The "Freebie List"

"Rachel: Alright, let me see. Uma Thurman, Winona Ryder, Elizabeth Hurely, Michelle Pfieffer, and... Dorothy Hammill?
Ross: Hey, it's my list.
Rachel: Okay, honey, you do realize she only spins like that on ice."

A few nights ago, J and I were watching old Friends reruns. Funny how, at the time, they were so super cool. But looking back?  I can't believe I ever wanted to dress like Rachel or have Monica's short black hair.  

I digress.

So it was the "Freebie List" episode, where they all consider what five celebrities would be on their "freebie list" ~  five people they can sleep with without anyone getting upset.  And remember?  Ross finally gets his list finalized by eliminating Isabella Rossellini... then he bumps into her. Classic.

J and I got to talking about who would be on our lists. J's included Anne Hathaway, Jessica Biel, Jennifer Aniston, Jessica Simpson and Eva Mendes. It was almost scary how fast he came up with his list.

Let me tell you, it was freakin' hard to decide for mine. I kept putting someone on my list. Taking them off. Switching them out for someone else. Putting them back on.  But I finally got it narrowed down:  Jason Whitten, Adam Sandler, David Boreanaz, Leonardo DiCaprio and, of course, Brad Pitt.

"Adam Sandler?  Really?" remarked J. "Wow, that makes me feel better."

"Why?"

"Because he's a goofy bastard, like me."


I didn't even ask if I was supposed to feel worse because none of the girls he chose are remotely close to me. Except maybe Anne Hathaway -- we have the same color hair. And I'm sure she has 10 toes?

Irrational Fear

"Why do we feel safe under blankets? It's not like a murderer will come in thinking, 'I'm gonna ki... ahh damn! She's under a blanket.'" ~ 9gag.com


J's been in Vegas this past week for work. So, baby and I had a LOT of time to bond.  At six months now, he's quite the squirmy little guy -- sit up, lay down, roll over, help stand, pet the dogs, throw the toys... not crawling, barely sitting and quite the squealer.  

I was dreading this week, but it went more smoothly than I could have ever thought possible. The worst part was after baby went to bed, sitting in this empty house allll alone, listening to every creak and wondering which door the {insert zombie, alien, axe murderer} would try to barge through. Yeah, so I have an over-active imagination.  

At some point I have to dig out my big girl panties so I don't pass my irrational fears onto baby. Which is definitely something I worry about.  All the time.  I sometimes think, "How did I get this way?" It cracks J up when I hear something outside in the middle of the night, and scooch closer to him or get up to lock the bedroom door. It's not like I watched a ton of scary tv when I was a kid.  Though, I do recall watching Poltergeist and X-Files. But other than that, it was all sunshine and rainbows.  

Maybe my parents just never taught me how to rationally deal with fear.  It was always, "That's silly, don't worry about that" or "That'll never happen" or "It's fake".  Fear was swept under the rug.  Feelings weren't dealt with, just told to go away.  I think I want to teach my boy that, while it might be silly to fear a certain something, here are some steps you can take to overcome that fear.  Or to help you deal with what you're feeling even if no one else understands. And if something terrible does happen, that I'll be there, fighting tooth and nail to protect him.  

Otherwise, he'll be 31 years old, hiding under the covers with all the lights on, the alarm set, the bedroom door locked, clutching his cell phone and wondering if he should turn on the news just incase something has come to over-take the world.

Not that that's what I've been doing the past few nights or anything...

Catching Up

Seems like life has been a whirlwind since my last real post in August of 2010:

• Road trip to Galveston with J
• Floated the Comal River with friends
• Had a little Cali adventure
• Celebrated 30th birthdays
• Got pregnant
• Watched J survive two layoffs with his company
• Had a beautiful baby boy
• Tried balancing working from home & taking care of Baby
• Almost got canned myself
• Quit my job

Guess that's about it in a {really big} nutshell. I feel like I'm finally starting to unwind a bit, and finally getting to enjoy Baby (and life) without the added stress of trying to juggle a conference call with a blowout diaper.  And a stressed out husband.  And a messy house.

So many stories, so little time.  Oh, wait.  Now that I'm a "Domestic Engineer" {ahem}, maybe I finally do have time.  

Whoop whoop!

Pee-rivacy

"The only time the world beats a path to your door is if you're in the bathroom." ~ Anonymous

Some days you wake up and you think the day is going to be awesome. Other days you wake up, step in cat vomit, and just know that it's only going downhill from there.

I was supposed to meet J for lunch at noon. When 12:20 rolled around and I was STILL stuck in my meeting, I texted him under the desk and told him to go ahead and order. Fifteen minutes later I drove like a banshee to the sandwich shop, only to find him still in line.

I motioned to him that I was going to make a pit stop and made my way through the crowded tables to the restroom. Now, instead of having a separate hall leading to the bathrooms, this place had a single men's door and a single women's door, right off the dining area. I knocked, entered and locked the door.

Sitting peacefully and wondering why I drank three sodas and a bottle of water this morning, the heavy door flew open. An older blonde lady -- apparently even more surprised than I was -- screamed bloody murder, causing everyone in the sub shop to look in our direction. Like a deer in headlights, I froze. After what seemed like an eternity, the door slammed shut.

