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Monday, October 11, 2010

Act Your Age!

So I turned 35 today and it's all good. BUT, everyone thinks, as a woman, you should be upset and don't want to admit your age. So I will go along with that in the future, but where most women say they are 29 at every birthday, I will start adding 18 years to my real age. Instead of being an aged 29 year old, I would rather be the most gorgeous 53 year old to walk the planet.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Which Way is Up?

Where to start, it's been so long since I have written. Well, last week I was called a slave master and a white devil on Facebook. I also heard some rather gory sexual details from a stranger about her marriage. I am wrapped up with the high drama of 9U baseball, engulfed in anxiety about trying to make my first sale before sending my family to the poor house and worst of all Kyle's Grandma Junker passed away leaving behind an amazing, loving family and her husband of 58 years. We will miss you Mam.
I was so overly jumbled up with weird emotion that I couldn't help but cry during church. Austin and Brayden kept asking me what was wrong and they would wipe my tears trying to make me smile which of course only made me cry more.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

An Overdue Trip Well Worth the Wait


San Francisco was san-frantastic. I loved it more than I could imagine, considering the whole of my experience with the left coast is news of their left politics and the high percentage of left-handers. Great wine, cool weather, plenty of visual oomph, aaaand it didn't quake, shake and float off into the ocean while we were there. What's not to love?
So this blog is just about the first two days of our trip to make it a more manageable typing and reading experience.
First, though, it wasn't what we expected, and that was good and bad, starting with wine country. I thought it would be much more high brow. You would pass by a winery and then a trailer, a beautiful little town and then a gravel pit and truck yard. Guessing what eye sore came next became our little running joke. (Oh and another little game I liked to play was 'spot the solar panels'--much like when my sister and I were kids and would yell out "AIRBRUSH" when we drove into Panama City for vacation with my parents.)
When we first arrived, we drove through downtown and across the Golden Gate Bridge and ended up detouring to eat and browse Sausalito. It was wonderful with divine views of the city, a great personality and adorable cafes. Sausalito was also our first intro to the fact that even the tiniest place would have hard-to-pronounce sandwiches and mysterious ingredients. Delicious, but not the straight forward food you find in Texas.
After a wonderful morning strolling that town, he headed north for the official beginning of our first leg of the trip in Sonoma County. We stayed at the Hyatt in Santa Rosa, which I wouldn't recommend. While it had a pretty facade, they nickel-and-dimed us for everything(--hello, even McDonald's gives FREE wifi!) and it was devoid of personality. Trust me that if Kyle and I can't scrape personality from those around us after we have been drinking wine, than there is none to be found. Santa Rosa is a cute little town(if you call 161,ooo people little), again with the odd dichotomy of froo-froo hotels right on top of the homeless shelter. We did go out one night in Santa Rosa and it was interesting in it's own right. The first bar we went to had a suspect- looking black bus out front, which turned out to be the tour bus for the guitarist from the Scorpions. We also stopped into the Toad in the Wall next door which was so bad we didn't even finish our beers. The singer was bad mouthing the south and I got an ugly reminder from a lonely lesbian that, yes, some people really are fine with being rude and disconnected from the rest of the human race.
The last bar was great with live music and $16 glasses of wine. We mourned the fact we didn't go there first and finally headed back to the hotel.
On that note, when you go to Northern Callie, just get ready to bend over, grab your ankles and hand over your wallet.
Anyways, it was hard to get our bearings on where to go and what to do at first, but Kyle proved to have killer travel instincts, the first sign of this being when we stumbled across the Kendall-Jackson winery. KJ proved to be auspicious not only for the wonderful taste explosion I was to have, but for the very good advice our tasting expert gave us that helped us navigate the next few days. They had a wine and food pairing so unbelievable that had you only heard the audio of that delectable experience, you would have thought I was having an hour long orgasm. Each course was designed to bring out the true fullness of each wine. OH MY GOD. Sitting outside on the patio in the gardens with a handsome man, succulent food and elegant beverages, what more could a girl ask for? We had made a pact that we would not buy bottles of wine from every place we visited, but broke it on that very first afternoon. (Notice the telltale bag below.)
The next morning we drove to Armstrong Redwood State Natural Reserve and went on a six mile hike. The majestic redwoods tower over you with perspective-inspiring majesty and the peaceful mood seeps into your entire being. The hike was on the challenging side and I was glad Kyle brought our camel-packs.
Because we were already an hour north, we wound our way over to the famous Hwy 1 and drove the gorgeous and at-times nauseating turns up the coast. (Yes, those are sea lions. So cool!)
Let me tell you, California drivers are not scared to drive with one foot on the accelerator and and one foot at the doorway to heaven, and Kyle fell right in line. Can you see my face turning as green as the vegetation just at the memory? The scenery made up for it, but I only let go of the 'oh-shit' handle above the passenger door to take pictures.
We cut back south on the main highways and stopped in Healdsburg on a recommendation. Do not miss this little gem. Actually if you go to Sonoma, try to find a smaller hotel or b and b on a winery around Healdsburg. It's that good. We grabbed a divine Pinot, that turned out to be this particular wine maker's first official production of just 300 bottles (Chavez) and sat on the square in the waning sunlight snacking on salami, local cheese and olives. Perfection.
Well, right now, fifty lbs of perfection just climbed his sleepy self into my lap and so I say adieu and will reminisce more with you next time.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Drama at the lemonade stand

So I finally cave to the idea of a lemonade stand, despite the fact that it is 104 degrees. (At these temps, we don't even bother with heat index, because it is just f%#$n hot.) We set up on the corner of a local park with a 4-way stop and shade. Just smile and wave boys. just smile and wave.
We have a nice customer walk up to us with his wife and a few moments later we are joined as well be some friends. Chatting, smiling, sweating--it's all good until CRASH.
In slo-mo we all turn around and realize there is a marroon SUV 'parked' at a very disturbing angle next to our truck. Kyle and the other adults start to run over to the parking lot while I stay at the corner with the boys. The trouble is going to be handled and I am not ready to deal with the fact that this just became one seriously expensive lemonade stand so I turn back to our entrepreneurial undertaking.
But when I glance back, the woman and her two dogs and her red SUV are gone. Wow, that was a quick exchange of information, I think.
Or not. Hit and run, people. What the %$#^%? Seriously? Apparently after I turned around, she pulled out and swerved hitting the curb and veering off into the grass before disappearing around the corner without giving us the courtesy of clearly viewing her liscence plate.
So a cute cop shows up to take our info, but of course they haven't been able to find her. We are still vigilant though eyeing every marroon SUV for damage to her rear passenger side.
So the boys made roughly $40 and are now on the verge of buying themselves a bike ramp, which I am very nervous about. Why do little boys (hell big boys too for that matter) have to be interested in all things that can break your bones?
We will be out $300 for our deductible, not to mention the fact that not only am I driving a pick-up in a suit and heals everyday to and from work that is stick shift, (yes, that does mean stop-and-go traffic for up to 100 miles a day, thank you for noticing) it means that now I get to drive a wrecked, stick shift, pick up which will now be undervalued and difficult to sell.
Did I mention it is pretty much impossible to get in and out of said vehicle in a lady like fashion and that I wear a skirt or dress almost every day. Yup. Sexay.
But I cannot be bothered with that now, because we are leaving for Sonoma Valley in an hour and reality will be here when I get back.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Uugghhh

A flash back from 5 months ago in the early days of my worst work experience ever:
Attitude-smattitude. It seems to be a topic of constant debate in my head these days because I am embroiled in cold calling and training--both of which can be serious energy drains. Back and forth I go (not unlike the constant u-turns I make learning a new territory--in a stick shift, don't even get me started). Gung-ho one call, and down in the dumps the next depending on the degree of reception I received. Was she warm and friendly until realizing I was a salesperson? Or was he indifferent and on edge until I happened to small talk about something that interested him?
So I say to myself, "Self, You cannot be swayed but such flimsy impulses as those coming from a bored receptionist. Chin up, shoulders back. Learn to serve others through your job." A very philosophical--yeah even religious--to be of service to everyone, no matter the endeavor--even cold calling. Until I end up wanting to service the back side of someone's head.
Then I will think, Why not take the opportunity to become really, really good at this. Nobody hates doing things they are good at. That idea holds up for a while, until I think about hookers. I bet they hate doing things they are good at.
But I will not stop. I run through more pick-me ups. What else would you be doing on a Tuesday morning? (No shock why that one didn't work.) Whistle while you work. The more you complete today, the less you have to do in the future. (This idea actually does hold water pretty well actually.)
I change activities and make phone calls for a while to give my clutch foot a break. I bargain with myself that if I call on just two more, I will not feel guilt over the M&Ms I am going to reward myself with. (I guess it would be redundant to write about why I have gained five pounds since starting work.)

