!
The kid’s school year ended with one finishing kindergarten and one finishing 2nd grade.
They are now on summer break and bored to tears. They ask me for a snack every five minutes and pick a fight with each other every ten.
We got a new rabbit that looks a lot like an Ewok. Her name is Gracie.
Much to my surprise, the man-eating dog got along fabulously with the dog-sitting-man during our trip to Spain.
Our old yellow lab is still holding on, although DH reminds me everyday he won’t make it much longer. Course, he’s been saying this for a few years now so I don’t really listen.
I allowed my hairdresser to add many, MANY more blond streaks to my hair in an attempt to jolt DH and get his undivided attention. I called and told him I’d gone blond. When he got home he said, “It’s not really blond.” That was the end of that conversation…
The best conversation I’ve had in a while was with my best friend’s FIL (Father In Law). They came over to my house for lunch while they were in town visiting. We were sitting in my living room chatting when he looked at me intently and said, “You look so familiar.”
Me: “I think I have a familiar face, people tell me that all the time.”
FIL: “Well I watch that show on HBO called the Bunny Ranch.”
Me: “Huh?”
FIL: “Did you ever work in Vegas?”
It took me about 30 seconds to realize he just asked me if I’d ever worked as a prostitute in Vegas. I smiled, as MIL stuttered, “NO! She looks like Jill Taylor.”
FIL: “Who the hell is Jill Taylor?”
MIL: “You remember Tim the Tool Man’s wife?”
This is the reason you don’t invite anyone else’s in-laws to your house… ever.
Other than that, it’s been pretty quiet around here. DH and I will be celebrating 10 years in Aug. I am also looking forward to both my kids being in school full time. DH will be working from home now, which leads to lots of fun phone conversations to the basement. I will be sure to keep you apprised.
I enjoy and appreciate all the people who’ve told me they miss this blog. It’ll never be truly gone because it is beyond me to keep things, thoughts, ideas to myself. This part of my writing is a simple release. I do it to express a thought that’s important to me, or to explore an idea or situation that I found funny. It is not to be taken too seriously.
If you can’t read what I write with that thought in mind, I would prefer you didn’t read it at all.
SO! Here’s a recap of the last few months. We took a trip to Spain, which was fabulous, yes, I did find the Worlds Best Chocolate Cake and it was actually the BEST!
The kid’s school year ended with one finishing kindergarten and one finishing 2nd grade.
They are now on summer break and bored to tears. They ask me for a snack every five minutes and pick a fight with each other every ten.
We got a new rabbit that looks a lot like an Ewok. Her name is Gracie.
Much to my surprise, the man-eating dog got along fabulously with the dog-sitting-man during our trip to Spain.
Our old yellow lab is still holding on, although DH reminds me everyday he won’t make it much longer. Course, he’s been saying this for a few years now so I don’t really listen.
I allowed my hairdresser to add many, MANY more blond streaks to my hair in an attempt to jolt DH and get his undivided attention. I called and told him I’d gone blond. When he got home he said, “It’s not really blond.” That was the end of that conversation…
The best conversation I’ve had in a while was with my best friend’s FIL (Father In Law). They came over to my house for lunch while they were in town visiting. We were sitting in my living room chatting when he looked at me intently and said, “You look so familiar.”
Me: “I think I have a familiar face, people tell me that all the time.”
FIL: “Well I watch that show on HBO called the Bunny Ranch.”
Me: “Huh?”
FIL: “Did you ever work in Vegas?”
It took me about 30 seconds to realize he just asked me if I’d ever worked as a prostitute in Vegas. I smiled, as MIL stuttered, “NO! She looks like Jill Taylor.”
FIL: “Who the hell is Jill Taylor?”
MIL: “You remember Tim the Tool Man’s wife?”
This is the reason you don’t invite anyone else’s in-laws to your house… ever.
Other than that, it’s been pretty quiet around here. DH and I will be celebrating 10 years in Aug. I am also looking forward to both my kids being in school full time. DH will be working from home now, which leads to lots of fun phone conversations to the basement. I will be sure to keep you apprised. Sunday, March 29, 2009
Miles and Miles of Lavender
Fabulous week… really FABULOUS, it’s was Spring Break for the kids so my sister and I took them all on a car trip to the Grand Canyon. 2360 miles round trip! First day, we went to Albuquerque, my dad lives there, and stayed two nights with our family.
Just so you know, if you stop at a weigh station on the side of the road, they really won’t weigh you…even if you explain to them you’ve been on a diet and working really hard to lose weight, they still won’t, regulations…you need to be a truck, blah blah blah. Then we left for Flagstaff, AZ.
When my sister and I do car trips it’s much better if there are no men present, especially men with a PLAN. Little boys don’t really count, we are raising them to be free thinkers and GO with the FLOW! Which is, by the way, what we named my phones GPS… FLOis.
We like to see the sights on the side of the road… two headed cow, we’re there… giant crater, OH YEAH!! Petrified National Forest, who wants to miss that?
FLOis was terribly entertaining as we ventured off course at every available opportunity.
FLOis- “Recalculating route… you are not on a marked road… make a u-turn at the next possible place.” Sorry FLOis, taking the unmarked path is ALWAYS the best way to see the world.
So, we saw the Grand Canyon, the meteor crater, the Petrified National Forest, and the Out of Africa Safari in the middle of NOWHERE, AZ! But the best place of all… Sedona, Az. The Metaphysical Capitol of the WORLD!
I have INCREDIBLE news!! I am NOT Autistic, nor do I have Asperger’s disease as my darling great Auntie diagnosed me after reading the March 18th Blog… Nope, no diseases or afflictions.
I AM A LAVENDER!!!
Sister and I had our Auras read. They take you into a little room and have you look into a camera. Then you place your left hand on a sensor pad and it takes your picture. Ten minutes later you have a 22 page Aura Chakra Report.
My main Aura Color, which reflects my personality type and traits is Lavender. Lavenders are imaginative, mystical, fantastical, soft, fragile, sensitive, often spacey and ethereal.
Lavenders dislike being confronted with reality. They are creative thinkers. They need creative and artistic expressions to recharge their batteries. They are unpredictable, spontaneous, need solitude and are not always practical. They only have a few close friends and need visionary people who can see the potential in their ideas.
Lavenders are fun to be around but can be somewhat scattered! They work the best in quiet environments and would be attracted to occupations such as storyteller, artist, writer, actor, dancer. Need I say more?? I am TOTALLY a lavender!
My chakras are all out of whack though… I have very low energy. I think this is two fold. One, I was on a 2000 mile driving trip with four kids… how much energy could I possibly have? And Dos, I haven’t recharged my battery with ANY type of artistic anything in a really long time.