Mortified, I finished my business, washed my hands and silently hoped a window would appear so that I could crawl my way out. No such luck. I opened the door to find the lady there. "Sweetie! I'm sorry but you should have locked the door!". I warned her that is was broken, as every eye in the place was stuck in our direction.

Even though it was colder than hell, I made J sit outside. Of course, he couldn't stop laughing. "It could have been worse", he joked, "at least you weren't taking a dump."

Way to see the positive, J.

Case of the Mondays ... er, Tuesdays

For some reason, today feels like Monday. Maybe it's because I didn't get anything accomplished yesterday. Maybe it's because I'm getting a little bored in my job, and all the days seem like a "blah" day.

I'm trying sooo hard not to get burnt out at work. I couldn't ask for anything more -- great pay, flexible schedule, cool boss. But is that enough? Here lately, I've been craving something new, something more creative, something that might make a difference is this ginormous world.

Right now I'm supposed to be creating a 12-hour training class. But, instead, I'm sitting on the comfy leather couch at Legacy Books, sipping on a cold Diet Coke and blogging. Because I just can't find the darn motivation to get crackin' on my presentation. Seems like the story of my life here lately.

I've been at this job for almost two years now -- which is amazing considering I usually change jobs like I change shoes. Guess I'm just itching for something different.

But what?

Defining Moments

"Life isn't measured in minutes, but in moments." ~ Author Unknown

The other night, J and I nestled onto the couch and finally watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend you watch it. It's a little weird. It's a little sad. It's a little long.

But it awakened something in me that I hadn't felt in awhile. That desire to live life without apology, to seek out what makes your soul truly happy, to find the courage to overcome the staleness in life and do something. It reminded me to not let go of who I once was and what once brought joy to my life. That age doesn't matter -- it's how you feel that defines who you are.

It may sound like the same ol' "seize the day" mantra that seems to flow superficially through life. But it is so much more than that, at least to me. There is soo much out there that I would love to do, love to experience. Why should I settle into a mediocre pattern in, well, Dullsville?

Doesn't matter who you are or where you are in life, you have the power to change it. To grasp that piece of this world that you cannot live without. New places, new faces -- I crave something to break this cycle of boredom that I seem to be stuck in. I methodically awaken each morning, dress, work, go through the paces of life. I just know there is soo much more to experience than I have been.

What happened to the girl who dreamed of living outside of her small world, taking every opportunity to learn, to experience, to see with her own eyes what others only read about? Still dreaming. Still waiting.

I leave you with my favorite passage from the movie -- read it, grasp it, live it. I know I'm going to try.

"It's never too late or ... too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again."

Hump Day

"The only thing wrong with doing nothing is that you never know when you're finished." ~ Author Unknown

Maybe because it's Hump Day, but I have the F-its weighing me down heavily. Soo much to get done, soo little care to do it. Think instead I'll turn my "To Do" list into my "I Don't Want To" list ... at least until tomorrow.

1. Clean the litter box
2. Fold laundry
3. Run
4. Finish my presentation for work
5. Bathe the dogs
6. Pay the mortgage
7. Schedule a dentist appointment
8. Call the water sprinkler repair guy
9. Shower

Hope you guys have more motivation today than I do!

Cheers to a New Year

"New Year's Resolution: To tolerate fools more gladly, provided this does not encourage them to take up more of my time." ~ James Agate

Well, folks, it's 2009. A new year, a new post and, of course, new resolutions. Despite my best efforts to talk J into driving to Shreveport last night -- I enjoy a little spontaneity; J, however, cringes -- we opted for a quiet dinner out on the town square, followed by a rampage through nearby neighborhoods to take photos with strangers' lawn decorations.

Not really sure who came up with the idea, but we now have a dozen or so photos of us with random lighted snowmen and blow-up Santas. We did exert a smidge of class: Nativity scenes and angels were off limits. For future reference, New Years Eve isn't the best night for this kind of behavior as several of the houses were in the midst of NYE parties ...

Moving along to resolutions. I think it's fun to set goals for yourself and think about new opportunities for a fresh year. Let's see how many I can actually accomplish:

1. Stick to my running schedule. My marathon is three months away -- I need to kick the laziness to the curb and train harder.
2. Drink more water. That means cutting out the 5 diet sodas I drink every day that my doc says is the root of my continuous belly ache.
3. Get out of debt. This should actually be number one for '09, but it's the least fun, I think. But, if we stay on track, we should be in good position by summer.
4. Travel. Travel. Travel. But, just depends on how 3 goes. Puerto Rico may be in the works for early this year, and we definitely want to go snowboarding.
5. De-clutter! This goes for the closets, the garage and life in general.
6. Stretch my brain. Never stop learning or cease to grow -- it's the key to longevity.
7. Create new adventures. I spend more time worrying and over-thinking when I could be experiencing something new and amazing. Just get out there and do it -- worry about the bruises later.
8. Spend more time with the ones that keep me grounded. Make time for happy hours, pokeno nights, late-night chats, laughter, tears and everything in between.
9. Volunteer. That goes for my time, my things, my mind. Team-In-Training has been one of the most amazing things I've done, and I hope to stick with them for years to come.
10. Did someone say "baby"? Yeah, so I think this is the year we'll start trying. After my marathon, of course!

