Merry Christmas!

This will (should) be short and sweet. :) 

Yes, I know I've fallen off the blogging wagon.  I should by now, have bored you to tears with posts and photos of our new house.

Alas, I still don't have the smartphone I was saving for.  House purchases were more important.  And now just when I finally have the amount I need saved up, Christmas.

Santa can't afford the measly $133 I need as a down payment, either.  Phooey. 

Yep, folks, I put bills, groceries, holidays(thus, other people) ahead of my own wishes and dreams.

Sometimes, the Karma just isn't enough to keep me smiling.


We are blessed. I know this.  I know this every morning when I walk thru my house!  MY HOUSE!  Yep, I still say it and it still puts a stupid grin on my face.
Move-in bills have kept us from having extracurricular fun for the past few months. And those stinkin' bills have kept groceries out of my house.  It's been a LEAN few months.
Thankfully I have friends a few houses down that take care of us when we need it.  And vice versa, of course.


I did Christmas cards, finally, this year.  (Lucy, I'm sorry it's taken me so long!  I love your wiener dog cards!!)
Last night, Sidewayz and I went caroling with some new friends!
We're taking care of a friends' dog while they travel for Christmas.

It's the little things, right?

Merry Christmas, beloved readers!

Next Time #307

Next time.   Next time, I will probably do things different.  At least, I hope I would.    But at the same time, every single thing that's happened to me, has shaped me.  They have made me what I am today.   Which, admittedly, isn't much, but it's still me.

I don't know what I would be, given the chance to change things.  And because I don't know, I don't know that I would change events.   Granted, some of these things are pretty terrible and should never happen to a person, but what if things were worse without these life-shaping terrible things?

You always hear scenarios like, What if Hitler had never been born? or, What if Kennedy hadn't been assassinated?  (Stephen King's 11/22/63 has a great view of this)  We have NO IDEA what the world would be like w/o the terrible things that has shaped it.  The world has learned from these events, what not to do.  Well, most of the world learned.

It bears thinking about.  It's the same in individual lives.

Had my mother taken me with her when I was 3, I might not have lived this long.  Or, I might have been horribly damaged, mentally and physically.  I love my mother and I love the flickering memories of her, but she wasn't the most stable of people and her life was not ideal in the 30odd years after she left us.  Drug abuse, mental abuse, physical abuse... Who the hell knows what my life would have been had she taken me with her.   
Mind you, terrible things happened to me w/o her, but they shaped me.  As terrible as the things were, I still had family who took care of me and I overcame things.  Those terrible things, made me a better parent.  Made me a strong woman. 

Next time.

I wouldn't wish my early childhood on anyone, but if I had a magic looking glass that could show me the many paths based on the two choices my mother had, I wonder which I'd chose.

Next time.

The great thing is, we don't remember Last Time, to help shape Next Time, so it's almost moot!

Hellooo internet!

Helloooo out there in Internet Land!    It's been some time, hasn't it?

We have been working so hard to get the house ready for all our crap.  We've cleaned and taped and painted.  We still have to agree on a color for our bedroom, and do the bathroom, but this weekend, we're getting the moving truck and getting it ALL out of the rental.

Today is the first day I've had all to myself, and I'm taking advantage of the few more hours we have internet service and a connected computer.  After this, it will be sometime late next week, I think, before I can sit down with a proper keyboard.

We've moved most of our stuff out, one car-load at a time, and we have a few more loads to go, and then the truck will take the big stuff.  That leaves me well over a week to clean the place.  Thankfully, I will only have the toddler for two of those mornings, so all should be well.  So ready to be out of this place. I've let the housework go, since we're in transition, and boy is this place unsavory! All the more reason to get the heck out!!  The very last thing to go will be the coffee pot.  Can't get any work done w/o caffeine!

Oh my gosh, I am so weary.  Even with coffee & fancy creamer, I never seem to feel rested.  Oh, and I've discovered just where I have arthritis!  :(

I had hoped to have a decent smartphone by now, so I could add photos and actually show the long distance friends/family what the house looks like, but we needed paint.  Yay for responsibility!

OK, kiddies.  This new homeowner is off to pack some more boxes & shove them in my car. 

Here we go.. 1-2-3 WHEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!

FALLing...

Today is the first day of FALL, and it is my all time favorite season.

Let me list the reasons why it's my favorite.

Birthdays:
Mine
Husband
His mom (RIP)
My mother (RIP)
Ringo the Dog
numerous Friends

Cooler temps!

FALLING LEAVES!!

PUMPKIN SPICE LATTES!  (yes, I am one of those.)

HALLOWEEN!!!!

THANKSGIVING!!

Which means the huge new family gathers, eats a ton of food, drinks a great deal of wine & beer, plays hysterical board games (or maybe it's just the added liquids that make them so hysterical?), and (this year) chooses Secret Santa names. There really are quite a few of us, now.


And also, added bonus this year:   OUR NEW HOUSE!!!

We don't sign till Tuesday, so technically, it's in the FALL!  Husband and I have plans upon plan upon plans for landscaping, painting, decorating...  I get so excited about all the plans we have, that I often lose sleep thinking about all our plans. 

If you can't tell, this is our first (and only) house and for once, we GET IT that we can do whatever we want to this house. It's OURS and every loose screw, every drippy faucet, every hair-brained idea we get, WE. CAN. DO!!!

Also, we have the rest of our lives to implement every crazy idea.  Ok, so the rest of our lives might only be 30 or 40 years, but, that's 30 or 40 projects!!!  Or, if you're like us, 70 or 80 projects... :)

So, gaps in blogging?  Look for me buried under boxes as we try to hurry-up-pack this place.  In a month? Look for me in the middle of unpacking, 3 started projects, a bottle of wine and me, crying, because I will forget that it doesn't all have to be done right away.    



 

Tracking my body size

Happy Monday, all!   

One of the things I want to accomplish on this blog is to publicly track my body shrinkage.  I'm not calling it weight loss so much, mainly because I no longer own a scale.  Every few weeks, I take my handy-dandy pink tape measure from one of who knows how many sewing kits, and I wrap it around a body part and cringe at the number. 

But, I've seen improvement over the past few months!  The numbers are getting smaller! 

I started out trying to measure every week, but that was crazy frustrating. Our bodies naturally fluctuate, and if you try to track your body every day, or even every week(unless you're on a SERIOUS regiment!) you're only going to be disappointed and discouraged, and possibly, give up. 

Maybe it's just how I psyche myself out, but I only measure on Friday mornings.  And I damn sure don't do it on a Friday near my period!  I have actually seen my weight(way back when I had a scale) jump SEVEN POUNDS (7 lbs) from one day to the next, just because the second day was a super bloaty period day.  The personal trainer my roller derby team had hired for some of our workouts wasn't surprised at this, and told me it was normal and NO, I hadn't gained 7lbs of actual weight.  Just water. I'd be back to 'normal' in a few days.