My heart chakra, which corresponds to unconditional love, self-love and forgiveness is my smallest, weakest chakra. I’m not really surprised by this, lets just say I need to work on these areas.
I know the realists in this world (darling hubby) laugh at me when I talk about this stuff. All I can say is, they took a picture of me, and validated all of the feelings I have been having lately about myself. One of the sentences in the report says, "Some Lavenders may feel guilty or inadequate because of their unorthodox behavior." THERE WAS A FARMER, HAD A DOG AND BINGO WAS HIS NAME-O.
My Aura Chakra report tells anyone who wants to read it what to expect from me. It’s in my opinion DEAD ON! When I am running away from reality, sitting in my loft in imaginary worlds created by me, or seemingly drifting away from a conversation, there is a reason and it’s very simple…its who I am. Like it or not.
Just so you know, if you stop at a weigh station on the side of the road, they really won’t weigh you…even if you explain to them you’ve been on a diet and working really hard to lose weight, they still won’t, regulations…you need to be a truck, blah blah blah. Then we left for Flagstaff, AZ.When my sister and I do car trips it’s much better if there are no men present, especially men with a PLAN. Little boys don’t really count, we are raising them to be free thinkers and GO with the FLOW! Which is, by the way, what we named my phones GPS… FLOis.
We like to see the sights on the side of the road… two headed cow, we’re there… giant crater, OH YEAH!! Petrified National Forest, who wants to miss that?
FLOis was terribly entertaining as we ventured off course at every available opportunity.
FLOis- “Recalculating route… you are not on a marked road… make a u-turn at the next possible place.” Sorry FLOis, taking the unmarked path is ALWAYS the best way to see the world.
So, we saw the Grand Canyon, the meteor crater, the Petrified National Forest, and the Out of Africa Safari in the middle of NOWHERE, AZ! But the best place of all… Sedona, Az. The Metaphysical Capitol of the WORLD!
I have INCREDIBLE news!! I am NOT Autistic, nor do I have Asperger’s disease as my darling great Auntie diagnosed me after reading the March 18th Blog… Nope, no diseases or afflictions.
I AM A LAVENDER!!!
Sister and I had our Auras read. They take you into a little room and have you look into a camera. Then you place your left hand on a sensor pad and it takes your picture. Ten minutes later you have a 22 page Aura Chakra Report.
My main Aura Color, which reflects my personality type and traits is Lavender. Lavenders are imaginative, mystical, fantastical, soft, fragile, sensitive, often spacey and ethereal.
Lavenders dislike being confronted with reality. They are creative thinkers. They need creative and artistic expressions to recharge their batteries. They are unpredictable, spontaneous, need solitude and are not always practical. They only have a few close friends and need visionary people who can see the potential in their ideas.
Lavenders are fun to be around but can be somewhat scattered! They work the best in quiet environments and would be attracted to occupations such as storyteller, artist, writer, actor, dancer. Need I say more?? I am TOTALLY a lavender!
My chakras are all out of whack though… I have very low energy. I think this is two fold. One, I was on a 2000 mile driving trip with four kids… how much energy could I possibly have? And Dos, I haven’t recharged my battery with ANY type of artistic anything in a really long time.
My heart chakra, which corresponds to unconditional love, self-love and forgiveness is my smallest, weakest chakra. I’m not really surprised by this, lets just say I need to work on these areas.
I know the realists in this world (darling hubby) laugh at me when I talk about this stuff. All I can say is, they took a picture of me, and validated all of the feelings I have been having lately about myself. One of the sentences in the report says, "Some Lavenders may feel guilty or inadequate because of their unorthodox behavior." THERE WAS A FARMER, HAD A DOG AND BINGO WAS HIS NAME-O.
My Aura Chakra report tells anyone who wants to read it what to expect from me. It’s in my opinion DEAD ON! When I am running away from reality, sitting in my loft in imaginary worlds created by me, or seemingly drifting away from a conversation, there is a reason and it’s very simple…its who I am. Like it or not.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Oodles of Loodles!
So all pouty face poor me from yesterday aside, today was a fabulous day! Other than the fact that my little girl threw up in gym class... but that's a whole 'nother blog...
One of the things I do at my kid's school is set up assemblies. I am privileged to be able to pick which parts of their little brains to stimulate, or what experience to give them once a month, all year long! It's fabulous!!
There are four of us who help with this part of school we call Enrichment. Enriching their lives, giving them access to things they wouldn't normally get in the typical school day. So far this year we've had The Denver Zoo, The Denver Museum of Nature and Science, (who did an assembly on all the yucky things our bodies do!) The Fort Carson Singers for a Christmas performance, an incredible Veterans Day assembly, Irish Dance and TODAY??!!!
Mark Ludy! Children's author and illustrator. Here's his link, CLICK HERE, seriously... click it... you have to see it... go on! Mark has written these incredible books, like The Farmer and The Grump and his newest Jujo'. The stories themselves would be fascinating and interesting even without the illustrations, but the PICTURES?!! They are unbelievable!
Not only is Mark an author and illustrator, but he's a fantastic speaker as well. We started the morning off with a short talk to the teachers. Mark shared with us his motivational views on living with the thought of what's REALLY important in our daily lives. What are we giving back to the people around us, especially to the kids? When we die, what do we leave behind? What will people say we gave them?
He told us about his favorite teacher when he was a kid going to school at Lewis Palmer Elementary, how she gave him the love of a story. For the first time, he picked up a book and realized you could dive right in to the story and live a different reality as long as you had the book open. The book he first loved... Where the Red Fern Grows!
I connected so well with what he was saying, I remember all of my favorite books, Judy Blume, Beverly Cleary. I still love every opportunity to read myself into a new reality, pick up a new story... and it's something I've really wanted to give my kids.
But, as so many things, my oldest was not willing to take it from me. He needed his teacher, the MOST FABULOUS second grade teacher in the world, to give him the love of stories. Now my kid comes home nearly every week, so excited to tell me what new book Mr. S. is reading to him. His best days? ~the one's Mr. S reads for an extra long time!!
They just finished reading, "How to Eat Fried Worms," and when he came home yesterday, this is what I got,
"Mom, I really REALLY need (best friend's name goes here) to come over tonight."
"Why?" Boy looks down, sheepish grin crosses his face. I'm on to him! I know he's up to something.
"We made a bet."
"What kind of bet?"
"He bet me, he could eat 30 worms."
"Gross! Why would he do that?"
"Cuz if he does it, I have to pay him $100!"
"You don't even have $100."
"Yes, I do. I saved my allowance."