Monday, August 2, 2010

Never Passe

Chaka Khan is on Phineas and Ferb (my boys' favorite cartoon). That is so hilarious I can't even stand it. First because who doesn't love a good blast from the past and second because Kyle, to this day, will say, "Chaka Khan" any time something sassay (yes, that's sassy with a sassay accent).
I was a little too sassay this weekend myself and sent myself home two nights in a row by 10:30. Too much overindulgence--yikes! (I thought they were exaggerating about the perfect margarita at Baja, but there weren't.) I could blame it on the fact that I am starting to let a little bit of "freak out" creep in regarding the soon-to-be desperate need to make commission checks. Or I could just own up to the fact that I occasionally like to act like I'm twenty again.
Either way, too much is too much.
So I am going to try to fit yoga back into the schedule this week to make amends to my physical health. (Sorry little liver. Just kidding kidneys.) I will also try to start packing a healthy lunch. Did I mention we also put ourselves on a cash diet?--thriftay. And I had better start selling and getting commission before the savings runs out. But one thing at a time.
Here I am talking about how too much is too much and then I decide to cut back on enjoying beverages, adding exercise, working harder, spending less. Where is my Libra balance when I need it?

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Role Reversal

So it turns out that Kyle is a better house keeper than I--and it is glorious! It is absolutely amazing to walk in to a clean home and I didn't do it. Lovin' it, lovin' it, lovin' it. And the truth was that I wasn't any kind of house keeper. I was a writer. And a mother. And a wife. And I take to those things with a focus that is sometimes good and sometimes bad. When I am being one, I am usually not being the others (with the exception that mother sneaks in and demands its due attention whenever it wants.) People could come over unannounced and I wouldn't be embarrassed (much), but let's just say my source of pride did not come from clean baseboards.
But the blessings of going back to work have surpassed that of an effortlessly, clean home. Everyone should be so lucky to have the opportunity to walk in each other's shoes. We keep having these moments when we just look at each other, realizing I am repeating his lines and he is reciting mine and we go, "Ohhhhhhh, that's what you always meant." And we just laugh. He now understands why I would follow him around like a puppy dog when he got home (because I hadn't talked to an adult all day). I now know that when he said he didn't care if we went out to dinner or not on a Friday night, he really didn't care--he was just happy to be off work. He got irritated the other day when I didn't put the cinnamon back in the cabinet. (He rightly chose to keep that to himself at the time.)
One of my favorite moments came when he was mentioning how he wasn't able to complete one of the tasks he had on his to-do list, and, with a straight face, I just tilted my head and furrowed my brow saying, "Well, you have all day tomorrow to do it." Then I smiled, cuz I couldn't help it. He just shook his head, knowing how many times he had said that to me, unaware of what a day at home is really like. "Yeah. OK," he said and laughed despite himself and just went back to watching the Rangers.
I am sure this honeymoon phase won't last forever, but I am trying to enjoy while it does. It seems also that we are both better equipped to be sensitive to the other's daily plight since we have been there, done that. Not a bad way to function.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Who Flipped my World Upside Down?


So many up and down feeling about going back to work. I am honestly staying on top of them by focusing on this as an adventure and giving us a pat on the back for undertaking said adventure. I mean really, I didn't think I really understood the hugeness of completely switching roles with the man, not having my time, my writing, my kids all to myself all the time, not knowing what our financial future holds--all of it.
And Kyle is facing his own interesting emotions. He loves staying at home (who wouldn't?), but just doesn't want anyone to know about it. He hasn't yet come to terms with the phrase "stay at home dad". Giving up the burden of being the sole provider is taking some getting used to. I can only imagine how nerve-wreckingly slippery that must be for him. And going back to school is daunting. He gripes that I can't understand what it feels like to go back since I am a bookworm, nerd and writer. Fair enough, but I did already take my plunge into the unknown and intimidating, and I am dutifully swimming in it Monday through Friday. So I think i get the emotion behind it. He wants to know why I "have to tell everybody about our business". But it's not like I have taken out a billboard on 35E saying "Kyle is going back to school!" (Although, writing about it on a public blog might be close...) It's just that when people find out that I went back to work, their immediate next questions are who's taking care of the boys(especially since it is summertime) and what's Kyle doing? Who wouldn't ask that? And I think saying things, especially scary things, outloud keeps you accountable to following through on them.
But here's the real deal on this whole role-reversal: it's like a once in a lifetime chance to start over without having to give up what matters the most. It's asking yourself, What do I want to be when I grow up? and really getting to do it...At age 35!
So cool and of course it's uncomfortable. There can be no growth inside your comfort zone.
On my side, it has been interesting how easy it was to slip the business suit back on. Now, of course, I still feel like I have no clue what I am doing and that any minute they will discover that I am actually a fraud with a great way with words during an interview. Yikes! But, the physical walking out the door, doing what it takes, staying engaged in the present activity so I don't get overwhelmed, it just happened. And how quickly that nagging need to be good at my job (and make a lot of money) came back on me. I KNEW in college that I was meant to be a vice president or CEO of something. Five years later, I KNEW that I wasn't willing to sacrifice quality of life with family and friends for the climbing that would take. (And of course the twins helped to secure that notion since I was outnumbered the second they were born.) So maybe there has been a tiny bit of leftover corporativa inside all this time.
Well, who knew? I wish I would have enjoyed staying at home more instead of always chasing deadlines and stressing about money this past year. But, I guess I really know deep down, I'm not really a soap opera and bonbon kind of gal. (Although I should have at least tried it!)
It's also so hard right now being at peace with the idea that Kyle is here for the boys and not me. I know that's good and I know it's what God intends for us right now, but it's hard. When Kyle showed me pics of the boys on their camping trip with their big smiles in front of a backdrop that I had never seen, it hit me hard. I missed it. I missed those moment with them. And they are doing ok without me since daddy is there.
It's exhausting waking up at 5:30 every morning and worrying about getting to bed at a decent hour every night, but I'm sure that will pass. Kyle has made it as smooth and sweet as possible for me and I am amazed at what we are learning through this. (That is a whole other blog on it's own! Everyone should be so damn blessed to LITERALLY walk in each other's shoes. The world as we knew it has shifted so much it's giving us vertigo.) Who knew he could cook?
Anyhoo, the clock is glaring at me so I gotta run. I am late for traffic.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

When did I get so short?!

Seriously. I just took a look at the photo of me below on my first day back to work. Can someone please tell when that happened. I look sawed off. You know, like cankles (where your calves go straight into ankles with no tapering) except my ribs go straight into my hips. What would that be? Rips? No, the irony is too much. How 'bout boobs straight into hips--bips?

A Bear, Silver Heels and an Uncovered Affinity for Being a Homebody

So due to a lack of time right now, I will give the briefest update and try to fill in the blanks later.
Within two days in New Mexico, the boys' had a run in with a bear and Kyle had to turn back from a much anticipate hike in order to avoid offering a mountain lion a Coffey-boy buffet.
I have enjoyed two weeks worth of meals that I have not cooked.
I know more about copiers (oh excuse me, mmm-hhmmm, multi-function printers) than I ever thought I would.
Having a 'wife' is as wonderful as I suspected.
I now owe Nordie's one of my arms, but only half a leg since I am returning some heels this week.
And I have a new appreciation for my house, my couch and cold beer(who knew I could love those three things even more!)

Monday, July 12, 2010

Call me Damnit!


I am in Houston for training and hopefully I will get out and pass on a little info about this Texas metropolis. (This is the first time I have been here except to curse at their traffic while passing through.)
The boys are in New Mexico on a camping/hiking adventure.
They left at 3:30 am on Sunday morn--yes, Kyle is nuts. So that means they have been gone for almost 42 hours and except for a few nonsense texts from Kyle on their way down there, I haven't heard from them aaannnnddd his phone is off. Let me tell you, there is gonna be hell to pay if he doesn't get his ass to a phone so I can hear my babies' voices---soon. I do not care if they are "roughing it". You can get off the mountain to let me know you are alive!
Men...