Here's my reasoning for measure days being Friday mornings.  
More than likely, I've been diligent during the week on what I do and do NOT stuff in my mouth.  Mostly this is because I'm not co-eating during the day with my husband(who is a skinny-mini and does not need to 'diet'). 
Morning is always best because your body is the shape it's supposed to be when you wake for the day.  By the end of the day, your spine has compacted and you've spread out a bit.  Have you ever noticed how your clothes (and even your bra) fit just fine in the morning, but by late afternoon, everything kind of cuts in? Like you've bloated or gained a bit throughout the day?  Or maybe you're a lucky duck and everything fits perfectly all day long.  Whatevs.  Try it some time.  Measure yourself in the morning while getting ready, and then measure yourself again when you get home in the evening. See if there's a difference.

Now, I don't know about you, but when the weekend comes, I don't stay as strict with myself. I tend to drink more beer (and hey, it's football season again!) and eat more (and worse) food.  There are many different factors for this, and most people know and understand them all. No need to detail those out!

So, I would have to assume that if I were to measure myself on Sunday night or Monday morning, I would not be as pleased with the results, thereby throwing off my mental progress, and potentially, ending my progress.  I know that if I were to measure myself right now, Monday morning, I'd be disgusted with myself. I drank quite a lot of beer (nope, not 'light' beer, either) and ate terribly tasty 'bar food' while we watched football all day.  Even right now, as I type, I'm not feeling great.

Earlier, I said publicly track my numbers.  At some point I'll figure out how to link a chart showing the progress, but for now, I'll just have to do it manually.  The tracker site I use doesn't allow for a report badge, just a weight loss badge. And, as I've said, I don't track my weight anymore. I linked to my page on the site. Feel free, if you're also on that site, to follow me, or whatever it is. Can't guarantee you'll see me much there.


I started tracking in late May/early June 2013.   I measure neck, left upper arm, waist, hips, right upper leg, and right calf.  I also track my clothing size, but that hasn't changed, so...
Here we go:
5/29 N- 18in        9/13 N-16.5in    -1.5in
5/29 A- 16.5in     9/13 A- 15.5in    -1in
5/29 W- 43in       9/13 W- 41in      -2in
5/29 H- 49in        9/13 H- 47in      -2in
5/29 UL-28.75in  9/13 UL-25.5in  -3.25in
5/29 C-19in          9/13 C- 17.5in   -1.5in

Wow. I hadn't actually looked at the math yet.  That's 11.25 inches I've lost since June.  No wonder my clothes fit better!    Now, because the clothing industry is so lame, I haven't run out to buy new clothes. I must have 7 different pairs of pants, in various styles, and they're all Size 18.  Some are too big, some are finally just right(no binding/cutting in) and some are still a tad snug/uncomfortable.  

Oh, and please note, I am a lazy LAZY woman who hates exercise. So I haven't done any.  No, really.  My teenager comes for the summer, in mid June.  I was trying some minor exercises before he got here, but getting up at 6am and making the furniture jump around due to my excessive bulk wasn't working out very well when he slept till noon.  Now that he's started school and we're moving to a sturdier hardwood floor in our new house, I can get on track. 

Who knows how many inches I'll lose when I for reals make an effort!


Hmm.. I guess I should mention what I have been doing.  I try not to each as many glutens.  Apparently, as I've mentioned in the past, I have (at least) a sensitivity to gluten.  My favorite uncle had the medical tests done and he definitely  has a problem. Not full out celiac disease, but it was making him sick. And it's hereditary.  The various symptoms he described to me, I had all of them but 2.  (i don't get a rash and I don't vomit)  So, I decided to cut out as much as a I could just to see.  Lo and behold, I lost 20lbs in a month!  That wasn't my intent, as I had no idea it also contributed to weight gain. But I did feel better, over all.   Unfortunately, most glutens are pretty damn yummy.  I love bread. I love pasta. I love baked goods.  I'm not terribly disciplined, so I haven't gone whole-hog on it yet.
But I do watch what I eat. And I try to avoid them when I can.
I've also started paying attention to portions.  I read somewhere that a portion shouldn't be more than the size of your fist.  We just happen to have little plastic containers we use when we make ice cream and they are the perfect size.  Or, about the same size as toddler bowls.  This has really helped me.  And I don't often let myself have 2nds.  And we've really cut back on our fast food intake.  This is mainly because we're on a tight budget (buying a house!) so we eat the food we bought at the grocery store instead.  You know, like you're supposed to.  Speaking of tight budget.  (and this part isn't really all that healthy) I also don't eat much when we don't have much money.  In my deranged brain, if I just keep drinking coffee and water, I won't each as much.  yeah yeah, starvation is bad, blah blah blah.  I'm clearly not starving and I do eat when I finally get too hungry.  The discipline part of this is, to not eat everything in sight or whatever the worst(read as tasty) thing in the house. 
Clearly it's working, or I wouldn't have lost 11 inches in 3.5 months!

Next step, actual exercise!  

The silence is deafening.

Howdy all.  How was your summer?  Mine?  Mine ended up being busier than I anticipated and therefore many of my normal daily tasks got shunted.  Like this blog.  :(

My teenager has officially started high school in WA.  The silence I mentioned is what is left behind in my son's wake.  Silence.  No Minecraft. No conversations about Minecraft. No more watching other people online playing the game and talking incessantly about Minecraft.  

Don't get me wrong, I miss my son every day when he's not here. I will NOT, however, miss Minecraft! 

The house is actually pretty empty right now.  My husband had to emergency fly to Atlanta on Saturday.  His mother.  She finally lost her battle with her terminal illness on Monday afternoon.  He and his brother are handling everything, side-by-side.  Messages and phone calls have been pouring in from her estranged siblings.  If nothing else, it's brought most of them together for the first time in a decade.

In other, much happier news, we are just a couple steps away from finally owning our own house!!  We're waiting on the seller to take care of some repairs and then it's ours!   Three bedroom ranch house built in the late 50s.  Hardwood floors, brick exterior.  Front deck, built on woodshop, metal shed, fenced off garden area, next to a canal (water rights!), short trail to a big park, near the bus line, AND... three doors down from our best friends!! 

I really need to back away from my enthusiasm. We don't have the keys yet!

I've been slowly packing.  No major whirlwind yet.  I'm also working on a locker-hook rug.  Actually, I started it probably a year + ago, but now that we're going to have hardwood floors, I've stepped up my work on it.

We're going to drop cable and probably TiVo, or at least go with a lifetime membership, if they still do that.  Husband never figured he'd have the service for as long as he has, or he would have done the lifetime thing from the start!  We don't watch much that we need cable (and the bill!) for.  And things end up on Netflix or various other websites, that we don't really need it.   I'm perfectly happy with the local channels and the various PBS channels. And we'll drop as much of our cell phone bill as we possibly can. Consumer Cellular is great for that.  He still has his BSU free bus pass, so that will save on gas, too.
If we really scrimp and save, I might not have to go back to full time work, just to afford the new house.  I'll look into some work-from-home things and see what will work for me.  I can do them and babysit for my friend, at the same time.

Well, kids, that about wraps up things in my life.   Hope your summer was grand and if you're a student, have a fantastic school year! 
Make good choices!

Useless Ramblings at 7:30am

Fantastic. It's been a full month since I last posted anything.  Well, I posted some nonsense on my other weirdness blog, but since it's not public... or.. maybe it is, I just never bother to check.  And I don't have it linked to anything, so it's effectively not public, right?

