This n that

Cuteness in the Making

2012-01-29T14:55:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of pursuing My Manifesto, I did stuff this weekend.

Although, it wasn't anything from my Bucket List. Mostly because I'm easily distracted...and *maybe* a little fickle.

BUT, you'll be happy to know that what I DID do has brought me extreme joy and, in a small way, has created a path through the funkishness that has plagued me lately.

I'm working up to purging my house of stuff I will un-likely ever use, but which I keep because some day pigs might fly and hell will freeze over and I don't want to be caught unprepared. However, since I've decided to spend a little more time in this place known as reality, I'm going to get rid of those items because a cluttered house is a cluttered mind and I want some fucking zen, ya know?

And so...while I was scrutinizing the front pantry (a.k.a. the place we put stuff because we have no idea where else to put it) I came across these... (remember to click to enlarge pictures)

They are 6" ceramic tiles that were given to me as a gift many years ago and have been locked away in a dark corner of the closet for an obscene number of years. They are too beautiful to waste away in the dark. It is a love story played out through the 12 months of the year, starting with January in the upper left - it moves through their courtship and wedding to end (in the lower right) with a baby. I just love them. So, I'm a terrible person for leaving them sit so long...mostly because I couldn't figure out what to do with them!

(the back of the tiles, with month of the year & such...in Danish)

Then I had an epiphany - while contemplating how to get rid of the excess amount of beads I have.
Beads + wire = Stuff I could use to hang things...LIKE PORCELAIN TILES.

So, I used wire and beads and strung them up and........

VIOLA! Except, that when I uploaded the pictures I did it in the wrong order, so they are all out of sync and I just don't feel like futzing with it to fix it...so, scroll down.

THIS picture is Sept-Dec.

The picture below is May -Aug.

And finally, Jan-April

And...this is what it looks like hanging in the hallway. Key-oot!!!!

Don'tcha just love it! Of course you do, it was rhetorical.

View from the front door, where you can see the rest of the kids artwork on the walls. And Pickles the Cat, who is hoping I'll break out the wire again so he can attack me and almost cause me to break half the tiles.

Unrelated - anyone want a cat? I have a box and packing tape...ready to go...just say the word.

Oh...and here is a close-up of the pictures hanging between the tiles...my kids before they turned into teenagers. They used to be so cute. And now...I'mma gonna need a bigger box to send them to their next family. Any takers? Ha...I kid...*mostly*

Lastly...

The vase has been hanging in that spot for a few years now, next to a nekkid window (meaning, window with no coverings).

I got tired of looking at the nekkidness...of vase & window, so I fixed it!

Carnations in the vase, clearance curtains with leftover beaded ribbon.

Here's a close-up of the beads, 'cause you know you want it....

Ultimately, everything was done in an effort to avoid having to do any real work this weekend. Because...I had a weird premonition that working at chores & de-cluttering this weekend could lead to a disruption in the space/time continuum, which could be disastrous. Who wants to be responsible for fucking up the universe? Not me, I can tell you that!

That's it for now...I'll keep you posted on my efforts to de-muddle my brain and my house. Until then, enjoy my somewhat clear and mostly un-crooked pictures!

p.s.

There were a lot of hyphenated words used in this post.

p.p.s.

Just because I wanted to.

Things for My Bucket

2012-01-27T11:14:00.000-08:00

My bucket list is so long that I either need LOTS of buckets or about a bazillion ~~regular~~ industrial size buckets.

I'm eternally finding something to add to my list of stuff I need to do before I'm ready to spare humanity and move on to annoy peeps in the afterlife. If there is one. I hope so, because I bet not existing would get really B.O.R.I.N.G!!!

Luckily for YOU, Dear Reader, I'm only going to list a few of them here. Just a few, to give you an idea of what I hope will be in store for me in the coming days/months/years...or in my next life, if I don't get around to it now.

*Singing Lessons*

I want them. I have a decent voice. Not great...actually, not even 'good', but NOT terrible. I've always wanted to learn to breathe right and sing with confidence, knowing that I'm not making the ears of those in close proximity bleed.

*Archery Lessons*

I want my own bow & arrows. I want to shoot stuff. With arrows. I want to hear the bow string **twack**. If my son doesn't start using his bow more often, I'm stealing his...along with his BRAND. NEW. ARROWS. THAT. WE. SPENT. $150. BUCKS. AS. IN. DOLLARS. ON. 'Cause I want to shoot stuff. With arrows.

*Gun Range Shooting*

Oh, don't even look at me like that. I'm a tree hugging, animal rights, don't want to hunt, strict gun control, kind of person. BUT DAMN...shooting is FUN! I haven't been shooting in YEARS! The last time was with an ex-ihopeheiswrithinginpainsomewhere boyfriend who had a big bad mofo of a shotgun that 'bout knocked me on my ass and left me with ginormous bruises on my shoulder. Oh, but what fun! I would own a handgun. Yes, I said it. So there. I just think weapons are interesting. Destructive and bad, yes...but also cool. What can I say, I grew up watching Rambo & Ah'nold inflicting massive amounts of death upon bad guys. While I can't stand really violent movies anymore, I DO like *powpow* stuff. I might be a man and don't know it yet.

*Community Involvement*

Do something to give back. SOMETHING. Step one: explore volunteer options in my community. I've volunteered for LOTS of stuff - hard stuff - and now I'm looking for something regular (to get me out of the house) and easy (so that I don't go into crazymakingmode and wig out).

*Write a Pornographic Story and Submit It*

I bet you just said, "WTF?" You did, didn't ya? Hehehe...oh, come on! Wouldn't that be so much fun? O.k. if not something pornographic, then maybe just write something and submit it somewhere. Maybe.

I'm stopping at five, because it is a nice even number. O.k. 5 is an ODD number, but so am I. However, the *word* F.I.V.E. has 4 letters...so, it's sort of even. There ya go.

As I said, my list is so much longer...with easy and hard and intimidating things. This is a sampling of what goes on in my head.

What's on your list?

The Manifesto: Part 1

2012-01-26T10:12:00.000-08:00

*Click pictures to enlarge*

Wordless Wednesday 11: Importance of Compliments

2012-01-25T00:30:00.000-08:00

(Lyrics from Hate Me, by Blue October)

p.s.
Remember when I said "...laugh at or with me."
Here ya go...Love me some Jack Johnson...

p.p.s.
Please ignore the fact there there are words on Wordless Wednesday

p.p.p.s.
Doh!

Until then...

2012-01-24T09:55:00.000-08:00

And, after ending with scrolly cuteness, I leave you this...a little balance of light and dark and because....

I love this group and these two songs - even though they are morose and sulky.

Each time I listen to the song below it reminds me of Edna from The Awakening...

if you've ever read it, you know how it ends.

p.s.

I'm not suicidal, I just like these songs.

p.p.s.

Just in case you were concerned.

p.p.p.s.

I'm just feeling sulky...meh, phooey and blergh.

p.p.p.p.s.

I suppose that means I should walk up a hill or some stairs.

p.p.p.p.p.s.

This could possibly be THE most non-sensical, disjointed post I've ever done.

p.p.p.p.p.p.s.

I believe that might be where my true talent lies.

Trying To Paint a Futurescape - Mental Wanderlust.

2012-01-23T10:38:00.000-08:00

I want to move.

And yet, I don't.

I'm restless for something new.

And then again hesitant to give up the now.

Hubbypants and I bought our house in 1992, just a few short months after we got married. It's a fine house, just big enough (except when I go to to clean it and the 1,600 square feet suddenly feels like 4,500). It is in a fine neighborhood with the most wonderful neighbors (who have become good friends) that person can wish for.

And yet....I'm restless for change.

I never expected 19 - almost 20 - years to happen so fast.

Spending that much time in one place is...well...a long time.

I am not the type to become sentimental about my home, maybe because it isn't really the home I wanted. It was the home that 'worked' for us at the time. I don't have an attachment because my kids grew up here or because it was the first home we bought. I'm just not wired that way. The idea of "laying down roots" has never been a big deal to me.

That isn't to say I wouldn't be sad...I have spent almost 20 years here and I'm not heartless toward this house, there ARE memories here. I can't take the wall with me that has the pencil marks to measure the kids height, but I can take a picture of it. And those memories? Those I can take with me, too. I would miss my friends and neighbors and the close bonds we've formed.

Hubbypants and I would sometimes wonder if it would be easier to sell our house and just rent, putting him much closer to work, thus avoiding the dreaded Silicon Valley commute traffic. Renting would enable us to be more spontaneously mobile, if an opportunity presented itself. I'm not delusional, I know renting has its own set of hazards. There are many pros & cons to this idea. But, we've contemplated it. It just sounds so...free.

I'm a ponderer...I just wonder and contemplate and think...WAY TOO MUCH. And I'm pondering if this is the city I want to grow old(er) in. A friend of mine has already sold their family home and downsized - giving up the house and yard for a condo with a deck. It may not be the last time they move, they are still putting their retirement plans into action. Another friend and her husband are already discussing future plans of selling and moving to San Francisco - big city life, instead of sprawling, massive suburban living.

Hubbypants and I? Well, we have no plans. And that bothers me. And thus the itch and desire to scout out new territory and discover a plan for the future.

Would I uproot my kids at this point in their lives? Yes. I would. Would I uproot myself? Give up the relationships and familiarity I have here and now? Yes. I would. Would I second guess the decision and worry and fret? Yes. I probably would.

But isn't that par for the course with change? Of course it is. It is what makes change both frightening and exhilarating!

We've talked about moving...but we've never done so with any seriousness or real drive. This is just me wondering and pondering where our future is leading us. I'm afraid that if we don't start seriously looking into our wants and desires for our later years that we'll just stick to the status quo. Maybe there isn't anything wrong with that. We're in a fine place and there is nothing preventing us from being happy here.

But is this the 'here' that we really want for the rest of our lives? Do we want to discover our ideal 'here' later, when we are older? Or do we want to scout it out now, while we, and our kids, are younger and more resilient to change - and better able to recover if things don't go as planned?

You see? THIS why I should probably find a day job - to keep my mind otherwise occupied and prevent it from lapsing into mental wanderlust, thus sparking a desire for adventure.

Dangerous thoughts, don't ya think?

What do you think?

Do you have a plan for your future?

If so, have you started putting it into play?

Dollars and Sense

2012-01-20T12:18:00.000-08:00

Money, money, money, mola, dinero, bank, greenbacks...all of which grow wings and flutter out of my wallet the second my arse steps over the grocery store threshold.

Cha-fuckin-ching, says the cash register.

At some point I'll be adept at handling coupons and shopping sales, etc. (not holding my breath though)

But first things first: What is a 'good' price?

I ask this because, when shopping sales, it would seem that the 'good-stock-up-now' price would be a buy one/get one free sort of deal. But, is it STILL a good deal when it seems as if the grocery store has jacked up the 'original' price to make the BYGO seem even better?

Really, I do believe they do it! I buy bacon somewhat regularly and when it goes on BYGO the price is suddenly $7.99, when just recently I bought it for much...MUCH...less, even at the non-sale price. And yes, that is the BETTER bacon, thicker center cut and all that hoopla.

Same holds true for many other grocery items.

Here is the clincher though - I'm not entirely SURE I'm right. Because....

Because, I don't remember nor do I pay attention to the prices much. I buy what I like and/or need. I'm not that brand loyal, I shop the best price...usually. But when it comes to searching the weekly ads and exclaiming, "Hot damn that's a good price for Such&Such, I need to stock up!"...I just can't, 'cause I just don't know!

There are 5 different grocery fliers that come to my house, so who's right? Who is the cheapest?

There are some things I pay more money for - humanely raised meat, dairy products and eggs. I'm not compromising.

So what's a gal to do in order to wade through the muck of flashy ads and Trixie grocery stores that are out to make a buck off me? (and that is their business, so I am OK with it...I just don't want them taking any more than I deem necessary)

I thought of creating a spreadsheet of the most commonly used items and gather the fluctuating prices to gleam the average, as well as the 'sale' prices to really know when it is low, low, low.

Is that too much work? Am I over thinking this?

I don't want to become obsessed, but I do want to know whether buying the bulk box of canned tomatoes from Costco is ultimately cheaper than a good sale at Safeway (or whatever grocery store). If I use oodles of an item, I want to know when to pounce on that sale - whether I 'coupon' or not...because I've decided that my heart isn't in the couponing thing. Too much work for my fickle brain.

But...averaging out prices, deciding when it is best to buy...THAT I might be able to do.

OK...now for my super smart readers to weigh in. Putting the idea of couponing aside, do you have a system for tracking prices (sale and non-sale) and then knowing when it's good or when it's misleading (intentionally or not)?

I am off to the grocery store, but will be hoarding my receipts in anticipation of your replies.

BRB

The Friend Request

2012-01-19T11:03:00.000-08:00

"Want to be my friend?"

My daughter would utter those words to other toddling little beasties while strutting around the playground. Never did she display a fear of being rejected. In her head, I'm sure, it just wasn't an option.

She ALWAYS made friends.

I started thinking about the idea of 'adult friendships' and how much it has morphed with social media, specifically Facebook.

The Friend Request - So very different now than it was back on the playground. How I admire people who meet someone out in the real world and then BAM!! they are Facebook friends.

There are 146 'friends' on my Facebook page. A relatively small number, compared to much of what I see on Facebook. A few of my 'friends' are family, some are real life friends that I see somewhat regularly, there are the friends I knew through work or other on-line venues and friends I've met through OTHER on-line friends - meaning, you 'chat' back and forth via comments on a post and eventually someone takes the plunge and sends a friend request.

I'm a shy friend-er. If you get a friend request from me, you can pretty much equate that to the experience of sighting Bigfoot. It isn't because I don't want to have more friends, it has to do with me fearing that you don't want to be mine!

I will sometimes get friend requests from someone simply because we have a mutual friend - I blame it on Facebook and their incessant insistence that SuchandSuch Person is someone I "might" know. STOP PUSHING PEOPLE ON ME, FACEBOOK!

I don't (normally) accept requests from a person just because we have a mutual friend. There needs to be some kind of interaction/connction - enough for me to get a vibe about who they are. There are exceptions, of course - there is ALWAYS room for exceptions.

I'm also selective because I am a ~~Facecrack~~ Facebook Addict. My page has my family on it. I sort of put myself out there on Facebook...so, I have to protect myself (somewhat). I need to feel that the person on the other end of that 'request' is really going to be my friend and that I'm not just some notch on their friend count belt.

And, also...there is a bit of shyness. I've sent friend requests that have been ignored by people that I never suspected would do so. And no, I don't just suspect I was ignored...I KNOW it. That may be why I'm reluctant to extend myself. But, let me be up front and say that I've ignored my fair share of requests as well...all from strangers.

I think that is why I want potential 'friends' to come to me. In my mind, if they make the effort, then THEY want to be MY friend - somehow that seems more legit. I do realize how flawed this logic is and that it is entirely likely someone isn't friending me for the same reason! But, that's the way it is.

Friend requests are personal. I know that isn't the case for the majority of the Social Media Universe, but it is for me. Weigh in...what do you think....

Does this sound wrong?

Am I investing too much thought into modern friend-making?

What are your thoughts?

Do you freely 'Friend' and why?

Or are you somewhat reserved...and why?

p.s.

This is NOT a request for more friend requests. Just an observation and a hope that more people will confirm they think like me and that I'm not nearly as crazy as I think I am.

p.p.s.

Kthxbai and have a nice day.

Wordless Wednesday 10: Keep Your Fingers Out of my Business

2012-01-18T11:29:00.000-08:00

Click here to see the "the cat incident"...

The 'internet blackout' today is in protest of proposed laws & such that I really don't know much about, but felt compelled to do a post in its honor regardless of my ignorance (which, is kind of blissful at times). Please read up and make your own decisions on whether you agree, disagree or remain in a fog (like me...we'll form a club and discuss our lack of being "in the know" over coffee and pastries and such).

Also, too...the people who run this country ARE REALLY growing awful long fingers and sticking them in places they don't belong. Shame on you! *slaps hand of government*

SOPA = Bad.

Gathering

2012-01-13T11:49:00.000-08:00

The mountain, she believed, was made of fulfilled dreams she could only wish for...

All of which lived at the very top.

Out of her reach.

Scaling the mountain, she thought, was only for the strong and the quick.

The top could only be reached by the smart and the brave.

And so she watched as other climbed, convinced the journey for them was enchanted,

making it every so easy...for them.

While she watched, she noticed that the climbers sometimes fell,

especially those that took the shortest path.

Straight up, it seemed, was not the path that led to the top.

It was the path that wound around,

switchbacks that sometimes detoured to other paths.

A journey of twists and turns where she suddenly found herself at the top,

gazing down at a life fulfilled.

The dreams, she realized, were not found at the top,

but gathered along the way.

(Disclaimer: if it seems disjointed and incomplete, I wrote as I drew...

so it IS disjointed and incomplete.

Or, rather, unedited...mostly.)

Mirror Mirror...shut the hell up!

2012-01-11T14:20:00.000-08:00

Emerging from the shower I figured I'd just throw myself together.

"No make-up today," I thought to myself.

And then before I knew it, I was doing just that.

Because...apparently...my eyeballs and mirror are in cahoots and notice a crisis well before my brain does and so they determined otherwise.

I was actually in the middle of applying foundation before I realized what was happening.

After giving myself some very stern eyebrows in the mirror, I looked a little closer and had to concede...today would, in fact, be a good make-up day.

So here I am now, with a question to my body:

"Why is it that I go to bed and go through the trouble of 'sleeping' only to wake up and look as if I've been awake for 3 days straight?"

OK...maybe TWO questions:

"And...why do I go through all that [see above] only to FEEL as if I've been awake for that long as well?"

Oh, dear...dear body, why must you make me wiggle my middle finger and hurl creative expletives at you?

There is not nearly enough concealer on the planet to undo the construction project you have going on under my eyes. Sigh....

Is it really so much to ask for a nights sleep that leaves me actually feeling rested in the morning? If I'm going to lay there 'sleeping' for that many hours then you owe it to me.

Now, if you'll excuse me I'm heading to the store for some Spackle.

And...some lower wattage light bulbs.

The Great Thing About Saying, "YES!"

2012-01-09T15:02:00.000-08:00

This morning started off with my newly 16 year old son pleading to stay home from school today, since he missed his chance to play birthday hooky last week - his birthday so rudely falling on a Saturday.

Pfft...the nerve.

And, being the good and conscientious mom that I pretend to be most of the time, I said, "No!"

Until... I dropped off his younger sister and thought...what the heck? One thing you should know about me, I'm a sucker. And I'm easily swayed. And...fun often wins out over everything else. So, I'll be handing back that "good & conscientious" award. Besides, he's an excellent student, never gets in trouble and he didn't want anything for his birthday or a party or...he's a great kid but kind of a stick in the mud.

After Mission Stay Home was accomplished, he then asked to go to our favorite coffee place...we did. While there I mentioned I had planned to go to Santa Cruz to walk the path next to the ocean. Much to my surprise, he wanted to go!

He NEVER wants to go...so, of course, we left immediately...before he changed his mind.

And this is what we saw...

And thank you, Dear Random Lady,

for bending over just as I snapped the picture.

We walked for about 3 miles (round trip), with my son chatting the whole way. These are the moments I live for, as a parent, when my children just talk and talk...unguarded, no wall of angst...because there are so many days where they hardly say anything or their mood so just too precarious.

This particular conversation was about the possibility of submitting an episode idea he has for his favorite sitcom, The Big Bang Theory. The WHOLE 3 miles was dedicated to setting the stage and fine tuning the idea.

And let me tell you, it is a wicked good idea! In my opinion, as a fan of the show and Geek/Nerds in general, it would make a kick-ass episode.

When we got back to the car, he jotted all his ideas down and he's been busy typing it up since we got home.

So, here I am...the proud mama who is now trying to figure out how the hell to send his episode idea to the writers (?)/creators (?) of the show, knowing full well that it is unlikely to make it into the hands capable of bringing it to life. But that's OK...because despite the obstacle, he still wants to send it. He's STILL investing the time and effort.

This is a kid who hated the idea of writing anything. Mr. Science and Math guy is slowly evolving into a person I did not expect, but...who has me soaring over the moon.

He wants to write!!

Perhaps not as a career - or so he says right now - but he wants to get his book idea (unrelated to the BBT episode) down on paper. He is toying with the idea of writing SciFi/Fantasy in between whatever else he decides to pursue as his future stretches out before him.