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

First Day Jitters



So I decided this morning to go ahead and do the dishes. But when I opened the door, I had to stop because the dishes weren't familiar. When I leaned in closer sure enough I realized the dishes were dirty.
Huh?
Because Kyle had already gotten up, started coffee and emptied the clean dishes and reloaded the leftover dirties.
uh-oh.
So when I came home, the house is clean, the laundry is clean (almost ALL OF IT), the aroma of chicken and sweet potatoes is wafting through the house from the crock pot and I hear a whole lot of quiet.
Say wha..?
So I walk into the playroom and all four of my boys are sitting on the couch reading.
I smile.
I raise my eyebrows..
And Austin starts to giggle...
I give my compliments and finally my little sunshine says, "Mom, we're pretending! We weren't really reading and being quiet!"
Man, I love that kid.
Well, if Kyle's going to be better than me at this staying home thing, then I might as well just bask in the shine of a squeaky clean sink.
Very cool that he is taking this seriously :0) Better eating humble pie than cooking a meal after a long work day.
So my first day of work was good. I have my own cubicle. (My first ever! I've never had to report into an office. It's always been completely in the field with a laptop and cell phone.) I think it will be a good combination to have an office to report to occasionally while still being in the field. Everyone was nice and the training is going to be like "drinking from a fire hose" I'm told. Well, I was hungry for change, so that will just give me something cold to wash it all down with. I have a good feeling about this manager and there were quite a few people that had remarkable tenure--seems like a good sign. I am looking forward to getting into the field and riding a little of my ignorance and excitement (and maybe take a baby step closer to some cha-ching.)
So at risk of major TMI, I am going to go ahead and tell you about one worry. I have worked from home for a long time. That means I eat when I want, exercise when I want and, well, go to the bathroom when I want. I am never stuck in traffic, or in a meeting, or calling on a client when...when...when nature calls. I really have a distinct amount of apprehension and concern about this! In a funny twist, I made my way to the ladies room (because of the two diet cokes I had, that's all people!) and the toilets have the auto flush feature. Well this stall was the poltergeist version of auto flush, because it went off about TEN TIMES. I just wanted to yell, "These are not courtesy flushes! Please believe me. The first day nerves have me backed up, I swear!"
See, it's never too late to add more embarrassing moments to the list.

Monday, July 5, 2010

Stumble out of bed and stumble to the kitchen..

So tomorrow is the big day. I return to corporate America. I am calm about it and that fits since I have had a lot of peace about this decision and tomorrow is finally the first official step on the next twist in my life path. (Hello run-on sentence and waxing poetic!)
Anyways, today was funny in how uninteresting it was. We stayed up late yesterday for the 4th, but come around 5 am I was losing sleep over one seriously aggravating deadline that I didn't want to take in the first place. So I got up, finished writing and editing and then went back to sleep. This was the first time I have slept till noon in yyeeeeaaaarrrrrss--bonus points for me for taking advantage of that little perk FINALLY.
I paid bills and then randomly decided to start organizing the kids' game cabinet. But of course what seemed random at the time is now, in retrospect, not at all. Because for the past two weeks I have been cleaning and organizing and fluffing, nesting, tweaking a million little things around the house in a semi-conscious attempt to dot my i's and cross my t's before Kyle takes over my domain. I even cleaned out my car for him, which I never do even for me.
Kyle watched a movie when he got up, but after a while I realized I had lost track of him. What do you know, he was cleaning his car out for me. (We have to trade cars, because of course my Yukon was never really mine, it was the kids'. Whoever has the kids has the mac car.)
I had one small, hitched breath earlier when I did dare to say to myself that this was my last day as a stay at home mom--almost exactly seven years later. (They say the number eight represents change...things that make you go hmmmmm.) But the moment passed as quickly as it came because I am curious and excited (believe it or not) to see how this will play out.
This is the first time I can remember taking my hands off the wheel and driving on faith. I know that I want to be a writer, but am willingly walking away from that dream for the moment. I know that I put my family first, but am stepping back from my primary caregiver role in order to do that. I relish tapping my creative side for solace, but am donning a suit and briefcase to find peace. Any more contradictions and someone may have to remind me what my name is.
(Apparently this is called phase one according to a very interesting artist, gallery owner, life-coach-in-training I met the other day while shopping. But that's a-whole-nother story.)
And of course I have my question marks about the smallest aspects of daily life. Tomorrow when I wake up, do I unload the dishwasher as I always have as part of my morning routine, or do I stick it to the man? (HAhahaha!) Is the man actually going to remember to make dinner? (Does he know how?) Should I be sweet and make a list--ie don't forget to make the boys eat something that is not covered in cheese dust, don't let them play with firearms, feed the dog, please make the boys wash their hands at least once while I am gone and leave the washer door open so the mold smell doesn't return...
Don't even get me started on whether or not he knows who our pediatrician is, what the toilet bowl cleaner is for, when to take out the recycling, where the bandaids are, why Aussie should not be allowed to listen to "Crazy Train" after drinking Dr. Pepper or how to pay bills online.
But we shall cross each of those bridges as they come up and for entertainment I think I will track the number of calls and texts I get from him every day. Unless of course, he brilliantly transitions into my former job and forces me to go postal.
[Sigh. Nervous swallow.]

Saturday, July 3, 2010

My Tree Hugger


Awww, a true fondness for the natural world...




Well, upon closer inspection...


Happy Birthday, America!





Friday, June 25, 2010

UP the Downside


oN tHe HiGh SiDe first, so I can soon swoop down in this week's emotional pendulum, Kyle put this Freightliner truck up for auction this morning and is planning a celebratory camping trip with the boys. Next week will be his last week of work and I bought a "Life is Good" shirt to give him on Friday.
Here is a pic of one my sunshine rays entitled (for the last time), "An Oil Man's Son". (Yes, my La-La's that is Daddy's oilfield hardhat.)
So I am finishing up my deadlines as the "countdown till corporate" crosses t - 10. I just capped off an artisan's column about a local jewelry maker, thinking that it was my last except for the guilt-laden plea of my favorite editor to take 'just one more'. (Guilt laden because I love her too much to leave in the lurch and because I majorly screwed up an article by turning in the rough draft and not the final and it got published--I felt so bad I cried. If you haven't noticed I expect perfection out of no one but me.) Ugh--not how I wanted to spend my last week. To think I was going to get away scott-free, yeah right.
And of course, I have work to do on the design book, but that doesn't count, right?
It was funny, because one of my friends--a little dyanamo--called with 2 amazing story ideas. They are definitely news-worthy, but I am having a hard time passing them up, because--well, it kills me that someone else is going to write them.
So while I can beat myself up that I didn't turn writing into a financially successful venture, it still hurts that I won't be doing it for a while.
Yes, yes, this may open up an opportunity for "writing for fun" and "finishing the novel", but today I am PMSing people and I just don't feel like Peppy Bo Peep. Got It?!
And so in appropriately melodramatic, Aunt Flow style, I say to my writing career, "When will I see you again?" ("Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo...ahhaah, aaahhaaa" from my background singers for any of you familiar with the 70's group The Three Degrees...And fade out.)

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Did He Really Just Wash My Underwear?!

Ahh, the joys of a restless night waking up thinking about our impending reduction of income. It is scary. So what do you think we did last night to prepare for it? Went out to dinner of course. Why is it so hard to make changes before you actually have to?! I guess we'll start today--ha!
But on the good and very interesting side of things, the shift in our roles began yesterday. Let me say that Kyle' s role with the boys has always been a very hands-on, front and center one when he is not working and that I have seen that side taken to the next level ever since I started job hunting. Afterall, as any mom can attest, it is no small thing to know that your children's behavoir is a reflection of you and your parenting style--especially if you stay at home with them. And I think that has really sunk in with dear old dad.
BUT onto the shocking part of the shift, yesterday the house was cleaned AND it wasn't by me AND I didn't have to pay for it. I was finishing up two of final deadlines in my freelance life and having a butt-in-the-chair day when I heard familiar but startling sounds, such as the floor being swept, the laundry being started and the general complaining of three 50-pounders having to put their clothes and toys and flotsam away. I just sat in my office as silently as I possibly could, not wanting to spook my husband for fear that whatever had come over him would suddenly slip away. It was not unlike trying to stay perfectly still when you spot wildlife up close.
For richer for poorer, for cleaner or messier, for nervous about the future but happier.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Booking It!


About a month or two ago I had the opportunity to get to know one of the other baseball moms, Tiffany. Turns out she is an accomplished designer and build consultant. As we got talking, she mentioned her goal of writing a design book and needing a ghostwriter and weelllllllll it seemed a match made in synchronicity heaven.
Of course, now I have a job coming soon, not to mention I am notorious for biting off more than I can chew. But it's a BOOK! Hello!
So we have dived into this project and I am beginning the first chapter this week for her. (And have I ever mentioned how much I love decorating? So fun!)
I am looking forward to seeing where this will lead. Uh-oh, I feel a decorating bug coming on...

