The End Of The Road

This weekend we had the opportunity to spend time with some great friends that we don’t get to see very often. It was so much fun. Reminded me how important it is to have good people in my life.

We were gathered around a fire pit telling stories and laughing until 4:00 in the morning! I knew it was late, I knew we should go but I couldn’t pull myself away.  Even knowing I would pay for the lack of sleep, I just didn’t want the night to end.

I’ve always been that way. I’m the girl that stays for the credits. I’m the girl that’s still on the dance floor when the lights come on. I’m the girl that feels slightly disappointed every time I finish a good book. I’m the girl that listens to favorite songs on repeat. I’m the girl that talks the group into Denny’s, just because I want more time.

I’m the girl that’s never been good with endings.

It’s especially hard for me when I feel things are left incomplete. I need closure and resolution. I want everything to be nice and clean. And tied with a little bow.

I struggle when it’s not.

I guess that’s why I feel compelled to let you know I’m closing this blog.

I've loved sharing my life with you. I've loved sharing  my joys, disappointments, struggles and insecurities. I hope as you read this, you could hear me. I hope you feel that you got to see me as the person I am - an imperfect, loud-mouth girl that's

awkward

ornery

passionate

goofy

bitchy

sensual

spirited

but mostly just awkward.

Of all the things I am, good and bad, I hope that what came across the most was that I am grateful.  I have been blessed beyond measure to have a wonderful family, two beautiful girls, and some amazing friends - all who love me. What more could I ask from life when I have that?

Thank you for taking the time to visit my blog and read my ramblings. I hope you found some mild entertainment in it. Or perhaps just a reason to say "At least my life's more together than that." Either way, thanks for being part of the journey.

I wish you nothing but love and happiness, today and forever...

Message In A Breakfast

God is so good.  He really, really is.

I decided to grab breakfast this morning. I had barely enough time but I decided to throw caution to the wind and go for it. Plus, I was really hungry.

It was a split drive-through. Those are always kinda a gamble.  In theory it should be every other person to a lane but lots of places have two people taking orders at the same time so sometimes it just depends.

So I played "eenie meenie miney mo", picked a lane and hoped it was the faster one.

The lady in the next lane got done ordering almost at the same time I did so we both pulled forward together.  She was actually already ahead of me so I paused. Then she paused. So I waved her on ahead of me.

Immediately I regretted it. I was in a hurry and I could have saved time by going first.

When she got to the window she took a while to pay and seemed extra chatty. In my mind I was thinking "Let's go, let's go, wrap it up. I could have already been on my way to work by now."

Then it was my turn.  I pull up and they tell me the lady paid for my breakfast!

Here I was being so impatient yet it took her more time because she was doing something nice for me!  Talk about a lesson in humility.

I just felt that it was God's way of reminding me how to move through life. A reminder to be kinder, more understanding and more patient.  So many times in life we react to what's "happening" to us without fulling understanding the big picture or recognizing how it might even be a benefit to us.

Of course I decided to pay it forward so I paid for the guy behind me.  It took her a minute to pull it up and as she did so I looked in my mirror and caught is face.  He wore the same expression I'm sure I had just a few minutes before - like "What is this lady doing?"  I smiled and thought to myself "Hold on - good things are coming!"

I'm sure God has directed that same message to me a million times.

But how often do I listen?

I think sometimes I get so mired down in the guilt of my sins that I don't hear it because I don't believe I'm worthy of receiving his blessings.

But it's amazing because His love isn't conditional. Of course I'm a wretched, awful person - but God already knows that! And He loves me anyway, without qualification.

That's what love is.

I didn't find out if the guy behind me was a "good" guy before buying his breakfast. I didn't check to make sure he met my requirements or passed my test. I didn't know his background, his struggles or his deepest shame. And the lady that bought my breakfast knew nothing of me either (or she might have thought twice). All she knew was that she wanted to take care of a stranger.

Isn't it amazing that even knowing ALL our dirt, that's what God wants too?

Phone Home

I grab my phone and head to the mailroom.

I don't normally take my phone to the mailroom. It's like 17 steps away from my office and I can't think of a reason that I would need it. I mean, I've never gotten any mail that made me so excited I had the urge to immediately whip out my phone and call someone. "OH MY GOSH!  Guess what I got? An...invoice! Eeeeek!"

But I was waiting for an important call that I didn't want to miss. And by important call I mean I was waiting for a girlfriend to call me back so I could share an incredibly catty but accurate observation.  That's definitely carry-phone-around worthy, right?

I didn't get any mail but I did have to pee. So I duck into the bathroom, which is right across from the mailroom.

I step into the stall and...uhhhh, the phone. I could put it on the toilet paper holder but...gross. I'm not a huge germophobe but these bathrooms are too disgusting for me to lay my phone down anywhere. I mean, we're talking about something that I put near my mouth. No.

I consider for a second walking back to my office (about 17 steps, remember?) to put my phone up but I'm too lazy for all that so I did the next logical thing.

I just stuck it down my bra.

I don't normally use my bra as a purse. Besides the occasional piece of food, nothing goes in there except my boobs. Because let's face it - they may be tired and saggy but they still deserve a space all their own.

So I've got my phone stuck in my bra. I don't want to pull it out until after I wash my hands. Because that kinda defeats the whole purpose of sticking it in with the girls in the first place.

As soon as I'm done washing my hands and am about to reach in and rescue my phone, someone comes into the bathroom. I thought it would seem weird to just awkwardly stand there and wait for them to go in to the stall so in a moment of brilliance I decide to just take it out when I get back to my office - 17 steps away.

17 steps. What could go wrong, right?

About 5 steps into my journey I see him. My favorite IT guy, who happens to chat with me every time we run into each other. American Horror Story episode reviews, building home dilemas or motorcycle talk - I've never seen him that we didn't have a conversation.

I'm like a deer in the headlights. I freeze and try to plot my escape. It's too late to duck into the bookstore...we've already made eye contact. Maybe I could just get away with a nod and a smile. Nope, he's zeroing in...here we go...

So we begin a little chitchat. Well, I'm not really chatting or listening because I'm having this little internal dialog with myself. How awkward is this? I'm having a conversation while my phone is IN MY BRA. Women do this all the time, it's not weird! It is weird, it's totally weird.  I wonder if he can tell... Surely not...What if it's poking out and making a bump?  Like I have some weird lumpy boob thing. My cleavage!  What if it's sticking out the top of my shirt? Oh my God, it probably is. I knew this shirt was too low! I should look...can I look without being obvious? Is that weird? Will he think I'm checking myself out? I could just look down like I'm looking down at the - 

I was suddenly interuppted by a soft buzzing.

Oh. That isn't. It can't be. Please Lord, no.... 

Oh but it is.

My phone, that is in my bra smashed up against my boob, is vibrating.

Oh my god! What do I do? WHAT DO I DO?

So I reacted like I do in any uncomfortable situation...I ignore it.

But seriously, what could I do? And I'm genuinely asking - in case it ever happens again. I've ruled out saying "Excuse me a minute" and reaching in there and pulling it out so you'll have to come up with something else...

There was a slight pause but I just looked at him and kept smiling so he kept talking...while my phone continued to buzz.  Oh my god, will this phone ever quiet ringing?  Why does it keep ringing? Go to voicemail, go to voicemail!

I half-heartedly tried to convince myself that maybe he thought it was coming from my pocket. But I am 100% sure he knew.

So never again. I don't care how good the gossip is...the phone stays in the office!

Rock Me Baby

Our front door was installed!  It looks better than I had hoped and I love it. So, super excited about that.

Hubby was excited too.  So excited that he insisted it be covered in plastic to protect it.

At first I was confused. Protect...our door? From like, what? Rain? Sunlight? Because I'm pretty sure the door is going to meet the elements. I could be wrong but I think that's like a requirement of doors nowadays.

No, the real plan was to protect the doors from the brick guys, who will be finishing up tomorrow. And will be working around the door. Yeah, THAT makes a lot more sense.

So it's about 8 at night and we're on our way home when he announces that we're going to swing by "real quick" to put up this plastic.

I don't know how it keeps happening, but I keep getting appointed as his helper. The fact that I don't have any kind of mechanical skill, can't identify tools and generally just get in his way doesn't seem to phase him.  He keeps appointing me.

My "job" this time is to hold the ladder. There are all kinds of brick debris around the house and in front of the door, exactly where he needs to be. Instead of moving any of it, we just plunk the ladder down on top of the rubble. So it's nice and secure.

Than the man who is over 80 pounds heavier than me climbs up on this ladder and I'm supposed to hold it and keep it from falling over.

Sounds like a great plan.

It was actually going fine until M came over with a bag of pretzels.

Did I mention that it was 8 and I hadn't eaten dinner and was starving?

So of course, when she offered me some I wasn't going to turn them down.

I'm scarfing down pretzels like I hadn't eaten in a million years and he's doing whatever it was that he was doing and it all seemed to be going so well.

Until he shifted his weight and the ladder rocked kinda violently.

"Are you holding the ladder?"

"Yes....kinda...mostly?"

"What do you mean, mostly?  Are you holding the ladder or not?"

"Well, M came by with some pretzels so - "

"You let go of the ladder to eat pretzels?"

"Well, yeah. They're really good pretzels. Like really good. When you get done you should have some. Seriously, you gotta try these. So good."

And that folks is how I lost my coveted position as helper...

Sleepless Beauty

I'm in a mood.

I feel cranky and irritable and not very nice.

It's because I haven't gotten enough sleep the last few days.  I'm a night owl by nature so I'm used to operating on minimal sleep - what's killing me is interrupted sleep. Which actually feels worse than no sleep at all. 

And it's all my husband's fault. 

That boy is the lightest sleeper on the planet. Once he goes to bed he develops this weird super sonic hearing and any little thing will wake him up. I swear, breathing too hard could do it. Once I was in the living room and I mistakenly unfolded a bag of chips. That was actually a mistake for a lot of reasons but I digress...He stumbles in about 2 seconds after I touch the bag, "What are you doing? What's all that racket?" And I promise  you, this was not some special extra noisy bag - those weren't on sale - this was just a regular bag of chips. A regular bag of chips That. Woke. Him. Up. 