So, a month.  Last blog, my teenager had just arrived in town and we were on doggie death watch.   My son is still with us.  Sarah Dog is not.  It was only last weekend that we put her down.  And I think it was only that morning because when we woke up, we discovered she could no longer get outside to do her business. Nor was she cleaning herself up.  She was ready.  Thankfully the procedure was without drama.  I'd like to think I never have to go thru that again, but I know that within a year or less, we'll be there again for Delia.  Altho, we've since noticed that Delia's eyes are no longer cloudy and she has put on significant weight.  So we joke that Delia was sucking the life out of Sarah.   Yes, yes we are morbid & like to make tasteless jokes at the exact right time.  It's how we cope.  I did the same thing when I took my mother off life support and when my step mom was dying of cancer.  I don't do it with people outside the 'know' of my family, so don't be alarmed if we ever get close enough for you to share something terrible with me. I won't suddenly bust out with Bobcat Goldthwait impressions or anything.


Our plans for the summer were limited due to a dying dog and, well, cuz we ain't rollin' in the dough.  My son immediately found a local friend (a girl!) and figured out the bus system to find his way to her.  We did the parental meetup thing, the little girl has been over a couple times. Sweet kid. Amazing artist. But, she's 14, and as teenage girls are wont to do, she and her mom got into it, and then she was grounded from going downtown. No place else, from what I understand.  Which, is SO not how restriction worked when I was growing up. 

When I got grounded, I was GROUNDED.  No phone, no TV, no going out to meet my friends.  (no computer in my home, so that wasn't an issue.)  Didn't really bother me all that much, as I was a homebody anyway and preferred to spend all my time in my room reading and listening to music. And making mixed tapes. From the radio.  It was hard trying to catch the whole song and hopefully the DJ didn't talk into the song!  I asked my son the other day if he knew what Wil Smith did before he was an actor.  He knew about Fresh Prince of Bel Air, but he had no idea that 'Fresh Prince' was a musical name. (or.. whatever you call it...?)  I of course got the 'weird mom' look from him when I explained who it was and what they did and then the part about recording off the radio on to cassettes. 
I remember looking at my parents weird when they would talk about things they did as a kid.  Now I get to experience the other side of the look!  It's great! I am so flippin old!  :)

Anyway, my son's summer romance has significantly cooled and I am cool-mom enough not to text her mom and ask what's going on.  Yes, it did occur to me, but then I thought out the scenario and realized, if he wanted to pursue her further, he'd make more of an effort. And he doesn't want to talk about it, so, I dropped it.  But it was cute to see my teenager with a girl.  I hadn't ever experienced it, since he lives with his father and this girl is the first friend he's made here in years.  So, he's back to his old ways of sleeping all morning and then spending the most of the rest of his day playing Minecraft.  At least he showers regularly, on his own. And he even does laundry.

Tomorrow I start babysitting on a schedule for one of my mamas.   Little girl just turned 3yo and so is the perfect age for me to start her pre-preschool training!  I started my son on phonics when he was 3, so, perfect!  And I have way more resources now, and more time.  I'd like to hope I have more patience, but we'll see. :)  Plus, it's some pocket money for me.  Which I need to save up for my dad's bday party end of next month.   I booked the hot-springs pool for a few hours and it's going to cost $180 or so.  Which is my present to him, no matter what his new wife wants to think! (along with a habanero pizza from our local hippy-dippy pizza place.  That Adam guy who used to travel around eating the giant meals... he came here and had some of our habanero pizza for his show.  You can only get them in August and you have to sign a waiver before you can have the pizza.)
I'd really love to have the money for a smartphone so I can start taking photos again and maybe actually have things to put in my blogs other than useless ramblings. But, I am nothing if not responsible in my old age.  We're also living on the super cheap as we try to sock away money for all the application fees and inspector and whatnot associated with buying a house. We only have about a month or so to find one we can afford and jump on it.  So, effectively, no money for anything.  Good thing we have cable and internet and books and boardgames!

Let the Beatings BEGIN!

OK, no not really. But my teenager is here for the summer now.  At his size, I'm pretty sure the only beatings will be in the games we play. Darts, various board games, Wii games...  

I say size because my teenager is well over 6 inches taller than me.  And since he's eating more, I'm pretty sure he will have another growth spurt this summer, or shortly into his Sophmore year.  Right now, he's only about an inch taller than last summer.  But he's also notorious for hardly eating.  My son is about as bad as a supermodel, when it comes to his eating habits. Hopefully minus rumored purging.  So, with his (what should be) normal teenage appetite, I will predict my son to hit 6ft this summer or shortly after he returns to his father.  And potentially exceeding that by a good 3 inches.  And since he has my genes, he might very well finally pack on some weight and be a good sized man.  My great-grandfather was 6'4" and pushed close to 300#.  Big burly Missouri farmer.

In other child abuse news, I didn't recognize my own son when he came thru the security doors at the airport.  See, for  the past 4 years or so, my son has had a buzz cut.  His father wouldn't allow any other hair style for him, after I was out of the picture.  Which is totally hypocritical of my ex, since just a couple years before we split up, he'd had a 3 foot ponytail cut off and donated to Locks of Love.  3 full feet of ginger hair. All natural.  He took his brother's idea of growing it out when he got out of the military.  His brother, last I saw him, still had a long scraggly ponytail.  My ex's was thick and luxurious.  So why he forced my son to get buzz cuts for years, I can't explain.  Wouldn't have been my choice.  

Fast-forward to Friday afternoon sitting in the Boise Airport anxiously awaiting a glimpse of my son, and he had to practically walk up to where I was sitting before I realized it was him.  He now has the surfer/skater look(depending on how old you are, you might remember it as the SoCal surfer look of the 70s/80s or the skater look of the early 2000s) but with curls at the ends.   He tells me his dad will probably demand he get another buzz cut before starting school, even tho I've heard "out of the eyes and off the collar".  Well, I can accommodate that!  To within the barest minimum requirements! 

His hair doesn't look bad at all!  I just didn't expect it.  And it's a much darker blonde than I'm used to. And with curls!!  Ahhh, teenagers.  I know, I know, 'post a picture...'  I can't.  It's not my face I'd be posting on the interwebz.  Last I checked, he doesn't even have his pic on his FB page.

Am I a bad parent for telling my son to willfully disobey his other parent?  Here's the situation, as told to me by my teen.( I have yet to corroborate with the ex on this one.) 