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

The Wind Beneath My Wings


So I had a bit of a roller coaster day yesterday. I met with my new manager about the salary/commission offer and the base salary was lower than I was hoping. Now, the commission structure is impressive and once I get rolling, it should be good. But the transition is gonna be awkward. I guess it's just human to want things to be easy, so the news took the wind out of my sails for a few hours. I broke the offer to Kyle and just tried to get off the phone until my sis could call, because I needed a pep talk instead of giving a pep talk. I know he is ready to quit, but yesterday was about me. (K is wonderful but he has yet to learn the finer points concerning my need for feminine optimism.)
Wonderful woman that Nikki is, by the time I finished talking to her, I had several takeaways:
1. It's just reality and nothing that a thoughtful plan and a little patience won't handle.
2. This might work out perfectly, forcing us into the simple and streamlined lifestyle we keep talking about (while dodging).
3. It's better to have a small start with big potential rather than a static income that is 'as good as it gets' on day one as on day infinity.
There were probably more, but they all ran along the same lines of "Everything will be alright."
Later I was able to hash those take aways with my dear friend Dawn and now I totally believe everything we came up with. Funny, life is always what you make of it.
Cue music: Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends.
Thank God for friends, because whether the wind beneath my wings they were providing was a breath of fresh air or a blast of hot air, I needed it and it worked.

Monday, June 14, 2010

I Got A J.O.B. (Just Offer the Bucks!)

Well, my little, scattered saga is set to take another life turn. Get ready for stories from a working mom, because I have been offered a job with Ikon Office Solutions selling to major accounts. (Best interviews of my life, those were. Good thing there is no hidden camera in my car to publicize my interview practice on the way there during a traffic jam.) I am excited, scared, ready, hesitant and jumbled. It's going to be great because we need this.
From the start, this decision has felt very much like a God current, moving us in an unknown, yet not unwelcome, direction; and it seems that the Big Man Above gave us another nod to that fact this past week. Kyle, love of my life, was finally offered the full-time position he has been waiting for over the past 18 months, less than a week after my job offer. He told them to shove it. YES! It's funny how once you get a taste of a life centered around family and friends how little everything else means.
So my man will be taking care of my boys and I know that those apron strings will not be easy for me to loosen. (This will probably translate to high entertainment for you. Just like when I had sent my fourth reminder text to him last weekend as I left for a wedding in Georgia only to receive the reply, "Yeah babe, I've got it.")
In the coming months we will be budget-changing and role-swapping while Kyle re-enters the realm of higher education and I once again get scrappy in highly competitive sales. (And honeys, let me tell you, I am nothing if not competitive.)
Please stay tuned and if you feel the urge, I would love to hear your comments and share in your thoughts as well.
Final note, shout out to my rock star, young ball boys for outstanding play on the tournament diamond this past weekend. Cole's team won the whole shabang, while Aussie and BB made it to the semi's. I am so proud and I need no other reminder why re-entering the work-a-day world should prove to be the change we desperately need.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

What Can You Expect at Warrior Dash?



To get very very dirty.
We parked at a local's house, who provide a trailer ride to the event. Music playing, beer tents and turkey leg stations under a beautiful blue sky awaited us. It was easy to check in and we promptly received our goody bag--number and viking headpiece included. But we refused to don the horns since we had not yet earned the warrior title and went off to watch the festivities. The only spectator stand was at the last leg of the race where warriors were leaping over fire and crawling through mud under barbed wire. Someone's wig had gotten caught in the wire and was hanging there limp and defeated.
As competitors neared the muddy finale, the crowd would chant, "Dive, Dive, Dive..."
Mind you that the hog-heaven mud pit only had about six inches of water covering about 10 inches of mud. Most of the girls we watched would slide down on their tushes into the mud before crawling forward. Do wha??? My girl, Michela, and I just look at each with confused expressions. We did not come here to act like prisses. But the hillarious part came when these same girls are crawling through the mud, under the wire, in shorts. Let's just say it was a view most of us would not want to broadcast, although mud really is an excellent cellulite concealer.
Tip #1 Don't wear high shorts unless you can bounce a quarter off your perfectly toned, a$#.
We lined up amid 500 other nuts amid loud dance music and heckling from the dj. With a large fire blast we were off. Michela's ankel started hurting within the first 1/2 mile, but she soldiered on. Serious rock star.
I ran beside a skinny guy dressed as a beer can for a while only to find out this was his second time that day and we were about to get muddier than we could even imagine. After the 3rd mud hole, I found out he was right. This was the only time that day that my girly-girl side of me came out, because while the mud in my pants didn't bug me, my dirty hands did and because my whole body was covered, I couldn't wipe them off.
Probably the most treacherous parts were the 50 yards after a mud obstacle, because the combination of hard ground and slimy sneakers made it very slippery. Believe me, there is absolutely no gracefulness in trying not to bust your ass.
My favorite and most challenging part was the 'swamp'. On the website, it mentioned you had to go thru a swamp and under floating logs. (Yuuuh-uucckk) Well, they lied. You had to go over the floating logs. The water came up to my collarbone and I had go under water and push off the murky bottom to get enough momentum to roll over the log. And this had to be timed just right so the log would already be rolling in the right direction from one of the guys going over at the same time. There were four logs followed by a swim (it was a swim for yours truly since I am SHORT-not for most everyone else) in water logged tennies.
Tip #2 Tighten your shoe laces extra tight.
Running 3-point-something miles takes on a whole new flavor when your shoes weigh ten lbs.
The cargo net was easy-breezy, especiallly when you have been given the wonderful advice of grabbing on to the vertical ropes and not the horizontal.
Tip # 3 Bring a waterproof camera and take pix if you are not one of the weirdos actually trying to win this silly thing. (Oh and don't lose it if you do...more on that later.)
So we complete 12 out of the 14 obstacles and head around the last curve to the waiting fire, crowd and pit of muddy despair.
We are the only two runners around. We leap victoriously over the fire and the chanting starts. Very loud, very drunk chanting--clearly meant for us.
We speed up, look at each other and both dive head first into the muck. And the crowd goes wiiiiilllllldd. Or maybe that was my ringing ears and vibrating skull. Mud in my mouth, ears, eyes (I could barely see well enough not to get scalped), cleavage, crevices. Everywhere.
Mic stands up and, although my vision is blurry at best, I see about 5 pounds of mud drop out of her shirt. "I just had a mud baby!" she laughs.
We collect our much-deserved medals and decide to wear the mud proudly for a while as we go grab a beer. Besides, the lines for the water pumps were suspiciously long at this point.
Tip # 4 Do not attempt to hydrate with alcohol. Drink H2O FIRST.
After much picture taking and congratulations from strangers on our dirtiness, we head for the hoses...and they are not working.
We both manage to use the trickle of water to rinse our faces and hands.
Tip # 5 Bring eye wash to rinse out mud. (Yes, diving in the mud really was worth it!)
We wander around and have a few more beers before heading home. But seeing as I was not the one driving...and I was thirsty... I maaay have had a few more than Mic...without eating dinner...or drinking water. Thank God we left when we did. Aaannndd that's all I got to say about that.
We changed out of our muddy clothes at the car and while doing so I must have put the camera with all of our race footage on the ground and didnt' pick it up again. So pissed about that, but as Michela said, it's just another great reason to have to come back next year.
Tip # 6 Don't forget a change of clothes and maybe towels.
Tip # 7 Don't let the tipsy girl carry the camera.
Put aside my headache the next day, absolutely fantastic experience. Nothing better than feeling like a kid on a beautiful day with a great friend.
Warrior on!



Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Do I Really Have to Learn this Lesson?

