my mood meter is whack...

i feel like a schizophrenic this week. 

snarfy

melancholy

provocative

keeping up with where i fall on the mood meter at any given time is a challenge.  i am up and down, left and right, forwards and backwards, right side up and upside down.  i have troubles deciphering where i am at sometimes.  to quote one of my most favorite people, a woman who happens to share my same name i am a hot mess! 

snarfy isn't a real word.  merriam & webster do not recognize it, but the urban dictionary does.  according to the urban dictionary it means; rude, to snap at someone.  yep, i have been snarfy this week.  i have blown people off, not responded to messages, been impatient, curt, unreasonably difficult.  all because i feel like it.  i have no good reason for my behavior and i don't necessarily think it's horribly inappropriate.  we all have deplorable behavior, some admittedly more than others, but we all have it.  i can tell you that this week my snarfiness stems from the second word on my list melancholy.

i am six days into a week without my kids.  i hate it.  everyday i miss the noise, the chaos, the arms that slip around my waist for a spontaneous hug.  i miss the bickering, hearing mom 3,500 times a day, the complaints about dinner, and the plea to snuggle just a little bit longer.  at this point in my life my kids are everything.  the herd of elephants isn't charging around, the sweet voices reading to each other are silent, my hands aren't grasping another they are left empty and cold.  oh, i miss my babies.  i simply can't imagine my world without them.  maybe if i had a beau my mood when my kids are gone wouldn't be so drastic and the third word on my list wouldn't be shouting at me so loudly.

yesterday i wrote about sex.  this is not a topic that i regularly talk about.  not that it isn't on my mind.  i just choose to share other things.  however, the trek across the arid desert seems to be getting longer.  the littlest things have turned me on lately.  without divulging too much, the problem and solution is simple. i need and want some lovin'.  i would prefer my lovin' often and with the same fella, but perhaps a spontaneous trip to coos bay for a weekend of unabashed passion will suffice.

although happy, joyful, hopeful, excited, or elation did not make my list up above i have had moments of all these emotions.  there are a handful of benefits to a week off from being mom.  one of my favorites is that i get to go to bethy's every morning and have coffee.  i had date night with duedue, we went to dinner, had a cocktail, went to the movies and then tooled around fred meyer's trying on silly hats.  i got to play darts with a new friend.  my house stays clean.  i'm going to ana's for my annual game of spoons.  i can talk on the phone.

if only my schizo moments were limited to kid free weeks.  my life would be less dramatic, but what would i write about?

i'm taking a lover...

i am a huge fan of the show Sex in the City.  i actually wish it was still in production, so i could continue to watch it.  the characters were great, the premise was fun, and it was sheer entertainment.  i remember telling a guy friend when i was watching this series, maybe i should chuck all my morals and screw around?  my guy friend totally concured with this idea. no surprise there.

i am not in the business of seeing how many marks i can carve into my bedpost, but i will admit that having a standard is rather lonely.  i wake up alone and go to bed alone.  hit repeat a thousand times and start over.  i am in the driest desert with no oasis in sight.

casual sex is something i have never been able to wrap my head around.  i think that this might be something that is harder for women, since a good majority of us include our feelings when sharing our bodies.  you can probably exclude prostitutes and porn stars from this statement.  i have never been a prositute or a porn star so i don't really know how they view sex, but i'm guessing it is different than mine.

i had a discussion about this with my friend joe once.  his thought is everyone needs a genital handshake now and then.  after i choked, cleared my throat, and regained my composure i laughed until my sides hurt.  my laughter was met with a blank stare.  obviously we have a different view, but in a way there is some validity to this.

joe's thought reminds of having a friend with benefits.  yes i did just watch the movie, predictable but kept my attention.  it may have been the repeated scenes of a half dressed justin timberlake.  or maybe the oscar winning performances?  oh who am i kidding?  of course it was justin timberlake.  anyway, this idea is somewhat intriguing and hollywood definitely makes it look appealing, but i have learned that real life rarely imitates the big screen.

i do have a guy friend that i wouldn't mind having some benefits with.  without revealing his identity (he will know it's him if he reads this), i will give you some stats; funny as hell, sexy, smart, and has beautiful teeth.  the problem.  he has a lady in his life.  i would never interfere with that, but if he didn't have a lady you can bet your sweet bippy i would be the first in line.

so what's a moral gal like me to do?  i could never be a samantha.  having sex as a "hobby" isn't part of my plans.  i don't think i could ever be a nun.  swearing off men sounds like death, besides the convent wouldn't want me.  i guess i fall somewhere in the middle on the spectrum, lonely single girl with extra batteries.  insert wink.

slacker extraordinaire...

we are approaching the end of another year.  although i am not a resolution maker, i did not accomplish any of the things i had said i might want to try.  hmmpf.  maybe this is why my invitation to the slacker extraordinaire club arrived in the mail?   i didn't cook everything out of a particular cookbook, but i did start cooking a whole lot more this past year.  thanks to some incredibly delicious and easy recipes that i found on pinterest.  i never mastered meditating, and to be truthful my attempts weren't consistent or frequent.  i suppose it just wasn't really the time to try. 

i had listed many things; read more, be more spontaneous, drink more water, eat more vegetables, be a better friend, teach my son how to tie his shoes, encourage my kids to grow by slowing down and letting them make mistakes and i liked someones resolution to paint their toes more. how did i do; fail, fail, fail, fail, fail, succeeded, partial fail.  the invitation included my nomination for president.

i have come up with many excuses for not completing, accomplishing, and doing what i had said i wanted.  for instance, drink more water.  if you can count the water that is used to brew coffee then i might have succeeded.  my coffee intake has increased this past year.  there is a simple explanation for this.  i am exhausted!   i can hear the fitness fanatics in my life shouting at me exercise you fool!  i have the time, in the morning before my house turns into a tornado, but i don't have the will power, accountability, or the drive to do it on my own.  sigh.

here is what i am thinking.  this isn't earth shattering.  it isn't even revolutionary or profound.  it just is.  i think the key for me to be able to do more of the things that i desire to do is to be more spontaneous. 

SPONTANEOUS

1: proceeding from natural feeling or native tendency without external constraint

2: arising from a momentary impulse

3: controlled and directed internally : self-acting

compliments of Merriam-Webster

spontaneity is really, really hard for me to do.  i find peace in predictability.  the problem with predictability is that it is static, stagnant, conventional.  my good friend keri says this conventional = boring.  deep sigh.  i am boring.  even bigger sigh.  i don't want to be boring. 

my motto for 2012 is going to be; BE MORE SPONTANEOUS.  just for the record this is not a resolution.  i am not really sure how i will accomplish increased spontaneity.  i might have to remind myself by plastering signs in all my most frequented places.  or maybe i should record myself stating my new motto and play it while i am sleeping?  do subliminal messages really work?  who knows, i've never tried.

for now i am going to hold on to my invitation.  maybe post it to my refrigerator next to the sign that says be more spontaneous flo.  hopefully by this time next year i will get to recycle it instead of filling it out. 

peyton

Peyton is ten years old today.  when you are kid reaching that two digit age is so huge.  the next big milestone will be teenager-hood.  i am definitely not ready for that and want to savor the next three years.  in honor of my daugther i would like to write her a little note.

sis,

today is your birthday.  you are 10!  i can't believe that you are already 10, where did the time go?

you came into this world a week late with a head full of dark curly hair, the smallest mouth i have ever seen, perfect toes, perfect fingers and a voice bigger than your whole self.  you were so small, long, but small.  when i held you for the first time our hearts connected and i haven't let go.

for the first twenty months of your life it was just you and me.  i would spend all day holding you.  i just wanted to watch you, hold you, play with you, make you giggle, rock you to sleep, and soothe you when you cried.  there are days i wish you were still that small so i could just hold you.

guiding you from infancy, through toddlerhood, and to the young woman you are today has been trying, rewarding, exciting, and exhausting, but by far the most exciting adventure.  there is still so much to teach you, but the truth is you are teaching me.  you are continually teaching me to speak my mind, be in the moment and be a strong woman.

one day sis you will leave my home and create a life for yourself.  i can't wait to see the amazing things you will do.  your drive, stubborness, fearlessness, and precociousness will be the driving force behind whatever you do.  all i have to say is watch out world.

i am so very proud to be your mother. 

happy birthday beauty. 
i love you
mom

12:10 AM sign....

signs are everywhere.  how do you know which ones to pay attention to? 

when you are driving, there are road signs that help you stay safe on the road.  speed limits, depending on the color of speed sign it is either a recommended or actual safe speed for the road.  you guessed it, i typically drive the speed limit, maybe a little over, but never below.  stop signs, this isn't a suggestion you must stop and pay attention.  caution. warning.  hazard.  deer, bear or complete idiot crossings.  the road people try to help you out if you choose not to pay attention to these signs blame your own stupidity for failure.  directional signs. one ways.  gas stations on the left.  food on the right.   or helpful signs like the next rest stop is 822 miles away can you really hold it that long?  you should definitely pay attention to road signs when driving.

this isn't really the sign i am thinking of right now.