The funny thing here is, he really has saved $100. Normally, it's like pulling teeth for him to spend any of his own money. There's no way he can part with any of it. But apparently, for an eight year old boy, seeing your best friend ingest 30 worms, TOTALLY worth $100!!
I emailed Fabulous Teacher and told him this story and his reply was, "I told them not to eat any worms... I guess books really do inspire!"
Yes, they do. And more than that, teachers inspire and authors inspire, and hopefully in some subconscious way that 8 year old boys don't actually have to admit... parents inspire. I knew I would enjoy my day today. Nothing is more fun for me than to see little minds excited about new ideas... but I actually came away with even more than I had imagined. I came home remembering to focus on what's important, and to be mindful of what I am "giving" to my kids and all the other people I encounter.
Thank you, Mark Ludy for giving me such a GREAT day, and by the way... I'm scheduling a mental health day, to take a trip to Loodles... anyone want to come with me??
One of the things I do at my kid's school is set up assemblies. I am privileged to be able to pick which parts of their little brains to stimulate, or what experience to give them once a month, all year long! It's fabulous!!
There are four of us who help with this part of school we call Enrichment. Enriching their lives, giving them access to things they wouldn't normally get in the typical school day. So far this year we've had The Denver Zoo, The Denver Museum of Nature and Science, (who did an assembly on all the yucky things our bodies do!) The Fort Carson Singers for a Christmas performance, an incredible Veterans Day assembly, Irish Dance and TODAY??!!!
Mark Ludy! Children's author and illustrator. Here's his link, CLICK HERE, seriously... click it... you have to see it... go on! Mark has written these incredible books, like The Farmer and The Grump and his newest Jujo'. The stories themselves would be fascinating and interesting even without the illustrations, but the PICTURES?!! They are unbelievable!
Not only is Mark an author and illustrator, but he's a fantastic speaker as well. We started the morning off with a short talk to the teachers. Mark shared with us his motivational views on living with the thought of what's REALLY important in our daily lives. What are we giving back to the people around us, especially to the kids? When we die, what do we leave behind? What will people say we gave them?
He told us about his favorite teacher when he was a kid going to school at Lewis Palmer Elementary, how she gave him the love of a story. For the first time, he picked up a book and realized you could dive right in to the story and live a different reality as long as you had the book open. The book he first loved... Where the Red Fern Grows!
I connected so well with what he was saying, I remember all of my favorite books, Judy Blume, Beverly Cleary. I still love every opportunity to read myself into a new reality, pick up a new story... and it's something I've really wanted to give my kids.
But, as so many things, my oldest was not willing to take it from me. He needed his teacher, the MOST FABULOUS second grade teacher in the world, to give him the love of stories. Now my kid comes home nearly every week, so excited to tell me what new book Mr. S. is reading to him. His best days? ~the one's Mr. S reads for an extra long time!!
They just finished reading, "How to Eat Fried Worms," and when he came home yesterday, this is what I got,
"Mom, I really REALLY need (best friend's name goes here) to come over tonight."
"Why?" Boy looks down, sheepish grin crosses his face. I'm on to him! I know he's up to something.
"We made a bet."
"What kind of bet?"
"He bet me, he could eat 30 worms."
"Gross! Why would he do that?"
"Cuz if he does it, I have to pay him $100!"
"You don't even have $100."
"Yes, I do. I saved my allowance."
The funny thing here is, he really has saved $100. Normally, it's like pulling teeth for him to spend any of his own money. There's no way he can part with any of it. But apparently, for an eight year old boy, seeing your best friend ingest 30 worms, TOTALLY worth $100!!
I emailed Fabulous Teacher and told him this story and his reply was, "I told them not to eat any worms... I guess books really do inspire!"
Yes, they do. And more than that, teachers inspire and authors inspire, and hopefully in some subconscious way that 8 year old boys don't actually have to admit... parents inspire. I knew I would enjoy my day today. Nothing is more fun for me than to see little minds excited about new ideas... but I actually came away with even more than I had imagined. I came home remembering to focus on what's important, and to be mindful of what I am "giving" to my kids and all the other people I encounter.
Thank you, Mark Ludy for giving me such a GREAT day, and by the way... I'm scheduling a mental health day, to take a trip to Loodles... anyone want to come with me??
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Solitary Confined Cheerleader
Spring Break can not come too soon! I'm tired. Seriously, to the bone, tired. Tired of listening. Tired of talking. Tired of trying to make people happy. Tired of working things out. Tired of being positive. TIRED!!
I miss my alone in the loft writing with a bottle of wine by my side, ME. The girl who loses herself in a sentence for two hours until she sees the bus stopping in front of the house dropping off the kids. The girl who waits two hours when she really, really, REALLY, has to pee because she can't pull herself away from the click click click of her own typing. The girl who sits in the silence.
Writing is truly the part of me, I like the best. I miss all of it.
I haven't even tried to write any of the ongoing projects. I need to reread everything I've written before I can even begin, and by the time I'm done with reading, my time is up... I need to be able to dive in, head first, remember the stories, meet the characters again. I just don't have the time right now.
My son just finished his basketball season. It was eight weeks. I didn't even try to meet any of the other parents. I went to the games and cheered him on and then left. No time or desire to meet or care about anyone new. BIG SECRET -- I didn't even bring snacks, not once... nothing.
My little girl is starting soccer. The good news is, I already know all the parents. I know them, but do they know me?? Do they know, I'm not really listening when they talk about their vacations, about their jobs, their spouse trouble? I can't really help myself. My mind is too full of other things.
I actually find it odd when people can be involved in trivial conversations.
"So, how's the dog training coming?"
"OH, not so good. Benji peed on the carpet nine times yesterday!"
"You poor thing!"
"The vet thinks he may have a bladder infection."
I tuned out at Dog Training.
I often wonder, if my present personality were evaluated what the diagnosis would be, not ADD or ADHD, I'm not OCD (well, maybe a little). Honestly, I think other than down right RUDE, I might be considered somewhat Autistic. Autism by definition means: a developmental disorder marked by impaired social interactions, communication difficulties.
I have learned to cope. I can play the game. But really, I live too much in my own head. In my Happy Place. Somewhere, where I don't have to be social or gracious or polite, where I don't have to engage in idol chatter, somewhere deep in my imagination where no one cares what I say or do or expects anything from me.
Pretty shocking admission from a former Cheerleader, isn't it.
I miss my alone in the loft writing with a bottle of wine by my side, ME. The girl who loses herself in a sentence for two hours until she sees the bus stopping in front of the house dropping off the kids. The girl who waits two hours when she really, really, REALLY, has to pee because she can't pull herself away from the click click click of her own typing. The girl who sits in the silence.
Writing is truly the part of me, I like the best. I miss all of it.