Other than that, I just want to "keep on keepin' on" (come on, from Joe Dirt). Anyway, I hope everyone has a blessed 2009. It'll only be as good as you allow it to be!

Goodbye, Old Friend

"If you're alone, I'll be your shadow. If you want to cry, I'll be your shoulder. If you want a hug, I'll be your pillow. If you need to be happy, I'll be your smile. But anytime you need a friend, I'll just be me." ~ Author Unknown

They came to take you away from me today. When I handed over the keys, I tucked my head and went into the house. I watched from the front window as you grew farther from me, red taillights growing dim in the cold fog, tears splashing down my cheeks. It all happened so fast -- I don't think I even told you good bye. So, goodbye, Old Friend. You were my first taste of freedom, my guardian angel, my warmth on cold nights.

Remember the night I wanted to run away? Wanted to get away from this world that I thought was so bad? You let me vent, you calmed my nerves, you took me home.

And the night Rusty and I ran from the cops? We were so freakin' scared that night, but we managed to get away. We still die laughing whenever we think about that night.

Remember when you helped move me up to college? If only I'd known then what I know now. Maybe we would have never gotten those parking tickets, or drove two hours to ogle over that hockey coach, or gotten that horrible job down the road at Tias.

And gosh, how many times did I skip Trig that one spring, just so we could go hit balls at the driving range and soak up some sunshine. I even found some old golf tees in the trunk the other day. Along with some dog treats from all the times we would stop to help stranded dogs along the side of the road. And I even found a few tapes from back in the day -- there's no telling what's on them.

Remember that night I was headed to Dallas to meet up with Carter? I was soo tired of the drama, of the games. We saw the sign for I-45 to Houston. And I took it. And we drove five hours to the beach, only stopping once for gas and snacks. We made it into Galveston a little before 3 in the morning, stopped at a gas station to refill and get some magazines, and then I sat in the empty I-Hop until just before sunrise. And remember? We hopped on the ferry just as the sun was beginning to rise, and the dolphins began to surface all around. I'll never forget the beach we found, where I sat for hours in the soft sand, the cold waves lapping at my toes, the smell of salt and sea helping me to see clearly for the first time in months. And then we turned around and drove home. I'll never forget that trip.

And I'll never forget you. There are soo many memories from the past nine years, it's hard to share them all. I know you'll have many more over the years to come. What's that old saying, "No road is too long with good company?" It's true. And the tears are starting to fall again.

So goodbye, Old Friend, goodbye.

If Women Ruled the World

"Women really do rule the world. They just haven't figured it out yet. When they do, and they will, we're all in big big trouble." ~ 'Doctor Leon', drleons.com

Since we have nothing in the pantry besides canned pineapple and dog treats, J and I decided we would hit up the grocery store before dinner. We never quite made it -- instead of veering left for the store, we were distracted by the pink glow of Taco Cabana across the street.

While stuffing our faces with chips and queso, we started chatting about babies and such. J's cousin had called me last night to excitedly exclaim that she was pregnant (her second) and wonder if we'd started trying yet.* In J's family, there are five kids under the age of four -- only one is a boy. Which means holidays are spent listening to the oldest shouting Taylor Swift in between screams over who gets to play with the Dora doll.

J's really hoping that she has a boy. "Could you imagine another girl?" he said in between mouthfuls of taco. "You girls are going to take over the world."

"Would that be soo bad?" I said jokingly.

"Are you kidding?" he shuddered. "If women ruled the world, nothing would get done and everything would smell pretty."

I had to think about that for a minute. When J does a load of dishes, I get every single detail including the when and how, complete with sound effects. But when I do a load of laundry, I just do it. For all J knows, the clean undies made it from the floor to the washing machine, to the dryer and then magically into the drawer by themselves.

So, is it less that women won't get anything done and more that we don't complain as much as men, therefore it seems like we don't get as much accomplished?



*That would be a big, fat N-O.

The Highschool Years

“High School: the mouse race to prepare you for the rat race.” ~ Unknown

I was tagged by Miss Caught Up to tell the story of my teenage years, something I really haven't thought about too much lately. So I'll give it a shot.

Highschool was an awkward time for me. My parents were ultra-conservative, my sister didn't pave the way like I thought she should have, so I was the so-called rebellious one. But, that mostly came after highschool.

Anyhoo. When I was a freshman, my sister was a senior at the same school. I was on the dance team. My favorite class was art. We had bomb threats almost every week. I was in all honors and AP classes. I made my first C ever. I played street hockey everyday after school with my sister and her friends. I fell in love with a boy I saw on the stairs the first day of my freshman year, who turned out to be in love with my best friend. I'll call him Tag. I learned that people can change, but not always for the better.

My sophomore year brought much of the same. Still played street hockey everyday after school, developing a crush on Goalie, a boy we played with. Still was a book nerd. Had long hair down to my waist. Danced. Volunteered at the nearby nature center. Still madly in love with Tag. Became tired of girls, thanks to the drama that was our dance team.

Junior year was a bit more complicated. My best friend and Tag broke up the summer before. He asked me out on a date, and I said "yes". He was the only guy my mom officially let me date during my entire highschool years. My best friend said she didn't mind, but I shouldn't have done it anyway. Tag and I dated on and off, but mostly off. I fell in love with Goalie, but he had a girl that profusely hated me. He and I became the best of friends. I still danced. I was inducted into the Honor Society. I developed a crush on Leo, a blue-eyed boy who swam with my best friend.

And senior year was complicated still. I was one of four Lieutenants on the dance team. I was going through EMT Training -- I truly believe there are some things 17 year olds should never see, bloody messes being one of them. My grades began to slip after mom said that no, I wouldn't be headed off to the college of my dreams but rather I'd be headed to the local junior college for two years first. With my sister. Who never tried at school. Leo got caught sneaking in my room -- which sounds terrible and R-rated, but we honestly just listened to music and talked. Okay, and made out. But whatever, we were banned from ever seeing each other again, creating a sort of "Romeo & Juliet" story for us which still lingers today. I joined the rugby team but told my parents I was just going to dance practice. I had to quit when they found out the truth. Goalie joined the Air Force and moved to New Mexico, where we finally realized we were more than just best friends. We talked on the phone constantly. Wrote letters (yes, real letters with stamps and everything). When he came home for Christmas, we went on our first official date. But it didn't take long for that relationship to fizzle as the longer he was in the Air Force, the more different he became. I graduated with honors, but my parents were a little disappointed when I wasn't in the top ten percent (I was in like the top twelve ... out of 600 kids).

Summer after highschool was spent playing roller hockey and working out at the gym where my sister worked. Over the next two years I met new boys, discovered alcohol, re-kindled my love for school and all things nerdy, stayed in and out of trouble, and eventually found my way to a four year college.

It's weird to take a look back, to feel some of the same emotions once again. It's interesting to note that in highschool I never really cared what boys thought. It was easy to say "no", to ditch the jerks, to avoid all the things that parents worry about (which my parents thought I was doing anyway). It was later, in college, that all of that went down the drain. But, I'll save that for a rainy day.

That's my story in a nutshell. I'd love to hear all of your stories -- so if you'd like to share, then I tag you!

Happy Birthday to Me

"Age is strictly a case of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter. ~ Jack Benny"

I'm now three chocolate Krispy Kremes and a Diet Pepsi into my birthday. Yesterday, a lady at work asked how old I was turning. She was shocked by my answer. "How old did you think I was going to be?" I asked. "At the most, 25," she responded with a laugh. Now, don't get me wrong, I usually relish the idea that people think I'm younger. But this time it only made me frown. Do I come off as a young person in an immature way or something?

I love practical jokes. I'm always late. I'm lucky if my pants get ironed before heading to the office. Heck, I'm lucky if they're clean. I don't have kids. I eat craploads of candy. I wear socks with little smiling turtles on them.* I don't always act my age or dress my age ... but, then again, how is my age supposed to act and dress?

Wow. All of a sudden I feel really rusty. I'm now two years shy of the big three-o. Twenty eight. The big 2-8. It hadn't really bothered me until now. Maybe I come across younger because I think I am younger. I mean, J had to remind last week how old I was going to be because I couldn't remember. It's as if I hit 25 and have just forgotten the rest of the numbers. Boy, 25 sure was my favorite age -- old enough to have it all and young enough to get away with anything.

It's not like I mind being older or dread getting older. It's just startling to hear it out loud. Twenty-eight. Eh, I guess it doesn't sound that horrible. But maybe it's time to throw out those turtle socks ...


*In my defense, I only wear them when I know they can't be seen, like with boots or pjs.

A Whiff of Unemployment

"A lot of fellows nowadays have a B.A., M.D., or Ph.D. Unfortunately, they don't have a J.O.B." ~ 'Fats' Domino

This morning I received a "corporate letter" e-mail from the President and CEO of the food & beverage company I work for, announcing a realignment and semi-massive layoff. In an attempt to "streamline our business," the company will potentially be sending nearly 300 packing at my office.

Our building will be closed Thursday and, instead of working, we're all supposed to meet one-on-one with designated managers to find out if we've been canned. We are to receive notices today with explicit instructions on what time our individual appointment is, where to park, and where to vomit as we exit the building. I really hope the mail guy is wearing a jock strap.

I can't believe it really. Sure, the economy majorly sucks right now. But I never thought a Fortune 500 company of this magnitude would ever layoff employees at the company's Headquarters. But who am I kidding? Of course we'd be the first to go. The factory workers and sales team bring in the real money. The "fluff" we do at Headquarters doesn't really count for much. I mean, who needs marketing? Eh, screw product innovation and consumer research. And HR? Or even capability & training -- the team I work for -- who needs that crap, right? (And yes, I'm being totally sarcastic here.)