My ex has been forcing my son to go to church.  This was a shock to me, as my ex was never a church-goer when we were together.  His parents didn't even go to church.  His father was raised Mormon, but for whatever reason decided not to continue.  It's not a Mormon service he's attending, but I don't know why the sudden churchiness.  It wasn't like this 6 months ago.   
Fine, no biggie if my ex has suddenly found the need, but why would you force someone to go?   To me, that falls under religious intolerance.  I was never forced to go to church.  When I was little and we lived in the south, I decided I wanted to go to Sunday school.  There aren't too many choices other than Baptist when you live in the South.  At least not where we were.  And the bus came by to pick up the kiddies!  It was my choice, and eventually, I decided it wasn't for me.  My parents didn't attend with me, I didn't attend because of them.  My choice.    When I was married to the ex, we never went to church.  Maybe ( a very very strong maybe) for weddings or funerals, but not once did we get fancied up on a Sunday morning and attend a church. 
My son has no desire at this point to attend a church.  He doesn't get anything out of the service.  He has no problem studying the various main religions, and has, in fact, read various religions' texts.   Apparently this isn't enough for the ex.  He is still demanding my son attend.  Teenager and I discussed him getting out of the house early so he's not around for church.  I am all for him disobeying his father on this one. 
You should never, ever force religion on someone.  Most likely, you're just going to ruin the possibility of that person ever wanting to come to your religion.

Kids who have always been raised in the church(any church) are used to it and don't know any different, mostly.  I don't consider that forcing the person.  If that child ever decides they don't want to attend anymore, or they chose another path, then let them go and find their own path. 

We even went far into the tangent of "if it gets bad enough, you can always live here."  Again, something I've never, ever tried to influence my son on. Which parent he wanted to live with.  And now, at his ripe old age of 15, it can be discussed w/o influence.  He knows what he wants and what he doesn't want.  He's very well established with friends and school.  It would take something extreme to make him want to move to Redneck Central, Idaho. :)  (I love where I live. I just know it's a far cry from the ideals of most anywhere on the West Coast.)


So, back to the question, am I a bad parent for telling my son to willfully disobey his father in this?

Summertime Blues

I don't even want to blog today, but it's been too many days.  I might not get started again if I let it go on too long. 

Summer is starting.  My teenager will be here in a few days to spend his summer with the rednecks in Idaho. He lives somewhere else, a little more high-falutin'.   Normally this would put a smile on my face and a spring in my step.  I miss my son when he's not here and I feel more complete when I can get him to allow me a hug.  I say normally.  And I am super glad he's coming.  I don't have any concrete plans for the summer, but I am glad he's coming. 
And, we're probably moving this summer.  We've finally been pre-approved for a home loan!  Soon I get to buy MY OWN HOME!!  Undeniable joy!
GOOD things coming for the summer!!


But the reason my title and my mood are so dreary:  we have two old woman dogs who are on their last legs.  One of which came on very rapidly.  Two weeks ago, Sarah was just an old, creaky dog.  Now, she's effectively totally blind, mostly deaf and won't eat anymore. The other old woman dog, Delia, is just as blind and deaf, but hers has been gradual and she has learned to navigate her surroundings and you can barely tell she doesn't have all her faculties. And D still eats.  No matter how I fix the dog food: water to make 'gravy', warm water to soften faster, warm milk for extra flavor, various people flavors to coat the food.... No mind, she won't eat.  Oh, she'll eat the cheese we toss her way. Or the bread scraps.  But, as much as doggie parents KNOW that people food isn't ideal for the health of our doggies, we still do it, at least in moderation.  In Sarah's case, since that's ALL she will eat, we don't want to screw up her system too badly.  She's already having issues when she can navigate out to the yard. A friend suggested wet, canned food.  Great idea!  Except, with Sarah's already fragile system, we don't want to cause discomfort by changing her diet so drastically. And she is so skinny.  I can see her ribs.  Trust me, we try to feed her. Even so far as to put her bowl full of yummy nummy warm milk soaked food in front of her nose where ever she's laying down.  Nope. 

Sidewayz was certain she wouldn't last the weekend. I'm not sure she'll make this whole week.  Speaking of this week. Did I mention my son comes in on Friday?  I can't decide if it would be better for him to see Sarah one last time before she goes or for him to remember her as she was.  Just a few months ago, when he was here for Xmas, Sarah was a crazy old dog who would still pin the puppy on his back in their play attacks.  We're not taking Sarah in to have her put down or anything. Unless she's in screaming pain, of course.  But, so far, she's just doing the rapid old age decline. 

We usually go camping every summer. At least once, but every few weeks would be ideal.   Sidewayz and I have already decided that because Delia is so old, we can't take her for a weekend in the sticks and we can't leave her all weekend.  Sarah wasn't even a factor in this conversation a few weeks ago, as she was still going strong.
Goodness. As I type this, she stands at the open back door, debating on braving the step, porch and yard.  Apparently not.  She just went back to her safe corner.  Her balance is shot, too.  She does the doggie shake of her head and damn near falls over.  I think she has a brain tumor, for all this to be so sudden.  And at 16, it's best to let her live out her days as she wants.

Sidewayz babies these two old women.  Gives them (mostly) anything they want.  See, he was lost in the mountains some years back, before I met him, and these two sweet dogs saved his life.  For reals.  Three days he was lost. Full on search parties, helicopters and everything. Don't worry, he learned his lesson. He now has just about everything survival you can have, that will fit in your pockets. And on a pack on a dog. So, because they saved his life, he has a special bond with them.  It's really tearing him up to see his old ladies at this stage.

(looking at my semi-lengthy post) I didn't want to blog today because I'm in a bit of a dreary mood, but clearly I had something to say.  Sorry if I brought you down to my mood.  Kind of why I didn't want to post today.  Not real keen on being a downer for others.
Oh and on that same note, this is why there will be no photos in this post.  I refuse to take/post pics of the old dogs. Eventually there will be a photo of the young, healthy girls, but not today.

5 Things I Don't Like About Myself

In honor of Frank's blog on Glipho,  here are my 5 Things.   And I deliberately didn't read anyone else's lists, so as to keep my own list pure.  (Thanks Frank!)


1) I am so flippin LAZY!!



I would so much rather play Sims3 all day long, even leaving the game running as long as it can before an event pauses the game.  I would rather sit for hours watching drivel, than unload and load the dishwasher.  It's not like I even have to HANDWASH the dishes.   Sometimes I see little funny meme's on Pintrest (oh, don't get me started on the hours I can spend on Pinterest!) that say something like: Go out tonight? Oh, but I've already taken off my bra, sorry.
TOTALLY ME.  How hard is it to put a bra on, (guys, don't answer that one!), brush your hair and put some clean clothes on, so you can sit and be lazy at a friends' house?


2) I have NO WILL POWER!!
 

I am supposed to be cutting down/out glutens, as I have a sensitivity.  I don't know if it's a full blown issue with glutens, as I don't have health insurance, and therefore haven't been tested.  I'm only going off my Uncle's findings about himself, and as it's genetic... We don't have parents/grandparents from that side of the family to ask questions about their health, so, we have each other.    The no-will power part?  Glutens are yummeh.  And, my husband, the famous Sidewayz, clearly doesn't need to restrict his diet.  Freakin' Jack Sprat.  Shut up, I know what you just pictured/heard in your head.   If I try really, really hard, I can stick to a 'diet' for ... well, I've done it for a month.  Back in January 2010 I went off sugar for a whole month.  I loves me some sugar!  I have managed to be more aware of my gluten intake. And, altho it wasn't part of the goal, (cuz I had no idea) I did cut WAY down on the glutens starting last Easter, and I lost 20#s in a month.  That was last Easter.