I haven't even tried to write any of the ongoing projects. I need to reread everything I've written before I can even begin, and by the time I'm done with reading, my time is up... I need to be able to dive in, head first, remember the stories, meet the characters again. I just don't have the time right now.
My son just finished his basketball season. It was eight weeks. I didn't even try to meet any of the other parents. I went to the games and cheered him on and then left. No time or desire to meet or care about anyone new. BIG SECRET -- I didn't even bring snacks, not once... nothing.
My little girl is starting soccer. The good news is, I already know all the parents. I know them, but do they know me?? Do they know, I'm not really listening when they talk about their vacations, about their jobs, their spouse trouble? I can't really help myself. My mind is too full of other things.
I actually find it odd when people can be involved in trivial conversations.
"So, how's the dog training coming?"
"OH, not so good. Benji peed on the carpet nine times yesterday!"
"You poor thing!"
"The vet thinks he may have a bladder infection."
I tuned out at Dog Training.
I often wonder, if my present personality were evaluated what the diagnosis would be, not ADD or ADHD, I'm not OCD (well, maybe a little). Honestly, I think other than down right RUDE, I might be considered somewhat Autistic. Autism by definition means: a developmental disorder marked by impaired social interactions, communication difficulties.
I have learned to cope. I can play the game. But really, I live too much in my own head. In my Happy Place. Somewhere, where I don't have to be social or gracious or polite, where I don't have to engage in idol chatter, somewhere deep in my imagination where no one cares what I say or do or expects anything from me.
Pretty shocking admission from a former Cheerleader, isn't it.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Goiters and Girl Scout Cookies
I just found out I have a FREE day!! There isn’t one single thing I HAVE to do today. It was planned differently, Smarty Pants and I had plans to do Boot design on the front entry display case at the school, but plans change.
Smarty Pants is sick, she has a goiter… um… lymph node, swollen in her neck. Her exact words were, “It looks like I swallowed an egg!” I can’t wait to hear the phone call when she reads this!
SP “What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you write about my goiter?”
ME “Can’t help myself… it’s funny.”
SP “Would it be funny if it was your goiter?”
ME “Absolutely not.”
If this were DH (darling hubby) with a swollen lymph node in his neck, the world would stop rotating. That’s what happens when he’s sick. SERIOUSLY, the world stops rotating! It stays the same time of day for 48 hours. No one works or goes to school. Everyone must pay attention to the sick guy. Smarty Pants still has a full day of activities including dance for her daughter and lunch with a friend. You GO GIRL!!!
I on the other hand have nothing to do… I can’t even remember what this feels like. Now don’t get me wrong. There are grocery store needs, and laundry piles, and dust accumulating around the house, but none of this really affects anyone but ME!
So what do I do on a day when I can choose anything I want to do?
I started out on a walk with Cujo. He tried to eat the neighbor. I hollered at the neighbor as he ran away screaming, “We have a new trainer, we’re trying REALLY HARD!!” He didn’t seem to care.
I came home and did my new “Crunchless Abs” DVD. When I was finished, I felt like nothing much had happened, so I did “Abs of Steel” too. Now my stomach hurts and I feel like I could throw up.
I read all my favorite blogs and decided to write one of my own… that’s what I’m doing now… duh…
Next, I think I’ll either take inventory of the Girl Scout cookies still in my house, or I’ll spend a couple hours wasting time on FaceBook. Maybe, I’ll do BOTH!
I like days like this… I think I’ll be pretty happy today as soon as my Abs stop cramping. Hey Smarty Pants, Hope you feel better SOON!!! :)
Smarty Pants is sick, she has a goiter… um… lymph node, swollen in her neck. Her exact words were, “It looks like I swallowed an egg!” I can’t wait to hear the phone call when she reads this!
SP “What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you write about my goiter?”
ME “Can’t help myself… it’s funny.”
SP “Would it be funny if it was your goiter?”
ME “Absolutely not.”
If this were DH (darling hubby) with a swollen lymph node in his neck, the world would stop rotating. That’s what happens when he’s sick. SERIOUSLY, the world stops rotating! It stays the same time of day for 48 hours. No one works or goes to school. Everyone must pay attention to the sick guy. Smarty Pants still has a full day of activities including dance for her daughter and lunch with a friend. You GO GIRL!!!
I on the other hand have nothing to do… I can’t even remember what this feels like. Now don’t get me wrong. There are grocery store needs, and laundry piles, and dust accumulating around the house, but none of this really affects anyone but ME!
So what do I do on a day when I can choose anything I want to do?
I started out on a walk with Cujo. He tried to eat the neighbor. I hollered at the neighbor as he ran away screaming, “We have a new trainer, we’re trying REALLY HARD!!” He didn’t seem to care.
I came home and did my new “Crunchless Abs” DVD. When I was finished, I felt like nothing much had happened, so I did “Abs of Steel” too. Now my stomach hurts and I feel like I could throw up.
I read all my favorite blogs and decided to write one of my own… that’s what I’m doing now… duh…
Next, I think I’ll either take inventory of the Girl Scout cookies still in my house, or I’ll spend a couple hours wasting time on FaceBook. Maybe, I’ll do BOTH!
I like days like this… I think I’ll be pretty happy today as soon as my Abs stop cramping. Hey Smarty Pants, Hope you feel better SOON!!! :)
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Trickery and Blackmail
Whose idea was it for me to chair the Boot?? Oh yeah! Smarty Pants is to blame!
Had a tough fundraising day when we realized our binder for what we've spent on this little shindig is as fat as a toad, and the binder which makes us money... well there's one little, lonely piece of paper in it, which I actually think is more of a guideline on how to utilize the binder system than any actual donated item!
It's time to bring out the big guns. I am not above blackmail. Those interesting pictures I have of you from one of the Smarty Pants, Slippers parties... yep... we're gonna auction those off! Did you at one time tell me in confidence some little story you planned on me taking to my grave? Well GET ME A DONATION or I'm gonna TELL!
I hate to be like this. Really, I do. I prefer the much softer and kinder Slippers, but difficult times call for drastic measures. I'm having nightmares!
Serious, scary nightmares where I actually have a JOB! One that I hate and have to come in to every morning at 8:00AM. One where I have to sit through BOARD meetings, smiling and nodding and gritting my teeth. One where the mundane, idiotic, red tape paperwork piles higher and higher and higher in my cramped, crappy, cubicle with no windows! Nightmares where I come home from a long day and sit my ever enlarging ass on the sofa to watch THE BACHELOR of all awful things!!!
ARRGGHHH!!! I can't take it! Please make a donation to your favorite school. Put me back in my fabulous, artistic, writers happy place! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! See not even afraid to beg!
Had a tough fundraising day when we realized our binder for what we've spent on this little shindig is as fat as a toad, and the binder which makes us money... well there's one little, lonely piece of paper in it, which I actually think is more of a guideline on how to utilize the binder system than any actual donated item!
It's time to bring out the big guns. I am not above blackmail. Those interesting pictures I have of you from one of the Smarty Pants, Slippers parties... yep... we're gonna auction those off! Did you at one time tell me in confidence some little story you planned on me taking to my grave? Well GET ME A DONATION or I'm gonna TELL!
I hate to be like this. Really, I do. I prefer the much softer and kinder Slippers, but difficult times call for drastic measures. I'm having nightmares!
Serious, scary nightmares where I actually have a JOB! One that I hate and have to come in to every morning at 8:00AM. One where I have to sit through BOARD meetings, smiling and nodding and gritting my teeth. One where the mundane, idiotic, red tape paperwork piles higher and higher and higher in my cramped, crappy, cubicle with no windows! Nightmares where I come home from a long day and sit my ever enlarging ass on the sofa to watch THE BACHELOR of all awful things!!!
ARRGGHHH!!! I can't take it! Please make a donation to your favorite school. Put me back in my fabulous, artistic, writers happy place! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! See not even afraid to beg!
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Frank Sent This
I spent the day reading a fabulous book, The Middle Place by Kelly Corrigan. I loved it. It made me really consider my childhood and more importantly, my kids.
Then I was listening to a speech given by Sir Ken Robinson, who is considered a “Creativity Expert”. I want that title. I wonder how you get it…
His speech, which can be found here, is 20 minutes but seriously interesting and entertaining. If you have the time, check it out. His theory, about our educational system, is about how schools kill our children’s creativity.
He tells a story about a boy in The Nativity play at school and how the kings entered the room. The first one said, “I bring you gold,” the second spoke out of turn and said “I bring you myrrh” and the third spoke up and said, “Frank sent this.” Its funny but his point was that little kids don’t really worry about being wrong. They take a stab at it.
He says, kids all start out creative, willing to take a chance at being wrong and by the time they are adults we’ve taken that willingness away. He says, “If you’re not prepared to be wrong, you’ll never come up with anything original.”
“We’ve been educated to be good workers, rather than creative thinkers.”
I don’t want this for my kids. I know I am guilty of it myself. I think reading and writing are the most important. I want my kids to be exceptional readers and writers. What if they’re just not? Are they not as valuable as basketball players or dancers? What if they want to paint, or act?
Kelly Corrigan’s book struck me because her father made her feel like she was the most special person in every situation. She recognized as an adult it was his gift to do that with every person he met, but for a child, that really doesn’t matter. The only person she saw or cared about was herself. He instilled self-confidence and empowerment in her by never letting her be wrong.
I want my kids to take chances… I want to take chances. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hard to see the greatness when they’ve taken a Sharpie to my white board and drawn all over it, or the chair in the bathroom, or the wall (I really should take the Sharpies and hide them). But what different people they might become, if everything they do is an attempt at some kind of greatness instead of just another childhood, punishable mistake…
Then I was listening to a speech given by Sir Ken Robinson, who is considered a “Creativity Expert”. I want that title. I wonder how you get it…
His speech, which can be found here, is 20 minutes but seriously interesting and entertaining. If you have the time, check it out. His theory, about our educational system, is about how schools kill our children’s creativity.
He tells a story about a boy in The Nativity play at school and how the kings entered the room. The first one said, “I bring you gold,” the second spoke out of turn and said “I bring you myrrh” and the third spoke up and said, “Frank sent this.” Its funny but his point was that little kids don’t really worry about being wrong. They take a stab at it.
He says, kids all start out creative, willing to take a chance at being wrong and by the time they are adults we’ve taken that willingness away. He says, “If you’re not prepared to be wrong, you’ll never come up with anything original.”
“We’ve been educated to be good workers, rather than creative thinkers.”
I don’t want this for my kids. I know I am guilty of it myself. I think reading and writing are the most important. I want my kids to be exceptional readers and writers. What if they’re just not? Are they not as valuable as basketball players or dancers? What if they want to paint, or act?
Kelly Corrigan’s book struck me because her father made her feel like she was the most special person in every situation. She recognized as an adult it was his gift to do that with every person he met, but for a child, that really doesn’t matter. The only person she saw or cared about was herself. He instilled self-confidence and empowerment in her by never letting her be wrong.
I want my kids to take chances… I want to take chances. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hard to see the greatness when they’ve taken a Sharpie to my white board and drawn all over it, or the chair in the bathroom, or the wall (I really should take the Sharpies and hide them). But what different people they might become, if everything they do is an attempt at some kind of greatness instead of just another childhood, punishable mistake…
Monday, March 2, 2009
Man Down!
Have you ever had one of those nights where every person you meet is so interesting they should be a character in a movie or book? No?… me neither, until Saturday night.
My girl Smarty Pants invited me to go out on the town with her BFF for the last 25 years and another gal they’ve been friends with for a long time. We’ll call her Shots, and I’ll tell you why a little later.
We had tickets to the Denver Center Performance of “Girls Only” a comedy show that includes singing, dancing, improv, little movie clips and other downright hilarious skits. When we arrived at the theatre we did what came naturally, and bellied up to the bar for a cocktail.
As we were imbibing we noticed a group of gals who clearly drew all the attention in the room. Gal #1, we’ll call her Pinkie, was dressed in a bright and shiny pink plastic bag that was cut down to her navel and rode up her thigh nearly showing the “happy landing” to the entire room. She had on matching pink gloves and shoes to complete the ensemble.
At first we all assumed she and her friends, who were equally noticeable, must be in the show. They all had on very interesting outfits which really should be referred to as costumes. Turns out, Pinkie’s getting married and all of her dress up friends joined her for a night out on the town to celebrate. It leads my mind to consider what in the world her wedding dress will look like. Too bad, I’ll never get to know.
After the hilarious show we hit the Denver bar scene. At the first bar we met up with a couple of guys who were more than happy to give us the bar tour around town. One of our new friends was leaving on a trip Monday to travel abroad for two months. His plan was to stay in Hostels and see as much of the world as he could.
As he was telling us this, I heard a gasp from one of the girls followed by an incredulous, “Have you gotten all your shots?” A moment passed and then we all burst out laughing. Our cover was blown. Yep, we really are just a bunch of mom’s who will no doubt worry about the health and well being of world travelers… Thus earning her the name “Shots” from here on out. (not what you were thinking, huh?)
After several more bars, dancing to some GREAT music, and watching as three policemen tried to get a vagrant off the street, we decided it was time to go for breakfast. It was 2am!! How time flies…
We left the last bar and headed out looking for a cab. As we were walking, Shots and BFF tripped and fell in the street. I immediately started yelling to Smarty Pants, “MAN DOWN! WE’VE GOT A MAN DOWN.” Smarty Pants was laughing so hard she nearly peed her pants. I’m seriously glad that didn’t happen, cuz she might have ruined her fabulous leopard skin shoes…
We got everyone back on their feet and found ourselves in a very interesting diner! The first thing I noticed was the bathroom doors were locked with a code…interesting…
After waiting a little bit we were finally seated in a booth right by the door. About two seconds later, a fascinating little man approached us. He was wearing jean overalls with a Tennessee T on the pocket and a red shirt. His belly can only be described as a perfectly round little sphere. He came up to our table in all his glory and addressed Smarty Pants in a very flamboyant and southern accent, “Girl, you should not be sitting in that outfit! That’s just too beautiful for sitting.”
“My God look at you girls,” pointing at each of us… “ Divine, Divine, Divine- can I borrow a cell phone.” I couldn’t help myself I had to laugh. He came back to the table a couple of times to entertain us with his exuberance and then as suddenly as he came, he disappeared.
We left the restaurant around 3:30AM! Smarty Pant’s Mama told her, “Nothin’ good happens after 1AM,” but in this case she was wrong. We hailed ourselves a cab and were ready to go settle in for the night…but not before the cabdriver gave us a serious talking to. He was white haired, with glasses and had a twinkle in his eye as he started in, “What the hell are you girls doing in that dump?”
“Huh?… uh…” was the response from all four of us.
“That was probably the worst place you could have ever gone. VAGRANTS eat in there.” I wondered how the vagrants paid for their food. “Did you notice the locks on the bathrooms?… so they can’t go in there and shoot up! Don’t you ever go in there, again. If I had picked you up, I would have taken you to a nice place. There’s a real nice place right by your hotel.”
He continued to malign us all the way back to the hotel. Okay, so our choice of diner wasn’t the best… we still had a FABULOUS time. We laughed all night long, and at 11:00 the next day as we tried to rouse ourselves to leave the hotel, we laughed about it all again. There is no place more fascinating to meet people than Denver!
If anyone reading this has had the thought, “These four ladies have no business wondering around Downtown Denver until the wee hours of the morning…” let me just direct you to this little link to make you feel a little better.
My girl Smarty Pants invited me to go out on the town with her BFF for the last 25 years and another gal they’ve been friends with for a long time. We’ll call her Shots, and I’ll tell you why a little later.We had tickets to the Denver Center Performance of “Girls Only” a comedy show that includes singing, dancing, improv, little movie clips and other downright hilarious skits. When we arrived at the theatre we did what came naturally, and bellied up to the bar for a cocktail.
As we were imbibing we noticed a group of gals who clearly drew all the attention in the room. Gal #1, we’ll call her Pinkie, was dressed in a bright and shiny pink plastic bag that was cut down to her navel and rode up her thigh nearly showing the “happy landing” to the entire room. She had on matching pink gloves and shoes to complete the ensemble.
At first we all assumed she and her friends, who were equally noticeable, must be in the show. They all had on very interesting outfits which really should be referred to as costumes. Turns out, Pinkie’s getting married and all of her dress up friends joined her for a night out on the town to celebrate. It leads my mind to consider what in the world her wedding dress will look like. Too bad, I’ll never get to know.
After the hilarious show we hit the Denver bar scene. At the first bar we met up with a couple of guys who were more than happy to give us the bar tour around town. One of our new friends was leaving on a trip Monday to travel abroad for two months. His plan was to stay in Hostels and see as much of the world as he could.
As he was telling us this, I heard a gasp from one of the girls followed by an incredulous, “Have you gotten all your shots?” A moment passed and then we all burst out laughing. Our cover was blown. Yep, we really are just a bunch of mom’s who will no doubt worry about the health and well being of world travelers… Thus earning her the name “Shots” from here on out. (not what you were thinking, huh?)
After several more bars, dancing to some GREAT music, and watching as three policemen tried to get a vagrant off the street, we decided it was time to go for breakfast. It was 2am!! How time flies…
We left the last bar and headed out looking for a cab. As we were walking, Shots and BFF tripped and fell in the street. I immediately started yelling to Smarty Pants, “MAN DOWN! WE’VE GOT A MAN DOWN.” Smarty Pants was laughing so hard she nearly peed her pants. I’m seriously glad that didn’t happen, cuz she might have ruined her fabulous leopard skin shoes…
We got everyone back on their feet and found ourselves in a very interesting diner! The first thing I noticed was the bathroom doors were locked with a code…interesting…
After waiting a little bit we were finally seated in a booth right by the door. About two seconds later, a fascinating little man approached us. He was wearing jean overalls with a Tennessee T on the pocket and a red shirt. His belly can only be described as a perfectly round little sphere. He came up to our table in all his glory and addressed Smarty Pants in a very flamboyant and southern accent, “Girl, you should not be sitting in that outfit! That’s just too beautiful for sitting.”
“My God look at you girls,” pointing at each of us… “ Divine, Divine, Divine- can I borrow a cell phone.” I couldn’t help myself I had to laugh. He came back to the table a couple of times to entertain us with his exuberance and then as suddenly as he came, he disappeared.
We left the restaurant around 3:30AM! Smarty Pant’s Mama told her, “Nothin’ good happens after 1AM,” but in this case she was wrong. We hailed ourselves a cab and were ready to go settle in for the night…but not before the cabdriver gave us a serious talking to. He was white haired, with glasses and had a twinkle in his eye as he started in, “What the hell are you girls doing in that dump?”
“Huh?… uh…” was the response from all four of us.
“That was probably the worst place you could have ever gone. VAGRANTS eat in there.” I wondered how the vagrants paid for their food. “Did you notice the locks on the bathrooms?… so they can’t go in there and shoot up! Don’t you ever go in there, again. If I had picked you up, I would have taken you to a nice place. There’s a real nice place right by your hotel.”
He continued to malign us all the way back to the hotel. Okay, so our choice of diner wasn’t the best… we still had a FABULOUS time. We laughed all night long, and at 11:00 the next day as we tried to rouse ourselves to leave the hotel, we laughed about it all again. There is no place more fascinating to meet people than Denver!
If anyone reading this has had the thought, “These four ladies have no business wondering around Downtown Denver until the wee hours of the morning…” let me just direct you to this little link to make you feel a little better.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Dixie Cups
My twenty-year high school reunion is coming up this summer. Let me just be Frank, (wait, I knew a Frank in high school, let’s just say honest) Honestly, I’m looking pretty good. Not too many wrinkles, weights in the appropriate range, all the gray hairs are concealed by a wonderful woman named Terrilynn, my only real concern is… well my boobs. I’m wondering if I have time for a little lift. You know just something simple, get them back to their 20 year old hey day!
I realize this blog is getting a little sketchy, first the whole “Slumber Party” thing, now we’re talking about my boobs. Nobody said you had to read it!
All I can say is, “Come on girls! Where the hell are you going??” Ever since I’ve started this little running gig… you know training for the BolderBoulder, I’ve lost some weight. Guess where the weight is coming from? Yep, the C cups are shrinkin’ up! It’s really not fair. Trust me, there are other areas I wouldn’t miss.
There is an alternative to actually going under the knife, to perk them up. I just saw on Dr. Phil, teenage girls wearing more than one bra at a time to look busty! Now that’s an idea. How many do you think I can get on at one time, six… seven? How about if I just stuff the way I used to in sixth grade? Although, I never really thought the wadded up Kleenexes fooled anyone.
I’d like to get in on Victoria’s little Secret, but I have a feeling it’s more about airbrushing and lighting than the actual bras. So what am I left with here, Dixie cup ta-tas, or Dr. Christian Troy on Nip Tuck?
Maybe, I should just quit running and let myself "redevelope" . I just heard a study that heavy women over the age of 40 actually look younger than thin women. So which is it at the twenty-year reunion, plump and boobalicious, or skinny with mosquito bites?… tough choice.
I realize this blog is getting a little sketchy, first the whole “Slumber Party” thing, now we’re talking about my boobs. Nobody said you had to read it!
All I can say is, “Come on girls! Where the hell are you going??” Ever since I’ve started this little running gig… you know training for the BolderBoulder, I’ve lost some weight. Guess where the weight is coming from? Yep, the C cups are shrinkin’ up! It’s really not fair. Trust me, there are other areas I wouldn’t miss.
There is an alternative to actually going under the knife, to perk them up. I just saw on Dr. Phil, teenage girls wearing more than one bra at a time to look busty! Now that’s an idea. How many do you think I can get on at one time, six… seven? How about if I just stuff the way I used to in sixth grade? Although, I never really thought the wadded up Kleenexes fooled anyone.
I’d like to get in on Victoria’s little Secret, but I have a feeling it’s more about airbrushing and lighting than the actual bras. So what am I left with here, Dixie cup ta-tas, or Dr. Christian Troy on Nip Tuck?
Maybe, I should just quit running and let myself "redevelope" . I just heard a study that heavy women over the age of 40 actually look younger than thin women. So which is it at the twenty-year reunion, plump and boobalicious, or skinny with mosquito bites?… tough choice.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
WARNING ** The following blog does have sexual content, it is for mature audiences!
Went to a “Slumber Party” last night at my friend Cindi’s house. That’s Cindi - with an I, and don’t you forget it! She’s been selling sex toys… opps, bedroom enhancement products, for about six years now. She loves her job, which is totally obvious right from the start.
There are no men allowed at these parties, and obviously no kids. The women were a broad mix of ages. I brought Smarty Pants with me and while I didn’t know anyone else in the room, it only took me a second to recognize the one mother I had just spent the afternoon with at the Kindergarten Valentines party.
“Two very different parties in one day, huh?” she asked.
“Wow, yeah.” I replied smartly, twirling the green penis dangling from my wine glass.
After a few yummy snacks and a refill on the wine, we all headed into the living room to gather round for her sales pitch. She let us know right up front that she’d be giving us a little sex education, and she would be calling parts by their actual names, no Wooh Whos or Va’ JJ, No Mr. Willie or the Snake. She explained quite eloquently that there really is no “Little Man in the Boat.”
She told us she had everything in stock, (Even the Blow Up SHEEP) so we’d take our prizes home in a discrete black bag and that ordering would be private. Thank Goodness for the one who wanted to buy the BLOW UP SHEEP! BAAA BAAA. I was a bit relieved I wouldn’t need to know what Kindergarten Mom was buying. It might make the next Kindergarten activity a bit uncomfortable… “so…how’s the nipple cream working out for you?”
Cindi eased us in with a candle, some great smelling body sprays and a vibrating hair brush… no… this really is for your HEAD!
Then she brought out the more interesting stuff… bottles of little wonder products with names like, Lickity Stiff, Like a Virgin, Nympho Niagra, and X-scream! Wow! Her helpful assistant went around the room, spraying, dipping and rubbing all kinds of gels, powders and glitters on the women.
Right before the five-minute break, she pointed out the wide assortment of lingerie, everything from sparkles to leathers to pearls, and the library section, with books with titles like, Tickle His Pickle and Ride ‘Em Cowgirl - Sex Position Secrets For Better Bucking! Mama never told me there were books like this!
After the break the fun really started, with Cindi – with an I, setting a glowing, rotating vibrator right on the fireplace mantel and telling us it worked as an art piece. Huh… I never would have thought of that…
She brought out more battery-operated devices than I ever imagined possible. Every size, shape and color imaginable. With working parts that rotated, vibrated, jabbed and tickled and the grand daddy of them all that rotated, vibrated, jabbed and tickled all at the same time! These little babies, or I should say BIG babies had some great names too. Names like, Twist and Shout, Beginner’s Bunny, Mr. Dependable and Sugar Spoon! I want that job, the one who gets to come up with the names for this stuff!
She wrapped up the show right after nine o’clock and Smarty Pants and I had to dash home to the kiddos. We placed our order, took our discrete black bags, vibrating and BAAing and left as quickly as we could.
It was a really fun evening. I think it’s important that women can feel empowered about their sexuality. It’s about damn time! We can finally be a mature audience in discussing what works and can take control of our own sex lives. Thank you CINDI - with an I, for all you do to help women. Oh… and thanks for the Penis Lipstick, you gave me for FREE!
There are no men allowed at these parties, and obviously no kids. The women were a broad mix of ages. I brought Smarty Pants with me and while I didn’t know anyone else in the room, it only took me a second to recognize the one mother I had just spent the afternoon with at the Kindergarten Valentines party.
“Two very different parties in one day, huh?” she asked.
“Wow, yeah.” I replied smartly, twirling the green penis dangling from my wine glass.
After a few yummy snacks and a refill on the wine, we all headed into the living room to gather round for her sales pitch. She let us know right up front that she’d be giving us a little sex education, and she would be calling parts by their actual names, no Wooh Whos or Va’ JJ, No Mr. Willie or the Snake. She explained quite eloquently that there really is no “Little Man in the Boat.”