*sigh* I need to get dressed, stop by the office and pick up my Notice. But, instead, I'm sitting here in my pjs with tear-stained cheeks, trying to delay the inevitable. I suppose I could always wait tables at TGI Fridays, wearing my 30 pieces of flair and striped shirt while singing "Happy Birthday" to gramps.

I wonder what the productivity level will be at the office today with the smell of unemployment lingering in the hallways?

Gas Pump Betrayal

“It's better to have beer in hand than gas in tank” ~ Anonymous

Lucky I awoke in a good mood today, otherwise this morning would have really sucked. I have a job where I normally work from home, but occasionally have to go into the office for meetings. Today was one of those days.

After struggling with my hair for what seemed like an eternity (and finally forcing it back into a stubby ponytail), I dressed and headed for the door, sidestepping kitty's fur ball in the hallway. I step outside and realize that my black tweed pants are actually brown. And I'm wearing a black button up shirt and black heels. Hmph.

I get in the car and the low fuel light glares at me. Damn. It takes 30 minutes to get to the office ... meeting starts at 10 o'clock ... and it's 9:20. I floor it to the gas station. I get out, scan my card, and reach for the gas pump to begin filling my car. Next thing I know gas is spraying everywhere. We're talking Old Faithful style. Not sure if it was a faulty pump, user error or just God's way of getting in a good laugh, but four letter words flew from my mouth as gas drenched my pants, splashed over the side of my car and began to form a pool under my back left tire.

I managed to control the pump enough to get five bucks actually in -- and not on -- my car before gas began to spew out of my tank. What the hell? I give up and return the pump to it's holder. I sadly watch as ten bucks drip off my car while paranoia sets in. Is my car going to catch fire when I start it? Am I going to die? A quick call to J assured me I wasn't going to burst into flames, but he said that I needed to tell the store employees.

I run into the gas station store and wait in line to tell Apu what happened. There's a young guy in front of me digging in his pockets for change. Upon closer inspection, I realize he's wearing pjs, an old bathrobe and slippers, and he's purchasing not one but two 24 oz cans of Natural Lite beer. At 9:30 in the morning.

He finally finds enough change, and I tell Apu about the sea of gas I created outside. I can't understand him and I wonder if he even understands me. He walks off and begins shouting. I can't tell if he's shouting because he's panicked, or shouting because he thinks if he talks louder, I'll understand him. Five minutes later he grunts and points to a man outside. I walk outside and tell Apu #2 what happened.

"Pump 15?" he asks.

"Yes, pump 15," I reply.

He begins to laugh and I'm not sure why. We walk over to the Sea of Gas and he shrugs his shoulders.

"Pump 15 is broken," he says.

"Broken? I didn't see a sign," I reply, frustrated.

"No sign, it's broken," he says. So now what? "Don't worry, I clean up with special powder."

"Fine, so I'm not going to burst into flames?" I seriously ask. He laughs again and shakes his head. What a waste. I get into my car and it's now 9:47. Damn. I floor it down the highway, getting high off the gasoline trapped in my clothes and shoes.

As I near the office, I glance to my left to see a black Oldsmobile barrelling down the wrong side of the road. Holy crap. There's a grassy median separating us, and I wonder if he realizes we're not in England and that he should be on my side of the road. I see him swerve around a couple of cars before losing sight of him at my turn.

By the time I circle the building and find a parking spot half a mile from the door, I'm twenty-eight minutes late for my meeting. Sweating, I sit down as quietly as possible. It wasn't long before someone asks, "Does anyone else smell gasoline?"

Perhaps the smell distracted from my mis-matched outfit. Perhaps I'll get a raise because I look (and smell) like a bum. Regardless, tomorrow I'm staying home in my pjs.

Night at the Spastics

"Every burden is a blessing." -- Walt Kelly

Last night, J and I went to our new neighbor's house for dinner. Honestly, we had been dreading it all week. While we've enjoyed talking to them the few times we have since they moved in a few months ago, their two kids are a whirlwind of spastic energy. Well, one is spastic, the other quite adorable.

They've come over a few times (unannounced) to play with our dogs. Which is great because our dogs love new people and every ounce of attention they can steal. But five minutes with these kids feels like five hours, and you're left wondering why the whole "kids should be seen and not heard" theory was laid to rest. Seriously.

If there was a contest for "How many questions can you ask in one minute?", Spastic would be world champion. And he's 7, so you can imagine the types of questions he asks as he's doing laps around our coffee table: Why do your dogs bark? Why is your cat black? Why won't he play with me? Why do you wear shoes inside? Why do I have feet?

I digress.

We were due at the neighbor's promptly at 5 o'clock. At 4:59 I pulled a pouting J away from the Dallas Cowboys game ("Why would they have us over during a Cowboys game? It's un-American!") and we slowly walked the 15 steps from our front door to theirs. We took a deep breath, plastered on smiles and rang the door bell.

Silence. "Are you sure they wanted us to come over?" pouted J. I shot him the shut-the-hell-up-and-be-a-good-sport-cause-we're-in-this-together look. Then we heard squealing, a running of feet, and the wooden door flew open.