So you can imagine how much fun I have sneaking into the room to go to bed. For a normal person, maybe it isn't so hard but I have the loudest walk. Like 10,000 elephants stampeding loud. I walk hard and heavy. And not quietly. 

It's also super fun when we have storms at night. Guess who is  up all night tossing and turning? All. Night. Long.

I, on the other hand, can sleep through just about anything. Sirens, trains, storms, a semi blowing through the living room - I'm out. You'll have to tell me about it in the morning.

You know what will wake me up though? FLOPPING AROUND!

So I'm in desperate need of a nap.

And an attitude adjustment.

Water Works

So this happened this weekend...

Yes, that would be water.

In our new house.

The water was turned on and the plumber came out to check for leaks.  We had one.  BUT he thought it was fixed.  Until we show up at the house to standing water.  And guess who isn't answering their phone?  Anyone? Anyone?

The plumber! Ding, ding, ding - we have a winner!

He did finally return our call - he was out of town and not getting calls. Which worked out perfectly for him because by the time he called I had already spent all day vacuuming it up.

And cursing him under my breath the whole time.

Wanna Be Taco

With tournaments, Mother's Day, graduation and having company we have eaten out more the last week then we usually do all month.  Seriously, it's like every meal has come from a restaurant.

That's an observation, not a complaint.

Because that means I didn't have to cook or do dishes. Yes - double win! *happy dance*

It is unfortunate though because all this eating out has brought to my attention that I've got to bump our favorite mexican restaurant.  We found this little place that I thought was going to be our go-to place.  But the last few times we've gone it's been...not so great.

This last time, it was just bad. 

I wasn't very hungry so I just ordered a taco a la carte. This is what they brought:

That's it.

Meat in a shell.

I mean, yeah I didn't want rice or beans but can you throw some lettuce in there? Maybe even a little cheese?

This...this is just a sad little shell with some brown stuff thrown in. It is NOT a taco. And don't even go there with the authentic mexican food thing...this isn't an authentic mexican food restaurant.  This is american mexican food restaurant where everything is smothered in a pile of cheese.

Except for tacos, which aren't smothered in anything.

The real deal breaker though was that the chips were burnt. I thought maybe the first time it was just a fluke thing. But no, these were burnt too. And I'm sorry but I just can't go to a place that doesn't get the chips right.  I mean, chips are like 90% of what I love about mexican food.

So the search for favorite local mexican restaurant begins now...

Biscuit Legs

So I took the cooler weather as an opportunity to wear boots one last time. I love boots.  I originally discovered this during my I Hate My Legs phase.  I have ugly legs – they are thick and unshapely. They literally look like a stove pipe. A fat, fleshy stove pipe.

Very similar to this:

Like this, only flesh. And with varicose veins.

In an attempt to downplay this unfortunate feature, I spent a few years wearing dresses that were long enough to cover the majority of my legs.  As a non-Mormon and woman under the age of 80, you can imagine how difficult it was to find cute dresses that met that criteria.

Boots were my solution. My legs were hid, the dresses were cute and all was right with the world.

I’m over all that now.

I mean, I still have ugly legs. I just no longer care that they’re ugly. I'm on to better things, like hating my stomach.

But I still love a cute boot.

So I whip out some boots and…I can’t get the damn things zipped.

I have gained enough weight that my boots no longer fit.

Do you hear me people, I'm too fat for my boots!!

This is a serious new low.

But I am wearing these damn boots!

So I decide to literally stuff myself into them. I'm just going to stuff the fat into the boots. Zip a little, stuff a little, zip a little, stuff a little. Until I finally managed to get them zipped up almost the entire way.  The last little bit required assistance from a few items I found in the kitchen but by God, they were zipped!

About 2:00 p.m. I noticed some tightness. A little squeezing on my legs. Like they were wrapped just a little too snug.  It wasn’t painful, just mildly annoying.

By 4:00 p.m., all I wanted to do was unzip those damn boots and relieve the pressure. My legs looked like a can of biscuits had exploded.  The fat was literally puffing up and over the boots. This cute look had definitely gone awry.

The minute I got in the car I unzipped those suckers. I did it so fast I had both boots done before the car door even closed. It felt so good, it hurt.

Other than an indention across the front of my leg where the boot seam had been, everything seemed fine. I went home, made a mental note to Google “Boots for stove pipe legs” and threw them in the very back of the closet.

The next morning, as I’m running the razor up my leg, I hit something hard.  What the hell?

I have my leg hiked up on the wall so I bend forward to get a close look and I see a row of blisters. Those boots were so tight I am amazed that there was enough room for any kind of friction but apparently there was…and I have the blisters to prove it.

My fat blistery legs in all their stove pipe glory

I could cry about being so fat that my boots are rubbing wounds on my legs. Or I could just decide that I’m going to burn those freakin boots while I eat a box of chocolate donuts. I'll let you know what I decide...