She told us she had everything in stock, (Even the Blow Up SHEEP) so we’d take our prizes home in a discrete black bag and that ordering would be private. Thank Goodness for the one who wanted to buy the BLOW UP SHEEP! BAAA BAAA. I was a bit relieved I wouldn’t need to know what Kindergarten Mom was buying. It might make the next Kindergarten activity a bit uncomfortable… “so…how’s the nipple cream working out for you?”
Cindi eased us in with a candle, some great smelling body sprays and a vibrating hair brush… no… this really is for your HEAD!
Then she brought out the more interesting stuff… bottles of little wonder products with names like, Lickity Stiff, Like a Virgin, Nympho Niagra, and X-scream! Wow! Her helpful assistant went around the room, spraying, dipping and rubbing all kinds of gels, powders and glitters on the women.
Right before the five-minute break, she pointed out the wide assortment of lingerie, everything from sparkles to leathers to pearls, and the library section, with books with titles like, Tickle His Pickle and Ride ‘Em Cowgirl - Sex Position Secrets For Better Bucking! Mama never told me there were books like this!
After the break the fun really started, with Cindi – with an I, setting a glowing, rotating vibrator right on the fireplace mantel and telling us it worked as an art piece. Huh… I never would have thought of that…
She brought out more battery-operated devices than I ever imagined possible. Every size, shape and color imaginable. With working parts that rotated, vibrated, jabbed and tickled and the grand daddy of them all that rotated, vibrated, jabbed and tickled all at the same time! These little babies, or I should say BIG babies had some great names too. Names like, Twist and Shout, Beginner’s Bunny, Mr. Dependable and Sugar Spoon! I want that job, the one who gets to come up with the names for this stuff!
She wrapped up the show right after nine o’clock and Smarty Pants and I had to dash home to the kiddos. We placed our order, took our discrete black bags, vibrating and BAAing and left as quickly as we could.
It was a really fun evening. I think it’s important that women can feel empowered about their sexuality. It’s about damn time! We can finally be a mature audience in discussing what works and can take control of our own sex lives. Thank you CINDI - with an I, for all you do to help women. Oh… and thanks for the Penis Lipstick, you gave me for FREE!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Angelina and Me
Today was random craziness… started the day off comparing myself to Angelina Jolie and got laughed at by a Funky Chicken…tried a second time to draw attention back to myself with Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt still in the picture and got completely shut down by Brad's abs… somehow side stepped to literary connections… and faced off against a smarty pants, who didn’t find the humor in any of it. Laugh Smarty Pants, Laugh!!
Why do people in my REAL life have to mess in my happy little fantasy life? I am HOTTER, (more hot) than ANGELINA FRICKIN’ JOLIE…
In the middle of all this I managed to clean my house top to bottom, run two miles, do 200 sit ups, create Easy Bake oven SPECTACULAR cakes, all while listening to my five year old ramble nonstop nonsense.
Random sentence # 2643, “When are we going to the dentist again, he said I can come in whenever my tooth is loose?”
Me ~ “Your tooth’s not loose.”
#2644 “Yeah, but I can come in WHEN it is, sometimes he just pulls kids teeth.”
Vacuumed entire house and turned around just in time to see old dog WIPE HIS BUTT on the carpet! Picked up second child from school, dragging his tail off the bus because he and his teacher can’t seem to read the note about CAR PICK UP! Came home to struggle with 2nd grade homework, saying for the 1000th time “Went is not spelled Wint!” and “How can you misspell School, when it’s in the sentence right above you?”
Made homemade pizzas, listened to my mother-in-law freak out about the salmonella Girl Scout cookies I fed my children, waited until MIL left then Googled salmonella in Girl Scout cookies… Did Eye Spy Book with five year old, watched Air Bud while five year old talked through entire movie.
Put five-year-old to bed just in time for son to come home from basketball practice in a TOTAL panic because brand new iPod is making a funny noise and seems to be broken. Fixed the iPod, tucked son into bed, talked to Smarty Pants about catering big FUNdraiser and emailed ten people about auction items. Now I am going to stay up late and continue writing my 2nd novel…
Dear Angelina,
Try THAT without any housecleaners, cooks, chauffers, nannies or BRAD PITT to help you out!
HA! I AM smokin’ hot!!
ME
Why do people in my REAL life have to mess in my happy little fantasy life? I am HOTTER, (more hot) than ANGELINA FRICKIN’ JOLIE…
In the middle of all this I managed to clean my house top to bottom, run two miles, do 200 sit ups, create Easy Bake oven SPECTACULAR cakes, all while listening to my five year old ramble nonstop nonsense.
Random sentence # 2643, “When are we going to the dentist again, he said I can come in whenever my tooth is loose?”
Me ~ “Your tooth’s not loose.”
#2644 “Yeah, but I can come in WHEN it is, sometimes he just pulls kids teeth.”
Vacuumed entire house and turned around just in time to see old dog WIPE HIS BUTT on the carpet! Picked up second child from school, dragging his tail off the bus because he and his teacher can’t seem to read the note about CAR PICK UP! Came home to struggle with 2nd grade homework, saying for the 1000th time “Went is not spelled Wint!” and “How can you misspell School, when it’s in the sentence right above you?”
Made homemade pizzas, listened to my mother-in-law freak out about the salmonella Girl Scout cookies I fed my children, waited until MIL left then Googled salmonella in Girl Scout cookies… Did Eye Spy Book with five year old, watched Air Bud while five year old talked through entire movie.
Put five-year-old to bed just in time for son to come home from basketball practice in a TOTAL panic because brand new iPod is making a funny noise and seems to be broken. Fixed the iPod, tucked son into bed, talked to Smarty Pants about catering big FUNdraiser and emailed ten people about auction items. Now I am going to stay up late and continue writing my 2nd novel…
Dear Angelina,
Try THAT without any housecleaners, cooks, chauffers, nannies or BRAD PITT to help you out!
HA! I AM smokin’ hot!!
ME
Monday, February 9, 2009
Just Breathe
The word Spirit, comes from the Latin spirare which means breathe. When I have time to sit quietly, or to write, to tap into my spirit, I feel like I can once again breathe. When I let the world fold over myself, engulfing all the energy I have, the way the world likes to do… I can’t breathe.
The sun helps me to breathe.
Wine helps me breathe.
Running.
Dancing.
Laughing.
Loving.
They all help me to breathe.
Without them… these few moments snatched back from the jaws of the greedy world ~ I would surely suffocate.
The sun helps me to breathe.
Wine helps me breathe.
Running.
Dancing.
Laughing.
Loving.
They all help me to breathe.
Without them… these few moments snatched back from the jaws of the greedy world ~ I would surely suffocate.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
25 Random Things About me
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.
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.
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!
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