3) I can snap to ANGER so fast!    
    



Something I am working on.  It usually only manifests with the loved ones who know the right button to push, even if it's unintentional. Like a husband or a kid. :)    I have learned to recognize it quicker than I used to.  And I apologize for it. I never used to.


4)Women issues as I get older.  You might think, if you yourself don't experience them, 'but that's natural, how can you hate this about yourself?'  You might be correct, I don't know.  There are many, many women who have the same issues I do. And many, many who have it WAY worse.  To me, it doesn't matter if this is the way it's supposed to happen(I don't think it's supposed to be this way!), I still hate it.  The pain, the misery, the migraines, the.... well, I won't go into gory details. I do have male readers! (You're welcome!) Oh, and early menopause symptoms. What the fluck, Chuck?   I'm only in my 30s. Granted, it's the down slope to 40, but it's still really early!!


5)I can't seem to stick with something long-term.   I put many things in this category.  I'm hoping to change this as I go.  Like blogging.  I really hope I can stick with it longer than a few months.  And exercising.  Keeping up with my self-appointed lists of things to do.  I think #5 goes hand-in-hand with #1 & #2.


I'm not counting body issues.  Every single person in the free world has issues with something about their own bodies.  I say free world because, honestly, people who aren't free, have way more issues to worry about than a flabby butt. 


There are way more things I DO like about myself.  Or at least am at a point in my aged life where I can come to terms with things.  Another post for another day.

#160 Becoming

I know I've been away for a bit.  I have some health issues that escalate as I get older.  Unfortunately they can take me out for a while.   Nothing to compare to those with chronic illness, but it saps me nonetheless.  My poor kitchen right now!

Never fear.  Today I rose at the self-appointed time, took care of some things, and then jumped right into my own little morning workout. I even started incorporating an arm workout.  And now here I sit, blogging away. 

Today's topic is Becoming.  This can be interpreted a few ways, I'm sure.  Heck, a really creative person could turn it into a great story.

As I get older, I find that I am BECOMING, in some ways, less tolerant.  I just don't care to (and so, don't!) put up with bullspit.  Be it from friends, neighbors, loved ones, internet acquaintances, politicians, people in the public eye...  I don't HAVE to put up with it, so therefore, I don't.  I'm also not as gullible as I used to be.  As a kid, I used to believe just about everything I was told.  And that in turn made me tell weird stories that couldn't possibly be true, but dang it, I was sticking to my story and too bad if you didn't believe it.  Would have been nice had that not been 'corrected'... I could have been a great storyteller/writer.

I also (hope) I am BECOMING a better wife.  Now, I know many of the women who will read this, will think I'm backwards and 'what about all the work millions of women have done to rise above...' Yep. My choice is backwards from all those women who fought so hard to get OUT of the kitchen and into the equal workforce.  I had my time in the equal workforce.  And before some of you think, "oh, sure, office work = equal.'  I worked construction.  I was in a union and I worked my way through the apprenticeship, 2 nights of school a week while working full time on the job, daily.  I worked and sweated my sizable ass off next to, and often faster than, the guys.  I got my Journeyman's card. I was in charge of crews and projects.  I was the go-to person when Nintendo of America needed new high-speed data cables pulled in.  I made myself on-call, since I lived 5 minutes away.  I paid my dues. Literally, when it comes to unions. 

Let me tell you, for those who've never worked construction-- it sucks.  The work is hard.  The winter wind, when working outdoors or in a structure with no windows/walls, is bitingly bitter and cold.  When you're the only woman on the crew, you do have to put with with some stuff.  I will say that I only ONCE experienced true sexual harassment, well, twice, but one of those was a dumb kid who thought he was being funny.  I handled that one personally.   ( I am not a shy violet and have no problem getting physical when it's called for.) The other time, I said something to my crew chief.  The person in question wasn't just in charge of the crew that day, he was also an instructor at the apprenticeship AND a leader in the union.  Let's just say, it's incredibly inappropriate to 'spank' a female crew member with some of the tools of the trade, as she bends to reach the job at hand.

So, yeah, I've paid my dues in the working world.  I've also worked in an office.(something I yearned for while I was the dirty construction worker!) I've been a lead for a crew of some of the most immature adults I've ever met. Working under some leaders who deliberately have blinders on. Working for a company who refuses to pay the people what they're worth, or even for the scope of work they are doing.  And many of those people know they are (still) being taken advantage of, but 'because of the economy', just stick around being taken advantage of, barely surviving.  I finally had enough. I quit/was pushed out just after the holidays.  Perfectly fine by me. Now I can stay at home, clean my house, learn to cook properly, get back into shape and generally, do what I want.   Funny part of that story-- my husband now works for the same company (again) that I just quit.  That part isn't funny----this is.  He is basically doing the same job I was doing, but does NOT have to put up with a crew who still acts like they're in Jr. High.  And he makes almost 2.5 TIMES as much as they were oh-so-generously allowing me to make.   

I BECAME less tolerant of that place. Less tolerant of the asinine antics of the co-workers. I BECAME less likely to put up being taken advantage of.

I want to BECOME a better housewife. I want to BECOME a better cook. (my mom's mom never taught her, as she was raised in a convent and I don't think you learn to cook in a convent... correct me if this is incorrect!) I would have loved to BECOME a new mommy, but that's not in my stars, so I have to BECOME a better absentee parent to my teenage son. 

So, even at my (feels like) considerable age, I am BECOMING something more, something different, maybe even, something better.

Hoo-Ha OUCH!

I don't know where this little story originated, but I know I posted it on my myspace page a zillion years ago and it got great responses, so I thought I'd try to find it again and post it here. 
Really sorry if this is YOURS.  Please let me know so I can assign a proper name to it.

Ladies, get ready to cringe and laugh your hoo-ha off!  (remember, this started circulating probably 10 years or more ago..so it's probably a tad dated.)



All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal - The epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now...the wax.

My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: "Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet." So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom.

It was one of those "cold wax" kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK!?!)

So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. ("Cold wax," yeah...right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works! OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me. I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.

With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the one strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my *hoo-hoo* and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (Yes, it was a long strip), I inhale deeply and brace myself....RRRRIIIPPP!! I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!....OH MY GOD! Vision
returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. Another deep breath and RRIIP! Everything is swirly and spotted. I think I may pass out...must stay conscious...Do I hear
crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe...OK, back to normal.

I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip! There's no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???

Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I am touching wax. I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair.

Then I make the next BIG mistake...remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down. I hear the slamming of a cell door. *Hoo-hoo* Sealed shut! Butt?? Sealed shut! I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself "Please don't let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off!"

What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!!! I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right??? WRONG!!!!!!!

I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit. Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub...in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax.

So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain.

God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom.
I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter--"So, my butt and who-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!"

There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, "Are we talking cheeks or who- ha?"

She's laughing out loud by now...I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. Right!! I should be the joke of someone else's night.

While we go through various solutions. I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better then to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off.

By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.

My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace....the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY GOD! The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend.

It's sooo painful, but I really don't care. "IT WORKS!!" I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair....THE HAIR IS STILL THERE.......ALL OF IT.