Observations From The Deep Side

I'm sure you didn't notice but I've been trying to do a Monday, Wednesday, Friday post. For no particular reason except that I'm trying to bring some consistency into all areas of my life.

So far, I've done...okay.

I've missed a few days and it gets a little tricky when I post late at night because if it's past midnight it's technically the next day.

Like Monday, I didn't get to the computer until late because I was busy fighting tornadoes.

Okay, actually just the threat of tornadoes.

After our zoo adventure (which was fantabulous, by the way), we picked up M and went home. The girls were outside playing, I was cleaning and the tv was off. We had only been home about 15 minutes when the hubby called about bad weather.

If you're from this state, you know to expect bad weather. I've never really freaked out about tornadoes.  They're very dangerous and can be deadly but it's just part of living here.

It's a little bit different living in a tin can though.

We had storms last week and the entire place felt like it was about to tip over - and that was just strong wind. I can't even imagine if something serious were to come along.

So I called the girls in, we packed our "survival bags" and went to the designated city shelter, aka the high school.

That was an interesting experience.

Since there wasn't an immediate threat (although it was a bit unsettling when the sirens went off. Just a warning siren but still, there is something ominous about that sound) and there were people camped out in the hallways I took that as an opportunity for some random observations.

1. I was disciplining M2 and made my "Not A Happy Mommy Face" - this is a finely crafted expression that includes big, open eyes and thin, pursed lips and words that are clipped and Spoken. Like. Separate. Sentences.

I originally signed up for the "How To Make Not A Happy Mommy Face 101" while I was still in the hospital immediately after giving birth. Everyone said it was too soon but I was determined to prove them wrong. Unfortunately, I couldn't do it. Each time I would try, it turned into the "Awwww, She's So Little & Perfect Face". The instructor gave me a disgusted look, a failing grade and told me to come back when she began talking. I was back when she was 3 and I not only passed but was asked to be a guest instructor. I have that face down. 

So during the exchange, a girl sitting next to us was watching me intently.  Without taking her eyes off of me, she says to M "Your Mom..." and I"m sure she's about to say "is mean" or something like that but then I hear her finish with "has the brightest blue eyes I have ever seen." And without missing a beat M says "Oh, you should see my Dad's - his are even brighter!"  And while he does have some pretty baby blues, I'll be signing up for that  "Hey Don't Steal My Thunder Face" session next week.

2. For the love of God, if you're a woman who doesn't wear a bra inside the house, listen up! I happen to wholeheartedly agree with you. I walk in the door, set my purse on the desk, walk directly to the bedroom, take off my wedding ring and take off my bra. Then I take a deep breath and relax. FREEEEEDOM!

So we're cut from the same cloth. I get you. But here's the rule, and it's an important one, you MUST NOT under absolutely ANY circumstances walk out of your home that way.

Don't. Do. It.

You'll be tempted. You'll dread putting the bra back on. You'll wonder if you can disguise it with a baggy sweatshirt. You might even try to tell yourself no one will notice. NO, NO, NO. Have some decency, suck it up and put the girls away.

But there are always rebels.

This rebel was easy to spot because her boobs were literally swinging. They hung down lower than mine, which is an impressive feat in itself, but apparently were light enough to kinda...float. Like with every step there was this wild side to side circular type movement somewhere around her navel. I knew I shouldn't stare but I couldn't help it - it defied gravity.

Heavy enough to hang (and hang low) but light enough to swing in circles. How? How is that happening? I was mesmerized. And severely grossed out.

And I get that we had bad weather coming in but please, you had time to grab that bra. You know you did. But just in case, may I suggest that for the remainder of tornado season, just keep one near the front door. Or perhaps in the car? Even if you threw it on over your shirt, it's still gotta be better than nothing.

3. I saw a dirty toddler running down the hall in nothing but a baggy diaper. No shirt, no shoes - nothing. He was immediately followed by an identical copy. Same thing. Two dirty twin naked babies.  It was awful. The people that appeared to be "parents", and I use that word loosely, were both fully clothed and had shoes. Lucky them.

M looked at her friend with an appalled expression and said "Oh my gosh! Did you see those kids, they don't have anything on but diapers!"

Of course, I said "Honey, let's not be judgy. We're not gonna worry about what other people do."

Oh I was 100% judging them. But my goal as a parent is to create humans that are actually better than me.

Hypocritical?  Yes.

But at least I had my bra on...

Zoo Daze

Today was zoo day with M2.

School field trips are always interesting. It's like playing Russian Roulette - am I going to get extra kids?  Is it just gonna be me and my kid?

I'm always scanning the line - that one looks nice, I could do that one. And that one. That one's okay. Oh, there's  a booger eater - yeah let's skip that one. You're fine. You're fine. That one looks like they're about to cry - pass. You're good. Good. Good.

And then you land on the one. 

You know it immediately- the "bad" kid. I know you aren't supposed to say things like that about kids but the truth is some kids are just little shits. And they usually grow up to be big shits.

Please, please, please don't give me that one. 

So this morning I was pleasantly surprised to find no easily identifiable little shits. I'm thinking I've hit the holy grail. This. Is. Perfect. There isn't a bad one here - we are set!

I'm assigned a cute little blonde girl.  I try to talk to her but she isn't much of a talker. She actually kinda looks scared. Or a little nauseous. I couldn't decide.

Just as we're about to leave the teacher pulls us over and is about to say something when she looks at the girl, pauses and asks if she needs her inhaler.  This is mildly alarming.

Then she whips out this huge mask-like device. This is not just an inhaler. It's the Mercedes of inhalers. It's a MegaDelex Inhaler 53S. The teacher turns to me with a half-smile and says "Don't worry, she knows exactly how to use this." Which is good, because I don't.  It's also ironic since she assists her throughout the entire process.

Yeah....I'm thinking this is not a hands-off type activity.

And ya know, I'm not 100% comfortable having someone else's kid to begin with. There's just something I find inherently strange about being responsible for someone else's child. I gotta watch them and keep them safe...it has the potential to get messy.

So I'm really hesitant to be responsible for one that may need help breathing.

Especially since I would not have asked if she needed her inhaler. I wouldn't have known to - I didn't see anything that would make me think she needed it.

The teacher obviously saw something I didn't, which is concerning.  You wanna send this kid with someone that's not even observant enough to notice she's having trouble?

I did note the girl didn't tell her teacher she needed it, the teacher asked her. But why wouldn't the girl ask? If you're having trouble and you don't ask your teacher who you know, are ya gonna feel comfortable asking me?

So before we get too far from the responsible adults, we kinda need to figure out what we're doin here.  What's our code? Am I asking you every 10 minutes if you need your inhaler?  Am I waiting for you to ask me for it?  Or am I just supposed to wait until you're a slight shade of blue and then throw it at you with a "Good luck, kid" as I run away to find help?

The entire time she's inhaling into this contraption I'm thinking I do not want this kid to have an asthma attach when she is with me. Despite the misconception, I am not good under pressure. If something happens, there is no calm and collected. I'm gonna freak the hell out. And then crumble into a pile of uselessness.  Crisis, mini-crisis or even anything just mildly bad - I am not your girl.

Sure I'm capable of reaching into a bag and pulling out an inhaler and giving it to her. And if you give me 10 minutes I will Google the instructions and maybe even be capable of helping her to use it. It's the worst case, what if  things don't go right scenarios that were scaring me.

And the panic must have been evident in my face because after a few bad coughing fits the teacher decided it was better the child stayed with her for observation.

I think we can all agree that was for the best.

I mean really, I'm a 40 year old woman that still likes to ride the carousal - I can barely be trusted with myself...

Take Two: Part III

I have an update on my waxing experience.

I promise this will be last time I mention anything related to my lady parts for a while. But I got a terrible wax job.

You know how I was so happy that it didn't hurt that bad? Well, maybe it should have hurt. Maybe it didn't hurt because it didn't really work.

I don't really know what protocol is but I didn't look at the salon. I don't know, besides the fact that I was just trying to scramble to put my clothes back on, it seems kind of awkward to do a self-examination while someone is standing there.

So it wasn't until I got home and checked things out that I realized things did not look so great. I look down and it's immediately What is this??

She may have been thorough with my backside but she definitely wasn't with the front. And that's the only part I care about. They are supposed to pluck out any stray hairs - and she did. Like two. Oh honey, nooooooo there was way more than two there.

And you have to grow it out to have it waxed, so it's not like they could be missed. Those suckers are obvious. And ridiculous looking.

So I ended up with something similar to this:

Pretty, huh?



*In case you don't know, that's a picture of Stimpy from the late 90's cartoon Ren & Stimpy. Which I was not allowed to watch but somehow managed to watch anytime I was at a friend's house.  It was totally inappropriate so we loved it. 

Easy Bake. Or Not.

Okay, so that was heavy.

I promise to keep it superficial and meaningless for a while to let you recover. I mean, who wants to hear about a bunch of serious stuff, right?

So this house.

First, let me just say I am grateful. I really, truly am.

You know I have to say that because everything else I'm about to say is going to sound like I'm complaining, right?

So we go to look at appliances. Two hours. In one store.

I should have known I was in over my head when the salesman asked what kind of stove I was looking for and I responded "One that cooks?"

Is there really that much difference between one oven and another? Yes. The answer is yes.

And of course I hadn't done any research prior because, well my false assumption that one appliance could boil water just as fast as another. But that, my friends, is a myth that you should not believe.  At least according to the sales guy.

There was just so much.

I spent two hours hearing about features and gadgets and a whole bunch of other things that make my head spin.  And all it did was make it worse for me because now I have more options. No, no, no! I'm trying to move in the other direction.

I walked in wanting a double oven and now I've got to decide between a double oven, wall oven and steamer combination or a wall oven convection/microwave combination.

And I don't cook enough to know what I'll use and what I won't use. And that's my concern - spending extra money on something I won't ever use.  The salesman highly recommended the steamer combination, he actually said it was a "game changer" but then also said there was a learning curve to cooking with steam. I have trouble cooking without a learning curve...so this makes me nervous.

It was a useful experience though - we narrowed it down to two brands and realized something that wasn't even on our radar.

The salesman was comparing the two brands and was telling us one was seamless - the two ovens literally sit on top of each other as opposed to the standard 2 inches between that you usually see.

Option 1: Standard space between ovens

Option 2: No space

Then he asked if I was doing side by side or stacking. I hadn't even considered (see lack of research statement above) side by side and our electrical wiring is already in so there's no options at this point - stacking it is.

Then he says "Then the seamless feature might be especially important for you." Why would that be impor...oh. Ohhhhhh.  It dawned on my husband at the same exact time, he asked "Are you saying that because she's short?" Stacked ovens and a short girl. I'll need to be able to see into the top oven, which could be a problem.

How did we not even think about that?

An then we moved on to refrigerators. You know how the new french door ones that have the freezer at the bottom and the fridge part at the top?  Really cool design - my husband really likes them. Which is unfortunate because when we opened the coordinating fridge it was immediately apparent that there was no way. I could barely reach the top shelf. I've never had that problem before but the way these particular shelves were set up - it was a no go.

You'll be relieved to know that I am tall enough to operate the dishwashers. We tested, just to be sure.

So I'm feeling a lot of pressure about these appliances, mainly because we're trying to get really good ones that will last a long time. Which means they are super expensive. And will last a long time. And that's a problem because if I get something and decide I don't like it...I'm just out of luck. I'll be stuck with it. Which my husband keeps reinforcing with his constant mantra of "You better get what you want because these are going to be your forever appliances."  Which is his way of saying get what you want despite the costs but I hear as "We're spending a lot of money so don't make a mistake in what you pick."

In case you're wondering, no the house isn't finished enough for appliances. We have to pick them out now so they know the dimensions when they build our cabinets. So we'll buy them and they'll store them for us until the cabinets are done.

We're having our cabinets custom built, which means we have to pick out everything. When we gutted the kitchen in our old house, I just went to Lowes, pointed to a cabinet that I liked and ordered it. Boom, done.

This isn't as easy.  At least for me.  My husband's like what kind of wood do you like? What kind of design do you want? I have no clue. I don't really know the difference between Alder, Cherry, Oak or Walnut. And I can't visualize things in my head, I have to actually see it.

So one of the trim carpenter invited us out to his house to see some of his work. We're driving out to his house in the middle of nowhere and I'm like is this really safe? To just be going to some strangers house? I watch too much crime tv for this...

But I'm here so I guess it was safe enough.

Actually, he was great. His wife and him were both great - we stayed for about an hour talking wood and visiting. They were both just really friendly, nice people. He then called a builder and they let us go into two new houses that were under construction so we could see some of the wood grains on real cabinets.

He also sent us to a client that had just remodeled their kitchen. Again, it was kinda weird just showing up at a strangers door like "Hi!  I'm here to look at your cabinets." But at least I know what kind of wood I like. And of course, it's the more expensive one.

So I thought of going with the cheaper one. Because really, if I was buying an existing house it's not like I would go into the kitchen and say "Oh, look at this grain! I don't like it, we're not buying this  house!" In fact, I'm not sure I would even notice that much. So really, it won't matter that much here either. But my husband said no, we're getting the wood I like and not to worry about the money.

But I am worried. Mainly because he's not.  He's lost his mind. He's encouraging me to upgrade and saying to take costs out of the equation.  Who are  you? I mean really, I don't know this guy.  This is the same man that wouldn't buy a $12.99 dress shirt because he thought it costs too much. Twelve. Ninety-nine.

I get this is our forever home and you want it to be nice but babe, we still gotta eat.

Take Two: Part II

Well, it's true...the second time really is easier!

I went in telling myself that it was going to hurt like hell.  So if nothing else, at least I was prepared.

We actually had a chance to talk this time. Last time she was busy trying to keep me on the table and I was just trying to remember how to breathe so there was no real conversation. Of course, I was trying to use the conversation as a way to distract myself.

And it totally worked. Because I had intended to tell her that I didn't want a full Brazilian. Not that you really need to know, but that really isn't the best look if you have an ugly vagina. Girls like me need a little something to help detract the ugliness. Which is why I totally get the bedazzling trend. What? You didn't know that was a thing?  Hey, sometimes a glued on rhinestone can make all the difference...

But I was concentrating so hard on what she was saying, and not what was happening, that I completely forgot to tell her to skip that area. I didn't remember until about .0002 seconds before I felt the wax being applied. Dang, I needed to keep that!

And I'm pretty sure the conversation distraction worked both ways. Because she spent a lot of time on my backside. Like, a lot. She was telling me about her ex-husband and just kept going and going. And I know that I'm a hairy beast but that hairy? Not that I don't appreciate the thoroughness, because I do.

So my rules for a successful wax are simple: prepare for the pain, mark the spot you want to keep in advance and make sure and ask about that ex!

Take Two

I'm about to go for round two of waxing torture.  

And it is a form of torture. Forget capitol punishment - just wax a hairy person for a minute or two and I bet they decide to straighten up real quick.

I should have gone last week but was too busy. I also may have been avoiding it just a little. But I'm at the stage that I can't avoid it any more. Which is about a week away from "Ummm, are you gonna take care of that?" and two weeks away from "You need to something about that NOW."  Us hairy girls can't mess around.

I'm nervous now that I know I have a reason to be. I was all "No Fear!" at my first appointment and we all know how well that went. This time I'm anticipating the pain. Which actually kinda makes it worse because my legs clamp shut just thinking about it. Natural instinct.

The Bringer of Pain, also known as the wax lady, told me it gets better, that the first appointment is the most painful. But she's getting paid by the job so of course she's going to say that, she's banking on girls like me believing her. Or being gluttons for punishment. Or buying a three pack before the first appointment. Why, why did I do the three pack?

So wish me luck. I think I'm really gonna need it.

Tax Man

2016 marks the first year I've ever owed taxes.

And not just owe, but owe big. Almost $5,000.

If that doesn't knock the wind out of you, you must be rich. 

We knew it was coming but still, that number hurts.

We got bumped into a higher tax bracket about 3 year ago. Not the good higher tax bracket where you get all the extra discounts but the bad higher tax bracket where you just get to pay a higher percentage and still be poor.

We've been saved because each year we've bought a house and the rehab cost can be written off - usually the write off is greater than any amount collected in rent for that first year so it actually comes out as a profit loss. A good thing for taxes. Honey, we have a profit loss! Yesss! Let's go to Applebee's to celebrate!

This year we spent a lot of money renovating a house but we didn't get it rented until after the new year. So we spent all that money but can't write it off until next year. Guess we won't be going to Applebee's, huh?

We also had to pay our accountant his fee - $600 smackers. Is there enough left for McDonalds?No? I didn't think so. Hey kids, ever had fried bologna sandwiches? No? You'll love them! And if you don't, better learn too, they're gonna be on the menu for a while...

Hope your tax day is a little less painful!

13

Thirteen weeks.

It's been thirteen weeks since I stopped drinking soda.

That's the longest I've ever gone in my life.

I did have one relapse. We went to see Zootopia on one of our Friday Family Fun nights and I got a soda for all of us to share. I didn't want to be selfish and get an unsweet tea since I'm the only one that likes it. I also didn't want to pay over $5 for another drink.

In retrospect, I should have gotten them a soda and a water for myself. But honestly, I hadn't thought it through so when they asked what drink, I kinda panicked and didn't even think of that as an option. I was also distracted on my phone and rushed since the movie was about to start...so obviously panicking doesn't ever lead to good decisions.

In the grand scheme of things, it's still not bad. Especially for me. I was kinda worried it would open the floodgates but it didn't.  I just chalked it up to a one time deal and moved on.

Of course, right now what I want more than anything is a Dr. Pepper. Which is why I'm writing this. I'm trying to remind myself that I've gone 98 97 days without one. I can go one more.

My goal is to complete the entire year without another one. That's probably one of the hardest things I'll ever do but that's what I have planned.

Yeah, I know - it's kinda ridiculous that something like that makes the "hardest ever" list. I know it's lame...Maybe someday I'll do something impressive like run a marathon or train for a triathlon. Or maybe even just run 7 miles.

But today, it's not drinking a Dr. Pepper.

****Amendment****
I am totally allowing myself one on my birthday. You only turn 40 once so hell yeah, I'll be drinking that Dr. Pepper.  That's really all I want for my birthday anyway...just give me a huge Dr. Pepper and a lot of love and I"ll be a happy, happy girl.

Weekend Winning

I got my house clean!

Not that it even mattered - both girls had tournaments so we were barely home. But hey, if there would have been time for an inspection, it would have passed. 

The tournaments were in different towns so we swapped Sunday. I don't know how single parents do it. There were two of us and we could barely make it. I felt like I did nothing but run kids around the whole time. 

And it sucks because the tournaments started so early on Sunday there was no time to go to church. Our church only has one service, so early service isn't an option. That did work out for my benefit though because I got a nap. I woke up, ate breakfast, visited for a while and then went right back to bed. It was super nice.

In full disclosure, that was actually my second nap of the weekend. We had about two and a half hours between games on Saturday so M2 and I rushed home and I got a nap then too. Hubby was super jealous because none of his breaks were that long. Mom for the win!

Since we were out at the fields the entire weekend it probably was not the most fun visit for our friend, but I had a great time. We stayed up entirely too late Saturday night talking. Oh my gosh, I was laughing so hard. I seriously did not want to go to bed. Man, I love spending time with people that make me laugh.

And since the weekend was busy, I needed a little perk for this Monday. How about these cute babies?  

There's just something fun about electric blue heels...

Running On Fumes

I've spent my night cleaning.

Exciting Friday, huh?

I'm not particularly fond of cleaning in general. Oh my God, that's an understatement. I kinda hate it. A lot.

Tonight's especially tough because I am dead tired. I've been tired all week. Like the completely zapped, barely enough energy to breathe, I don't want to do anything tired. I haven't been that tired since Mono Attack of 2001.

I'm telling ya, if the hubby hadn't met Mr. Snip-It about 6 years ago, I would seriously think I was pregnant.

So I'm struggling.

All I want to do is lie in bed under a mountain of blankets and sleep for days. That's reasonable, right?

But we have an out of town friend coming to visit so it has to be done. No getting out of cleaning duty this time.

Normally it wouldn't be a huge deal, I keep my house clean enough for company. Well, most the time. Okay, sometimes. Oh who am I kidding? I'm gonna need at least 24 hours notice before you stop by.

But seriously,  I wouldn't normally care so much. Especially when I'm this tired. If we're good enough friends that your crashing at my house, then whatever.

But this is different. Last time he came to visit he stayed several night with us. We didn't take off work for his entire visit, so he was at our house alone. Not a big deal, right?

Except he kept stumbling onto all my housekeeping shortcomings. Like every single one.

While we were at work, he rewired our surround sound. For the better, it was a really cool thing to do. The problem was that we had hardwood floors, which makes dust more obvious - I mean, there's nothing for it to sink in to, it just piles up. And as gross as this is, I rarely dust behind the tv. Which is exactly where he had to go to connect all the wires.

Of course, I immediately thought of that when he showed us what he had done. My very first thought was "Oh no.  I bet it was dusty."  but then I was like, "Nah, he's a guy. Dudes don't even notice stuff like that."

Oh, but they do. At least this one did. Because he told us he was wearing a black shirt and he had to change because his shirt got so dusty.

He had also had made us a cake. And I guess when he was looking for measuring stuff, he pulled out the one junk drawer I have. Out of all the cabinets you look through, that's the one you pick? Every single drawer in my kitchen is nicely organized - except the one you open.

And I know he got into my junk drawer because in the sink was the measuring cup that came with my floor steamer. Since I have a zillion measuring cups and he instead used my steamer cup...I'm guessing that was the first and only drawer that he opened.

He also happened to see the embarrassingly large pile of clothes I had tucked in my room, thinking they would be out of the way. I can't even say anything about that one. I basically have piles of clean clothes about 95% of the time. But look, there are four human's worth of clothes against me. I lose every time.

And I know it doesn't matter, but I'm convinced he thinks I'm some sort of horrible housekeeper. Quite possibly because there may have been an entire conversation about it during his last visit. No worries, hubby assured me that he did not marry me for my cleaning or cooking.

But I'm still not letting this guy see my house unless it's spotless. I don't know, I guess I have something to prove. I mean, I'm totally not a great housekeeper but I'll be damned if he knows it!

So we're bumping Friday Family Fun night and I got to work. Isn't that how everyone wants to spend Friday night? I mean, I could either let it go and crawl in bed or obsess over every little detail and drive myself crazy trying to make this place look magazine perfect.

I'll let you figure out which one I'm doing...

To The Two - Thank You

Ahhhhhh!

I just had the best workshop experience!

Our attendance has been down lately. I've been pretty bummed about it.  It seems like no matter what I do, I can't get our students to come to our workshops.

I looked at our topics, our presentations, the times - I just couldn't identify what the problem was. And it seems to have gotten worse.

So today, I had a workshop.  I had one student. ONE!

I was SO disappointed.

Out of all these students, one?!?

What the hell is wrong?

Then about 10 minutes in, another student came in.

Two is not much better than one but it's better. And I'll always take better.

During our workshop one of our graduates came into use the lab (it's shared space).  She's taking a course on our campus concurrently with classes at her 4-year.  I have an open door policy for any alum of our program - I will always try to help you and support you. I can't spend money on you but if you need to use the computer, a letter or recommendation, advice or just need a place to study, COME ON!

So I go through my workshop and it was GREAT!  They asked questions, were engaged but most importantly, it seemed like the information was helpful. And that's really the whole point of everything I do - if it doesn't help our students, it doesn't really count.

So after the workshop I was wrapping up and had to step out to grab something. When I came back into the lab the students were all talking and our alum was sharing what a great experience she had with our program and the students were talking about how much they'll use the information I presented.

It did my heart some good.

I mean, I went in disappointed, thinking "Really, I went through all this trouble to present to two?" and then...it turned out great!

It's amazing that sometimes things turn our completely opposite of what you were expecting.

The Apology That Never Was

You can tell a lot about a person by the way they say they're sorry.

And even more by the way they don't say they're sorry.

I mean, we've all gotten those, haven't we?  The non-apology apology. They're easy to identify because they're usually filled with everything except the most important part: the I'm sorry.

Why is that so hard for people to say?

That one little part changes everything; without it the message becomes self-centered and egocentric. And not much of an apology at all.

I mean, if there isn't an "I'm sorry" does it even count as an apology? Am I just making the assumption you're sorry and the rest is...what?  What is the rest?  I'm lost.

And I don't need you to grovel or beg or go to great lengths to convince me of your regret. A simple "I'm sorry" is enough. Because isn't that what we all seek in an apology - acknowledgment? Just to have our hurt acknowledged? "I'm sorry I hurt you" goes a long, long way.

So if you're apologizing without the apology, you might as well save it because it's obvious you aren't sorry at all.