This past Sunday at my wonderful little church, there was a gem of a sermon. You know the kind, one that starts you on a path to a new realization; the kind that is inspirational and a little uncomfortable at the same time. This one was about how does one go about loving God. What does that mean? (I am going to stop here and apologize to Fr Ron right now for my inadequate paraphrasing, not that he reads this. God, I hope not. Wait, am I allowed to say that? Oh hell...Doh!)
He tried to convey to us that Jesus told us that loving him meant following his teachings and actually walking in the ways of faith. It's that darned word 'obedience' popping up in its slippery way. Slippery because how often do we as adults actually think of obedience and how it relates to ourselves? I expect my dog to obey. I hope my kids obey. I wish my husband would obey, but me? Naaahhh.
In a long and beautiful connecting of the dots, he explained that obedience eventually--and naturally--leads to outward works that display our faith. And as we've heard, "Faith without works is dead."
But it seems that when I don't answer the door the first time, God will just keep knocking. The word obedience, I am realizing, has been bubbling up to the surface of my conscience for a while now in things i've read, thought and stumbled upon.
The most recent of these was a long overdue and much begrudged epiphany about money. Yeah, yeah, everything is God's in the first place, etc, but, man, is it hard to do. Several years ago, I listened to a totally different sermon (about tithing-insert groan here) by a totally different priest (whom I still love dearly even though he is far away) that has stuck with me ever since. He said that when we tithe, it is a way to break the hold that money has on our hearts and lives. It is a discipline that helps bring perspective and freedom. So slowly I have been trying to talk myself into this obedience by increasing the amount I give. Finally, at the beginning of this year, after being fed up with our workaholic situation that is totally dictated by money mascarading as security, I leapt. I cut the check first before all others, even when I know that month is going to be tough. (Even now I am struggling with this this month-so there will be a gut check here soon to see if I can keep it up. God help me if I'm wrong...HA, Ok, I'm a dork.) It's scary, but it turns out the priest at my church in Corpus Christi was right about loosening the stranglehold money has on you. Gripping onto faith provides a much more secure hold than clutching a checkbook. But as happens with all much needed lessons, they are rarely the endpoint in the journey, just another stepping stone. So it goes with obedience.
Because what is so painfully obvious is that even when we are struggling, we still have so much. And that makes me feel as though I don't do enough. So full circle, obey by loving thy neighbor through works? Is that the lesson I am coming to? I know it won't be my brain that figures this one out. But the painful truth is how easy--no not easy, how pathetic difficult it is to remember to look for ways to 'serve'. Hell (oh damn, there I go again), it's just too easy to be stuck inside my own head all the time. For instance, pathetic kudos to me when the sale at Kroger reminded me to pick up a few extra items for the food bank donation. But do you know how long that sad little $5 bag has been waiting to be donated? Two freaking weeks! Ridiculous.
It is so easy to obey my hunger, my wants, my emotions, but I don't have to guess that obedience without discipline, without a leap of faith, is just weakness.
He mentioned as parents we ask our children to be obedient, even when they don't understand our reasoning, because it eventually teaches them HOW to be good people. (My boys will tell you how many times I remind them that there are only two kinds of rules in our house: the kind that keep them alive and the kind that teach them how to be good men.) Our priest postulated, "Might not God be trying to guide us and teach us in the same way?"
I have begun to wonder if my going back to work is part of the obedience charge. I have had to realize that the path we have been searching for away from the oilfield is not about me. This is about where God needs and wants Kyle to be. I just look at the sky and say, "You're getting me out of the way? Seriously?!" And for some reason that sounds right. (Insert image of me sulking to my corner.)
So I'll try to stay open to the message obedience (submissiveness, good behavior, accordance, acquiescence, agreement, compliance, conformity, deference, docility, dutifulness, manageability, meekness, observance, orderliness, quietness, respect, reverence, servility, subservience, tameness, tractability, willingness--YIKES) can teach me.
Why couldn't He just have asked me to donate blood?

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Dancing with The Starts Impersonation

Waiting for my pictures from Warrior Dash for a full post coming soon, but suffice it to say we were dirty, dirty girls!
For now, I must share one of my weekly guilty pleasures: Aussie doing his Dancing with the Stars impersonations.
Enjoy :-P

Friday, April 30, 2010

Redneck Advice #27: Never Own a Dog that Looks Like a Rat


It must be said that if you do not live with or have a close relationship with at least one redneck, you are missing out. 'Necks have a fantastically down-to-earth view of the world that is just damn hillarious. Kyle was driving in the middle of nowhere Texas on a rig-move passing through a shotgun town with only a beer store/gas station and one other place of business. It wasn't until the 3rd pass through that he realized the other business was a hair salon called "Curl Up and Dye". AWESOME!!!!!

The night before he was drinking beer with the other hands (he'll be so mad at me for calling them that, ha!) on the motel balconey--in yet another Bumble town--when he saw a shadow of a bird or bat on the wall. In his tipsy state it startled the hell out of him, enough to make him duck. Good thing too, because just then an owl swooped down barely missing him. This incident launched crazy owl and bird stories, cuz if you live in the country everyone has at least a few of those. The funniest, or really the most awful story, was from his buddy who was outside with his dogs, one of which was a chihuahua. WARNING: Stop reading now if this is going to be too much for you...One minute walking along and sniffing the grass, next minute snatched up by a hungry barn owl who mistook him for a rat.
Cue music, "Ooooohhhh, I wish I was in the land of cotton. Old times they are not forgotten..."

Monday, April 26, 2010

What is a Warrior to Wear?

Warrior Dash 2010 is 6 days away. OMG, WTF and IDKwhatIwasthinking and every other acronym under the sun is going through my head as time draws near.
For those of you who haven't heard of it, Warrior Dash is a 3 1/2 mile marine-style obstacle course and race. You get a beer and a viking helmet for crossing the finish line. The only guarantee you have in this race is that you will be very dirty by the end. Cargo-net climbing, walking the plank, mud slide, climbing beneath barbed wire-you name it. I am so flipping excited I can't stand it.
But how to train for this? I don't exactly have any swamps or millitary training facilities handy, so I am just running my tush off--or trying to.
I did 3.5 ml today and it finally felt 'good' (as in no stopping, no cramping and minimal swearing). Last week in order to try to push myself a little more I attempted to insert my own local obtacles in my run, but I'm just not sure that it will suffice.

I am warrior-ing with Michela Palmer, my calm and beautiful, PhD-earning, soccer mom with doting husband, friend. (Thank God she is so sweet because being friends with her might almost be too much to bear, j/k Mic!)
We are both in dire need of a little more fun-crazy, versus crazy-busy in our lives and so...
Some warriors come in costume or warrior gear and we need to decide if we are going to do this.
I am drawing a blank, but I would love to hear any ideas from you. Funny T-shirt logos, color schemes or outfit suggestions would be greatly appreciated. Just remember, we are going to have to move--and slide, climb, run and try not to cough up a lung afterwards--in these getups.



Friday, April 9, 2010

The Truth is I Was Cold-Hard Busted

So I haven't wanted to write about this because it was embarrassing and painful. But seeing as how a seemingly small marital event has me tweaking my views and my attempts at being a better human, it must be laid out.
About a month ago, I hired a maid--a great one, an inexpensive one. I was bringing in steady local deadlines, taking care of my boys and their schedules, had the in-laws coming on the horizon and had hubbie away 80+hrs per week. A no-brainer.
Now that I am done defending myself, the history here is that hiring a maid gets Kyle's hackles up. Let's just say that since I don't work outside of the home, he doesn't get it. (I also spoil him, but that's another blog entirely.)
So while the maid was here, I cleaned out closets, de-cluttered, got all the crap out from under the beds and did laundry down to the last unmatched sock. When he came home, he said (with underserved surprise), "Wow! Did you clean all day?" And I said, "Yes."
Not exactly the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but--in and of itself--truthful enough. But really, is that actually different from a white lie?
So that interface passes by, with me sweeping my crumbs of guilt under my newly cleaned carpets, until the boys come home. BB walks in and asks, (again undeservedly!), "Mom, did the maid come today?" And I said, "No."
Not the whole truth and nothing having to do with the truth. Ugh.
Sure enough it came to blows with Kyle later, because if anything, we are honest with each other. He was beyond upset. I could only self-flaggelate until he believed I was sincerely sorry and I was. Because really, WHY DID I DO THAT? It's annoying, beneath me and petty. All to avoid a snotty comment from him--one that very likely would never have led to any type of argument.
I try to talk to my boys about having hearts of courage, especially when the truth seems daunting, but here I was slinking out the side-door-of-silly-falsehoods for no good reason.
During my apologies, I really wanted to scream and scratch and claw, "I did it because I don't trust you to have an appropriate response to these things. I did it because I wish you would just walk in my shoes for a change to see that my life can also be exhausting and stressful due to your crazy work-life. I lied because I just wanted a damn "pass" for a change." Thankfully for our marriage, I did no such crazy thing. We did discuss--later, much later--some of my feelings, but the fact remained that the argument (or more TRUTHFULLY, the apology session) was about lying, not about cleaning or walking in the wrong size shoes.
And now a month later, I am even more relieved I didn't make (too) many excuses or try to turn the tables because I realized something about lying. While my defenses stemmed from being busted in a bold faced lie, it turns out my logic was completely off. By lying, I stole Kyle's opportunity to understand or respond empathetically. If I really want him to learn to see my side, then I have to give him the chance to do so. And really this to me is one of the most self-loathing parts about the white lie--or any other 'small' sin we choose to indulge in--we lock ourselves into the pattern or situation we most wanted to change in the first place. If I want more time for myself, why fudge the details about how long I'll be at the gym or at dinner with a friend. If I want to lose weight, why pretend like I didn't eat those M&M's or that I didn't skip the workout all week? If I want Kyle to understand that I get tired and overwhelmed, WHY THE HELL WOULD I PRETEND I COULD HANDLE IT ALL?!!!?
Even during months when money is tight, I have a tendency to 'shelter' Kyle and put money matters in terms that sound more easily ingestible. I do it because I worry that he has a hard time being realistic about what a 'crisis' really is and I hate watching him get so worked up (and thus work even harder) to remedy a situation that will pass on its own with a little diligence and a lot of patience. But, here again, I am stealing away chances for him to learn this at all.
I know that I hate difficult times, emotions, situations. Who doesn't? But I also know that I learn a lot from them. I hate that too, but it's TRUE.
Hiding behind untruths and defending our choice to engage in them doesn't actually smooth the edges of a sharp life. It carves the patterns that injure us the most. Every lie wears a path away from our best selves and the lives God intends for us to live.
I am right when I tell the boys that it takes a heart of courage to tell the truth. I just didn't realize courage is bold enough to heal old wounds and bless me with growth.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