12:10 am is a ghastly hour.  i don't know why anyone would choose to be up at this hour.  i did not choose to be awake, i just couldn't turn off my head.  i know i have recounted the story of when i turned 13 and cried for months on end about getting older.  it's a good thing i pulled it together my mom was ready to admit me to a "special hotel" with padded rooms for an extended stay.  not being able to turn off my head is deeply seeded. sigh.

i tried reading, which usually works, but not this time.  i tried writing the whirlpool of thoughts in my head, but that just got me all wound up and agitated.  i turned to my computer thinking the obnoxious blue light would exhaust my eyes enough that they would seal themselves closed and forget what my brain was instructing them to do.  in theory this seemed like a good plan, but something caught my eye...

Aries Love Match

Lively and adventurous, Aries seeks a partner who can keep up but also stand by her side when the time comes. You're extremely compatible with spontaneous Sagittarius, who will support you to no end. The zodiacal match ensures a high-spirited romance filled with laughter and excitement. Fun-loving and forward-thinking Aquarius is also an ideal mate.

generally speaking i don't place much merit on astrology, however it is interesting.  the reason why this caught my eye is because i have recently starting speaking with a sagittarius.  as you know i give everyone a code name for a couple of reasons; protect one's privacy, gives me a way to talk of them in front of my kids with bethy without my kids knowing who i am talking about, and mostly because i like it.  so new code name, sag, not ultra creative but it works.

sag is intriguing.  initial attraction...a giant smile showing a full set of teeth, just like me.  sag prefers a telephone conversation as opposed to a text or email even if it just with my voicemail.  i didn't answer the first time he called, i didn't know who it was, but listening to the message left me in giggles and a smile on my face.  i have a thing about voices and sag's voice is deep, kind of raspy but very pleasant to listen to.  sag uses words that would be considered obscure in our modern english language, no surprise that i love that.  sag has a big hearty laugh, just like me.  yes, sag is intriguing.

without placing too much value on an astrological suggestion geared at every aries in the world, should i pay attention to this?  i think that there are signs all around us, but we lack the imagination to notice them.  how do you know which ones to value and which ones to disregard?  what if you miss a sign that was intended for you because you hyper focused on something you were trying to make work?

obviously i don't have the answers, a premonition, or a crystal ball.  the best i can do is continue trudging down a path with open eyes and an accepting heart.

spinning plates...

i have too many thoughts swirling through my head.  one way i know to try and make sense of what i am worrying, or thinking, or fretting about is to write it down.  being able to see my thoughts written out somehow makes them easier for me to understand.  a black and white statement of exactly how i am interrupting my thoughts.  the only time they go gray is if i stare at those black and white words too long, then they get all fuzzy.  in an attempt to make sense out of my thoughts, here we go.

so what's the problem this time flo?  i am exhausted.  i constantly and consistently live with unpredictability and irrational decisions, not necessarily from me.  this wishy-washy, however the wind is blowing for the day, way of proceeding through life leaves me scrambling for the best solution and wondering how am i ever going to be able to move forward?   i am having moments of clarity and strength followed quickly by moments of weakness and doubt.  i know logically and rationally how i need to handle these situations but i find it hard to set clear boundaries.  i am still soft.

sometimes i think my best option is just to focus on my kids, my job, my family and friends.  forget the rest, it is just too complicated.  seems like when i start trying to add another plate i mess the precarious balance of plates.  you know those bowl or plate twirlers at the circus?  i have this perfectly balanced load and then i try to add another plate and topsy turvy it all crashes around me.  i'm just not cut out for all this unpredictability and turmoil.

what is an over active, over thinking, over analyzing gal to do?  stop thinking would be the best option.  stop analyzing would be another good option.  all of which i cannot do, even if i try really hard i lack the skills to stop thinking. ugh.  i guess this leaves me with one option, balance the plates that i have and carefully add another.  i suppose if it all crumbles it just wasn't the right plate or the right time. 

hecklers...

i am coming up on my one year anniversary of tapping out my thoughts for anyone to read.  it is kind of  scary to let whomever into my head, but it doesn't seem to stop me.  well it stops me a little, there are many many thoughts that don't get "published".  i've got to have something that is just mine.

first i must admit, i never expected anyone to want to read my thoughts, this is simply my release.  i am not that interesting.  i consider myself to be your average girl next door with a couple of quirky characteristics.  i am a very routine oriented person who basically lives the same day over and over again.  occasionally i run into a snag that gives me "material" to write about. 

writing is actually quite hard, there are lots of things i think about.

1.  how to best convey my message in a coherent and cohesive way?  this is actually really hard for me.  i tend to be very scattered in my thought process.  i remind myself of a person with ADD in regards to my thoughts.  i jump from topic to topic and back again with no rhyme or reason.  when i am actually tapping out a post i cut and paste and cut and paste several times, rearranging things so that it flows or "flo-s".  haha...there is my randomness at it's best.

2.  am i offending anyone?  i don't really pay too much attention to this because i think i make it very clear i am speaking from my own experiences.  i do not claim to be an expert in any field, except for maybe being me and even then i struggle with that.  i have never said i know the answers or the right ways to go about things.  i simply share how i am feeling about a certain thing whether or not it is justified or warranted.

3.  am i ready to defend my position?  sometimes the answer  is NO and then it doesn't get published.  so yes, whatever i actually publish i am ready to defend.  my reasoning may be the most whackadoo, irrational, cockamamie position ever, but i wholeheartedly stand behind it.  i am not afraid to look like an idiot, unless of course you are talking about singing in front of an audience and then i am terrified.

4.  have i checked my grammar?  my spelling?  yes. i do this repeatedly.  i use my spell check.  i also preview my post in a pop-up page as it would appear for others to read.  however i still miss stuff and that drives me bananas!  when i find errors even in old posts i go back and fix them.  you might find it funny to know that when i am typing i say each word out loud.  so how do i miss whole words or add ones that shouldn't be?  i don't know, i am not perfect is my only reasonable answer.

last but not least...

5.  the hecklers.  this is my audience.  there are people who read my blog religiously.  i know this because they tell me.  i can honestly say that i start a new topic everyday, but i don't always finish one everyday.  i work.  i have kids.  i have a life outside of my blog.  there are times when i don't post anything for days on end.  this is where the hecklers heckle through emails or texts "um did you forget about your blog?"  no.  i'm just not done.

at the expense of sounding cocky, which those of you who know me a little or a lot know that is totally not my personality, i might be at the high end of mediocre with this writing bit.  i am too scattered to put together more than just a few paragraphs about a specific topic, but i really do love the opportunity to express myself.  as long as i have a thought to expand on, a minor mishap to share, a man to swoon over, a fantasy to divulge, a broken heart to nurse, or just a good rant i will keep writing.

sasquatch...

phantom pains. 