"YOU'RE HEEEEERRRREEEEEE!" shouted Spastic as he grabbed my hand and jerked me inside. "Why are you late? Where have you been? What have you been doing?" he asked, pulling me down the hallway. I looked back down the hall at J, who was still standing in the door way, just as he was attacked with hugs by Miss Adorable. Lucky him, I thought.

Mr & Mrs Spastic greeted us in the kitchen, where they were busy making salad and setting the table. We exchanged small talk as I helped chop carrots while trying to ignore Spastic's plea to use the big kitchen knife. He began to throw a fit, crying and grabbing for the knife so Mrs Spastic let him peel cucumbers. Then the salad was done, but the lasagna was still 30 minutes from being done. Damn.

"LET'S PLAY A GAME!" screamed Spastic. We followed the kids upstairs only to notice Mr and Mrs Spastic stayed downstairs to keep an eye on the food. Double damn. I felt a little betrayed as I thought maybe we were only here to keep their kids entertained.

We got a tour of each of their rooms -- Spastic's decorated in horses and seashells, Miss Adorable's in hot pink and flowers -- and then sat down to play Trouble. I couldn't remember the rules, but it didn't matter as Spastic changed them every two seconds. I usually enjoy playing with kids but my head was throbbing and my heart felt for J who was crouched on the floor amongst dollhouses and board games, trying to forget about his precious Cowboys.

Finally, the magic words "Dinner's ready!" floated up the stairs, and we all raced down, the kids arguing about who they would get to sit next to. Ten minutes and several tears later, everyone was in their seats.

"Who wants to say the blessing?" asked Mr Spastic. I quickly adverted eye contact like a child in school who doesn't want to be called on. Not that I have anything against a dinner prayer, it's just not something I grew up doing, not something I currently do, and not something I want to try for the first time in a strangers home not knowing what religion they are.

"I WANT THE GUESTS TO DO IT!" shouted Spastic. Luckily Mr Spastic sensed the delayed response and volunteered one of the kids. Ten minutes and several tears later, Miss Adorable said blessing to the prophets, and we all laughed when she forgot to bless the food.

Dinner turned out great. Mr and Mrs Spastic are actually pretty laid back. We talked about their old home back in California, how the kids were adjusting, our jobs, life in general. When not interrupted by Spastic, it was quite enjoyable. Miss Adorable -- who's 4 -- told us stories and was just precious. Not one to usually gush over kids, I wondered if she would fit in my purse so I could keep her for my own.

After dinner we got roped into watching cartoons with the kiddos. Ten minutes and several tears later, we were all piled on the couch upstairs watching cartoons. After a few corny episodes, Mr and Mrs Spastic told the kids to stay upstairs while we went downstairs to talk. Over pumpkin chocolate cookies, they began to tell us that Spastic actually had several mental development problems, severe ADHD and were worried that it was getting progressively worse.

My heart sank for them as Mrs Spastic told how Spastic awoke every night and was up for three or four hours at a time. How he can't be alone ever. How he has no sense of space. Worried that his self-centeredness and fits would eventually lead to him getting in trouble in school and keep him from making friends. They're trying to find a psychiatrist as they're at the end of their ropes and no longer know what to do. They were tired and frustrated.

I felt a little guilty for my feelings towards the kid, but I could only imagine being his parent and feeling some of the same emotions. It wasn't long before Spastic came downstairs and began to throw a fit. And. Would. Not. Stop. He was tired, he wanted us to come upstairs, he wanted a cookie, he wanted his mom to hold him, he wanted to go to bed, he wanted to stay with us because he was scared, he didn't want to stop crying.

Defeated, Mrs Spastic thanked us for coming and went upstairs to get them ready for bed. J and I stayed a little longer talking to Mr Spastic. It's hard enough to be a parent, but it's even harder to raise one child that doesn't understand time and rules and who is too paranoid and too immature to be remotely independent, and then one child who is completely adorable and well-mannered. Sometimes I think it's easy to take children and parenting for granted, to establish a delicate balance between the two worlds so one isn't left behind and one isn't propelled too far forward.

J and I left last night with a full belly, new friends and a better understanding of what it truly takes to be a parent -- lots of Advil, courage and unconditional love. Because sometimes, even blessings can be challenges.

Finding Purpose

"One needs something to believe in, something for which one can have whole-hearted enthusiasm. One needs to feel that one's life has meaning, that one is needed in this world." ~ Hannah Senesh


To finish my thoughts from last weekend on life, loss and finding purpose, the drive back from the funeral last Friday was a long and quiet one as I tried to turn over every rock of life in my head.

I slept little, clutching J tightly in an effort to find comfort. I had a charity 5k for a friend of mine Saturday morning. I awoke before the sun, drove an hour and a half to Fort Worth, and began to realize life's full potential.

I arrived at the walk early so I u-turned and stopped by a Starbucks I had seen along the way. I usually will not go anywhere in public wearing cotton stretch pants but decided life was too short to worry about it. Eight dollars later I was back on the road and parked at the walk.