THE BEST American Idol Moment EVER

Last night watching American Idol.
Me: "Seriously, it's impossible not to like Ryan Seacrest."
Kyle: [Silence.] (Sidenote-Good thing, too, because really there is no appropriate way for a man to respond to that quip without outing himself as a total sissy--unless you are Mike Tyson.)

Man-pause here.

Kyle: "Hey, do remember that dork that co-hosted American Idol the first season, but left the show because he wanted more money?" Scoff/laugh...
Me: "Oh yeah! What an idiot."
Kyle: "Do you know, I think I recognized him on TV the other day."
Me: "Shut up. On what?"
Kyle: "I think he's the Burger King dude with the small hands."
Sound of size 6 1/2 feet running down the hall because I am about to pee myself from laughing so hard.


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Crickets? Seriously?


You had to be there.


VH1's "Where are they now?"
brian-dunkleman.jpg
Then. (Brian Dunkelman, if you must know.)

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And now, Burger King guy with little hands.

Friday, April 2, 2010

OUCH!..Here's Your Sign

I was in Fire class today and instructor/sweetheart Amy was talking about yoga positions that open up the throat chakra to improve your communication. Now you have to consider that this is a funny thing to be telling a group of mostly women, seeing as we girls usually do not have trouble finding something to say.
But it caught my attention because of a book I read a few years ago by Christianne Northrup, "Women's Bodies, Women's Wisdom". She is an ob/gyn who says there is no seperation between mind and body, that in fact what you are feeling physically is a direct manifestation of what you are feeling emotionally. In other words, we store our emotions and thoughts in our bodies. Especially with pain, it is often a signal of emotional baggage that we have not dealt with.
She lists the chakras and suggest the different types of issues associated with certain areas--and boy did she nail it.
One of my re-curring problem spots is in my throat--thyroid, a tendency to go hoarse and a few other issues; and this area is, as Amy mentioned, related to communication. Huh? I am a female, a mom, a type-A personality, a former sales rep and a writer--of all issues, you would think I could take a pass on communication. But it turned out that the true root of my issues--especially at the time I was reading this book, wasn't about not knowing what to say. It was about not feeling heard. I'm sure so many moms know this drill--yelling at the kids, disciplining but seeing no change, circular arguements with your husband that never get you anywhere. I was also facing some extreme challenges with my mom and I was desperately lonely from moving half way across the country. It was really eye opening to
"see" a result of the emotional pain I was pretending not to have.
Realizing that my measuring tape did not read "practically-perfect-in-every-way" was humbling, but it was eventually liberating. My aches and pains are waving their hands and shouting, "Here's your sign." And at moments when I am brave enough to look at the damn sign, it typically has an arrow and reads, "Start here," putting me on a path of honesty leading to real healing.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Maneater, cha-cha-cha!

It isn't what I do, but how I do it. It isn't what I say, but how I say it, and how I look when I do it and say it. Mae West


I don't mind living in a man's world as long as I can be a woman in it. Marilyn Monroe


Ok, it's Shallow Gal time. Tonight is round 2 for Dancing With the Starts--primo guilty pleasure and I must talk about Pamela Anderson. I was absolutely mesmorized watching her last night: not because of her boobs' ability to defy all movement, NOT because of outstanding dance skills and not because her mannerisms were a little left of sober. I could not take my eyes of her for the same reason that men everywhere cannot take their eyes off of her. She is a predator.
As naive as it sounds, I have always assumed that the role of femme fatale was exactly that--a role, a persona that the confident slip on, like a negligee, to lure the sloppier sex. I had no idea it was a personality trait, but after watching Pammy, it must be. When she gave men hugs, her body wrapped around them like a blanket. When she smiled, she tilted her chin down and her eyes up. Because of her proportions, her partner's hands could barely be placed in an appropriate spot on her body during the dance (although, I do get the distinct impression that even her armpit is probably so brazen it alone could make a man...well, you know). She even BIT her partner out of--sheer excitement???--after the performance. Who does that?! Every inhale, every movement, every smile was like watching her have sex. She even licked her lips constantly, something I try not to do ever in public because I am sure I would look like an affectionate buffalo.
I was mesmerized. I was jealous. I was scared.
I couldn't help but think that there must be something a little broken there, and my heart goes out to her. But another part of me wondered at her total ownership of the female power. Couldn't there be something to learn from that.
--Pause please to let that sink in, or to just breathe heavy for a minute--
Marilyn, Mae, Cleopatra...I have a new appreciation for their legacy.
So Ocho Cinco move over, I am tuned in to watch America be turned on.
Kyle just laughed at me and asked, "You didn't know there was something else going on besides what she looked like? How do you think she got picked out of the crowd at a baseball game?"
Duh...
Check Pamela Anderson's 1st dance here ;) Dance Pammy Dance!

Friday, March 26, 2010

Best First Words

When the song "Invisible Hand" came out, I truly thought it was the best beginning of a song I had ever heard
I found god
On the corner of 1st and Amistad
Where the west was all but won
All alone, smoking his last cigarette


But tonight I had a welcome blast from the past when Counting Crows' "Round Here" came on my ipod.

Step out the front door like a ghost
Into the fog where no one notices
the contrast of white on white.
In between the moon and you
The angels get a better view of
The crumbling difference between wrong and right.
I walk in the air between the rain
Through myself and back again...

Those type of lyrics are 'soul yummy'.
Great way to start a Friday night.
I'd love to hear any others that you can think of....

Monday, March 22, 2010

Drove My Chevy to the Levee but the Levee Was Dry...

I am mourning another death--that of our freedoms, liberties and choices. It seems all the more painful that these are small little deaths that most people don't understand, except to continually wake up in an Alice in Wonderland type fog asking, "How did we get here?"
Of course I am referring to the disgusting passage in the House of the Health Care Reform Bill.
From here on out, I will be doing my best to vote against any and all incumbents--including my impotent conservative "representatives". Do you know how many votes the Dems just bought with their little "Yes we can" popularity contest? 32 million.
The only positive thing that could possibly come out of this would be to see a voter revolution, one that has we the people chanting "Yes We Can kick your sorry, self-serving, pompous asses out of office."
But the lazy will prevail. It is easier to stick our heads in the sand then to actually learn about the effects this will have on our system (not to mention our individual paychecks.) Did you know that congress can opt out of this insurance? Hmm, so what's good for the voting goose is not good for the representing gander. When asked directly, Obama would not could not say that he would choose this for his family.
People cry, "But something needs to be done about today's healthcare and insurance fiasco!" And I totally agree, but this is not it. There are many well-thought out options that could unravel insurance companies' stranglehold on us and our doctors, while helping those less fortunate, but those options don't buy votes because they would retain a bit of private autonomy.
Make no mistake, our public officials' job description is to get re-elected, not to look out for our best interests.
I could go on and on, but why. The one last thing I will add is simply this: this is another brick in the wall for why the Baby Boomers will not be looked upon kindly by history.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Off We Go into the Great Girl-yonder...

