Dear Sophie...

2011-12-24T08:58:00.000-08:00

Dear Sophie,

When I was in college (the first time), I took a child development class. In that class I learned that the first 5 years of a child's life are the most formative. The teacher I had stressed how important these years are and how, good or bad, many things learned in those first five years are irreparable after that point.

It was 11 years before you would come into my life. But that message stayed with me the entire time.

The first year of your life was one focused on survival, and I figured I had a bit more time to worry about the forever forming of your little self. Before I knew it, the second year was gone too. So by the time we got to your third year of life, the panic was in full force. It has been my mission these last two years to do everything I can to mold you into the person I hope you become.

My first obsession was manners. I used to say, "no matter what else, my child will be POLITE!" When you started preschool, it was one of the things your teacher would comment on the most "she has the best manners!" Checkmark. One point for mommy.

My next focus was around family. Growing up with a single mom and a sister so much older than me meant a lot of alone time. And even with your daddy's schedule as crazy as it is, he and I both committed to spending as much time together as a family as possible. So we travel. A lot. We make memories every chance we get. We have family game night and marshmallow roasting and lots of time just snuggling in bed together. You get it...family is what matters. And it's not just blood...we've brought so many friends into our circle of family. My friends are your aunties. You refer to their children as your brothers and sisters. You're obsessed with your cousins. You get it...family is important.

It embarresses me to say that Jesus was a little further down on the list. But when daddy and I realized He was missing from your vocabulary, we did our best to rectify that situation. So we introduced prayer time and bible stories and church. You took to Him like a duck to water. I think it helped cement the concept of Him when we lost Blue. Watching you memorize Bible verses and talk about Christmas as Jesus' birthday...watching you play Daniel in the lion's den on the playground...seeing your fearlessness in speaking of faith...you inspire me. It may be the best gift I ever receive as your mom - watching you learn to walk in faith. And your daddy is forever my biggest fan, telling me how you get it and that I'm a great mom and look what I've done.

Check.

And so it continued, this race to cram in all the good I thought you needed in the first five years. Empathy, check. Charity, check. Good citizenship, patriotism, a focus on education...check, check, check.

And now the panic is on. One year left and then you're off to school. And I have to pray that everything we've worked so hard to instill sticks and you'll be the person who can stand on your own because you know who you are.

And then yesterday happened.

You had a friend, your best friend from school, come over to play. And she took a liking to a couple of your toys. Toys you love. Toys that are relatively new in your cycle of playthings. And you said to her, with feigned carelessness, "you can have those. I'm so bored with them."

And your friend was DELIGHTED! She clutched the toys like treasure and ran around with them the rest of the afternoon.

And what did I do? Seeing you exemplify the characteristics I've worked so hard to instill in you?

I discouraged it.

"Sweetie! Are you SURE you want to give those toys to your friend? I think you'll be sad. I think you'll miss them. (I think I bought the damn things and you need to keep them!)"

And you just smiled sweetly and said you wanted your friend to have them. Awwww....

And I stewed about it the rest of the afternoon.

She put the toys down at some point and I hoped it would be forgotten. But when it was time for goodbyes, they resurfaced and so did your resolve to give them away. I akwardly danced around the situation saying to the mom "I'm afraid when you leave, she's going to want them back!" To which she responded, "no problem! we are right up the street. Just call us! What a great idea...we should do a toy swap with our kids!!"

I watched as you danced around, delighted to make someone else happy, my sweet girl. You climbed in the car to give hugs to your friend and her sister, picked flowers for them to take home and generally relished in the moment.

That's when I finally got it. Is it always this way, that a little child will lead them?

You were simply showing me the things it sounded like I'd been saying all this time. But you were actually putting it into practice. How love isn't love until you give it away. How giving of ourselves is the best gift we can ever give. The truth of knowing that where our hearts are, our treasure is also.

Duh.

So all this forming and molding I thought I was doing for you? Turns out, it might actually be for me. That maybe...just maybe...those formative years? They might be for the parents too. This might be my last, best shot of becoming the best person I can be.

I can't think of a better teacher.

Jesus...and the way His love shines through you.

So, as I have stressed this Christmas season, anxious to make sure you knew it was about Jesus' birth and not the presents you get...I find myself realizing that you already get it. And perhaps the one who really needed the lesson was me.

Humbled by this life as your mommy.

Love,
Your faithful student

2011-10-30T20:05:00.000-07:00

Dear Sophie -

It's me, your mom. Here with another life lesson again.

If you're wondering, they are as much for me as they are you. Funny how life works out that way.

I'm sure by the time you read this, you'll have heard the story of your grand entrance into the world 100 times. And, how we almost lost you twice. The struggles we faced when you were a teeny tiny baby? It's the most direct link I can find to why your daddy and I are a bit more indulgent with you than we ought to be. We're hoping to get that under control before you're 16. ;/

But tonight, I'm reminded of the need to be thankful in the hard times, for the near misses of what could have been. You've been sick for a week, and anytime you have breathing problems, I'm immediately back in THAT MOMENT. The one where we woke up and you weren't breathing, and you were blue and we had to call 911. The one where daddy saved you, and mommy prayed for you and we both realized how desperately we loved you. That moment where you were two weeks old and we weren't sure how we'd ever make it to your first birthday in one piece. But now you've had four birthdays. And we're more in love with you than we ever thought would be possible.

So today, when you started that crazy coughing/not breathing well mess/gasping for air, we hopped in the car and headed to urgent care. After 3.5 hours of waiting, you were D O N E. So when the doctor said you would need medicine, you decided in that moment that you would be having no such thing. When presented with the options of liquid medicine or a shot, you chose neither and announced you would like to go home now, please.

It didn't matter when you got the explanation of why it was needed, you weren't interested. So, I quietly whispered to the doctor that it would be easier to have the shot. The nurse came back in after the doctor left and asked if I wouldn't mind letting her try to get you to take the medicine. I obliged, even though I knew in my heart it was wrong.

You see, my precious child, you aren't like other children. She came in sweetly and tried to talk you through it, bribe you through it (with TOYS!), negotiate you through it and beg you through it. She didn't want to give you the shot for something that should be so painless. She was kind and thoughtful, and tried all the tricks that I'm sure work with all the other kids. But she didn't know you. I did...and that first lesson was for me. I should have trusted my instincts. ALWAYS TRUST YOUR INSTINCTS!!

Seriously sweetheart...when you are moving in the world on your own, and something causes the hairs on your arms to raise, go with your gut!!

Back to you. At one point, the nurse asked if you wouldn't like to at least try the medicine before you said you didn't want it. She even put some on my finger, in an effort to get you to try it. I went along like some tourist in a country where I didn't speak the language who turns down a really bad road because it looks like it might lead to something good.

It didn't. And in the midst of the sweat and tears and pleading, I saw my own face in yours and I knew how this would end. You had already decided the outcome and even if you were going to be overpowered, you would stand your ground for as long as you could. You would not go down without a fight. You are stubborn. You are determined. You are a fighter. And I say all of these in love, because I have a feeling these might be some of your best qualities in life. I might have a wee bit of first hand knowledge in this area.

But honey? That's where the life lesson comes in.

I looked up at the nurse and smiled. I said "we almost lost her when she was a baby. So the fact that she's here and fighting me? I'll take it. I'm grateful." And I am. I am so grateful. I am so thankful to God that he allowed you to stay here with us and that we get to have these moments that aren't always fun. Because you're here. This month has been one of remembering to be grateful in the hard times for me, markedly so this week. An officer who works in the next city from where daddy works was killed this week. He was 27 and had two beautiful children and a beautiful wife and now he's gone. There aren't any more doctor's visits or weekend snuggles or daddy/daughter dances for him. And while his family will move on, there will always be a huge gap in their life. So tonight, when I went to get the computer and it was dead, and it was sitting right NEXT to the charger but not actually plugged IN to the charger, I took a breath. And I remembered to be grateful. To not sweat the little stuff. To be happy that I have someone who forgets to charge the laptop because it means he's still here, living life with us. And keeping us safe, and taking out the trash, and paying the bills and the many other great things he does everyday. Even if he doesn't charge the laptop. Or loses the remote controls. Hmmph!

But that lesson, too, was for me. Someday for you, for sure. You'll need to remember to not sweat the small stuff. But that's not the one for you today.

So what was it? Ultimately, we still had a problem on your hands. You were sick and needed this medication to breathe better. At this point, I didn't see the shot in your future and hadn't gone through all of this mess to just poke you and be done with it. You needed to take your medicine. And so it ended in an ugly mess. Two nurses holding you down, and me wrapping my arm lovingly around your neck (to immobilize you), looking lovingly in your eyes (to make sure you were still conscious) and shooting the syringe full of medication into your mouth while making sure you didn't choke on it (swallow it. NOW!).

Still not clear what the lesson was, other than you'll definitely need a therapist later in life and you'll be using this note to explain why? Well here it is love. Sometimes, no matter how stubborn we are, no matter how determined we are, no matter how hard we fight - life does not go according to our plans. We can't just get up and leave the office when we don't like what we've heard the doctor say, or the hand we've been dealt. Sometimes, often times, God has another plan for us. A bigger plan. And the really cool thing is that most of the time, He gives us an indication of what it might be. But the really crappy part? Sometimes He doesn't. In either case, the new direction we head can be one we don't like. And we can try to deny it and avoid it. But at some point, He's gonna grab a hold of us and give us a taste of what really is going to make it all better. Even if you don't feel like it will.

After all, at the end of this, you got two new toys (from the traumatized nurse), a trip to yogurtology (from your exhausted mother) and a nap in the car on the way home. Plus, you can breathe - a critical component of living. I know it didn't feel good in the moment, but the end was so much better than you could have imagined.

And that's how it is with God too, honey. The plans He has are so much bigger and more incredible than we could ever imagine. But they aren't pain free all the time. So when you find that you seem to be coming against a wall, everywhere you turn, remember this: it might be time to try something new. You just never know how great it might be in the end.

Just ask the woman who thought she'd never have a child of her own. She realized the significance of her very existence the moment she became a mother. Not sure who this woman is? I'll give you a hint...you call her mommy.

I love you my precious girl.

Love,
your mama

2011-08-19T17:04:00.000-07:00

Dear Sophie -

It's Friday afternoon and I should have already picked you up from school. We had big plans tonight...Red Robin and swimming and surely some ice cream thrown in there. A movie and some snuggle time and just another perfectly perfect Friday night ladies night.

But those plans won't work out tonight.

In your short life, you've had two dogs and three great grandparents die. But those loses have all come at a time where you couldn't really process it.

The day your daddy and I brought you home from the hospital, you had three goofy dogs waiting to welcome you home. Anakin, Sasha and Charlie. And immediately, these three took shifts around the clock, guarding your every move. They taught you to crawl (I'm convinced!) and let you climb all over them. When you went to bed, so did they. When your eyes popped open in the morning, their ears perked up.

Your first Christmas, I took you to see great grandma and grandpa butler. Oh Sophie...how they LOVED you! You were the belle of the Christmas ball. They held you and danced with you, and your eyes shined with excitement, taking in the glittering lights. That Christmas night, Grandpa Butler went home to Jesus.

The months went on and we started to get excited for your first birthday. But then my grandaddy got sick. And a week later, just 5 days before we celebrated your big day, he was gone. A week after that, Sasha wasn't in your room when you woke up, so we went downstairs to find her. She had passed in her sleep, and four months later, a week after Christmas, Charlie was gone too.

To say that was a rough year is an understatement. Not too much time passed before Grandma Butler got her call home too. And your daddy and I were left without any of our grandparents, and just one little dog...Anakin.

It's really been the last two years where you and Anakin have become inseparable. Lacking a sibling, you adopted Anakin as your brother. You dressed him up and he slept in your bed and you were the best of friends.

And it all started to worry your daddy and me. Because, when Anakin was gone...we knew you would be heartbroken. So, we started talking about getting another dog. Someone who could integrate well into our family. A friend for Anakin, and a playmate for you.

Just when I thought we might never find the perfect dog, he came running (literally) into our lives. A stray your daddy rescued at work that we named Blue has become the heart of our little family. From the minute we wake until the last Hill is safely tucked in bed, our love and attention spills out on this little guy. None of us can stand to be away from home long and Blue himself cries when our family leaves. He is, quite simply, the perfect dog for us.

But he's been sick. Really, really sick. We've done so much to help him get better and it seemed like he was...

But now he's taken a sharp turn for the worse. And I sit here facing the very real possibility that he might not make it through the weekend, let alone a lifetime of growing up with you. I am gutted.

Because as much as I love this dog (and I do LOVE this dog), my love for you is that much greater. I want to protect you from this, shelter you from the pain that comes with telling a four year old her dog might die. Or worse, to have to tell you he did die. How sweet love of mine? How will I tell you and keep it from hurting you so deeply that the pain stays with you and changes a piece of who you are? Your whole life right now is wrapped up in this dog.

There's a piece of me that feels foolish. This is just a dog. There are thousands of children starving to death in Africa as I write these words, and yet...I ache for this dog. Everyday your daddy comes home from work and I breathe a deep sigh of relief and think "another day. we made it through another day and he's here and I don't have to tell her that daddy's not coming home..." and yet I still cry for this dog.

So, I do what I can and try to keep him strong enough to fight a disease that has no cure and limited treatment and I wrap hearts in bubble wrap to cushion the impact and I pray. Because ultimately, there is nothing greater I can do in this situation than pray.

So tonight, we'll stay home and watch movies and love on our puppy. There will be ice cream and maybe that's all we'll eat for dinner, actually. And treats for Blue...lots of treats for Blue.

So what's the life lesson here, my sweet girl? I'm not sure yet...I have a feeling there might be one for both of us. But not matter what, you are completely and totally beloved. And I hope you remember what it's like to be a little girl who loves her puppy for the rest of your life. Because I've never seen anything more pure and beautiful in my entire life. I love you, sweet girl.

Love,
Your mama

2010-11-22T10:40:00.000-08:00

Dear Sophie -

It's Monday, and a busy one at that. So much so that I've been locked away with my work and haven't even had the chance to kiss you good morning yet - one of the great benefits of working from home. I miss you my sweet child, and you are busy with your day, not even stopping yet to knock on my door and rush in for hugs.

But you are still ever present in my thoughts and my heart. My love for you is unending. Just because you haven't seen me yet today, I am still here with you.

While you slept, I watched over you, prayed over you, gave thanks for you. When you fell asleep last night, I crept into your room to turn off the lamp next to your bed - your security blanket for the uneasiness darkness brings you. Early this morning, when fall's chill covered your room, I layed a warm blanket over your sweet little body to keep you warm. And as you stirred in your bed this morning, I heard you and gave thanks that a new day with you was about to unfold.

In all this, I am reminded of the way God loves us.

In the same way that I am constantly checking on you, brushing the hair from your face while you sleep, adjusting your pillow to make you more comfortable, snuggling up next to you in the night, God does the same for us. He is always present, always protecting, always comforting. Only he doesn't take a break to watch TLC on Sunday nights like I do. In that sense, it's so humbling to think that no one could love you more, deeper or better than I do. But He does. It is He who sets the example. I am just a poor reflection of His beautiful love. As much as I am there, He is ALWAYS there.

And as I rushed into my day today, not stopping even for a moment to say good morning to my heavenly Father, I am reminded that He is still there. Listening to me, watching me, loving me. Knowing that He gave to me - and delights in - another day to love and adore Him is overwhelming.

So as I give thanks for you, I also give thanks to Him. Another day to love Him, to love you, to enjoy our sweet family. We are so blessed and so loved. I hope you find this peace and truth in your own life sweet girl.

And as you grow and your days get busier, just remember there is someone here - watching, loving and waiting for you to turn around and notice.

It's Jesus.

Turns out, He really does love you more than your mama - how's that for a mind blowing Monday?

I love you my baby girl,

Momy (that's how you are spelling Mommy these days ;-)

2010-10-11T16:46:00.000-07:00

Dear Sophie -

I am envious of you. I see the world through your eyes and I long for my own to see life the way you do. Especially because you lack worry. Anxiety. Strife.

You don't worry about the laundry or the bills or the messes that need to get cleaned up. You aren't anxious about the "what if's" and "then what's" of the world. The things that keep me up at night. You are content to go with the flow, riding out the waves of life, trusting in me and your daddy.

We are your guides. We are the ones you look to for an example of how to respond to the uncertainties of your world. The foundation you stand on for balance.

Balance

I've spent so much of my time, especially since becoming your mama, praying for balance. Recently, I've had a revelation that life isn't something we can put neatly into little measurements, with each compartment getting its own equal amount of time, it's own "balance". 8 hours for work, 8 hours for sleep, 8 hours for family, 8 hours for self..

Wait a second mom! That's 32 hours. Aren't there only 24 in a day??

Yes my brilliant child, there are. And that's my point. There is always more to be done than there is time to do it. Working more than 8 hours means a sacrifice of sleep. Taking time out for me means time away from you. And so on and so on. So, my darling, I'm learning that rather than balance, I have to find an equilibrium.

I love this definition of equilibrium: a stable situation in which forces cancel one another.

A stable situation. That's what I'm trying to find. A place where the sacrifice of time away is canceled out by the quality of time that we spend together.

Take for example this moment. Writing this letter. I started work early today so I could finish while your nanny was still here. Rather than rushing down to be with you (which I so desperately desired), I took advantage of the time you would normally be in someone else's care to do something for myself - write. Something I so desperately needed. And so, minute by minute, I try to find my equilibrium. The place where my needs and wants cancel each other out and I'm left with peace, joy and the ability to embrace the exact moment I'm in.

Paying bills, doing the laundry, cleaning up the messes? Those all have spaces too. But I'm learning not to let them bother me so much. I can live with the mess. I am learning to live without the worry. But without equilibrium, I can not stand upright under the pressure of the world.

So my true stability? The lifeblood that sustains me? That's Jesus. It's His example I'm trying to find in that elusive balancing act of life. That way, when you look at me, you will actually see Him. That's my prayer for you today Sophie. That you never lose your perspective on the world, and that you continue to trust, learning that your hope - our hope - comes only from the Lord.

It's a short letter today. I have a date with a three year old and her super handsome daddy.

I love you the mostest -

love, your mommy

2010-09-19T23:44:00.000-07:00

Dear Sophie,

I've written to you - both here and privately - of how much I love you. And I do. I adore you beyond belief. But I thought maybe you'd like a little insight into the person you are becoming so that when you're grown, you can look back and laugh about the origins of your personality. You are truly the funniest person I know (you get that from me). Everyday you do, or say, something that gives me the biggest belly laugh.

Today was no exception.

We had a lovely day planned with two of our favorite ladies - Lauren and "Lauren's Mommy". Lunch, shopping and sprinkles cupcakes. But you were the real entertainment today. Your words, your expressions, your sassy little walk...I love it all. Sometimes I wish we had a tv crew following us around, documenting your life because there are just some things you have to see to believe. Our life together is a little bit like that. But..I digress.

At H&M, you found these little mannequins that looked like kids. You found one you loved and decided to name him "Sophie". The only problem was that no one else was allowed to touch or play with Sophie. This was particularly sad for little Lauren, your self-professed best friend whom you "LOVE"!! Apparently, a boy is already coming between the two of you, because anytime she tried to get near him you practically growled at her, swinging your arms out like a lion trying to protect her baby cub. The whole time you were begging me to take your picture with "sophie". I was laughing so hard, I couldn't take the picture or administer any of my truly effective parenting techniques to keep you from ripping Lauren's limbs from her body. Luckily, "Lauren's Mommy" interveined long enough for me to snap this picture...

If you look closely, you'll see both your look of smug satisfaction and Lauren's sad little face in the background. Oh Sophie...you are the most stubborn, strong-willed child I have met. I have NO idea where you get that from. (Kidding..you're daddy, obviously!) But I'm so glad for those character traits of yours. Like Auntie Tamara always tells me, we're raising independant women. You'll be that for sure. Don't ever lose sight of that baby. Even if others don't like it or the world tells you to be less, you stay strong. Be assertive. Know who you are and be proud of it. Just trust me on this one thing...pick the friend over the boy every time. You'll never be disappointed. The right one will be the one you don't have to fight over, because he's so in love with you, he can't possibly look at anyone else.

There are so many more higlights from today that make me smile, but the one that makes me laugh out loud when I think of it was when we were in the Disney store. Lauren's mommy found the cutest Nemo costume for baby James and you just HAD to try it on. So, off it came from the hanger, and on your body it went. You pranced around the store, fish tail wagging behind you, looking at how fabulous you were in the mirror. Don't believe me? See for yourself...

You were so proud of that little costume. You modeled proudly as everyone admired how cute you were and told you so. But that wasn't the funny part. That part came a few minutes later when I realized you suffer from the same afflication mommy has called verbal diarrhea. It's a real disorder, I promise. Look it up in urban dictionary! I did...and laughed hysterically. Some of the definitions weren't fit for print here. But these three pretty much sum it up...

1)An adj. given to someone who expresses their awkwardness through words.
2)Used to describe a person who can not control his random thoughts from exploding, which get them into trouble.

3) A person that speaks their mind without any filter; consequences could be profoundly funny or insulting to the person listening

All three fit the bill for me more often than not. But today, as you sat in your Nemo costume three sizes too small and took in life around you, you couldn't help but notice the cute little baby that passed by you, pushed by his daddy in a stroller. And that's when I realized, you suffer from this verbal venom too. Because you asked, as loudly as you could:

"MOMMY! What's wrong with that baby????"

Horrified, I could do nothing but look down, pretend that you weren't my child and try to keep from laughing. Oh...and try to sneak a peak at the baby to see what was actually wrong with him. From my vantage point, the only thing I could see was that he was lacking any hair on his head, and I'm guessing this must have been what perpetuated the question, since you're not usually one to point out unusual features of others. But, that might all change now, given your recent diagnoses.

Luckily for us, the dad laughed and relayed the exchange to the other dad pushing a stroller next to them and they seemed to have a nice chuckle over the event. Or, they might have been plotting to trip you outside of the toy store. I'm not really sure which...

So honey, be careful with your words. You really can't get them back, once you say them. Train yourself to work on that internal edit...especially for your mama's sake. Or if you must express yourself so dynamically, stick to self descriptions.

Like the one you had tonite when you climbed up on the chair in my bathroom, looked at yourself in your new woody pajamas and exclaimed:

"I'm so beautiful, I can't even STAND it!"

Me either baby. I can't stand how beautiful you are to me. And, you're pretty good looking too.

No one loves you more!

love, your mama

2010-08-25T22:44:00.000-07:00

Dear Sophie -

I've struggled with this post, because everything I wanted to say sounds so cliche: I can't believe you're three years old! You're growing up so fast!! We just brought you home from the hospital 5 minutes ago as a tiny baby and now you're in preschool!!

So, I had to think about what it is I really wanted to tell you.

The truth of the matter is this. I love being your mom more than anything I've ever done in my life and more than anything I could ever hope to experience. There simply isn't enough time in either of our lives to love you the way I want to. It's what gives me hope, encourages me to have faith. It makes me long for Jesus to come reign on earth right now, so time would never end and I could love you forever. Being your mom makes me want to tell more people about God, in hopes of influencing their perspective on eternity. Being with you makes everything else in this world seem a little duller. Nothing holds a candle to the way you brighten this world. Your enthusiasm for life and living it outloud is contagious. There's no one - children and adult alike - that you encounter who doesn't leave as your friend. You inspire me to be more bold in the world. Have I mentioned how much I adore you??

I know there will be moments in your life - likely when you are a teenager - that you will question my love for you. I'm bound to make decisions you won't agree with. Or impose punishment you feel is unjust. You might feel like I'm against you. I promise you, there's nothing that could ever be further from the truth. I am your biggest fan, your truest friend, and the person most changed because of the person you are. My love for you will never, ever, ever...no, not ever, change. It will not fail. I hope that's a truth you come to know all through your life.

I've loved you the longest, besides Daddy. Oh, and everyone else who got to meet you in those 4 hours after you were born before I did. But you held out for me, didn't you? You held it together for all of them, looking around and knowing something was missing. Someone was missing. The moment you finally found the comfort of my arms, you broke out in tears, and so did I. You couldn't keep it together anymore. You're still that way. I love that I am the one who you can be the most real with, with whom you share your truest colors. I hope that aspect of our relationship never changes. I pray that you will always seek comfort in my arms, my darling daughter.

Thank you for allowing me the honor of being you mom. I can't think of a single luckier person in the world. Here's to your 4th year on earth and a million more to us being together.

I love you princess,
your mommy :)

2010-08-24T15:05:00.000-07:00

Just a little preview of the birthday pics and post I owe my precious girlie!!!

Holding Matt's hand and looking at your cake...

Frosting cupcakes with Aunt Shell.

You and your Angie :)

2010-05-06T20:54:00.001-07:00

Dear Sophie -

We're getting ready to leave on vacation in a few days, and I have so much to do. Between working and packing and trying to get all of the details taken care of before we go away, it hasn't left much time to sit and think about the trips we're going on in soon. But now, as I sit in the quiet of my office, I am quite nostalgic, thinking of what the next few days hold.