I called a few of my teammates to see if anyone else had yet arrived. I decided not to cower in the parking lot and walked by myself down the road to the registration tents and starting line. There I ran into an old friend of mine Panda, who I hadn't seen since her horrific car accident two years prior. I can't believe I hadn't made the effort to see how she'd been since then. We talked until our other teammates arrived, all of which I either knew -- or should have known -- in high school and have kept in touch with over the years.

Our team captain was our inspiration. Last year the bouncy blonde was diagnosed with kidney disease and, since the medications aren't working, it looks as if she'll need a kidney transplant in the very near future. We're hoping her younger sister's a match. It was so great to see her. She looked well but tired, and genuinely happy that we were all there to be with her. At the end of the day, her biggest fear isn't her failing kidney -- it's the thought of not being able to have another child. But she smiles through it, knowing that whatever's supposed to happen will.

As I stood amongst our team, catching up with old friends, and as I stood amongst the other participants, all running for their inspirations in the fight against kidney disease, I felt something wash over me. As I looked around, I realized that this was the feeling I've been missing. The need and want to help people. To be there for people. To connect deeply with people. To be needed by people.

I have a bad habit of putting things off, of breaking commitments -- whether to myself or others. Here I've been worried about not accomplishing my dreams in life when all I've really been doing is wasting time. Thinking instead of reacting. Shying away from situations that may be a little uncomfortable when it could be an opportunity to connect with someone or something. Sure, it seems like the same old "live life to the fullest" crap -- but it's the feeling that's different.

After the walk we all went to lunch and sat for two hours chatting, laughing, sharing. We talked about plans for the annual Christmas party that Curly throws at his lake house -- which I've always had an excuse out of because I couldn't find the perfect dress to wear or because I wasn't in the mood to mingle. Not this year. This year I'll be there with bells on. It'll be me in the photos slinging back martinis and dancing with the Christmas tree.

I sat there listening to everyone, realizing how much we've grown since high school years ago -- but also realizing how much we're still the same. It made me think about who else in my life I enjoy having around but have lost contact with. I'm horrible with returning phone calls, so the list grew larger in my mind.

When it was time to go, I was so internally happy. Happy that we were all able to support our team captain and old friend. Happy that our small team was able to raise $1,400 to support the National Kidney Foundation. Happy that I was able to spend time with everyone and reconnect. Happy that I didn't waste another Saturday morning just sleeping.

I checked the mail when I got home and I had received another purple and white brochure from Team In Training, supporting the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. I've wanted to complete a marathon with them since college, but had always found an excuse away from it. I checked the box for an informational meeting and set it with the stack of bills to be mailed.

I awoke early Sunday morning, which is a huge feat for me to awaken before 10 any day of the week. But imagine how much more I could accomplish in my day if I got up two or three hours earlier? I poked sleeping J in the stomach and uttered music to his ears: "Take me fishing." He was up in a flash and we stopped by Taco Cabana for a breakfast burrito, hooked up the boat and headed to Lake Grapevine. We each caught three bass, and it felt so great to be on the lake again. During our move over the summer we didn't get too many chances to fish, so it was great to get back out there and soak up nature. And we needed a little "couples therapy."

My attitude all week has been different. I've gotten up early each day (it's actually not as painful as I thought it would be), accomplished several things around the house I've been putting off, got caught up at work, had lunch with an old neighbor, stopped sweating (most) of the small stuff like J leaving his boots in the living room, and actually stopped to talk to a few of the neighbors instead of ducking into my garage like I normally do. And it's been great.

I know I've rambled on in this post, so if you've made it this far then kudos. It's hard to put what I'm feeling into actual words without the true meaning getting lost, but I had to try -- hence the reason this post comes a little late. I urge everyone to think about something in their life that has become habit -- like me sleeping in every morning or truly giving yourself to others -- and change it. There's no telling what you will accomplish, how the feeling of being needed will strike you, what higher purpose your moments on this earth will serve.

Life & Loss

"Death is a challenge. It tells us not to waste time ... It tells us to tell each other right now that we love each other." ~ Leo F. Buscaqlia

This weekend has already been a doozy, and it's not even over yet. Friday, hubby -- who will be called "J" from here on -- and I went to a funeral for his great aunt, who was one of the nicest women I've ever met.

I've been to many funerals, but nothing compares to a small-town funeral. Sitting amongst 150 of her closest friends and family in an outdoor tabernacle in the middle of a green pasture, we listened to story after story of how this courageous 68-year-old woman overcame depression, a life-threatening car accident and brain cancer to make a lasting impact on her church, her family, coworkers, on everyone.

I watched as one of her sons sat quietly with his wife and two children, softly dabbing his eyes with tissue, trying to make it through the service knowing that he hadn't been there when she died. My heart broke for her husband, now suddenly alone after 53 years of marriage. 53 years. I can't begin to fathom the heartache he must be enduring.

J and I held each other, listening to the memories, bowing our heads in prayer. A breeze whispered through the big oak trees, the cows sang their own sympathies, and the butterflies danced around the dozens of colorful flower arrangements that had been sent from friends and family, the local diners, nearly every resident in the town.

After the service, we all met inside the small church to sit and talk about old times, while the ladies of the church prepared lunch -- fried chicken, green beans, homemade biscuits and pies -- for all 150 of us. Packed into a small room, we all sat elbow-to-elbow, and there wasn't a stranger in the place by the time we left hours later.