So all of this thinking about change and about what is my calling has me relating it to my boys. At 6 & 8, they have all the time in the world to be so wonderfully un-formed and unencumbered, but it doesn't let me off the hook as their mom.
My girlfriends have heard me say a million times it is hillarious that I didn't have a daughter. Now don't get me wrong, I am the quintessential Boys' Mom. Boys are meant to be boys and should be raised to be good men. My discipline style is very narrow and immediate. I am absolutely crazy about boys and their God-given maleness, which has blessed me with a whole new appreciation for my hubbie, my dad and all the other great men I am lucky to know.
But back in the day, I just knew exactly what to say to a girl. I wanted to give her the gift of confidence with a touch of pride so that she would know not to give up her power (sexually and socially) so easily. I wanted her to have a passion for for passion--to be bold without apologizing for her femininity and to follow her heart whether it was to her babies or to the White House.
So that brings me to my boys. If I am trying to live an authentic, female life, how is that supposed to translate to my mothering job? I know that I want the boys to live character-filled lives and we have conversations quite often about this. (I am known to tell them that there are only two types of rules in our house: the first kind helps them to stay alive and the second is to teach them to be good men). But I think there is more that I can give them and I am trying to frame this big picture. I am starting with the idea that girls are Wonderful. I want to plant a seed in their hearts that lets them know that the right girl will inspire them, challenge them and help them to be more than they could be on their own, and in turn should be cherished for this and supported in her turn. I hope one day they will choose someone they have to earn. But I think there is more and I would love to hear from other moms--of boys and girls-- what thet hope the men of tomorrow will know and believe.
Cole told me a couple months ago about a girl in his class that he thought about alot. He would bring her pictures of puppies and hold his breath when she sat down near him, but told me she didn't talk to him very much.
"Do you talk to her first?" I asked.
"No."
"Well, you know it's hard for girls to talk to boys too if they don't have brothers or don't know you very well," I answer. "Girls get shy, too."
He thought for a moment and asked, "Well how do I get her to talk?"
"Always start with your manners and then just get to know her--what does she like, what is her family like, what makes her smile? After that is should get easier," and I gave him a quick hug. "Girls will always appreciate being listened to." I add.
"OK," and he runs off to be with his brothers as if we never had a conversation at all.
But I saw him in school recently with this girl and her best friend, and they were all laughing and talking. He just looked at me with a devilish smile.
Later I query, "Looks like you figured out how to talk to girls. I told you they aren't scary."
"I know. And they like it when I tease them too."
Oh boy, here we go...

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Brownies

Not too long ago, a blast from my elementary school past tagged me in a photo on facebook, because she had come across an oldie but goody of our girl scout troup. It spawned a discussion amongst half of the sweet little things in that picture about which set of stairs we were sitting on, and it was the first time I have spoken with many of them since middle school. (In Atlanta, outside the Cyclorama near the zoo if you must know.) One, wild, reckless darling is still a very dear friend, but almost all the others are honeysuckle whispers in my memories. While I don't know all of the updates on them, one is a published author, many are moms, there is a teacher or two, a Chic-fil-A owner's wife and a musician, which makes me wonder what our small selves would have thought about that. I actually think we would have been kind to our adult selves. Because while we were making backpacks out of old jeans and cooking campers' pies over the fire, we were mostly learning about the bonds that are possible between women and all the things we could accomplish if we wanted to. Oddly, with all the time we spent together, my memories of girl scouts and those old friends I have such a soft spot for are thin and difficult to piece together. Lisa gave me a bit of insight into who I was back then, via her mom who was our troop leader, when she recalled how I was always so independent--always did my own thing. I wish so much I could go back and see. I guess hindsight isn't really 20/20 and besides what would I be expecting to learn about my own self? The fond memories and the occasional re-connect are all I need to know about who I was back then and the lessons I have chosen to hold dear.

Hi-ho-hi-ho, Here comes the work discussion, oh-no...

I am reading a book called "Dancing Naked at the Edge of Dawn" by Kris Radish. A really wonderful, poetic chic-read abut a woman who is launched into a new phase of her life when she catches her husband in bed with another woman. She travels to Mexico, she travels into her past and she travels into her own soul to discover why she has never embraced her real dreams. It's all about female friendships and turning away from fear. Yummy.
Well, K and I have had yet another come-to-Jesus conversation about how we live our lives. Three weeks ago, he worked 82 hours in seven days, but we stay locked to this ridiculous scenario.
I say "we", but to be fair and not falsely make myself sound like a cross between June Cleaver and Mother Teresa, I very much feel like its his choice that I am locked into. Our agreement was and is, he brings home the bacon and I cook it. But then maybe I am just abdicating my part in this insanity, just like he does. Aren't we both saying, "I don't have a choice."
His solution, which I resent, is that I go "back to work". Work being loosely defined by being slightly miserable when you leave the house and having insurance. But he is right that my writing won't save us, unless I finish my novel and appear on Oprah before her last show OR really get my butt in gear to find a way to break into more profitable freelance markets.
So at the end of another circular conversation, I realize that in order for me to GO BACK TO WORK, he will have to agree to GO BACK TO SCHOOL. I feel we might be on the edge of a breakthrough. I need a higher cause to work for and he needs to re-dream some lost dreams. So I have been re-imagining myself WORKING. (I know I am being dramatic, but emphasizing with capital letters has cracked me up ever since I read this network marketing book about a sure fire way to get rich quick. At least 40% of the book was writen in capitals letters and it makes me laugh to this day, which I need during this discussion...)
Could I sneak my way into a media job? What about being a college professor? What could I do that would allow me to engage in public speaking? It appears that with the right mindset, I am re-dreaming some dreams as well. But whatever happens, one thing is for certain--thangs gonna change 'roun heeyah.
Thirty-five years old and still no idea where my life will lead...honestly? Thank God.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Getting Stuck in the Tracks of My Tears

I don't know whether it is coming through my posts or not, but I have been struggling lately and as it goes, I don't always know immediately what is at the root of it, since there are several obvious issues we plod through everyday (namely Kyle's insane workload).
Well, yoga has provide a quasi-consistent way for my inn(h)er to work it's way out(h)er and today somethings really hit home--so much so that I began to cry once I entered Sivasana at the end of class. When the damn breaks...
At the root of it is expectations and disappointment, and the sad part about this is that it is all self inflicted. I am disappointed in me. I feel like I should be working on my novel with more fervor, like I should be searching for new venues to publish my work, that I should be at least bringing in more money if the other two aren't being accomplished and if all three of those are going the way of most good intentions, then what the hell do I have to show for my time? (Certainly not a clean house or a zen-filled parenting approach.)
Why is it not enough to just be happy with me--as is--right now? Goals are good. I am a huge believer in their power to keep you moving onward and upward, but I am somehow getting stuck in their trap of not enough...writing, exercising, earning, cleaning, listening.
Is it guilt? Maybe. I do feel guilty that Kyle works so hard and that I now have space in my life thanks to full-day kindergarten.
I do feel guilty that others have it more difficult than we do and that I still get sad. I mean, really, what do I actually have to be sad about? I have a beautiful family. I am allowed to pursue my passion. We are healthy.
I have tried to structure my days and calendar more effectively to become more productive. (This is a favorite band-aid of mine I use to convince myself that if everything is orderly then the magical, yellow brick road leading to the land of Perfect will appear before my every step.) But, it is not in my personality to fold my underwear or keep the pencil drawer from turning into the junk drawer for more than 2 days.
Where is the peace? I pray and I know that there is a lesson to be learned, but I can't find it yet. Give it to God vs. Pull Yourself Up by Your Bootstraps?
I actually don't think there is anything wrong with a little melancholy now and again. If short lived it can make you uncomfortable enough to do things differently. I don't believe every second of every day is supposed to be sunshine and bunnies, but I don't have to like it when I'm in it.
I do wonder if other people do this? Without naming it DEPRESSION, do other people get sad?

