Pause

I'm taking a time-out from my themed post. And why did I think themed posts were a good idea, again?

Ugh.

Not that I hate themes. In fact, I kinda love them. Themes and lists - my heaven.  But sometimes what I really want to share doesn't exactly fit into any particular "theme". Especially when they're as specific as my new year list.  Again, why did I decide to do that?

So a time-out to share...I was read!

I recently had dinner with a few new "friends". It was nice - our host recently built a big, beautiful home so we got the grand tour.  After we had sufficiently ohhed and ahhed, we had dinner. We were sitting around enjoying dessert afterwards when the host said "Yeah, I read people." Well, it took me a minute to catch on because I thought she meant she was good at figuring people out, like her intuition about people was usually accurate. So I was confused when the other woman acted really excited. I mean, it's cool to have good intuition and all...but it's not that impressive.

No. What she meant was that she could read auroras. Of course, the fist thing I did after she told me was ask if she could read mine. Not that I believe in any of that, but I wanted to see if any of it would be true.

Plus, I'm way too narcissistic to not want to know what she saw about me.

The first thing she said was that my aurora was bright purple.  I don't know anything about auroras so I wasn't sure if that was good or bad but purple is my favorite color, so I was happy. Then she said there was an energy of a go-getter, I have ambition. That I value intelligence and education. That I'm not afraid of stepping up and taking charge. And a few other things that I don't remember because honestly, she was talking really fast and just rattling them off.  Then she said "But I'm also sensing insecurity, a sense that you're not good enough."

And right then my other woman interrupts with an impatient "Read mine! Read mine!" Really? You can't wait two seconds? It just got good - let her finish!  But it was too late. My aurora had been dropped like a hot potato and she was on to talking about "orange".

Then the conversation jumped to spirits - both of them believe in spirits but our hosts claimed to be able to actually see them.  Apparently, I'm not interesting enough for spirits because I have none attached to me. The other woman's husband was very popular, as he has two that "follow" him constantly. But don't feel sorry for me - there's an older, matronly spirit that follows my children. So it's kinda like a "family" spirit. I mean, it's sorta like joint custody, right?

And as that conversation progressed, it was revealed that there had even been some ghost hunting with documentation - photos and audio. She even brought out her ghost hunting equipment for us to look at.

Of course, I was only half paying attention to any of this because I was still stuck on my aurora.  Fixated on this whole "self esteem" thing.  What? What was that about?  If you know me at all then you know if something bothers me, I can't let it go (and yes, I'm hearing that damn song right now. Curse you Disney!). It's one of my many annoying traits.

But I just had to know!  So as we were making our way into the office to hear the recording of the "ghost",  I bring it up again. She expounds a little more and shares that it's in relation to being a mom and wife.

I politely listen to the ghost recording and then the conversation turns to hauntings and casting spells and I've got to go.  It's just a little too much for me. Too much creepy. Too much darkness. It just felt like stuff I shouldn't be messing with. Almost like when you're in middle school experimenting on a ouiji board - it feels equal parts fascinating and wrong.

And of course, they live in the country on some land. Which means I'll be driving home in pitch black on back country roads. As soon as I pull out on the main road I realize I am creeped out and I call my husband.  That was good because it made me feel a little bit safer but even better, as I'm telling him about the night, everything is coming into focus and it becomes abundantly clear how much bunk all this stuff really is.

First, the actual color of my aurora. Purple is my favorite color. It's also my "signature" color - while I don't wear it exclusively, I have a lot of purple in my wardrobe. If you've seen me on more than three occasions, you've seen me wear it.  If you've seen me more than that then you've seen me wear it a lot.  More importantly, I happened to be carrying a purple purse. That in itself doesn't point to inaccuracies, except when I thought about it I realized the other woman was wearing an orange shirt. Now, it may be a coincidence, but it seems odd that both of us had items in plan view that happened to match our aurora color.