Who knows what that future holds. He is likely to change his mind a dozen times before he graduates college and then maybe again after that!

But then again...maybe not.

I'm so happy that I said yes this morning.

Yo, how about bringin' that sexy back!

2012-01-06T14:15:00.000-08:00

Are you sexy?

Do you know it?

If you listen to pop music then you may have heard of LMFAO and their song, I'm Sexy and I know It.

Here, let me help you with this visual

(which, may not be appropriate for little kids - or anyone with eyes).

Yup, "Wiggle wiggle wiggle yeah"....it's going to be with you for a looong time. I apologize, but misery loves company and if I can't erase it from my eyeballs then I'm gonna share it.

My post is inspired by this post on Blogher about flirting.

I didn't read the article because I'm interested in flirting (of course, Hubbypants probably wouldn't mind if I were a bit more flirtatious with him). I read it because I started to think about the act of being flirty and how flirtation and self esteem are so closely linked (as I see it).

In the article she talks about smiling. While she did say that she smiled indiscriminately (at men, women, children), she does suggest that smiling can be flirting. It dawned on me then that I might be Ms. Flirty McFlirtypants.

I smile a lot. Even at home I've caught myself doing it. I may even be a habitual smiler, doing it without even knowing! I know this because I've caught people smiling back at me, for what I believed was no good reason and as I pondered this I felt my facial muscles contort into the 'concentrating look'. Yes, I WAS smiling!

Alright, we all know that I'm not flirting when I'm smiling, but I did start to wonder if I'd be able to flirt if it were necessary. I'm afraid that if I tried to flirt the person of interest would think I'm having some sort of attack and/or that I'm insane and call 911. It's rather fortunate for me and the world at large that I am happily married.

But...what if I were suddenly single?

I was cute once, I have pictures to prove it.

Even back then, though...I wasn't particularly confident. Thus the conflict with flirtation. Being able to flirt, in my opinion, means that you have a level of self esteem that allowed you to believe, even for a nanosecond, that the other person would be interested in receiving whatever flirtyness you flung at them.

And so we are back to the song lyrics:

I'm sexy and I know it.

While I don't want to credit LMFAO with creating deep and meaningful lyrics (come on, you watched the video...you know what I mean) there is something to be said for believing, and investing in, what we tell ourselves.

We (and by we, I mean me) believe the inner critic before the inner critic even utters a word. We are that quick to inflict negativity upon ourselves. And anything positive? Forget it, we need to interrogate the motive of anything positive and treat it as suspect.

I'm sexy and I know it.

Yup, some of you do know it. I can see it, sense it...you give off a vibe. It's not just the super models or the rich and famous or the MILFs. Yes, I said MILF. I have a friend who once told me that she wanted to be a MILF (if you don't know what that is, then you need to go Google it). At first I was horrified...really? That's it...that's all you think of yourself?

But now...I think I understand it a little more. There is a 'feeling' one gets when you know that you are desired by a total stranger. Me, personally, I'd like to be desired for a lot more than...um...the 'F' part of MILF. But I do get it....I understand it more. People are attracted by that vibe, which is confidence, self assured, a general good feeling about your self worth

I'm sexy and I know it.

When I was on my morning walk I tossed around how I was going to approach this post. I kept replaying the tune in my head, but instead I sang "I'm NOT sexy and I know it."

Because that is how I see and perceive myself. It's evident by the clothes I wear, the way I interact with people. And it has nothing to do with 'sexy', it has everything to do with just plain old body image. When you (which is still me, it is my blog after all) don't feel good about yourself, you project that to the world.

I'm sexy and I know it.

When we feel defeated, dumpy, lumpy, frumpy, fat and squishy, droopy, saggy, baggy and tired.When you've gained weight. And then gained some more. And because that weight was lonely so you went and found it some more pounds to hang out with...then it's hard to imagine....

Being sexy and knowing it.

But...maybe it's important that we do.

I realize that using 'sexy' for this post might seem superficial and perhaps it is. Many people have a whole host of other things they strive to be and couldn't give a damn about sexy. I admit, I'm the same way.

I guess my point isn't just about being sexy, it's about the lyrics we allow to play in our heads.

I'm **** and I know it.

It could be anything. I'm 'smart' and I know it. I'm 'agoodwriter' and I know it. I'm 'agoodperson' and I know it.

I continually irk my husband with my (possibly over the top) self deprecating humor. I love him immensely for that, for not wanting me to constantly put myself down.

I do realize that I perpetuate my self image by doing it....at least I think I'm starting to realize it. It's the same as singing, "I'm NOT sexy and I know it."

It's not HELPFUL and I know it.

While you won't see me strutting around as if I'm all-that-and-a-bag-o'-chips anytime soon, I am going to stop being my own Negative Nelly and let LMFAO's lyrics accompany me.

I'm sexy and I know it.

And...I'm not going to stop smiling. If you see me on the street I guarantee I'm not flirting with you...or maybe I am...it just might be part of my building confidence plan. Just smile back. It's fun and it's free and then, pass it on.

I'm sexy and I know it.

I'm {going to be less critical} and I know it.

I'm {going to stop disbelieving in myself} and I know it.

I'm {going to sing along with Melissa and insert my own issue [here]} and I know it.

I believe in you and you know it.

p.s.
I really was cute once.

p.p.s.
I have witnesses. And pictures. I think I said that already. I miss you 20something...sigh....

p.p.p.s.
I'll start talking more positive about myself tomorrow.

p.p.p.p.s.
Yeah...I got nothing else to say.

Give me a home, where my imagination roams...

2012-01-05T14:15:00.000-08:00

I hate that the package man (a.k.a UPS, FED-X, etc) drives by my house. I hate even more when he/she stops on my street, steps from my own doorway...only to deliver a package to someone else.

I want him to stop here (him, because that is all I have in my hood...him drivers).

I want packages and presents and cards and letters. Daily.

I want a pair of roller skates. Fancy ones.

I want to wear a tutu when I go to the grocery store and a princess tiara.

Or a fireman outfit, complete with plastic ax. Or, a ninja. With an ax. And a tutu, but black...of course. I'll leave the bling at home, because ninjas don't bling...they need to be stealth-like.

I want to buy all the office supplies that my little heart desires and fill up an entire wall of Post-It notes that utter nothing but words of encouragement and love. And binders, folders, colored tabs and tape, and stamps...I want to stamp things and hear *ka-thunk*...and then highlight it in every color.

I want to push the little shopping cart meant for kids.

I want a bell and tall red flag for my bike and a playing card in the spokes. I want to fly down the road with my bike singing, "rat-a-tat-tat".

I want to wear glitter eyeliner every day.

And wear a miniskirt when I'm 70.

I want to lay on the beach and completely cover myself in sand.

I want to take a bubble bath that completely obscures me...so many bubbles that you'd think I slipped down the drain.

I want ruby red slippers, without having a house fall on me to get them.

I want to wear a ball gown that is frothy and sparkly and glimmery.

I want to play Hot Lava on the new play structure at the park. And then have it transform into a Peter Pan flying pirate ship destined for Alpha Centauri!

I want to gather all the blankets and pillows in the house and create the biggest fort ever imagined - with popcorn and hot cocoa.

I DON'T want to fold up all those blankets or vacuum up the popcorn.

I want to be a princess, that kicks ass...that fights her battles on roller skates, with a poking stick in one hand and a cast iron skillet in the other - because both of them will leave SUCH a mark - in a tulle skirt with a satin embroidered bodice...and tiara. A modern version of the new Snow White and the Huntsman....but without the huntsman, 'cause I'm a big girl and can take care of myself. Plus, I doubt that a huntsman would appreciate having to wear roller skates and a tiara into battle. If he only knew that REAL men don't mind being bedazzled.

"Why," you ask, "did you create such a list?"

Because...is how I'll answer.

Because...someone will read it and it will make them happy.

Because...then they'll start imagining their own list.

Because...an imagination is a terrible thing to keep locked up in side ones brain.

Just...

Because...

My Nook

2012-01-05T10:12:00.000-08:00

I'd like a nook.

Not the one you read with, but one you read IN.

While sitting on the love-seat in my family room last night (reading to keep up with my 2012 challenge), my mind started drifting - as is often the case - toward all things cozy, cottage-like and small.

My house isn't large, sitting at just under 1,700 sq. ft. Yet, sometimes it feels huge, other times (while de-cluttering) I could swear it balloons to the Taj Mahal.

Anyway...I decided to light the half dozen candles that sit near the fireplace (which is never used for anything other than burning candles once a year) and then decided to light all the other candles I had sitting out...rounding up to a full dozen.

It completely changed the mood.

And then....

Then...I started envisioning my reading space. Or gazing space. Whichever.

A reading nook that holds a window. There is an oversize chaise and small side table that holds a jar of pens and a notebook which sits ready to collect my bloggy thoughts and ideas. Next to it my drink of choice at the moment (coffee, tea, wine, whiskey...enough space to hold all four cups/glasses depending on the type of day I've had)

The alcove is secluded, with gauzy draperies that stand watch at the gate between reality and the world where time stops and there is nothing but window gazing and turning pages.

Chilly days require the handmade lap quilt lovingly made by a friend (hint, hint...anyone?) that envelops me in warmth. It's a crazy quilt, mis-matched patters and quirky colors. My personality sewn into it...it's me. And it's heavy, weighted like the quilts of olden times.

When dark comes my space is lit by a small, delicate lamp that sits above my head and casts just enough light to read. The chair side table just big enough to hold a few small candles. When my eyes need a break from reading I'll gaze at these candles who, just for me, will start to shimmy and dance - a little show during my reading intermission.

Now, if I really had my way, this space would be in my Gypsy wagon. I have it all designed and planned out. I just need to convince Hubbypants to build it for me...in the backyard...with electricity.

I have more imaginary spaces and perhaps I'll share them sometime.

What about you?

Do you have a space that lives in your imagination?

Challenge Me - A Book Awaits

2012-01-03T21:52:00.000-08:00

It's January...let the challenge(s) begin!

Yes, yes...I know that both time and the notion of 'beginnings' are arbitrary things - human constructs that we all agree have some significance, because we say so. In other words, January 1st isn't any better than February 1st or June 1st or any other calendar 1st.

BUT...since I do follow a calendar for most things in my life, the idea of a personal new beginning to go with the start of the new year is very appealing to me.

I'm still working on my 'Resolutions' post - yes I have them and I'm going to share them, later.

THIS POST isn't about resolutions, it's about taking on a challenge. And that challenge is....

books BOOKS bOoKs BOoks boOKS skoob

Any way you look at it, books, books, books!

I have lots of them, too many sitting un-read upon my shelf. They yearn for human touch, to have their pages caressed and for eyes to gaze upon them intently and adoringly.

So, I've decided to do a couple of book challenges.

According to Shelfari (my shelf by the way, come and visit me) I read twenty books in 2010 and twenty-one in 2011. While that isn't too shabby, I do have a lot of time on my hands that is currently spent interwebbing and stalking peeps on Facebook. I have no doubt they'd love to see my energy directed at something other than themselves.

And so, I'm challenging myself to read FORTY books in 2012.

You might be saying to yourself, "Why not just read the books and log them on Shelfari? Why participate in some challenge...what's the point?"

My answer is: Why not? {that's 'cause I'm notorious for answering a question with a question}

The second part of that answer is: Because it is fun to participate in something, commit to it and see how far I let it take me. It gives me something to work toward. I'm beholden to no one but myself. If I don't read 40 books, but instead read 35...I'm OK with it, because I tried. And hey...what if I read 45? I don't know what I can do unless I TRY to do it. And, of course, it will all be tracked on my Shelfari page.

This won't be the first time I've challenged myself with books.

Several years ago I received a book as part of a Secret Santa exchange, the book was The Red Tent.

Let me just say that anything biblical was NOT my cup of tea. Or coffee. Or...you get the picture.

And since I figured it would be insulting to not make an *attempt* to read it (despite the giver never knowing whether I had or not), I decided I would give it a go and TRY it. Just a few pages, that's all I was going to commit myself. Lucky for me I was immediately sucked in and I loved it.

A short time later I was given, anonymously...again, The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio.

A memoir? Are you kidding me? I was the paranormal-crappy-lit queen. Plus, this was a time when my kids were in pre-school and what stay-at-home-mom of little kids has time to read? Before these two books I hadn't picked up bound pieces of paper with typed letters on it since before my first child was born. Glossy pages, magazine articles half a page long...that was all I could muster.

But these two books...they changed everything.

And so...a door was opened and a genre barrier was broken.

I am still NOT a fan of romance novels or courtroom dramas or police/investigative/mystery novels or SciFi/Fantasy (maybe a little bit, but I like it mixed with reality). But, if someone were to recommend a great read from any of these genres then I'd dip my toes in and give it a TRY. I'll read practically anything...mostly. And I did. I've since read a variety of books, many in fact...and I've a taste for MORE!

Thus...the challenge.

There are dozens of them out there right now. I decided to check out Novel Challenges based on this BlogHer post by Sassymonkey. There are several posts with links to various challenges on the Novel Challenges page.

I will say this, it is easy to get sucked in to wanting to do a handful of the challenges. I want to read more historical fiction and there are short story challenges, contemporary fiction, reading novels from various parts of the world...the list goes on! There is a swirling vortex of possibility - so much to read and just 365 to read it all!

But I'm limiting myself to two:

Off The Shelf

AND.....

Get Steampunked

The first is a challenge to read what is already on my shelf. Heh...what a concept, right? I've already posted pictures of my To-Read shelf, which now includes a couple of NEW books. Great fiction, just sitting there...longing for me to hold it. The second is steampunk. I've heard much of this new-ish (to me) genre and I'm ready to dive in. Victorian era charm with a bit of a futuristic twist - Bring. It. On! You can read a bit more about it here.

Each challenge has different levels of achievement. I can read as little as 1-3 or as much as my little heart desires! It's up to me.

For the steampunk challenge I'm going with Geared, which is 5 books.

Off The Shelf is harder, because I have so many, many, many...to choose from. My goal is Make-A-Dint, which is 30 books.

I'm starting off the year with a library book, A Discovery of Witches. I'd requested it before I found out about the challenges. My next read will be The Poisonwood Bible, which I'll be reading with Laine from The Laine List. I like the idea of reading along with someone, to discuss the book - or, as will likely be the case at times - lament how we've gotten too busy to pick up the book and how we've fallen behind on reading. Eh...I'm OK with that, too. I'm just thrilled that Laine will be doing it along with me!

So, there you go. My challenge made public.

How about you? Want to tag along...officially or unofficially?

Let me know in the comments below!

Let's get our READ on, baby.

p.s.
This is a very LINK heavy post, be sure to clicky the red linky for more info-y.

2012, Please Hold.

2012-01-02T11:22:00.000-08:00

Hello!

Welcome to 2012, Day 2.

My world is going to stand still for just one more day, the last day of school vacation.

I've got some ideas for future blog posts, some resolutions to bring to life, goals to meet and an ever present, constantly growing, To-Do list that needs tackling.

But all of it is going to wait, just one more day - so that time can take a break from its insistent marching.

Happy New Year!

Banning the Tick Tock Today

2011-12-29T13:13:00.000-08:00

The clock tells me it's 12:17 p.m. I knit my eyebrows together and frown, because the boxy construct of time is meaningless today. I refuse to feel as if it applies to me.

Not today it doesn't.

It's easy to do, get bogged down by the 'should have' of time, as in not wasting it. The should NOT have' stayed up until 3am reading or should have gotten up earlier than 10am and should get something accomplished.

Meh.

And phooey.

This is the last Thursday of my kid's vacation from school - the cusp of routine, responsibility and normalcy are breathing down our necks.

And I don't want any of that creeping in on my day.

We all slept late, including the extra teenager I acquired yesterday, a friend of the Girl Child. She likes to eat, so she was allowed to sleep inside and not out with the critters of the night. I'm a kind and benevolent host, I am.

My house now smells of bacon, cheesy eggs and sesame bagels with drippy butter. This is holiday food, or weekend food...whichever.

And so, breakfast is consumed when most people are finishing lunch.

The T.V. is on and we watch as Wile E. Coyote strikes out, yet again, in his quest for roasted Road Runner. Bugs is being the ever present bane of Yosemite Sam's existence and Tweety is shaking his tail feathers at Sylvester all the while the Boy Child giggles and I comment on the admirable tenacity of Mr. Coyote - you really have to admire his commitment.

Going to the movies to see Mission Impossible is being tossed around, but if I look up the showings then I'll start hearing the tick-tock, the creeping in of slavery to the numbers that tell us when we 'should' do whatever it is we want/need to do .

Sigh...I guess it is inevitable.

And, I guess that a slave to movie showings isn't exactly like the blaring reality of school starting again soon. So, I'll check the times and we'll be there as we 'should'.

While I'm at it, I might as well put on my rose colored glasses because with the new year comes the downhill slide toward summer vacation - when time stands still, at least for a day or two, until the "I'm Bored" starts and a whole different kind of 'we should go to...' enters our lives.

I wish you all a tick-tock free moment in your day (or a whole day, if you can manage).

Peace.

Emerging from the Vacay Haze!

2011-12-28T10:30:00.001-08:00

It's the Wednesday before the New Year, which means my kids are on vacation and, at 10:30 a.m, still asleep.

It's also two weeks to the day since I last updated this blog.

I don't really know why.

Partly due to preparing for our trip to Las Vegas, which is woefully lacking pictures...I just kept forgetting to bring my camera.

And partly because of my dreaded funk - which I'm going to ignore and not discuss.

What I will say of my trip is this:

This was one of the best family trips we've had in a long time. A.K.A...the eye rolling, angst ridden, sassypants 13yro girl child was a dream and a pleasure to be around. And, the cusp of 16 boy child was, after the first night, highly agreeable as well. There are times I miss the little people they used to be, especially during a teen hormonal moment, but walking and chatting with an almost adult that I birthed oh so long ago (which funny enough feels like yesterday) is a strange and wonderful thing.

And also sad.

These moments are not only fleeting, but I only have so many of them left. Sixteen will soon be 18 and with it college friends, trips, jobs, life that will pull our kids further away. The 13yro is already a rabid social butterfly who is rarely home - 18 is going to come with a whole new set of freedoms. Hubbypants and I have only so much time to experience the emerging adult, before they actually become one. As frustrating as this process is, these dreadful teenage years, it is fascinating watching their personalities and humor develop...as much as they frustrate me, they make me laugh and amaze me with their knowledge.

Trips like this also remind me of how much I dislike living so far away from my side of the family. Boo.

And now that the travel is over for a bit and we are rapidly approaching that wicked beast known as Routine...already????....it is also the signal that shit needs to start getting done up in here! Oy, the clutter...and stuff...and clutter...and when did we become hoarders? Alright, it isn't that bad...but really, stuff has got to go!

And so, the Resolutions list is born.

Now, before you go and tell me that you don't make resolutions, but instead you "make goals" or "strategic plans" or start "think about how you want to be/what you want to accomplish"...please understand that all you are doing is using many more letters to achieve the same thing, RESOLUTIONS.

Dictionary.com has this to say about 'resolutions':

1) a resolve or determination: to make a firm resolution to do something. AND

2) the act of resolving or determining upon an action or course of action, method, procedure, etc.

If you must change it up because you have some issue with the word RESOLUTIONS (which, I used to...so I understand), then go ahead. But, at the same time, please remember that if you are making an agreement with yourself to try and accomplish something, then you are...indeed...resolving to do it. 'nuf said....

My own RESOLUTIONS list isn't complete. It won't be giant, I won't be setting myself up for failure...it will be a list of things that are achievable if I work at it. A list of items that will only make me healthier, happier and life more fulfilling. I'll share them with you soon.

Now for the pictures, because while this is a Wednesday full of words, it still needs pictures.

This is the last remaining Thank You card from a set I got several years ago. I can't bring myself to part with it. It does, after all, have Pooh and Piglet on it. How could I possibly part with it? Yet, why do I need to hang on to it? I figure if I keep it, then it will never be tossed into the recycle bin (while I'm still alive). Weird, I know...but you pretty much expect that from me...right?

See, even the envelope is fancy schmancy with gold interior and heavy paper stock.

I have post cards that are tired of living with me. They want to see the world, or at least parts of the U.S. of A. So, they will be inscribed and set free, soon.