We're going to Ohio next week. Just for two days - it's a side-trip of our vacation. But it's those two days that have me both overjoyed and overwhelmed. We're going to your great grandaddy and great grandma's house, to pack it up and get it ready to sell. It breaks my heart that you didn't really get to know them. I think you kind of remember grandaddy, although I'm sure you'll lose those memories, the older you get. It's so strange to me when I think that of the whole life you've lived already in just under 3 years, and yet, you probably will remember none of it when you're older. I hope your memories of grandaddy are always there. But your great grandma - who we called Mamma - she died several years before you were born. When I let myself think about the missed opportunity for her to know you, it makes me so sad. I'm jealous that your cousins had an opportunity to grow up knowing her. Oh Sophia - she would have loved you. You remind me so much of her - you're sassy, just like she was. You're so wise, just like she was. And, you're hilarious - just like she was. You'll never know all of this on your own, so you'll just have to take my word for it. I used to make her tell me all about Grandma Apple - her mother - because I longed to know my great-grandmother. I can't wait to tell you about yours.

So now, we're going back to the home that she and grandaddy lived in for so many years. I think about walking into that home - so full of love, so full of my grandparents spirit - and having you there. I want you to run in the yard, and walk down their street. I can already see you, tearing through the house, squealing with delight. But the part that catches in my throat is something that will be unnoticeable to you. You'll have no idea that two people are missing from the house. Two loving grandparents, who should be sitting in the rocking chairs, watching their great granddaughter laugh and play, clapping their hands and laughing along. I miss them. I miss them so much. I long for them to know you and you to know them.

So this week will be hard on me. And you'll have no idea. But someday, when you look at pictures of yourself standing in front of a strange house that you don't recognize, I want you to have more than just a date on the back of the picture. I want you to know how important it was for me to have you stand where they stood. So important, that I'm about to get on 6 planes over the next 8 days to make that happen. And if you know anything about your mama, I'm sure you know how much I hate to fly. But I would have hated even more for you to miss this opportunity. I can't wait for you to breathe in the air - the smells, the spirit, the memories - of your great grandparents' house.

And I can't wait for the day when you really will have a chance to know them. Come Lord Jesus!!

You have no shortage of amazing family who love and adore you, and you'll be inundated with them over the next week. But I thought you should know about two people who are watching over you from heaven. Especially as we tie up the last physical, worldly reminder of the live they lived, and lived well.

I love you my precious girlie-

love, your mama

2010-03-07T13:59:00.000-08:00

Dear Sophie,

Do you have any idea how much I love you? Probably not. Although I tell you all the time, you are only two and a half. So...I doubt you remember. I mean, I know you love me and you know I love you. I think you conceptually understand what love is. But you also love popsicles, ring pops and watching OomiZoomi, so I am not sure you have a grasp on how deeply I love you. That's what scares me.

Because you're so young, I'm afraid you won't remember any of the time we've had together so far. I'm crazy about spending time with you. We travel, we do fun and exciting things, we make a lot of memories. I have pictures to prove it! (OK...so they're all on my blackberry. At least you can see them on Facebook!!) And sometimes we don't do anything exciting except spend hours and hours together, playing play-doh, painting, coloring and playing pretend. And if anything ever happened to me, I'm so fearful that all of those memories would be wiped out. Your concept of who mommy is would slowly diminish over time, until all you had were pictures of memories that no longer existed in the hard drive of your memory.

My fear is not unfounded. My dad left when I was little. I don't have any memories of him from when I was your age. I have a few spotty memories of visits when I was a little kid, but that's it. So to think of you having to live a life not knowing me just cuts me to the core. It leaves me panicked, anxious and fearful. Which leads me to things like sleeping in your room, taking you on more trips, rocking you to sleep and giving in to your whims a little more than I should, in hopes of building more memories with you. That something in your brain would remember me.

This is a fear I project on your daddy too. I worry about him. His dangerous job. The thought that in protecting someone else's family, he could tear ours apart, irrevocably. It's a risk he willingly takes every single day, God bless him. I'd have to be heavily drugged to ever do his job, but I'm so grateful he does it. I don't worry about him as much as I used to...he's so good at his job. Getting the chance to see him do it first hand has eased a lot of those worries. But life is fickle and there are a lot of bad people out there who like to hurt cops. I worry that someday you might have your daddy taken away from you too soon. That you, too, could grow up not knowing your daddy and my heart hurts for you.

Spending time getting to know sweet Kate and her family, and now learning about precious Layla Grace has made me even more fearful. Wanting to protect you from the world's evils, I snatch you up in my arms and pray that no harm comes to you. I hold you close and grieve inwardly the minute I have to let you out into the world. Either because I let you go on an adventure with your daddy or your nanny, or because I have to leave you behind and trust that someone else will care for you in the same (obsessive, controlling, anxious, smothering) way that I do. I've said it before and I'll say it again...being your mom is both the best and the hardest job I've ever had in my life.

But, because I am your mom, I have certain responsibilities. I know I have to learn to worry less, to let you brave the crazy wide world, to teach you how to survive on your own - with or without my help. And so, one of the things I really want you to learn to be (within reason - no extreme sports that will give your mom a heart attack or stroke) is...

FEARLESS

It's something I'm trying to learn more, every day. Imagine my surprise in church today when our pastor shared the news that worry is a sin. That, in fact, God did not create us to be worrisome. In the Bible, the #1 most frequently repeated command is "do not fear". We learned that the Greek word for worry means "to be pulled apart". That certainly describes the way I have let worry consume me. And that 92% of what we worry about will never happen. I'm not sure if that's accurate or not, but it feels that way for me. I worry about a lot of things that never happen (praise God!).

So I'm going to try to change. It won't be easy, and I'm sure someday - when you're a teenager - you'll complain about how I worry too much. I know you won't believe me when I tell you it is possible to worry more about you. But I'm going to try to give up that control. I want to teach you about God and His unconditional love for you. And I realize that to do that, I have to release you completely and totally into His care. Oh Sophia - I can't wait for the day when you know the love that God has for you. It is - incredibly - deeper, fuller and more unconditional than I could ever hope to give you...if you can believe that!

So until then, I'm going to study more about how to fear-less, so I can help you become fearless. I will repeat my favorite Bible verse so many times, that you'll have it memorized before you go off to college (unless you want to live at home until you're 80...which is totally fine! OK, ok...I'm working on it...). So here it is, Philippians 4:4-8

"Rejoice in the Lord, always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

And so my darling daughter, I will rejoice in the Lord, I will rejoice in this day and I will be glad for the time we have. I will not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow has enough worries of it's own.

I love you with all that I am...

love, your mommy :)

2010-01-06T19:34:00.000-08:00

Dear Sophie,

Happy 2010! I can't believe this is the year you will turn three. I'm already so nostalgic over your "baby years" and feel you slipping away from me as you continue to assert your independence on a daily, hourly and sometimes minute by minute basis.

When you were first born, I remember that EVERYONE that saw us together would say, "enjoy this time...it goes by so fast." It got to the point where it was a little annoying. Going by fast? Ha! Those first two months felt like time was standing still. I wasn't sure which end was up, and I suppose when you're awake 20 out of 24 hours in a day, it does kind of feel like time is moving in slow motion. One night, one particularly rough night during those first two months, I lay in bed crying because there was nothing I could do to make you happy. You were miserable with reflux, only we didn't know it at the time. Your daddy sat in front of you while you were in the baby swing and talked to you. I remember him saying "can't we just fast forward to one years old??" I laughed because it felt like we would never get there. But, before I knew it, we were having your first birthday celebration. As fast as that came, I seriously BLINKED and your second birthday was here. We'd gone from slow motion to someone hitting the fast forward button!

I wish I had written more, taken more pictures, video taped more. Not that you are neglected in any of those areas - far from it. But, had I known then what I know now...how truly fast the time would go, I would have been better at documenting the "Sophie Early Years". So there's the first of many truths you'll learn about your mama, Sophie. I'm imperfect in many ways. And trust me when I tell you that you will be too. Take it from your mom - that's a truth you should embrace as early in your life as possible. Don't waste the time trying to be perfect - it is truly impossible.

So I felt like I should take a minute to pause at the start of this new year and just remember all of the joy you've brought us over the last year. The problem is, there are way too many moments of joy to remember them all. It's cruel how quickly those moments leave and are replaced with new ones. Bigger ones. Sometimes better ones. The realization that you're growing is so bittersweet. How many nights have I prayed over you, begging God to give us another perfectly imperfect, wonder-filled day together? Oh, how gracious He's been to us Sophie. And yet, like a fool who wastes wishes, I feel like I should have added a clause to those requests..."and make the day go by as slow as possible, so I can savor every single moment we have together." I can't slow down the time we have together. But I can tell you that every minute of every day since August 14th, 2007 has been infinitely better, richer and more joyful because of you. I will never take our time together for granted, because there are so many people who never get the chances we've had.

So, as I continue to watch the beautiful metamorphosis of your life unfolding before me, I will be grateful for every single day we're together. And instead of mourning the loss of my "baby", I will embrace the gain of my precious child. I will celebrate your milestones, your growth, your spirited independence. And, I will try to remember all of this when you scream "Don't talk to me MOMMY!"

Here's a funny story to end with. A few days ago, you and I went out to dinner while daddy was working. You were, in typical Sophie fashion, bossing me around and saying things to shame me in public. Basically making me question why we ever taught you to talk. You weren't bratty (not my girl!) but just extremely opinionated and loudly expressing your dissension. A woman walked up to me and asked how old you were. I told her you were two and she smiled, telling me how cute you were. Then she said, "good luck when she's 14!"

I happen to be of the opinion that I'll need more luck when you're four, than when you're 14. But, only time will tell. And that's something I'm very much looking forward to...more time!

Here's to a fabulous 2010 together. Remember...no one loves you more than me!

xoxo

your mama!

2009-11-08T23:17:00.000-08:00

Dear Sophie,

You may just be the most hilarious person I've ever met in my life. Today I took you to the AZ state fair for the first time. We had such a great time together. I actually think you're more enjoyable to be around - at two - then most adults are. You walked the whole fair, never complained and had a so much fun. Certainly if your daddy had been there, he would have complained about how much we walked, how much everything cost and what else we could be doing instead!

There was a baby there, playing on the jungle gym with you. You put him in a headlock and gave him a great big hug. And then you got very perplexed when he started to cry. Somehow, the bear hugs we've taught you to give mommy and daddy don't translate very well to kids smaller than you. You've spent a lot of this last year hearing me say "love from a distance!" But you are such a good little mommy. When you drop your baby dolls, you pick them up and say "I sorry baby. You ok baby?" You want so desperately to have a little baby of your own to love - though you are not happy in the least if mommy holds a real baby!!

When we were walking around, you found a piece of popcorn on the ground and bent down to pick it up, saying "mommy, I hungry!" Luckily, I knocked it out of your hands before you got it in your mouth. So, we went and got corn on the cob instead (cuz I still won't let you eat popcorn and you'll probably be 37 before I ever let you!). You were the cutest thing, just sitting there, eating your corn. Until a couple kernels fell on the ground. You bent down, picked them up and ate them, all before I could say a word. After I was done throwing up in the nearest trash can (ok, not really...but honestly Soph - where did this eating food off the ground thing come from??) we went and sat down at a table where you ate the rest of your corn and part of mine. If only I could get you to eat broccoli like that. (Or Barackoli, as your daddy calls it. Yeah, he's weird. But he's allll yours!)

Anyway - all that history to get to our life lesson for tonight. When we first walked into the fair, there was a cute little group of ponies that you could ride on. You weren't even the least bit interested until I asked you if you wanted to ride them. I thought it would be so cute to get a picture of you on the pony and watch your expression as you rode them. But, after I paid my $6 for you to ride the little thing, I started to get sad. The little ponies just walked around and around in a circle, with a metal bar pushing them in the backside to make them walk, stepping in their own poo poo. In all my excitement to create another memory for you (documented in pictures on my blackberry, of course) I lost sight of the fact that I would NEVER support that type of business if I had been thinking clearly!! So, here's hoping you learn this a lot sooner in life then your mama did...even though it may seem like a fun experience, try to really think about what you'll accomplish before you jump right in. (Especially if you ever think about drinking, smoking, trying drugs, sneaking out of the house or fighting with your mother).

Otherwise, you might just end up walking around in circle, ankle deep in poo.

Remember...no one loves you more than me!
XOXO, Mommy

2009-10-18T15:59:00.000-07:00

Dear Sophie.

Today at church, Pastor Greg was talking about the scandalous love that God has for all of us. I am so grateful for you, because being your mom helps me to understand God better and why He loves us the way He does. I get it, because it's the same way I love you! ;-)

Anyway...when you and I got home, we were walking in the house and you said, "Mommy - where's Jesus?" And I told you, "He's in our hearts". To which you replied with a follow-up question of "in our heart boxes, mommy?"

It's moments like this when I can't figure out if I should laugh, cry or think you're the smartest kid on the planet. Your favorite show - Ni hao, Kai-lan - strikes again. On one of the episodes, Kai-Lan goes to China. It's a very big deal for her, and she takes her most prized possessions with her inside of her very special heart box. She shows the people she loves what she has inside her heart(box) and it's super sweet. I can't begin to understand how you could possible equate the two concepts (Jesus in our hearts vs special treasures in our heart boxes) but I am so proud and in awe of you.

I couldn't even correct you, because technically I think Jesus would be in our heart boxes, if we had them. I know this, my sweet Sophie...you are definitely in MY heart, box or not.

Love,

your mommy

2009-10-18T15:06:00.000-07:00

I haven't blogged for so long - which is really the recurrent theme of this blog, I suppose. But for reasons I can no longer ignore, I must blog again. This time, however, it's for one solitary purpose...

My sweet baby girl is shockingly, speedily, unabashedly growing up before my eyes. I haven't blogged about her for so long because (I justified, to myself) I was busy being consumed in the day to day of her being. I couldn't spare a moment to write about her, because I was so busy being with her. I try to randomly post on facebook the exciting moments of the day, and capture her sweet moments in pictures shot on my blackberry. But, it's getting harder and harder to remember all the funny, sweet, wonderful moments with my baby girl - who's not so much of a baby anymore - and I need to start writing them down.

For example, I just had to leave this blog and my train of thought to run into the other room when I heard across the monitor "Mommy!!! I need help with my diaper!!!" Upon entering the room, I found Sophie quite distressed, with a diaper in her hand and no diaper on her naked body. "Sophie," I said, "did you take your diaper off?" Her reply? "No mommy. Diaper came off. Sophie no take diaper off!" Relieved that there was no poo in the diaper, I put it back on and happily obliged when she asked, "Mommy, rock you again please?" Who could resist that? So I did, and she protested being tired but quickly fell asleep in my arms. Ahhh...there is TRULY nothing better in the world.

I digress. Back to the future of the blog. In an attempt to slow down time and capture the sweet and wonderful moments of childhood, I'm changing the format of these updates. They'll now be letters to my darling Sophia - similar to the private journal and letters I've been writing to her since before she was born. But, I promise to put the sweet and funny ones out here, for all of you following along in this world wide web of ours. Feel free to check in, have a laugh and share in our tender moments. Just know that I've found a new audience I'm desperate to write for - my two year old daughter.

2009-09-12T00:36:00.001-07:00

Test blog from my phone! :)

2009-04-13T16:24:00.000-07:00

To the creaters of the game, Elefun (aka Hasbro),

I purchased your game for my nearly two year old daughter this weekend, on the advice of a friend of mine. And, I have a few words for you...

1. Your game is not "a trunk full of fun", as you advertise. In fact, it's not even close. You see, "full" indicates to me that there's a lot of something. Your game gives me 24 "butterflies" that shoot out of the 4 foot trunk in about 4 seconds. Then it takes 5 minutes to relocate said butterflies, shove them back in the trunk and play for another four seconds. I think this might qualify as cruel and unusual punishment, not fun. In fact, my child has more fun watching pee-pee flush down the toilet, standing guard, ceremoniously waving bye-bye as she chants "bye-bye pee-pee, bye-bye pee-pee" AND it lasts longer than your game!

2. Your "butterflies" - if you can call a little tiny piece of fabric (is it fabric? is it paper?) stapled in the middle a butterfly - need some improvement. Can you please maybe weight some of them differently so they don't ALL fly out of the trunk at the exact same time? This might result in the game lastly slightly longer and giving me an actual shot at catching some of the darn things in the fish nets provided.

3. Your game says you don't need to read anything, in order to play. But, I had to read that to figure it out, didn't I? Maybe you should change that to say "no instructions needed for play"? Though a few instructions for how to make the game last longer would be nice!

4. Are you parents? Do you play these games at home with your own children before you put them on the market? Can you tell me how to make my game go in slow motion like it does on tv?

5. What is it about this silly game that makes my daughter say "watch mommy" everytime the butterflies come shooting out? Yeah kid...I know they're coming. And in a couple seconds, you can watch me pick them all up. And shove them back into the trunk. Over and over and over again. "watch Sophie...watch mommy lose her mind!"

I can't wait to see what games you'll come up with next!

2009-02-22T19:59:00.000-08:00

I am as white as white comes. I don't mean that as in the color of my skin...though it certainly applies. But culturally, I am as vanilla as you can get.

My family has lived in America for generations. And, when you trace back our lineage, you'll find we originated from...England. So, boring, white and protestant. It's been bred in me for centuries.

I've always longed for something more. When a good friend of mine married into a Lebanese family, I thought...why can't that be me?? The singing, the dancing, the food...I love it all!

And then there's the Jewish friends the Hills know and love. I'm convinced it's rubbed off on me. The history, the rituals, the love...the eight days of presents! And, who am I kidding? The guilt?? Come on...I think Judaism runs in my veins. With all the Mozel Tov's we heard after Sophia was born, I started thinking maybe I am Jewish! (Read my back history of posts to find out why I was convinced I was Jewish when I was growing up!)

My neighbors are Filipino. We went to their wedding in San Diego, which was incredible. Add in to the mix that they're Catholic, and you have a recipe for the most beautiful celebration for 600 of your closest family and 6 white friends that you've ever seen. I desperately wished I was Filipino after that! In fact, anytime the mother-in-law comes over to their home, I make sure I get invited for dinner. Have you ever been in a home where there were so many family members under one roof, that the walls vibrated with their energy? And none of them were fighting!! That's what it's like every time I go into their home. It's amazing. And it's NEVER happened in my family. About the only time the walls have ever vibrated with super-charged energy in my family's home is when I told my grandfather to keep his opinions of my personal life to himself. Only, I used some rather choice language...in front of my entire family. I was very young and it was definitely NOT one of my finer moments. :( I've never seen so many eyeballs pop outta heads and fall on the floor at one time.

But last night, I realized my true cultural heart's desire. I wanna be a latina! We took Sophia to her first Quinceanera last night. And it was our first one too. I really had no idea what to expect. First of all, our friend's daughter was wearing a dress that may have actually been nicer than my own wedding dress. Second, the entire place was decorated like we were at a wedding. But, that's where the similarities ended. Because, at a wedding, you've got to share the stage with your beloved. And at a Quinceanera, it's ALL about the girl. The entire evening was filled with dinner, dancing and tributes...all in honor of the most beautiful girl in the room that night. Then, when it seemed like it couldn't get any better, our friends gave their daughter a beautiful pair of new shoes, a larger crown than the one she was already wearing and a gorgeous necklace. When I turned 15, I think I got some clothes from Mervyn's.

I definitely drew the short straw when God was handing out heritage!

So, the next time you have to go to one of your family gatherings, steeped in tradition, don't grumble about it. Think about how lucky you are to have it! And, if you really don't want to go...invite me instead. I'd LOVE to go! :)

2009-02-17T20:22:00.000-08:00

Rookie Initiation???

I try to keep my stories on this blog somewhat light-hearted. But, there are some situations that cross my path, where I have to make a choice. Either I can curl up in the fetal position and cry, or I can laugh hysterically. Since God blessed me with an abundant supply of humor, even if it is sometimes sick, sadistic or morbid, I choose to laugh. Because it's the only thing that keeps me moving forward in life!

My husband called tonite, to tell me he wouldn't be calling me on his lunch break. Instead, he had to take "a call". He then preceded to explain the call he would be "taking" wasn't actually a call, but rather a high risk traffic stop.

What makes a traffic stop high risk, you might ask? Well, a number of things. Stolen cars, known offenders, kidnapping, etc. What type of high risk traffic stop will my husband be making?

Oh...nothing too serious. Just the kind you have to make when you've been following people who are transporting MURDER SUSPECTS. Lovely...

As I felt my body enter a state of hyperventilation, my sensible husband told me not to worry. He's just pulling over the transporters...not the actual MURDERER.

Oh. Well....I see. That makes it so much better! I'm glad you cleared it up for me, because I'm sure they're stand-up citizens who pay taxes, go to church and help old ladies cross the road. What am I worried about?? I'm sure they NEVER use guns when transporting CRIMINALS who "allegedly" kill other people!!!

Calm as a cucumber, my husband continued to chat briefly with me, as I could hear his radio going off in the background, the dispatcher giving his location and providing a blow by blow of what they were expecting to go down. And they wanted Andy to take the call, since he's been working on his own and will be fully released to his new team next week. So...they gotta see what he's made of, I guess.

"Well...I better go now. I kind of need to listen, cuz it's gonna be my turn in a minute."

Your turn??? Are you using the slide at a playground?? Red rover, red rover...send someone ELSE right over!!

That's when my funny bone got an itch. It is kinda humorous to think about what's in a day's work for most people. And how even scary jobs can get monotonous. I certainly will not win the "most exciting" "most random" or "most absurd" day at work awards in the hill house any longer!

So, I hope you enjoyed that and got a snicker or two. All laughing aside, I'm gonna go say a prayer or two, just in case those "transporters" don't turn out to be the friendly kind.

So, kiss your loved ones and be thankful when they come home every night. And don't forget to laugh at the ridiculous things you come across in life. It could always be worse!

2009-02-10T00:17:00.000-08:00

Ladies...have you noticed that our men are lacking something?? Sure, they're strong, brave providers. Maybe you're lucky enough to have one highly evolved enough to help with house work or the babies. Perhaps even a lucky few of you experience a charge from the intellectual stimulation your man provides. But still. Is it just me, or is common sense in short supply these days?

After sending my husband off on a shopping trip to IKEA (with a shopping list so detailed, it included everything except the actual latitude and longitude location of the items), my handsome man arrived home several hours later. He walked to my office - located at the front of my home - and knocked on the window. I looked through the blinds at my love, standing in the rain, asking me to let him in to the house.

"Where are your keys", I asked?

"I lost them" came his simple reply.

Lost them, I wondered? Huh. This requires further investigation. Especially since I realized that the last few weeks, upon returning home from a day of running my errands, we'd have a scene similar to this one, where Andy would ask to be let into the house.

"Lost them where?" I probed.

"I don't know."

"You don't know where you lost them, or you don't know if you really did lose them?"

I nearly fell off my seat when he answered me with "well, that stupid key chain you gave me came loose and the key fell off. "

Wow. OK. More questions. Where did the key fall off? Did you notice the key fell off? How long have you been sans key (and subsequently, how long has a key to my home been floating out in the ether somewhere???) Of course, the answer to all my questions was, "I don't know."

But, he thinks the key "might" be in the garage somewhere. Finally, Andy bribed me with the promise of a starbuck's chai tea so I would open the front door. As I walked through the house, a thought occurred to me...

Andy finishes he job as a "sanitation worker" long after Sophia and I are in bed. And, unless I'm sleepwalking, I'm pretty sure I haven't been letting him into our home (our locked home!) in the middle of the night. So I asked him the dreaded question.

"Andy...how do you get INTO the house every night after work??"

Can you guess his response???

He comes in through the doggie door. After hopping two fences and using his flashlight to navigate through our backyard. Oh. My. Heavens.

So ladies, I ask you. How many times would you do that before you got a spare key made for yourself? I'm betting once would be all it would take.

One side note. Last week, I noticed a flashlight in my backyard late at night. I grabbed my gun and nearly shot my husband as he was coming through the doggie door. (OK, so the gun wasn't loaded. But I could have thrown it at him if he was an intruder!) When I asked him what he was doing, he casually mentioned that he forgot his key. Forgot to mention he LOST his key was more appropriate!

You can bet my doggie door will be locked up tight as a drum from now on. So, Andy will either be sleeping in his car or getting a spare key made!!

2009-02-02T21:01:00.000-08:00

If you had to pick one word to describe yourself...what would it be?

I can think of words for many of you (at least, those of you who I know are reading this blog). Kind, intelligent, giving, loving, efficient, effervescent...the list goes on and on.

But for myself? I guess the word I would have to pick would be scrappy. As in, resourceful - in creative, unconventional ways. What? You thought I could really limit myself to one word??

I'm happy to see that this trait seems to have passed directly to my daughter. Whether through DNA or osmosis, it's unclear. But she is definitely nothing, if not resourceful.

Recently, Sophia has discovered that bath water is not only effective for getting clean or splashing other people with. But it is - apparently - quite delicious to drink as well! And, while I can remember fondly how much I loved to drink out of a garden hose when I was a kid (which might explain a lot!) it now occurs to me that drinking bath water is probably not the best of ideas.

The other night, I watched as Sophia scooped bath water from small, brightly colored bath toys and poured it into her mouth. She was delighted with her impromptu tea party, and I was slightly mortified...considering the number of times I've observed her tinkle in the bath tub.

I immediately took all the cup shaped toys away, thinking I'd out smarted her. Ha! As if!! This child bent down and scooped the bath water with her hands, poured it into her mouth and then sucked all remaining water drops off her fingers...while she looked smugly at me, as if to say, "well - you can't take my hands away!"

I tried to stiffle my hysteria and admonished Sophia for her poor choice in beverages. She knew it was clear I meant business and there would be no more drinking from the tub. So, she did what any scrappy young lady would do...

She walked to the front of the tub, turned her face to the side, and stuck her head under the running tap, taking a good long drink. After which, she turned and laughed at me, delighted with herself.