Then, what she told me my aurora revealed is no big secret.  Of course she thinks I'm a go-getter - we've had specific conversations about some projects I'm involved in. She also happens to know I work in higher education, she knows what I do for a living and how passionate I am about the importance of education. I mean, anyone on my social media pages knows that about me so it's no big shocker that it's something I value.  And then, she knows I'm not afraid to step-up because I met her through cheerleading and she saw that when I was thrown into serving as President for our parent association, that I didn't really want to but I did so for the betterment of the organization. All of that is something that anyone can say - seeing my aurora or not.

Then it struck me that I had made a comment before dinner. She had a nice, beautiful meal and I made a joke that my cooking consisted of opening either a bag or a box and referenced being wife and mother of the year. Yes, it all made sense. That's where she got the insecurity thing.

I used the term "friend" because it's the easiest way to write it but really, I don't know either of these women very well.  We have a common interest through our kids  but this was the fist time I've spent any real time with them and I don't really consider them friends. It was more like acquaintances with had the potential for friendship. So they don't really know me. Clearly, they don't know me or she would have realized that's just my humor.

So it was an interesting night. I wont' develop any friendships from it, but at least I can say I've had the experience of having my aurora read...

Don't Celebrate Or Concede Too Early

First day back at work. Much harder than I thought it would be. I was so ready – ready to get out of the house, ready to get off the couch, ready to be productive and do something.

But now it’s almost 3:00 and I’m struggling because all I want is a nap.

How appropriate is my blog topic given last night’s Super Bowl? Great game. Horrible play call but great game.  Not that I was passionate about either team – but I like games where there’s a comeback. Or a chance for a comeback. Anything besides a blowout. I like anticipation and twist.  Except when the twist leads to my team losing. Then it’s a great game with a sucky ending.

But it’s as true for life as it is for football – you never ever know what the next play will bring. I’ve been in situations that I never thought I would be in, have been given opportunities beyond what I could imagine, and have missed the mark more than a time or two.  I think you just gotta roll with it and be humbly grateful for the touchdowns and not too discouraged by the tackles. It’s a complicated dance that I have yet to master.  But I'm having fun tryin…

**Update** 
I actually went home and ran on the treadmill!  I've just recently started a running program (again) and the week off was already too much.  And it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be- my body didn't go into shock. 

In my head, being fit (working out) just comes down to time.  I know it's really more complicated than that but I always feel if I just had more time.  When husband came home I was still in my workout clothes. And I use that phrase loosely- does a sports bra and shorts count as clothes? 

In your mind, that may make you think of something like this:

But I can assure you, in reality it is more like this:

That's the kinda gap I'm looking at between the body I have and the body I want. 

Yep. It's a big gap. *sigh

I was on that runners high, looking like picture 2 but feeling like picture 1 when I proudly exclaimed 'You know when I quit work I'm gonna look like this every day when you get home, right?' Then I glanced down, saw my belly hanging over my shorts and quickly added "But not as fat."  

It was my way of telling him that I plan to use my extra time to work out. Because in my mind I'm going to have all my chores done by 10:00 and the rest of the day will be spent on exercise and crafting. 

And I literally just heard all my SAH friends collectively snicker. 

Can't a girl dream?

Lotion Makes It Almost Impossible To Use The Touchpad

Lotioning up before you jump on the laptop might not be the wisest idea because it makes using the touchpad frustrating. More frustrating than it already is. Why can't I get the mouse to move?!? Move mouse, move! And I'm furiously moving my finger in circles on the touchpad and...nothing. Banging on the touchpad (because that always helps) and...nothing.

But that's not the only frustration I've had on this laptop lately. All my spare time has been spent writing. And writing. And writing. But not fun stuff - I've been grant writing. So yeah, I've been bad about blogging but at least now you know why. I've been consumed.

Let me tell you, I never, ever want to write another grant. Most stressful, frustrating experience of my life. So much pressure - I don't know how grant writers aren't drunk all the time. I think I would have to be if I was doing it every day. Although, maybe it's different for professional writers since they aren't invested in the programs they're writing for. I don't know, I'm invested - I had the job security of three people and services to 140 students hanging over my head the whole entire time. And it's all on me.

The good news is that I'm officially done. Our grant was submitted on Monday.  The bad news is that I've been too ill to celebrate.

It hit me Sunday night but I blew it off and tried to convince myself that I wasn't sick. I woke up Monday and there was no denying it but I had to get my grant submitted so I pulled myself together and went in to the office, just long enough to get everything done.

I woke up the next day even worse and I knew I had to go to the doctor. I called as soon as they opened and got the first available appointment. I barely had the energy to breathe but somehow I convinced myself that I needed to shower before I left the house. That was a mistake. I ended up sitting in the shower in tears. I was literally too weak to stand and just felt so crummy and overwhelmed by how much energy it would take...I just didn't have it.

I don't know how long I sat there but at some point I realized I was just out of options - I had to do it. So I pulled myself up and somehow got myself showered. Who would have thought that such a simple thing could take so much out of you? I was completely unprepared for how exhausting it would be.

The final verdict was bronchitis and flu. I've just been trying to sleep it away. Today is the first day that I've felt semi-human and even so, I've spent most if it asleep.

I'm hoping in a few days when I feel better to do a proper celebration - maybe dinner and a movie? Something to celebrate the end of my grant writing days.  For now, I'm going back to bed and finding some comfort in rest.

Don't Borrow Other People's Clothes

So remember this little adventure?  

Let me tell you how that all turned out.

When I finally decided that I wanted to "perform", I knew I had some work to do. Because let's be honest - a poorly executed striptease is painful for everyone.

I was lucky enough to get a video of the striptease on my phone. Because unless you do it for a living, there is no way you're going to remember all those moves. It seems simple at the time, but later you're left asking yourself - is it grind, grind, booty pop or grind, squat, booty pop? Or wait, maybe it was grind, step, bend, wiggle, step, grind, bend, squat, slither then booty pop?

See how it can get confusing?

So for the next few weeks, I would watch the video and do the moves while I was making dinner. Once I had the moves memorized,  I was ready to move to the next step - watching myself in the pantry glass, which is kinda a frosted type glass. And that worked out perfectly because the distortion improved my moves. Significantly.

Next it was on to music selection. And then a test run with the music. Is the timing good? Can I move to this beat? And is the song going to last so I'm not stuck in the middle of a wiggle (or is it slither) and it all the sudden go silent?

And can I just take a moment right here to say this is all really a testimony to how little anyone, except for me, is in the kitchen? It's like my husband believes the kitchen has been quarantined or something. Really, honey - it's not off limits. You're more than welcome to come in and do something kitcheny anytime. You know...that thing known as cooking? Cooking. Say it with me - coooooking. Yes, that's right, cooking - it's how the food that you eat gets prepared. Very good. I know that's a lot to take in for one day; tomorrow's lesson will be over washing dishes.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should probably also note that it's pretty standard for me to listen to music and dance around when I'm in the kitchen.  So, even if one of them did happen to stumble into the kitchen by accident, they wouldn't have found it particularly alarming. My dancing around, I mean. The fact that they were in the kitchen might be a different story.

Except I just realized that makes it sound like I frequently perform stripteases in my kitchen. Sadly, I do not.  But I do dance. You know, the old, out of shape, off beat, ugly type dancing I'm famous for - that's pretty standard. I could have easily switched over if anyone ever came in. Which, we've already established, was very unlikely.

So I practice until I get it down. Or down enough. Because who am I kidding, it's never going to really look like the video. One final thing, then I'm ready! Logistics. Um, how am I going to pull this off?

Since we have kids and it's frowned upon to send them out to the car for a few hours...I had to think this through.  Their bedroom is across the hall from ours...that was out. The only logical place seemed like the living room. Their bedroom is upstairs, living room is downstairs - far enough away from them that they won't be disturbed (or scarred by accidental exposure) but close enough that we can yell at them to go back to bed won't go to jail.

The night arrives - I finally feel brave enough to do this. I thought it would be cute for me to wear one of his shirts. I don't know why, I just thought it was kinda sexy - the whole high heels and men's shirt thing...he's got like a million and one button-down, collared shirts. I grabbed the first one my hand landed on.

So I'm stationed. The music begins.  I start wiggling (or am I suppose to start with grinding?). He enters the room, takes one look at me and says:

"Is that one of my dry-clean only shirts?"

Pause

"Are you wrinkling it?"

SCREEECH.

I stop, mid motion, frozen and give him this look like "Are you an serious?" Your shirt? You're worried about your shirt? In case you didn't notice - there's a little bit more going on here beside the fact that I'm wearing your shirt...

And what's even funnier is the fact that I actually answered him. I was all, "No, it's not getting wrinkled, it's fine...I mean, I don't think so. Is it?" Because then I was all worried about the shirt.

That, people, is how you do sexy when you're old and married.

I Learned How To Make My MIL's Thanksgiving Dressing

So I already shared that this past Thanksgiving was different - in a totally awesome way! Oh. Wait. Does that sound like I'm gloating over the fact that I didn't have to deal with any of my in-laws? Because you know, I would never do that...

But it was also significant because for the very first time I cooked my husband his Momma's dressing. He loves this dressing.  I've only tried it like twice because my MIL doesn't like turkey so we don't usually have turkey. And dressing without turkey?  I mean, what's the point? And don't even get me started on the whole Thanksgiving without turkey thing...

So I had an opportunity this year to make it. I knew he would be ecstatic but if it didn't turn out - another strike on my fail list. But I decided to try anyway.

Of course, that meant having to call my MIL to get the recipe. And I know it makes me a horrible person, but that alone was almost enough to keep me from making it.

You know, I never intended to dislike her. I always had visions of having a close relationship with my MIL - sharing life events and bonding over the mutual love of the same man. It was a relationship that had so much potential!

And then I met the woman who would become mine. The very first time I was at her home, she pulled out picture of all the ex-girlfriends and showed me every single one, complete with commentary on how pretty they were, how smart they were and how much she liked them.  I wasn't sure what it meant, what kind of message it was suppose to send. It was definitely tacky but maybe she didn't know any better.  Maybe she didn't have any other way to relate. Or maybe she was trying to make me feel inadequate and jealous. Who knew? Although I kinda suspected I did.

It never got better. When we announced our engagement (with barely a response) the hubby teasingly asked her "What? You don't want us to get married?" and she responded, not teasingly "You don't want me to answer that." and I knew it was over.

I endured 5 years of passive-aggressive tension before it blew up. She got mad at something I said and went ballistic.  The woman acted like a complete lunatic.  It was the most surreal and insane thing I've experienced.  It's a sad, sad day when you feel like you're in an episode of Jerry Springer.

I pulled hubby in the next day and told him to straighten her out or else. I didn't even have to explain the what else - he got it loud and clear.  Since then, there's been no more drama.  And things are...okay. We basically just stay out of each other's way.

So I sucked it up and called her and got the recipe.  And it was an okay conversation. Except that she "forgot" to tell me an important ingredient.  Apparently she didn't remember making it at my home several years ago and sending me to the store because it was an ingredient I didn't have. Because you know, why have cooking stuff if you don't cook?

I have no idea why I remembered that. But I did, so the recipe was saved.

I survived the phone conversation and successfully made the dressing.  So I had two extra things to be thankful for at Thanksgiving.

Skinny Jeans Are Not My Friend

Can I swap something out on the list from my last post?

Totally scratch the whole skinny jean thing.  They aren't my friend but let's be honest - I didn't just discover that this past year.  I've actually known it for a very long time. Before it was even acceptable to wear skinny jeans I knew I shouldn't wear them.

This past year was simply a reminder of that. Actually, the pictures I've seen of myself were the real reminder. Fat girls and skinny jeans do not mix.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I'll still gonna wear them.  Several months from now I'll be standing in my room trying to find something to wear. Nothing I find will work. I'll furiously ransack every drawer in my dresser, pulling out clothes and tossing them manically all over the room only to discover an old pair of jeans at the very bottom.  I'll pull them out excitedly I forgot I had these!  They'd look so cute with _______(insert any random article of clothing)! I'll throw them on  I'll lay on the bed and squeeze myself into them, feeling triumphant that I actually got them zipped. Never mind that I can't breathe and I look like a stuffed sausage - they are on my body and I feel great!  Then I'm out the door, completely oblivious.

Until I see a picture.

Then it's a jolt of reality and back to the bottom of the drawer they will go.  It's my own version of the cycle of life.

So #1 on the list was a bit of a cheat.  I can assure you that 2014 was the year, however, that I discovered flannel pants. Flannel pants are the opposite of skinny jeans. We're best friends.

I don't know what my opposition to flannel pants has always been but I've never owned any.  I still wouldn't if my Mom hadn't bought them.

So now I'm officially part of the flannel wearing wife club!

Wow.  I could actually feel my level of desirability go down a couple of notches just typing that.  But I don't care! I know there is nothing sexy about flannel but they are oh so comfy.  And comfy wins.  Ohhh, there it went again.  That meter is dropping fast...

You know what's not comfy? When my thighs eat my shorts!

I hopped on the treadmill tonight in a pair of shorts I wear around the house.  Who would have thought a simple decision like that would be such a disaster?  I mean seriously, have you ever tried to stay on a treadmill while your shorts are being sucked up by your thighs?

I've had shorts do that before (it's a byproduct of all the french fries) but this was extreme.

See for yourself: *Proceed with caution

I cropped my stomach. You're welcome.

And this is after one side had already "dislodged". There was some serious scrunching up going on there...

Think I have my first lesson of 2015...

A Year In Review

My news feeds have been blasted the last few days with observations of the previous year and declarations to make this new year better than the last.  I'm not big on resolutions, mainly because I'm not very resolute. So I can't say I have plans to live dramatically different in 2015 than I did in 2014, but a new year does warrant some reflection. So let's take a look at the 14 things I learned in 2014:

1.  Skinny jeans are not my friend.

2.  How to make my MIL's Thanksgiving dressing. 

3.  Not to borrow other people's clothes. It may seem sexy to wear your husband's shirt and high heels to perform a little striptease, but be careful about borrowing his clothes. Or the first words out of his mouth when he sees you might be "Is that one of my dry-clean only shirts? Are you wrinkling it?"

4.  It's hard to perform a striptease while crying.

5.  Putting lotion on before using a laptop makes it almost impossible to use the touchpad.

6.  Don't celebrate or conceded too early. You never know what's going to happen during the last minute of the 4th quarter.

7. Kenny Rogers was right. Not everyone deserves to be part of your life.  You've got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away and know when to run.

8. I don't get motivated seeing pictures of skinny girls with flat abs and big boobs in teeny tiny workout clothes. It usually just makes me depressed.  And hungry.

9.  I no longer feel obligated. I'm definitely not as nice as I once was but I'm beginning to believe that being "nice" is overrated.

10. When a girls wants to be a princess, you let her!

11. I've been doing the self-checkout line wrong this entire time. Thank you to the random guy in Walmart who felt the need to chew me out for doing it wrong, I don't know how I would have managed without you.

12.  I'm never going to be perfect. Maybe next year I'll actually learn how to accept that.

13. The older my girls get, the more I enjoy parenthood. I miss the baby stage a lot. But I'm really digging this independent thing.  They wake up on weekends now and turn on the tv in my bedroom and watch cartoons. On their own. While I sleep. It is awesome.

14. God takes care of it all. 

My plan is to fill up 2015 with as much love and laughter as I can and I hope the same for you.  Make it a great year!