My sister-in-law gave me tools to communicate in a much prettier way

than just through my keyboard.

And then, there is the wax seal. I love the concept - a decorative seal to hold in all the love & gratitude written upon the pretty paper inside. Simple glue strips on the back of envelopes do not do justice. Now, the quest is to find a seal with an M on it...for Me, Myself and Moi...plus Melissa and Mom <==== Which is me, by the way.

That's it.

A rather lackluster re-introduction after my 2 week break.

I suspect I will not be writing regularly until the kids are back in school next week...and then watch out! Sheeee'lllll be baaaaaaaack. {said in my best Johnny from the Shining}

p.s.
PSA - we only get one New Year, so when you scream out at midnight to wish the crowd around you much happiness, it is isn't "Happy New Year's" or similar without the apostrophe...it's just HAPPY NEW YEAR...without the 's'. Yes, it's a pet peeve of mine. You can say New Year's Eve and if you need to ask why, then just never you mind.

p.p.s.
HAPPY NEW YEAR and may you stay safe during your NEW YEAR'S EVE celebrations.

Hum a little tune

2011-12-14T23:12:00.000-08:00

Busy, busy, busy today!

So, because I don't have time to contemplate

and edit

the post I wanted to do today, I'm giving you

YES YOU

this.

You lucky ducky!

Music...oh, that which hath charms to soothe the savage beast.

I cannot begin to name all the songs I adore and feel compelled to belt out whenever they grace the airwaves. There are just too many!

But, if I were to whittle down to just a tiny few that had specific meaning, I'd pick the following.

Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers

This is a special song I share with Hubbypants. It was our first 'together' song, the one we would dance to in our small townhouse, even before we were an official couple. It will always have a special place in my heart (and...for the record, I liked it WAY before it appeared in the movie Ghost).

The Power of Love by Jennifer Rush

This is officially 'OUR' song. No one else can have it. And, if you insist, you can have the Celine Dion version. She did a fine job, but THIS version is the one I share with Hubbypants. Your ears can borrow it, by listening to it here...but you can't have it. The video however, yeah...you can have that.

Everything I Do by Bryan Adams

This was our first dance song played at our wedding. There is an extended version of it that we tortured the wedding party with. We opted for this song, over Power of Love, because it was more danceable. We did play the Power of Love later at the reception (this is where you say "awww" with a goofy grin. Yes...yes...we are so cute & romantic. {goofy grin}

And finally, the most lovable, snugglyable, pinchable, cuddlyable,

and precious bear that ever existed.

I would sing both of these songs, in an endless loop,

as I rocked my children...for hours...to help them sleep.

This could explain a lot...as to why my children turned out the way they did.

Moving on...

My list of favorite songs is ever changing. There are so many greats, that it would be hard to pick just a few. But none of my past, present or future favorites will ever replace these in my heart.

Do you have that one (or 5) special song(s) that brings back great memories?

And, just because I said so, let's make it only fond memories...the ones that make you smile when you sing along.

Peace!

Words For Another Day

2011-12-14T14:40:00.000-08:00

A Place for Everything

2011-12-13T09:42:00.000-08:00

Let's discuss the idea of everything having a place and therefore everything should be in its place.

Is this sounding like some sort of causality dilemma, much akin to that of the chicken or egg?

I'm looking at several 'orgainizing' sites and the pictures are so pretty. Its the kind of pretty where you move closer and stroke the monitor to be nearer the orderly shiny prettiness of it all - tears welling up in your eyes. The possibility of being surrounded by such neatness bordering on orgasmic.

The home that looks like a magazine spread, it CAN be yours!

As
long
as
everything
is
in
its
place.

What the organizing bloggy folk don't tell you is where the hell that place is!

I don't have enough place for all my stuff! I have stuff upon stuff, much of it paper stuff! The tree carnage in my house is horrifying - all those poor dead trees...stop the insanity!

Where are the signs that say, "Put X stuff here"? Is there a secret society I need to join to get the answers to where everything goes? Is there some Big Brother organization that can satellite zoom into my house and create a code map of all my stuff and where that stuff is supposed to reside, along with labels (and perhaps a picture for those of us that are a bit slower on the uptake)? If so, then I want in! I'll do whatever it takes! Oh, and I will try not to blog nekkid anymore, my apologies to the folks who monitor that satellite feed.

Part of me secretly hopes this is all some sort of Matrixy reality where I'm actually laying in a pool of goo and images are being fed to me through wires and tubes.

And if that is the case, then...really? The Powers That Be couldn't have given me the Pottery Barn program, they had to give me the Trailer Park version instead. Did I piss them off in a past life? And, if this is some Matrix existence, is it even possible to have a past life? Are there even Chickens and Eggs in the Matrix?

Whoever is in control of my reality, please fix it and somebody please show me where the place is for my everything so that everything can be in its place!

Do you sit and stare dreamily at organizing sites?

And then do you look around your own house and burst into tears?

Yeah, me either....um....

Spread the link love and let me know your favorite

"Everything it its place..." sites.

p.s.
Today's post brought to you via 1 cup of coffee.

p.p.s.
Of which contained a giant Bailey's Failed Marshmallow.

p.p.p.s.
And stop shaking your head and whispering, "That explains a lot", because I can hear you!!!

p.p.p.p.s.
{not really}

p.p.p.p.p.s.
And no, I'm not going to discuss the failed marshmallow attempt. It's too painful.

The Business of Being a Business.

2011-12-12T11:46:00.000-08:00

"TAKE A NUMBER, WILL YA!!!"

I scream this, out loud, to myself - directing my angst at the many hundreds of thoughts hurtling though my head. Or, maybe it's the many thousands -they move so quickly it's hard to count.

Ideas launch like fireworks in my brain, where they sparkle and glow, seeming infinitely possible. Then the embers descend back toward reality. They cool and fade, quietly tucking themselves in to what could have been.

I'm not an entrepreneur by nature. Not even by design, if I'm to be honest. I think I WANT to be one out of necessity, because the thought of a 'real job' is terrifying.

If I were to truly dig deep, I'd find that the root to potential career happiness will be in creating something. Or, rather...creating something that provides a service, of sorts, that makes people happy.

My ideas aren't original, they've been done (and perhaps over done), but they stick with me because I like the romantic notion of earning a living through creativity.

The problem with my own business is (besides not being particularly creative):
1) I'm easily overwhelmed by the logistics & research of starting a business.
2) Dismal follow through skills
3) Having a viable (a.k.a. NOT whimsical) idea.

I like thinking up things, submerging myself in the possibilities - the offerings if you will - while ignoring the nuts and bolts of what it takes to make a business work - as in, the actual W.O.R.K. part of it.

I tried selling home products through Southern Living. I was actually pretty good at the party thing and talking about the products, but decorating? Nope. And, I had a hard time really getting into it because I finally just saw the items as more clutter - more things to dust and store! My business didn't last long.

I found a recipe for making homemade vanilla, complete with ideas to package it as nifty little gifts. My mind leapfrogged to wondering how I could make enough to sell at a farmers market, undercutting the "gourmet" versions sold in traditional markets. I see you laughing...I know, right?

Last week while in the shower, where ALL my ideas hit, I came up with The Cuppa Mobile (more laughing...just you wait until you hear the rest). In my area, as is true of many large cities, gourmet food trucks are becoming all the rage. My idea was for a small van/truck that sells cups of stuff...like coffee, tea, cocoa, soup, oatmeal...whatever comes in a cup....all homemade and delicious (on most days). This is where you start comparing me to the professor who invents Flubber.

And now, I fantasize about creating food-stuff gifts. Things like homemade hot cocoa mixes, with hand crafted marshmallows (because I had oh so much luck with the first batch I made - major NOT). Basically, creating a business that services the local community where a client calls/texts/emails to request a gift be delivered to someone. Maybe even supply employee appreciation gifts at larger companies, this being Silicon Valley and all. Or...oh!!!...creating a new home-made gift-of-the-month. One month vanilla, then vanilla sugar, hot cocoa, chai mix...see? Great idea, but feasible...not so much. The allure wears off quickly.

And, finally...a Girl Friday. I've thought about something like this for years, but a friend of mine has actually gone and done it. I'm thrilled for her, she is awesome and I wish her much success. She has that get up & go mentality and went for it. Me...not so much.

Again, it's all in the planning and figuring out the details, but the actual process of getting it off the ground is where I falter.

I guess, upon reading and editing the above, I am closer related to the daft inventor than an entrepreneur. Although, that isn't even true because I really didn't 'create' any of these ideas...they are borrowed from ideas others have created and actually done.

Being a stay-at-home mom has been great. I cannot even begin to express how fortunate I am to have been able to do it the last 13 years. But now my kids are older and I'm stuck. I cannot go back into an office, I'm sure it will kill me D.E.D.dead within hours of setting foot inside a cubicle...probably even minutes. But I'm ready to earn money. I'm ready to contribute to anything that will allow my family to travel and not put things off because we can't afford it.

Perhaps I should go take a shower and see if I can come up with some new ideas.

What about you?

Are you doing what you want to do?

Or, are you existing through what you have to do?

If you could create an ideal business, what would it be?

(Disclaimer: there is a chance I'll borrow that idea, just so you know.

But, if you've read this post closely you'll know that little will get done with it).

The Weight of it All...

2011-12-07T14:39:00.000-08:00

Yesterday She wrote:

Every day She tries rolling the boulders off of her. The days when they are round are easier.

But lately it seems She got stuck with the square ones. They are so heavy, sitting there perfectly balanced, flattening her and stealing her breath with their straight, immovable sides.

She drags herself and the pesky boulders to meet a friend for coffee where she's innocently asked, "How are you doing with your depression?"

The boulders start to feel heavier, and push her a little deeper into the Earth, but she replies,

"Oh, I'm doing fine."

The boulders splinter and multiply.

"I'm doing fine."

She looks at the last page of the calendar, the end of a year arriving without her permission.

"...doing fine."

All of those things she wanted to do, still left undone.

"...fine."

Paralyzed, buried deeper. More boulders.

"..."

"For crying out loud", she screams, "will somebody please get these boulders off of me. I can't breathe!!" Then the weight becomes too much, the boulders too heavy and they reduce her to dust, scattering her plea into the wind.

****

Today She (as in Me) tries to bring it into context, but as I sit here with my hands poised over the keyboard, the words are waging war with each other in my head over who will be first to ride an electrical impulse down my arm and manipulate the keys, thus springing to life on this page.

I've started this post a number of times already this morning, and I'm afraid my _backspace_key is going to report me for abuse. I'm sorry _backspace_, I'm a little frustrated and didn't meant to take my aggression out on you.

If I were to succumb to a stream of consciousness and just write until I collapse then this is what might result:

What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I sitting here looking at my calendar and wondering where the year went? Why is it that December is upon me, arriving without my permission and demanding to know why the hell I wasted an entire year of my life? Why is it that all my thoughts are jagged pieces of glass that don't fit together, as if they were collected from someone else and put into my brain? They don't fit...they aren't mine!! They don't listen to me when I ask them to be specific, to be cohesive and organized. Why can't I shake this funk, feeling down and seeing in shades of blue instead of the rosy hue I love so much? Why can't I remove myself from this chair, this house and accomplish something? Should I take the doctor up on her offer for a small dose of Ritalin, will it help me find my own thoughts? Will medication motivate me to go back to school? Why is going back to school suddenly so horrifying and the last possible thing I want to do? When will I stop avoiding mirrors and the hateful dialog in my head? Will medication help that? Will it stop me from being paralyzed by all the things I want to accomplish and keep me from shutting down and doing nothing? What will stop the bickering between my rational and irrational brain? Why can't I shake this blue feeling? Why can't I like myself or cut myself some slack? Maybe, because that's ALL I've been doing lately. When...WHEN...will I stop disengaging and start participating in this whole fucking LIFE thing? Enough already! And yes, I said 'fuck' twice (now 3 times), because it's a very fuck-fuck-fuckity-fuckit sort of dialog going on in my head and I just want it to stop harassing me! Fuck! I'm just so wrung out and deflated and exhausted and tired and angry at myself and frustrated and...fed up with my own whining.

So, apparently ^^^THIS^^^is what results when I give in and just write what is happening inside my brain. She (as in Me) cannot fathom how Mind Over Matter Girl has become a prisoner of her own self.

I can't figure out how to end this post. I keep assaulting my_backspace_ button. So, I'll just end here and take some satisfaction that the words can now battle it out here, giving my head some time to figure out how to make my thoughts get in line and behave.

Peace!

Wordless Wednesday 9: And the Next Book Is....

2011-12-07T12:06:00.001-08:00

{Click to enlarge image for easy reading!}

Celebrate good times, COME ON!

2011-12-05T10:28:00.001-08:00

I bet you'll NEVER guess what today is.

Here are some clues.

I'm kidding, I know y'all are super smart and have already figured out that it is International Celebrate Melissa, The Queen of All that is Glorious and Blingy and Sparkly and Joyful (Unless You Fail To Bring Her Coffee) Day.

Some people just say 'birthday'. When I'm Ruler of the Universe and Planet Earth they'll soon realize the error of their ways and make it up to me with chocolate, coffee, all things shiny and yummy and then I will only make them stay in the dungeon for a mere 2 months - because I'm going to be a most kind and benevolent Queen.

My wonderful and favorite Hubbypants hand-crafted cards for me every day since Dec. 1st. I would find them in various spots through the house, except for the one day when I stood with hands on hips, foot tapping, and asked "So, uh...where's day 3?" Fortunately it was right next to him on the nightstand, which means he'll only spend a week in the dungeon and not a whole month.

"Dear Madre" is from my daughter, who took one semester of French...go figure. She won't be doing any time in the dungeon, because moisture just wreaks havoc on her hair. But, she gets toilet cleaning duty every day for a month. Not because she was naughty, just because it's my birthday month and I don't want to do it...and I'm Queen.

The Bourne Trilogy card, ON BLUE-RAY ya'll...jealous much??, is from my son. Amazon, according to him, is a ginormous pewp-head and will not be delivering my gift in time to celebrate International Celebrate Melissa, The Queen of All that is Good and Glorious and Blingy and Sparkly and Joyful (Unless You Fail To Bring Her Coffee) Day. He's been bitching about it for a week - I'll only send him to the dungeon for a couple of days, seein' as how he's so broken up about Amazon not delivering on my special day.

I'd send Amazon to the dungeon, but it isn't big enough...yet. Watch yourself, Amazon...I'm calling a construction crew RIGHT NOW!

My weekend was spectacular. My Sister-in-Law bought me cutest apron, complete with polka dots and cupcakes! She WILL NOT be visiting the dungeon.

I spent my Saturday with her & Daughter strolling the streets surrounding Union Square in San Francisco, which was all dressed up in its holiday finest.

Disclaimer: It isn't your vision, these images ARE fuzzy.

Stupid cell phone.

Below is the view from our table in the Nordstrom Cafe,

where I sat blissfully sipping my ginger Manhattan.

And enjoying a most delicious pumpkin cheesecake,

with some pecan-ginger crunchy goodness and

vanilla ice cream and cranberry glaze and...

I want a birthday EVERY weekend!

Just one of the many things I love about San Francisco,
the Big & Small of it.

Then on Sunday, ~~I forced~~..um.. ~~I commanded~~...um...my family willing and gleefully accompanied me to the Dickens Fair. What a fun event! Because this is my birthday post and it's all about me, you'll just have to click the link above to read more about the fair. I'm just going to show you what I bought!

My new ~~weapon of mass destruction~~ pen!

It's very sharp and pointy...on both ends.

I didn't even have to go through a background check!

Like duh, 'cause it's not really a weapon. {yet}

You dip the grooved glass tip into the ink

then pretend you are in Victorian times

writing to tell your lover of the new clandestine meeting location.

Or...about how cool glass pens and Velicorns are.

Pickles the Cat was overseeing the production.

And that about sums it up. Oh, wait!

I also wanted to thank BlogHer for featuring (is that the right word) my Super Powers post under their "What's New" section on their main page. I was actually on the front page today (well...I'm not any more, 'cause there are other new & awesome posts there too..but I was, for a bit, front page news!). It was a coincidence that it happened to be today.

And, with my super powers post in mind...

So, if I ever bitch and moan about anything, point me back to this post to remind me how extraordinarily wonderful my life really is.

Happy Birthday....TO ME! :-)

p.s.
Who's in charge of my cake? Can I have pie instead?

p.p.s.
And if you bring whipped cream I'll erase your name from my dungeon list!

Find-Schmind, Create It Instead!

2011-12-04T05:00:00.000-08:00

Many of us, at one time or another, may have uttered the words:

"I need to find myself."

Spoken in an effort to figure out who we are, where we need to go in life and what we are destined to do once we get there.

As I've grappled with my own discovery of self over a number of years, I find the whole phrase "finding myself" to be hogwash.

The phrase suggests (at least to me and possibly ONLY to me) that we've been predestined for something and that my "Who" and "What" are in the hands of someone else - as in, out of my control.

I'm not a believer in Fate or Destiny, although I have been known to use the words a time or twelve. But, I don't really buy into the concept.

If life were about 'finding self', then all we need to do is embark on a little road trip to hunt down that Other Self, maybe even with some rope and duct tape (scratch that - different road trip). The possibilities are endless, what if that Other Self is already a doctor, lawyer, teacher, writer, magician, chef, dinosaur wrangler (please see my brand new "Who Me?" page for further explanation)?

Finding self would imply discovering a complete package. It means 'finding' what you are good at and then going for it! Who hasn't taken one of those Myers-Briggs personality tests? See what I mean, now?

But, what if what you are good at isn't the Other Self you were hoping it would be? What if your Other Self really aspires to something it will likely be mediocre at, or - possibly - terrible at? Like being a writer and using poor grammar and ending sentences with prepositions and too many 'ands'.

Maybe you've always had the Other Self inside, leaving hints and a bread trail toward who you want to be. I'm not one of those people, or...my inner self was using cookies instead of bread and then just ate them all instead.

"Life isn't about finding yourself. It is about CREATING yourself" (unknown) is a card I picked up to send to a friend. But I had to share this awesomeness with you, dear reader, because I believe it is a philosophy that needs to sprinkle its pixie dust to the wind and influence a greater number of searchers.

What you may need to do is stop searching and start creating, as an artist would create a masterpiece- only that masterpiece is the Other You. An artist creates, contemplates, changes and tweaks and then often starts the whole process over - re-creating. And if you lean toward the geekier side, then create a version 2.0 of yourself.

Finally, all of this logic only applies to you. Not me. My desire to not have to actually do something to achieve something is far too powerful to fight. My destiny will be to travel in search of my Other Self, while astride my adorable Gypsy wagon - but not a horse drawn one, because I want my future to smell rosy and less like a horses behind.

What do you think?

Want to create the 'self' that you want to be?

Or, will you join me and hunt down our Other Selves,

hog tie them and make them reveal our true calling?

p.s.
I wrote this from the perspective of picking a side, 'creating yourself'. But the more I think about it, it's likely that 'finding' and 'creating' are really the same damn thing.

p.p.s.
I don't care, because the post is already written and I'm not re-writing.

p.p.p.s.
There is also a chance it makes little sense. But you've grown to expect that, right?

p.p.p.p.s.
Anyone want to lend me their credit card to go shopping with? Or, I'm happy to accept cash. Tomorrow IS my birthday...after all...

Taffeta, Velicorns and the fight against evil!

2011-12-03T05:00:00.001-08:00

President Snow should watch his back, because if I figure out a way to tele-port myself into my book, he's going to see what it's like when I get my hurt on!

Katniss Everdean needs me. She needs a sister in arms.

I'm going to take my son's bow and arrows with me - instructional deficiencies be damned! If I can fling enough sharp pointy things in the general direction of the bad guy, I am BOUND to hit someone sooner or later. Those that are fighting against the big, bad Capitol meanies along side me might, as a precautionary measure, stay just a few paces behind me until I'm a bit steadier with my aim.

I'm a sucker for apocalyptic stories where people rise up to fight a sadistic regime that takes extreme joy in the pain and suffering of others - they are just such hopeful, uplifting stories, ya know?

And so it is that I've been sucked into The Hunger Games.

(Photo courtesy of My Camera. I'll be happy to share

the rights for the cost of a ginormous cup of coffee...and a danish.

Perhaps even a bottle, or 3, of wine.)

I didn't go kicking and screaming, more like shoving and pushing, because I am a sucker for YA lit. My favorite, so far, has remained How I Live Now by Meg Rossoff. But Hunger Games is a second 1st - sharing the spotlight in other words.

When I was a kid, I used to play Charlies Angels with my friends (that will be enough snickering out of you) and we'd hunt down the bad guys with poser style and flips of the hair! When I grew up a bit more, I started the application process to become a Police Officer. Citizens throughout the county breathed a sigh of relief when I changed my mind about wielding a gun in public.

However, that hasn't stopped me from imagining myself as some kickassknifethrowingarrowhurlingcoolmatirxflipping avenger for greater good.

But in cool outfit.

Who wouldn't want to take on evil hoards in an evening gown? A whirling dervish of taffeta and sparkly sequins designed to blind the enemy long enough to strike. Count. Me. In!!

I think I've digressed, again - it's always so hard to tell when one rambles as much as I do. Where was I going with this post?

Oh, probably to encourage you to read the series and enjoy it as much as I am now. The bad guy is just too evil not to love to despise and Katniss is a 16 year old that you both want hug and shake some sense into.

I've got to get back to reading and plotting the demise of President Snow. You watch yourself Snow, I'm polishing my tiara and I'm comin' for you, even if it is only in my imagination!

p.s.
One of my blog readers needs to write a story about a girl who kicks Evil's ass in a poofy dress. That would just be all kinds of awesome.

p.p.s.
Perhaps, all of the above BUT - she does it after she's been jilted at the prom and she's sucked into her favorite book, something like Hunger Games. Hell hath no fury like teenage girl scorned - watch out bad guys!

p.p.p.s.
Oh, oh...OHHHH - AND THERE NEEDS TO BE VELICORNS!!! Oh...ehM...Gee! Please, someone start writing this story before I wet myself in anticipation.

p.p.p.p.s.
And I don't want to write it. I'm just the idea person. Carry on.

Next!!

2011-12-02T00:30:00.000-08:00

The "To Read" section of my bookshelf threw up all over the dining room table!

O.k. that was an extremely gross analogy.

It was really me that spread the books out in an effort to look artistic...

not pukey.

My apologies if you were reading this over breakfast.

There are about 6 or 7 books that auditioned for a spot in this post

but I just wasn't 'feeling' them, so I cast them

aside like yesterdays coffee grounds

to draw attention to these few

little gems that are just

begging to be

read.

Here

is where you

come in and give me

a hand in selecting the next

couple of books that I should read.

If you see a book in this list that you've already

read, and would recommend, then please comment below.

^^^Wow...I'm good^^^

And don't forget, you can click on the image to enlarge!!

In case you are interested, there are 28.

I own these.

Some have been on my shelf for a year

or more.

And, I keep ordering books through the library.

Don't ask me why.

But, if you are a reader,

you'll already know the answer.

Because then you'll be just like me.

Lucky You!

Peace

The Land of Almost

2011-12-01T00:30:00.000-08:00

The word _almost_ means (roughly): very nearly; all but..

My life has been full of very nearly. As has every one, I imagine.

In recent years I was approached by a professor to work on a special project, one that would require writing about art and then submitting for publication. This professor had selected two students that she said, "I really want to work with". You can, no doubt, imagine my excitement and trepidation - because there is my whole issue with confidence.

But she had selected me. As in M and E.

ME.

And then that was it. Project fizzled without even being inflated.

Was it me? Or, was it as she said, just not good timing - she was just too busy?

You'll say the latter. But, what if it was the former? What if she re-thunk it? Which, can you blame her - I did just use "re-thunk" after all...perhaps she had a premonition of my proclivity to make up words?

But I'm over it. I've moved on. I only brought it up as an example.

What??

Fast forward to now, or a few weeks ago from now (OK, maybe it was structuring sentences like this one that put the professor off?) and I'm approached by someone to syndicate a previous post of mine.

So, Melissa dredges up the old excitement again and thinks, "Maybe? This time? You think?" As is typical, I was sure this person had mistaken my post for something written by someone else. But...she DID reference my title, so...*maybe* this was real?

And then there is an exchange of emails and tweaking of things on the site to allow me to submit the post - the reality of real-ness sets in.

Then nothing.

And so I'm left to wonder: Did she have a sudden stroke of reality and decide it was NOT the post she thought? Was it poo-poo'd by others? Or, am I on the "To-Contact" list of a very busy person who will eventually contact me and I need to not be such a worry-wart pest? I'm fine with the latter, because that is life in the working world and priorities need to be set (and I can be a bit of a pest...I just see it as being, um, persistent).

What if it isn't the later? What if it was the former? Again...

And so, I am tucking these experiences away and sending them off to live in the land of Almost to (hopefully) eventually fade from memory (and with my memory, that should be blissfully soon).

What "Almost" do you carry with you?

Have you all but made peace with it?

Or, have you really made peace?

**UPDATE**

This post was written yesterday and scheduled

to publish early this morning. I had to RUSH in

and stop it because:

SHE EMAILED ME!

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

She still wants to schedule my post

To be seen by people.

Living, breathing...ALIVE people

M...E.

Me!!!

And so, it would seem,

I'm ALMOST there....
Stay tuned.

Fare Thee Well, November NaBloPoMo...Now Scram!

2011-11-30T00:30:00.000-08:00

It's here.

NaBloPoMo is over.

Fini. Kaput. The End.

And just to mess with ya...

I'm playing with the alignment

And sort of making myself dizzy.

You are SOOO ready for me to ~~go away~~ take a break now. Ain't ya?

In reality, it is only the November NaBloPoMo that is over.

There will be more, December for example.

.emit ym etsaw yletelpmoc ot ytiliba dnuoforp a dna slliks tnemeganam emit on yletulosba evah I esuaceb ,sdrawkcab gnipyt m'I won dnA

(Translation if you are gonna get all lazy: And now I'm typing backwards, because I have absolutely no time management skills and a profound ability to completely waste my time.)

Now you really need a break from me, huh?

I have my post all ready for tomorrow, Dec. 1st - which kicks off my birthday month.

You heard me

M.O.N.T.H.

In all seriousness, which I am capable of at random intervals, but of which isn't predictable and thus hard to capture on camera and can't be used against me - wait, that's another topic...never mind.

But seriously, this adventure in daily blogging was loads of fun. It has shown me that I am capable of so much more if I could just rein in the quirky and focus...FOCUS...on producing something 'real'. Fortunately for me I've decided that I don't always like living in real reality and will continue with as much randomness as possible, which I will let it dance a nekkid jig with quirky. I believe I excel at that. I also have no real idea of what I just said and suspect it makes little sense.

But there ya have it.

(and this isn't a link, I just like pink and I rhyme).

So, tomorrow's post is scheduled and I'll be taking the day off - after I post it everywhere that is: Twitter, Facebook, Starbucks community board, bathroom stall at the mall, G+, yo mama's backside, BlogHer, etc.

While I'm taking a break,
I will probably dig into my box of goodies...

And send out a few cards.

Because, Blogging and Email and Facebook and Twitter and And And And...

Cannot possibly duplicate the feeling of getting something addressed to YOU in the mail.
Next to talking face to face I believe it is the sincerest form of communication.
Anything that takes time to hand write...
Stuff in an envelope...
Address said envelope...
Then LICK *gag* to seal
Affix a stamp...
And then drive to the post office 'cause you missed the damn letter carrier!!
Is a helluva lot more personal than anything else.
So there.
And
Peace

p.s.

Hey, I'm over here!

p.p.s.

No, I'm not on medication.

p.p.p.s.

Or, inebriated. Yet.

p.p.p.p.s.

Almost there, Jane.

p.p.p.p.p.s.

WOO-HOO! That was for you, Jane.

I had to count out the right # of p's.

Just like you specified.

My head hurts from typing on this side.

And all the p's.

p.p.p.p.p.p.s.

You should see all the red squigly lines.

My spell check does NOT like backwards stuff.

p(+6).s.

Fini.

They're Here! But maybe not.

2011-11-29T08:38:00.001-08:00

The last two mornings have slithered in carrying cold, wet, sun obscuring fog on its back. An ordinary observer would just think this is 'weather', but I fear something more sinister.

I recently finished the 2nd book in _The Strain_ trilogy, wherein a Vampire "Master" creates a race of Vamps to take over the planet a la Hitler Nazi style - complete with "camps" for the "cattle" (and I don't mean beef). In order to propagate their existence, the sun needs to get with the program and stop making regular appearances...or, at least, shorten its visits. So, the vampire minions go forth and blow stuff up (nuclear plants & such) to cause a filter of sorts to spread across the globe - viola, instant vampire sunscreen.

I dare say that you too would be mildly alarmed to wake, two days in a row, to perfect Vampire frolicking weather. Those bastards could be out there, just beyond the shadow-line of fog, waiting for the word from "Master" to round up them thar humans and stockpile us for winter!

I know, I know...I've written about Zombies in the past and I am not ruling them out. For all I know they are in cahoots and will take up the slack and round up the humans that the swifter moving Vamps missed. I imagine no self respecting Vamp would waste their talents on the geriatric walker strutting crowd, best to leave that chase to the Zombies. It's probably even entertaining for the Vamps, watching the sloth like Zombies gain on the old folks shuffling along like a heard of turtles.

I've come to peace with the possibility this could be my last day at a human, but I'm not going without a fight. Last night I filled up my gas tank and this morning I'm jacking myself up on caffeine and Lucky Charms - because they're lucky, right? All those damn horseshoes and rainbows and shit ought to bring me some good fortune. And if you think about it, who the hell wants healthy oatmeal or fruit for their last meal?

I'm also planning on drinking the last of the Egg Nog WITH. WHIPPED. CREAM. In a non Vamp/Zombie infested scenario, that sort of decadence borders on a sexual experience. But in this case, I figure I'll need the calories to fend off the first wave of attack.

My advice to y'all is to start limbering up, you don't want to get a cramp right in the mild of the melee.

Every battle scene needs musical accompaniment and I choose Axel.

What about you?

How will you prepare for the end of the world?

What song will lead you into the frey?

If you don't hear from me tomorrow, the last day of the November NaBloPoMo, then you know they got me. Remember me...avenge me!

Peace & Kick some Vambie ass!

p.s.
No, this is NOT a ploy to get out of having to post on the last day of NaBloPoMo

p.p.s.
Ugh oh...I think they're here!!

p.p.p.s.
Never mind, it was just the cats.

p.p.p.s.t.h.e.s.u.g.a.r.i.s.g.e.t.t.i.n.g.t.o.m.e.
Wouldn't Vambie make a great name for an evil porn star? Or, if Disney remakes Bambie to fit the current Vampire craze...because then when Bambi's mom gets shot, she comes back as the living dead! Wouldn't that be awesome and heart warming! (it wasn't a question, the answer is yes)

I.m.d.o.n.e.n.o.w.

Paying it Forward - Blog Lovin'

2011-11-28T10:30:00.000-08:00

Hello!

Welcome to Long Winded Monday! I'm your host, Melissa...also known as The Girl Who Types Too Much.

Don't let that scare you, because today I'm not only talking about only ME - also known as The Girl Who Is The Center Of Her Own Universe and Possibly The World Of Which She'll Rule Some Day In A Tiara And Sparkly Cape (but who shortens it to Ms. Queen) - I'm pointing out some great ~~minions~~ writers, that you'll really want to check out...that is if I can figure out how to articulate what I'm actually thinking. Hey, do you smell smoke and burning gray matter?

It dawned on me, while trying to organize this post, that during my creation I got in the wrong line when it came time to bestowing organizational skills. Mine are tantamount to a monkey attempting to counsel a hoarder on what to keep or toss all the while saying, "Oooh look! Shiny stuff!" Or, as the monkey might say, "ooo eee uughgugh" {translation might not be exact, go figure that Google doesn't have a translate Simian option}.

In my case, I'm not organizing stuff as much as thoughts.

The reason for putting effort into this post and not just doing my typical fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants writing is that I need - and want - to pay forward some blog love.

Here is why:

Desi at TheValentine4 and The Laine List honored me by bestowing the Versatile Blogger Award and the Kathyrn Ingrid Creativity Award (of which I don't have a snazzy icon because I haven't found one to ~~steal~~ use yet).

And Jane In Her Infinite Wisdom honored me with...

I had to look up what these meant and they are both very similar so I'm tweaking them to fit my needs and desire to Pay It Forward (which by the way was an extremely rude movie for surprising me with such a shitty ending - I still haven't gotten over it *sniff*).

These are the guidelines I followed:

1) "Thanking the person bestowing the honor and linking back to their blog", which I gladly have done. In Desi's case, TheValentine4, she gave me the honor back in early October. I couldn't figure out how to put the icon on my page (still not sure) and so I sort of forgot. But, I'm going to figure it out...I swear! Please visit their blogs, all three of them are incredibly talented writers. The kind of talent where their words sprout fingers that grab you and draw you in. You won't be sorry if you add them to your reading list.

2) "List 7 random things about yourself" - Oh dear. This makes me sweat and feel all hivey and it is much easier to just link back to a post I did with 25 Random Things. Twenty. Five. - it's like twice the goodness, at least in Melissa Math!!

3) "Pass the torch to 15 other bloggers" - My goal is to spotlight writers I aspire to be like. Writers that make me want to write better. As well as bloggers who are just starting out and have big dreams.

Those who've given me awards will see themselves here - please note that it is not in the spirit of reciprocating (meaning: because you awarded me, I'm awarding you back). It is because I truly enjoy everything they have to say, whether I've followed for awhile or just recently. I'm not asking them to go through the whole award process again, I just want to express my admiration for their writing and how much I enjoy reading about their lives or what's on their minds. And, with whom I feel that I've made a connection (which, may be news to them).

1) The Valentine 4
2) Is This The Middle
3) Jane In Her Infinite Wisdom
4) Bad Luck Detective
5) The Laine List
6) Coffee and Spellcheck
7) Melissa Ann Goodwin
8) KarenLynn
9) Rough and Rede
10) Scheiss Weekly
11) Life Lessons Half Way Through
12) So This is Love

I haven't discovered as many new blogs as I would've liked during NaBloPoMo. The reason being, I cannot keep up with the reading. There are tons of fabulous bloggers out there, but I am the type that would rather be loyal to a few. I love comments, I live for them (o.k. perhaps comments are a close second to coffee and dessert and...possibly...my family), but it feels equally as great to give comments (maybe that is a tiny little white lie, but that's just between you and I...we both know that getting good comments is a wee bit more a.w.e.s.o.m.e.). I can't give that kind of attention if I follow eleventy bazillion blogs...or even 100. I just can't. So, I'm selective...just thought you'd want to know.

One of the other components of these awards is to say why I blog. I was hoping YOU could tell ME. I created a Blogger account back in 2006, because joining is what I do. When people were all in a tizzy over MySpace, I got an account - and have never used it since. Then there was CafeMom and then Facebook, Twitter, FourSquare and BlogHer (2008) and yada yada yada. I join sites, so creating a blog was just another thing to do. I never, and still don't, envision myself as a writer working toward more writing. I just write because sometimes I need to and sometimes it is fun and other times, it's to help chase the brain fog away. The more I read other blogs, the less inclined I am to pursue writing as a career - it's a mix of admiration, envy and fear. Blogging, for me, is a creative outlet and a way to discover more friends and to know that I am not alone in whatever quirky thought/feeling/endeavor - there are others like ME out there (y'all might want to be a teensy bit afraid of that).

Finally - These types of awards are meant to recognize writers/bloggers for their efforts and to provide an opportunity for readers to discover new talent. Some of the links for the bloggers I mentioned above will bring you to their own award page where they mention other bloggers. I encourage you to check out their recommendations and discover some new favorites of your own.

Enjoy & Peace!

p.s.
Leave a comment...'cause they make me happy.

p.p.s.
You are more than welcome to get me more coffee. It *may* (if you get the coffee/creamer ratio right) put you in my good graces for when I'm Queen of the Universe and Planet Earth.

p.p.p.s.
This was a lot harder to do without pie than I thought. 3rd cup of coffee with whipped cream, while nice, is merely a side-kick to, and not a replacement for, pie.

p.p.p.p.s.
I've never had this many p.'s before.

Pie is gone, Reality bites....

2011-11-27T14:57:00.001-08:00

Mundane-ness is holding me hostage....at gunpoint!

Or, it would be if it had thumbs. Or hands...it might need arms, too.

But it is all figurative anyway.

Today is full of chores that a tired and run-down me doesn't want to do.

I want to get my blood test done a month early so that I can see if my TSH (Thyroid Stimulating Hormone) is rising and causing this slumpy-dumpy-frumpy feeling.

But, I fear the results will only reveal a TSH that is doing what IT is supposed to and that the real culprit is not doing what I'm 'supposed' to - like exercising and drinking less wine and eating less pumpkin pie for breakfast...or some other such nonsense. And...the pie is gone, so...there is a bit of suck-ish-ness to this day as well.

But, I still have whipped cream - all is not lost.

So, I will try and make it through this day with a muddled brain and an inebriated feeling despite not getting the pleasure of actually drinking anything alcoholic (which is just all kinds of not fair).

I hope y'all are able to enjoy the last bits and pieces of what was hopefully a wonderful Thanksgiving Weekend!

Real post - or something posing as one - will be on tap for tomorrow!

Cheers, Peace & Pumpkin Pie Wishes!

p.s.
only 3 more days of NaBloPoMo - I can dew eeet!

p.p.s.
I don't really have a p.p.s., but I thought that perhaps it would come to me as I started typing.

p.p.p.s.
Still nope.

NaBloPoMo Day 26 - A Shopping I will Go

2011-11-26T12:02:00.001-08:00

Dear Blogger - Please implement tools to allow me to

rotate pictures. Kthxbai

Leftover Friday - Pass The Pie

2011-11-25T09:39:00.001-08:00

Last night, in the aftermath of Thanksgiving gorging, having a full tank of gas would not have done me a lot of good.

Because, if Zombies had chosen last night to rise up, go forth and infest the planet - our human Food Coma Thursday would have been a smorgasbord for them. I, for one, should have hired a winch crew to lift me off the couch.

While I did go for a little after stroll with Hubbypants after stooofing my face, the festivities wrapped up early and we nestled into our couch to wait for the zombies to come put an end to our misery.

But while we waited, we watched:

We started with Priest, which made me hope for a vampire invasion over zombies, because vamps just git'r done, but zombies....oy...the chewing and the chewing and the chewing. They just eat so slow! I'd like it to be over quickly and I DON'T want to be turned in to either, because it appears that both zombies and vamps lose their taste for pumpkin pie and whipped cream and *gasp* coffee. For reals, there is a fate worse than being the living dead and it is living dead without coffee and pie.

Pirates: On Stranger Tides was alright. It was piratey and giggly, as usual. With a brain muddled from food and wine, I wasn't going for Oscar material - just entertainment.

Hanna was artsy and weird, and since I love weird, I liked this movie. It could have been a better movie, in fact the director should give me a buzz when ready to do a sequel, because I've got LOTS of advice - I'm literally full of it!

What??

And now, Food Coma Thursday is followed by:

Leftover Friday!

(yes, that IS angels you hear singing)

And if you think that the piece of pumpkin pie canoodling with the whipped cream looks rather large, well then...it isn't an optical allusion and your vision is just fine. Yay you! I'm going to make you the look-out for approaching zombies with those mad observational skillz of yours!

Whipped cream in my coffee? Yes.

Five mile walk to counter all of it, probably...must finish mountain of pie first.

But right now I must venture out into the World Wide Interwebz to visit my favorite blogs and catch up on my email all while ignoring the text from my daughter to pick her up from a sleepover and take her AND her friends to the mall.

Yeah....I'll take a Zombie Apocalypse any day.

Peace

All of Your Tomorrows

2011-11-24T00:30:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is just as good as today

For being thankful

Perhaps even better

Because if you have a tomorrow

you are indeed a lucky soul

And so

I wish you

a

Happy Thanksgiving...Today

along with

Much Happiness, Thankfulness

And Joy

In ALL of your tomorrows

Peace

Wordless Wednesday 8: It's the Coffee's Fault.

2011-11-23T10:25:00.001-08:00

(Click on image to enlarge)

Words We Should Not Keep

2011-11-22T00:30:00.000-08:00

If I were an artist,

I would make this into a poster

and

then

I'd give it to you.

Yes, you...

The one who stores these words

in her head,

giving them a place to nest,

and

then

believes them.

But, I'm not an artist,

I'm just like you.

Perhaps together

you

and

Can put these words

where they belong

and

then

they will no longer reside

inside of

us.

(Click to enlarge image)

Ink and Paper

2011-11-21T09:31:00.001-08:00

Click image to enlarge

No creamer, no problem!

2011-11-20T09:10:00.001-08:00

I'm out of coffee creamer this morning.

Don't fret! There is no need to panic, like I started to...until...

I opened the refrigerator door and a heavenly light shown upon the whipped cream canister. Some would argue that a light shows every time the refrigerator door is opened, but this was special light - because the angels were singing too - it is, after all, whipped cream.

A mound of whipped cream gently stirred into coffee is JUST the thing for a creamer emergency.

That is how the cultured, classy people do it. The do NOT squirt the whipped cream in their mouth and then take a sip of coffee. And then repeat. Repeatedly.

Me? I've got all kinds of classy goin' on up in herre! I've got so much classy that Martha Stewart calls ME for advice. Well, she would, but the restraining order doesn't allow any form of contact. I think she filed for the restraining order to keep herself from relying on me so much. I imagine she wanted to try and make it on her own. Good luck, Martha...I'm here if you need me, just look out your window and give me the signal. I'm only 500 feet away, like the order says!

*squirt*sip*

On a lark this morning I tried to log into the campus portal for the college I was attending to see if I could still access my information. Nope.

I completed the Fall 2010 quarter and then decided I needed a little break to wait for my super powers to kick in - just in case I was suddenly graced with Smarty McSmartpants powers or something.

I've now been off for 3 quarters and I'm starting to feel as if I should *do* something, jump back into the fray. I am ----this----close to earning my A.A. in Liberal Arts. Just a few more classes and I'm there.

Until I went on sabbatical (which sounds so much grander than *quit*), I was carrying a 4.0 - that is until that last class, where I earned a B. I've tried to cut myself some slack by reminding myself that I had surgery, was whacked out from thyroid hormones and had trouble staying awake. It just doesn't matter - I was only 15 points away from an A and I just couldn't do it. That is one regret I'll take to my grave, as silly as it sounds.

I'm not sure what is keeping me away now, other than not knowing exactly what to do when I've earned that degree. Not sure what the next level is.

I've read articles about women in mid life who step away from their old careers to grasp the golden ring and finally, FINALLY do what they've always wanted to do.

But I don't know what I've always wanted to do. Writing and blogging are fun, but I don't know if I could - or would want to - make a career out of it. I'd love to work in a museum, but I doubt they'll pay me to just wander around "ooh"-ing and "ahh"-ing over all the brick-a-brack.

Photography? No.
Creating/Crafting/Chefing? No.
Running a B&B? No.
Writing novels? No.
Dancing in the woods nekkid during a Wicca ceremony? Oh, well...maybe...

I even checked into the requirements or certificate programs for Ruling the World - not a lot of options. Well, none really. Maybe I should start my own school?

Ultimately, I've decided I need to go to the campus and meet with someone to sort out what I've accomplished and what needs to be completed. I'll do that...very soon. I swear.

What about you?

Are you looking toward the future and wondering W.T.F. do I do now?

And, if you are, what steps are you taking toward your goals?

Do you have an "I've always wanted to..." story?

Ack, I'm out of coffee - again! I'm not sure about using whipped cream, it seems to be sucking up all the coffee - I'm already on my 3rd cup. Weird.

*squirt*sip*squirt*sip*

Peace

Discovering, Questioning - I'm Still a Work in Progress

2011-11-19T09:18:00.000-08:00

"It's Saturday and there's no blog post yet!" Hubbypants announces.

He's my ~~only~~ biggest fan and I love him oodles for that.

Today is Day 19 of NaBloPoMo and I'm teetering, unsure if I can sustain 11 more days.

But, like a Weeble that wobbles, I'm not going to fall down.

Don't know what a Weeble is? Too young, you say? (lucky you) Here, let me introduce you and you're welcome for the earworm.

It's interesting, this Blogging thing. I sit on my computer chair and create something from nothing by letting my fingers skate across the keyboard. Inherently they know where to strike, having received signals from my brain - ideas and phrases -which my fingers translate into the letters that make up what you are reading now.

The mere fact that someone, YOU, is reading this at all is rather miraculous to me. I'm still in awe that YOU return to read more.

This Blogging every day adventure is interesting because it is more than just stringing together words on a page. I am discovering and questioning.

Discovering that I need more writing experience, maybe even a class or ~~two~~ twelve. I'm discovering that I do have some talent for writing, or at least my fingers do - there is a chance that THEY are responsible for what happens here instead of my actual brain.

Questioning what exactly to do with Blogging, where to take it and how? And maybe, the bigger question of why? (bigger questions require bigger, fancier font in pretty colors - just because I can. Just don't keep clicking it, there is no link. STOP CLICKING ALREADY)

I've ruminated ad nauseam on this blog about what to do when I inevitably go back to work. I may have even fantasized about writing and being paid for it. Then I find myself doing what so many other bloggers have already written about this month - comparing. When I compare, I realize the futility of fantasizing about something I don't have the skills for. Lack of confidence seems to be a theme among emerging writers and a few who will be reading this post will shake their heads and relate.

Reading other blogs is a double edge sword - the Green Eyed Monster of Jealousy rears its ugly head and invites its BFF, Doubt, to join in the fun (fun being sarcasm, but you probably already knew that. I just like putting stuff in brackets and shrinking it). But...yet...it drives a would be writer to up the ante, to reach a little deeper, to think a little harder and strive for 'better'. Reading the work of other writers is one of the best motivators to improve myself (or, plan to do so at some undetermined point in the future when I've stopped being a giant procrastinating lazy-pants).

What NaBloPoMo has taught me is to accept that I am not an inept, no talent hack. While I may have a gazillion miles to go to catch up to some of the wonderful writers I read, I now accept that I don't have to BE them to be good or worthy of praise.

So, I guess this post is to say thank you to the wonderful writers I follow and who frequently comment on my posts. You inspire me to drink from the well of Great and to stop accepting Mediocre.

And finally, I'd like to thank my Hubbypants for showing me the new format on Blogger, which has all sorts of neato options for embedding videos and, the highly coveted (by me) ~~strike thru~~. I've been wanting to use that feature forEVAH!

And a final finally, a little diddy to remind us that we are still on a journey, still learning...and it's all good!

Write on, my BlogHer, Blogger and Blogging friends!

Peace
or
Chaos
Your choice

She's Famous For...

2011-11-18T10:42:00.001-08:00

I'm pretty sure that I am on the verge of being famous.

Or infamous.

It is contingent upon what type of super powers I'll be getting (ahem - any day now would be nice).

For instance, super strength with the ability to fly would mean I could swoop down and save a pedestrian who's in the path of a texting-while-driving asshat.

Disaster avoided. Kudos given - maybe even gifted a Starbucks card or something by the grateful almost victim.

But what if my power is invisibility? Sure, I could probably help out the DEA by sneaking into meth labs and freak out the tweakers by pretending to be a ghost or something.

But those people probably have guns and unless I have some nifty super suit or bullet repellent skin, well...that could be dangerous. Saving people is one thing, but being in the line of fire is a whole 'nuther pile o'pewp.

Oh, but HEEEEYYYY...they could give ME a gun (we can all guess how well THAT would go). I should probably have one for the impeding Zombie Apocalypse anyway. But the gun will need to be invisible as well, because the bad guys would see this floating gun and start showering the possessed weapon with bullets and...then I'm back where I started...or, actually, I'm probably D.E.D.dead. Then what happens if I set down my invisible gun? I might not be able to find it again....unless I had one of those remote control thingies that go beep-beep, like you do for your car when you've forgotten where you parked.

Damn, this super hero stuff is getting complicated.

Or, I could just be a villain. It sort of sounds easier, ya know? And a villain with the power of invisibility?

I could spook nekkid people! O.M.G!!!

I'd probably hang out, invisible-like, in the locker rooms of fitness clubs doing things that only the invisible can do {insert your own naughty ideas here}. I'd cause such a ruckus that nekkid folk would stampede into the lobby of the gym.

I sort of feel bad for thinking about how much fun that would be. {sort of, but not really - the feeling bad part}

The downside is all the floppy bits. Not entirely sure I'd like to see them, en mass, jumping and jiggling to escape the unseen terror that is me. Nekkid has its dark side and it's droopy (shudder).

Have you ever looked back upon something you wrote and wondered, "Do normal people write stuff like that? Is there someone else living in my brain and WTF are they smokin'?"

You don't?

Oh...o.k....never mind then.

I've sort of forgotten where I was going with this.

Oh, famous...right. I should spend a bit of time deciding what I will be famous for if my powers fail to materialize.

I'm taking recommendations. Please keep in mind that I don't like getting dirty, or sticky, or manual labor, or much that would involve leaving my computer chair.

So, yeah...taking recommendations for my new infamous (or famous, if you you want to play it safe and be a boring old stick in the muck that never gets to scare nekkid people - or maybe semi nekkid, to spare us the wrinkly floppy stuff) career.

Peace!
Or...
Chaos!
Either/Or

Adult isn't for the Meek.

2011-11-17T05:00:00.000-08:00

What is the moment that you leave childhood and enter adulthood?

It seems, today, that being an 'adult' is a very unpopular decision.

No one wants to admit they are one, sort of like being Voldemort - "The State of Being That Shall Not Be Named."

As if there is something very wrong with being an adult.

There may be truth in that statement. But for me, being an adult is not like wearing a giant red "A" pinned to my chest.

Perhaps, because I've been one for such a long time. Maybe, even, before I was ready.

And, if truth be told, I believe that I become one less and less every year. More on that later.

The precise turning point, the exact spot where I pivoted from childhood to adulthood, isn't clear.

It's more of a series of experiences I lived as a child and a teenager:

*It was standing at the door of the local dive bar asking the nearest available drunk to fetch my step-father...again...for reasons that escape me today.
*It was cleaning up the kitchen after the 2nd day in a row of my mother being unable to get out of bed because she didn't have the boost she needed from crank.
* And when I was able to drive, it was going to pick up the boost she needed from her...um, friend?
*It was moving out at 16 to live with a man 11 years my senior.
*I grew up when I had to live with a man who felt I was trying to kill him by testing drugs on him that I was cooking in my meth lab in the attic, despite there being no equipment, puncture wounds OR attic.
*I grew up after being used as a human shield one night because whatever drug he took made him even more paranoid than he already was AND he was convinced that I had hired someone to snipe him through the windows of our house.
*I had to grow up after things I won't say.
*Being chased from the house by a gun wielding step-father makes you put on your big girl britches as well.
*Bailing out BOTH parents, at different times, also brings to light exactly which one of the 3 of you is the real adult.

Then I had my own children, who disobediently grow up and take risks that leave me with gray hair. Risks that are as simple as walking home from school on their own to learning to drive a car. The endless "IFs" and the memories from my own teenagedom make me want to spend the rest of my golden years utterly and completely inebriated. Children were another straw on the camel's weak back, forcing me to walk into adulthood.

Watching loved ones leave us forever is something that both child and adult can do, but only the adult realizes that all to soon it will be them.

I pulled out a pair of shoes recently that were tucked into my closet. On the toe of one shoe is a dark spot - blood. The blood is from when I helped a friend who recently went through yet another surgery to battle the beast that is breast cancer. She had a drain that needed to be emptied, but the fluid had to be measured first. The measuring process didn't go very well and we both ended up wearing bits of her. After I cleaned up the mess, I noticed my shoe and didn't think much of it. So why now, so many months later, would it be an issue?

Because she is gone. The friend that was just a few months younger than me couldn't slay the demon. It won. When they - the people in our life - start to bow to the power of mortality, you cannot help but realize that you've grown up. Time is ever advancing and you too will be someone that is wept over, missed, and hopefully never forgotten.

There is no escaping it, this moment, when you realize that you are an adult.

With each passing year I try to not take life as seriously, because it will claim me regardless. But I've earned the right to call myself an adult and to actually be one.

However, that doesn't mean that I will not roar like a dinosaur when I walk across the grocery store parking lot in an effort to embarrass my teenage daughter. It doesn't mean that I won't get ALL the lyrics to an Eminem song wrong while singing at the top of my lungs...again...in the car, with the teenagers. It doesn't mean that I will not take every opportunity to sit in wet sand, lick the frosting off of a cupcake and say, "Yes!" when asked if by my teenagers if I want to go cruise downtown at 10:00 p.m. on a Saturday night.

I may be an adult, but as an adult I get to define exactly what that means to me.

And for me, it means.....wait....

No.

I'm not ready to define what it means.

I'm not ready to put into words something that could imply that I have it all figured out.

Because I don't.

And if I did, then it might mean I'm dead.

And THAT is something I'm REALLY not ready for.

So, crank up the music while I learn how to Dougie *BADLY* so that I can continue to embarrass my children and provide them with memories that they will, hopefully, look back on with a smile.

I like this adult gig.

Wordless Wednesday 7: The ART of punishment...

2011-11-16T10:41:00.000-08:00

Of Planning and Doing

2011-11-15T09:00:00.000-08:00

When day 15 of NaBloPoMo arrives at 4:30 a.m. to the sound of visiting family shuffling about in preparation for departure, it is a sign of a long day to come (despite going back to bed for an hour and a half).

I'm now three cups into my day and it is failing to inspire - so that means it's time to break out the pumpkin pie.

With whipped cream.

Maybe LOTS of whipped cream.

I kid about eating pumpkin pie for breakfast. {no she's not}

And I'm not really drinking my 4th cup of coffee. {yes she is}

And my fingers are not conspiring against me by typing truths in scrolly pink brackets. So if you see any of those, ignore them. {it's a cry for help people, she needs more pie and whipped cream}

It's possible my stomach is in cahoots. {duh, ya think?}

During the first week of this NaBloPoMo experiment I read some great advice about creating an editorial calendar. And, once I found out what the hell it was, it sounded like a very neato-keeno idea.

Skip ahead to week 2 and Hubbypants, in reply to my complaint about finding something to write about, says I should plan out my topics for the rest of the month.

"It's called an editorial calendar," I say, "and I've already thought about it". {she said it like she didn't just learn it a week before - all smarty-pants-know-it-all-like}

I'd like to take a moment to warn my mutinous fingers that I do have a delete button. Just sayin! {pfft, and how are you gonna "delete" stuff? With your toes? You NEED us.}

Cheeky things, those fingers.

So, here I am half way and I have no calendar of blog topics to get me through the next 15 days.

When the subject of an editorial calendar came up, I will admit to thinking of it as a tool for real bloggers and real writers. It isn't something a Dabbler would need.

The fault in this logic, as is typical of me, is that there ARE people who read my daily musings and they would probably like to read something as opposed to nothing...or even nothing about something as opposed to nothing about nothing.

Wow! Did you see that? My train of thought used my ear as an exit to escape my logic and is probably half way to Belize by now.

Where the heck was I going with this?

Oh...right...Planning, Organizing and Building Foundations.

Meaning - taking steps to write down ideas, jotting them on the calendar and then, possibly, stringing letters and words together to form a blog post.

I know NOW that *most* writers plan. I realize NOW that the majority of bloggers do not wake up each morning and wait for the coffee and pumpkin pie to ignite a spark of inspiration on some topic and then viola*wham*bam*thank*ya*mam, a post is born.

I DO realize it doesn't work that way.

I just wish it did. {Because Ms. Piggy wants pumpkin pie every morning}

*whispers* Fingers that don't want to spend the day doing dishes without gloves should think carefully before name calling* {people that don't want their ass expanding should put down the fork and step away from the pie} I wonder if anyone else finds these dual conversations between Myself and I a little disturbing? {no comment}

Anywhooo...I'd do all that planning and organizing stuff if wasn't so boring and I didn't draw a complete blank every time I sit down to do it. Perhaps it is boring because of the blankness? Hmmm....

Organization has been swirling around in my head because I feel as if I need to move forward and onward with certain things in my life that I cannot accomplish willy-nilly.

I often wonder what I could say and how well I could say it if I spent time writing with the notion that I was actually doing so as a writer vs. a person with too much time on my hands. What if, for giggle sake, I were to plan and research and edit as if I were submitting for publication beyond this blog?

I really do think that. Often actually. Which leads to full and complete melt down and something chocolaty drizzled over my pumpkin pie to be washed down with more coffee.

Thank you, NaBloPoMo for forcing me to dive into these thoughts, sort them out (hopefully) and the need to go shopping for stretchy pants.

Answer me this, if you please:

IF you are a blogger, do you keep an editorial calendar (even if it is just a guide)?

How do you come up with your blogging ideas

(just by waking up or serious contemplation)?

My hope is that by finding my inner organized self that I'll avoid letting opportunities pass me by. Such as: I was recently approached via Twitter to *possibly* have my Super Powers blog post syndicated on a blogging network site. The tweet was 4 days old when I saw it - I had failed to reply in a timely manner and will, very likely, not hear from this person again.

My loss at not being Twitter savvy.

While I am sad that this opportunity *may* have passed, I am flattered beyond blushing that this editor even read my post AND that she took the time to contact me. Indeed a great feeling.

Now that I've spent my entire morning writing, it is time to move on and accomplish other important tasks. {Don't let her fool you, she's just going to stalk people on Facebook}

Among those tasks will be to teach my fingers a lesson on how sarcasm can backfire - time to clean the toilets - With.Out.Gloves. {doh...eww}

Peace Out!

p.s.
Today's post is brought to you by Starbucks French Roast and homemade pumpkin pie.

p.s.s.
I should've probably skipped that last cup of coffee

p.s.s.s.
Did we just have an earthquake? Why is the room spinning?

p.s.s.s.s.
{Cleaning toilets without gloves is like cutting off your nose to spite your face}
Hmmm...true, we'll have the kids clean the toilets and I'll torture my fingers with ugly nail polish.
{Oy, there she goes again}
What?

p.s.s.s.s.s.
What the hell does "p.s." really mean? And is it "p.s.s." or is it "p.p.s" or....?

June Travel Day 3 (NaBloPoMo Day 14)

2011-11-14T09:23:00.000-08:00

Today is the last day for visiting family, they'll be heading home tomorrow morning. My nephew proved ready to test for his 2nd degree black belt which means they'll (likely) be back in March for the real test. Yay!

I'll leave you with a link to my final day in San Diego and a tour of Old Town - another must see.

Click here and enjoy!

Peace!

June Travel - Day 2 (NaBloPoMo Day 13)

2011-11-13T10:38:00.000-08:00

Welcome to day 13 my NaBloPoMo peeps and non-writing peeps! Almost half way there!!

Another day spent with visiting family is on tap for today along with making an early Thanksgiving meal - because one a year is just not enough (I may not have mentioned how much I love Thanksgiving meals - but I am now and believe me, I love it L.O.T.S...visions of stuffing dancing in my head).

Today's link is Day 2 of my San Diego trip this past June. Balboa Park, which was just a mile from where we stayed, is a place worth getting lost in. Hours upon hours can feel like minutes when you roam the museums and gardens - if you are ever in San Diego, this is a must see.

Click HERE to check it out!

Family calls!!

Peace!

Visiting

2011-11-12T00:12:00.000-08:00

It's Day 12 of NaBloPoMo and I've made it farther than I thought I would. I know, 12 days doesn't seem like a lot, but...it is for this Newbie Blogger.

It is also a weekend that I have a house full to the brim of visiting family and since I see them so seldom I'll be tearing myself away from the computer.

To fill the void I'll be posting a link to 3 blogs I wrote about my trip to San Diego. Since many of you that read this blog are from other parts of the country (and world), you might enjoy seeing my neck of the woods (if you want to consider 460 miles south of me as "my neck of the woods"). It's still the same state.

I'll post them as 3 separate posts so that I can still stay on track for NaBloPoMo.

San Diego Day one...clicky here!

Family is calling! Happy Weekend Y'all!

The One Got Away or How I Lost My Mentor

2011-11-11T00:01:00.000-08:00

Mentor [noun]: a wise and trusted counselor or teacher.

Have you ever had such a creature yourself? This thing called a mentor?

I've read articles about them. I've heard tell of them through friends. You know how it goes, you have a friend who has a friend who has a cousin who's sister has an uncle who's married to a woman who had a mentor...once.

In other words, they are as elusive as Bigfoot. You hear the stories, the claims, but not one piece of clear, non-blurry, close up footage!

If you Google 'mentor', you'll find programs to become a mentor or be paired with a mentor or any number of mentorish connections.

It involves filling out an application where someone I don't know pairs me with another person I don't know. That isn't how I envision finding my "wise and trusted" guide.

I fantasize about this happening through natural means; I meet someone who, over a period of time, takes an interest in me -nudging me along toward great and wonderful things. In this fantasy, they seek me out.

Sounds great, doesn't it?

It does to me too - and now for my One That Got Away story.

A couple of years ago I took a series of Art History classes at my local community college and fell in love (educationally) with the teacher. I liked her teaching style and how she wove in the historical and political influences that drove artists. I spent much time in her office discussing arty things. She tried to talk me into sending my writing into the local newspaper. I could go on recounting her praises, but I feel weird saying nice things about myself.

It is that exact feeling of weirdness that prevented me from mustering up the courage to ask her to mentor me. That and the fact that I really didn't know what a mentor does. And what if she said no? My confidence deficient brain would assume it was because she really was just saying nice things because she was my professor and that's what professors do, right?

Yes, I realize how ridiculous that sounds. Come live in my head for a bit and you'll understand...and when you do, please explain it to me because I still don't know what possess me to think that way.

So I just enjoyed my time with her and kept in touch, never mentioning how much I'd like her to help guide me toward a profession.

Then she was gone.

She went on a year long sabbatical to work on her PhD. When she returned I was in the midst of trying to get through my Environmental Biology class while dealing with thyroid cancer. I just didn't have the energy to walk across campus and see her. The last few emails I sent went unanswered. She's no longer on the staff roster at the college.

She's just...gone.

In my typical fashion, I assume that it is because she isn't interested in staying in touch. My mind is telling my heart, "See! I told you so, she said those nice things to everyone and you just made the mistake of believing."

I could do more to find her. I could contact a couple of teachers that were personal friends of hers, teachers I had for various other classes who would pass along my inquiry.

But that is just seems too stalkerish and there is a bit of doubt that tells me she doesn't want to be found. Whatever the reason for her disappearance, I hope that she is well and happy - I'd hate to think that something terrible has happened.

And that is how I lost my mentor - she's the one that got away.

Do you have a mentor story?
Would you seek out a mentor, speak up and ask for their guidance?
Would you pay for one?
And, finally...do you actively seek out a trusted adviser or wait for them to come to you?
What's your story?

Lastly, I'm going to leave you with this quote that struck me as appropriate for this post. I'm not entirely sure why, but perhaps it has something to with with finding the strength to just believe in oneself. (or...maybe...discover my super hero powers?) :-)

"All of your weaknesses are just doorways to your secret strengths." A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle

Peace

How I got my super powers.

2011-11-10T00:01:00.000-08:00

That was me, one year ago.

I kid you not.

What a hoot that was! {not really}

November 10, 2010 was the day I got my super powers.

The doctor didn't use those words specifically, but I knew what she meant. I think the conversation was more like, "The best way to make sure we've removed all of the thyroid cancer is to do the follow-up RAI (radioactive iodine) treatment."

But I heard, "Now that you are cured and have that nifty scar, we're going to make you a super hero."

She probably meant to say, "or villain", too.

I'm sort of waiting until my powers fully develop to see whether I'll be fighting for The Good or The Naughty.

The whole transformation would have been A.W.E.S.O.M.E. if I hadn't needed to follow the LID (Low Iodine Diet). The list of things I could not eat are too numerous and typing them will make my fingers bleed. But, the diet was necessary and I'm only telling you this so that you can feel sorry for me and say, "You poor thing, you mean NO creamer in your coffee for TWO. WHOLE. WEEKS?"

I know!!!!

So, scan day arrives and I go to the hospital Information Desk and say to Sparky the Volunteer, "Can you direct me to the Super Hero Transformation Clinic?"

Blank Stare -"Excuse me?" says Sparky the Volunteer.

Ya know, those volunteers are so nice, but they are old and a bit hard of hearing. So, I say: "I'm here for radio-active treatment to get my super powers. Do I get a menu of the super power options?"

Sparky the Volunteer just sort of stared at me for a blink or two and then said, "Oh, you must want Nuclear Medicine. It's in the basement."

I think he said that for the benefit of anyone who might have been eavesdropping. We can't have the general public knowing where Super Hero's get their groove now can we. Basement = Justice League Headquarters Type Place and Nuclear Medicine = Transformation Clinic...like, duh.

Hubbypants and I take the elevator with the common folk - if they only knew. It's a good thing they didn't though, since I was without a pen to sign autographs and stuff.

The day before I had swallowed a small dose of some radioactive something or other that the remaining thyroid tissue in my body sucked up (because, it had been starved of iodine for 14 days) and which would light up my innards like a Christmas tree. The nurse just stared at me when I asked about presents. Pfft...not even a Starbucks card. And boy, these Hospital people aren't very swift and do a whole lot of creepy staring. I wonder if they are remote controlled robots? Ooo...wouldn't that be cool!

The Nursebot had me lay on the impossibly narrow scanner bed in some nauseating position (no really, I was nauseous for hours after) and wait 40 minutes for the panel to travel from my head to my feet. I'm not going to describe the scan - I'll just say that twice in my lifetime is plenty, thankyouverymuch.

The results of the scan lead the doctor on duty to suggested going through with the full RAI treatment, because...apparently...there was still a bit of cancer lurking in a lymph node. I was a bit taken aback, since I thought my super powers were a done deal. I had a choice? And, I’m still waiting on that menu.

Needless to say, I went through with it...took the whole 'glow in the dark' dose. Weeeeee

Now the REAL fun begins!

The Nursebot, wearing a lead vest, uses tongs and gloves to move a lead container (delivered in a special box, by a special carrier person) into a larger lead box with a plexi shield. Me - I'm just sitting in the chair. NO lead protection for MY ass. And this pill that she's handling with all the protective equipment??...did I mention it is going INSIDE me...via my mouth, as in swallowing this pill o' death?

Well, now you know.

Prior to this I'd been given a large class of water, signed all the paperwork and completed all business with them. I'll tell you why...

Nursebot proceeds to give me the pill by dumping it from lead container into my hand, I'm to pop it, swallow it and then get the fuck out of Dodge.

O.k. they were not that rude, but the instructions were to leave the hospital immediately, not to ride the elevator with anyone else, not to ride in the front seat next to my husband - I'm sure that if it had been an option, they would have suggested strapping me on top of the car. I was NOT to make ANY stops - GO STRAIGHT HOME - and then sit all by myself in a room far, far away from everyone. For 3 days and nights.

What a strange and bizarre feeling to be so contaminated that you cannot go near anyone for fear of over exposing them to radiation. No kissing. No hugging. No nooky. No sharing utensils. No sharing toilets or sinks or plates or...It isn't like they'll spontaneously combust or anything, but you don't want to screw up the future reproductive options of your children. Or worse, increase their risk of cancer.

To make this fun fest even better!! I was to remain on the LID another day to ensure that the radioactive iodine was completely absorbed by any remaining thyroid tissue. There is a whole science behind this that I've left out, because you really don't care. But after the whole procedure the thought of one more day of black coffee was enough to make me cry.

Fast forward a week (and LOTS of over indulging in formerly forbidden food) a friend brings over a Geiger counter. Yes, one of those things they use to detect nuclear activity/traces/whatever. Nothing like a body full of toxic iodine to make that sucker sing. I must say, it was wicked cool to set off a Geiger. Once. I don't really ever want to do it again. Ever.

So, after being cut open and poisoned, I'm STILL waiting to see what mystery super power I was given. I tell you one thing, I'm NOT jumping off the house again until I'm SURE I can really fly. Good thing we planted those bushes where we did. I won't be stopping any speeding bullets or racing any locomotives yet either. Some lessons you only need to learn once.

There must be some sort of grace period to these powers of mine, like I can't use them for a year or something? And if that's the case, then tomorrow I should be Golden...and maybe even making headlines.

Well, if my powers lean toward good and I save your ass from some fatal fatality, then...you're welcome. But, if the tide goes the other way, well...sometimes a gal just has to get her naughty on, ya know? My apologies in advance.

Thanks for taking this trip down memory lane with me, I need to go shopping now for my super hero outfit - Cape & Tiara are at the top of the list.

Peace!

Wordless Wednesday 6: Being Green(ish)

2011-11-09T11:23:00.001-08:00

My Freedom

2011-11-07T22:43:00.000-08:00

"Has anything traumatic ever happened to you?
Describe the scenes surrounding the event."

Today's NaBloPoMo prompt.

No.

The "no" isn't because I have not experienced a traumatic event. Oh, quite the opposite.

This prompt will help some reveal a piece of themselves that may need to reach other eyes...and hearts. But for me, picking which traumatic event to share will be like cutting myself open and bleeding all over the page.

It isn't something I need to do and while I occasionally decide to strip away the facade and reveal my inner seriousness, I don't think today is that day.

I have a sneaking suspicion that will never happen here.

So, instead I had some more coffee and tried to tap into my giddy and whip up some humor...but then I checked Facebook and my humor leaked out my ears, displaced by angry steam.

Have you read_The Handmaids Tale_?

(This isn't the cover of the edition I read but I felt it portrayed my 'feelings' at the moment)

If not, perhaps you should. I won't go into detail, because you can easily read a synopsis here:
http://en.wikipedia.org

If you HAVE read it, then you'll likely say:

"It's just fiction, fantasy fiction at that?"

"It could never happen here."

And you would say that because we are a "Free" country.

Then, you would read this: Mississippi's 'Personhood' law.

And then you might say, "Well...we are free in every way but our wombs and reproductive rights, that is."

So, if you tell me that a scenario like that which Margaret Atwood describes in_The Handmaid's Tale_ could never happen in such a 'Free' nation, then it is like trying to close the door on an intruder who is forcing his way inside to smother your control over your own body and your ability to choose what happens to it (a.k.a. Freedom). However much I dislike the phrase, "Never say Never"...well...never say never.

What freedom shall we give up next?

Oh, don't roll your eyes at me! Don't say that it can't happen here, that that sort of control can't take foothold...because it IS (trying to) and it has claws and is driven by a small band of ultra conservative religious extremist.

Yes, I said it...extremist. And yes, I'm comparing them to the same extremist in the Middle East. That is how I see them and that is the kind of control I see them scrambling to take hold of.

I love this country specifically for the ability to worship freely, or to not. The freedom to praise religion or denounce it. If a child wants to take a moment to pray at school, then doesn't it go against the idea of Freedom to deny them? And if a child chooses to not say, "...under God..." during the pledge, then again...aren't we talking about Freedom?

But when it comes to a doctrine trying to impart its ideals, of which I am not in line with, on to my Freedom, then I draw the line.

And don't EVEN try to tell me this country was founded on Christian ideals, because I'll have to come over there and pinch you...hard. I know better. Several of our founders were against the canoodling of church and state. They were of mixed faiths, and...in some cases, no 'faith'. Ours is a sordid, messy history and much more interesting when you don't stick to reading only the vanilla, candy coated revisionist versions. But all of those founding members worked damn hard to bring us the Freedom's we have now...and I'm not just talking about those colonial peeps...I'm talking throughout our short history right through to today.

So, let me reiterate. I am not against religion. I am against 'people' who choose to wield their faith as a weapon against my Freedom and that of my daughter and her daughter and so on (and I believe this is a very small group with really big mouths).

Whatever your feelings or religious beliefs are toward reproduction and birth control, then let that be your guide. Creating a LAW, that governs ALL people, including those that do not share your vision, and which takes away the freedom to choose what happens to our bodies away...is wrong.

This whole post is based on conjecture - the far fetched notion that my live free or die America would ever sucumb to the horrid state of affairs depicted in_The Handmaid's Tale_. It's fiction for crying out loud, I know that!

But this law being proposed by Mississippi has potential impact - and yes, again, it's just theory. But that old saying, "Never say never" floats around in my head again and it scares me.

If you've spent any time reading the news, or listening to our poor excuses for Presidential candidates (this should REALLY scare you), then you might start seeing little bits of our freedom being quietly escorted to an undisclosed location...for our own good??

Hmmm...no, I think I'll stay vigilant and fight for the Freedom to choose what happens to and with my body, thankyouverymuch.

And one other thing: I also wonder what sort of boon our struggling economy would see if our leaders would focus more on caring for those of us that are already out of the womb, you know...like jobs and better educational systems...that sort of stuff. Ya, I'd really like to straighten out this world a bit before we start ensuring that as many babies are born into this mess as possible.

And finally, this is merely my opinion and an admittedly realativly uninformed one - but, that doesn't stop the politicians from spewing their own rhetoric, so why should it stop me. I am also not trying to open a debate on religion, ethics, rights, etc. I value, so very much, the right of everyone to say their peace, to be who they are, to love whom they want (consentually and as adults) and to live freely by their own moral compass (whether through faith or an internal guide) - and that it is a compass of compassion and goodwill. So please keep that in mind if you choose to comment here.

Ok...I'm climbing down from my soap box now and slapping a piece of duct tape over my mouth (or...around my typing fingers??).

Peace

I think the cat did it...

2011-11-07T00:01:00.000-08:00

There is nefariousness afoot in my house and possibly throughout the whole world.

My cats are stealing candy and trying to pin their thievery on me!

That can be the only explanation for all the empty Halloween candy wrappers that seem to appear out of thin air and nestle next to me. If you really concentrate, you can see the blur of cat fur as they plant the false evidence. They must be using some sort of advanced technology that gives them super speed powers, as if they were...{whispers} s.p.i.e.s. (I don't think they can spell)

I think, but can't prove, that they have been surgically altered to have opposable thumbs! How else can they open the wrappers?

I'm on to them though, I just don't know WHY they are doing it. Do you think - maybe - there is some uber rich, candy-holic, evil genius scientist person who is harnessing cat power to feed her addiction?

Yeah, that's what I thought too, but the family doesn't believe me.

Hubby swears that when he kisses me I 'taste of fun size Snickers'. The kids ask me why I smell of chocolate and have caramel in my hair and delectably roasted peanuts in my teeth. It's all so fishy, I mean who says, "You smell like FUN SIZE candy"?

Planted evidence, I tell you!! My family has been brainwashed by the cats with some sort of hypnosis or Inception like brain futzing. That evil genius scientist person is brilliant!

The candy supply is dwindling rapidly, well...I should say that the CHOCOLATE candy is. That seems to be their focus. I don't know what will happen when there is nothing left but Starbursts and Skittles. I fear for my life.

I can't believe that I've been so misguided in my fear of a zombie apocalypse, when right under my nose Catopolypse was forming. Cats turning against us, blaming us to hide their true master.

What if YOUR cat is in on it? Think about it - have you been blissfully engulfed in your book only to discover a pile of snack size Milky Way wrappers in your lap and cat snoozing nearby? Do you find empty wrappers scattered around the keyboard, spilling to the floor next to the computer chair? Or, even near your coffee cup? If so, you might be their next target.

It may be too late for me, but you can still save yourself. The remedy may be to eat all the chocolate first, causing the little minions to move on to the next house. I'm going to give it my best shot - a gal has to do what a gal has to do.

If you don't think you are up to the task, if you don't like chocolate, then please...FOR THE LOVE OF COCOA...contact me and I'll help. Our children's future depends on it {o.k. not really, that was just for dramatic effect - but it is really, really important...probably}.

Peace my friends and stay vigilant!

The Dawn of Day 6

2011-11-06T09:12:00.000-08:00

Hello, Day 6. {In my head I sound like Newman, greeting his arch nemesis, Jerry - my thoughts dripping with snide contempt}

I'm sitting here gazing out my sliding glass door, which I'm SO happy I cleaned just before it rained, looking at an overcast sky with more chances for precipitation. (I really do love rain, if ya want to read my story about it, just click here).

I'm also sitting here sipping coffee and eating English muffins that I made last night. I say, "muffins" in its plural form because I screwed up AGAIN and made them too small. S'ok...it's hard to eat just one anyway, so the smaller the muffin the smaller the guilt. I dare you to find fault with that logic [you are welcome to use it toward fun size candy bars (plural) as well].

So, why this contempt for a Sunday that is starting out so mahvelous, dahling?

I'mma tell you why...this writing every day thing is hard!

Harder than I expected it would be, at least in the first damn week...which isn't even over until tomorrow, Day 7.

I may sound like I'm whining, well...because I am, but I do realize I took on this challenge and it is only me that I am held accountable to. But, Whiners love company and there is a good chance that other NaBloPoMo writers will be reading my blog and thinking, "I know, right!" So, this is for them.

Thinking about how fleeting inspiration can be has made it clear that some of my posts are likely to meander into randomocity, and yes even more so than is typical.

I've spent much time over this week reading other blogs and I'm happy to learn that I am not alone in trying to find my niche. To be clear, I read 'food blogs' and 'review type blogs' and 'mommy blogs', all of which have an overall theme which makes it clear what they write about.

For awhile, I thought I didn't really fit anywhere.

Blissfully wrong, was I. Or, how would Yoda say that? Wrong, was I, blissfully. Meh..anyhooo...

There are tons upon oodles of blog writers out there just tapping into their inner whatever and writing about everything and nothing. There is an art to writing that unstructured, letting whatever random idea guide you. I've decided to embrace my ability to not be labeled into a certain 'genre'?? of blog writing. Free-form, willy-nilly, footloose and fancy free - that's gonna be me.

You may be thinking that I already write that way and you are right, but remember I couldn't figure out what to write about today so nothing is as good as anything. Right?

This project, while I anticipate will make me want to tear my hair out some days, is so exciting because I see blogging has made it into hands (and typing fingers) of average folk, who are not so average in their ability to draw you into their lives. I see people like me out there in the blogosphere. And plenty more NOT like me, which is even better!

What about you?
Are you trying to develop a themed blog?
Do you have your posts for NaBloPoMo all planned out?
Or, are you a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants-just-wing-it kind of writer?
(psst...if you are, we'll form a club, secret handshakes and passwords and stuff)

So, I believe I've rambled on enough about nothing and my coffee cup is painfully empty.

Blog On, my friends.

Peace

p.s.
Whew. Made it through Day 6. Even though I have NO idea what I said, or meant to say or...ya.

p.s.s.
What the Hell am I going to do for day 7?

p.s.s.s.
Who's going to get me more coffee? And maybe some breakfast.

Get off my Island!

2011-11-05T00:01:00.000-07:00

I recently watched Off Limits, a show on The Travel Channel.

The host is Don Wildman , the show's bio page begins as such:

"Explorer and history buff Don Wildman is delving into the forbidden, hidden and unseen spaces across America."

I might have had a little mini personal orgasm reading that. It isn't the host (although, truth be told Donny boy ain't the least bit hard to look at *fans self*), it is the idea of what he is doing and where he is going to do it.

F.O.R.B.I.D.D.E.N places people!! (ya know, I'm going to pick shorter words next time I decide to use so many damn periods)

There are a plethora of travel shows, many of which I watch: Anthony Bourdain, Andrew Zimmern, That's About All I Can Think Of (which isn't really a show, but apparently I don't watch a multitude, just two - who knew? It felt like a plethora).

I love seeing the countryside, the people and especially the food. But often they don't venture into "Off Limits" places, those havens that are sheltered from the cruel outside world. I...me...should be allowed to go, because I...me...would be very appreciative and would leave it exactly as I found it.

I am awe struck by architecture, as well as dumbstruck by lore and histories.

Donny Wildman (o.k. so that HAS to be his T.V. name) is leading MY life!

Mostly.

The one and only show I watched showed him paddling out in a canoe to see a graveyard of tugboats in a desolate section of the New York waterway. That just SMACKS of sweaty work. The man has a CREW of people, fercryinoutloud, he couldn't have someone else row the damn boat?
Or better yet, something with a motor?

I'm not opposed to sweat (maybe a little), or dirt (as long as it isn't really dirty dirt...like poo kind of dirty dirt) or scary places (I'm good with those...mostly), but I AM opposed to itty bitty boats floating upon the ocean and looking like one big ass seal to a Great White. Big boat, even bigger motor...THEN I'll go. Otherwise, I can see the boat graveyard with a telescope from the shore.

Then Donny Boy went to visit Governors Island (in a big boat - I might start loving him again) and the battlement that never saw a war. Spectacular brickwork and arches that I could have wandered through for HOURS! One island had a small town, something right out of a historical movie - or maybe something historical movies are BASED on, either/or. It was originally a naval base, but no one can visit now, it sits unappreciated. You hear that, City of New York? Another island housed a very dilapidated structure that was once a grand looking castle, built and owned by an arms dealer...I believe. I forget the details, I was engrossed in the the structure and detail, not all the other stuff.

Then he went to an island that housed a hospital that housed smallpox patients at the turn of the 20th century. The history is gory and horrible and makes your heart hurt for the dismal environment the patients were forced to live in. But oh, what a feeling it must have been to stand among the ruins of this hospital.

I could probably go on and on, but I can't remember any more of the show.

I'm afraid to check the DVR for fear I haven't recorded any more episodes. But, it is a new show and as is with all new shows they tend to play the same episodes over and over...so perhaps I'll be able to see MORE places I'm not allowed to go! Isn't that awesome! {not really...about the not being able to go part, not the watching}

Golly, people...there is such a ginormously giant world out there and so much to explore.

Do you think the world is at explorer capacity?

Do you think I have a chance?

I'm not afraid of snakes like Indiana Jones was. Oh...and don't ask me who he was, 'cause if you have to ask...{eye roll}

I don't FULLY believe in ghosts or the Yeti or Bigfoot. I believe monsters are real, but that they are human - our news is full of them...so I'd make a perfect explorer, since I'm a natural skeptic!!

BUT...since I am not one to hold to 'absolutes', I am also able to explore with an open mind.

I am a full package, people!! Why isn't the Discovery Channel or TLC or The Travel Channel knocking down my door? They don't even have to pay me (...much, it's negotiable).

So, while I wait for them to beat a path to my door (oh, mental note to have Hubbypants mow the lawn) I will live vicariously through Donny, until the day comes when he'll be blowin' up my phone to tag along on my OWN f.o.r.b.i.d.d.e.n. adventures. (O.k., did we NOT just discuss all the little periods and shorter words?)

Just so you know, Don Wildman, I'm married. Just thought I'd give you a little time to come to terms with your loss.

How about you, Dear Reader? Are you up for adventure? Or are you an armchair explorer (not that there's anything wrong with that)? If so, are Off Limits/Forbidden discoveries your idea of fun or, perhaps, something else?

I'm listening......(said in my bestest Frazier voice - dude, DON'T even say you don't know who Frazier is - *double eye roll*).

Peace!

Got compassion?

2011-11-04T10:22:00.000-07:00

Every single day I thank myself for not being my 20 year old self.

20 is arbitrary. It could be 16, 18, 25, 43, 76...whatever.

My younger self was very black and white/right and wrong - with lightning fast judgement. She had an opinion and felt that everyone was entitled to it, it being so right and all. Righteous indignation would proceed my younger self into a room. What this younger self saw, was - she was SURE - how it appeared.

Need I cite the old cliche? Do I have to say, "Oh, how I wish I knew then what I know now?" (so, I guess that means yes).

Apparently I am a creature of extremes. Fast forward to my current self, who now has trouble forming a firm opinion about anything.

I started to think more deeply about this after reading this blog post, She Could Be On Of Them.

The idea is to explore how blogging has made you more empathetic, perhaps more compassionate and tolerant. I'm not sure whether writing has done that for me.

But, I do know what HAS.

Believe it or not, I think it is my fickle interests. A flighty leap from one project to the next. I'll explain (eventually and with many, many wordy-words).

In the last several years I've become a mom, my youngest 13 and my oldest racing toward 16. It isn't the raising of children that has brought about my ability to mimic Switzerland. It is meeting OTHER people with children, especially children who exist on the fringe of societal 'norms'. I've learned not to judge the parent pushing the obviously-too-big-to-need-a-stroller child through the mall, because that child might look like a 10 year old, but have the mental capacity of an infant. Or lack the ability to walk altogether. The 15 year old melting down because they can't have a candy bar at the checkout lane? Do you know FOR SURE they are what they appear? Can you say without doubt that he/she isn't autistic or dealing with some other cognitive issue? Can you?

In reality, why am I even questioning it? What's it to me? My 20 year old self would surly start in with the contemptuous staring and eye rolling. Because, of course, it is so much easier to leap toward worst case scenario than it is to think there might be more to the story.

It isn't just parenting that has lead to my ever increasing ability to straddle the fence.

I went back to school. I sat in a classroom with emerging adults, young people who possessed the body of an adult but lacked a larger world view. I listened to them talk definitively about life and love and how they had it all figured out. More cliche. I also learned that they were infinitely smarter than I originally gave them credit for. They felt passionately about their 'causes' or 'government' or ....whatever. They were inspired and on fire. How glorious it is to watch, because society has painted them as 'entitled' and 'spoiled' and 'lazy'. In my experience they were anything but. Oh, and another thing - when you pass that group of teenagers/young adults engaged in a conversation where 'fuck' is used every other word, don't be so quick to ghettoize them. In my own experience of being bombarded by that word on the college campus, I found it completely absent when they spoke to me OR to a teacher or other older adult. Their peer language is their own, it's how they communicate and...well...words are just that, words. Language evolves and the rules we make are arbitrary and specific to the time in which we live. I've found that how a person communicates has little to do with the intelligence swirling around in their brain.

Then there was the volunteering. Oh yes, THAT will serve you up a piece of humble pie that will make you choke. After 40 hours of training over several weeks I was set free to field calls on the rape crisis line for my county. Talking to people about their experience is very humbling. The training taught you to invest your belief in the victim, regardless. It didn't matter if you felt they were lying, or exaggerating. The reality is that you don't know. And really, does it matter? But talking isn't nearly as humbling as holding a 19 year old woman's hand while she is examined for evidence, this being her very first exam...ever. She was so angry and then also terrified at what her girlfriend would think, how she would react and if she'd still love her. The blame that I heard hurled at her through the cell phone as she spoke to her mother. The look in the girlfriends eyes and the lack of expression on her face when she came to pick up the victim. I can tell you for certain, it wasn't directed at the rapist. Ask yourself this; when you hear of a woman getting raped, what is the first thing that crosses your mind? Do you wonder where she was and why she was there? What was she wearing? Was she drunk? What could she have done differently to prevent it? And if you have, then I pass no judgement, because you've been conditioned to believe that it is our responsibility to ensure we are not raped. We are taught to interrogate the victim to find out if she provoked it in some way. {Please keep in mind that when I say 'she' it is because the majority of cases involve women, but men are victims as well.} As an advocate for a short 6 months I learned to stop needing to agree with a situation in order to be sympathetic to it. It doesn't matter if I think someone is being over dramatic. It doesn't matter if I feel their anger or worry is justified - it's their emotion, not mine.

The final component is my very short adventure into the world of tutoring. I, again, went through hours of training, this time to a tutor in my library's adult literacy program. I forget the actual numbers, but I believe in my county alone there are over 200,000 adults that cannot read past an 8th grade level. Many of them well below that. Wait! Before your mind wanders to the number of immigrants, understand that it isn't just language learners. The people I met, the kind souls who were willing to come speak to my group, were all native speakers - meaning born and raised in the good old U. S. of A. Language learners are indeed part of this group, but they are often literate in their own language. Not so with American adult learners. Can you imagine, being in your 40's or 50's or older and finally finding the courage to admit you need help and then actually reaching out for it. Well...try to imagine it and you'll find it very hard, because you can already read. It isn't easy to fine empathy for someone who is learning something that is so ingrained in you. Our LIVES are reading - not just for pleasure, but for the sake of our own health. You read the dosage info on pill bottles. You read how to mix cleaning chemicals to avoid asphyxiation. You read contracts to make sure you are not signing your life away or your savings. Adults lacking literacy skills are adept at hiding their inability to read. The people that entered the library reading program were finally at the point where they'd had enough of menial jobs, or being passed over for promotions or avoiding opportunities that would show how little they could read (if at all). I learned that whatever lead to that point is really incidental. They've been judged enough by everyone else and will continue to be judged, so how does it benefit me by adding to their pain? It doesn't make a difference to me that the reason the 30 year old man who thought it was much cooler to skip English class than sit and read is sitting in front me now, anxious to do something more with his life. Yes, he SHOULD have applied himself more. And, yes if he wasn't "such a slacker" (as I've heard people say), he wouldn't have to be doing this now. Does any of this matter? It doesn't to me. While I may silently think to myself, "Why did you make your life so hard?", it does nothing to curb my empathy for where this person is right now. The old saying, "You made your bed, now you have to lay in it", well...while I believe in taking responsibility for ones actions, I also believe that not all mistakes should lead to life long punishment. Oh, don't get me wrong, sometimes those I-told-you-so moments feel good, especially when it comes to my teenagers. But, when someone has opened themselves up and finally admitted, in whatever way, that they need help - well, my current self can't imagine not feeling that emotion in every part of my heart.

My 20 year old self would think differently about much of what I've said. My 20 year old self has also made a lot of mistakes that her current self is finally starting to forgive.

Everything I have done in the last 10 years of my life has been to try and become a better person as I see it. I don't think being completely neutral about everything is wise, I do realize that picking as side is *sometimes* the smart thing to do. Unfortunately, as we start coming into an election year and the more all of 'the parties' start spouting their own superiority, the more I find myself not only straddling the fence but building a moat around it - my goodness there is a whole lot of, "I'm right and your wrong" floating around out there. I don't understand it. I think it's just me. I think I can't pick a party, or stand on one side of the fence because I'm too busy trying to understand what each side is saying - and, to my horror, I sometimes agree with them...ALL of them. My head is a very crowded place to dwell and I admire people who can emphatically pick a position and stick with it- but then, what makes them so right? Ack...see??

Me, I'm going to stay here in my neutral space, put on my rose colored glasses and remain stubbornly optimistic. There is compassion everywhere, I see it daily. But sometimes we need to extend it just beyond our comfort zone, to people we don't - on the surface - feel deserve it. It's hard, trust me. Daily I try 100% and daily I fail 50%. I keep trying.

Peace.

Fear and Day 3 of NaBloPoMo - These things are not related?

2011-11-03T05:26:00.000-07:00

Last Minute Melissa. That's going to be my new name.

Tonight, while sitting around doing what I do best (...nothing...nada), I imagined a story idea. I sat down and allowed myself an hour to write and edit and...whatever.

This is the - highly unplanned, grossly un-thought-through -result.

Enjoy! Or not.

What happens when you wait...

This year is going to be different, she said to herself as she opened the large box of candy the UPS driver had just delivered.

Even her therapist was confident in her progress, telling her, "I really believe you'll be able to open door this year."

Such a long 10 years it has been, but the phone therapy was working. Granted, it was unconventional since most patients actually met with their therapist face to face. The thought used to frighten her, literally paralyzing her; preventing her from turning the door knob to leave her own house - her haven, so safe and non-threatening.

Halloween has always been a terrifying holiday. She hated the thought of it. The electrician thought her nuts for having the doorbell disconnected and the specially insulated, knock-deadening front door had cost her a fortune. But it was all worth it to not hear the creatures that prowled the night and sniffed around her safe place for 'treats'.

But 10 years. Ten years to get her to this one moment in time. This was the beginning of her new life as a participant in the ways of the world. She was not only going to open the door tonight...not only going to give the creatures candy, but she was going to step O.U.T.S.I.D.E. All of her, both feet, onto the front stoop.

The last few days had been a flurry of activity for her: listening to her meditation tapes, the soft calming music, avoiding the radio and television for fear of scary images. No newspapers or magazines, she had the mail carrier stop all mail delivery for the week.

She was not going to jinx her awakening.

She really just wished one small teensy weensy thing...that people would pick up their damn phones. Or at least return her calls. The whole reason she moved to this po-dunk small town was because it was so hospitable, so friendly - EVERYTHING could be delivered (she never had to leave the house).

And in the last 10 years, never a day had gone by where a merchant didn't answer their phone or a delivery person didn't show up to collect the money from the envelope on the door and leave her delivery in the special basket that she could pull inside - much like those food tray delivery systems in high security isolation cells in prisons.

Except for the last two days. The drug store never called back, the market - open 24 hours - just rang and rang.

Oh sure, she had her moment of panic when she thought something disastrous had happened to the entire human race, leaving her completely alone. She even had a moment where she thought that wouldn't be so bad. But then she remembered that there would be no one left to make the deliveries and the Internet would probably fail and then the power. After taking yet another anxiety pill she was able to reel herself back to reality. Besides, she had seen her neighbors scurrying about, bringing home bags and bags of groceries - probably candy - to celebrate Halloween night. Although, she doesn't remember them ever boarding up their windows. Probably a preventative measure for all those prankster teenagers. She never notice, because she'd always spent Halloween locked in her room, headphones on high to drown out the muted knocking.

Nothing to worry about, she told herself. She wasn't going to let her wild imagination cripple her tonight!

As the sun started to set she grabbed her coat and brand new folding chair. She'd bought the chair hoping that tonight would be a success and that she'd be able to slowly familiarize herself with the community beyond her door, meet the neighbors, enjoy a good book while sitting in the sun - her skin hasn't felt the touch of that ultra violet goodness in...well...10 years.

The first thing she notice when she stepped outside was the smell of burning wood. It was a cool night, but didn't seem cold enough for her neighbors to start stoking up their fireplaces. Oh, but it was Halloween and how cozy that must be. Was someone burning plastic too? And having a BBQ? She was a vegetarian, so the smell of burning meat was almost nauseating.

Not going to detour her, nope it wasn't.

The normally busy street was completely devoid of cars. Perhaps the street was closed off to traffic since there would be tons of children running around, back and forth across the street, hitting every house with candy gathering potential.

Minutes, many of them, ticked by and not one single child. Well, it wasn't completely dark yet. Maybe they changed the times - WAS there a time? Didn't they just crawl out of the woodwork when the sun started its descent into slumber?

They must have, because none of her neighbors had set out their Jack O' Lanterns yet. The houses were dark and gloomy, adding to the eerie effect of Halloween night. Oh, maybe that was the plan! She spent many days watching her neighbors coordinate their holiday decorations and plan their block parties. This must be another coordinated effort to put on a show for other less friendly neighborhoods.

She couldn't believe she'd missed out all these years. This was all so new to her, so much had changed since she was a child.

Then she heard it, the noise - low and moany, barely audible, almost like a whisper. It billowed down the street like a breeze.

She thought she saw movement, a large group of people slowly moving in a giant cluster.

This is it, her big moment and she was damned if she was going to miss it. She moved her chair right to the edge of her lawn. Her heart raced, this is the farthest she's ever been - so caught up in the excitement.

A solitary scream erupted from the end of the block, followed by another. It was an anguished, tortured, animalistic scream - just like she remembered from the old movies. Why didn't she think of getting one of those scary soundtracks to play for the Trick O' Treaters?

Next year...baby steps.

Then came the tinkling of broken class, then a bright light as flames erupted from the front lawn about 5 houses away. "Oh", she said out loud to herself, "a bonfire! I'm not ready for that kind of social interaction yet." She snorted, no...not yet, but some day...next year.

The hoard of people were getting closer, moving much slower than she would have expected candy hungry kids to move.

What a raggedy mess they were - each and every one of them in some sort of Zombie costume. "A flash mob!" she screamed! She'd read about them. They must be doing Thriller! She grabbed the bowl of candy, ready to test the effectiveness of her therapy and the strength of her anxiety medication.

When the group saw her, they started shuffling faster - so eager they were to perform. She didn't even panic when they surrounded her, nor when a hush went through the crowd.

They all stood there, staring at her. The smell was horrific, these actors played their part to the hilt. Authenticity is great and all, but a little deodorant wouldn't hurt.

Then, as if on a cue, they all moved in on her. Her mind was still trying to figure out how they all knew to move at the same time - never hearing anyone give the signal, when they started pulling on her.

She was a good sport, especially considering she was stoned on anxiety meds, but this was going too far. And then someone bit her, hard. And pulled her hair out in chunks. They ripped at her clothing and gnawed at her finger tips and then...when confusion had given way to understanding and when her endorphins took over, dulling the pain - she realized that today was NOT going to work out as she had hoped.

Had she listened to the news, or read the paper or engaged in conversation with the delivery kids during the week, she would have known of the intensely virulent, highly communicable virus that was turning people into monsters - the living dead, who - rather unfortunately for her - had a taste for human flesh.

If I were to venture a guess as to what a moral for this story would be, of which I'm not saying there IS a moral - but, sometimes people like to create one - then I would have to say that it is to not let your fears be the reins that guide your existence. If they do, you could end up in a pickle - or worse - with regrets.

This concludes day 3 of NaBloPoMo and a personal tour of Melissa's brain.

Ya'll come back now, ya'here.

Stoofed - NaBloPoMo Day 2

2011-11-02T10:24:00.000-07:00

NaBloPoMo has daily writing prompts - THANK THE BRIGHT AND SPARKLY STARS FOR THAT!

Here I am on day 2 of this writing venture and I find myself searching the house for my Creativity. It picks THE most inopportune times to play Hide & Seek.

So, after searching through cushions and under the couches and beds, at the bottom of the laundry bin and inside the closets...I've determined two things:

1) My house is an F'ing mess.

and

2) My Creativity probably isn't just hiding, it has - perhaps- asphyxiated from the dust wherever it was hiding. R.I.P. my dear fickle friend.

But lucky for you there is a prompt for today that will get me writing about one of my absolute favorite subjects - F.U.D. (that's food for those of you who are not all hip and cool like me).

If you knew that whatever you ate would be your last meal,
what would you want it to be?

Since the prompt doesn't say, "...last meal [as a human]...", I'm assuming that I will just be plain old b.o.r.i.n.g. dead and will not be returning as a Zombie or Vampire. I also have a sneaking suspicion that the prompt is expecting more of an answer than: "EVERYTHING, duh."

So, here we go.......

Dessert

Really...Did you think I'd save this for last? I'm dying people, get real - Viva la dessert first! I'd have tiramisu and coconut cream pie. Oooo, what if it were a coconut tiramisu? I think I just wet myself.

Appetizer

Cheese...lots and lots of cheese, a veritably orgy of cheese. I'd start with fried cheese, that I would dip in cheese...like blue cheese dressing {I wonder what cheese dipped in chocolate tastes like??} And maybe some warm brie that I'd smear on bread with fig jam....hell, I'd smear it all over me (the soon to be 6ft under are generally given a free pass to Crazyville - so why not smear it on, because then you really can take it with you).

Salad

Seriously, I'm going to be dead soon and as much as I appreciate and adore salads, it is just a waste of tummy space when one is facing the grim reaper...ya know? So, I'll have french fries instead - I already have blue cheese dressing to dip them in.

Main Course

Thai Curry Noodles with Thai Green Beans & fried Tofu. I've compromised with the veggie, since I've skipped the salad. I don't know what awaits me on 'the other side', so a tiny bit of healthy eating is just sort of hedging my bets - hence the tofu as well. I'd finish off the main course with a slice of pizza that I had flown in from New York, where I'm told the best pizza comes from...at least here in America. I don't think I could die and not try it.

Dessert

What? Oh...like you wouldn't eat dessert twice if you knew you'd be D.E.D. dead soon. This time it would be creme brulee...in a soup tureen - the biggest one I could find that would offer lots of surface space for the crunchy topping.

Drinks

Each course would be washed down with a different type of DOUBLE martini served in a hurricane glass. If I'm gonna go...I'm gonna go out as many sheets to the wind as I can manage without pulling my skirt up above my head and attempting to dance on a bar. The dying do need to have SOME dignity, ya know...

There you have it.

And, if for some reason the fates were wrong and this wasn't going to be my last meal...well then...I'm pretty sure this meal would slip me into a coma anyway. (Someone please make sure the I.V. is full of martini...it's been grand knowing you).

What about you?

Would your last meal be a sedate affair, quiet and contemplative?

Or, would you bring in the mariachi band, stuff your pie hole and dance yourself into the grave?

Cheers & Peace.

NaBloPoMo - So it begins...

2011-11-01T11:59:00.000-07:00

November 1.

And so it begins.

There is an ominous ring to the phrase, "And so it begins...", especially for me after just reading _The Strain_, in which very non-glamorous, UN-sparkly, devoid of sexiness vampires are taking over the world. This trilogy takes the viral, parasitic approach to vampiredom.

I found myself wondering: Would I rather be faced with a zombie apocalypse OR vampire apocalypse?

I'm not going to answer for fear of some sinister force hearing me and making it all really happen.

'Cause it could happen, you know...I've seen Shawn of the Dead and Zombieland.

But for the sake of THIS particular blog entry, the phrase "And so it begins..." is in reference to NaBloPoMo - a blog-a-thon, of sorts.

It is essentially a writing project, the theme for this month being to blog for blogs sake! It happens in other months of the year as well...but November happens to be the month in which the idea of NaBloPoMo was originally born.

In other words, just git yur writin' on!
Write for the sake of moving fingers across the keyboard.
Let letters form your thoughts and drag them kicking and screaming into phrases and paragraphs.

The challenge is to update every day for the entire month of November. There are prompts, ideas, help, warm fuzzies...everything a person needs to write until their fingers go numb.

Notice I didn't say everything a 'writer' needs?

This is an exercise of the mind, really. At least it is for me. Whether a person identifies with the label of 'writer' is irrelevant. Anyone can participate, write, express and discover whether their imagination has limits or is limitless. Either way, discovery of oneself and exploration into breaking new ground WITHIN that self is never a bad thing.

And so I decided to do it, since I often plunge head first into situations before checking for rocks. Sometimes my ventures fail, but since they have never been disastrous and I'm a slow learner...eh, whatever doesn't kill you only makes you stronger...or undead...either/or.

So...here we go...Day 1.

Annnnd...she's off!

Peace.

NaBloPoMo and Thirty - Oh yeah!!!

2011-10-29T09:33:00.000-07:00

30!!

THIRTY!!

Big Three Oh!

If this were my birthday, it would be more like "30 again...and again...and again...and..."

If this were my birthday, my kids would be saying, "Mom, didn't you turn 30 like last year...and for...like...the last 10 years or so...like?" which would prompt me to place an add on Craigslist to find them a new family...like.

But...

This isn't about birthdays (although, mine is coming in December - gift wish list coming soon)...it is about followers.

30 of you have found it in your hearts to 'follow' me and I'm honored.

So today I'm celebrating you!

If I had sponsors, I'd do a drawing and send the winner a gift. I'd want to send you ALL gifts, but you know how stingy sponsors are...pfft...

But I'm not cool enough/popular enough for sponsors, so I can't send you a prize and then...well...what if it was a really cool gift? Chances are I'd keep it for myself anyway - y'all would never know.

Or, I suppose I could make you something. Have I mentioned how {not} crafty I am?

Eh...you aren't here for the prizes. You are here 'cause you love me!! Or like me muches of bunches...oodles even!

And, while I am still bewildered as to WHY???, I want to let you all know that I very much appreciate you taking the time to go through the painful process of following someone on Blogger.

And, thank you for the time you take to read my blog and....AND...AND...for the effort involved in posting a comment.

You might think of it as a minor thing, but it makes my day. (I'd make all sorts of little hearts, but Blogger would mutate them to some weird-ass symbol...so pretend they are here)

And...the whole purpose of this is to let you all know that I plan to participate in NaBloPoMo, which is - in a nut shell - blogging every day the entire month of November. It's like a real event and everything....In-ter-na-tion-al even!

I could win stuff!!

But that isn't my motivation, mostly.

The idea, for me, is to give myself a mental challenge along with a physical one. This is like exercise for the mind and body.

The reason for telling you this is to warn you that I will be striving to update daily and to ask that you stick with me.

Why, you ask?

Well, because I typically don't update every day which gives you plenty of time to miss me between posts ('cause you know that you do...smooch)...some would say get a break from me, but we know there is a giant hole in your existence when I don't update.

You won't get such an opportunity [to miss me] in November. It's me, baby...every day... for an entire month!

I'm going to ignore that eye roll you just did and assume it was euphoria induced, m'kay...

So...Happy Weekend, my follower-friends, rest those eyes and limber up that brain, because there is NO TELLING what'll be happenin' up in herrre this coming month.

Peace!

p.s.
If you un-follow me based on this post, I understand. But I know where you live {not really} and I'll come find you...[cue sinister music/maniacal laughter].

p.s.s.
Plus, there will be prizes {not really}.

p.s.s.s.
{not really}

Got Skillz?

2011-10-27T10:00:00.000-07:00

Hello. My name is Melissa and I'm a Wannabe Suzie Homemaker.

There, I said it.

Would I like a career as well?

Damn skippy.

But right now, I'm 'mom' and I'm 'home' and I'm relatively...mostly...on odd numbered days...happy with it.

I had a conversation recently with a friend about skills, specifically my lack of them.

To be clear, these are *technical* skills that you'd use in a cave, um...I mean...office - where they give you a little 3x3 space and a phone and computer and they hook you up to the life sucking machines (a.k.a. they turn you into a manager) then make you talk to these creatures called 'customers' who are something akin to the Yeti or Sasquatch that can only speak through screeching howls and grunts.

I'm sure that isn't all office jobs...don't let my experience taint your opinion - but you know I'm right.

I do have a lot of mad skillz - you can tell by my use of a 'z' in place of an 's'. It's the sign of someone truly skilled. If you have to ask, then you...my friend...are not part of the skillz elite (with a 'z').

So, while I'm home making my presence a very annoying constant in my children's lives, I am working on improving my domestic-ness - which includes trying to save money.

So, I went to the store and spent almost $200 on stuff so that I can make other stuff from scratch - but cheaper, ya know.

Or so I'm told.

I may, possibly, be slightly out of touch with reality.

Let's take a little peak into Melissa's reality, shall we (you might want to sit down, it's one of those spinny-dizzy rides).

You didn't expect this, did ya? That my reality would start with butter...

Well...if you have a teenage son who insists on buttering the entire surface of his toast - leaving no nekkid spots - then you no doubt hear "cha-ching" in your head as you watch. You also know, that if you were to just buy butter in the stick it would be hard and lumpy and your son would be bitchin' and moanin' about it tearing the bread. Solution, butter mixed with canola oil. If you've bought it in the store, you've then had your second "cha-ching" moment of the day. Solution? Make it your-own-damn-self with your trusty mixer and canola oil and whip-it, whip-it REAL good!

Viola, cheaper spreadable butter - SHAZAM! You now have a conversation with son about the evils of butter, heart disease and that slathering now will come back to haunt his ass later.

My reality also includes flour and yeast.

A friend asked me on Facebook if I was a "hand kneader or machine kneader", knowing that I was making bread. My first response was wondering how long it would take the conversation to turn naughty. Because, really...can you ask such a thing WITHOUT it turning naughty? Especially when also discussing such things as "rise" and the number of inches your pan is (10 by the way). SEE!!! You went there, didn't you...??

Back to bread.

The flour turns into this (notice the plastic wrap - always use protection...I mean cover to protect the dough):

And then it becomes this...

To eventually become this...

Anyone can make bread. Not everyone can make good, EDIBLE bread.

I've succeeded at edible, the daunting task of 'good-fluffy-make-a-sammich-with-it' kind of bread is still just beyond my grasp. BUT I'M NO QUITTER. (one of them skillz I have)

After I made bread and cleaned up the mess - well, after I attempted to make bread and botched it, I cleaned up THAT mess only to RE-attempt and NOT botch the second attempt to make yet ANOTHER mess that I also had to cleaned up. (more of my mad skillz)

I bet right now you are sitting in your little 3x3 cave thinking that you've got it pretty damn easy that you are not sporting dish-pan hands. You probably won't get the term 'dishpan hands' if you didn't watch a lot of T.V. when you were a kid. Provided you were a kid when I was a kid...which was like only a few years ago. WHAT??

So...2 messes a day (or like 10 or 12) isn't enough for me, so I decided I need to make taco seasoning. Those little envelopes you buy have weird stuff in it and oodles of salt that you should avoid because your heart will go kaput on you and then you'll be D.E.D. dead. Which, is a sorry state to be in, if you ask me...unless you're a Zombie, then technically you are UN-dead and could probably eat all the salt and fat you want because by that point, who cares?

This is what it takes to whip up a taco seasoning that is much like what you buy in the envelopes. It was rather tasty and much better for you!

Look at how nicely they all posed for me.

Finally, the topper of the day...dessert.

I made chocolate ice cream in keyoot!! little jars for a dinner guest that ended up not being able to come. Phooey.

But, that just means more for me...I mean more for us, as a family...right....

So that's what I do.

This is my current, albeit short list, of skillz that I've been cultivating since I've been home with my kids the last 13 years.

I'm sure that some people reading this will shake their heads and think, "Really? That's it? That's your life?

The short answer is, "Yes and No". That's all you'll get, because you won't understand.

Sure, Hubbypants could drop dead tomorrow (unlikely, since he's been rather good and hasn't inspired me to poison him lately) and then I'd be in a heap o' poo.

Anything could happen...it could be me that drops dead, but then my family would starve. So, I'll make sure to avoid it at all costs.

The reality is that I'm not going back to work in the immediate future (Hubbypants will read this and immediately calculate how much longer he'll have to put off retirement), so then how does one cultivate skills when there are no immediate plans to return to work outside of the home?

What do you do to stay current? And then, what if you don't want to return to the old way of working, before kids and being a 'home-maker' (which is a term that I think unfairly excludes working parents...just my opinion)?

There is a huge disconnect in the perception that a person can keep up marketable skills if they've been out of the 'market' so damn long.

That isn't the same case with part time people, self employed folks, etc. If you've dabbled while home, then you've kept somewhat fresh. But if you've been out...like WAY THE FUCK OUT...of any working environment then you are stale as a moldy potato chip. If that is the case, you can't just tell that moldy chip to go develop some skills that they won't be using, because they have no immediate plans to join the Zombies...I mean workforce (come on, you've seen Shawn of the Dead, right?).

Now that I've purged my thoughts on this subject, I'm going to be less inclined to dismiss what I do to help my family.

I'm trying to save money, because I'd like to take a real vacation some day.

I'm trying to feed them better, because despite their rants, fits and occasional smelly-ness, I love my family immensely and I want them to be as healthy as possible.

I'm trying to be here for my kids after school, because I was that kid home alone and hated it. And my kids are also coming into a stage where all sorts of things can go wrong in the blink of an eye. Teenagers - need I say more?

I'm doing all this because I can, I've been lucky to be able to 'work' from home. And while I may currently only qualify to spin an advertising banner on a street corner, I will still be confident that I am not completely devoid of skillz. They just might not translate into something our busy high tech world deems useful- but if you think about it, we all have to eat. So there.

But I'm a quick learner. It only took me 13 years to learn to make bread - in geological terms that is faster than a blink of an eye! See...there is hope for me yet!

Peace.

p.s.
There is a chance that this post is a mash up of two entirely different topics, that I've force together to make a point of which I'm still not entirely clear on. Just thought you should know.

p.s.s.
It was not my intent to insult Zombies. Some of my best friends are Zombies, until they try to eat me...then it's on like donkey kong!

p.s.s.s.
I haven't been sleeping well and my brain is somewhat fuzzy, therefore the content of this post may be best read with a class of something 80 proof.

Have a nice day.

It was a gift...

2011-10-24T10:46:00.000-07:00

Compliments are a work of art - a gift by the giver and a trinket for the receiver to cherish.

Compliments are made even more special when they are unexpected, as if the giver was waiting in a dark room to yell "SURPRISE".

Sometimes you see them coming, it's easy to do if you are paying attention to the conversation. A topic will come up, say...food...and your friend may say, "Oh, you make the best whatchacallits ever!" To which, someone like me will reply, "Oh...they are so easy anyone can make whatchacallits. It isn't even my recipe, I stole it from..."

Mission accomplished, compliment deflected....or passed along to, who I believe is, the proper recipient.

Sometimes compliments come along in the least likely of places, and you are FORCED to keep it because you didn't even see it coming.

The first compliment of this past weekend came from my aunt (who I SWEAR I will call back today, I PROMISE). I sent her a card, because she is massive amounts of awesome and I love her dearly and miss her daily. I can't even remember what the card said, or what I said, but it inspired her to call me and thank me profusely, but then she did it. She deflected it back to me and through her incredible Best Auntie In The Universe powers, she made it stick to me - VIA A PHONE MESSAGE. You can't learn talent like that, you are born with it. I didn't save the recording, because if I listen to it again I'll cry. I'm a HUGE CRY BABY.

And I haven't called her back yet - mostly because I've been busy, but partly because I don't want to unstick the kindness that has been trying to burrow into my brain in an effort to prove to me that compliments won't kill me. When I call her, she'll say wonderful things to me again (she always does, but these wonderful things are because of nice things I said to her first - this is sounding more like game of compliment tag). Hmm....

WARNING**THIS IS NOT A PHISHING EXPEDITION FOR MORE COMPLIMENTS* Please be advised that this is how my brain works - like it, love it, hate it, disbelieve it...the knowledge is now yours to deal with.**

The second compliment came in a haze of inebriation. I am always one to question the authenticity of a compliment (and a statement or story or memory or...) when the person has imbibed heavily - but I've decided that dissecting it is far less fun than accepting it.

Here is some background: Rumor has it that Hubbypants speaks well of me when I'm not around, which is one of the many reasons why I don't try to kill him in his sleep. This past weekend Hubbypants and I went on a brewery hop bus tour with some of his homebrewing friends. I chatted with some very nice people, whom I cannot name because I cannot remember shit - BUT I NEVER FORGET A FACE. Anyway, at the last stop, shortly before boarding the bus home one of the gentlemen commented on how I had lived up to and surpassed the image Hubbypants had created for me (perhaps not in those words, but I got the gist). That, my friends, was an example of a complimentary-cling-on -one that leaves you a bit speechless and in complete lack of a comeback. I was forced to keep it.

I'm still struggling with where to place it, though. Which is a typical Melissa thing to do.

Do I place it in the vault to cherish and think back upon (along with all the others) when I need a lift?

Or, do I set it on the "things-people-say-to-be-nice" shelf where it will whither away due to lack of belief?

I've done the latter A-LOT! There are compliments on that shelf collecting dust that probably shouldn't be there, but it is what I do. I know I'm not alone, you probably do it too...in your own way.

So, I've decided to take it to heart, because unless I strap the man down and hook him up to a lie detector I'll never know how much truth was sprinkled onto his words. And I've decided that it isn't for me to decide. He gave those words to me and took the trouble to wrap them up in party paper and a bow. I love packages and surprises and pretty things - so who am I to question this gift?

I'll take it, BOTH of the compliments, and I'll display them proudly, right here...THANK YOU.

Jitters by thy name...

2011-10-19T10:40:00.000-07:00

Sleep is something that has been hard for me since having my first child over 15 years ago.

Then I had thyroid surgery a year ago that all of a sudden had me sleeping like the dead.

The dead are a well rested bunch, I can attest to that!

This was after my thyroid was removed and before going on the medication I will now take for the rest of my of my life.

I slept soundly and wonderfully for months! I was even able to take a nap during the day AND sleep at night - falling asleep before 2 or 3am! It. Was. Awesome.

A glorious time that I sure do miss it.

But, I had sporadic energy and if I did ANYTHING big that required expending that energy, then it would take a few days for me to recover. I don't miss that.

Close to 2 months ago my blood test showed that my thyroid hormone was leveling out (almost a YEAR after surgery - my body doesn't do ANYTHIGN quickly) and rising. A big "no no" for my doctor. So, she increased my medication and I did a little happy dance..."YEAH BABY, MORE DRUGS!!"

This is now my brain on drug (no plural, I'm only on one drug).

I feel like a South Park character - just call me Jitters.

I'm back to frequently interrupted sleep, or even nights where I hardly sleep at all.

I'm sometimes jittery, wanting to crawl up the walls. Sometimes with a racing, pounding heart...sometimes with a throbbing throughout my body.

Weird. Ass. Shit.

My brain has been foggy since surgery {some would argue that was the case LONG before surgery}, but now my thoughts jump from one thing to the next. I take an idea and run with it, until I have no idea what to do next and then spend time walking into rooms and wondering why the hell I went there to begin with.

Yeah, yeah, everyone does that. But I do it as if I've been snorting straight caffeine minus the coffee, cream and sugar.

I'm just W.I.R.E.D.

And one would think, with this influx of git-r-done, that I'd accomplish something.

Well I haven't and I don't. I'm too scattered. I don't know where to start...because I do get tired, sinking into a state of sleepless exhaustion, where I don't want to move and sleep stands just beyond my grasp.

So, I've had enough. I've grown impatient with the idea of getting used to this feeling, hoping that some day I'd like it.

I emailed my doctor, but she's out of town until late next week....and so I deal with it, for now.

I may just skip a pill...possibly two. Or, I can take my pill and eat within 30 minutes, inhibiting my ability to absorb the hormone. Tricks o' the trade.

I'll need to revisit the Vampires and have them test whatever blood they don't stash away in their snack drawer to see if my thyroid level is low enough to adjust my current dose.

Until then, I'm going to battle my buzz with exercise and decaf.

I'm looking forward to that feeling of balance again...and maybe even a full nights sleep.

Oh...AND in case you are interested in the side effects of taking a thyroid drug...take a gander:

weight loss (still waiting for this to kick in, any day now if you please)
tremor (I've started calling them my own personal earthquakes).
headache
nausea
vomiting
diarrhea (thankfully I've skipped these last 4 bad boys...whew)
stomach cramps
nervousness (can you say "jitters", I knew that you could...)
irritability (don't get my family started on this one)
insomnia (HAHAHAHAHAHA...sigh)
excessive sweating (wring me out)
increased appetite (um, apparently this effect didn't get the same memo as #1)
fever
changes in menstrual cycle
sensitivity to heat (excessive sweating, hello...)
temporary hair loss, particularly in children during the first month of therapy

If you experience either of the following symptoms, call your doctor immediately:

chest pain (angina)
rapid or irregular heartbeat or pulse ( always a fun one, wondering where that pounding is coming from and then you realize it is from INSIDE you...fun, fun!...and when you do tell your doctor, she doesn't appear particularly concerned, so don't believe the "call your doctor immediately" speal...pfft....)

Compare the above with the effects of being HYPER-thyroid, which for me is medically induced, because technically I'm HYPOthyroid....'cause I don't have one (a thyroid) anymore.

Palpitations
Heat intolerance
Nervousness
Insomnia
Breathlessness
Increased bowel movements
Light or absent menstrual periods
Fatigue
Fast heart rate
Trembling hands
Weight loss
Muscle weakness
Warm moist skin
Hair loss
Staring gaze

My favorite is the "staring gaze"...that thing I do when I enter a room to do the thing I went in there to do...but forgot what it was I was going in there to do. Yeah...THAT gaze.

Whinefest Wednesday is complete - time to accomplish something other than a Facebook status update.

I know this will pass...blogging about it is just a way for me to dump a little frustration somewhere other than on my family - getting it out here helps. My life is great, I'm healthy despite a few hiccups and s'allll goood.

Peace and Happy Hump Day, y'all!

He and Me

2011-10-16T21:25:00.000-07:00

Conversation with Hubbypants:

He: "I want a funeral procession."

Me: "What happened to being cremated?"

He: "You need to get from the church to...wherever you are going next, so...procession."

Me. "Mr. Religion-is-the-root-of-all-evil wants a church service now?

He: "You STILL have to get from wherever my many admirers gather to send me off to
wherever the food is being served."

Me. "Yea, so I throw your box of ashes in the trunk and cart your ass home and we BBQ. Done and done." (need to up the insurance policy to cover funeral food)"

He. "I want a procession so that I can fuck up traffic. During commute time would be good."

Me. "So, you want a procession of Prius' then? I wonder if Enterprise will give us a group rate? We can leave the back open and then let your ashes float off into the wind fucking up traffic
for HOURS!"

This conversation happened while watching an episode of Storm Chasers where a huge tornado had ravaged a town and the 'chasers' stopped to watch a funeral procession.

We would have been far more sensitive to the seriousness of the situation had we actually been there. I'm sure. Probably.

And in other news ===>

Well...there isn't other news.

Sorry.

I'm tapped out. I'm pooped (as in exhausted..not, you know...#2). Eww....

I'd tell you about my efforts to find a good recipe for sourdough starter, but you can't discuss food when you've already discussed poop.

I wish I had something witty for y'all.

But I don't.

And I won't.

Until I stop being obsessed with making stuff...or fundraising.

I think it's a sickness.

Or lack of a day job.

Or not enough wine...to help me forget about being obsessed with making stuff.

So, I'm going to post this and see if anyone notices.

And then I'm going to bed, because obsessions need rest and brain power to thrive.

I can at least manage the rest part.

G'nite.