The ability to feel sensations and pain in a limb or limbs that no longer exist.

compliments of Encyclopedia Brittanica

i have all my limbs, digits and organs, but my presence has been severed.  not sure if anyone else knows what i am talking about, but i will do my best to explain.

there are times in one's life where the stars seemed to be aligned.  or maybe you call it, the universe is in order.  or maybe you think, it is my time.  or maybe you believe in God and think He brought you another human to connect with. whatever you call it, i wonder if you have met someone that you just connect with, can't imagine your daily life without them and then life changes and they are gone?

this has happened to me several times.  with both men and women.  i am not sure why we connect better with certain people, but for me there are simply people who speak my language.  they get me and  i get them.  i look forward to interacting with them, hearing about their day, sharing mine.  i truly cherish that time i spend with them. 

being a single gal i tend to have single guy friends.  guy friends that i don't have an intimate relationship with, there are a couple i secretly would like to have an intimate relationship, but don't.  i'm just not that kind of girl.  anyway, there is one in particular where life has changed our friendship. 

a little history, without a name, because that just isn't fair, but if he reads this he will know.  i "met" him in september of this year.  we instantly clicked.  the conversation was always easy, goofy, sometimes flirty, intoxicating.  but we live 5 hours apart, there was never an intention to date, or even try to date, we just connected.  our friendship quickly turned to pet names.  we talked daily comparing dating stories, the weather, what we had for dinner, etc.  i think you get the idea, we just clicked. 

i knew and he knew, that one of us was going to start dating someone who lived in our area.  i knew it would be him first my schedule isn't as flexible as his.  nevertheless, i was kind of dreading the day i would get the text  i met someone.   not because i wanted it to be me, but because the rules change.  there are now lines that you don't cross. a respectful distance that you keep.  this was something we had actually talked about, but i don't think you really know how different it will be until you are there.

i got the text.  i was instantly sad and happy all at the same time.  i am extremely happy for him.  he is a genuine soul.  the woman he shares that with is truly blessed.  i hope she knows that.  i am selfishly sad for my loss. our last exchange was a promise to stay in touch, but we haven't.  deep down i knew we wouldn't and that is the part that saddens me. 

in one fell swoop i was severed with no hope of being reattached.  maybe somewhere down the road our paths will cross again?  i know better than to count on that, but there are times in the cover of darkness i wonder how he is doing? 

goodbye sasquatch.

flo

R.O.U.S.

i have an unwanted guest.  i haven't actually seen my guest but i know he's there. he leaves me presents.  not the kind you would want to open.  i am only guessing it is a "he", actually i am praying my guest is a he.  before i tell you who my guest is, i should start with how i got my guest.

it is that time of year where i rearrange my small living room to accommodate a tree.  i actually really enjoy having a tree in my house.  they smell good.  when they are all lit up i can leave the rest of the lights off and enjoy the ambiance.  i admire the ornaments i have and reminisce.  yes i love having a Christmas tree. 

we were in the second week of december and i still hadn't gotten a tree.  i couldn't even seem to find a day on my calendar that had an extra hour to go search for one.  last year the kids and i cut our tree down, and we had planned on doing that again, but single motherhood plus busy schedules complicated our plans. 

this year, i agreed to host Christmas morning, which is my sis, my mom the kids and myself.  since mom wasn't going to host, she decided to not even decorate. i've got to admit that i am kind of bummed my mom isn't decorating, there is something about going to your parents house and seeing all the holiday stuff from your childhood that i just love.  this turn of events did present an artificial tree not in use, my moms. 

the tree has been living in mom's barn for the last year, but i didn't think anything of it there is tons of storage in the barn.  mom helps me load the tree into the back of my car and off we go.  the kids help drag this enormous monstrosity into our living room.  around the same time my ex shows up to get the kids, he generously asks if i want help.  i tell him no but he starts anyway.  i open the box and gasp! a critter has been living in the tree box.  my ex picks up the tree and droppings start falling out of the tree.  "Get it out! Get it out!" i shriek at him.  he takes it outside and shakes it free of rodent presents.  i tell him, "i don't want that box here."  he puts in the back of his truck and takes it with him.

i call my mom to tell her all about our adventure with the tree.  she gets a good giggle out of it.  i think this is where my story ends.  i am SO wrong.

the next morning i go to warm up my car.  when i open my door there are rodent prezzies on the floor mat of my front seat.  WTF?!?  i look at the passenger side...there is more there!  i look in the back seat..yep you guessed it more prezzies!  OH MY WORD, IT IS IN MY CAR!!  now some of you may have closed the door and your life would have ceased.  maybe you would have called an exterminator?  maybe you would have sent your vehicle to a detail shop and got a rental?  well seeing as how i am a po divoced woman none of these are really options for me.  so i went back inside grabbed my giant, from costco, container of clorox wipes and wiped down every hard surface, shook out the rugs and called it good for now.  "come on kids, we're late for school." 

i dropped the kids off at school swearing them to secrecy about our stow away.  for some reason the idea of having a rodent, at this point i am not sure if it a rat or a mouse, but i am leaning towards rat because his prezzies are rather large, was ultra embarrassing.  for those of you who know where i live, it is kind of ghetto, especially if you knew where i used to live.  i drove to work peering over my shoulder expecting to see my guest with a giant grin on his face and a speech bubble saying, "ooh a car ride.  where are we going?" 

after several days of emptying my car, endless vacuuming, constant disinfecting, and arming the front and back with poison, i was still finding prezzies in the morning.  my guest joined our family on a tuesday afternoon.  i death trapped my car with poison on thursday afternoon.  saturday morning i am still finding prezzies.  on saturday afternoon a guy friend came over to set snap traps.  my thought was my guest has been eating poison for a couple of days, yet i still hadn't seen him.  i didn't want him to die wherever he had decided to take residence in my car.

sunday morning.  i am prepared for a critter to be dead in the trap.  i am actually hoping that he is dead in the trap.  what i found i was not prepared for.  i peered in the front passenger seat, this has been where he has been most active, and there he was.  OH MY WORD!!  he is huge.  i open the door and he turns his head to look at me.  as you can guess i am now screaming.  i shut the door and go back inside. 

what happens next may horrify some of you.  i came back to the car armed with latex gloves (thanks to my thoughtful trap setter friend), a plastic grocery bag and my phone so i can take a picture of the culprit.  it looks up at me again while i take his picture, but does not scurry away.  he is very sick.  who wouldn't be after 3 days of eating poison?  i don my gloves and carefully place the bag over him.  i hesitate on what to do next.  since he is still alive i don't want to touch him, he might bite and then i will have rabies or some other horrible rodent disease that might cause me to grow extreme amounts of fur and a tail.  for some reason there is an old checkbook in the passenger door, i grab it and fling him into the bag, dropping the checkbook in too.  i tie the bag up and throw him away. 

i didn't kill him first.  i just couldn't bring myself to whack him on something.  i chose instead death by suffocation.  in fact the bag was breathing  while i was carrying it to the garbage can.  i understand this is a horrible way to die and i do feel bad, but i am not violent and whacking him seemed so harsh.  this was really i could manage.

so my rat tale ends.  i have not found any other prezzies in my car.  i still don't know where it was nesting, but i am really hoping i don't have a troop of baby rats suddenly leaving me prezzies.  i am still cleaning my car every time i get in it.  i am so grossed out!  my rat mobile is still armed with poison just in case. 

the tree is pretty and i am grateful to have it on loan for the holidays.  however, i am thinking i would've rather had the spiders that come with a live tree over the rat that came with the artificial tree.



what do i do with all these nude oranges?

i am not a baker.  baking is a science.  to be an exceptional baker one needs a scale, top notch ingredients, really good tools and patience.  i have a couple of these the scale isn't one of them.  you give me a chicken and i can do just about anything; grill it, roast it, stuff it, and of course eat it.  you ask me to create a masterpiece from flour, butter and eggs and i'm shaking in my slippers.

a good baker uses unsalted butter at room temperature.  i don't ever buy unsalted butter and i don't have the patience to let it come to room temperature.  instead i zap it in the microwave which i am sure changes it's chemical make up somehow.  eggs should be at room temperature, never cold straight from the fridge, and you should crack into a separate bowl first just to make sure the egg is fresh and there are no stray shells. 

don't over mix

don't over bake

plan ahead

sift

measure, measure and measure again

this is all too tedious for me.  when i am in the mood to bake, which usually coincides with my monthly cycle, must be that motherly nesting instinct, i want to do it right then before the mood passes. 

for some silly reason, once a year i agree to participate in a cookie exchange, hosted by one of the moms at my kid's school.  this is not your average cookie exchange.  there are rules...

~ must be homemade.  this is an all out bake-off.  time to bring your A game

~ main ingredient must be flour and butter.  these cookies are not part of any diet. 

~ must make 11 dozen.  1 dozen to share, 10 dozen to exchange

~ must turn in your recipe entry to the hostess by a certain date.  the hostess prints a cookbook of all the entries every year.

there are also prizes to be won.  possibilities to win fall into a few different categories; best display, best tasting, most unique and overall best damn cookie.   i have a slight competitive edge and have always wanted to win the grand champion prize, but i have never even received a special recognition in any category.  this is not a huge surprise i suck at baking.

i typically spend at least a week, sometimes two, searching for the perfect holiday cookie recipe.  i look for something different, something easy, and a batch that makes a lot.  seeing as how i don't have the patience for baking, a batch that makes a lot at one time is right up my alley.

this year i went with an orange creamsicle cookie.  i found the recipe on pinterest, my latest obsession.  citrus in a cookie always seems holiday-ish to me.  i don't particularly care for citrus in my cookies, but this isn't about my taste this about winning.  the ingredient list was simple.  this recipe made 4 dozen cookies in one batch.  this cookie didn't involve rolling into balls, using my rolling pin to cut dough into cutesy shapes, or smooshing them down with a fork or bottom of a glass.  this is a drop cookie, hallelujah!  i did embellish my cookie with orange sugar crystals, which was a little labor intensive, but again this is about winning. 

so the big taste test.  my tasters are always my kids.  ash, who doesn't like anything didn't like these either.  he took one bite, crinkled up his face and said, "i don't like them."  i really wasn't too surprised he hasn't liked any of the cookies i have made of late (banana peanut butter cup cookies, molasses cookies, or the sugar cookie with almond joy pieces in them) he is a basic cookie lover...chocolate chip.  P on the other hand thought they were great.  she wanted another.  i took this as a good sign. 

my opinion, i had ash's leftover, i thought they were good.  straight out of the oven, the white chocolate chips (the cream part) was all melty and gooey.  there was just enough orange zest to get a good orange flavor but not overpowering, and there is enough butter in them that any butter fan would drool.  i think the most remarkable thing was they tasted just like an orange creamsicle. 

i have just one question.  i had to zest 6 oranges.  what in the world do i do with 6 nude navel oranges? 

http://www.the-girl-who-ate-everything.com/2010/04/creamsicle-cookies.html

loving you....or not...

i am single.

you are going to have to be amazing to change that.

being a single gal who doesn't want to be single means that you have to date.  i have found myself on a handful of first dates, but rarely do they lead to a second date.  i recently went on a ridiculous first date that had disaster written all over it. 

i am guilty of derailing this date from the get go.  i made a crass remark, that didn't really come out the way i had intended.  i was unaware that he was bald.  for the record, i have no problem with the follically challenged, there are some men who pull this off beautifully.  he was one of those men.  i was just unaware.  so in the first few exchanges i derailed the date with...

me: i wasn't aware that you are bald. 

him: oh i'm not bald

me: so you just choose to not wear your hair?

him: speechless with a did you really just say that look on his face

there are times that i just shouldn't open my mouth.  this was definitely one of those times.  as the words made their way past my lips my inner voice said seriously heather you are an ass.  besides the fact that i opened my big mouth without weighing my words first, he had absolutely no sense of humor.  a sense of humor is a must for me.  what in the world do you have if you can't find humor in everyday mundane things?

there were many ridiculous awkward pauses in the conversation.  i am pretty good at carrying on a conversation, but i am not tom hanks from castaway, i can't carry the whole thing.  a conversation is traditionally an exchange of words between two or more people.  please, please contribute.

after many awkward pauses and disagreements in opinion our time together was coming to an end.  the next thing that happened was strange.  how many times have you been out to eat with a person of the opposite sex?  me...tons (my ex-husband, my ex-boyfriend, , the handful of first dates, and male friends in general).  how many times has the wait staff person come to your table and asked "will this be on one or separate checks?"  me...if this has happened before i just don't remember.  this happens frequently when i am with the ladies, but i really can't remember it happening when i am out with a man.  anyway, he hesitated in answering and looked at me, which i quickly said, "i got mine." 

maybe i am a little old fashioned, but i do expect the person who asked the other one out, to pay.  he asked me out to dinner but i picked up my own tab.  clearly it wasn't going well, but this was the clincher.  then he asked if i wanted to go do something else.  really?  ummm...no, but thank you for an awkward evening and good luck in your search.

needless to say, i haven't heard from his since.  i drove home singing in my car thinking man this is hard.  i guess i am getting a better idea of what i am NOT looking for. 

my ice cream fell...

crestfallen...

adjective

dejected; dispirited; discouraged.

compliments of dictionary.com

there are times when i get my hopes up.  look forward to something.  get psyched about a new endeavor.  i have a skip in my step.  i am excited to get out of bed.  i have an extra big cheesy smile on my face.  i dress different (a little more spiffy, a little less drab).  i take extra time doing my hair and make up.  i sing more to music that has a quicker beat.  i have more patience with my kids.  my laugh seems to be a little louder, if that can even be possible.  my presence has just a smidge more joy to it.

sometimes it, whatever it may be, doesn't pan out.  doesn't come to fruition.  fizzles out.  fades to nothing.  those times leave me crestfallen.  this may seem dramatic.  realistically it probably is, but nonetheless i still have the moment.  big cheesy smile curls down at the corners.  my posture droops, so even if i have on a spiffy outfit it no longer looks spiffy because i am slumping like the hunchback of notre dame.  my inner glow is dimmed for a spell.  i might celebrate the discourage with a "break up" cd or two. 

i have a hard time hiding my disappointment which will most likely mean that my interactions will be short, curt, abrupt.  unfortunately my frankness will not be reserved for whomever or whatever caused the mood swing.  just ask my kids, they will give you a first hands account of my mood shifts.  i am that person who wears their heart on their sleeve.  for better or worse (there is that darn wedding mumbo jumbo again...it's still with me), i am an open book. 

like most of my blog posts there is a story that initiates the topic.  this feeling of dejection is stemming from one specific thing.  for the past couple of months the plans have fallen through.  maybe it is because the plan was never supposed to happen in the first place.  if it was, it would just happen easy peasy with no hang ups.  i wonder if the other end of the plan is feeling the same thing, crestfallen?  probably not, the other end of the plan isn't as emotionally charged as i am.

i have tried to adopt this idea of letting things happen and not forcing it, but i don't always succeed.  i don't think i am that different from others around me, when i want something to happen i genuinely want it.  maybe where i differ is that i daydream and fantasize about that something.  so when it fails to occur it is like my ice cream has just fallen off the cone and landed on the ground. 

i guess i am at that point of switching gears... instead of making the same plan that keeps falling through i need to try a different plan?  hmmm....

dear santa....

i have the wedding march lingering in my head.  i catch myself humming the tune.  i know i am humming audibly and wonder if those around me think i am getting married?  because really why would any woman randomly hum the wedding march if she wasn't planning on sashaying down the aisle?  well i am not getting married, i don't even have a beau in my life, but the tune keeps escaping my mouth.

so random....or is it?

we have entered that time of year that encourages coupling.  cold nights meant to be spent cozied up with that special someone by a fire, on the couch, in your bed or all of them in no particular order.  this time of year is very romantic, way more so than valentine's day.  you know that ridiculous holiday that oozes manufactured love?  anyway, hollywood has put many dreamy, sappy, romantic moments in my head that happen during this time of year.  for instance, sleepless in seattle...oh my word, love.  falling in love with a voice, taking a giant leap of faith and meeting at the top of the empire state building.  completely ridiculous but uber romantic. 

i am pretty sure my children have asked santa to bring me a man for Christmas.  why you ask?  well let me tell you.  i am smothering them in hugs and kisses.  pretty much mauling them every second i can.  i adopt this super annoying high pitched nasally voice and say, "give your mommy a kiss."  both of my kids cringe when i do this, but they tolerate me.  ash always wipes me affections off.  i tell him he is just rubbing them in, but he hasn't bought into that concept yet.  peyton is a trooper and most of the time loves the attention as much as i love giving it, but sometimes she needs to appear "cool" and can't have her mother draped all over her. 

on these quiet chilly nights when the lights are low, the kids have gone to bed and i am sitting alone my mind wanders.  i am pretty much doomed.  there is a slight chance that my fantasy life will come to fruition, but i am hopeful.  i am guessing there won't be a man to unwrap on christmas morning but maybe there will be a man to unwrap christmas night...just kidding.

feeling schmuckish....

in the past couple of weeks i have felt like a schmuck.  there have been several instances that i have had to turn away or been reminded of my weakness as a human.  i am probably being a little hard on myself, maybe just a smidge, but we are historically our own worst enemy. 

a few weeks ago there was a gentleman who gave his testimonial at church.  his story is a savory life riddled with crime, drugs, hard time, rehab and recovery.  it was a moving account and made me cry. the part of his story that spoke to me the most was that during his repeated failures he had a wife who stood by him raising their family.  to my knowledge i have never met her, but i am in complete and utter awe of her.  how did she find the strength to continually forgive? 

my friend in spokane, who i will from now on refer to as spokane, and i were talking the other day.  he was watching the show intervention.  he asked if i had ever seen it.  i told him i had, but that it was really hard to watch because it hits too close to home.  spokane did not understand what i meant because i had not shared this part of my life.  after giving him the abbreviated version he asked did you try to make it work? 

i was a little irritated and upset by the question.  my initial reaction was are you kidding?  of course i tried.  the question made me feel insensitive, uncaring, and unforgiving.  all characteristics that i don't associate with myself.  it was a reasonable question but my reaction was not.  the question reminded me of the lady from church, how did she do it?  and the bigger question, why couldn't i?

recently i introduced you to my confidant. this past week i asked the question would you have stayed?  the answer was no. the answer came quickly, no contemplation, just an answer.  this quick unthought out answer is usually a gut reaction and one that should be trusted.  this brought on another question do you ever feel weak because you wouldn't have stuck it out?  again the answer was no.  wow!  i was surprised that like myself this human would have left, would have removed themselves from the equation. 

what makes the lady from church so different from me? so different from my confidant?  am i weak?  is my faith not strong enough?  do i place more value on my own happiness and well being than she does?  i don't have answers for any of these questions, but they have been swirling around in my head begging to be answered.

on the tail of those two in depth conversations (with spokane and my confidant) i received a phone call.  i always hesitate when this number appears on my phone.  i never know what the call will bring, what kind of emotions it will stir, and i still don't know how to end the conversation.  i answer because it is my duty.  this time the call made me catch my breath.  i had to say that i couldn't help directly.  i felt terrible, uncaring and insensitive. 

after days of mulling, my emotions are still muddled.  my hope is that with time those emotions will wane and not swing so far on the pendulum consuming the moment and occupying my every thought.

handbag whore...

leather, canvas, pleather, satin, suede, vinyl, wool....not underwear

zippers, snaps, drawstring, buckles, magnetic....not jacket closures

quilted, embossed, embroidered, stamped, shiny, matte....not shoes

black, brown, red, green, blue, yellow, white, multi colored....not nail polish

 purses, satchels, handbags....topic of discussion today.

the obsession with handbags is baffling to me.  they can cost thousands of dollars or just a few dollars.  they are big, small and every size in between.  some women match them to their outfit creating an ensemble of perfection to nth degree.  other women schlep the same bag everyday not caring if it matches.  but they all have the same function..a vehicle to carry stuff. 

i swapped handbags the other day.  this may not seem monumental or blog worthy, but it reminded me of some funny stories of a particular handbag.  i typically carry a handbag that could qualify for checked luggage.  being the mother of two means that i get handed lots of random things to "hold", which really means i put the things in my bag only to get swallowed up in the abyss of crap.

i used to have a red leather bag with a satin leopard lining.  i loved this handbag.  she had simple lines, was the perfect size and best of all it was a gift.  my very first day taking her out for a spin catastrophe struck.  i met my neighbor for coffee after dropping kids off at school.  i set red on the ground next to my chair.  my friend and i are both "hand talkers", no we are not sign language experts, but we both use our hands to help describe our comments.  as our expressive conversation ensued a sweep of my friends hand launched a coffee cup across the table landing inside of red.  red proved to be a superior bag not leaking a drop of coffee anywhere.

a couple of years later red proved her worth again but met her match.  the mammas and i were on an adventure, we went to see grease when it came to seattle.  this was an opportunity for a night out, to get all gussied up, eat a meal together that none of us had to prepare and see a show.  this is equivalent to foreplay for a mom.  i wore a black and white polka dot dress and red heels.  a last minute decision to throw my summer bag into red (to match my outfit better) was a life saver and a life killer all in one. 

a little back story so the rest of the story makes sense.  being a mom means that you live with walking petri dishes.  at any given moment your immune system can fail striking you with the plague.  well one of our mommies had had the flu claiming it's victims throughout her home, but so far she had been fine.

back to red's demise.  we have dinner and have watched the show.  during the encore, the mommy mentioned above slumps over in her seat.  after a little coaxing we get her to sit up and realize that she is going to throw up.  shreddie frantically starts emptying her bag.  without thinking i pull my summer bag out of red and pass her down the aisle.  just as she found her destination she was filled with a regurgitated fish dinner.  we made our way out of the hall and red found her final resting place in a random garbage can in downtown seattle.  red was a good bag.

i am not a handbag whore, i only have a couple and they aren't top quality.  i'm not concerned about carrying the best brand because i use and abuse my bags.  i toss them across the seat in my car, set them on the ground in the bathroom (if there is no hook) on the floor of a restaurant, under my desk at work and at school, and shove them full of everything and anything except for the kitchen sink.  

wishing bracelet...

Wishing Bracelet

i have said this before, but often times i find myself roped into something without knowing all the details.  my wishing bracelet is no exception. 

one of my oldest and dearest friends, heather, has an exchange student from brazil.  heather lives with her husband matt in moses lake.  she makes the trek to the west side more than any other east sider out there.  well i suppose i don't know that for sure, i only know a handful of east siders, but she does visit a lot.  anyway, heather and matt don't have kids they have pets; mona, pita and oh dear lord i cannot remember the cat's name.  i want to say gandolph but i know that isn't it.  this year they decided to host an exchange student, hanna.

i had the great pleasure of meeting her in early august, when heather decided that hanna needed to see where she grew up.  i received a text from heather while i was out on a really long, therapeutic, mind clearing run.  i wasn't sold on the visit, but went anyway.  after cleaning up a bit, i trekked over to lake stevens to another fellow classmates house.  the distraction of life long friends was exactly what i needed.

a migration to another house and a couple of drinks later, hanna pulls out this enormous bag of ribbons.  the rainbow of colors was incredible.  she asked do you want a wishing bracelet?  well of course i do.  hanna tells me that this is a tradition where she is from and people line their arms with as many wishing bracelets as they can.  i got to pick my favorite color out of the enormous array of colors, pink.  not just any pink but the brightest most noticable pink available.
 

hanna, takes the two ends, wraps it around my wrist twice and then says make a wish....i close my eyes and make my first wish, she ties a knot.  she says make another wish...i close my eyes again and make my second wish, she ties another knot.  then she says make your last wish...i close my eyes for the third time, think real hard, make my third wish, hanna ties the last knot.  as hanna finishes the last knot she gives me the instructions...

you may not remove this for any reason of your own means. 

you cannot tell anyone what your wishes are.

if the bracelet falls off on its own and you've not shared your wishes with anyone...

they will come true.

most of you know that i am rule follower.  i drive the speed limit, i read front to back never jump to the end, i don't peak at christmas presents...rules...i follow them.  so i am looking at my bracelet thinking hmmm i wonder how long this thing will be on my wrist?

the first couple of weeks i really noticed this pink ribbon tied to my wrist.  the ribbon was itchy and annoying.  it was so bright, i tried to hide its presence with other bracelets and long sleeves, but it was august so long sleeves wasn't really an option.  i was constantly futzing with it.  during the first month of wearing my ribbon, i was asked a lot did you go to the fair?  this seemed like such a weird question the first time it was asked.  why would anyone think i had gone to the fair?  oh yeah, i have a fluorescent pink ribbon tied to my wrist, it looks like an all day ride pass, but do people really wear those after they leave the fair like a badge of honor? 

we are now at the end of november.  i have had this ribbon tied to my wrist since the first half of august.  it is starting to break down but i don't think its integrity has been compromised.  if i would've known i was going to be wearing this to my grave i may have chosen a less obscene color, maybe have opted for the nude colored ribbon. i smell it at least once a day checking for any type of odor, so far it just smells like the soap i scrub it with daily.  i have stopped trying to hide it, mostly because i don't really notice it anymore.

from time to time i check in with heather to see if she is still wearing hers and she always responds yes i am and you better still have yours on.  i get a nice little chuckle from her response and answer of course i am.



smellmop....

ad circulars, tremendously long lines, bad attitudes, and occasional tramplings....this can only be black friday shopping.  for some reason on this day, which happens during hours that no reasonable human being should be awake unless you work graveyard, people don their worst behavior and poorest manners.  maybe it is caused by lack of sleep, or that they are cold from standing outside waiting in a long line, or maybe it is just because they are worried about getting that one thing and can't imagine missing it because of all these other yahoos in front of them.  whatever the case, people are not happy to be black friday shopping.

in general i don't enjoy shopping, but i look forward to this shopping day.  it is another day that i get to spend with my girlfriends, that we get to be silly and create another memory.  as with anything the mammas do this is an event.  which stores in which order?  who is driving?  who rides in what car? there are usually 10 of us that go, cars are important.  do we stick together or split up for maximum efficiency? and the most important thing where are we going to have breakfast?  the mammas love to eat.  there is a lot of planning that goes into a mamma event.

this year was going to be different, stores were opening at 10pm, thursday night.  what?  well this definitely changed our plans from previous years. after dropping off the kids with their dad, i went home to attempt a nap.  i set my alarm, curled up in a blanket and laid down.  five minutes into my nap disaster struck.

now i am not shy and this may gross some of you out, but i think someone slipped me a laxative at dinner.  five trips to bathroom in forty minutes and i was wondering how i was ever going to go shopping.  i text my ride, i am not sure i am going to make it.  she told me you are not backing out now, i am on my way to get you.  i told her i am not crapping my pants standing in line!!

well news of my issue spread fast.  bethy text me ummmm.....spray poop?  this is what her six year old son calls number 3.  massive.  it's like i took a laxative, and the smell coming out of my rear would disintegrate the car and all it's occupant!!  too much rich food today!  well my mamma friends are ruthless and never pass an opportunity to poke fun at one another.  this is where the fun starts...

knock, knock....
who's there?
smellmop
smellmop who?
say it out loud...

if you said it out loud hopefully you giggled.  i did as i was sitting on the pot.  now i had posted on my facebook page C.R.A.P.  i knew the ladies would get it, but i was hoping that someone would come up with what those letters could mean...i can't think of any at the moment, but you get the drift.  instead i got sorry mamma mud butt is no fun.  oh my goodness, i wasn't expecting that, but again i laughed. 

i never made it shopping. my plan was to have the mass clean out, then meet up with the ladies.  at midnight i was finally done and exhausted.  i ended up just going to bed.  this is the first black friday shopping i have missed in the last 5-6 years.  so sad to have missed the adventure, but seriously glad that i didn't crap my pants in front of my friends and countless strangers.  there is no way i would've lived that down, EVER.

cactus does not taste like green beans....

i am sitting here on the eve of the only acceptable day for gluttony, excited about the festivities.  however, i am struggling with what to write about.  i am torn between being sentimental and sappy, i've been doing that a lot lately, and infusing a good dose of turkeylicious humor.  can i do both? 

this is typically a month of thankfulness.  when i peruse facebook i see many friends who make a daily post of something they are thankful for.  i did this last year, it was fun, kind of silly at times (i was thankful for chapstick one day), sometimes meaningful (my friends and family) and always sincere.  i have decided not to partake this year, instead i am going to write a blog post.  su-prise, su-prise, su-prise....anyone know what movie that is from?  i can't remember, but i can hear the man's voice in my head.

do you remember the friends episode where monica is making thanksgiving dinner and she is trying appease everyone and is preparing potatoes 5 different ways?  that was a funny one.  anyway, i don't have a story like that, but i have great memories of turkey day meals, thought i would share a couple.

i like green beans.  this may come as shock to some because i don't do cooked veggies, but green beans is one that i do like.  please don't drown them in some horrible cream-of-something soup, there is nothing appealing about grayish-green green beans.  one year while shopping for the fixins, the produce lady somehow convinced my mom that cactus, yes cactus, tastes just like green beans.  i am sure that lady was smoking something because i will be the first to tell you cactus tastes NOTHING like green beans.  the cactus year we also had cornish game hens instead of turkey, why i can't remember, but use your imaginations and picture our plates.  half of a personal sized bird with minuscule legs and wings, a slab (actually i am not sure what you even call it) of cactus, mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing (which i refuse to eat, my mom totally ruined this for me, she puts liver in it) rolls, and cranberries from the can with the rings embedded into the gelatinous mass....yummy!

my dad is a huge turkey skin fan.  truth be told so am i.  i am a scavenger when it comes to kitchens, hovering at the edge of a counter, ready at any moment to swoop in and pick a piece of whatever.  following traditional etiquette, my dad is the carver at his holiday meal.  this is always done in the kitchen, not at the table like in the movies, and when i with him i am the wing man, helping him plate the chunks of meat onto the enormous platter and stealing skin when the opportunity arises.  so one year, my sis and i hid the plate of skin my dad assembled for himself.  dad kind of went into a panic when he noticed it was gone.  my sis and i casually told him that we had eaten it.  he was so upset i thought he was going to carve us right there and then.  my sis and i have never made that mistake again, it just wasn't worth the ire that arose from my dad. 

so here we go friends, a day of gluttony is upon us.  enter the day remembering all the blessings you have in your life.  for me i have wonderful kids who encourage me to grow, friends who provide counsel and laughter, family that loves me even when i don't deserve it, a job that pays the bills, fabulous clothes on my back, a belly full of delicious food and a new roof over my head.  my life is definitely blessed. 

love note...

write me a love note

am i the only one out there starving for romance? 

we live in a world where everything is instant.  our communication is instant, our food is instant, an idea can be made into reality in no time at all.  with so many advances in technology, medicine and science we no longer have to wait.  i think this has left us a little impatient.

i am no exception.  when i want something i want it now.   i am very impatient when it comes to certain things.  when i want coffee i just press a button.  i might actually die if i had to fill up my tea kettle, wait for the water to boil then pour the scalding water over the coffee grounds, wait for it to steep before pressing the plunge, and finally pouring it in my mug.  oh my gosh!  i definitely would die.  even getting in my car and driving to the nearest coffee stand/shop would be too much. 

i have a friend in spokane that i talk to everyday via text.  our conversations basically happen in real time, except for a few second delay.  i can read the message and respond within a minute.  it is almost like having this friend on my couch enjoying a cup of coffee that i only had to press a button to make. we have joked about ditching our phones and writing letters.  ummmm....no can do, i am way to addicted to my phone, but the romance of it is intriguing.

texting has changed my life in a way that i can keep in touch with so many of my friends at any given moment without really interfering with what i am doing laundry, making dinner, or using the restroom.  yes i do use my phone in the bathroom sometimes, but just think if i was actually talking to you on the phone instead of texting you....what would you hear?

as much as i love texting there is a part of me that is longing, yearning, starving for something else.  a little mystery.  a little suspense.  the anticipation that only comes with having to wait.  can you even imagine corresponding with a lover, a bosom buddy, or your parents if all you had was the postal service?

would you check your mailbox more often?  i would.  i would check it everyday, hoping for that one letter with its distinct script on the envelope.  when it finally arrived, the rest of the world would melt away while i sprawled across my bed to read the words from my beloved.  i can picture myself holding the words close to my heart as i let out a heavy sigh.  i wouldn't waste any time penning my beloved.

to my dearest love,

if i wore perfume i would want to spray the stationary so when my beloved opened my letter it would remind him of me and maybe of a time that we shared together.  i might even kiss the paper after applying a healthy dose of true red lipstick.  oh my gosh, i am so sappy and mushy.  i suppose this is all very Gone With the Wind  or  Anne of Green Gables -esque, but boy it seems romantic. 

life today isn't as it used to be, but i can tell you there is a way to infuse a little romance into a modern day message.

hope you have an amazing day!

may colors seem more vivid than usual

and your coffee taste remarkably better than it ever has before!

homogenized

H-O-M-O-G-E-N-I-Z-E-D

when i was in 5th grade, mr. landoni's class, i was in a spelling bee.  i never made it past my school's own competition because i misspelled homogenized.  i will never, ever, EVER forget how to spell this word ever again.  i was so excited to be in the spelling bee.  i had huge dreams of being this master speller.  my dreams were squashed in my first bee, but it sparked my love of words.

5th grade was an incredible year, i might even go so far as to say my best elementary school year.  i was very "showy" in 5th grade.  i was in the spelling bee, the school play and i was a story teller.  there is a video floating around of a very animated me telling rapunzel to a group of first or second graders.  oy!  my mom loves this video, so much that she would hold viewings for potential suitors when i was in high school. of course, i confiscated it and hid it in the bottom drawer of my dresser until i moved out and i have it safely tucked away in a box. 

this morning, saturday, i watched my daughter's face light up.  we were at the microsoft store in bellevue, where she received a certificate of accomplishment for a writing competition at school.  i am so incredibly proud of her.  she may not make it any farther in the competition but she puts herself out there.  she puts herself out there to be seen, to be judged, to be heard.  she is fearless.

i'm not really sure when or where i lost my fearlessness, but i am slowly regaining it.  maturity came with caution.  caution was interpreted as don't draw attention to yourself fool, just get through school. 
caution turned into habit.  habit turned into marrying someone who wasn't the best fit for me. wasn't the best fit turned into wit's end and drastic change.  drastic change is finding the real me, which is essentially the adventures of flo.  wow that is quite the life cycle.  remember learning life cycles in school?  the circle diagram, that is what i picture with a big ol' head shot of me in the middle.

at 35 you aren't going to catch me in a play, or a spelling bee, or singing at the local bar.  i just don't draw attention to myself in that manner anymore.  i can, however, guarantee that any time, any where, any place i will be able to spell homogenized. go ahead and try me!

H-O-M-O-G-E-N-I-Z-E-D

a snippet...

it's been six days since i have written anything.  oh my gosh six whole days.  i have to confess that this is actually my fourth post that i have started since dating adventures part two.  i have many, many unfinished, unpublished thoughts.  some thoughts just aren't big enough to expand on. 

for instance,  i was having an email discussion with a friend the other day about sleeping with socks on...

i have an irrational fear of fires.  i have never been in a house fire, although my parents have, it was before i was born.  i haven't known anyone outside of my parents who have been in a house fire.  where the fear comes from i don't know.  i get ready for bed every night anticipating a fire.  this means, i am dressed to run out of my house and face my neighbors with a shred of dignity...aka not naked.  so in the cooler months i have on sleep pants and a t-shirt, in the warmer i have on shorts and tank top but never do i have socks on.  there is an exception to this, camping.  let's face it, it's just downright cold camping whether you are in a bag by yourself or someone else.  for some reason i feel like my feet need to breathe, which made me examine the life of my feet...

i wake up, swing my legs out of bed and slip my naked feet into a pair of well worn slippers.  only to drown them in my morning shower and shove them back into my well worn slippers.  after several minutes or hours in a fluffy pink cotton do my feet get a glimpse of the outside world and fresh air before they are encased in socks or hose for an unspecified amount of time.  i am always cold so my feet are held captive until it is time for bed where i remove the casing they've been trapped in all day and insert them into a cave of cotton until the cycle repeats itself.  can you imagine if i wore socks to bed?  those poor feet.

anyway, this isn't really a thought to expand on.  i find humor in the conversation but can't find anything else to say about it.  so i guess this will just be it.  short and sweet.  a little bit of humor and a little more insight into my crazy mind.

gum on my shoe...

i am feeling the need to write about something that hits very close to home.  i have been putting it off because it is very hard for me to express my thoughts and feelings without exposing the story.  i do feel an obligation to protect ones privacy, especially if i haven't received permission to share.  so i apologize in advance because this may come across as very vague.  i also feel that this might be hard to read, it may make some uncomfortable, it makes me uncomfortable, but i think it is important for me to put this out there.

i have a new confidant.  i have known this human for the last year, yet we haven't ever had a real conversation.  our paths are crossing in a way that has allowed us to share our stories with each other.  you hear that expression ...until you have walked in the other person's shoes... which is virtually impossible to do, because we all makes choices and have life experiences that may be similar but aren't exactly the same.  however, this individual may be the closest i will ever get to walking in someone elses shoes. 

this human understands the burden that i chose to bear knowing logically and consciously that it wasn't my burden to shoulder.  this human understands the internal dialogue one has to justify their actions.  this human understands the sacrifices one makes to keep everyone safe.  this human understands.

it is really hard to watch someone you care about struggle with personal demons.  if you don't have anyone in your life that struggles with demons count your lucky stars.  i still care, but have had to distance myself to preserve my sanity.  trying to help someone with their demons is very taxing.  it might not be for someone who is educated, licensed and equipped, but i am none of those things.  i do not set forth clear boundaries, i am an enabler, i make things okay.  realizing that you, yourself, is part of the problem is like taking a kick to the groin.

when i started sharing my story with my new confidant i have to admit that i was jealous.  jealous, that their story ends. there is no second, third, twentieth, or one hundredth chapter to live through, to deal with, to overcome.  that story is completely written and the book is closed.  i am sure that the book will be revisited and maybe even a specific chapter more often than the others, but this confidant gets to choose if they want to revisit.  i do not have that luxury.  

the jealous feeling was short lived.  when we share i see a human is deeply sad.  a human who performs their daily life for the benefit of others and to maintain a sense of normalcy.  a human who looks at their life and says, "what happened?"  i recognize, understand and have felt all the sadness, the questions and the obligations to continue.  however, i get the benefit, if you want to call it that, of continued build ups and let downs to unburden my heart and brain of guilt.  i think my confidant carries an additional burden, one that i cannot relate to.

i am ashamed that i once wanted my confidant's story.  i have expressed this desire and was met with eyes of disbelief and grief.  i instantly felt like gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe.  i imagine that my confidant wishes that there were more chapters, wishes that they could have build ups and let downs, even though they are challenging to come through.  those emotions and occurrences are living.  i no longer wonder.  i have seen what the book that ends looks like.

i want to thank my confidant for sharing openly and candidly.  

dating adventures part two....

you know this is going to be funny.  the title alone eludes to the fact that i have been exposing myself to a new crop of men hoping to find something worth my time. 

i know there are a good portion of my readers that are one facebook. so readers, do you remember when you started your facebook account?  i do.  i was addicted to my facebook page.  i was a stay-at-home mom with kids in school and time to waste.  i spent hours building my army of friends, putting silly buttons on my page, changing my mood with the mood stone app, reading status updates.  addicted for sure. 

on-line dating is kind of the same thing.  i have had a profile on plenty of fish (a free dating website) for a long time (the last year).  when i was dating matt i had it hidden.  i never looked at it because i was blissfully happy with him, but when my eternally sun shiny days started to fade and i knew that it just wasn't going to work, i unhid myself.  this is where our adventure begins.

a free website is sure to be loaded with intensely crazy people.  i find myself "window shopping" the site, perusing profiles.  i think humans are fascinating.  i love reading about what makes someone tick, their interests, their goals.  i cringe at all the "text talk" that shows up in people's bios, come on folks put yourself back in english class, dust off the file cabinet you've stored your proper grammar in and put it back in use.  there is a large number of fellas, my age, who want to be gangsta's; backwards hat pulled down over their eyebrows and a super serious "i am going to beat the crap out of you" scowl on their face.  this is not an inviting look, what happened to smiling?  maybe say cheese isn't as widely used as it used to be.

i will talk to just about anybody and this is probably a downfall of mine.  so when i get a new message (they seem to come in waves, some days i get a flurry of messages and then days will go by without any activity), i look for a few things; location (i've narrowed the search to about 10 miles), height (you have to be taller than me in heels, i just don't want to be looking at the top of your head), doesn't want anymore kids (i really am not interested in birthing more children).  then i read their profile...the fella can be cuter than all get out but if he can't write something worth reading with good grammar and correct spelling well i just can't deal.  then i scope out the pics.  let's face it not everyone is photogenic, and i try not to judge too much by the photos, but there definitely needs to be some sort of attraction.

i almost always respond to the message even if it is just to say no thank you.  however, if you are interesting i will engage.  i kind of remind myself of an old blue hair.  you know those ladies who will talk to anyone just to have a conversation?  i feel like i am always starved for adult interaction and conversation, but really i shouldn't be because i talk to so many people everyday.  anyway, occasionally i find myself at the coffee shop meeting one of these interesting fellas.  i have learned some valuable lessons that i feel is my duty to pass along.

1.  if all pictures are from far away or with sunglasses...there may be a problem.  sometimes people look so different from their photos.  this fella had a wandering eye.  oh my word!  this may not be an issue for some, but i can't control my face.  i had no idea what eye to look at.  i could feel my face scrunching up, eyebrows furrowed, my mouth pinched and my head cocked to the right, always the right.  oh for goodness sakes, i need a heads up about this kind of thing.  that was a no.

2.  last fall i met a fella...on paper a pretty good catch, but there are just somethings that aren't listed on paper.  i actually met him two times.  our first meeting i noticed that he stuttered a bit.  chalked it up to being nervous.  well the second time we had dinner, there was wine involved.  you would think that the wine would loosen things up, but this only intensified the stuttering.  again, can't control my face.  he stuck on M's.  the letter M is actually used a lot.  more than one may realize.  needless to say, i made a complete ass of myself hanging on the words, wanting to finish the thought.  that was a no.

i really am not so shallow as to discount fellas for attributes that are beyond their control, but i know myself and what i can feasibly live with.  wandering eyes and stuttering aren't things i can live with.

so sometimes the messages are just so out there they leave you baffled.  for instance:

1.  would you be interested in marrying a preacher and doing missionary work?  quite the pick up line!  i told him no, but thank you for the offer.

2.  interested in dating?  talk about jumping in with both feet.  the kicker, he/she lives in texas.  did you catch the he/she?  this human was definitely a woman masquerading as a man!  are you kidding me?

well that's about all i've got today. 

cheers

learning to dazzle....i think

maybe there is something to this dazzling thing after all.  i have to back up a bit so that you get the full story and that it makes sense.

so as you know i am divorced.  i think i have made that pretty clear.  we have a pretty typical visitation schedule; one overnight during the week and every other weekend.  however on the weekends with their dad the kids come home monday morning before school.  the transition day always seems to be the hardest.  i recognize that it is hard for me to switch hats sometimes, so i can only imagine how difficult it is for my kids to switch hats with their limited life experience. 

monday morning, between 7:30 and 8:00 a.m.  i've made breakfast and am working on picking up the dishes.  at the table world war three is breaking out in the form of insults, complaints, whining, yelling and complete chaos.  i am thinking to myself this is not how one should eat their breakfast, they are not being kind to each other, what the heck? 

you guys need jesus!

complete silence.  jaws drop to the table.  utensils are held in mid-air.  i have two sets of eyes glued to me wondering and waiting for the next words that will come out of my mouth.  i gently pull out the chair at the head of the table and sit.  i calmly ask my kids some questions:

Mom: are you two treating each other the way you want to be treated?
Kids: no
Mom: do you think that God would like how you are behaving?
Kids: no
Mom: do you think that God is watcing you now?
Kids: yes
Mom: well maybe you should think about that.

i walked away from the table without another word and continued getting myself ready for work.  the kids were very nice to each other rest of the morning.  there was no arguments, no sassing, no whining. 

Mom: 1
Kids: 0

i realize that this will only work a couple more times before the shock value wears off, but i've got to tell you that i was very pleased. 

in all seriousness, there is something to this dazzling thing.  i get that i am poking fun at the whole concept, and i've made some not-so-nice comments regarding the authors, but i do find myself interacting with my kids a little differently. 

i still have my beef with the book.  i think the idea is good and there are a lot of things that i agree with, but the manner in which i am supposed to be delivering the message to my kids is completely crazy town.  i just don't have that in me.  i was discussing the book with another parent and she had written in the margin this is exhausting.  we were talking about how the dialogue the authors give you is just too much and that we wished it was simplified.   in my head i pictured a yellow manual with black caution tape that says Give them Grace: For Dummies. 

as the group was throwing out different scenarios and how they handled them a very important point was made.  you can be giving your children grace without having to reference God.  aha!  this is good news for me.  as i have said before i think that i teach my kids God's law but that i don't use the verbage that you would find in the bible.  in order for me to spread the gospel with my children in a "teaching moment" would require me to hit the pause button, call beth and ask her what to say, come back to my kids, press play and then continue.  as you can see this is not a reasonable scenario, i just don't live in the movie "Click" with Adam Sandler. 

as we get farther in the book we are being exposed to a plan on how to incorporate the gospel and when it is a time to just discipline.  i think we all agreed that we would prefer that the book was more black and white, but that just isn't life.  life is gray, not one shade of gray but an ombre of gray. 

so the dazzling continues.  my kids will probably always be obnoxious ratchets at times. they will always make choices that require a healthy dose of full on law.  i am doing my best to add some more grace, this is kind of tough for me i like order.  i will probably continue to poke fun and warn my kids prepared to be dazzled, but i know, my kids, and yes God knows that i infuse my day with humor, laughter and sarcasm because it is me. 

smelly cat...

the tv show friends is probably one of my all time favorites. when it was on air i watched it religiously.  watching friends on thursday night was part of my routine.  there was an episode where phoebe had a cold, she is in the coffee shop playing her guitar and singing smelly cat, in her sexy lounge cold induced voice.  every time i have a cold and my voice gets deeper, scratchier and throatier i think of phoebe and her lounge voice.

there is a question that i often ask of people i am getting to know.  what is your dream job?  this question is asked with the following guidelines; if you didn't have to think about money, location, or any other factor what would your dream job be?  i love people's answers.  often times you can learn something about them, some sort of aspiration or desire that wouldn't come up in a regular conversation.  inevitably i get the question in return.

so some of you will already know the answer, but my response is a back up singer.  the doo-wop girl.  usually there is more than one of these girls.  so we would be in nondescript outfits, probably black dresses and boots, we can't be too flashy you aren't really supposed to notice us. we stand at our microphones, for some reason back up singers always seem to be to the left (when you are looking at the stage as a spectator) of the actual singer.  we coordinate our movements, usually this means we have our arms at a 90 degree angle and we step from left to right and move our arms in a similar fashion.  oh yeah baby this is my dream job.

back up singer you say?  why wouldn't you want to be the front woman?  well this may come as a shocker, but i really don't like being the center of attention.  when all eyes are on me i freeze.  i have had this fear for as long as i can remember the feeling of embarrassment.  speaking in front of people, well actually being the sole person doing anything in front of a group of people, makes me want to vomit.  this has come up in many aspects of my life.

i once had a job where i had to present a product.  what do they call those people?  oh yeah, a salesperson.  this is not really a job for me.  sure i am personable and can carry on a conversation, but trying to pitch a product and convince you to purchase it...forget it.  this is not my forte.  every time i had to present our product i would sweat profusely, my face turned bright red, talked really fast, forgot things, said too many of the wrong things, fidgeted...oh the list could continue, but i think you might get the idea.

this has also come up in sports.  sports?  that is kind of weird.  well let me explain.  in high school i ran track.  i was a 400 hundred runner, that is once around the track.  basically a sprint for three quarters of the track.  i was actually pretty good at it.  in the beginning i missed a couple of my races because i was in the bathroom throwing up from nerves.  i just couldn't keep them under wraps.  i also went golfing once.  yes only once.  i went with my ex husband.  since i had no idea what i was doing, i didn't want anyone to watch me.  i kept letting groups go ahead of us, waiting for an opportunity where there wasn't anyone watching so i could take my rookie crap swing.  my ex only let that happen a few times before he told me i had to go and i had to go now.  i have never golfed again.

i am getting more comfortable at making a fool of myself.  i dont' get as embarrassed as i used to.  i credit this to being a mother and making a fool of yourself to keep your kids happy and entertained.  i still haven't worked up the courage to be a singer, in front of others.  karaoke?  oh heck no, you will not get me up there.  i don't really care if you fill out a slip with my name on it.  you would first have to pry me from my chair and even then you can't make me open my mouth and emit a sound.  just sayin'

my lounge voice is already gone, but i thought i would copy and paste the lyrics to smelly cat.  just in case you find yourself with that throaty lounge voice you will know where to find the lyrics.  dont' forget your guitar, even if you can't play the tune you will look cool.

Three, four...

Smelly Cat, Smelly Cat,
What are they feeding you?
Smelly Cat, Smelly Cat
It's not your fault

They won't take you to the vet
You're obviously not their favorite pet
Smelly Cat, Smelly Cat,
It's not your fault

You may not be a bed of roses
You're not friend to those with noses
I'll miss you before we're done
Or the world will smell as one

Smelly Cat, Smelly Cat,
What are they feeding you?
Smelly Cat, Smelly Cat
It's not your fault

(Phoebe) Oh are we done?

One, two, what's that smell?

Smelly Cat, Smelly Cat,
What are they feeding you?
Smelly Cat, Smelly Cat
You're getting fat

I think that I'm gonna be sick
It's your ears, and nose and pick
Part of it, tempt me

One, two, what's that smell?

All the dogs in the neighborhood
Are saying this for your own good
What, you're fat, so you can't run
No fun, I bet, No fun

Smelly Cat, Smelly Cat,
Porno makes you eat like that
I saw you in the shopping mall

Smelly Cat, Smelly Cat,
It's not your fault,
Smelly Cat, Smelly Cat,
It's not your fault
Smelly Cat, Smelly Cat,
It's not your fault

We know what was in your food
They say it might affect your mood

You smell like something dead (3x)

One, two, what's that smell?

(Phoebe)Yeah, that's not the song