So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point. Next week I'm going to try hair color. . .

Oh, for the love of....!

It's been a few days, I know, but here I am.  We all need breaks from the computer from time to time.

As I've mentioned, Gramma is in a nursing home because of her dementia.  This past Saturday, I met up with my dad and V(his new wife) at Gramma's little apartment, and we began the task of packing up her stuff.
 
O_o

Even in a tiny little one bedroom place, that woman has a LOT of crap!  OK, not all of it is crap, as I will lay out here in a moment.  But she IS a hoarder.  Her HOUSE is going to be a monumental task. Yes, there is still a house full of stuff-- like 50odd  YEARS of STUFF.  Did I mention she's a hoarder?  Not the shifting mountains that could fall and kill you, like in the 'reality' show, but...yeah.  She is a shopaholic, and then will let the items stay in the shopping bags, tags still on them, receipts still in the bag... and it just accumulates. 

In the spare bedroom alone, I bet (and someday I will test this!) you can 'dig' down thru the decades.  Put it this way. My biological mother left me when I was 3 yrs old, and Dad got the uncontested divorce probably a year later.  There are STILL some of my mother's clothes hanging in that bedroom closet, TO THIS DAY.  Mom left nearly 35 years ago.  No, really! 
There is a bed in there.  Can't see it.  There's some sort of faded area rug in there.  Can't see it.  In fact, there used to be a path from one door the other(as it was a shortcut to the bathroom from the living room) but no longer. Can barely open the one door anymore. 
And we have to sort thru ALL OF IT, some day.  Can't just toss it all in garbage bags(mildew damage--the roof leaks and the house has been unoccupied for at least 4 years) because Gramma likes to hide things. 

For instance, Gramma closed her bank account and drew out all her money about 6-8 months ago.  There is apparently still $1000 or more missing. Cash.  We have no idea if it's stashed and hidden somewhere in the apartment, or if she spent it and can't remember(easily!), or if it was pocketed by someone visiting her(nurses, therapists, house cleaners... who knows.)  In this economy and this low-income area, that wouldn't surprise us at all.  $1000 can go a long way to pay bills or feed your kids. 

The point is, we can't just chuck it all.  We have to sort it all.
My husband, Sidewayz, began sorting thru little containers and cups and things on the table(a horizontal surface!) because, being a stasher himself, he knew not to discount what he could see on the surface.  He found jewelry mixed with those squarish plastic bread ties.  He found a cup full of change, mixed with sewing pins.  He later, luckily, found an old cigarette case, (picture coin purse with the clasp on top, but a long purse) half full of silver dollars.  This was under the bed.

She also is an artist.  She has (as far as I am concerned, ALWAYS) painted.  Oils & acrylics mostly.   Being the only granddaughter, I am slated to inherit quite a bit of stuff.  This typically means after someone passes.  Well, art supplies don't store in one of those outdoor storage places very well.  So, everything artsy was loaded in my car and now I get to look like a hoarder. :)

But it's fine. I've been wanting to get back to art for a long time now. I've been out of practice for far too long.  Now I have an easel, about 10 different canvases (sadly, some are grimy with dust), countless paint brushes, pastels, charcoal, colored pencils, frames, and other art mediums I can't even list yet, as I'm not sure what they do. :)  I'm set!  Oh and paint.  AND a serger? surger? machine.  I don't even know how to spell it, let alone use it, but it's mine.  Not to mention, once we start on the 'big house', a once-state-of-the-art sewing machine.  (that will make 3 separate sewing machines for me, AND the se/urger. :)

I'm looking around and thinking I will need a 4 bedroom house just to hold my inheritance.

So, yay! I get to start painting and drawing and other artsy things that I never have the money for. That's the main reason I haven't been doing artsy things these past too many years.  The cost!  But now I think I'm set for a few years. But watch, I will find myself out there buying something I need for a project.  Apple doesn't fall far from the tree. 

Oh, and some day, I will have a decent phone/camera so I can post photos like a real blogger.

#148 Going Home Again

Funny that this is the topic for the day in 'A Year of Blogging Ideas'. 

Before I looked for today's topic, I was looking at the new Google Maps this morning, since I get to test it out a little early.  Of course, I looked at my own address.  I found that the current photo was taken in Sept 2012, and in our driveway was our little blue Jellybean!  The one that was totaled this past Christmas night in a rollover accident.  :(
(Don't worry, we're all fine. All parties involved walked away from the crash!)

I also attempted to find where my dad and I used to live when he and my step-mom got married. 30 years ago.  That was such a long time ago, I only have a vague recollection where the spot is.  It was off a logging road in the Idaho mountains. Well, they're mountains to me. And of course, it was a dirt road, no set house or foundation.  I can only guess for now, until I get my dad in front of the map and have him show me. 

I also commented on a blog post about moving coast-to-coast. Which I've done. A few times!


In 2007, I was in a really low place in life.  I'd just gotten divorced, was in a rebound relationship that was turning bad, I was living from place to place to place to car.  The rebound turned abusive (and I was low enough not to drop him immediately) and I really needed to get out.  A trip to Vegas for a week with about 1000 rollergirls was a much welcome escape from reality. It was RollerCon. It happens every summer in Las Vegas. In fact, I think it might be going on right now or starting this weekend.  You want to party with more Rollergirls than you can dream of?  Head down there for RollerCon!!  Derby girls know how to party!

Anyway.  On the drive back (Vegas to Seattle(ish) is a LONG drive in the summer!!) we stopped in Idaho and had breakfast with my mom and dad. There I found out my gramma was going to have back surgery soon and would need in home care.  DING DING DING!!!  A way out of my shit life in WA!!

A month later, I packed up everything I couldn't stand to discard into my little teal Ford Ranger, and I high-tailed it over the mountains.  I drove into my gramma's driveway on 9/11/2007.  It was a Monday. 
I left my son behind, as his father has custody, but honestly, living on couches, in basements, in hotels(don't do it!), out of my truck... No place for a little boy. He had a steady home with his father and that's what was important after the turmoil.  Of course I see my son.  In fact, I'm sure I will blog something about him in a few weeks, as he will be here for the summer. He's a teenager and WOW is he a teenager!! Not to mention about 8 inches taller than me.

I miss my friends back there, but I've never looked back.  This is home. My dad, my mom(before she passed), my gramma.  Home.  I felt it as soon as I smelled the air.

And, 19 days after rolling into town, I met Sidewayz, and we've been together ever since.

This is Home. And unless the country totally collapses, this is where I'll remain.

Say my name, say my name.

Write about your first name: Are you named after someone or something? Are there any stories or associations attached to it? If you had the choice, would you rename yourself?

My actual first name is Katharine.  With an A. Not an ERINE.  I was named for my mother, Catharine, and this classy lady.
                                        
                                          
I don't know exactly why.  My mother never told me.  Also, both of my grandmothers, who had never met (and I don't think ever did), upon hearing of my upcoming birth, wanted me named with something angelic.  So, I got another long name.  Angeline.  Thus, for a while, I was Katie Angel.  As only grandmothers can call you! ONLY GRANDMOTHERS!!