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Winter Blahs and Band-aids

OK, the grey sky is seeping into my soul. This little light of mine peeks it's head out after hot yoga for about an hour before sulking back into the mist of winter. Ugh. I don't know how anyone endures this for more than a few months. My hats off to them.
So my oldest little boo broke his collarbone at school tripping over his own feet. It's true you can't keep a good man down. He is bouncing, running and harrassing his brothers (at risk to his own health) through it all. I guess this is just a live-through-this moment in time.
Finally the scale has moved and The Grand Total is -4 lbs. Not earth shattering, but enough to give me hope. I needed it after last weekend's back slide into cookie dough. You won't believe, I actually ate a sweet potatoe for lunch yesterday--wha.? Maybe there is hope for me afterall, or maybe they can just figure out how to make alcohol healthy. Where are the forward-thinking scientists when you need them?
I gave up a list of things for Lent and cookie dough was definitely a bigfat NO. So when I confessed to hubbie that I slipped, he just replied, "That's alright. You'll only burn an extra day for each of those bites." ?!? What a sweetheart!
Say hello to my newest girls!
So to fight the grey I have been reverting to bandaids--boot shopping(clearance sales, whoop whoop, nobel prize for Nordie's and Dillards for giving February a boost), hot yoga and reading Malcolm Gladwell(gladwell.com). Now, I know the last two might seem more like a root canal than a day at the beach, but hear me out.
In regards to reading nonfiction, Gladwell is perfect for inspiring thoughts that have nothing to do with my immediate reality--nerdy escapism if you will. (Yes, I definitely have closet nerd in me.) Also, in his book The Tipping Point, he outlines three different personality types that drive social epidemics. It has gotten me thinking that many of us may over-state the importance of A TALENT--musical, artistic, athletic--in evaluating our worth, because who you are at your core might be even more influential than you know.
And... I had a yoga epiphany yesterday, or actually it was given to me by the divine yogii Amy. While Bikram yoga has been referred to as the torture chamber, she pointed out that by allowing your body to work so incredibly hard, it takes the pressure off your mind giving the ever active and neurotic electrical impulses a little peace. It's true--by focusing on breathe here, balance there, strengthen this, tighten that and bonda where the sun don't shine, it is absolutely impossible to obsess or worry about anything outside of those blue walls. It is optimal timing for that message too, because I was NOT happy during Bow and Locust. http://www.sivananda.org/teachings/asana/locust.html
Funny sidenote, as I was searching for a link for Locust, I literally laughed out loud when I saw the full progression of this position. It is safe to estimate that my feet are probably 2 inches off the ground and probably safer to estimate that they will never, never be anywhere near my head. Hillarious!
So that's how I am trudging through the last days of winter. Any other band-aid ideas would be greatly appreciated!

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Twinkie, Twinkie Little Star

"Give me the twinkie. Give it to me know!" [Sounds of a struggle and then small feet running away.] "Come here you little__, give me that twinkie NOW!" That is the daydream I had right before picking the kids up for school: ripping a sweet treat out of my children's clutches to shove in my face and loving every minute of it. Never mind that I don't like twinkies, nor do I keep them in my house, and probably have not even tasted one since the 4th grade. Oh and I guess I'm not really for stealing from little kids, but...
I am hungry, dammit!
OK, fair warning that this is going to be a bit of a rant. I am cranky and hungry and Aunt Flo just stopped by for a visit(oops too much info, ho well) But here goes
I...HATE...EATING...HEALTHY. Anyone with me? And I swear it only gets harder not easier.
This started out as one of my New Year's Resolutions because 4 lbs had creaped to 8 lbs and, one very sad morning, the scale told me I had reached double digit status. It was time to reverse and Jan 1 is as good a time as any.
This is not one of those fishing for compliments bullshit. I know that some of my friends--especially my good ones like April who will lie to my face to make me smile--insist I am full of shit and not fat, BUT, when only ONE pair of my denim, that I paid a pretty penny for (or tens of thousands of pretty pennies, but who's counting) fits, there is a problem. I also know that the muffin top is not of my imagination--especially when dearest husband likes to pinch it and laugh. (Yes, I know I am sadistic for being married to him, but he does have his moments. It's just that that was not one of them...) Not to mention that I went through alot of moolah and alot of pain to discover that the tummy tuck is truly one of the most incredible medical advances of our day-genome project?whatever. (Kudos here to Kyle-dearest for paying for said miraculous tuck even though he was STRONGLY against it.)
So anyways, with the support of my sis who is also on a healthy kick(but that's a-whole-nother story) I am "eating clean". I am following the Eat Clean book by Tosca Reno which advocates eating every 2-3 hours(check), protein and complex carbs at each meal(...uhm, check?) and sugar in any form--white bread, pasta, rice, chocolate, ALCOHOL--is poison and should be completely avoided (.... .... .... Bueller? Bueller?).
Why do I hate myself so much as to do this? This feels not like 'my body is my temple', but more like 'my body is my torture chamber'. The books says that I will feel so good that I wouldn't dream of going back to my toxic ways. Let's just say that's a bit of an overstatement.
Yes, I feel better, but is it better than how I feel while I am indulging in Cherry Garcia in July, or cracking open a Bud Lite on a Bad Day, or savoring every cheese inspired bite of pizza JUST BECAUSE i LIKE PIZZA?!
So it has been 34 days (I actually started on the 2nd), no fast food, only 1 tiny trip to BWW and alcohol only when I really needed it(none of your business how often that really is) and I have lost a whopping 1.6 lbs. What?! Ever?!
[Moment of pissed off silence please...]
So because I can't afford to buy a new jean wardrobe and because of serendipity--more on that in a moment--I am now writing ev-er-ee-thing-guh down. It turned out that my super healthy muesli b-fast was actually costing me 720 cals a day because I didn't notice the serving size was only a 1/4 cup ( I wish you could have seen my face when I had that epiphany )and that I desperately needed a plan for 3:30 PM when the kids are flaunting their cheetos in my face.
So with renewed vigor in month 2, onward and downward--in size--hopefully.
So the serendipitious moments I was referring to: Did anyone see the Oprah (sans bonbons) about where our food comes from and what it actually does to our bodies? Here's a stat, U.S. humas take 3 Mill lbs of antibiotics per year. U.S. food animals take 28 Mill lbs of those puppies, hence so do we. And here I thought the trend toward antibiotic resistance and the inevitable superbugs were all because of too many Z-pacs. I would go on, but really the rest is too depressing--think hormones, toxins, steroids and preservatives which basically make us fat, sick, ugly and old. NICE. Oh and the comment on there when they said that the 'low-fat' food trend that ramped up in the 80's is one of the leading causes of the obesity and diabetes crisis, because afterall if you lower fat, you have to substitute it with sugar to make up for the taste. Double NICE.
I also was just assigned an onslaught of medical profiles in which I listened to doctor after doctor say sugar and convenience foods are the devil. Even a vascular surgeon who depends on us clogging our arteries or stroking out to stay in business, is fed up(sorry bad pun).
So the bottom line is I ain't goin' out like that. Nuh-uh. I'd rather be cranky now than infirm later. To my boys: "Sorry. I know mommy is cranky now someday you'll thank me for towing the line." Unless of course I refuse to take my hormone meds and am making your adult lives miserable and then of course maybe you'll wish you would have shared your twinkie.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Southerners in the Snow

This is what happens when Texas gets snow for Christmas!
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Friday, January 22, 2010

I got inked!

Whoo-hoo! Two years in the making and I finally got the long awaited tattoo. Nikki, my sis, and I have the exact same one on opposite feet. Thus our sister tattoo has an N and a D embedded in the image. Bo from Local Heroes in Dallas did it. And when the other artist asked me if it hurt I just answered honestly and said, "Yeah, I'm kind of ready to slap him for doing that to me."
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Resolution Sabotage

Self sabotage is my middle name, and it's insanely pathetic that I know this.
Let me back up and tell you a little about my New Year's resolutions, because probably references to these will be made over the next 11 month seeing as I am a (supposed) former over-achiever and some habits die hard, like perpetual goal setting. Onward and upward as they say.
So here were/are my resolutions.
1. Typical female must of losing 10 lbs. How it got to be ten, I don't know. OK, yes I do. Buf wild wings+too many sanity necessary beers+late night munching+ more freelance jobs=lots of time sitting on my ass and 10 extra pounds. Anyways...
2. Build more community. As I've told you, charming, cowboy boot wearing husband is a workaholic. Think less than 1 day off per week, no real vacay in 10 years, 60+ hours per week(conservitively). He's in the oil field. It sucks. He hates his schedule, I hate his schedule and yet we keep on chuggin. Well, I do OK with this usually, but it definitely catches up with me and most recently, my reality check came in the form of an epiphany about my kids' sports. The boys are good athletes(come on, I'm allowed a little mama bragging!) and we are typically at a field of some sort 4 days per week. So welcome november and december and a lull between seasons and good-bye socialization and getting out of the house. I had to come to grips with the fact that I had a major case of the L-word. Lonely.
So I am making a major push to actually use all the numbers I have in my phone and re-claim some version of normal. I am prowling for friends.
3. Take yoga at least 3x's per week. I want to check out the mind, body, spirit thingy.
4.Finish my chic lit novel and take my writing to the next level. That means turning down the easy to get, paying jobs to try and land dream jobs.

So what am I doing about this? Eating a buffalo chicken sandwich (with bacon--did you know you could do that? yuh-ummh) on french bread, taking a break from writing one of the ten deadlines I accepted that I said I wouldn't, using my new tatto ;P as an excuse why I am unable to do any yoga at all this week and writing about it in my blog instead of calling one of my local girls to confess so they can give me a much needed kick in the pants(that I am not fitting into very well).
Oh well, back on the wagon tomorrow.