It was at this moment that my heart swelled with pride, as I realized there would be no obstacle in this world that would stand in the way of what Sophia wants to accomplish. I know now that she has the wherewith-all to take on anything life throws at her way. Because, she's inherited her mother's scrappiness.

And when I say scrappy, I mean resourceful, in creative ways. Others might call it stubborn. It's six of one, half dozen of another. But you get the idea!

2009-01-28T19:58:00.000-08:00

The hill house has been ravished by a violent version of the stomach flu since last friday nite, and I've been dying to post this blog. So, my apologies for the delay!!

****************************************************************

Ever since Sophia has learned to talk, we've delighted and rejoiced in every word she's uttered. But, it brings us particular joy when she's able to use whatever new word she's learned in the right context. Or in a cleaver way. Like how she calls every piece of fruit an "apple", or how she loves to get our attention to tell us a sentence. My favorite is "Mommy...mommy...mommy...Hi Mommy!"

But last Friday night she got the word and the context right. I had gotten Sophia up after a late afternoon nap and brought her down for dinner. She sat in her high chair with a glazed over look, and refused to eat anything. I sort of shrugged it off for a bit, assuming she was still tired. After some time, I realized I'd seen the look that Sophia had on her face before. It was the look of a drunk person. Or rather - I realized too late - the look of a drunk person right before they pukety-puke.

And so it began. Sophia heaved and hoed all over her high chair. At some point, I thought I should pick her up, as her little body was convulsing from the intensity of the act. Big mistake...pukety-puke all over me. Agh!

It took all I had to keep holding her, when all I wanted to do was put her down. Am I a terrible parent? But I took her over to the sink, in hopes that anything left would be headed for the drain. It was at this moment, when Sophia looked at me in the eyes, and with a little desperation in her voice said..."All DONE Mommy! All DONE!"

Yes! The right word in the right context!

Alas...sadly it was not to be. While she wanted to be done, she most certainly was not.

But, as I took my little pukety punkin up to the bath tub, I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. The right word! In the right context!!

I just KNEW something good would come from all that Sesame Street we watch! ;-)

2009-01-13T10:52:00.000-08:00

Life in the Fabulous Lane

As you probably know by now, if you've been reading this blog on a regular basis, or are friends of the hill house - we own a restaurant. And I know many of you have thought it's a really cool thing. You've been supportive and interested, maybe even a little envious. But rest assured when I tell you this...it is decidedly NOT fabulous to own a restaurant.

Many times I am asked in conversation, "How's the restaurant?" There's no easy way to answer this question, so (as you've probably noticed) I'll give a quick answer about the economy and we're luckier than most. If you catch me on a bad day, it might be more along the lines of "well, we haven't burned it down yet...but we're thinking about it!"

So, I thought I'd give you a little example of the dirt I deal with on a daily basis. So you have some frame of reference. It's kind of funny...when it happens to someone else!

A few days before Christmas, I got a phone call from the general manager (who happens to be my sister). She was fuming, because the night before a manager had accepted a personal check from some random customer for payment. It wasn't just any check, it was a check for $231.82. Let me stop right here and remind you...we sell PIZZA. How much pizza do you have to eat to run up a tab for $231???

I suppose the bigger question should be this...would YOU take a check for $231 for pizza? Doesn't that just scream FRAUD! to you?? Or is it just me?

I'm sure you know where I'm going with this. A few days ago, I got a copy of a returned check in the mail. For $231.82. You're shocked, aren't you? Of course, there's no telephone number on the check, so no way for me to contact this customer. And now I'm on the hook for this money. ARGH!

If, after all my advice, you still think you want to own a restaurant - consider this...open a BAR instead. Sell liquor and accept cash only as your method of payment. Trust me - you'll thank me later!

2008-12-31T21:29:00.000-08:00

How did you spend your New Year's Eve?

I have so many funny stories from over the holidays that I'm dying to blog about, but none that can hold a candle to what happened tonight. So, I must start at the most recent and work my way backwards.

When someone asks you how you spent your New Year's Eve, what will you tell them? Here will be my answer...

"I spent it in handcuffs."

I kid you not. And it wasn't for some heinous crime I committed. No...not unless you consider marrying the love of your life and supporting him through his life's ambitions a crime. Which I might, after tonight.

As you may well know, Andy has reentered the crime fighting scene. Having recently graduated the academy (again), he's preparing for life on the streets in FTO, or Field Training. To make sure he's 100% on his game, he makes me do some "role playing" with him.

You know..."Hey - let's pretend I'm a big scary policeman and you're a naughty, naughty criminal..." I know you're playing those games at home too - don't lie! But his really are for practice, and I'm (mostly) happy to oblige him.

Until tonight. Or until after tonight, I should say.

Here I was, at home. Making dinner for my family. When all of a sudden, Andy wants to practice his "handcuffing" techniques. And so, that's how I found myself in the middle of my kitchen, hands locked together behind my back, in the tightest of all restraining devices. Which was all well and good until he went to unlock them. And they wouldn't budge.

OK. It's fine. He's gonna get another key and have me out in a jiffy. Or so I thought!

Here he comes with the big universal handcuff key. The one that unlocks any handcuffs...except the ones on my wrist. I can feel him start to panic. Which sends me into full fledge panic. And all I can think about is this:

I steaming lobster claws. At $10/pound. And I can't get my hands out from behind my back to get the lid off the steamer and pull them out. They're going to be RUINED. OMG!! My baby's in her highchair and I can't get to her. What if she needs me? What if something HAPPENS and I can't help her. I'm going to have to call the police. OMG - I have to call the POLICE! Someone needs to get me out of these handcuffs!! I can't breathe...oh my goodness, I can NOT BREATHE!!! Do we own bolt cutters? I wonder if any of our neighbors own boltcutters??? Why did I let him handcuff me? I'm going to kill him...I'm going to KILL HIM!

When all of a sudden, the doorbell rings. Here come my mom and my aunt - just in time for the dinner I can't finish making. To a house full of crazies, running around with handcuffs on.

I'll cut to the end, cuz the middle included parts of me screaming obscenities to my husband, in front of my child. Threatening his life and coercing my family to testify that Andy was an unfit parent at the upcoming custody hearing...which I would be scheduling as soon as I was free from the handcuffs!

But, it turns out the pair of handcuffs he used were some special version that are thinner and use some different key - which he finally found. So, for the moment, our marriage is still intact. But there will be no more role playing in the hill house...let that be a lesson to you all!

Can I tell you how itchy your nose gets the minute you get in handcuffs?? It's rediculous! So, if for no other reason, let that be a warning to you about committing a crime. Don't do it - you won't like the handcuffs!

Happy 2009!!!

2008-12-16T21:42:00.000-08:00

I had a my brush of "what it would be like to be on reality tv" tonite, and I didn't like it.

I'll have to start at the end and work my way backwards. I got a phone call from my sister who told me I might want to hang up Andy's cell phone. Huh?? What was she talking about?

"Oh!" She said, "Sophia called me about 15 minutes ago, and she hasn't hung up yet. "

Crap! What could she have possibly heard from the last 15 minutes? Turns out, everything! Including the little fight we were having. Lovely, lovely, lovely.

I racked my brain to figure out anything heinous or compromising I might have said, and more importantly, whether I had mentioned my sister at any point.

That's when she filled me in on all the details. 16 minutes earlier, she and I had ended a conversation on Andy's cell phone. A conversation in which she had me laughing hysterically because she had called Andy's cell phone and was shocked at what she had heard - more on that in a minute.

After we ended the conversation, Andy wanted to know what was so funny that obviously involved him. I didn't want to tell him that I had changed the ring-back tone on his cell phone. I wanted to wait until someone, one of his buddies, called him and gave him a hard time for it. So, instead of answering his questions, I was quite evasive. I asked him things like had anyone called him today, or was he expecting a call. Unfortunately, these questions just made Andy more frustrated and made him speculate that I was up to no good - for obvious reasons! It was apparently during this time that Sophia got her hands on the cell phone and started dialing.

In between our tiff, we were watching the season finale of the biggest loser. Which I had to explain to my sister when she mentioned that she heard Andy say he was gonna go poo. See, in actuality, the part of BL we were watching had a girl miss being the prize winner by one pound. So, Andy made a joke about how she should have said, "I'll be right back, I'm gonna..." you can fill in the rest. But, since my sister had no frame of reference, she assumed he was talking about himself. And, by this point, her entire family was in the room, listening to our conversation on her speaker phone.

While my daughter was walking around, completely oblivious to us, with Andy's cell phone, saying "Hi!" repeatedly. Some parents we are, eh? Masters of observation, especially considering we were all in the same room!

Oh, and what was the ring back tone that had Andy so upset...why, it was Taylor Swift's version of "Santa Baby". I especially like the line of "I've been an awful good girl..." eheheheheheheh

OK, yes - it was totally wrong of me to torture my husband in this way. Though we did both have a great laugh when he started talking about all the possible people that could have called his phone and heard that song...especially when he started talking about his field training officer. I nearly fell off the bed laughing at that point.

But really, don't you think my sister should have hung up the phone??? I mean, come on...it's not like we're Nick and Jessica. We lost those newlywed filters years ago. A little common courtesy would be appreciated, regardless of Sophia's drunk dialing habits!

2008-12-02T19:48:00.000-08:00

I was unsure what I should title this blog entry. Some of my favorite options were:

How much trouble could a one year old really get in to (without a diaper on)? Or...
Why you should never give a toddler refried beans for dinner. Or....
I might just be the worst mom ever

Let me set the stage. Andy's off playing cops and robbers tonight, which means I'm home alone with Sophia. We had a great night together, and then we moved upstairs for our favorite bath, books, and bedtime ritual. After a fun bubble bath together, I realized just how much we missed daddy. Because there was no one around for me to hand the little wet princess off to!

We hopped out of the tub and I let my little naked girl run around the bedroom while I got my pj's on. Again, I thought to myself, how much trouble could she get in to? The sweet baby was sitting patiently, in her favorite squatting position, watching Elmo, while mommy got everything ready for her. I guess the squat should have given it away, but she sits like that all the time, so it didn't really occur to me that something would be off.

All of a sudden, I noticed that there was something in front of where she was squatting. I walked closer and realized that one of the dogs must have thrown up on the floor. The next few moments happened in simultaneous slow motion, and I think I actually had an out of body experience while it was happening. There's no good way to describe it, so instead, I'll give you the stream of consciousness my brain went through.

Huh. It looks like Anakin threw up. Interesting. That throw up appears to be attached to Sophia's bottom. Eeew. That throw up is still coming out of Sophia's bottom. Oh, my poor baby! She had diareeree and she just left it there and scooted behind it because she was embarrassed. Ech! The poop is everywhere. On her legs, her stomach, the rubber duckie she's holding...wait, what's that sucking sound? OMG!!!! There's poop on her face...in her hair...on her hand that's currently in her mouth. (dry heaving) My baby just ate POO!

I moved into action quickly, though I will admit there was a small part of me that wanted to go get the camera, for posterity's sake. However, I was too freaked out about the poo in mouth part, that I just wanted to get her back in the bath as quickly as possible. I scrubbed and scrubbed, then got her out, diapered and pj'd as fast as possible. It was at this point that I finally noticed the look of fear on my poor baby's face. She knew something was wrong, but it seemed like she wasn't sure how or why she got to that point. I had been thinking while I was cleaning her up about whether you should discipline a child for eating their own poop. I decided the punishment was truly in the crime itself, and the look on Sophia's face confirmed that for me!

Once she was squared away, I had the mess on the carpet to deal with. While wiping everything up, I noticed something that looked like giant bug wings flipping all over the carpet. That's when I realized they were actually the casings from the pinto beans - which led me to the epiphany on why refried beans are not toddler friendly. It was during this time that I was able to answer questions in my head like, "Can you still really love your child after she eats her own poo" and "Can you clean up poo ground in to the carpet without actually losing your own dinner"? I'm proud to answer yes to both of these questions, though I did resist kissing her mouth as I tucked her in bed. What?? I made a judgement call. I'm human! You would have done the same thing! And hey...I might just be the worst mom ever. But she'll forget all about it by the morning!

2008-11-21T16:15:00.000-08:00

Are there any good people left in the world?

OK...I know there are. Because I surround myself with them. Surely if you're reading this, it's because you're one of those great people I speak of.

However, if you've ever wondered to yourself what kind of morons out there cause some of the most rediculous caution notices on anything from plastic bags to coffee cups, I'm about to tell you exactly who those people are.

They are people who shouldn't be left alone unsupervised in the world. They are greedy, money-hungry, rotten people. And they are people responsible for some of the most rediculous warning signs - like the one that will be appearing in our restaurant bathroom soon that reads:

"Caution!! Please sit on and use potty at your own risk. This store assumes no liability for any injury or potential injury that may result from using this restroom. Proceed with caution. Thank you!"

And if you think I'm kidding, please give me your email address and I will send you the most absurd email I've ever received. From an individual who either wants my insurance company to pay for, or she will sue me for, injuries received when she fell off my potty in the bathroom at the restaurant.

You see, she used to be extremely active. And, since falling off my potty, she is now hardly able to walk, let alone enjoy the quality of life she previously enjoyed. So, as you sit around in the evening and watch some great, mindless sitcoms...think of me, as I'm filing claim forms with my insurance company for people who are unable to remain seated when required to do so.

P.S...my public service announcement to all of you...never, ever, ever...no, not ever, should you open a restaurant.

2008-10-29T21:43:00.000-07:00

I've had glimpses over the last 14 months. Little snapshots of the future ahead of me. Or, perhaps flashbacks of the life behind me. Things that indicate that life with my daughter will be anything but ordinary, easy going or carefree!

Tonight we had a halloween party at gymboree. It was a fun night for all the little kiddos to come in costume, participate in some fun activities, make crafts, eat too much sugar and generally cause a ruckus. All of which Sophia enjoyed...except for the costume part.

I should explain. On Saturday last week, we were instructed to bring our children in costumes to their gymboree class. The kids would have their pictures taken, participate in a little parade and we would all admire how adorable they were. Before class while we were at home, I put Sophia in a bumblebee costume that was basically the equivalent of a dress with wings on the back. Nothing on her head, nothing on her face. She threw herself on the ground, screaming, nearly hyperventilating, and pulling on the costume, as if it was burning her skin somehow. I ripped it off her body, grabbed a different costume* and ran out the door.

When we arrived at our class, late - of course, Sophia was the only child not wearing her costume. I quickly slipped her in to the second costume...an adorable hershey's kiss! She started crying as soon as I pulled the body of the costume over her, but my mom was there, taking pictures. So, I put the hat on her head. At this point, sheer hysteria broke out in the gym and Sophia ripped the hat of her head while all the other children stood frozen in fear, wondering what terrible, random act had just occurred. Being the great parent that I am, I stuck it on her head once more, when the gym owner came over and wanted to take her picture. I have a copy, so I'll figure out how to scan it in so you can all see how unhappy and miserable she was!

Which brings us to tonight. The Halloween party. We walked in tonight to a fall festival wonderland. And 24 children, all there before us, all dressed in costumes. There were monkeys and super heros, cheerleaders and fairy princesses. And then there was Sophia. In jeans and a t-shirt. Obviously different and out of place. And she didn't even bat an eye. She played with all of her buddies and didn't seem to notice anything different about them. As if the fur they had grown overnight wasn't even there. She participated in all of her activities as if she were the belle of the ball and didn't seem to mind that anything was out of place. And, at a certain point, when every single child and their family members were in the center of the room, Sophia went over to the side of the room where the music was playing and rocked out, dancing all by herself.

I love so many things about tonight. But I'm hopeful about two. That she's already demonstrating her individuality...that she refuses to conform to what everyone else is doing, she knows what she wants and what she doesn't. I hope that pattern continues for the rest of her life...though I know it's going to give me some challenges in the coming years! And, that she so readily accepted and embraced the differences in others. It's this quality that I want so desperately to cultivate. It's why I expose her to as many people and experiences as I can. In order to shrink the vastness of the world around her, and expand her tolerance for people and things that are different.

So, if I am complaining to any of you at some point about the brink my headstrong, stubborn child has pushed me to, please gently remind me that I want to encourage her little spirit in this world, not push her in to the box of polite society. And, if you can, resist the urge to draw comparisons to her equally stubborn mother. Trust me when I tell you that my own mother has cornered the market on this one!

*Yes. I have several costumes that I can choose from. My sister saved all of the costumes my mom made when her kids were younger. And, aren't I lucky?? Can you imagine if I actually spent money on these costumes she refuses to wear???

2008-10-03T19:12:00.000-07:00

Sophia in one of her food strikes where she refused to eat anything besides strawberries and crackers...with a cutie like this, you would give in too!

2008-10-03T18:20:00.000-07:00

I'm aware of the fact that when God was handing out good looks, great bodies and impressive intelligence, I was (as usual) late to the table. So, I got the leftovers, which happens to be a great sense of humor. Even if it's not funny to you, there's usually humor in it for me.

Don't believe me? Ask my husband what annoys him the most about me. He'll tell you it's my sense of humor. Specifically, my inability to control it. More specifically, my inexplicable, uncontrollable, irrational ability to laugh anytime someone gets hurt. I can't help it...I find the humor in so many things that I can't help laughing, even when it's completely inappropriate. Which in my case, is pretty often.

As a result of my unique "gifting" I believe that God puts experiences in my life to make me laugh. As if, somehow, we share private jokes about the universe. When I share with my friends some of the crazy and unbelievable trials I go through - which sums up the majority of my life experience - I often here "I don't know how you do it". To which I so often reply..."I laugh. Because there's really no other option."

When given the choice of laying in the corner, naked and sobbing, in the fetal position (metaphorically speaking), or chuckling to myself and thinking "of course - why the heck wouldn't it turn out that way?" I usually pick option B.

All of this to tell you about a random experience in the course of 24 hours that I found insanely laughable. And I hope you do too. But, I wanted to give you the background so you'd know why the punch line struck me as hysterical!

Yesterday, after reading "Brown Bear, Brown Bear" to Sophia for the 1,487th time, and realizing that I couldn't "bear" to read any more of her favorites, I decided it was time to make our first trip to the library. I knew we had a library card and a library close by, though I'd never been. More surprisingly, I knew exactly where the library card was. So, I loaded Sophia and our library card in the car, and off we went.

In case you've never had the joy of experiencing it, taking an active and loud toddler to the library is like herding cats...blindfolded. You can't move fast or nimbly enough to prevent chaos from occurring. I tried to minimize the collateral damage and quickly asked how many books we were allowed to check out - 35 was the response.

I amassed our large supply and headed to the counter with a 1 year old, a gigantic diaper bag and a mound of precariously balanced books. I proudly handed over my library card and waited for the librarian to finish our checkout process.

Oh...if only!

Instead, she asked me when I had last used the card. Well...never, I eplained to her. Aha! She told me of the problem before me. "Library cards must be renewed annually, or they are canceled. Unless you have a late fee on them."

[scratch head dumbfounded, chase toddler around the library, remove trash can from toddler's hands, drag toddler literally kicking and squealing - in a library - back to check out stand]

"So," I asked, "are you telling me that if I had checked out a book three years ago and never returned it, my library card would remain active. But, because I never used a free card that costs you nothing to maintain active, I have to apply for a new one???!!!"

Librarian's response..."It would appear that way...yes."

Alright. How hard could it be to get a library card? Turns out, very. Even though I had my driver's license, it wasn't good enough. I needed something else with my name and address on it. Like a water bill. Hmmm.....if only I had thought to put that in my diaper bag on the way to the library with my LIBRARY CARD! Finally, seeing the desperation in my face and (I'm guessing) not wishing to hear my child scream any longer, she asked me if I had any other form of ID with my picture on it.

I had my Costco card, which was accepted! Praise God - we would finally be leaving this place!! Until she gave me the kicker of bad news.

"You can only check out 5 books the first time you use your card."

Oh my heavens...now I have to pick 5 from the stack of 35 carefully selected books??

"Fine - I'll take the first 5 on top. Can I return them tomorrow and check out the rest?"

Her answer blew me away..."Oh, you don't even have to return them. You can come back tomorrow and check out the rest."

Huh. As if somehow holding 5 books in my home for 24 hours makes me a stand-up citizen, worthy of checking out 30 more. I don't have to prove that I'm able to return books. Just that I am able to return to the library, 24 hours later.

I would have stayed and argued this logic, but Sophia was in sheer meltdown at this point, running wildly through the library, knocking over everything she could reach. So, we left.

Time in library: 35 minutes

End Result: 5 free library books and less self esteem than I started with.

This morning, I went through the drive thru at the bank. I informed the teller that I forgot my bank card, but I had my drivers license. Could I still take cash out?

Not a problem she told me. Did I have another form of id?? Well yes, I told her...my Costco card. Good enough!

Time in bank line: 7 minutes

End Result: $350

You know it's tongue in cheek that I say this, since I work for Amex, but it seems appropriate...

"Costco cards...don't leave home without them!"

2008-09-11T13:01:00.000-07:00

For those of you who know and love me, you know there's nothing I love more than talking about politics. I don't think there's anything better than a good, healthy debate on the state of the union. And I recognize that others aren't as comfortable, so I made a pledge that I wouldn't impose personal political views on my blog. I don't like propaganda, no matter who's propagating it. So, you won't read it here.

But, I am calling for change.

Actually, begging for it.

In a really small, tiny voice that no one hears. And here's why.

As you know, the hill house owns a business. A small, little restaurant that's sucked the life and money out of everything we do, in search of that "American Dream". And we're holding on...by a thread...but holding on!

But here's what's gonna be the death of us...the taxes!

We get taxed on everything. Sales tax, employer tax, contributions to employee taxes, federal taxes, state taxes, city taxes, alarm permit taxes, liquor tax, consumption tax, and on and on and on...

Today I was looking over another "tax bill" that is for my property taxes. The problem is, I don't actually own any property - I lease it. For which I pay my share of taxes directly to my landlord. So, I called the number on the paper to kindly inform them that I don't need this tax bill, thank you very much.

Ah...but I stand corrected. It wasn't for property taxes, it was taxes on the property inside my store. I am being taxed on (and this is a direct quote) "the business equipment it takes to run [my] business, including kitchen equipment, tables, chairs, booths, counters and signage. "

You can imagine my response, I'm sure. Near the end of my hysteria, I asked why this sort of tax exists. And was given this answer, "Because it's the law".

Oh. Ok then. Well, that makes sense. Nevermind that I already PAID tax on all of this "equipment" when I purchased it, but now - for the next ten YEARS - I will be paying amortized tax on all the "equipment" that I need to run my business. Like my sign. And my countertops.

Oh HELL no.

Generously, the State of Arizona provides an exemption amount of $63,242 of equipment that you don't have to pay taxes on. You'll never believe the incredible coincidence of this, but that's exactly - to the penny - how much my "equipment" cost. Isn't that amazing?

So, I don't care who it is...but give me a President that will tax me less and give me a shot at actually making something out of my small business.

Or, sign me up for permanent government assistance.

2008-08-29T14:31:00.000-07:00

Raised In Captivity

For all of you who have looked at me in abject horror and fascination when you discovered that I have been holding my baby for every nap she's had since we brought her home from the hospital, this post is for you!

I broke down last weekend and decided that enough was enough. Sophia is one now, and has to learn to sleep on her own. But, since she can climb out of the crib*, I needed a safe place to put her. I decided to move the pack n play in to my room and let her try it in there. So, I put the psuedo-crib at the end of my bed and decided nap time would commence. I laid her in there, and then laid at the end of my bed. To comfort her. To reassure her. To support her in this transition from infant to toddler.

After having her scream for 30 minutes straight and try to claw her way out of the crib to me, I decided my support was better served from a neutral location where she could not see me. She cried for an hour and a half before finally falling asleep.

The next day, after hearing her cry for 20 minutes, Andy came upstairs and informed me that I was breaking his heart and I should stop this right now. I thanked him for his support and let him know if he turned on the tv downstairs, it would be harder to hear her cry. She cried for 45 minutes that day before falling asleep.

The next day, it was a mere 20 minutes of crying. The day after that, 30 seconds. Now, it's a brief squeal that's silenced the minute I am out of eye sight.

But here's the rub.

She won't stay asleep. And once she wakes up, she just sits there. And waits. And waits. And waits.

I've broken her little spirit so much, she won't even cry! She's learned that no matter how hard she cries, no one is coming to get her. So, she just sits in her little pen with Elmo and waits for someone to remember she is up there, and come get her.

Usually, she sits with her side and face pressed up against the mess, looking out the bedroom door, searching for some sign of human life. She reminds me of a caged animal. Our nanny said she's like a little kid in a refugee camp.

So, we're at an impass. She might have to sit in this thing, but she's not gonna sleep. I've included a picture I took from my cell phone so you could see how depressing it is.

And I ask you...what would you do in my position? I think we both know you'd go pick up that poor little peanut and cuddle her right back to sleep. Which is why I won't be putting her in her own bed at night time, any time soon. So don't ask!!

*and yes, I did drop the crib down to the lowest level. what do i look like, a monkey? ok...don't answer. but, it's not the crib. i just have a child who's incredibly gifted at climbing things. she gets that from her real dad. *

2008-08-07T10:58:00.000-07:00

Not to be outdone, Andy has a fabulous parenting moment last night.

After a very long day, he was on Sophia duty and trying to convince her that she should sit quietly in his lap and watch sesame street, so that he could close his eyes.

While I wasn't in the room, I can only imagine what kind of unsupervised activities were taking place, because Sophia had no interest in sitting anywhere...even if daddy was sitting there, presumably sleeping.

At some point, I peeked in the room to see my child standing and bouncing on her father's lap, with only one half of her diaper securely in place and a solitary butt cheek hanging out on its own.

I've been around this block enough times to know without going any further that this would be a recipe for disaster!

I gently woke Andy up (minus the gentle part) and very nicely encouraged him to get his bum up out of the chair and attend to our child. In a moment of disorientation, Andy looked around, took in the scene...and in his finest parenting moment, called out "SHIT"!

And yes folks, that's indeed what it was. There's no delicate way to put it...there was poo everywhere. On Andy, all over Sophia, on the chair, on the floor...and very quickly, all over me.

We cleaned up the mess as I continued to reinforce what a fabulous and attentive parent Andy had been while I was away. When suddenly, something caught his eye.

Over in the corner, behind her little play house, were 'piles of smiles' that Sophia had left behind, just for Daddy.

Funny what can happen when you're only wearing HALF of a diaper! ;-)

2008-08-07T10:49:00.000-07:00

I pride myself on making sure that everything Sophia puts in her mouth is the most nutritious it can be. As a result, she's a fantastic eater. She will gladly eat any vegetables, hummus, spelt grain waffles, beans and rice...you name it, this kid will eat it (unless it's a banana!)

As a result, I don't give her things with sugar very often, or overly sweet things - like juice. She loves drinking water, and we keep plenty of it around for her.

So, when she was sitting in her pack n play the other day, and picked up her sippy cup of water to drink, I didn't think anything of it. Until I saw the look of horror on her face after she took a drink.

I quickly scanned my memory banks and remembered that I might have given her a cup of juice to keep her entertained...about a week ago. I leaped across the room in a single bound, and ripped the cup from her hand. Twisting the lid off, I peered inside and found - to no one's delight - that it was, in fact, a cup of juice. And not just any juice, but very, very moldy juice.

Mmmm...yummy. Seconds, anyone?

2008-08-03T12:25:00.000-07:00

To all my peeps out there who give me a hard time about not sending out pictures of Sophia, I say this:

Yes, I'm a terrible mother! I should send out pictures on a regular basis. Or, any basis for that matter. But take heart...it's not that you're not on my distribution list. It's that I just don't send them. What can I say? My mom comes over and takes pictures of Sophia every week and then makes scrapbooks for her. Yes, I'm totally spoiled. But you would be too!

And for those of you who are worried that I might not be effectively documenting my child's life, I assure you I am. As you will see shortly over the next week, when I send you roughly 1000 pics of her first year of life! ;-)

But in the meantime, I'm posting these pics for you to show that:

a. My daughter does exist and is not some mere figmant of my (overactive) imagination

b. So you understand why I have no time to send out pics of said precious angel...these pictures were taken immediately after I turned my back for approximately 15 seconds. The bowl of CHILI was about 10 feet further than her little hands should have been able to reach. But, in true Sophia fashion, the minute I turned my head, she launched her "Go, go gadget arms" and this was the end result.

Just so you know...Andy and I had a debate on which would be worse...cleaning up the highchair and child, or cleaning the diaper that came after. For the record, I cleaned neither! ;-)

2008-07-31T16:22:00.000-07:00

***************Public Service Announcement*******************

I promise to post something funny tomorrow...but tonight, I wanted to offer this incredible public service announcement.

For those of you who haven't followed the story of Randy Pausch, you've got to watch his 'last lecture' on YouTube. I've posted a link below, but if it doesn't work, please google Randy Pausch, YouTube and "Achieving your childhood dreams". This man is truly an incredible inspiration. He passed away this last week, but his story will leave a legacy for generations to come.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ji5_MqicxSo

Here's to each of you...may you be equally inspired by this incredible human! :)

2008-07-30T21:24:00.000-07:00

I've been waiting for the right moment to bring this magnificent Phoenix out of its ashes.

Waiting...and waiting...

Hoping the perfect moment would appear. Desiring something so thought provoking, that you would read my post in utter amazement of both my wisdom and wit.

Failing that, I've had to settle for something just funny enough to make you snort milk up your nose while eating your cereal.

Tonight, I decided it was time to take my sweet, precious daughter down to the park in our neighborhood. We were in California earlier this summer, and she loved sitting and playing in the sand. So, we packed up her sand toys, put her in her new shiny red wagon and hauled her down to the park.

You know what's exciting? Seeing something new for the first time through your little one's eyes. Sophia stood at the edge of the sand playground and just took it all in, with wonder and amazement. I plopped down and started to show her how she could play in the sand.

"This isn't sand," I said to Andy..."it's like, rocks." (Ah, if only hindsight could be foresight)

Anyway, the little angel came over to dig in the sand with me. Until she discovered, like her mom a few minutes before, that the sand was really rocky. And then, before I could move fast enough, she shoved a large rock in her mouth.

"No, no Sophia!" I admonished her, removing the boulder from her mouth, throwing it across the yard. At which point, she promptly picked up another one and shoved it in her mouth. Which I picked out and threw across the yard. At which point she picked up another one and shoved it in her mouth.

I felt like I was on an out-of-control conveyer belt. I couldn't get to her hands or mouth fast enough to keep the rocks from going in there. And, in absolute horror, I watched as the rocks got smaller and smaller (read: became an even more dangerous choking hazard).

It was at this point that my incredibly astute husband said, "Pick her up!"

Riiiight. Pick her up! Because I can do that, and then she will stop. Good plan! Until, after picking her up, when I realized that she's got something still in her mouth and she's locked down her jaw, so I can't get it out.

Honestly, how do kids learn to torture their parents? I think I might have suffered a mini stroke on the playground. To which I pose this question...is parenting the hardest job in the world? Or, option two...do I have the most challenging child ever? Or, option three...is it true that I might be (as some have suspected) mildly retarded?

Because here's how it played out. I started freaking out and yelling at Andy. Who proceeded to stick his finger in to Sophia's mouth and so far down her throat that she gagged and almost threw up. At which point he was convinced that there was no rock in there, and I was quite certain that she was still hiding one in her check. I'm sure she swallowed at least one! We'll know for sure in a day or two.

But then Andy asked me the question that makes me question myself..."Hon. Why didn't you pick her up after the first time she stuck a rock in her mouth?"

And I became a little alarmed that the best answer I could come up with (in my head) was the following: "Because that's what I would do if it was one of the dogs?? Shouldn't telling her 'no' work at some point???"

So please pray for my child, 'the survivor', because that's truly what she is. I look around at people every day and think, "huh...your parents were smart enough to keep you alive...maybe there's still hope for me!"

2007-02-14T11:31:00.000-08:00

Fattie McFood

Can I share a real travesty with you? It seems like all through my twenties, I have been forced to take desperate measures to watch my weight. I've been on every diet you can imagine, tried every workout program out there...all to no avail. In fact, before getting pregnant, you'll remember that I was training in martial arts 3-4 times a week, working out harder than I ever had in my life. And the end result? I gained six pounds in seven months. I'm SURE it was all muscle!

So, when I got pregnant, I was so delighted to not be on a diet for what seemed like the first time in my life. I started out every morning with the biggest bagel I could find (whole wheat, of course!) and slathered that puppy with about four inches of the fattiest fat cream cheese available. Lowfat? No thanks...pass the full fat version please!

In fact, being pregnant has been my free pass to yummy it up at every opportunity. Now don't get me wrong...I am really careful about what I eat. And I totally make sure that the baby's getting all the fruit and vegetables that he or she needs. I spent three months drinking milk (yech!), just because it would help my baby's bones grow. I'm careful...it's just I no longer need to hold the mayo...literally! I ate everything I could get my hands on - all day, every day - for three months. I went to the dr at the end of my first trimester and LOST two pounds. This is my kind of diet plan!! So, why would I want to do anything to change that?

Imagine my disappointment today, when I went out to pick up lunch at a fast food place that shall remain nameless (Wendy's) and discovered that they have somehow made a decision to cleanup their fattie fat act. I ordered me a yummy combo with a chicken sandwich (grilled? yeah right!) with mayo and lots of veggies, and a baked potato with butter and sour cream. Because a baked potato is a much healthier choice than french fries. :)

I first started to suspect something was wrong while eating my sandwich. The mayo tasted - and looked - decidedly low fat. Ugh! But, at least I had enough pickles on my sandwich to cover up that low fat aftertaste! It was when I got home that I noticed the sad truth of my lunch. Unloading my baked potato out of the bag, I first reached for my butter. Which wasn't butter...it was "buttery-best spread".

Buttery-best spread??? Are you kidding me? And just for good measure it contained zero grams trans fat per serving. That's nice and all, but I'm growing another person here folks! I need my fattie fat butter!

At least I still had my sour cream. Which looked normal enough...until I flipped the package over and read these words, highlighted in green:

"reduced-fat"

[sigh]

Isn't the whole point of fast food that it's fattie food? I mean, that's the reason I would never eat at these places under normal circumstances. But given the fact that I need to continue my current pregnancy food intake, the least they could do is comply!

Oh well...guess I'll just go find a cookie to eat!

2007-02-07T12:39:00.000-08:00

Pregnancy Rage

I'd like to say that my pregnancy has, so far, been the most positive and beautiful experience. And for the most part it's been great.

If you don't count the e-Coli I got in week 6.

I mean, I haven't had any morning sickness. I've been able to keep my life at a somewhat normal pace. I still have my job (both of them actually!). I can't complain!

Except, now that I've entered in to what's considered the "best phase" of pregnancy - my second trimester - I've discovered a new and scary aspect of my pregnancy.

RAGE

I'm not sure where it comes from, but there are times when I've looked at my dear, sweet, darling husband and actually visualized (OK - fantasized) about smashing his head in with the nearest blunt object. And it's usually related to something critical in my life...like whether he'll go downstairs and get me a glass of water. Or, if he's made a reference to my ever-growing stomach. Scary, right?

Here's the really scary thing. It's not limited to him. I want to hurt other people too. Or, at a minimum, tell them how I REALLY feel about them. This is starting to become evident at work now, as my sweet, nice demeanor has been replaced by a she-devil. I've lost all ability to internally edit the words that actually come out of my mouth. Thankfully, since I work from home, I've been able to use my mute button in really critical situations where I realize I probably shouldn't say those things out loud. But, I'm pretty sure I've developed a rare condition called "pregnancy turrets".

Several months ago, a friend of mine (pregnant) told me a story about how she was really angry with her husband. She went looking for him in her car and was determined that if she actually found him, she might run him over with her vehicle. OK...no might. She was out trolling for a hit and run. Thankfully, she never found him. I remember laughing at her story and silently thinking we should call someone for help. HA! Now I AM her story. And I say...why limit it to husbands??

But mainly, my rage exists more in my emotionally well being. Or instability. A couple of weeks ago, Andy and I were out at the restaurant space one weekend day, planning to meet a couple of our contractors. When we walked in, we found the space empty and I quickly learned that he had not confirmed the time with one of the contractors. I promptly opened my mouth and told him what I thought of that in no uncertain terms. About 2 seconds after my rage rant, our second contractor walked in. At which point I turned, smiled and basically offered to make him cookies while my poor hubby stood motionless in a safe corner of the restaurant.

Is crazy genetic? Or will my kid have a fighting chance that maybe...just maybe...he/she could take after Andy instead of me??

2007-02-02T07:33:00.000-08:00

The longest pregnancy in history!

Ok, so tomorrow, I officially enter my 14th week of pregnancy. I feel like it should be my 14th month. Before getting pregnant, I felt like my life was flashing past my eyes at mock speed. I would simply blink and 6 months would go by. Now, every day seems like it's at least a week.

I'll give you two examples. A started teaching a drama class last year at my church. The planning started in October and I had just found out one of the other leaders was newly pregnant. When I talked to her last night, she told me she only has 10 weeks to go!!! How did THAT happen?

Another friend, who will probably be holding her sweet baby girl sometime in the next four weeks, will actually have her baby, take her maternity leave and come back to work. And I will STILL be pregnant. For another couple of months!

See what I mean? It's the world's longest pregnancy! Time has ceased to move at a normal pace in my world. I guess I should enjoy it. Lucky for you, it gives me plenty of time to have more funny pregnancy stories. Like the one below....

Several weeks ago, after meeting with our contractor on a Friday night, the three of us decided to head next door to the local margarita factory for some awesome mexican food happy hour. I was drinking my nice little virgin margarita, and no one had any idea of the little "secret" I was keeping.

Then, the owner of the restaurant came over. He talked to us for a long time, saying how happy he was that we were going to be opening our restaurant next door. How well we were going to do, etc. Then, he ordered shots of Petron tequilla for all of us. Only, Andy and I were the only ones who knew I couldn't have it.

I panicked. I didn't want this to be the moment that I reveiled my "delicate condition". So, I quickly hopped up from the table and made a beeline to the server. Luckily, no one seemed to notice my disappearance from the table. I told the server that I was pregnant and she couldn't bring me tequilla. I didn't care what it was, but it couldn't be tequilla!!

A few minutes later, she appeared with a tray of identical shots. She gave me a little wink and then handed me a special shot. Complete with a lime. We all took our shots, including me! Of course, Andy sat there looking at me like I had grown three heads. Later, as we left the restaurant, he chased me down in the parking lot.

"Hey! Fetal alcohol syndrome girl!! What the heck was that???"

"Oh!" I replied, "you mean my 'shot' of Sprite??"

He just looked at me and shook his head. "Unbelievable!"

Tell me this kind of thing happens to you???

2007-01-30T12:56:00.000-08:00

Surprise!!

I'm back!

I didn't leave you intentionally...it's me, not you. I just needed a little space to breathe. I thought it would be good if we saw other people. But, I missed you too much and I couldn't stay away. Take me back!!

No seriously...I am sorry I've stayed away for so long. The reason, which many of you may already know, is that I'M PREGNANT!!

I know...you're shocked, right?? A restaurant AND a baby? Yes, it's insane. But you already knew I was crazy, so hopefully it won't rock your world too much. And, because everything happening in my life over the past couple months revolved around this new little peanut, AND I didn't want to tell too many people about the baby before I got out of my first trimester, I just felt like I couldn't openly blog. And I certainly couldn't keep something like that from you. So, I took a break.

But now that I'm in my 13th week...(and breathing a little more regularly now!), I decided I needed to return to the world I so love...my own!! So - I'm back! And I promise to fill you in on all the good stories.

Fair warning...I've always been annoyed by those pregnant women who can talk about nothing else but the little person they're in the process of growing. I mean, honestly...don't they have anything exciting to talk about? Do they really think I care how many shades of paint it took to find the perfect pale green for the nursery walls? I don't!

Or I didn't, anyway!

But something really bizarre happens when you get pregnant. It's as if the life form inside of you sucks all ability for rational thought out of your head. I clearly remember driving down the road with Andy and one point and him asking, "What are you thinking about?" To which I replied, "Are you kidding me? I'm awake! There's only one thing that I could possibly be thinking about!"

I even found myself catching up with some old friends over the holidays. Let me set the scene for you...me and andy, another pregnant friend and her husband, a friend with a 3 month old baby and HER husband, and a cute gay man and his husband. I know, I know...you're singing a song to yourself from your sesame street days right? "One of these things is not like the other...one of these things is not the same..."

I even said to myself repeatedly...don't talk about babies, don't talk about babies, don't talk about babies...but what do you think we talked about the entire night???

BABIES!

It was annoying to me even, and I'm pregnant. I wanted to stick sharp objects into my eyes FOR them. It was like, "So, what's new with you?" And before they could answer, things were spastically coming out of my mouth which were baby in nature. OK, some things were ridiculous and slightly gruesome as well. Because if there's one thing I've learned in the last 3 months, it's that pregnant women are OBSESSED with their new and not-so-exciting bodily functions. And my poor friends had to sit through the whole thing.

But I couldn't help myself, I really couldn't. My body, mind and soul have been totally and completely taken hostage by this baby. And so, I give you complete permission to be annoyed if I talk about it too much, and even to take a break from reading this blog if you can't take any more. But I promise you this...I am the first one to make fun of my situation. I'll tell you to good, the bad and the ugly. And, I'll tell you funny stories that have nothing to do with babies.

Occasionally, that is. When I can break free from my captivity, that is!

2006-12-16T22:52:00.000-08:00

Andy and I are on our way to Georgia here in a few hours. Of course, ya'll know how much I hate to fly. It's a reminder of how fragile life can be - when you're sitting up there in the air, completely helpless. I'm sure we'll be just fine, but check the local papers if you don't hear from us in a week or two!

Anyway, I wanted to leave you with a funny story about my incredible husband. Have a wonderful holiday and happy new year if we don't talk to you before!!
=================================================================

This morning, my dear husband came back up to bed after letting our dogs out where we debated what things we were going to do first. Hand out fliers for Christmas Eve service? Attend the cookie tournament at Kung Fu? We were deep in groggy conversation when I heard an off sound coming from the back of our house.

At first, it sounded like someone skateboarding on the street. But as I laid there and listened to the noise, I realized it was more of a hollow, but solid sound. I've heard this sound before...it was almost like a pounding...but in water.

I jumped up from the bed and ran to the window. And there I saw my sweet little cocker spaniel puppy treading water in the deep end. "Charlie's in the pool, Charlie's in the pool!!" I yelled to Andy.

Before I could so much as take a breath, he lept out of bed, ran passed me and hopped from our second story to the landing below, running through the house, out the door and JUMPED into the pool. The freezing cold pool. The pool that's so cold at all times, my darling husband won't even get in it in the summer time. But there he is, pulling my scared and sopping wet dog out of the water.

We spent the rest of the morning, bathing, blow drying and warming up our dog. Who apparently can swim, but not towards the steps. We'll have to work on that this summer! But I was further reminded of the gem I'm married to and how I'd never want to be in an emergency without him!

2006-12-07T16:16:00.000-08:00

How not to attract attention when starting a restaurant

In anticipation of our grand opening...which won't be sometime until next spring...we decided to put up a temporary banner announcing that we're "Coming Soon"!

After several weeks of working with our sign person to get the perfect sign, it finally got installed last week. The sign maker called to see how well we liked it, so on Saturday we made a trip out to the store to see it.

Only it wasn't there.

Or anywhere else in the complex.

So we called him back. Was he sure it was installed? He was. Did he know where it was installed? He didn't. And after several attempts to get in contact with the installer and locate the sign, a decision was made to reprint the sign and have it reinstalled.

This week, while pulling up to the store, we noticed something very exciting...our sign!!

And the words "Grand Opening".

Slightly problematic, seeing as how we currently have no walls in the space, let alone tables or chairs. Or kitchen. Or food.

Guess how many people came by for the "Grand Opening"?

Lots.

Guess how many people got served?

None.

They must think we're running our own version of Punk'd.

So for any of you driving by Gainey Ranch and see our "Picazzo's Gourmet Pizza and Salads" banner and think, "Mmmm. Maybe I'll stop in for a slice!" Just keep on driving by...at least for now. But I promise you it'll be here sooner than you think...Staci, I'm sure by the next time you come in to town to visit Jacki, she'll be sitting at my bar in her permanent seat!!

2006-12-05T11:22:00.000-08:00

If you get an email one day that starts like this:

"Andrea, as I'm sure you already know, "Name of Contractor", working on your behalf, severed two fire sprinkler lines during their demolition work on Friday 12/1/06 inside Suite 104. I have attached the incident report for your reference and files."

And after you read it, your face looks like this:

Then you'll know exactly how I felt last night as I read this email from my landlord. I knew there had been "a little water leak", according to my contractor. What I wasn't prepared for was this description...

"It took 25 minutes for the backwater flow to exit, and during this time, the flood exited both ends of the store and in to the neighboring suite."

To put that in context for those of you who haven't seen the space our restaurant is going, it's 100 feet from the front door to the back door. How much water do you think has to be in a space for it to flood out both doors for 25 minutes?? Never mind, don't answer that question. I don't want to know.

Here's a different question...did any of you think to ask if I was on crack when I decided to open a restaurant?? Clearly, I must have been. And, I'm disappointed that none of you pointed that out. And you call yourselves friends.

Shameless!

And when we do finally open, make sure you bring some boots...cuz who knows what else might break lose!

2006-11-16T08:21:00.000-08:00

In other news...

While getting my hair cut yesterday, my stylist was asking me about whether Andy and I were going to start having babies.

When I started to hem and haw about it, she was surprised. I guess, the last time he was there getting his hair done, Andy told her that he really wanted to start trying to have a baby.

I thought that was so sweet, so I went home to tell him how precious that was.

And I said, "Honey, why didn't you tell me you wanted to start trying?"

To which he replied, "I meant I wanted to try to have a baby with her."

Funny man...I'd knock him out, but I don't blame him. She is pretty hot!

2006-11-16T08:05:00.000-08:00

Does canned food ever really go bad?

I've had a recipe sitting on my desk for a while now, tempting me with its delicious potential.

So yesterday, I finally made it. Don't be fooled. It's not the kind of recipe you're thinking of. I definitely don't cook. No...this recipe only included three ingredients, one of which is sugar. Which means it meets my basic requirements. I won't make anything that has more than five ingredients. And if it includes sugar, all the better. Plus, no cooking.

MMMMMMMMMMMMM.

So, what was it, you ask? A delicious pumpkin dip. Here are the basic ingredients. Canned pumpkin pie filling. Powdered sugar. And cream cheese. Also, you add cinnamon and ginger, but I don't count those as real ingredients.

Yesterday, becoming inspired, I headed to my pantry and - to my delight - found a can of pumpkin pie filling in the waaaaaaaay back of the cupboard. Knowing that I also had powdered sugar and cream cheese, I was set!

I opened the can of pumpkin and noticed that the top had seen better days. It looked a little dry and tasted horrible. I checked the can and noticed a little message that said, "Best if used by April 2005".

Interesting.

So here's where I reached my current dilemma. Isn't the whole purpose of canning food so that it can last forever? It should be fine, right? I mean, it's not like it had an expiration date. Just a "best by" date. And I don't need best right now...I'd settle for good. Plus, of course the pumpkin tastes bad..it's not sweetened yet. I'm sure it'll be just fine with a little sugar...

So I did what any smart person would do. I scooped the top off that looked kinda shady and used the rest to make my dip. Which was scrumdelioucious!

And spent the entire rest of the day wondering if the funny feeling in my throat was because I had contracted tetanus from the can.

Pumpkin dip, anyone?

2006-11-12T01:40:00.000-08:00

Confused Childhood Trauma

There's no doubt in my mind that I am my mother's daughter. For right or wrong, I am a product of my raisin'. Craziness included.

For those of you who have ever looked at me in wonder and shook your head, I offer this as a possible explanation.

While surfing the internet for Christmas presents (because no stores are open at 2am) I came across something familiar to me. It's called a Mezuzah. Interestingly enough, I had no idea this particular item was called a Mezuzah or what its actual meaning is. All I know is that for my entire life, my mom had one of these attached to the door frame outside of our front door. After seeing this familiar item for sale in an online store, I decided to google the meaning. See for yourself...

Mezuzah (IPA: [məˈzʊzə]) (Heb. מזוזה, literally "doorpost"; pl. mezuzot) refers to one of the 613 commandments in Judaism, which requires that a small parchment (klaf) inscribed with two sections from the Torah's Book of Deuteronomy (6:4-9 and 11:13-21) be affixed to each doorpost and gate in a Jewish home, synagogue, and business.

The small case or box that typically covers the parchment. (The parchment can be affixed directly to the door, though usually a case is used in order to protect it. It is important to be aware, though, that a case without a valid mezuzah scroll inside cannot be used to fulfill this mitzvah.) The case generally features the Hebrew letter shin (ש) inscribed on its upper exterior. Artistic mezuzah cases are often given as gifts for weddings and other special occasions.

A mezuzah case or box
Halakha (Jewish law) prescribes in detail the affixing of mezuzot on doorposts. Since almost every Jewish home has a mezuzah on its front doorpost, it has historically been a way of recognizing a Jewish home.

Right. So you can imagine my shock after reading this, seeing as how our family is not - nor have we ever been, to my knowledge - Jewish. Though it's long been my secret desire to be a part of a Jewish family. Eight days of gifts?? Rock on! The dredle game?? Yes please! The best chicken noodle soup ever? Yum yum! But alas...Jewish, we are not.

Recently, someone told me that I am a study in contradictions. I blame my mother. And clearly, after reading this, you should too. But it's good to know that I spent the better part of my life fulfilling this mitzvah!

2006-11-11T22:19:00.000-08:00

I think it's clear by now to anyone who knows me that I am an overcommitter. And a pleaser. I like to make people happy. But it usually comes at a price to me. And so, I'm making some changes. Starting with this blog...

I refuse to make excuses about the length of time that goes between my posts. If you read this, you probably know me or know enough about me by now to know that I have two full time jobs. The one that pays the bills and the one that builds our dreams. Starting a restaurant is an impossibly difficult job and still maintaining a full time job on top of it is insane. So, the blog falls to the very bottom of the list. And that makes me so sad. But, I'll give a little when I can and so, when you check in and find a new update, it'll be a surprise to brighten your day. :)

In case you wonder what other areas of my life are being neglected, ask my poor dogs. Last night, Andy got up in the middle of the night and found my dog, Charlie, laying on the floor. Charlie had apparently gone into our closet and dug my favorite bra out of the dirty clothes basket. He bent down to retrive the undergarment from Charlie but it was stuck.

Upon further investigation, Andy found the bra completely wrapped around Charlie's head and legs. He immediately checked to make sure Charlie hadn't suffered any dain bramage, and then removed the potential choking hazard from around our sweet pup's head.

Nice. This is why I shouldn't be in charge of animals or small children.

What do you mean you're supposed to lock up harmful chemicals??? Uh...gotta go.

2006-10-26T13:21:00.000-07:00

My husband, being the least homophobic and generally most open-minded person I know, had a rather embarrassing thing happen to him the other day.

We've been off work for the last several days trying to get things done for the restaurant. We needed to get a copy of a tax return from our business partner, who was currently traveling in Asia. Our (business) partner called the accountant and authorized us to pick up a copy. So off we went to our accountant's office.

I was waiting in the car as Andy ran in to pick up the document. When he arrived, the lady at the front desk smiled at him and said, "So you're going to Asia, huh?"

He looked right back at her, smiled and said, "Oh no, my partner is."

Realizing from her blank - and moderately shocked look - that she interpreted his response in the truest sense of the word, he stood there, panicked. But then, too much time passed and he couldn't take it back or explain without looking completely like a true closet gay. So, she handed him his paper and he gave her the most manly "thanks!" he could muster.

Now you know...the next time I walk into that office, she's gonna be looking at me and thinking, "Oh honey! If you only knew!!"

2006-10-09T21:43:00.000-07:00

Please pray for Andy's sanity...

After writing the last blog about why I love my husband, I walked out into the kitchen to find him cleaning up. I noticed that the kitchen had an odd sort of clean smell.

That's when I looked at the counter and noticed my husband cleaning up with a bottle of our beloved pet stain carpet cleaner.

"Honey! What are you doing???"

Looking at the bottle, he hung his head in shame. "I have no idea."

Now I'm starting to wonder what he may have cleaned my bathtub with...

2006-10-09T17:24:00.000-07:00

Why I married my husband...

After nearly 12 years together, I realize that there are still many things that make my heart skip a beat when it comes to my dearly beloved. The most recent, a story I thought you might enjoy...

A few weeks ago, I discovered ANOTHER scorpion in my house. And, since my bags are already packed from the last experience with these creepy crawlies, my "for sale" sign was practically in the yard as soon as I saw it. But, one more frantic call to my pest control, and an assurance that all would be fine, I trusted that I would have no more visitors from the scorpions.

And just to be extra safe, my pest control guy put some sticky paper things under the sides of my garage door to catch anything sneaking in. I found such comfort in those sticky papers, day after day, as I walked to and from my car. Crickets, spiders and flies all found their certain demise there. And I loved it.

Until one day...when something very bad happened.

I got out of my car, late at night. And walked past my new death trap, looking down to see what new delight awaited me. When I saw the very thing that makes me quiver even to this moment.

A mouse.

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

So, in the middle of the night, in the middle of my drive way, I am screaming bloody murder. Because there is a MOUSE on the sticky paper in my GARAGE!!!! How did it even get in there??????

So out comes my husband to investigate. And that's when I really start to panic. Because he has a strange look on his face as he's looking at the mouse.

"Is it...[gulp] ALIVE?" I ask him. To which he can only nod in response. Now I'm completely freaked out, because as much as I don't want a mouse in my house, I certainly don't want to contribute to the death of an innocent creature. And I'm suddenly stricken with fear about how to save the life of this little mouse, because I remember a horrific story I read in Laurie Notaro's book about a similar situation where she trapped a mouse in her house. And, once caught, she wanted the mouse freed. So, her husband tried to pull it off the paper. Only...the paper was really sticky and only half the mouse came off.

So, now I'm hysterical for a completely different reason. And I immediately call my pest control company (late at night) and they (unbelievably) answered the phone. Really, if you're looking for pest control, please call Jitterbug. Especially since they'll probably be dropping me as a client soon for all the panic calls I make, and they'll need to backfill my monthly slot! Anyway, here's the gist of the conversation..

Me: "Oh hi Lynn...I'm so sorry to call so late, but I have a major emergency. The sticky thing that Bob put down in my garage to catch bugs?? Yeah, it caught a mouse."

Lynn: "Ok. That's fine. It can do that."

Me: "Yeah, but what do I do now?"

Lynn: "Just leave it to die."

Me: "[gasp] I can't possibly do that. I can't kill another creature...I'm a vegetarian for pete's sake!! (OK..two major notes...scorpions are exempt from my 'can't kill another creature' and also, not a complete vegetarian because I love Sushi and Chic-fil-a sandwiches. But close enough.)

Lynn: "OK...then pour vegetable oil over the mouse and that will break the bond with the glue."

So...off my sweet little hubby goes with a broom, a flashlight, a mouse stuck to a sticky paper, and a bottle of vegetable oil. And me, safely tucked away inside, peeking through the window until I see a cute little mouse running off into the night.

Or, all oiled up and ready for a coyote to eat, as my husband pointed out.

2006-10-03T23:27:00.000-07:00

I'm back

And I have sooooo much to say.

First, let me apologize for my absence. It's been a crazy couple of weeks with trying to manage my full time job with my full time business venture, with my full time mariage, with my full time...ok, you get the picture, right?

Anyway - the good news for you is that so many funny and crazy things have happened to me over the last few weeks that I should be able to keep you entertained for days at least. So, welcome back! :)

Here are the things you have to look forward to:

- the dramatic kung fu update
- my experiences with the cat who wants to chop me into a million pieces with his claws
- my new adventures as a restauranteur
- freakin' great andy stories
- me, standing topless, in a dr's office...this one's really good. and humiliating!
- my new adventures with my incredibly deteriorating body

But I must start with one that I know will bring a smile to your face. So here goes.

Don't drink alcohol.

No really, don't drink alcohol.

Bad things happen when you drink alcohol. Sure, everyone knows the standard problems with drinking. Irresponsible behavior. Dangers in driving. People appearing more attractive than they are in real (sober) life. Lack of impulse control. Bad hangovers.

These are known variables when dealing with alcohol. But I'm here to tell you about one much, much more serious problem associated with drinking.

Karaoke.

First, let me assure you - in case you had any doubt...I am not a good singer. I avoided singing in our traveling choir at church growing up, even though they went on fabulous trips. You mean we can go to Hawaii, but I have to sing? No thanks. Planes AND singing?? Why not just stick a dagger in my heart and get it over with!!

It's not for lack of effort. I love to sing. In my car. In my shower. In the back row of my church. Just not in public. And being married to the man I am, has only perpetuated my anxiety over how bad my singing is. I mean really...how would you feel if, everytime you are in the car together and start singing, your mate turned up the volume so he could "hear the real singer."?? After 12 years of this, I am slightly scarred.

So, armed with this knowledge, you could safely place a bet that I would never, never, not ever, sing in public.

But alcohol is a funny thing. And Saturday night, it turned me into a bar room karaoke singer. Oh yeeeees.

I'm pretty sure that if Gloria Gaynor knew how bad my rendition of "I will survive" would turn out to be, she would never have sang the song. Not even once.

But fueled by vodka and the cheers of my adoring fans, that was just the first song in my "set". I'd like to point out, it's not really my fault. I was encouraged by one of my kung fu buddies. Who went first. And I thought, 'surely I'm better than that'. Plus, I promised that if he did, I would. And honestly...I found something so comforting about being "onstage" in front of everyone, with that microphone in my hand. That surprises you somehow?

Next, we did a little duet of "fishing in the dark", which was so bad, that halfway through, one of our other buddies (who CAN actually sing) had to take over the song for us.

Not to be outdone by some of the other karaoke regulars, we decided to try one more duet. A little ditty by Meatloaf called "Paradise by the Dashboard Light". Never heard of it? No, me either. Let me tell you a few things about this song. A) It's NINE minutes long. B) There are boy and girl parts. Helpful when singing a duet. Not helpful when you've never heard the song before and suddenly have to sing the girl part. C) There are about 47 tempo changes in the song.

Nine minutes is a loooong time. Long enough to sober up, find yourself with a microphone in your hands, a bar full of people staring at you, words moving really fast on a giant screen that you're supposed to be singing and the sudden realization that you have no idea what you're doing.

So consider this a public service announcement. Alcohol can lead to very, very bad things!

2006-09-14T10:49:00.000-07:00

A new baby to love...

And because he couldn't be outdone by sweet baby Sienna Grace, little Peyton Christopher has joined our circle of babies to love. Isn't this the cutest thing since baby pigs wrapped in tiger skins?

2006-09-12T11:40:00.000-07:00

This story just made my heart happy...I couldn't help but share...happy tuesday!!

In a California zoo, a mother tiger gave birth to a rare set of triplet tiger cubs. Unfortunately, due to pregnancy complications, the cubs were born prematurely and died shortly after birth. Mother tiger after recovering from the delivery, suddenly started to decline in health, although physically fine. The vets felt that the loss of her litter had caused her to fall into a depression. The doctors decided that if she could surrogate another mother's cubs, perhaps she would improve. After checking with many other zoos, the depressing news was that there were no tiger cubs of the right age to introduce to the tiger mother. The vets decided to try something that had never been tried in a zoo environment. Sometimes a mother of one species will take on the care of a different species. The only "orphans" that could be found quickly, were a litter of wiener pigs. The zoo keepers and vets wrapped the piglets in tiger skin and placed the babies around the mother tiger. The results . . .

2006-09-10T22:20:00.000-07:00

I'm lookin' for a dealer.

No, not drugs.

Contacts.

That's right. Those cheesy little flimsy plastic filmy discs one wears for vision correctedness. Yeah, I need to score some of those. In a baaaaad way.

I've become tired of visiting my optometrist year after year, only to discover that my prescription has not changed. But in between the time that I enter the office and hear those words, I am subjected to the following:

A $100 retinal scan that helps determine early signs of a brain tumor. Yes, I get this everytime. Even though I ask if I really need it since I just had the damn thing 11 months ago. And the response is always the same..."only if you want to find out if you have a brain tumor." Do you know what that does to a hypochondriac? That's like offering free drugs to a crack whore. OF COURSE I want to know if I have a brain tumor!!!
Swift and brutal humiliation by the stupid little assistant getting paid $10/hour to do the glaucoma test. Yes, I realize it's only a puff of air. Yes, I know that you're not going to touch my eye. But I can't help the fact that when that little blue light comes my way, my head jerks backward. We can keep trying it as many times as you like, but if you'd check my chart, then you would know that I've never successfully been able to complete one of these tests. I get the yellow eye drops instead. Duh!
Being told by aforementioned assistant that I'm the only person who she's ever seen that can't complete the test. You can humiliate me all you want, but I'm getting the eye drops. I know they didn't invent those for me, so I can't possibly be the only person who's ever wigged out at this test!
"Better one, or better two?" I have no freaking idea. Half the time they look exactly the same. I basically approach the eye exam the same way I would a multiple choice pop quiz...with random and frequently changing answers.
OK...this isn't a bad one. But I do have to say that everytime I take the peripheral vision light clicker test, I get 100%. I don't mean to brag, but that's skill. And the only thing I look forward to at the eye doctor.

Anyway...I've decided this is a little scam this doctor has - holding my prescription hostage until I come in for my eye exam. And since my vision never changes, I don't think I should have to go for an exam every year. So, I decided to outsmart the system.

I went online...

Ingenuity being my middle name, I grabbed an empty contact lens box and snagged the prescription of the side. Then proceeded to order a year's supply of lenses. TAKE THAT!!

But then, tonight, I received a phone call from the online store. Seems they have to have a valid prescription in order to send me my contacts. So they called the optometrist. Who said I didn't have a valid prescription. And so, they were very sorry, but couldn't fill my order.

Because it's "against the law". Honest to God, that's the answer that I was given. It's against the law to fill a contact lens order without a valid prescription.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME???

I could talk for days about the reasons why this is completely absurd. In the city I live in, the police officers are not allowed to pursue someone in a "police chase" unless they've completed a felony. So, if you happen to be driving in my city, see the flashing lights and don't feel like getting a ticket...don't pull over. They can't chase you.

But God forbid you try and order some contacts without a valid prescription. THAT'S against the law.

2006-09-02T20:28:00.000-07:00

Baby Sienna Grace

Remember when I went to Santa Barbara in August to visit a friend? Well, her baby was born last Thursday...and I just couldn't resist showing a picture of how cute she is!! I can't wait to meet her in person!!

2006-08-31T23:24:00.000-07:00

It does not escape my attention that I am, as told in previous posts, possibly mildly retarded. Highly functioning at times. But developmentally challenged, nonetheless.

For example, while walking down my stairs the other day - the same stairs I've gone up and down at least twice a day for the last year and a half - I fell down them. One minute I was looking over the railing, talking to my dog. The next minute, I was lying in a heap at the bottom.

I really believe that things like this only happen to me. Until sometimes, on a really good day, they happen to someone else. And that makes my heart happy.

Like the other day when my husband locked himself out of the house that we are housesitting at. He went out the door to get something out of his car, and when he returned, found the house door locked. This is a phenomena I can't quite grasp, because I'm pretty sure I've never locked myself out of anything. But, on a regular basis, I will hear Andy banging from the other side of the garage door as he's locked himself out of our house. In fact, he one time locked us both out of a running car. I'd ask how that happens, but she who falls down stairs in glass houses shouldn't throw rocks.

Anyway, back to the current story. So, he locks himself out of the house wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. And I do mean, nothing else but the shorts. So, he starts to formulate a plan...

Check all the doors and windows. Locked.
Go to the neighbor's for a key. Maybe, but not yet.
Call super intelligent, clear thinking, level headed wife. Does not even enter his mind.

No, instead, my brilliant husband decides to go through the doggie door. A doggie door built for a sweet dog who weighs all of an ice cube and a cloud put together. Seriously, I think the door is about 6 inches wide by 12 inches high.

Great idea! So, he starts by poking his head through the door. Getting slightly claustrophobic and worried he might get stuck, he decides to go feet first instead. Has this man never known someone to have a baby?? The head and shoulders are the biggest part...if they don't fit, nothing else will!!

Regardless, he turns around and starts inching his way through the door. By some freak act of nature, he manages to contort his body enough to make it through the door. Without ripping it from the wall.

So, as he's explaining this to me, moments later, I ask this simple question...

"Did you have a cell phone with you?"

"No."

"So, what were you planning on doing if you got stuck?"

"Just wait until someone found my body."

Nice....and I'm the moron because I fell down the stairs???

The cheese stands alone.

2006-08-23T11:37:00.000-07:00

Can I tell you a cool story?

This is the kind of mom I hope I can be one day.

A friend of mine has a little boy, who's three years old. And this little boy decided that he wants to be a shark. And so, supportive mom that she is, my friend took her little boy to get a shark fin. Although it's in his hair, and looks earily similar to a mohawk.

Nonetheless, a shark fin it is.

So, when this little boy with the way cool mom walked into his preschool class the next day, elated about showing all his friends that he was - indeed - a shark, you can imagine the shock and surprise when everyone froze and stared at his hair. I mean fin.

And then the teacher had the boldness to ask, "Why would you make your son a punk??"

To which my friend calmly replied..."He's not. He's a shark."

I mean, how many people get a chance in their life to be a shark? We should all be so lucky to have a mom like that, who encourages us to follow our dreams...whatever they are. Including becoming a shark.

And for those of you skeptics out there, let me just point out two little bitty points:

1. He's three, not thirty-three
2. It's hair...it grows back

I hope this story inspires you like it did me...live outside the box. Take chances. Shake up people's perceptions...and if you must, grow a fin.

2006-08-22T11:24:00.000-07:00

I believe in Karma

I really do. You can call it anything you like. Fate. Chance. Destiny. Coincidence. Serendipity.

Pick any adjective you like. But the moral is still the same. I believe you reap what you sow. And that's why I try to put a lot of good out in the world. And why I've hesitated in putting this post out there for a while. Because it's entirely possible it'll come back and bite me.

But I do have a little bit of a wicked streak. I can't help it. I'm human. And so...I give you this post. Knowing full well that in this scary cyber world we live in, the person involved in this story may very well read this post (gulp).

Last week I wrote a little story about someone who stole something from me. And in case you missed it, the situation both really annoyed and entertained me. And after complaining about the situation to everyone I know, I ran into (literally) the individual. But, because I hate conflict soooo much, let me show you how I handled the situation.

It was Wednesday, the day of my adorable, amazing, wonderful nephew's birthday. He turned 13!! And I was short one birthday card...and running late. Shocking, right?

I ran into the neighborhood grocery store to pick up a card. I busted around the corner into the card aisle and came face to face with my nemesis. Or face to back of head. Frozen, I didn't know what to do. I needed a card. But I really didn't to push my luck and face a potential confrontation with this chic. So I posted myself about three inches away from the cards and tried to make myself as thin and invisible as possible.

I quickly started scanning through the cards, trying to find a card - any card - that would work. Unfortunately, all the cards within my reach were about new babies, sympathy, anniversaries and weddings. CRAP. The birthday cards are down further and I need to move down the aisle...uh oh...

She's walking my way. Freeze. Don't move. Don't breathe. Just keep looking at cards.

Let me pause here at say...I hate passive/aggressive people.

So, all of a sudden, a presence appears at my side. I can feel her breathing, but I refuse to acknowledge the presence. Just keep looking at cards...

Walking behind me, she stands on my other side, inches away. Staring at me. Why am I never the victim of freak circumstances when I need them?? Like lightening strikes or sinking holes?

And then came the voice that brings shivers across my spine. "Hello, Andrea". Only, in my head, it sounds Seinfeld's "Helloooo Newman."

I turn, trying to feign my shock and surprise...which escapes me at that exact moment, and so I just stare instead.

"Hello."

The next 5 minutes bring ridiculous small talk, while I continue to stare straight ahead, looking for a birthday card in the land of frou-frou love cards. Anything to keep me occupied. When she finally leaves, I breathe a sigh of relief. Until she returns, moments later, with her husband in tow. Who she promptly introduces me to.

Who I stare at for a good 30 seconds before I can speak...because I can't think of anything nice to say. And to be honest, I'm sure there have been some pretty good gossipy conversations about me had in their house, so I'm wondering what he's thinking as he sits there and stares at me. Finally, I speak and they leave. And I'm finally alone to select the perfect card and leave.

Off to the checkout line I go, thrilled that at least I'll be able to go through the express line. Except, there is no express line. Just 15 regular lines with a million people and four carts of groceries each. And then a line with only one other person in it. Ahead of me. Standing alone.

Guess who??

Yup...another agonizing, awkward conversation awaits me. I almost, almost, got into one of the other lines.

What do you think I put out in the world to deserve this crazy little interaction??

2006-08-15T22:36:00.000-07:00

Do you know what my biggest fear in life is?

It's not flying...that's number two.

No, I fear my Kung Fu instructor more than anything. And not just because she could kill me if she wanted to, but because sometimes I really feel like she might want to. And that's terrifying.

So you can imagine my dilemma tonight when I made the decision to not attend Kung Fu because I had consumed one glass of wine several hours before hand. It seemed wrong to go, plus I knew she would sniff it out of me.

And quite frankly, I was fearful I might have a heart attack if she put us through one of her famously hard workouts.

So I told a "friend" I wouldn't be there. Sent her a text message. And maybe, just maybe, rubbed in the fact that I was currently at home, in my jammies, eating an ice cream bar.

Approximately 45 seconds later, my phone rang. Guess who??

Yup...my Kung Fu instructor. Somehow found out I was at home, in my jammies, eating an ice cream bar. Wanted to find out why I was going off track. So, I naturally confessed to her that I'd been drinking. Right...because I have no internal edit.

Yeah...my "friend" sold me out. Although, I feel it's entirely possibly that my instructor, Kung Fu jedi that she is, would have naturally channeled the earth's energy and discovered on her own what I was up to.

But I do find it completely entertaining that she asked me if I would be attending my private lesson the next day, or if I would be too hung over!! Only, I think she might have been serious??

I am, currently, packing my bags to flee the country. Because I know that I will pay tomorrow if I don't!

no more drinking during the week...no more drinking during the week...no more drinking during the week

2006-08-14T22:05:00.000-07:00

Why I should have been an only child that doesn't socialize with others

I've recently discovered something many of you may have already known. I don't like to share. OK..there are exceptions, but on a whole...I don't like to share.

Case in point. After receiving a iPod for my birthday, I've joined the liberated Mac worshipers. I love my iPod. I need my iPod. I live for my iPod. But do you know what I DON'T adore about my iPod? Waking up at 2am to find the earbuds of my precious little iPod stuck in the ear canals of my husband. Just the sight of it makes me want to rip those buds out of his ears and wrap my sweet little iPod up in my arms and go back to sleep. I know I'm not listening to it, because I'm sleeping. But it doesn't mean I want anyone else listening to it!

I also hate sharing my drinks. You're welcome to some of my food. But don't put your dirty, nasty germs into liquid that I'm going to consume because that makes me grumpy. Especially when I ordered a yummy chocolate milkshake with extra whipped cream on top. It's mine. Back off. And if you want some, order your own. Or give me advanced notice so I can get you an extra glass. This is a major source of contention in the hill house, because frequently, we find ourselves driving down the road where one of us (me) has come prepared with a bottle of water, while the other (him) is suddenly thirsty. And inevitably he asks if I have any water. Which he knows I do. And I typically lie. Basically, I need to know that he's choking or near dehydration before I can realease any of my precious water. I just don't understand why you can't bring your own???

But today, I found something else that I don't like to share...my brain power. Yes, I had someone rip off a cheesy communication that I pulled together for our organization to use. And then, I received a copy of it. Only, it had different words in it.

Sort of.

Here's a tip...if you plan on stealing something from someone, at least have the decency to change the introduction to the communication that the other person wrote. Especially when it's full of things like exclamation points and shiny, happy words that you aren't known for. Or, at the very least, change the name of the communication. It'll take less time for the person to realize you are stealing from them!

And, whatever you do...do not steal said communication from your customer, update it with some additional information, send it back to your customer as "yours" and then tell your customer that you created a customized communication tool for them. When you didn't.

Lies, lies, ugly lies.

Here's the thing...if you had just mentioned that you loved it and wanted to steal shamelessly, I would have adored it. I would have helped you. I would have made yours better than mine. Heck, I stole the format from someone else! But I told them...

And you didn't, did you?

Oh no, you didn't. I don't like to share my brain power. Especially when it's without my knowledge.

I'm taking my toys and leaving the sandbox. I'm done playing nice and trying to help you be successful. And if I catch you with my iPod, you'd better start running!

2006-08-13T03:50:00.000-07:00

I'm Moving...

I used to love my house. And the neighborhood I live in. It's so beautiful and peaceful... Completely secluded and miles away from any commercial anything. Surrounded by mountains. Amazing sunrises and sunsets. Who could ask for more?

Well, there's one small issue. I live in the desert. Or what used to be the desert anyway. Which I thought was charming when we first moved in. Owls hooting right behind our house at night. Coyotes running through the streets. Bunnies everywhere and more wild life than you can imagine.

Only now, they're starting to take over my life. And I'm losing it.

It started a few months ago with the velosorapter-gila monster that found it's way into my dining room. Some people might call it a lizard, but anything that stands two inches off the ground in its resting position is no lizard. My dog took the liberty of maiming it pretty good while I stood on top of the coffee table in my living room until Andy got home to do his manly duty of disposing with the prehistoric creature.

I thought I could move past the "lizard" episode. That was until I found the mouse in the pool. Oh. my. Gosh. I thought I was going to have a stroke on the spot. First of all, how do I even have mice in the vicinity of my house, let alone IN MY POOL?!?!?

"Dig it up!" I told Andy.

"Dig what up?" he asked.

"The pool. Dig up the pool and build me a new one. You'll do it if you know what's good for you."

He convinced me that it would be ok. And after a gallon of muriatic acid, a couple packages of shock and more chlorine then you can even imagine, I did finally get back into the pool. Half of it anyway.

I was content in my knowledge that this was a one time thing. A little field mouse somehow made it into our yard and slipped into the abyss that is our pool. It'll never happen again.

Until it did...two weeks ago. While standing on the top step of my pool, I looked over to my fabulous little custom designed swim shelf thingamabob, and saw it. The all too familiar rigamortised body. The mouth frozen open and tiny little teeth sticking out. I'll never get that image out of my mind. It gives me the creeps just to write it. Another mouse found its demise in my pool.

You can probably guess I wasn't about to get back in that pool. Then I went away to California and when I returned, this was waiting for me in the pool.

I'm not sure if the picture does the necessary justice. This is the body of a roughly 12" long "lizard". Dead. In my pool. Of which, I will never be swimming in again.

I am now the proud owner of the largest, most expensive backyard fountain. Cuz that's all it is now. Something pretty to look at.

Still, I can over look almost all of these things. That was, until tonight.

First, let me say this. I have lived in Arizona my ENTIRE life. I have never seen a scorpion in my house. In any house I've ever lived in. When people visiting here ask about scorpions, hearing their legendary tales of death and destruction, I scoff at them. "I've NEVER seen a scorpion, except at the zoo. Shaking out your shoes?? Completely unnecessary. Those are old wivestales!"

I take back everything I ever said. Because tonight, as I was walking barefoot across my carpet, I noticed the carpet moving. Hmmm...having recently consumed several glasses off wine, I thought that must have been one of the side effects. Looking closer, I discovered that my carpet was not moving. The tiny little beige colored scorpion with the giant pinchers and huge stinging tail was. And it was about three feet away from my dog, slumbering unaware on the floor.

Excuse my French, but...SHIT!!! What the hell am I going to do NOW????

OK, think. think. Ah, crap. That thing's moving at warp speed. I must kill it...but how? On went my shoes (flip flops) and my foot posed precariously above the poisonous pest.

WAIT!!! What if I miss? It could get me. Could its stinger cut through my foam flip flop?? Probably...new plan. Something large and heavy. A cup! Yes!! A cup will work. So, after about four tries, I finally managed to kill the sucker. And then separated the body from the tail, for good measure. After all, maybe it was playing dead. We had a black widow that did that once, and I didn't want that think resurrecting back to life with more anger than it had before.

I do have to pause for a moment and say, as someone who really can't handle the killing of innocent animals (exhibit a: a freezer full of nothing but soy "chick" nuggets, patties and corn dogs) I do have s fair amount of guilt about this slaying. But, if I know anything about scorpions, I know that the smaller they are, the more deadly. And my pups lives are more important than my principles.

Afterwards, I placed a frantic call to my local police department, aka, my husband and tried to relay the "emergency situation" we had on our hands. To which he kept replying, "ma'am...you need to calm down. Calm down ma'am. Just put something heavy on top of it, and I'll take care of it when I get home. "

Done. Only problem is, it is now 4:30 in the morning, and I still haven't been to sleep. Because I know there are more of them out there. And I don't dare call my pest control company before 8am.

How early do you think I could call my real estate agent????

2006-08-08T17:34:00.000-07:00

Leaving, on a jet plane...don't know if I'll be back again...

OK, truth be told. I've already left and I'm back. And from the amount of traffic I've had on this blog, I can tell you've missed me. I'm so sorry I haven't been able to sneak in some time to get an update posted, but I've truly been enjoying some very long overdue (and well deserved??) rest and relaxation.

In beautiful Santa Barbara, California.

You hate me, don't you? It's not my fault. I had to go, to prove that I am a loyal friend, willing to conquer my biggest fear in order to spend some quality bonding time with a friend who's about to become a mommy for the first time. How cool is that? The good news is, I have DAYS worth of pent up commentary to share with you. So, I promise to keep you entertained for a while. Here's the first of many...

If you've had more than three conversations with me, you know that my biggest, scariest fear in life is flying. I am quite possibly the worst flyer ever. I know what you're thinking. Yeah, you hate to fly too. It's not your favorite thing. Blah, blah, blah. But until you've either:

a) found yourself in the fetal position in your seat on the plane, facing backwards and sobbing so loud into the back of the seat that people behind you are climbing over the seat to find out how to help the poor, hysterical, slightly retarded girl; or,

b) grabbed the arms of the people next to you in a moment of panic and yelled "we're going down"

Ok, one more...

c) or found yourself uttering these words to the perfect stranger sitting next to you..."hi, we've never met, but I'm having a panic attack right now and I need you to talk to me for the next 45 minutes and keep me calm, or we're all going to have some issues"

then you have no idea the depth that this fear resonates within me. So, you can imagine that I do everything I can to avoid flying, until it becomes apparent that I have no other choice. And it's not like I need more exposure or anything. I've been to Ney York. Florida. Georgia. Ohio. Maryland. North Carolina. Name a state and I've probably flown to it or near it. I've been to Russia, for pete's sake! You get the point, right? It's not like practice makes perfect on this one. I am not a flyer. I'm a sailor. Put me on a boat and I'm perfectly happy. Hey, I'll take a car ride ANYWHERE. Just don't put me on a plane.

So, because of this fear, there are certain rituals I must go through to prepare myself. I go late to the airport. Like really late. Like running to my gate late. That way, there's no chance to chicken out. I have to inspect the outside of the plane as I board. I MUST, emphasize MUST, visually inspect both the pilot and cockpit. Which usually freaks the flight attendants out. And if I have my doubts, I insist on meeting these pilots so I can smell their breath (for liquor) and determine if they are fit to fly an aircraft. I'm surprised the FAA is yet to offer me a job! I must always travel with my Bible and recite the 23rd Psalm upon take off. And no one prays better than I do when I'm on a plane. You have no idea the deals I've cut with God inside of airplanes. Let's just say, they've made me the person I am today.

Bottom line, if given the opportunity to run a marathon or fly on a plane, I would pick the marathon. And you KNOW I'm not a runner.

Imagine my delight on Saturday morning when the following words were spoken to me...

"Go out this door and walk straight. Your airplane is the first one on the left."

Huh?? We must have a failure to communicate. I'm riding a plane, not renting a car! But out the door I went and found myself on the TARMAC of all places. There were litterally 5 of the smallest planes you've ever seen, lined up like a used car lot. I climbed up the little stairs that also doubled as our DOOR! And, found myself on the smallest plane on the planet fit for commercial transportation.

No one checked my ticket. I could have boarded the fourth plane on the left and gone to Wichita instead. And as I sat in my seat and hyperventilated, I typed the following message to my husband via my cell phone.

"If my plane goes down, I want you to know that God has a sense of humor. He's boarded me on Barbie's private jet."

In the end, it turned out to be one of the best flights I've ever had. And the reason I've shared all of this with you is in hopes that it will encourage you to do something that really, really scares you. Because had I not boarded that plane, I would have missed out on the last few days of relaxing, walking on the beach in 70 degree weather - wearing a sweatshirt, eating the best food and just having an amazing time. So take a risk...you might find the payoff is really worth it! :)

2006-08-01T23:23:00.000-07:00

Reasons why I'm a freak...

I may have unfairly made an example of my husband's obsessive compulsive disorder, when I so clearly suffer from the same affliction.

Tonight, after my Kung Fu class, my instructor mentioned to me that I had - perhaps - not paid my tuition for that month. Hmmm...interesting. Maybe. Except that I clearly remember paying it. Plus, I would never NOT pay it. I wouldn't be able to sleep at night. It would drive me crazy. So, I immediately went home and logged into my bank account to see if I had paid for the class.

Indeed I had. There was the canceled check staring right back at me. So I did what any rational person would do. I printed a copy and drove right back to the studio. At 9:15 at night. To prove that I was - in fact - not a dead beat Kung Fu student. I paid my tuition, by golly.

Whew. I'm glad that's settled. Because I couldn't have relaxed tonight unless I knew that she knew that I had paid for my class.

OK...here's where it gets weird. I'm going to be back at that studio in roughly 14 hours and could have handled the situation then. And still come across as a relatively normal human being.

Instead, I look like a mildly retarded Rainman.

Why is it that the ability to internally rationlize and edit my thoughts escapes me at the very moment I need it???

2006-07-27T22:15:00.000-07:00

From time to time I do let my planet revolve around someone besides myself. And so, in honor of Friday - and in the spirit of proving to my husband that I do actually listen to the mind numbing stories about his job - I offer you my top 10 list of most rediculous calls to the police department. Enjoy!!

# 10.
"I just saw the baseline murderer. He was delivering pepsi at the gas station down the street from me. "

#9
"9-1-1!! Please help me...my child left home several hours ago and now he's missing!!"

"Ma'am - how old is your child?"

"17"

"Could you please call back on the non-emergency number?"

#8
"My son's car had a rock thrown through the windshield. I want someone out here right NOW to take a report. "

"Sir...we don't send officers out for that type of report. You can file a report online."

"What are my taxpayer dollars going towards, then?"

"We're trying to keep real criminals off the street."

#7
"My children saw a man dressed in black wearing a white mask hiding in the shed in our backyard."

"Did you see anything, ma'am?"

"No."

"How old are your children?"

"3 and 5."

"I see...any chance they could be 'imagining' the man in the shed?"

"I don't know. But you need to send someone out here to find out!"

#6
This one seems to be pretty popular, so I offer just this one piece of advice. If you have a warrant out for your arrest, DO NOT call the police and have them show up at your house for something completely unrelated. They will run your information, find the warrant and take you to jail. Which is bad. Unless you like being in jail.

#5
Another (sadly) popular one...before you call the police to report your car "stolen" because your boyfriend/girlfriend/lover/etc. drove off in it when you were fighting, consider whether you'd actually like to see this person again. Because the police will pull them out of your car at gun point. I am not even kidding...

#4
"I've called six times in the last two hours to have someone come out to my house to take a report on this property damage. What could possibly be going on in this city on a Tuesday night that you can't send someone to my house right now??"

"We have an armed gunman walking through the city with a shotgun, firing his gun randomly. We thought we should probably catch him before we do anything else."

"oh. good idea."

#3
(making arrangements for an officer to meet up with a citizen)
"Ok ma'am. Can I get your physical description?"

"Oh yes. I'm very pretty. Young. I'm wearing tight clothes, and..."

"Ma'am! Black, white, hispanic?? Physical description please!"

#2
Something new I've learned...it's called fairy dusting. Basically, the police will come out and "fairy dust" for finger prints when there's no chance that they're going to get anything tangible but they need to do something to shut these people up who keep calling 27 times a day.

And after you've been fairy dusted, santa claus comes by with a present for you too!

#1
By far, my favorite call to the police ever. Basically, this woman calls at 2am because her husband went out for a bike ride 3 hours ago and still isn't back. He has a cell phone, but of course - he isn't answering it! Oh, and it's a monsoon, so it's been completely windy and raining the whole time he's been gone. And right as the police are pulling in the neighborhood, this guy shows up back at home. Whew! What a relief!!

Honey...I got news for you. That man wasn't out on no bike ride...

Makes you think twice before calling the police, doesn't it??

2006-07-25T22:51:00.000-07:00

Some people...

I have found in my life that - as a rule - people generally love me or can't stand me. And, at times, this extends to my family members as well. I just have one of those personalities...either we groove or we clash. But there's not a lot of middle ground. And I'm totally fine with that.

Most of the time.

But today, I found out that someone I used to work for (indirectly) - a 'boss of a boss' if you will, doesn't like me. Rather, didn't like the way that I worked. You know, silly little things...like having integrity. Trying to make things better, more efficient. Calling others out for making bad decisions. Basically, failure to be a "yes man". Which we all know is totally not within my capacity as a human being. At first, I was amused. I had always had my suspicions, but now I have confirmation.

Only now...I've had some time to process it...and I have a few things to say.

#1. Your clothes are too tight. Yes, you have an amazing, freakishly perfect body, you amazon, you. But, I shouldn't be able to clearly identify the make and model of your under garments directly through the thin whisps of cloth parading as clothing. p.s...black bras under white shirts?? 1985 called...they want their look back.

#2. 6 inch high stilleto heels are for the clubs...or the streets. Not the office. This, from a self professed high heel lover...yours are outta order.

#3. Did you really spray a gallon of hair spray on your rediculously puffy hair today while I was in the ladies room with you at the same time? ?? Come on! Are you going to a meeting or looking for a date? Plus, don't you know the rules of the ladies room?? You've effectively depleted our limited air supply in that place. Although, total kudos on the outfit you were wearing today. As much as it pains me to admit it...

#4. The hallways in our office are, in fact, not catwalks or runways. There is no need to strut through them. I promise you, your picture is not being taken. And those people who have turned to stare at you?? They're not admiring you...they're freaked out by you. Step lightly and quickly...keep it moving!

#5. You are really great at so many things. But telling the truth is not one of them. Here's a piece of advice from me to you...once in a while, DON'T make up an answer. Admit you don't know and commit to finding out and making it right. You'll totally win friends and influence people. Trust me...I do it all the time. And people love me...but you have to FOLLOW THROUGH!

#6. When you leave for the day, walk to your car like a normal person. It's 147 degrees outside. This is no time to be doing a slow motion sashay to your vehicle. Plus...you're in my way and I'm trying to get outta here...get a move on!

I have to stop now, while I'm ahead...because I really don't like being mean. But trust me, these are the nice things! If I said the really rotten things about her and her awful work ethic, I would shock you. As it is, I'm definitely going to have to think some nice thoughts about her tonight and say a few prayers for being so catty...

All the while knowing that somewhere, out there in cyberspace...someone - maybe her - is writing about what a witch I am.

Karma...it's a real buzz kill.

2006-07-24T10:30:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday to you!!

Today is my friend Jacki's birthday, and since she is the most loyal fan and follower of the blog, she gets her own special post. It doesn't mean I like her the best...I love you all equally. But this one's for Jacki...happy birthday girlfriend!!

Below is a fun friendship poem that I got from a friend who rocks...and I'm passing it on to you Jacki...because YOU rock!! Enjoy...and apologies in advance to everyone else for the slightly offcolor commentary!!

1. When you are sad -- I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard, or bitch, who made you sad.

2. When you are blue -- I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.

3. When you smile -- I will know you finally got laid. (Please let it be this year!!)

4. When you are scared -- I will rag on you about it every chance I get.

5. When you are worried-- I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be ... until you quit whining.

6. When you are confused -- I will use little words.

7. When you are sick -- Stay the hell away from me until you are well again. I don't want whatever you have.

8. When you fall -- I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.

9. This is my oath..... I pledge it to the end. "Why?" you may ask; "because you are my friend".

2006-07-19T21:04:00.000-07:00

I hate to complain...

I really do. Especially about the company that's been making my mortgage payment for the last 10 years. And put me through college. And buys me fun things that I could live without but don't wanna. It's a good company. They've been good to me. And I'll be sad to leave one day.

However...

There are certain people at said company who drive me insane. And the more I work, the more I realize...there are a lot more of these people around everyday. People who I really wonder about. People I worry about. People I'm not sure should be left unsupervised. And, in a fashion typical to this company, these are usually the people running the organizations I'm working with. Which leaves me to wonder how it is we continue to make any money!

There is one organization which leaves me completely bewildered. I could tell you stories about this group but it would only bore you or leave you in incredulous shock, unbelieving that things like this could actually happen. So instead, I will use an analogy to describe a recent event that took place over email. While the scenario has been changed to protect my job (you thought I was going to say the innocent, didn't you?? Well, they're not!!) the similarity to what actually happened is eerily close. For purposes of brevity, I will refer to people in the following way:

My Friend and brilliant leader who started the email = MF
Leader she contacted who lives in la la land = LL
Team belonging to la la land Leader = LL Team

MF: I am going to the bathroom and need some toilet paper.

LL: Great! There should be toilet paper in there where you need it. It's part of our team's expectations to make sure it's there for you.

MF: You're sure it will be there?

LL: Absolutely. You have my word.

MF: OK...because the last time, there was no toilet paper.

LL: It'll be there!

(time passes)

MF: Uh, hello?? I'm in the bathroom and need some toilet paper.

LL: Oh, ok. Are you the only one who needs toilet paper? Because we don't hand it out just for one person.

MF: No, there are 3447 other people who need toilet paper. Plus, you said it would be here.

LL: Wow. That's a lot of people. Team, please make sure MF and all the other 3447 people have toilet paper by next Friday.

LL Team: Will do. Next Friday for sure.

MF: (sometime after next Friday) Uh, hello?? Still need some toilet paper. You said I'd have it by Friday...but I'm still waiting.

LL: Team - what happened to the toilet paper?

LL Team: We didn't realize they needed toilet paper. It's too late now. They'll all have to wait until the next time we're ready to hand out more toilet paper.

LL: Ok

MF: No!! Not OK. You said we would have toilet paper. We need toilet paper. You knew we needed toilet paper. Where's my toilet paper?????

LL: Sorry. What did you need again?

You laugh, but this is my reality. Scary, isn't it?? Do you think this happens at all companies? I wonder if the higher you go up in leadership, the more you're still walking around, looking for toilet paper! May I never have to find out!!

2006-07-18T22:11:00.000-07:00

We mock that which we do not understand...

So, believe it or not, I've paid for another month of Kung Fu. Which means, for the next four weeks at least, I will be continuing in this bizarre form of torture. Which I actually like!! Sometimes. Although, there are nights when I wonder why I pay for the class and willingly come back. But tonight wasn't one of them!! I got a gold star for actually doing something RIGHT for once. And while I completely basked in the adoration of my instructor and fellow classmates I have...

a) no idea how I did what I did that was so great, and
b) couldn't repeat it again if I tried

Oh well. Who cares?? I rock!!

So, I'm totally cheap tonight and don't have anything too terribly funny to share with you. But as I sat down on the couch to read my newest issue of Kung Fu Magazine (ok, the only issue I've ever had and only because they were handed out to us tonight) I came across these wonderful words of wisdom in the back with the horoscopes.

Early to bed and early to rise. Be asleep before midnight because traditional Chinese medicine believes that all your qi and blood are in your gall bladder, liver, lung and large intestines after 11pm. Without good rest, those organs can't rest and after a while you'll get sick. (So that explains a lot, but still leaves me with one question...how do my internal organs know it's 11pm? Do they adjust for daylight savings time, or know when I'm traveling?)
Keep your joints and back warm. It's easy to fall victim to cold winds.
Eat more fruits and vegetables to avoid dry evil, like a dry cough. (Man, I hate it when that dry evil sneaks up on me!!)
Eat less hot and spicy foods. Eat more acidic foods. (Uh, hello?? I live in the DESERT! All we have is hot and spicy food)
Get more exercise.

Sounds like a plan for good, clean living if you ask me. Until I read the "recipe" listed at the right for Double Ear Soup. See below...

10 gm white fungus
10 gm black fungus
30 gm rock sugar

Put fungi in pot and soak in water until soft. Combine the fungi with sugar, steam for an hour in a double boiler until well cooked. Effect: Nourishes yin, moistens lung and improves inspiration for the kidney and brain.

Just what I've always wanted...moist lungs and inspired kidneys. Although, given my recent food intake, perhaps this is just the diet for me!

Show of hands if you're starting to wonder what voo-doo cult I've gotten mixed up in!!

2006-07-17T21:29:00.000-07:00

I have three dogs with separation anxiety, a husband I'm trying to raise, a really intense full-time job, and a restaurant I'm trying to get off the ground. I overcommit on a regular basis and rarely have time to see my family. I get about 6 hours of sleep a night and if I could function with less, I would. I'm so close to the edge, a good sneeze could throw me over. And yet, I thrive in this type of environment. Because I know my limitations. And if I had a child right now, I think you'd find me living in a van, down by the river...cuz I'd surely lose my mind.

But, it doesn't mean I don't want one!

A couple of weeks ago, I heard from a friend of mine who lives out of state. She's pregnant. Of course!! If you know me really well, then you either had a baby this year, are having a baby this year, or have heard me complain about the rediculous number of people I know having babies. It's great. I'm really excited. And over the moon for my friend, who's been trying for a while. And I totally understand. It's been 10 years since we graduated high school...people are ready to start breeding new generations of minature people. But, at least I still have a few friends without children.

Nope. Scratch that.

Today, I found out that my last married friend who doesn't have children yet and actually wants them is, indeed, pregnant. Super!! Sooooo very excited for her. Except now she has the toy I want to play with.

You know how that is, right? You see a kid playing with a certain toy when another kid comes up and tries to take it away from the first kid. That second kid had noooo interest in the toy until someone else starting playing with it. But once he saw the fun the first kid was having, he was all over it. So, this afternoon, I started thinking about how I wanted to play with someone else's toys. And felt a little sorry for myself. Until a really awesome person shared this little story with me. Now, I feel much, much better. I'm preparing for my beach vacation. And feeling sorry for the rest of you!! Enjoy - courtesy of Sandy!!

=============================================================

I’m going to point out why no one should be in a rush to have children. They really aren’t all they are cracked up to be…

Right now you can go on vacation to great tropical places where you relax and drink pina coladas on a beautiful beach…after children vacation is an exhausting and haggard trip to Disneyland where you spend 4 days chasing down elusive Cinderalla, spending $600 on hamburgers and fighting w/ your husband about who’s great flippin idea this was…

Right now when you stop at the store you go in, get your stuff, and leave, happy in 30 minutes max….after children it takes 10 minutes just to get the child out of the car…10 minutes to settle in cart…10 more minutes to fight with them not to stand in cart and then finally let them walk…1 to 2 hours (depends on how much of a hurry you are in, the less time you have the worse the behavior…they are born with internal monitors) chasing up and down aisle, 10 minutes to deal with absolute melt down in the candy section where you are positive every person is staring at you b/c you are the WORST mother in the world to let your child act like that…15 minutes taking everything out of the cart they put in.. finally break down and buy a lollipop to head off a second melt down while checking out…20 minutes to load child and groceries in the car….30 minutes the next day scrubbing melted lollipop out of the car…

Right now you can go to a restaurant…you can look at the menu, perhaps have conversation maybe a glass of wine….after children there is no looking at the menu, every moment is spent trying to keep them seated without screaming “I want my food” while banging on the table…there is no talking, because they must and insist on having every moment of attention…should you try to have a conversation with anyone they will begin throwing onto the floor everything they can grab…you would be amazed at the ability a 2 year old has to clear a table, including drinks in 1.5 seconds…after they stop becoming portable at 6 months until 6 years the closest you will get to a nice dinner at a restaurant is McDonalds…b/c although you will attempt to get a babysitter, you will end up spending most of your time calling home to see if everything is ok or receiving calls from the babysitter with questions like…so I can’t find Kevin and is it ok if junior plays in the pool?

Right now you have an extra $800 EVERY month…that’s right you might not know it but you do…b/c after kids it’s $800 month for day care and everyone finds it somewhere…don’t plan on daycare? It will cost $800/month for therapy for you to not start drooling from watching Teletubbies all day…

Right now you and your husband can have a knock em down, drag em out, you suck, no you suck argument followed by unbelievable making up…after kids you will spend the entire fight shushing each other so the kids don’t hear and may get to make up some time in the next 3 weeks IF the kids don’t need a drink, have to throw up, are scared…etc.

Most important….

Right now you can sleep…really sleep…like not have to get up sleep….like go to bed if you’re tired sleep…After kids there is no sleep, ever…not at any age...not at 2, not at 5, not at 10, and DEFINITELY not at 16…

So, today…plan a vacation (a really good one like Hawaii)…go to the store, spend your $800 and revel in your freedom…go to dinner tonight and enjoy every moment...then sleep and think how lucky you really are.

2006-07-14T23:37:00.000-07:00

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaack!

For those of you missing me this week, I've been insanely busy. I've been teaching drama at an arts camp our church hosted for kids all week. I had three groups of kids (50+ kids in total) who I worked with and put on three separate productions, which they did at a little expo tonight for their friends and family. All while still working, and literally working through the night to try and keep up with my job this week. Which I failed miserably at towards the end, although at no fault of my own. My computer id was revoked and I couldn't work for about 24 hours. Was sorely disappointed to find out it was just a system glitch and wasn't actually fired!

This is what I do in my spare time. And why I have no time to maintain any relationships. Except random moments when I can post in the blog and you can at least have an idea of where I'm at.

Anyway, if you're keeping tabs on my running, it hasn't happened this week. For two reasons. Number 1: it's been 147 degrees Fahrenheit here. It is too bloody hot to run and I seriously think they would find my limp body on the side of the road. In fact, there have been "heat advisories" all week long. I've lived here all my life and I don't remember any heat advisories, so I'm thinking it must be much, much hotter than it's ever been. And number two, I've barely had time to make it to Kung Fu three times this week with my crazy schedule, so there was just no additional time to fit it in. But it'll happen. And here's why. Let me outline my nutritional intake today for you.

Breakfast
One low fat, low calorie, part skim milk cheese stick
One fat free pretzel stick
On enormous fatty fat fat chocolate brownie....MMmmmmm

Lunch
Two Del Taco Chicken Soft Tacos
Iced tea, no sugar
One Tofutti cuttie Ice Cream Sandwich - which sounds vaguely healthy but it's not
M&Ms and Laffy Taffy from the snack bag that one of my sweet little students gave me today

Dinner
A delicious piece of white fatty cake from the Expo event after the kids performed - delish!
Really low fat, low calorie Asian noodle soup
An entire pint of soy ice cream

Ok...let's talk about this for a second. It's soy ice cream. It's good for you. It doesn't have refined sugar, because it's sweetened naturally. How bad could it really be???

It's bad. Really bad. Naughty bad. 10 grams of fat per serving bad. I ate four servings bad.

On any given day, one of the decadent desserts I had today would have completely discouraged me for getting off my plan. But FIVE desserts???? Seriously, could I have actually been any worse today? Have any of you ever been that bad in a single day? I feel sick. I feel like I'm in a food coma. And I'm totally, never eating again (tonight).

After relaying my discouragement about the pint of ice cream to my husband, gentleman that he is, he proceeded to berate me for being "so bad" when I've been doing "so good". Like, literally, made 5 separate comments about it. Until he realized he went too far, and then decided to say he was "just joking with me". Right. Thanks. You're still a jerk.

I was momentarily tempted to repost the story about the booger lodged in his toncils, but decided I'm not that vindictive. Plus, I just told you the best part, so you can use your imagination for the rest.

Anyway, I feel a divorce and a good cleansing run are in my future. Possibly in that order. Definitely tomorrow (the run, anyway). Although, I'm not sure I can digest 40 grams of fat before it gets too hot to run. Which is basically 6 am. [sigh]

In my defense, I'd like to point out the following. The ice cream I ate had these really delicious little nuggets of pecan pralines in them. But you had to keep digging to find them. And, after a while, I ran out of room in the container to keep pushing the ice cream aside to look for those little gems and had to start eating the ice cream. To make more room in the container to look for the nuggets. Which I greedily ate. With large bites of ice cream. So, you can see how that would happen, right?

I have no excuse for the other naughty things I ate today.

p.s...did anyone notice the absence of any actual food in my diet today, besides my two, puny little tacos?

p.p.s....is it possible to have a heart attack so soon after eating that much fat? Because I have a really weird pain on the left side of my body. Not sure what it could be, but definitely involved my heart and the suddenly clogged arteries associated with it.

2006-07-10T00:44:00.000-07:00

Isn't it funny how certain things take on new meaning in life?

When I started this new blog, I thought a mile in my shoes would be about my experiences on a daily basis. I had no idea it would actually become more about the miles I'm actually running in my shoes. Which are NOT high heeled, by the way.

If you've been following along, you know that I've recently started running. And by recently, I mean, I've run a grand total of 4 times in the last week and a half. Including tonight. It's something my doctor told me I should start doing. And because I love my doctor, I'm willing to give it a shot. Even though I think it is quite possibly the most miserable exercise I've ever done in my life. However, I have lost 2 inches off my waist in the same period of time that I've been "running". Coincidence?? Probably. But I'm not willing to chance it, so I must keep running.

Yesterday, I decided that I needed some more appropriate running clothes. And so I bought a pair of (fabulous) running shorts. They have built in undies - although I still wear my own - but the concept is that they don't ride up. Which is AWESOME. Since that was one of the things I always hated about running. And a really cool looking, white, mesh running shirt with blue stripes.

NOW I will look like a runner!!

Ok...here's something you should know. White mesh running shirts are made for people who are already runners. Not cute, chubby girls who are trying to LOOK like runners. You know what's really not cute? Fat rolls that are completely visible through white, mesh running shirts with blue stripes. Yuck!

So, of came the new white, mesh running shirt and on went the dark blue, ribbed, slightly looser, blue tank top. Ahhhh. So. much. better. Because I'm not about to suck my stomach in the entire time I'm running just so I can look cute in my new running shirt.

And off I went. Down the road I really have been avoiding because it's uphill in certain places. And I ran for 8 minutes straight, uphill!! Yeah, I know!! Awesome, huh? OK, so that part was actually mostly downhill, but the point was, I ran non-stop.

Right now, I don't want to hear from any of you who can run for 30 minutes straight if you're doing it on a treadmill or really flat land. Ok, I really don't want to hear from anyone that can run more than 8 minutes straight on any land. Let me live in my land of superiority for 5 minutes, would ya??

I walked for a grand total of 1 minute and then started running again. Yay me!! All of a sudden I find myself a mile into my run and very, very sick. Uh oh. Must stop running. Immediately.

I pull over to the side of the road and realize, I'm really going to be sick. Only, not the sick you are thinking of. Much, much worse. I'm at least half a mile from home, and that's if I take a short cut. So, I basically drag myself home and silently thank God for letting me buy a two story house that has a bathroom downstairs. Ahhhh.

After my excruciating ordeal, I have a headache, my hip hurts and I somehow pulled a muscle in the back of my foot/calf. I'm thinking that's a pretty important one?? And to reward my efforts, I have three organic oreo-like cookies. I should be supermodel thin in no time, eh?

All in all, I'm finding this running thing rediculous. I'm starting my own pool to see how long before my running career is over. Wanna place your bet?

And just in case you were wondering where all the funny jokes went tonight...when I was relaying this story to Andy earlier (albeit in more graphic detail) his response was...

"Shit happens."

Yes. It does.

Happy Monday.

2006-07-06T13:58:00.000-07:00

Dumb blondes...brunettes...red heads

Ever come across those people that you just wonder how they function on their own in society? Like, you look around to see where their caregiver is because there's no way they could possibly drive on their own, let alone interact in public?? Today, I became one of those people.

Before I tell my sad tale, let me give you an example of the type of person I'm speaking of. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...I was a telephone service center representative. And a darn good one at that!! My customers looooooved me!! But there was a certain type of person who would call and ruin my entire day. The person who can not grasp the concept of credits and debits.

Here's what happens...you see a charge on your statement that you don't recognize, so you call your friendly credit card company and "dispute" the charge. And your credit card company, in fairness to you, puts a "temporary" credit on your account and advises you to deduct the charge from the amount you send in with your payment this month. So then what happens is the credit card company seeks resolution from the merchant, who ends up crediting your account. For those of you paying attention, there are now two credits on your account, and only one debit - the original charge. Since your friendly credit card company is not in the business of giving away free money, they decide to take their "temporary" credit back. Only problem is, in the meantime, you've deducted that credit again when you sent in your next payment and now on your new statement you see a big fat charge from your not-so-friendly credit card company.

For those of you who passed basic math in school, you realize - I'm sure - that two credits and two debits in the same amount zero each other out. Basic principles of accounting, right?

Oh nooooo. It can't possibly be that easy.

I have explained the credit/debit phenomena about 37,812 times in my life. And most people get it. Because the real story is "Hey - you basically didn't pay your whole bill last month. You spent more than you had and used that credit to offset your balance. So now it's time to pay up!!"

But there are those people. The ones who don't "get it". The ones who I would have to make take out a piece of paper, draw a line down the middle, write "credit" on one side, "debit" on the other and basically walk them through all of their statements, matching up credits and debits as we go. Who, after going through that entire activity, are still convinced their rotten credit card company is trying to steal from them. If that doesn't say something about the education system in America, I don't know what does.

And then today, I became one of those callers.

While trying to sign into one computer system with the password for another system (duh!) I revoked my access to my computer. So, after waiting 10 minutes for someone to help me, I finally got connected to a live person. In India. Which I love!! So, as I'm relaying my story, I somehow get disconnected. (sigh) And have to call back in and start all over.

When I finally make it back through the loop, I get connected back to the same person I was just speaking with. Yay!! Only he tells me, "Oh no. You weren't speaking to me...it must have been someone who sounded like me."

Really?? With your same name? OK...well, now I feel like a moron AND this guy thinks I think that all people from India sound the same. Which, if he knew me, he would realize how absurd this stereotype is for me. But, I digress...

We finally get to the point where he's ready to give me my new password. For any of you who have ever had this happen, you know those temporary passwords are all random combinations of letters and numbers. They don't make real words. And so he starts telling me my password and it goes like this...

"Capitol W like william, lower case I like Indiana, the letter N like newton (newton???), T like thomas...."

At this point, I've zoned out and I'm just keying the letters in as he says them, completely entertained that the first part of the password spells out "Win". Ok, I'm easily amused, I know. In my daydreaming, I hit the enter key prematurely, and have to start all over. Here's where it gets good...

"Yeah...so, can you tell me that password again??"

"Ya sure...it's winter one, with a capital W, like the season. Winter. You know, spring, summer, fall, winter. "

"Ok...got it. Capitol 'W' like winter. Can you tell me the rest of it?"

"The rest of what?"

"The password. Capitol 'W' like winter. Can you spell the rest of the password for me?"

"Umm...ok...lower case i, like Indiana; n, like Newton; t like thomas..."

Yeah - you get the point now, don't you?? He basically spelled the word Winter for me about 4 times before I finally realized it was a word. With the number "1" on the end.

Arghhhhhhhhhhhh!

Where's my caregiver when I need them??

2006-07-04T22:08:00.000-07:00

Exercise...it's not just for skinny people anymore

Anyone who knows me, knows these two truths about me.

1. I looooooooove SUGAR
2. I haaaaaaaaaate EXERCISE

Which is why I think so many of you are shocked that I've stayed involved in Kung Fu this long. Let's face it...between my commitment issues and my ADD, it's amazing I made it two weeks, let alone two months. Almost three now! I'm shocked myself. And I have to say it's making me do things I never thought possible.

Like running.

Previously, if you had given me the option, I would have picked chewing on a bag of razor blades over running. There are just some things cute (chubby) girls should not do. And running is one of them. But we ran in Kung Fu last week...and I survived. So I ran (on my own) at home Sunday night. And survived. And actually liked it?? Well, no. But I didn't feel like I was going to throw up/pass out/scream profanities. I feel like that's a small milestone to celebrate.

So there's a lot of things I can do now, that I wasn't able to do before. And it's a good thing. Because I'm going to open a restaurant this year. And if I don't get into a good routine of exercise and eating (significantly) less sugar, I will weigh 400 pounds. But here's what I don't understand. And so I pose this question to all you die hard exercise nuts out there.

Why in the bloody hell does my body hurt all the time??? Haven't I been working out enough that this should go away????

Case in point. We played a game of dodge ball on Monday. With those rediculously light air filled balls that you buy at the grocery store. So, it's not like we were throwing around 20 pound medicine balls or anything. These balls are slightly heavier than AIR. And today, when I woke up, I couldn't raise my right arm above my head. In fact, even now as I write this, my entire right side hurts. Including the ribs in my BACK.

WHY????????????????

I'd like to point out that before I started all this heathly lifestyle crap, I weighed six pounds less and woke up everyday without aches, pains or bruises. Now, I weigh more, hurt more and am covered in round yellow/brown/black/blue circles all over my body (advantages of full contact sport, I guess).

So, I ask those of you who have come before me...does it ever get better?? And when?? Cuz my nice, soft couch looks pretty good right about now!

2006-06-28T17:03:00.000-07:00

OCD...it's a real disease

I live in the land of obsessive compulsive disorder order. And it's getting worse. I fully expect to come home one day and find my husband in the garage, closing each car door 14 times. You laugh, but he already does it with the front door lock. For those of you who used to read the other hill house blog, you'll remember how he wouldn't drive his car one day because he was sure the battery was going to die if he turned on his car too many more times.

Last week, I went for a walk around the neighborhood. Before leaving, I went into the garage, opened my car, put my car keys in the front seat, took the garage door opener out, opened the garage, left the opener in the garage and ran out as the door was closing. Fully intending to go back in through the front door once I returned. This is how things get lost in my house. I knew where my keys were. But when I returned home, I found the garage door opener in my purse and my car keys in the house.

Huh? How did that happen???

"I found your garage door opener in the garage (shocking!) and didn't want someone to break in, take it and steal your car since the keys were in the car."

Interesting. A couple of observations, if I can...first of all, does he follow behind me, retracing my every step? The answer is, yes. And it's kinda creepy if you ask me. Second, the average home price in our neighborhood is like, almost a million dollars. Not ours of course...but thankfully the homes around us bring up the curve. Do you really think Barbie and her kid's nanny from down the street are gonna jack my car from inside a closed garage in the 45 minutes that I'm gone? Yeah, I didn't think so either. So, you can see how strange things get around here. Luckily I found out about this one in time. Instead of the next morning when he was at work - unavailable - and I couldn't find my car keys.

I've found our snorkle gear inside of suitcases. Somewhat logical, I guess. Receipts from 1997 that we can't bear to part with. So they're kept and transfered into the "box o' shame". No, really. That's what it's called. I have to find the mail key when were still 20 minutes from home, because we're "almost there" and he doesn't want to wait once we get to the mailbox. But the best example of this craziness came yesterday, when I got home from work.

I walked into the laudry room and went to kick off my shoes in the space where all my shoes normally live. And proceeded to walk into my refrigerator. Which is normally in (of all places) the kitchen.

Right. Where most people keep their refrigerators.

I guess this is to be expected. We have the cadillac of all fridges coming to live with us tomorrow, and I can't wait!! The light in our current ghetto fridge went out 7 years ago and hasn't worked since. So, I NEED this fridge. I WANT this fridge. I DESERVE this fridge. But I really thought that until the new fridge came, I would get to keep my old fridge. In the kitchen. So I could eat the food that resides in it.

But no. We must be prepared.

So two days before the new fridge comes, the old one is moved away. Of course I wanted to know how he moved it. By himself. Well...first, he had to remove the laundry room door from its hinges...

OK...stop right there. I do not want to know anymore. Just please tell me my Soymilk is still in the fridge??? Ahhhh....yes indeed.

Seems silly that he might have thrown it away. But this is the same man who packed up all the food in our pantry six weeks before we moved into our new house...so we could be prepared. It got so bad, I basically had a tooth brush and my prison issued uniform the last couple of weeks we were there. Everything else was packed away.

There's a lot of pressure when you live in OCD land like I do. Especially when you aren't a card carrying member. Like this morning when I went to have my cereal, and had to walk to the laundry room for the soymilk. That's just weird.

I mean, I've got issues too...but mine are more socially accepted! ;-)

2006-06-26T23:24:00.000-07:00

The definition of insanity

Have you ever eaten something and halfway through realized it was going to make you sick later on? Yeah. I know everyone's done that before, right?

Ever done it twice with the same thing? I've heard the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. Well, call me crazy.

Some time ago I bought a frozen delight I was so excited to come across in my friendly Henry's grocery store. Chai tea blended and frozen, in a handy dandy little ice cream pint container. Mmmm...this would make the perfect blended chai tea latte...or so I thought.

So, a few days after buying this, I made an awesome smoothie out of this, in combination with some delicious Silk Vanilla Soymilk...which never disappoints! And I was violently sick for several hours afterwards. Convinced it was the chai concoction, I've been content to leave the remainder of this chai-cream in the freezer. I've looked at it a number of times when searching for a popsicle and immediately passed it by, remembering what happened the last time. (Sidenote: I have this same reaction to TGI Friday's Mudslides. Just the thought makes me quiver)

But then tonight, I feel the need for something sweet. Of which there is nothing in the house. Trust me, I've already resorted to eating a combination of raisins and carob chips. Mmmm, carob chips. Like chocolate chips only disgusting and really disgusting.

So, in desperation, I reached for the frozen chai. Must have been a fluke, right? I'm sure it was something else I ate that gave me the reaction the last time. So, I blended it up with some delish soymilk and chugged it down. And it was awesome!! Until the last couple of bites when something tasted distinctively WRONG. And now I sit here, trying to complete my performance review for work (which was due, like 3 days ago!) and dealing with the realization that I will see frozen chai a bit sooner than I had hoped for.

(sigh)

The bad news is, I feel really sick. The good news? I think I'm guaranteed to be awake for the next several hours, so I might actually finish my performance appraisal. Oh, and the even better news? I finally spelled guaranteed right on the first try. Nice! ;-)

Never, ever eat the same thing twice if it's already made you sick once.

2006-06-25T22:05:00.000-07:00

A Sommelier I am not...

I saw the movie Sideways and while it was good, I just couldn't understand being that obsessive about wine. I mean, come on...wouldn't a nice cuervo gold margarita hit the spot just as good as a glass of wine?

Apparently not. And the more exposure I get to the good stuff, the more I'm starting to understand. I thought I was fairly competent in ordering and enjoying wine, but sadly I've learned today that I have soooo much to learn.

I made a trip to World Market today, because they've always had such an awesome selection. Today, I had the education of a lifetime. While looking for a yummily delicious wine I tried a couple of weeks ago, I learned my first of several lessons which I share with you tonight...

Lesson #1
Some restaurants actually have a lock on certain wines. As in, they are the only people who can get and sell those wines. Huh?? Is that legal? Or moral? Doesn't that equate to them (essentially) being like crack dealers? They know I'm gonna get hooked and come back for more. So they make sure I can only get it from them. They become my wine pimps. What's up with that??

Lesson #2
While helping me select some red wines, the awesome wine aficionado says to me, "You do decant your wines, right?"

Hmmm. OK, so I'm vaguely aware of this term and what it means. And I think you only do it with red wine? But beyond that, I'm clueless. So, I just look up at him and repeat (in a very small voice) "decant"?

To which this sweet man looks me in the eyes and says, "Honey - I'm about to change your life."
I gotta tell ya...there's nothing better that any guy can say to you than that!!

This leads in to a 20 minute discussion on how, when, where and why to decant wines. And how doing this can prevent headaches the next morning!! (Yay!! More drinking on a school night!!)Which I am (proudly) doing at this very moment. In my new glass pitcher. Also, we had a lovely discussion on the merits of whether or not to stir the wine while decanting. Which, I am also doing - periodically.

My new anxiety?? How the HECK am I gonna do this in the restaurant???

Lesson #3
Wine should be drank a minimum of three to five years from the date on the bottle. So wines from 2004?? Not ready yet...keep moving. This, I had noooooo idea about. Makes sense...I guess that's why they show you the front of the bottle before opening it at your table in nice restaurants?? So. much. to. learn.

Lesson #4
Spain actually makes white wines. And some really snazzy ones. Who knew?? Try a wine called Nora when you get a chance. Money back guarantee!!

Lesson #5
This lesson involved things like tannins (which are bad?) and other really advanced things that I can't remember. Go to your friendly neighborhood wine store and ask them for lesson number five when you get a chance.

Lesson #6
There are many wines out there that are actually a combination of several types of wines. I now have in my personal collection a wine that is made up of three red wines and one white wine. All in the same bottle. Interesting. Haven't tried it yet, so I'll keep you posted. But I'm fascinated. It seems maybe that wineries are taking a lesson from college kids who have a little bit left of a couple different wines and just blend them all together for one more glass? Again, who knew??

Lesson #7
I'll stop here. Because quite frankly, I can't remember anything else. But hopefully that was enough to impress you??

You should know, I've been busily decanting while writing this, and I have to say....mmmm, yummy! It really works. Trust me. Go out and buy yourself a bottle of wine called Centine, pronounced Chen-tin-ay, and decant it for exactly one hour and 15 minutes. Then tell me how fabulous it was!!

Oh...and I just read the label again. It's a blend of Sangiovese, Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot...yum, yum!

You know what else really, really rocks about wine? There's no caloric information printed on the label. How's that for don't ask, don't tell??? ;-)

Happy Sunday!

2006-06-22T16:15:00.000-07:00

WARNING!!!

This post is graphic in nature and medically explicit. Reading this is not recommended for individuals suffering from heart conditions, weak stomachs or any remaining persons who still - at this moment - have some degree of respect left for me. You can't undo what's already been done. So consider that before you read any further!

p.s...it's also incredibly long. sorry about that. but there's some good stuff here!!
*********************************************************************************

Never ignore little pains. Because often times, they become rather large pains.

I'm gonna put it out there for all of you. I am a slight hypochondriac. Which is why I don't watch the news anymore. If I hear the symptons of some new disease, ailment or itch - I'll get it. I can't help it...it's just how my brain works. So far I've had ever kind of cancer you can imagine, a few brain tumors, seven heart attacks, SARS, the bird flu and flesh eating bacteria virus. I say this not in a funny way, but just to illustrate that sometimes I have symptoms of things that don't really exist. And I'm trying to get better. Because, basically, no one will take me to the hospital anymore. (I exaggerate...only slightly)

So with the understanding that I'm trying to be better about these things, you'll appreciate why I ignored the really, really sharp pain on my right side for two days. It's nothing. Gas, cramps, pulled muscle. Nothing to worry about. And especially now, with my new martial arts career, I'm constantly in pain from working out and getting beat up, so I just don't have time to assume it's something worse than what it is.

Yeah...I'm going back to being a hypochondriac. About one-thirty yesterday afternoon, that little sharp pain became a REALLY sharp pain. "Ouch!" I thought. That can't be good. I ignored it for a few more minutes until I looked down to see if a midget was actually stabbing me in the side with a knife, which I was convinced must have been happening. Alas, no such luck. So, I got up from my desk in search of sympathy. And found none. "You're fine. You're not dying" was the response from my husband. And I kept telling him, "no, it's really different this time!!" To which he replied, "OK, little boy who cried wolf. Whatever you say."

Alright, maybe I really am fine. I'll just stand up and go back to wooooooooooooo, what was that???? Oh my gosh, I could not even stand up straight. Suddenly, the pain was super intense. I couldn't move, couldn't touch my side, nothing. OK, something was really wrong, no matter what he thought. I was calling my mom (a nurse), pronto!

After I explained my symptoms - and cried a little - my mom calmly informed me that it sounded like an appendicitis. And that I should seek medical attention. Immediately. Only, this is what I heard...

"Oh my gosh!!! Your internal organs are exploding as we speak and leaking poisonous substances into your body. You are going to have to undergo immediate, emergency surgery and be in a whole lot of pain. Plus, you might die."

Huh. OK...I might call the doctor then. Which I did. And the receptionist told me he could see me at 3:30 that afternoon. I was roughly 2pm at this point. OK...90 minutes. I can make it. As long as I don't move too much between now and then. So I sat quietly on the couch. And then realized I would need to cancel my private lesson for Kung Fu scheduled later that day. Here's a transcript of that conversation.

Ms Rich: "Shaolin Arts.."

Me: (gulp) "Ms. Rich??"

Ms Rich: "Yes, Andrea?"

Me: "Um, I'm really sorry but I need to cancel my private lesson today." Because even in all my pain, I'm still really afraid of her and/or thought she might make me come in anyway.

Ms Rich: "OK - when can you reschedule?"

Me: "Uh, I'm not sure because I'm sorta on my way to the hospital with an appendicitis, so I'm gonna have to get back to you if that's ok?"

Ms Rich: "I see..."
damn! she must know I'm a hypochondriac too. plus, at this point I really was heading to the hospital, because there was no way I could wait until 3:30.

Right after that call, my doctor's office called back. Seems my condition had moved me up to the front of the line and they could see me right now. Ya think???

After a few tests and one excruciating exam, I was (thankfully) informed that I was NOT having an appendicitis. Whew!! I looked at the doctor with a knowing expression..."Gas??" I asked, mortified beyond belief.

"Nope. Ruptured cyst." Can I just tell you how happy and smug I was in that moment? I looked over, pleased with myself, at my husband and smirked. "you see??" I telepathed to him, "there IS something wrong with me!" That should make him feel really bad, I thought. To deal with his feelings of shame in being such a rotten husband, he picked up a magazine and began to read it. Distracting his mind of the horror he must have felt at almost letting me bleed to death internally. A few pain pills, some blood work and an appointment for an ultrasound, I left the office and went home to suffer in not-so-silent silence.

This morning, I headed off to west New Mexico, for my ultrasound appointment at the Mayo Clinic. Having drank the obligatory 48oz of water required, I showed up on time (amazing!) and was immediately taken to the locker room, where my technician would meet me once I'd removed various items of clothing. After 30 minutes of her pushing on my bladder so hard, I thought I was going to cry - or wet my pants - she finally let me use the restroom. Before the next part of the exam...the internal ultrasound.

I returned to the room where she was holding the "wand". And then she told me what she was going to do with it. This is wrong, I thought to myself. This can't be right, can it? I looked over to the bed where I had been laying and noticed there were now stirrups where only empty space had been previously.

Oooookay. I know where you can put that wand, and it's not going to be where I am.

But then she locked the door and I could see that there was no escape. So I did what I had to do...I laid down and took it like a man. That's right, I whimpered softly to myself the whole time. Let me assure you...if you have to have a medical procedure with a tool that requires its own condom...it's not going to be enjoyable. I'm choosing not to tell you any more details because it was completely humiliating. As far as personal violations go, it was a tie with the time I willingly decided to undergo a colonic 'cleansing', in hopes of losing a few pounds.

Anyway, after an HOUR of this fun and exciting event, the technician said she needed to review her pictures with the doctor. Her pictures??? Those are MY pictures, sista! And they better not show up on the internet. I knew there was something not right, because the event took so long. But I never expected her to return, with the doctor in tow.

Ok...something's definitely not right here. Because I'm sure this guy doesn't even pump his own gas, let alone do his own scans. He quickly explained to me that there was a problem and he needed to get a better look at my internal organs. Lucky me!! So, back out came the wand and back in it went. While he was explaining the cyst to me, I asked if it was in my ovary. Mainly because that's the only internal body part I could think of at the time.

"In?? Honey...in, around and on top of. I can't even SEE your ovary, it's that big."

Wow...you must be great with the ladies, Dr. McDreamy.

So, the moral of the story is this. Never, ever ignore sharp little pains. Even if others tell you that you're crazy. If I can save one person from the pain and suffering I've endured, then sharing my story was worth it!

2006-06-18T20:53:00.000-07:00

It's Sunday night and I'm enjoying my second(ish) glass of wine and a beautiful evening. I thought I might attempt to write something funny so that you'll have a chuckle to look forward to on Monday morning. Only, the alcohol might slightly impair my ability to do this successfully. We'll see how it goes...I have to say, I'm so delighted to see how many of you are checking in regularly to be entertained. And thanks for all your emails of encouragement to keep writing. You're each my motivation!!

So, you should know something about me...if you don't already. I'm not the person you want around in case of an emergency. I'm useless. I did have one shining moment a few years ago in a horrible accident, which I'm sure I've already told you about, because it was my proudest moment. Although, I did make Andy go to the car first and make sure no one was dead and stood hunched over, ready to vomit until he told me it was ok. I'm just not good in bad situations. Here are my typical responses:

- sheer panic, where I can not even move
- sheer hysteria, where I can't calm down
- sheer hysterics, where I can't stop laughing

Sadly, the latter is usually my response of choice. I don't know what it is, but something is just really wired wrong in me. I don't mean to laugh, and I'm completely conscious of the fact that it's wrong while I'm doing it, but I just can't control it. Which is really not the response you're looking for if your hurt, maimed, bloody or broken. I'm sorry. But realize this...in my current state, even though I'm laughing, I'm at least capable of providing assistance. God help you if something happens and you find me in one of my other states of emergency response.

(pause...I need a refill)

Game on...and a question for you...is it wrong that I just brought the entire bottle of vino to me instead of just filling up my glass? I think no..just more entertaining for you!!

Where were we? Ah yes...emergency response situations. I must admit that writing tonight's blog may actually cause my husband to leave me. I have two funny stories, the second of which he's threatened my life if I should tell you. We'll see how it goes.

Anyway, earlier this weekend, Andy and I decided to go to Picazzo's for dinner. It had been a while since he'd been, and even though I'm there all the time, I thought I'd humor him. On the drive, he reached for one of the water bottles I had stashed in my car. Which of course is one of my major pet peeves because a) I don't like to share, especially where germs are involved; and, 2) how many times have I told him to 'be prepared'? You know we're leaving on a long drive, so pack your own water bottle. That way you have something to drink when you're thirsty and we don't have to fight about it. I know...you'd hate to be married to me. Lucky for you, that job's already been filled!

Anyway, he's sucking down the last of my prestine water, and I'm looking at him with evil eyes, hoping he'll choke on it. When all of a sudden...he does. Choke that is. He's got a mouth full of water. And then, his eyes are buggin' out of his head. And his face is turning blue. I felt like I was ten, and watching Pee-Wee Herman's Big Adventure. You know that part where the bus driver's face gets all distorted like that??? You should rent it if you have no idea what I'm talking about. But then, I become aware of the fact that he's choking AND driving at the same time. And I feel it coming on...I'm going to start laughing. I mean, I'll help him of course, but the hysteria of the situation hits me and in between life flashing before my eyes and the visualization of my car flipping upside down, I am ACTUALLY laughing! What is wrong with me?!?!?

Anyway, before I could do anything, his body starts to convulse a little. Oh no. I know that motion. That heaving of shoulders and tightening of the lips. It's coming out the way it went in. No sooner did I open my mouth to yell "nooooooooooooooooooooo" did the water, to the power of 12, come flying OUT of his mouth. And all over my car. And worse...all over me.

I think by now you must realize that my love has boundaries. And hot, disgusting, germy, mouth-infected water all over my light weight-linen capris which are now sticking to my leg is a boundary. And he crossed it. I think I might actually vomit. Seriously, I feel an attack of the dry heaves coming on. And...what?? What is he doing?? He's laughing?!?! Are you kidding me?? This is a major emergency situation now. Code germ. Must be contained. And he's laughing???

I sometimes wonder what God was thinking when He said, "It is not good for man to be alone. So I shall make him a helper." Yeah...I don't want to be the helper. Especially if that requires me wearing germ infested pants that 10 minutes ago looked really hot on me, and now look...wet.

[sigh]

Well friends...we are now at a crossroad. I have another funny story to tell you. But I might have to sleep on the couch if I do. So, I leave it to you. If you feel that you can't go another moment without hearing it, then let your voice be heard. Otherwise, it will go to the grave with me. Happy Monday everyone!! :)

Andrea

2006-06-17T15:03:00.000-07:00

Addendum to last Monday's post...

Jacki (my most loyal reader - wassup girl!!) reminded me of something else that is soooo rediculous in the restroom. When I read her comment, I thought about letting it pass, enjoying the chuckle for myself. But then I realized, my post really was incomplete without calling this one out too...

These are two bathroom behaviors I will never understand. Brushing your teeth or re-applying your make-up in a public restroom. A place where bad things happen.

So, while I can understand, appreciate and even support the act of proper dental hygenie, do you have to do it HERE??? I mean, come on!! Is your breathe really that bad that a tic tac or some sugar free gum can't clear up the situation?? Or can't you just bring some floss to work and get that last little bit of chicken caesar salad out in the privacy of your own work space? Flossing is really better for you anyway...ask your dentist. It's just, when you brush your teeth in the public restroom, it stinks up the whole place with that minty fresh aroma...which just doesn't complement the industrial strength bleach smell already lingering in the air. Plus, sometimes when you're brushing, you look up at me and smile or (worse) talk to me with that mouth full of foam and it just makes me want to gag. I don't even like looking myself in the eye when I'm brushing my teeth. Ugh.

Now I know some of you out there have much better teeth than I do, and it's probably because you brush them after lunch. Good for you. You get the gold star. And we can agree to disagree. But I gotta tell you, it's just wrong in my eyes.

But the one that I just can't get behind is the girl who's got to reapply a full face of make-up when I'm trying to get a little privacy after a bad Indian-food potluck on the 2nd floor. Ladies, where are you going at 3:30 in the afternoon that you need to orchestrate an Extreme Makeover: Beauty Edition in the ladies room??? Better yet, what have you been doing during the day (while working in an OFFICE BUILDING) that you need to start from ground zero and build a few more layers on your already finished face?

I sit in my stall and wait for you to leave, playing a little game I like to call, 'how much make-up do you have in that bag of yours'? I can usually identify where you're at in the process by the sounds you make. Three clicks? Mascara wand, fully loaded. Clink, clock? The sound of you replacing the eyeshadow brush and closing the lid. Ziiiiip. Clunk, clunk, clunk? Oh, the worst sound. You have set up a triage station, unloading the full contents of your make-up bag. We're gonna be here for a while. And the worst sound? The false footsteps. A novice would think that was the sound of you walking out of the ladies room. She'd make the mistake of exiting early, coming face to face with you in the most akward of situations. Where the power shifts and she looks at you, like "what have you been doing in there???" Oh no, I know better. Those click clacks on the tile were just the sounds of your getting closer to the mirror so you can better admire your most recent work of art. Well, let's get a move on Picasso, cuz I've got 7 minutes until my next meeting and you're really cramping my style here!

Thanks Jacki for reminding me of what I had forgotten...reason number 477 thousand of why I LOOOOOOOOOOVE working from home!!

:)

2006-06-16T21:21:00.000-07:00

Is it me?

For whatever reason, I seem to attract both strange and unusual people to me. And they want to tell me things. Intimate things. Things I really don't want to know. But they really want to tell me. I can't imagine what vibe I must be putting out there that says to folks, "Come all ye who are wearied and burdened...and I will give you a listening ear and a shoulder to slobber on." But I have to say, this phenomena has crossed a new boundary...the massage table.

Today, my awesome friend Marci and I (love ya girl!) went for massages at a really amazing day spa. The whole experience was so great. Spa robes and slippers. Fruit infused water. A 'quiet room' where you wait for your therapist to come for you. I was zen. I was yinging and yanging. I was stress free.

And then came my sweet, young massage therapist. Who's only been working here for two months but luckily they just hired someone else, so she's not the newest person anymore because that's really uncomfortable and you hate being the new person and you don't have any friends and it's really not very fun at all, you know?

Uh huh...now turn off the lights and start your magic, sista...cuz I'm here to be relaxed.

I spent an hour of my life today laying naked on a table, held hostage to the entire life story of my massage therapist. Maybe I had it coming...I did ask her a few questions. Like, how long have you been doing this? Where have you worked before? And, when do we start? Sadly...she interpreted those to mean: when were you born? what do you like about anything and everything? and, can you tell me every moment in your life from birth to present??

[sigh]

Isn't there a rule that massage therapists aren't supposed to talk louder than a whisper at any time, and speaking more than 10 words means failure to build a stress free happy client? Unless those words are "how's the pressure?" "where does it hurt?" or "mind if I go a few minutes longer?" I don't really want to hear from you.

Did you know she got in trouble a lot at her last job for talking too much to the clients during the massage????

Nooooooooooo. Say it isn't so!

But, like the polite girl my mom raised me to be, I smiled and laughed at her stories and listened patiently to her woes. All the time thinking that at my next massage, I'm starting out the conversation in the following way...

'No hablas ingles'

2006-06-15T21:27:00.000-07:00

Innocence Lost

Tonight's blog is actually about someone I don't even know. But it was the cutest thing I've ever seen, and I just have to share. Of course, a small amount of humiliation is involved, but trust me...he'll never know.

I was up in Sedona earlier this week, and had an amazing day. To cap off my afternoon, I decided to head down to Oak Creek. I can never resist an opportunity to stick my feet in any amount of water. So, I know you're thinking...single girl, slippery rocks, middle of nowhere...this is a recipe for disaster. And normally, you would be correct! But I was careful and the fates smiled kindly on me.

While I was sitting in the middle of the creek on a big, flat rock, I noticed a family enter the creek a few hundred yards ahead of me. A mother, father, a little boy - who was probably about 6 or 7, and a little toddler girl. Awwwww. I had so much fun watching the dad take his kids out in the creek and play in the water. At a certain point, the little boy was stripped down to nothing but his scoobie doo underoos. Oblivious to the fact that he was playing in water - in a hugely public area - in his undies, the little boy seemed to be having so much fun.

And then they showed up.

Three cute, adorable pre-teen girls. (gulp)

The girls entered the creek down by where I was sitting. I saw them coming, but of course the little boy didn't. He was busy leaping over rocks and splashing in the creek. The girls started making their way downstream towards the sweet, innocent, little boy. And then he looked up. And froze...

He saw the girls. And realized they could see him. In his underwear.

I don't think he moved for a good 30 seconds. In that very instant, a life of future rejection and humiliation flashed past his adorable eyes. He knew, intuitively, that this would be the first of many horribly ackward situations with cute girls. And there was nothing he could do. It was as if he just learned there was no Santa, the tooth fairy was actually his mom and bunnies don't really lay eggs...even at Easter.

I guess I should take some great lesson away from this about life. But instead...I just laughed. I'm not sure what that says about me as a person, but I did find the situation sweet and funny all in the same moment.

And for anyone I'm related to, who reads this blog...PLEASE do not feel the need to remind me of any time something like this happened in my life. I might need a couple of therapy sessions just for the trauma I feel for that little boy...don't make me relive anything I might have suppressed!

Note to self: undies in public...baaaaaaad idea

2006-06-14T21:04:00.000-07:00

Mules, donkeys, asses...they're all the same to me.

This post is for my peeps from Kung Fu...girls, you know who you are...welcome to the blog!

For those of you who don't know, I started taking martial arts in mid-April of this year...Kung Fu to be precise. And I love it (now), but when I first started, I have to admit I was bullied into it.

The first night I came to "try" a class, we did a solid 45 minutes of nothing but lunges. Different variations of lunges. But lunges, nonetheless. Afterwards, we came back in to the studio where we had to do all kinds of kicks, while the instructor went on and on about how important it was to build strong legs so we could have great kicks. Only my legs were now like jell-o after that rediculous workout and there was nothing "strong" about my kicks. I just kept thinking, 'if you wanted me to kick stronger, you shoulda probably done this part FIRST!"

Anyway, I was quite sure that would be my first - and last - experience with Kung Fu. Only the instructor called me. And kept calling me. And I tried to blow her off, but let's face it...I was frightened of her. So, eventually I came back. And I'm glad I did! So far, the results in my body have been amazing. I've gained six pounds!! Isn't that great?!?! Oh, wait...I'm suppossed to LOSE weight? Yeah, that's not working out so great for me. But hey...I'm sure it'll just fall off me once my body's done gaining all my new muscle...unbelievable that I actually PAY for this class, isn't it?

So now that you have that background on why I spend three nights a week in the most compromising positions, sweating it out with everyone from 12 year old kids to super kung fu warriors, you can appreciate our "lesson" tonight.

After learning a couple variations of a cool new kick (don't remember the name) that I totally ROCKED at, it was time to learn something called the mule kick. I don't know why the name didn't give it away, but I thought...how hard could it be??

Let me assure you...when someone starts a sentence with the words "go ahead and get down on all fours" you probably don't want to do what comes next. I wish I had the words to describe what we did, but honestly...it might scar you. And I don't want the therapy bills. But think about a mule for a moment, and how it kicks with its back legs. Ok, so now imagine me in that position. And the following instructions:

Now transfer all of your weight to your hands, kick your legs up and back in the air, keeping your feet together.

Huh?!?!??!?!??!??!?!

Interestingly enough, I was able to do it. (Thanks Mom - for all those years of gymnastic lessons...you have no idea how often they come in handy). But it was quite possibly the most rediculous thing I've ever done. In a white uniform. On all fours. Humiliating.

I just have to say this. I'm pretty sure if I ever find myself in a position where I'm on all fours on the ground, either

a) the fight is over; or,

b) I'm about to be lying in the fetal position, sucking my thumb.

Mind floss, anyone?

2006-06-12T22:08:00.000-07:00

For the ladies...

This is for all you gals out there who have ever hid out in the bathroom. No, I'm not talking about high school when you were trying to avoid that mean girl. Or worse, that nerdy boy. I'm talking present day, post-pubescent, hide and don't seek me out.

Fair warning...If you work with me, near me or know me, you may not want to read this. In fact, if there's ever been a doubt in your mind about my bathroom behaviors, you might just check back in tomorrow when a new, less revealing update is posted. But for the rest of you...

Today, I realized I am a bathroom snob. Maybe it's because I work from home now and don't have to share my potty with 600 other women. But when I was in the office today for the first time in a long time, it became painfully evident to me that I'm not thrilled at sharing my personal space in the powder room.

Before I go on, I must ask...what's the fascination with chatting it up in the ladies room. I mean, honestly...if it's really been "so long" since we've seen each other and you're "dying" to catch up, why don't you just stop by my desk? Or call me! Heck, I'm online so much, you could email me and almost simultaneously get a response. Please - let a girl get a few moments of peace!

Come on, let's be honest. No one wants to hang around and let the lingering effects catch up with them. We wanna get in, get out and move on. But, for whatever reason, I must give off an aura that says, 'please stop me and ask me all sorts of questions about my life while I'm washing my hands and trying to make sure my skirt is on straight.' I mean, honestly! So, in honor of all you bathroom talkers, I'm opening up about the lengths I've gone to, in order to avoid you.

I can see you through the little crack in the door. And I have stayed in my own stall until you've come and gone. That's right...I'm willing to let you think I had some bad burritos for lunch, in order to get a few more moments of private time without conversation.
Speaking of staying longer...I will. When I'm sick, I'll stay until every last person has left, because I don't want you to know 'it was me'. You KNOW what I'm talking about...so could ya hurry up with the hand washing already?
If you come and sit down next door and I recognize your shoes, I'll pick my own feet up of the ground. Lest you should recognize my own truly fabulous shoes and strike up a conversation with me.
Sad but true...I've seen you coming and pretended to be checking voicemail on my cell phone. Sorry...it's nothing personal. I mean, it is...but not towards you!
When caught at the sink washing my hands by a talker, I will pretend that I was just washing something off my hands BEFORE using the restroom. That way, I have a chance to escape back into the stall. Ahhhhhhh...solitude
Finally...you may have said my name in the restroom, trying to get my attention and engagement in a conversation. I heard you and ignored you...on purpose. I'm busy here!

So, the next time we cross paths in the potty, let's keep the eyes low and the feet moving. Alright ladies?

2006-06-11T10:52:00.000-07:00

It's been an interesting week for me...in case you're wondering where all the updates have gone!

First, there have been some issues with the host for this blog, so I couldn't get in for a couple of days.

Next, we've been really busy with the restaurant, including hiring an assistant manager...yippee!!

Also, my friend has been in town and we had a baby shower for her yesterday. Which was really fun, but also made me wonder if I could really handle having a baby. More on that in another blog...trust me, I've got a lot of issues to work through on that one!

But mostly, not a lot of funny things have happened to me this week. Odd isn't it? I haven't broken, lost or stolen anything (accidentally, of course!); I haven't got stuck in the desert, hit something with my car or fallen off of anything...all things that usually happen to me in a given week.

In fact, the biggest drama in my life has been over how much wine I've been able to consume in the last couple weeks. An issue that's starting to bring a little anxiety into my life with my hubby constantly saying things like "alcoholic" and "drunk driving" and "jail time". For the record, I DON'T drink and drive...these are all just things he likes to say to scare me.

And now, with my birthday coming up, I'm feeling older than ever. Is it possible that I'm not funny anymore? That the addition of age and alcohol have suppressed the 'wild and crazy gal' that used to take up residence here? Could I be....[gulp] growing up???

I hope not...for everyone's sake. But mostly for my own. So, this week, I'll be in search of my own holy grail...of funny that is. So check in regulary. Because if I can't make you laugh, then really...what hope does anyone else have?

2006-06-05T12:15:00.000-07:00

Why I could never have an affair...

Well, besides the fact that I can't handle the one man I have, and certainly don't need another...my husband just reminded me today of why I would be lousey at sneaking around.

To empathize with my story, you must first understand that it's been only recently that my sweet hubby has joined the land of the technologically advanced. As computer skills are now required in law enforcement, he's quickly had to come up to speed on all things windows related. Including typing! To give you some back story, he previously didn't know that the "x" closed out the window you were working on. Now he can manage, like, 47 screen simultaneously. He's started sending me text messages with words like "whacha doing" and "LOL" and all kinds of random cyber diction replacing his usually perfect grammer.

I guess I didn't realize how good his skills had gotten until today. I mean, this is the same person who would have to ask me for his email password, how to attach a file...how to print a document.

Yeah...well those days are over. His new fixation?? Checking my email. And what did he find in my email last night? A conversation between me and a friend about my new blog. And he managed to scroll down in the email and see the link to this new blog. (Which I of course had told him about, but had no idea he even knew how to access it, being so computer illiterate and all!!) So...he clicks on the link, reads the posts and discovers my dirty little secret.

Yes...he found out about the incident at the gas station. And boy, did I get an earfull today!!

So, this can only mean one of two things:

a. No more secrets shared in this blog (yeah, right!); or,
b. I will have to use "fictional characters" in my stories [sigh]

So now, here's the question...and you get to vote! Who's in the wrong? Me, for not disclosing a small, minor little issue with my vehicle, or him...for hacking into my email!

Your vote decides who remains in the hill house...(read: who remains in control of the hill house)

Happy Monday!!

2006-06-02T21:51:00.000-07:00

Functioning in Mainstream Society

There's been a running joke in my house for years that it's a wonder I can even stay gainfully employed, given the fact that on a daily basis I lose my car keys, my shoes or my cell phone. Sometimes all at the same time. And that's a mild day. Case in point...when my wedding rings were stolen from my house a month ago, we waited several hours to file a police report until the house was completely turned upside down in a massive search party. Just to make sure I hadn't "accidentally" put them somewhere else.

Tonight, my deepest fears may have been realized. I think I might be mildly retarded. [sigh]

My battery died in the parking lot of Staples. That's not a shocker, I know. I'm mean, it's 147 degrees outside. Batteries die all the time. It's the fact that my car made a weird clicking sound when I started it before we left on our little journey tonight. When I told my husband about the sound, he told me (in a very exhausted voice) that's usually the sound a car makes when the battery is dying.

I didn't have the heart to tell him it made that sound earlier today when I was at the gas station, and even shuddered a little bit. Shhh...that's just between us.

After getting a jump start from the lovely AAA guy, we returned home long enough to switch cars and let the dogs out. Oh yeah...and long enough for me to take a drink out of my water bottle, which I proceeded to dump entirely down my shirt.

Mildly retarded...I rest my case.

p.s...for those of you concerned about how I keep my job or (gulp) how I plan on running my own business, let me asure you of something. When it comes to work, I'm some sort of iconic genius. Yeah...I can't explain it either. It's one of those freak wonders of the world.

Have a great weekend!!

;-) Andrea

2006-06-02T09:23:00.000-07:00

I think my dog’s brain overheated…

Last night, my little punkin’ pie, AKA baby Anakin, was sick. Poor little guy…
So, he crawled up in bed with me, curled up on my pillow and snuggled the night away in my arms. The whole time, I kept waking up to check on him because he was having some weird little jitters when he was sleeping. Not the traditional, ‘I’m having a dream about chasing birds and so I just kicked you in the face’ jitters. And not the standard whimpering from bad dreams about having to eat the same food every single day. He just had some weird jitters, which I really can’t explain any better than that. Sorry.

Anyway, every time I checked on him, his little head was really hot, like he was overheating. And today, I think the after effects of his overheated brain are evident. I submit for your evaluation…

Exhibit 1: He’s laying down on the floor, with his eyes wide open, staring at what I’m guessing must be ghosts of doggies past. When I talk to him, he doesn’t look at me.

Exhibit 2: While laying with his eyes wide open, I think he fell asleep. I walked into my bedroom where he is laying on the floor, and looking at me (I thought). When I’m about a foot away from him, he jumps up…completely startled and looking at my accusingly, as if I had snuck up on him. I swear we had made eye contact just moments before.

Exhibit 3: He is willing to accept love from anyone gracious enough to give it. This includes my husband, from whom he usually runs away and leaps into my arms. He is, after all, MY DOG, least anyone should forget. Like, apparently, MY DOG.

Exhibit 4: He keeps walking around the pool and sticking his little puppy nose down into it, as if he wants to get in. Which is absurd…since he hates water. Think I’m kidding? Check the scars on my back. Yes, I have the only lab on the planet afraid of water. Big surprise, eh?

Well…the jury’s still out, but I suspect he is suffering from the onset of melty brain. Mmm…when I typed melty, my computer wanted me to change the word to malty. A malt sounds yummy right now. Maybe that’s just what baby Anakin needs to snap out of it. J

p.s…after writing this, I decided on a frozen chai tea instead…mmmmm

p.p.s…my husband has decided he has melty brain too…and promptly went back to sleep on the couch. At 4pm…on a weekday.

p.p.p.s?...can you do that many p's? Anyway...completely random, but my stomach just made the weirdest sound. It was electronic in nature and I swear in sounded completely like the end of Ms Pac Man when she dies. Is that normal???

2006-06-01T12:07:00.000-07:00

Hello!!

Welcome to the first post on my new blog! For those of you who have enjoyed the hill house antics over the last year, I hope you enjoy the new one just as much. I finally realized that it was literally like pulling teeth to get my husband to open up about a day in his life. And it was so much work to write about funny stories that happen to someone else. So, my epiphany came when I realized that I'm really the funny one in the family and make people laugh all the time. Albeit my humor is a little off, and definitely self-servicing. But if you find something here to make you chuckle, then all the better.

The first post is dedicated to my friend Vicki...who helped me to uncover my true feelings. You see...she's had a blog going for a while about things she hates. And while it makes me laugh, it's also made me worry about her. Until one day, I realized we had more in common than I first believed. I totally recommend that you check it out... www.whatih8.blogspot.com

And enjoy my first post...I promise it won't always been like this. I really do love most people. But the spandex-ed bike riders??? Yeah...they've gotta go! Happy reading!!

:) Andrea
===========================================================

Vicki,
I have to tell you, that until today, I seriously underestimated the value of your blog. I mean, really...an entire blog devoted to things you hate? Who has that kind of time, not to mention energy, to find and destroy the little nuances of life that can be annoying at best. Sure, I've always found your musings entertaining, but I just couldn't understand how one person could be so annoyed with the entire human race. And associated by-products, of course. A weed in your spring lettuce mix? Pick it out like the rest of us do and move on! A perfect stranger talking to you in line at the grocery store...are we friends?? I do this ALL the time! Hikers who walk on your side of the trail? Have you never brought your children on a hike, who walk on any side they please? It started to alarm me that you could find so much to hate in this world. And then your daughter, who clearly inherited your wit and candor, starts her own blog about things that bug her! I started to wonder...if there no hope that you'll find the joy and peace that comes from loving, not hating??

I can honestly say there's not much in life I truly hate. A few people, maybe...but in general...I'm an 'all-lovin' kind of gal. That was, until today.

Insomniac that I am these days, I'd been awake since three am. I finally decided to throw on some workout clothes, and at 5am, I hit the trails on my bike. Now you've been to my neighborhood. It's pretty hilly (pun intended). Downright mountainous at times. So, since I've been doing martial arts for about 6 weeks, I feel like I'm in good enough shape to conquer these hills. I start out with the only stretch in the entire community that's flat. 4 miles, and I make it to the end in 10 minutes. That's a mile every 2.5 minutes. That's 24 miles an hour!! (I had to use Excel to figure that out, since I don't have a calculator handy. Sad, eh?) Anyway, that seems really fast to me! And if it's not, just let me keep believing in myself anyway.

So after this little jaunt, I start making my way back in to the neighborhood, going through every street on my way back. But the way the neighborhood I'm riding through is positioned, the houses start at the bottom of the hill and make their way halfway up the mountain. So every street I go up has a killer incline. I've never been to a spinning class that's as bad as this. After 35 minutes, my legs officially feel like jell-o. I exited that neighborhood and see the golder aura of my own. I'm six houses away from respite. But, always the overachiever that I am, I remember that I committed myself to finishing my ride with the 1.5 mile loop that circles my particular neighboorhood, culminating with the largest ascent you've ever seen.

Well, actually you've seen it, because you've driven that hill a few times. But honestly, I've seen people break down on that road because they forgot to turn their a/c off and overheated on the way up.

So, I make it through the small hills and now I'm heading straight up. My thighs are shaking and I'm trying to convince myself that it's really not that bad. Finally, with no downhill in sight, I realize I must stop and take a small rest. Moments later, I hear it...the sound that makes me cringe even thinking about it...the sound of tires.

Hearing the car creeping up on me, I decide I must gather all the strength I can muster and ride strong up this hill..or at least until the passing car is out of sight, and I can pass out on the sidewalk. So, standing up on my bike, I ride with all my strength. My thighs, rock hard. And that's when they pass me...

Not a car. Three little men on their bikes. In their stupid matchy-matchy little bike uniforms. With their stupid big wheel bikes. I mean, honestly...one of their tires is like two of mine. So really, they are riding with like, four tires. And they bust up that stupid little hill like they are riding downhill - not even breathing heavy. And I realize...I hate them. "Oh yeah?" I want to yell. "Well, I've already been riding for an hour!!" Ok, it's really more like 50 minutes...ok...43 minutes. Regardless....if they'd seen the hills I'd been riding up for those 43 minutes they'd cry like the little girls they are.

I hate them. I hate their stupid black and red unitards. I hate their stupid dual water bottle racks. I hate that they ride on the street like they own it, while I - obeying all traffic rules - ride on the sidewalk. And I hate the little snickers they made when they passed me. I heard you, you stupid little girls. OK...so maybe they didn't snicker out loud, but I heard them in their head. And the one little pretty boy, who looked back at me as if to say, "honey, when you can look as good in spandex as I do, then I won't pass your sweet little bum trying to make it uphill..." yeah, I hate him most of all. Although, I take a fair amount of pleasure out of the fact that he was the only one not wearing his helmet. Gotta go...I've got a little 'errand' I need to run!!! ;-)