I have never come close to achieving the level of grace The Great Kate had.  But that's ok. I do have her stubborn streak! :)

Now, would I rename myself? Nope.  I probably wanted something more popular when I was growing up. I mean, Katie didn't compare to Jennifer or Kimberly.  I think I remember wishing my name was Kimberly at some point.  Good thing I didn't have a say in it back then!  I like my name.  I shortened it when i was 18 and away from home for the first time.  All the girls I was hanging around with at the time did.  Mine just happened to be pretty unheard of, at least in my world in 1994.  The only person I'd heard called Kat back then was Christina Ricci in Casper! (and no, I didn't change it to emulate her.)  Now, of course, Kat is all over the place.  Oh well, no big.  Looking around me, I'm older than most of them, so I had it first. NYAH!

I just wish I were destined to look this good in my 90s.

                                 
                              Katharine Hepburn  May 12, 1907 - June 29, 2003 (aged 96)

When our loved ones get towards the end of life.

This is a difficult topic to post about.  Most bloggers these days are still years, possibly even decades away from facing this.  But make no mistake, we all have to face it, if we have elderly loved ones.

I just got a phone call from my dad, giving me an update on my gramma.
We've known for a few years now that she struggles with completing sentences.  It started off as an elusive word here and there in her story. Not to mention telling the same stories over and over and over again, but, that's kind of what happens when you get into your 70s+ and you don't see someone every day. You have stories to tell!

Now, however, Gramma can't complete any sentences, mostly.  And you can see the utter frustration in her eyes.  Unfortunately, that frustration now often turns to anger. And then to downright pissed off, don't you dare talk to me, just leave!  Gramma is a sweet southern lady from Missouri, and when she's mad at you, she turns away. Instead of yelling or telling you off, she turns away from you.  A pretty obvious dismissal, and in the nicest way possible!

I think she's been officially diagnosed with dementia.  She has been living in an independent living facility, which is basically just a low-income apartment, where you can call for help if you need it with one of those call cords.  Great idea, if you're prone to asking for help.  Not Gramma!  No sir!  She prefers to suffer in silence! As evidenced by a fall she took about a month ago.  She didn't have her cell phone on her, which I  personally fitted with a ribbon to go around her neck, like a lanyard. But does she keep it on her?? NOPE.
When she fell, she couldn't get to any of the call cords, of course, because she'd piled so much of her possessions IN FRONT OF THE CORDS.

Are you shaking your head yet? Yeah, me too.

So, no one found Gramma on the floor in her apartment for TWELVE hours.  And that was only because my dad was supposed to take her to a Dr. appt. that morning. When he couldn't get an answer on her phone, he raced down the canyon.  That was a few nights stay in the local hospital. At that point, we found she couldn't remain in independent living.

Just a few days ago, Dad got word that she wasn't eligible for assisted living, either, which was the next step. Her dimensia is too pronounced, with her agitation and all, because even tho it's assisted living, it's not round the clock care.  So, unfortunately for Gramma, she's stuck in a nursing home.  And what's really going to get up her duff... she has to share a room with someone.
 
Bless her heart, she still assumes she's going to get better any day now. She thinks she's going to drive her Cadillac again.  She thinks she's going to go back to college and complete her art degree. (she hasn't been back to school in almost 10 years) She talks about her painting and sculpting again.  Last time I visited with her, she even talked about helping me landscape my new house(once we get one).  I say 'talked about', but what I really mean is, she often says, "once I'm better, I can...." and that's where it stops, but since it's in response to whatever the subject is, I know what she's wanting to say.  I've been hearing "once I'm better" for 6+ years now.

I love my Gramma. She raised me for 4 or 5 years when my mother left me. I started school when I lived with her.  Because of her, lots of elderly people in her little town STILL remember me as "Little Katie".
It breaks my heart to see her like this, lost in her own brain.  It breaks my dad's heart even more.  And it breaks my heart to see my dad have to go thru this. Even tho he's the younger brother, he's stuck doing EVERYTHING when it comes to his mom.  His brother does NOTHING. And he & his wife, live in the same town as Gramma!  None of the rest of us live closer than 30 min away.

Don't you wish you could pick your family?   Ask my cousin some day about his bio-dad. Whoooee, the rants we have together!

So, if you're still young enough that you haven't faced death of family, or faced the impending end of a loved one, take all this to heart.  It's no picnic, and you'll hate having to deal with it, but if you're any kind of decent human being, you'll step up and just make do. You kind of have to.



This is Gramma and I at my backyard wedding, 1/1/11

Getting too old for this...

Blurk.  Hangovers and recovering from a night out. Again, I say blurk.

Clearly I am too old to party like that anymore. Yesterday was spent very carefully doing not much. All day. I even took a nap in the afternoon and slept till after 9!  Then wen to bed around midnight or 1, and slept till 8:30 this morning!  At least I feel better today.  I even did Day3 of the exercise plan I'm attempting. Today was 40 jumping jack and 20 crunches.  There are 90 days of this plan, so yes, Day 3 is rather light, so far.

What was the party?  Roller derby.  Nuff said, for those in the know.  For those that don't, here's a mini-recap.

Saturday was derby down at the Idaho Fairgrounds.  It's where we used to skate, back in the day, before we upgraded to the Arena and the big time. :)  Fairgrounds mean crappy hard metal bleachers, poor echoey sound quality, and, in this case, no beer served. It was Family Night. A throwback to the old days when the league was getting itself established. Sidewayz and I wore our old derby gear. I was in my old TVR green jersey and he was in his 'derby shirt' - a black & blue bowling shirt with a pinup girl embroidered on the front. We took a flask of bourbon. We sat in the stands and cheered. We yelled at the refs. We explained the game to anyone near us that didn't understand the rules. We saw old friends. We were asked many times when we were coming back. I won't do a recap of the bouts. If you want that, go to Examiner.com and read my friend Tom's updates on all things derby. He should have a recap of our bouts in a day or two. He just happened to be the coach for one the teams that came in this weekend.

Afterwards, there is always an afterparty.  A chance for the hard working skaters to let off some steam and party with your new friends who came from out of town. Namely, the skaters you just destroyed on the track. We always drink, and we always dance. Sometimes there's karaoke. But not coming from me!! I just drink and dance. And dance. And dance. 
Then we take a cab home (cuz we're smart!), stumble our way thru getting our stinky, smokey clothes off, and fall blearily into bed. (this particular place didn't ban smoking. It's in a little part of town that didn't have to.)
Then comes the wakeup.  Of course, because we got home around 1 or 1:30, I wake up at 8am. As I stagger out of bed, trying not to trip over pets, I realize just how bad dancing all night was.  My legs and feet are killing me.  Of course, with lubrication, I'd forgotten how I'd damaged something in my foot, and how it hurt to walk or stand for any length of time. And I danced for a good two hours. Dummy.

I started in on the water. Thankfully, I knew I had at least 2 hours of quiet time to myself before Sidewayz roused himself. So I watered the outside plants, transplanted some, and made an attempt to sit in the quiet sunshine. Storm clouds were rolling in, tho, so that sent me indoors. Hey! I have the computer!  Sims family, here I come! 
And that was my entire day until naptime.  Sideways was in no better shape. He lounged/napped on the couch till I took a nap. Then he took over and spent the rest of his day playing Everquest.

