tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19261000827750367282024-03-13T10:52:04.322-07:00...because I have so much to sayI've figured it out. Us bloggers LOVE to talk about schtuff, but we don't like to TALK about stuff. Blogging is my security blanket. You want to know how I feel about something or at any given time, then read my blog. I express much better through written word than verbal. Yet I hate to read. Ironic? Not really, I'm still doing all the talking & that's how I like it. JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01131591916034021256noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1926100082775036728.post-84551852009557870062013-12-08T19:23:00.000-08:002013-12-08T19:23:59.501-08:00Finding Fit I always fall off the blogging bandwagon ~ where the hell are the seatbelts?? <br />
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I realized I don't blog because I'm busy. Duh, who isn't? We're all busy in our own ways, whether it's busy working, busy being a parent, busy running errands, or even busy being lazy - hey, it's a busy to some!<br />
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Then when I realized WHY I'VE been busy, I thought, man this would have been great to blog about. It's one of those things that YOU, meaning the person on the journey, cares about WAY more than anyone else, but isn't that true with most personal journeys?? So I never really thought to share it... until now. Lucky you. <br />
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So I've been on a fitness journey. No, not a diet. I don't diet anymore. I did for 20 years & look how well that worked out! Maybe it was the milestone birthday that is creeping up ever so quickly (10 days to be exact ~ gulp) maybe it's seeing friends beat the odds & achieve such amazing fitness goals. Or, maybe I was just tired of not being as fit as I wanted to be.<br />
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I can't get my last 6 months all into this one blog, so I have to commit to posting at least a few times a week. Let's just start with a few facts about me & my battle with body image.<br />
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~ I've struggled all my life & never considered myself skinny.<br />
~ I tried every fad diet & every diet pill you can think of.<br />
~ I often vomited when I was younger to rid of extra consumed calories but truly hated barfing so didn't keep that up for long.<br />
~ I've spent a few hundred dollars on body wraps.<br />
~ I weighed 135 when I was 21 and got pregnant. I gained 70 lbs and had a C-section that didn't go so swell. I weighed in at 192 lbs for 5 years after giving birth.<br />
~ I did weight watchers for my wedding which got me down to 168 lbs. <br />
~ Along with marriage came many splits, I starved myself due to depression, lost 30 lbs in 2 months but in turn also lost hair, nutrients & any chance of reshaping my stomach back to "normal". I endured an extra amount of belly skin that can only be cosmetically firmed up.<br />
~ I never once exercised as an adult until about 5 years ago.<br />
~ I love carbs & dislike most meats.<br />
~ My closet contains many Spanx type items.<br />
~ I wore stomach "suckers" as I call them under many outfits.<br />
~ I divorced 10 years ago & fell in love with the most amazing woman, who is my SOLE inspiration on this fitness journey.<br />
~ When I met her, I weighed 138 - only because I refused to let her think I consumed food, therefore I was hungry quite often.<br />
~ Comfort set in & so did my weight. <br />
~ I started this mental & physical journey in July of 2013.<br />
I weighed 162 lbs @ 5'6" - one day I may post a picture, I'm still uncomfortable with most pictures of my body. I'll think about it though because visuals are motivation. JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01131591916034021256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1926100082775036728.post-48638393137008899472013-07-20T12:32:00.001-07:002013-07-20T12:32:19.636-07:00Dates You Wish You Could Forget....<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>July 20th</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Five years ago today my father (aka Pa) passed away. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The worst day of my life. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I wish I could forget. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Forget that day</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Forget this date. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">But I can't & probably won't. </span> <br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It doesn't necessarily get "easier", you just cope better I guess. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I miss his smile, his baby blue eyes, his prickly whiskers & shiny sun burnt bald spot.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I just really, really miss him...♥</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g366ICntbi8/UerlNyMnx2I/AAAAAAAAATI/KnetF6gbqMU/s1600/PA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g366ICntbi8/UerlNyMnx2I/AAAAAAAAATI/KnetF6gbqMU/s400/PA.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01131591916034021256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1926100082775036728.post-8709295322604558452013-07-18T07:20:00.001-07:002013-07-18T07:20:58.304-07:00It's About That Time!!!!!
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kTbYiy5g3fY/Uef4GPeMVAI/AAAAAAAAASo/Oe-E5D4HF-c/s1600/T25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" iya="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kTbYiy5g3fY/Uef4GPeMVAI/AAAAAAAAASo/Oe-E5D4HF-c/s320/T25.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's About That Time!!</span></td></tr>
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It's here & I'm skeered. <br />
But determined. <br />
Unfortunately at this given time I'm battling major hip issues that's causing possible bruising & clotting in my upper thigh, this is probably not a good thing. <br />
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That being said, I AM going to have it checked out & hopefully SOON I will be able to have the ever so sexy Shaun T kick my ass.<br />
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Speaking of, do you know this lovely, hunk of chocolate is GAY? Gotta say, I didn't see that one. I am having the technician come out tomorrow to check my gay-dar, something has got to be wrong. AND not only is he gay, he has a rather yummy husband. Please drool below...<br />
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<a href="http://lovebscott.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/shaun-t-scott-blokker-husband-lovebscott.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" iya="true" src="http://lovebscott.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/shaun-t-scott-blokker-husband-lovebscott.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01131591916034021256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1926100082775036728.post-66872815259166343742013-02-16T12:02:00.000-08:002013-02-16T12:02:12.729-08:00Hello? Anyone Home?Hi. Yes I have been MIA. I'm so sorry. Though I love to blog I have figured out that it takes a lot of dedication & I must not have enough of that.<br />
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Between my full time job, full time kid & part time Zumba, I just never seem to write anymore but I think about it ALL THE TIME!!<br />
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From bitching about pet peeves, to new hair dos, to trendy weight loss issues, to family matters, to whatever takes over my brain for the day, which I can tell you is a LOT Of shit in one day.<br />
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Let's see what I can briefly cover (sum it) from my sabbatical.<br />
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~ Mother had heart attack while in NC. Sisters & I drove 5 hours to be with her. Sucks when you lost one parent to a heart attack only 4.5 years ago & now we face it again. Scary. I hate it. Living in fear every day really truly is bothersome. Not only for us, but especially for her. <br />
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~ Taxes - Screwed me. No, I didn't enjoy it. I had made a prior agreement to pay my ex for the car we got the kid for Christmas. With my average return I figured this would leave me with a good $1500. Son needs new glasses & contacts. I need contacts & my car needs 4 new tires. