You're Forever My Girl

It is a beautiful spring morning, April 26, 2008. The trees along our block are all in bloom with white or pink buds, it’s very palatial. As if I am in another date and time. And I am.
Twenty-six years ago today, I was laboring with my third child. With a four year daughter and a not quite two year old son at home anxiously awaiting the birth of what we thought was “their baby brudder, Abner”. I had shared with my not quite two year old son that if the baby was a brother, his name would be Andrew, and if it was a sister, her name would be Abbie, how he came up with Abner I have no clue, but it’s been a funny part to our family story.

Having had the other two children by natural childbirth methods (breathe and push, and ENDURE!!!!) as was so popular in the 70’s and early 80’s, and having labored a long, LONG 30+ hours with each, I wasn’t surprised when my labor started off long and progressed slowly. Waiting at home until I thought she was practically hanging out, I arrived at the hospital, the day before my proposed due date, dilated only 2 cm.

2 cm. The dreaded words I longed to hear. I thought that I was ready to push for God’s sake, and I am, the minute this snotty nurse turns her back…but two- disappointing- cm. !!! After all the laboring I did at home? This is crazy!

But labor did progress, and soon I was delivering (on my due date I might add, the first and probably only time that I was ON TIME!). I so wanted to watch this time, with my glasses on so I could see, trying not to scrinch my eyes as I pushed and panted, trying to keep them wide open. Better for viewing.

As you crowned, the doctor told me about seeing your hair, and soon they adjusted the large mirror so that I could see your face. Your lightly colored hair all slick and sticking up, your perfectly round head (like Charlie Brown!) coming through the canal that was all mine, with your EYES wide OPEN! You were trying to focus on the world, even before the rest of your tiny little body was through it's warm little cocoon. I still didn’t know if you were an Abner or an Abbie.

And then I knew. You popped into this world, very little pain, no need for episiotomy, thank you very much, eyes wide open and when they wrapped you and put you in the Isolette next to me. You, amazed them all by reaching around for the edge of the blanket and tucking it into your palm, sucked your thumb. You were our Abbie girl.

And that’s how you have lived your life ever since. Eyes wide open, searching for adventure. Until you were three you were so content to explore just within the family and home. As a baby, you never fussed alot. Hell, you slept through the night the night that we brought you home from the hospital, so not wanting to intrude yourself. And like so many other babies with older brothers and sister, you endured calmly all the poking of their tiny fingers into your eyes and cheeks, as they tried to haul you around.

These are all familiar stories to you, I’ve repeated them over the years (but not to the readers…ok, the two maybe that read! How DO you get readers anyway?) You grew up, and left the nest. Oh, my baby, did you have to go so far away? Off to Colorado. We speak almost every day. But I can’t share with you all the day to day things that I share with Sarah. I’ll miss you today, as I celebrate, deep within my heart, my special day with you.
Happy Birthday Bean. I love you, Mom

“And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of children.
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
Taken without permission from “The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran”

What The F*$+ Friday

What the heck is this?
Does her mother know that she posed for this photo? and that it's rated one of the worst "gaming tattoo" on the Internet? I thought it was a raunchy fashion statement. I'm looking for some jewelry to go with an outfit "I think I'll tat some on".

And dig the "bra". This is a POSTER CHILD for those of you considering tat's.
I 'd say, um, don't? A bunch of the ladies at work yesterday were discussing body art. I'd always joked that if ever I decided to get a tattoo, it would be one of "Where's Waldo". Remember him? Cute as a darn button, and difficult to find. The craze of the 80's coffee table books, about the time I thought I was sassy enough to be able to flirt someone into looking for Waldo on my much leaner body. Hidden between the stretch marks! Ha! Cover your eyes Joe!
I'm sure that when all you young moms out there who kiss the sweetness that is your tiny baby's skin, you will cringe at the thought of Miss Pac Man's appearance on their tush.
I guess to each his own! That is the wonderful, crazy thing I LOVE about people. They never continue to fascinate me! Have a Great Friday everyone!

OMG-This JUST IN

Girls, Girls gather around....I'm so very X-cited.
Seems the fact that I've only lost about four pounds, on this weight loss plan, AND the fact that I borrowed a nifty waist cinching strapless device from my dear co-worker, Bonnie, I have in fact been able to cram into my dress for the wedding!
Yes, MY God, it's true.
AND I could sit down. OH the joys of starvation and undergarments.
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There would be a cool picture here of the bustier, but blogger couldn't upload it today...maybe tomorrow???
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It is DAMN amazing! There isn't too much fat/flab/skin hangin around my mid waistline, and the back fat (or back bacon as Danielle would say) is tucked neatly away. Away where, I cannot quite figure, but I think if I get some amazing Control top pantyhose, I will look absolutely stunning in the Neiman Marcus FREE (did I mention FREE) two piece mother of the bride type dress in celery green that I have been saving for this event. It was given to me with the TAGS STILL ON (swoon) and it's never ever been worn or danced in or ANYTHING.

I will be able to dance with my husband and not worry that he will be fingering layers of flab under the thin fabric of my absolutely FRIGGIN FABULOUS (did I mention FREE) 100% silk dream of a dress.

I must be on the hunt for some fab jewelry to accent this. I was so worried about not being able to fit into it, and have to find a last minute replacement for the wedding at -GASP- full price.

Tra LA, I will skip dessert tonight and tomorrow night too, because I need to have some room for a cocktail or two with dinner.
Ok, carry on with whatever you were doing when I rudely interrupted you so.

RTT or Random Tuesday Type Thoughts

It’s been a good day. Got my emissions tested after work and I passed! (The crowd roars in excitement that my ’98 Olds-paid-for-automobile would pass, thanks to my husband, Mr. Man, and the handy use of some gum and duct tape)

Its 70 degrees outside, and sunny.

Although work was mostly boring, the afternoon was stirred up by a new patient who wanting to use our laboratory services, called for directions and indicated that he needed some help getting out of the car and into a wheelchair to come in. We sent a girl from registration, which is also a medical assistant out to assist him. She tried, but honestly, you can’t come into the health care center without your pants. Yes, when she went to the driver’s side door and opened it, the gentleman didn’t have his pants quite, well, on.
They were there - but he was a larger man, and the pants didn’t come up to his thighs. So, with his entire Biz-ness showing, he just drove on to the medical center for a lab draw.
Scares you to take your youngsters out on the road now doesn’t it? His left arm was not operational, and he couldn’t move his legs, because of the swelling and the obvious pants around his thighs constricting it so.
Ahhhh, just Tuesday. Just another Tuesday in a day in the life.

The cable guy is here.
The on-going cable/phone/internet problem that we have been having has caused yet another visit by the cable guy. Scary cable guys. Most wanting to blame our cordless phones, our new high end big screen digital television, or even Mother Nature. Not the cable services. The guys talk in words and symbols written in "call out" clouds above their heads. He lost me at "Hello", I couldn't get past his bad haircut and grubby cut off pants. (they were cut to just below the knee, like Capri pants for women - don't get me started on Fashions for Cable Dudes)


Did you ever notice how much our language now depends on initials? We use initials in our every day conversations, regardless on whether or not we know that the other person knows what we’re talking about. It's totally socially acceptable, but rude how we think that we're so knowing and cool. How highly we think of ourselves! Oh, how internet users abuse the “initial-speak”. LOL, for Gosh sakes. And healthcare workers are so darn guilty, as is the corporate world. “You have a DVT, and with your CHF your NBC is affected with your CBS.” Or something like that. The corporate office is closed for CNNR and will be likely to stay closed during random HVTD time, that is of course if you are hooked into DLMN, and are CST or EST. If you are not on CST or EST, you can connect via CSNNR transmission. I say “huh”? Play along, and you seem intelligent, and they (the speaker) acts smug, poignantly so. With a smirk on their face, the initial speaker touts you to engage. I can’t because I’ve no clue as to what they are talking about.
Oh, don’t you be so smug, you who reads stuff on the internet. You too are guilty I’m sure.
Imagine someone of a different age group than yourself…they are lost in your assumption that anyone knows what E.T. stands for! If it hadn’t been for Steven Spielberg, none of you would have known either.
Shame on all of us!
TTFN. (Tigger of Pooh)

TGIF

I have a sore throat. Scratchy and sore.
I made some toast, yum. It feels so good going down. Now the house smells so good, like I’m cooking some fab meal for dinner. Boy won’t Mr. Man be surprised when it’s frozen stir fry, instead of some luxurious meal I’ve slaved over.

Ahhhh, TGIF. Work this week has been kinda slow and boring. I collected paper clips off of some old records and shredded them. (Yeah, I KNOW, I should have just went home!) Had some time to think whilst shredding. I thought I’d share some pet peeves with you.

Toss these around, do they bug you too?

1. Bad customer service. Yes, even from the 16 yr. old pimply drive through boy who takes my fast food bag and crumples my burgers, telling me that he got called into work when he wasn’t EVEN scheduled and he doesn’t want to be here now, because it’s too nice outside. Thanks for your order. Or, the short little young thing that gives me a lecture each and every time I buy a pack of “now and again” cigarettes, like I don’t know how bad they are for me and others with my second hand smoke - and I am so polite, but I’m going get her someday soon. I hope I don’t make CNN when I do. Mind your own bee’s wax girlie. Does everyone buying condom’s get a lecture too?

2. Annoyance sets in when someone engages me in a story, or conversation by asking me a distinct question, then does not listen to the answer I give. They also look around, like I can’t see their eyes looking over my shoulder, they are clearly not listening. I should tell them some outrageous thing, like, I’m sleeping with your father, mother, husband…fill in the blank. Hey sister, did that get your attention? Maybe I should just walk away.

3. When someone comes to visit your house, and upon entering states that they hate:
Cats (when they know that you have one) dogs, (same deal) green (the color of your living room) and proceed on in only to plop down and expect you to be happy to visit with them. I could smile and sweetly say, have you gained weight? Something looks so different about you.

4. Here's another I'm sorry to admit. I’d rather not watch midgets perform on T.V. There, I’ve said it. Not counting the Roloff’s, whom I find engaging, I don’t like to watch midgets PERFORM. You know, like Mini Me. It disturbs me. The exploitation of it.

5. Have you ever engaged in a nice conversation with an acquaintance and they start using proper names of people you don’t know in a manner that suggests you know who they are talking about. Like this, “ We had a great time this weekend, we went over to Seth’s and Marge’s and little Kyle had a cute raincoat on!” Who the heck is Seth, Marge and little Kyle? Or, I had one friend who only used HE or SHE etc. out of context, like "I wonder when HE is coming over?" and I never knew what or who she was talking about. I spent all my time, saying “who’s he? Your son?, No, your husband? Oh, your Boss….Ahhhhh. Drove me bonkers. I'd avoid her just because I couldn't follow her conversations.

That’s it for now. Those are enough, I know.
Not like I’m a control freak or something.

Oh, yeah, I forgot to talk about the misuse of the word “dude”. I’m a freaking middle aged woman and the kid at the gas station called me DUDE. I hate that.

I Got Nuthin

I've nothing to say to you. I've been have a really strange week, up and down. Really creative one minute, sleeping the next. The weather around here is really changing, cold in the morning, sunny and in the 70's in the afternoon, will drop to 40 degrees in the evening. It really is Spring.

I typed a witty little post yesterday, but OH, no, you won't read it here. I typed and typed and then got booted of my wonderful Internet connection. I had no phone, no Internet and no cable...hint hint, guess who my carrier might be with a trio like that.
So, I called them and spend about a good hour on my cell phone standing on one leg in the driveway talking to "Steve" who kept putting me on hold while he "tried one more thing". My cell lost it's power (because I forgot to recharge it) and we disconnected.
Steve didn't call back.
But the connection was back. All my typing was gone.
So now...I got nuthin...talk amongst yourselves a minute.

nope, still nothing. Well, when whatever my mind has lost has returned, I'll be back.

Planted

While I wish for springs warm and hope filled days, I spend a little bit of time checking out my flower beds - watching for signs of life of course, and avoiding critters of any kind. (spiders, rolly polly bugs, centipedes, and nests of bunnies all curled up in fur and dry dead grass)

I love the smell of the soil. It's different scents of rotting remainders from last years plantings and of the bits of sprouts from this seasons promises.

I love to poke around in my little beds and see if I can get anything to "take". I went to some gardening web sites, and was appalled at my lack of knowledge regarding all that is green. (for those who know me well, I love green, always have, it's my signature color.)

Most of what I like to plant, is like a scrapbook of remembrances. I never really realized it until we "lost" the peonies.

I always wanted to grow peonies. My mother had a row of peonies in the back section of our back yard where we had lived when I was four. I remember vividly hearing my mother talking about the peonies, which were bushy, and came up to my knees...our dog, Rudy, peed on them. I got it! Pee-o-knees. My little mind put it all together! We transplanted some a few years ago into our backyard, but I think we planted them too deep, in an area that was too moist. Got nothing.

I loved to hear "the ladies" talk about flowers in their gardens.

My mother, used to plant four o'clocks. When she wanted to collect the seeds for next year's batch, she would give me a baggie, and send me out to pop and collect the black seeds, which were hard, and of a good size for 4 year old fingers to pluck from the seed pocket. It always seemed to be afternoon when she sent me out to do this task, so I assumed it was 4 o'clock. That's how one told time.

My aunt, my mother's sister, grew all kinds of delights. She favored me, and in the summer when I spent the weekend at her house, we'd water her flowers. She'd tell me the names of the different kinds of plants and flowers (mostly because I bugged her to do so!) and let me pick a bunch or two for a vase inside the house. This was very, very dramatic for me. I dreamed of wealthy homes, with vases full of bouquets of fresh flowers. I picked a neat floral bouquet from her hillside, which was a weed called the snot flower. It was pretty, with it's blue bell shaped flower, but it's stalk had a lovely, mucous like substance that stuck like snot in sinewy strands to your hands and ran down your arms. Cool.

They wilted in a vase.

She also grew raspberries. The best raspberries ever! They produced twice a year, and were called ever bearing. Although prickly, there was nothing that could beat the taste of sun warmed berries plucked right from the vine to your mouth. They melted away. I have a few starts of her vines, although among them was a wonderful vibrant plant, that grew amazingly stronger with each application of Miracle grow I gave to it. It outshone all the other starts I got out of her garden. About five days later, and hours of itchy fun, I realized I was cultivating a wonderful healthy patch of poison ivy. After my husband plucked it out of the ground, the raspberries did grow. And we enjoy them Spring through Frost!

When I was all of seven, we lived in Colorado at the time, a neighbor lady had a huge flower bed of snap dragons. She spent many a day listening to me putter around on the other side of the chain link fencing that separated our backyards. So kind of her I realize now, she often popped the flower head off one of the snap dragons and pinching the end, it became a little puppet. I was delighted with those! And they had cool seeds too. When the little heads were finished, they became a seed pod that when you squished it, produced thousands of tiny black seeds. Smaller than those of a pansy.

Pansies were another favorite, along with moss roses. Another neighbor lady when I was around nine had beds of both, and would give me a white envelope and ask me to gather the seeds. Each were as thrilling! Popping the seed pocket of the Pansie and plucking the cap off the moss rose, to find a hidden treasure of life's promise of renewal.

(I guess I had a thing with seeds)

Does anybody remember Balsams? They are tall, fragrant stalks of flowers, with the neatest seed pods. The pods resembled that of a milk weed plant except only about 1/2 an inch in length. When they were ripe for harvesting, you could press the fuzzy pod, and all the sides would pop and curl up like a banana peel. Delight!

Come to think of it, it's not spring so much that I anticipate, but the harvest of Fall that I love so much!

The generosity of the time that the neighbor ladies, my aunt, my mom spent in sharing little bits of gardening with me was precious and thoughtful. I passed that on in my little girls, my step-daughter and my granddaughter who loved to help me plant the seeds and gather them in the fall. It's funny how every living thing that blooms holds a special memory for me. Does it to you?

This spring, plant something that does. Nurture it and watch it grow, and then collect the seeds. Hopefully each year, you'll get enjoyment from the familiarity of it.

Blaaag Friday

It's a blaaag Friday.
I've nothing of interest to say to anybody. I ate a ton of "naughty" fatty foods today. (hence the blaaaah?)
Yet, I lost 2 lbs. Yep, I got on the scale and lost two whole pounds.
I did get my hair cut yesterday, and had to use alot less product to style it this morning.
ah, heavy sigh.
I thought that Spring was here, and indeed it is, but it's windy, chilly and rainy. Perfect for Spring thundershowers maybe tornados.

Did I mention that the Naughty food had icing? Did I mention that some of it was Dunkin Doughnuts, and although the greasy oil tasted slightly like that of Long John Silver, I didn't care. I also had some raisin coffee cake that had icing on it too.

I'm having pizza for dinner. I love pizza.
There you have heard it here first kids. I LOVE PIZZA! Pizza's your pal, pizza's your friend! What makes a "get together" a party? PIZZA!
What makes you homesick when you travel? Your hometown PIZZA place.
Be you a thin or thick crust, veggie or meat? Be thee a lover of oooey gooey cheese? I've had it with WHITE sauce and friggin chicken, and it's still PIZZA!
Love it with pineapple, and ham, I LOVE it Sam I am.
Pizza is PURRRRfection.
Pizza is a Slice of Heaven.
Pizza and almost anything else is pretty amazing too! Pizza and beer, pizza and wine, pizza and MILK, pizza and Ranch dressing, ooh la la.

It really takes so little to please me. I'd take a frozen Tombstone ($3.99) at Walmart and heat er up!
Yeah, Friday is looking up.

ODE to WD-40

Ode to WD-40

I’ve often found products I wish I could go on the road and sell. Glamorously of course…kind of like a book signing, or red carpet opening of some kind. Maybe I could do trade shows. Anyway,
I love WD-40.

It’s quite a perfect product and should be included in all Welcome New baby gift packs that the hospital gives to new moms. There alongside the sanitary pads, the single dose of aspirin, the single dose of mouthwash, and two newborn size Pampers, sample size of formula and a small can of WD-40. It’s a great IDEA!
Why one might ask?

Well, it has so many versatile uses! Sure, sure there are industrial uses, but hey, what would I know of those uses? I know that WD-40 can calm the fears of any mom whose 8 year old boy comes in with black top from a new street or driveway dug into the knees of their new jeans and on the heels of their white $50+ gym shoes. First, the knees, spray on the WD, let it set a minute, and take a dry cloth and work it around, lifting the tar. It will leave a grease mark, no doubt, but a little degreaser, like Lestoil or Pine Sol can get that out. (I prefer Lestoil, cuz it works faster, and it conjures familiar smells like a day at the zoo-I’m sure that they clean the lions cages with LesToil) Then put in your normal wash when the tar is all gone! Presto!
Kids used a permanent black JUMBO marker to make posters on your dining room table, linoleum floor or counter top? WD-40 to the rescue! Spray some on, wipe away the permanent marker with a paper towel!
Gum on new white shoes? Cinch! OLD yucky sticky gum on clean new expensive purse bottom? Easy!
Pen or ink on the couch? WD with the degreaser chaser to the rescue!
Got an old sticker stuck to the fridge? Simply wipe it away after spraying on WD! No scrubbing, no sticky mess. Stickers that have been through the washer or the dishwasher and left a gooey grimey mess? WD-40, yes that’s right. The W-D (UU dee-four-oh).
I tried it to remove lipstick that had been washed and dried on a white polyester smock. The lipstick stayed on after a wash and hot dryer. I used WD-40 and Lestoil and got it out!
Crayon you ask? Sure, no problem-o.
“How do you remove ground in grass stains?” Wd-40 and degreaser!
WD-40 does take the squeak out of the door hinges, loosen up screws that are too old or too rusty for weak little feminine hands to conquer too. But it’s a great cure all for things one thinks that are ruined.
I think if you spray it on a rag and wrap it around your head, it would cure a migraine! Spray it on your toes and it takes away toe fungus, athlete’s foot and it may remove I LOVE Billy Bob tattoo’s. Oh, now, I’m carried away.
I’d attach a coupon if I had one, but the good folks at WD-40, well, they haven’t answered my letters. Yet.

Bunnies are Creepy!

I’ve always liked animals. Even when I was small, they interested me, although I was sometimes frightened of them. Although my family always had dogs as pets, when I was very small, I was afraid of strange dogs. Not my own, whom I loved dearly, and not TV dogs like Lassie and Bullet (Roy Roger’s Shepherd). I was frightened by dogs down the street who looked at me with contempt. (well, I was 4 or 5 and that was my perception)
Anyway, as I grew, I loved animals and dreamed of owning a horse-of training a pet like a raccoon – of having a pet dolphin like Flipper! Although I knew it to be impossible.
So when I had a home of my own, with children who were frightened of animals too, it kinda puzzled me. I witnessed a terrorized 2 and 4 year old and hurriedly decided to get them a pet. We adopted a kitten who had several homes before us, but he was perfect for them. I had three children then. They grew to love not only that cat, but others as well. As the baby of the family grew, (we called her Bean then) she loved pets with a passion. She often freed a neighbors dog who was held captive (their backyard) and escorted them home with the crook of her little elbow around their neck. “Can we keep him?” I witnessed her sneaking out food and water bowls. She grew to love dogs, cats, you name it. She was like a female Dr. Doolittle. The other children loved animals too. My son came to the rescue of a neighbor’s dog we had grown fond of, and fed treats to, when he witnessed the owner mistreating it. My son was a gangly 14 year old, but he stood his ground with the adult neighbor, challenging him to change his behavior or my son would call the police. I was so proud of him, with his compassion being his passion at that time.

After our family cats had been dispersed to the grown children as they made their own homes, and the family dog had grown old, ill and had to be put to sleep, I found myself to be petless.
I kind of grew to like that too. I could appreciate others pets, love them even, but I didn’t have to clean up dog or cat hair, or their poops!
But that didn’t last. We soon found (or he found us is more like it) a stray black dog, that has become our seventh “child”. He is well loved, well trained and we enjoy him immensely. But that's another blog or two.
I guess I never realized that there are folks who really don’t like pets. I just never really imagined it. I knew that they didn’t like specific species over another, say, one might be a cat person, but not a dog lover etc. I know wonderful, loving compassionate people – who do not like pets!
My granddaughter, who loves our dog, loves her own dog – summed it up quite nicely one beautiful spring morning.
She was four at the time. I woke up to birds chirping, sun shining brightly on the dewy spring morning. I looked out to our yard, where I saw a fuzzy brown bunny rabbit, (the mom) and a teeny tiny brown fuzz ball of baby bunny. They made a sweet picture in our yard, as they quickly munched the new green sprouts of grass. Wanting a Rockwell moment – I called my granddaughter over to watch. She hugged up against me, and proclaimed softly, “Grandma, bunnies are creepy”.
I never imagined it. Creepy? Now, I can see it.
Perception is reality!

Barney, Load your Bullet!

So I left for work this morning at around 6:50 a.m. I travel a series of back roads in my little semi rural community, and not far from my house, I pass a school.
Back up.
Before I get to the school, there are no cars around. The speed limit is 45 mph just before the school zone, but drops dramatically to 20 mph. I am driving all of 45 to 50 mph, waiting for the "drop zone". The road takes some dips, not quite hills, more like dips, and it's a no passing zone.
Out of no where comes a black car, PASSING ME. The nerve! Passing me, in what is almost a school zone.
Suddenly, black car breaks. (Black car is ahead of me by about 500 yards now!) and slows down to about 20 mph.
Oh glorious bliss, ahead of black car is a county police car! I have never been happier to see, justice in a can, up ahead on the road!
But alas, no sirens. No car chases, nothing to resolve my need to kick the butt of some serious black car A#*.
We all just limped along at 20 mph, until the po-leece turned around in the school parking lot.
So, I guess he was there for traffic control? (both cars on the road, that being mine, the law abiding citizen that I am and that of black car, who well, because of the color of the car, signifies evil)
I need anger management. It's not even 7 a.m. a beautiful Monday morning...and I am ready to start banging into the bumper of that black car, taking my paid for '98 Oldsmobile Intrigue on the ride of it's life (maybe not THE ride, if you include the time we hydro-planned down the street and yard of a neighbor of my mom's -shhhhh - I'll never live that one down if Mom finds out)
but, anyway...just what was my point? I was angry. That's it, just me being angry.
ummmm, been blog hopping a bit, there isn't much out there but musings and drawings. Some quite good, and some not.
I'll try for better posts after I nap and eat dinner.
Going shopping tonight, that'll make me happier. My husbands car is not black, but I bet he passes folks in school zones. More on Mr. Man later.

My Mother Was a Solid Gold Dancer

When I am alone, and I mean ALL alone, I turn up the tunes and DANCE.

Shakira has nothing on me (if you get a "visual" going, you have my permission to leave) My hips don't lie either ! Lock up every now and again, but lie, no way!

Over the ages, which to me are just a blink, but as I look back I remember just a few years ago, getting "jiggy wit it" and raising the roof, the horrified looks on my teenagers faces.

When they were smaller, I could tour je tete, through the room, listening to whatever I may, and the toddlers would just smile with the mood - giggle and join in or watch with pleasure. Somewhere along the line, I lost my groove. I wasn't cool anymore.

When I felt the music in me - it can't involve a jerk or a twist. What am I thinking?

So, the other day, I as I vacuumed and swayed, I busted a good move. I was indeed alone, but I think my big black dog rolled his eyes.

Guys lighten up!

Runs With Scissors

I'm not very careful.

There, I admit it. So, if you wonder why I named this blog what I did, well...read on.

There was the time that I used a heat gun to soothe my sinus pain and melted my mascara of my top and bottom lashes together making the opening of my eyes scary difficult. Or the time that I was hiking with my "boyfriend", now my husband and I stooped to view a caterpiller floating on a leaf in a murky green bottomless pit of a puddle in a rock quarry, sliding on the algea right into the "puddle" that was about 8 feet wide and indeed bottomless (my camera, strapped to my belt, never worked quite right again) I sank up to my eyes before I thought to dog paddle and yelp "help". Or the time I burned a blister on my cornea with a curling iron, (ohhh that was an exspensive one - eye doctor and all) or the time I superglued my thumb and wrist to a plastic wallbin at work, The self-hazardness proved genetic that day, as the staff worked to remove the cemented wallbin from my skin (ouch!) when my daughter then 15 or 16 was outside watching a thunderstorm roll in and lightening zapped the ground traveling to the metal storm door as she entered the house and jolted her arm. Convinced she was electrocuted, she called work to see what she should do, but I could hardly take the call, glued to the wallbin. oh, the others they laughed. At home, her brother and sister were snickering. I felt her pain.

Electrocution: hint, don't stick an electrical cord into the wall socket and the other end into your mouth. That is bad. No matter how tempting the cheese ball mixture is on your electrical cord - kids, don't try this at home. Yep, I did. I was making a cheeseball - in a hurry, to take to a dinner party after work. I had an old handmixer whose cord was detachable and it being old, kept detaching while I was mixing. I wrapped it around my wrist and held it in place while I mixed. When finished, I had this wonderful cheese mixture splattered on my hand and thumb. I started tasting it. (I didn't lick the beaters!) I licked my wrist, my thumb and then the cord full of cheese, I stuck in my mouth. As I saw a bright white light, so very bright...my teeth started to chatter and I thought to myself, this can't be good. It wasn't. I pulled it out. Convinced that my teeth and lips would be black, I ran to the bathroom mirror to see. Nothing. My lips still tingled. I better tell someone - in case something happens like a heart attack! I was alone, but I heard my husband shoveling snow in the distance, so he must have just arrived home. Embarressed, but a little scared, I yelled, "Babe, I electrocuted myself". Cold, I shut the door and waited. Nothing. "BAAABE, I electrocuted myself". Still nothing.

It took him a good 5 minutes to come check on me. He was shaking his head. Obviously, I was fine, not burnt up...perhaps my brain was now fried. It's a thought. I know he thought it.

The list goes on I am embarressed to say. So now you know what most of my freinds and family know about me. I don't think and multi-task very well. And I can't be stopped. In my family, we are a little dramatic so this exaggerates any and all problems.

Stay tuned. I'm sure if you wait it out...another story will be on the way!

New mixer - the cord firmly attached - encouraged by my children.

Four pounds

If you are between the ages of 25 and 60 raise your left hand. If you are a wife, a mom, a daughter or sister, raise your right hand. If you are over 40 stand up. If you are 60+ sit down, and if you are between 20 and 30 sit down. (This is an inter-active blog...are you feeling the burn???) If you are a man...leave the room.

I carefully watched every item I put into my mouth for 6 weeks. I counted out each calorie, determined to lose 10 pounds by May 24, my step daughter's wedding. I need to lose some simple inches to comfortably fit into the dress for the event. I lost 4 pounds in those 6 weeks...but
I gained it back this weekend. I blame Easter candy. (not 4 pounds worth surely!)
This is much harder to do than I imagined. I'm a diet failure - and may even be a slug.
I used to love to exercise. Maybe it was the fact that I had no problem with weight, being my metabolism was much faster way back then. Heck I used to eat all the Easter candy before Easter and have to buy more to fill the baskets.
When I was a stay at home mom, (BD-before the divorce) although I had three small children, my time was well, MY time to arrange to "be active". I'll say "be active", because it wasn't always structured exercise, but it wasn't laying on the couch either.
I hate to say it, but I had so much more time then. Now, with a full time job outside the home, and extra curricular activities, along with house keeping, family, and sleep- I have limited time to exercise. If I eat less than 1200 calories, I will surely collapse, but without exercise - I'm doomed.

54 days, I have just 54 days to get into that dress. I can do it! It's stated here in this blog. For all to see! (ok, just for Sarah to see right now...but soon I may have other readers - and by then I'll be slimmer!)

Ladies, it's harder when you are older to shed even 4 lousey pounds! When menopause, health issues and AGE set it, your whole lifestyle changes into a sedentary way. It's gradual yet quick. Less than 10 years ago, I could still do the splits and a cartwheel! Today I can hardly sit Indian style on the floor without assistance let alone finish a Tae Bo tape! I get winded putting my bra on in the morning.

I could always buy another dress! Yeah, that's the plan! One with elastic waistline! or DRAPEY fabric, maybe an empire waist!
Ah, but it won't solve the swimsuit issue. Back to rice cakes and yogurt!