All this is to show you just how 'too old for this shiz' we're getting.  A full day and more to recover from a few hours of beers and dancing. Ok and maybe 2 or 3 Washington Apples.
It was wonderful seeing and dancing with friends.  Even got the hubby out on the floor to dance with me! 

Today is Memorial Day and the hubby plans on grilling a pork tenderloin. Let's see how that goes!

#141 No Limits

Today's blog comes to you from the number 141.

                                                                No Limits.

                                                         What does that mean?
                                                        It can mean ANYTHING.

No limits on your credit card.
No limits to government spending. ( I wonder if, once in office, the nation's budget seems like a no-limit credit card?  That might explain some things.)
No limits on pizza or ice cream toppings.
No limits on free drinks at the event.
No limits on the amount of bad press some celebs can wrack up.
No limit to the love a mother gives her child.
(to a small child) No limits to the amount of fun to be had playing with favorite toys.
No limits to waves crashing on beaches.
No limits to the stars in the universe. (yes, we have come to a pause in exploring those stars, but we'll get there! Just not in our immediate lifetimes.)
For some of us gluttonous readers, no limits on the amount of books we can read in a lifetime.
No limits to the woolgathering I can accomplish in a day.  (I don't mean that literally. I have never gathered actual wool from a sheep. But I did get to pet one and bring home some really oily wool in a paper bag when I was 4 or 5. But I did stay at a Holiday Inn.)

See, No Limits can apply to just about anything. Not quite everything, tho! There are limits to how many drinks I can have and stay functional. There are limits on how much BS I can take. There is a limit in my bank account. (I should probably reach in there and dust off that big fat ZERO at the bottom of my bank account. It used to be covered up by my paychecks, but since I stopped working, that big ZERO has been rather exposed to the elements.) You know, the normal stuff!


What do you think of when you see, "No Limits" ?

#140 Eyes Wide Open

     What do I see when I look around me?  The detritus of two people who've been living a temporary life for far too long.
By temporary, I mean not permanent.  Things are stored in boxes. Piled high and crammed tight in closets.  Items I haven't seen in years and other items he hasn't seen in over a decade. 
I am a firm believer in out-of-sight, out-of-mind.  Which, when it comes to my stuff, I have a problem with.  I want to see and touch and be able to USE my stuff.  Otherwise, I wouldn't have bothered to save it when I had to high-tail it across the mountains to get here.
We're temporary because we have yet to buy our own house. Sidewayz, the cute name a friend gave my husband, because, well, look at the picture of the two of us. He's looking sideways. In almost every single photo of us, he's looking sideways, away from me, with a smirk.
Anyway. Sidewayz has been renting this duplex for over 10 years.  Great for character building, which will later help with a loan.  But, at our ages, we really should be in our own home.

     When I look around me, I also see all my houseplants.  And my dogs. And. all. the. toys.  Ringo is just like a toddler with a short attention span, for his toys.  I'd include a photo of the cutest. puppy. evar.  but I am sans decent camera/phone at the mo.   You'll just have to wait.

     I have a strange relationship with my houseplants.  Some thrive and some can't die fast enough.  Many are cuttings from family, friends, Hewlett-Packard.  I name my plants, usually depending on who I got them from.
I don't even know WHAT some of them are called, but I love them all the same.
I always knew that plants were great for oxygen in the home, but I didn't know until recently that they are little air-scrubbers.  Great!
The one type of plant that seems to thrive the most in my house(which, mind you, is pretty low-light) is the spider plant. Mostly the non-striped variety.  I got a cutting from my friend Sabra (I named the plant after her, as I do with all my plants from people) from her bead store, Need to Bead, and that thing has produced SO many babies!! I have an over abundance of spider plants here! You can see the Mother Plant here, as it lives in the store. Doesn't look like much, but man, is it prolific!

     I said up there that one of the places I got my plants is Hewlett-Packard. Boise is home to one of the HP campuses, and it is quite a large employer for the area, what with all the contractors on site.  I used to work there, and had the opportunity to get plant cuttings from some of the plants there. ( I asked, I didn't just take!)
Some day I'll have to be bothered enough to look up some of the plants and actually know what they are, other than my plant-babies.

So, what do I see when I look around me?  My life.

Keep It Simple

                                                     
I got the idea for this blog post after doing a search for blogging ideas. I found Cynthia's Blog.

I'm still raw enough at this that I have to fish around for ideas.  Otherwise I flounder and eventually, I will stop blogging.  I really want to give this a shot.  (Did you notice the two fish references there? I didn't even try for that.)

Today is #139.  Yes, I am quite aware that I didn't start from the beginning. So?
Topic: Keep it Simple

I decided the most simple thing I could do was a list of my basics. Pretty simple.

The following points were stolen from a reading challenge I had thought to participate in, at Goodreads.com before I realized that too many reading challenges will make my brain explode.

1. Birthday - 9/29/75 (yes, I fully admit my age.  I also have grey hair that I don't bother to color/cover.  I earned it.)
2. Hometown - I have two.  Emmett, ID and North Highlands, CA
3. Relationship Status - Happily married to my best friend.  I out-geeked him the night we met and we've been together ever since.
4. Occupation - You're looking at it.  And thankfully I don't have a webcam, so you never get to see me always in my jammies in a never-clean house.
5. Favorite Author - My go-to is always Stephen King, but since I joined Goodreads.com, I have discovered so much more!  At this point in time, I have too many authors I love. (check out my book lists, see what we have in common!)
6. Favorite Color -  This has changed since my childhood.  It was always blue when I was little.  It has changed to purple.
7. Ideal Vacation Spot - Camping on a beach.  Preferably a sandy beach, not a rocky one!
8. Role Model/Mentor - I don't have just one.  So many people amaze me with their talents.  Cooking, crocheting, knitting, roller skating, web-design, writing, sewing, parenting, painting, just having their shit together.  I try to take examples of all the people in my life and learn from their doing.
9. Favorite Food -  whatever I decide to stuff in my face.
10. Favorite Holiday - Halloween
11. Favorite Animal/Pet - I was always a cat person.  However, we got a puppy just over a year ago from a rollergirl friend of ours and I have fallen in sugary sweet love with Ringo.  He's just a mutt, and that makes him all the more lovable, in my heart.
12. Trait You Admire - Unfailing loyalty.
13. Favorite Hobby - I don't really consider reading a hobby, as it is so much a part of my life.  I haven't taken enough steps into my blogging journey, so I can't count that. Yet.  I do have a whole lotta yarn, tho!  I guess, crocheting/knitting.  I also really dig house plants.  Can 'houseplants' be a hobby?
14. Phobia/Fear - Coulrophobia- Fear of clowns, and of course,  Arachnophobia- Fear of spiders.  Also, not real fond of zombies. Kinemortophobia.
15. Obsession - Whatever I seem to glom onto at the moment.  Right now, it's learning to blog effectively.  Also, still reading as much as I can in a year.

So there you have it.  A really simple blog post.
Happy Tuesday!