Sometimes I think we get so caught up in rushing around, that it was nice to actually slow down for awhile, allowing time to contemplate life and loss. When my Granddad died last Christmas, his service was crammed into a thirty minute window at the military cemetery near my home. It wasn't our choice, just how the place handled services. As we left, another family was rushing in to bury their young son who had been killed in Iraq -- it just didn't seem right.

I had more time to think this time. As we left J's great aunt's funeral, I was bombarded with a series of internal questions. What would people say at my funeral? Have I lived my life to the fullest? Am I wasting time? What impact have I made on others? What higher purpose can I serve?

I began to discover a few of those answers Saturday morning ...

Hopes of (non)Perfection

There's a saying that I run across from time-to-time that says, "If you want something done, ask a busy person.” Sometimes when I hear this I can't help but chuckle to myself. Lately, it seems like I have too much on my plate to handle anything else. But then there are days where I have nothing to do -- and couldn't imagine taking anything on because I like enjoying my downtime.

I have come to realize that I'm one of those who, when faced with a full plate, push it all away and sit like a four year old who refuses to touch their peas. Instead of attempting to accomplish as much as I can to the best of my ability, I sit there, arms crossed, pouting. If I can't do it all and do it all perfectly, then I want nothing to do with it. If I can't make a decision knowing that it's exactly what I want, I'd rather not make one at all.

It's a horrible downfall, but I can't say I wasn't warned. My mother, who bestowed this tid-bit on me awhile back, said that my fourth grade teacher had warned her it could happen. How I was such a perfectionist that, while it labeled me "gifted and talented" in grade school, would one day lead to my demise if I didn't learn that not everything had to be perfect. I spent too much time worrying about if one thing was done perfectly than trying to accomplish more and do it well.

She actually told my mother I would learn the hard lesson for myself in college. She was right.

And now, I'm trying to retrain my way of thinking. I have to. And it's HARD. My rationale disrupts my work day, plays a role in delaying decisions and keeps my mind in disarray. It's the reason I still have a huge box of photos that haven't made it into scrapbooks, why my walls in the house are still white, why I've been searching for weeks for a new pair of brown heels.

And I am by no means saying that I'm perfect. Believe me, I’m not. More like I think things must be perfect, that I must make the perfect decisions -- otherwise I'd rather just not do anything. Maybe it's a fear of failing (but I've been there) or just a fear of someone not liking what I put my heart and soul into.

Sometimes I feel like a Pollock painting -- perfectly chaotic ...

Work. Life. Balance?

"We need to maintain a proper balance in our life by allocating the time we have. There are occasions where saying no is the best time management practice there is." -- Catherine Pulsifer

There's something amiss in a world where eating breakfast at your desk has become the norm. A norm established by longer work hours, less time spent with the husband, baby, puppy each morning. Will eating dinner at the office establish itself as well?

Companies already have started a trend by stashing free drinks, snacks and soups in break rooms, pushing the envelope when the clock ticks to 5. Just one more phone call, draft one more e-mail, consume one more hour. 5 turns to 6. Family dinner's pushed to 7. Or, you simply get a warm plate of scraps in the microwave after dark, left to eat alone, listening to the children get ready for bedtime. A kiss on the forehead for each, one for the spouse and off to bed. Tuck in, roll over, and it's time to do it all over again.

Work creeps into weekends too. Just a Saturday morning, they say. "We'll buy your lunch." Does free lunch really do it justice? Does it make up for missing a trip to the donut shop, helping in the yard, taking your boy to soccer practice?

I'm not a parent, but someday I will be. Someday I'll want work to stay at work, and for all of me to come home and enjoy my family. And I'll want the same for my husband. No begging for a day off to see an ailing grandparent. No skipping lunch with mom because a deadline is looming overhead.

Just work. Life. Separate.

A Welcome of Sorts

"A smile is the universal welcome." - Max Eastman

Well, if you're reading this, then you must have stumbled onto my blog. Welcome. Not sure really what you'll find here, but I'm guessing a lot about nothing. Oh sure, I have brilliant revelations from time to time that would make Jesus blush. But, for the most part, my life is pretty ordinary.

Which is why I'm trying to do something new everyday. I find it humorous and sometimes embarrassing, but in the end I always learn something new. Or discover something I enjoy even more than my trusty ol' favorites. (But NEVER will I find anything better than my fav pair of jeans ... even if they do have more holes than Swiss cheese.)

For today, I tried the chocolate shake at Which Wich. A minor feat, but if you only knew how loyal I am to Sonic's hot fudge milkshake, then you would give me a high five or a slap on the bum for branching out in the milkshake world. Anyhoo, it was cold, creamy and kind of made my belly hurt. Ohwell.

Until next time ...

UPDATE (9/10): You may notice a few posts dated before this official "welcome". Well, I moved a few entries over today that I had posted on another site because life is complicated enough without having to keep up with two blogs. I also kept them posted on the original dates, just to make my life easier. I like to keep it simple -- so enjoy!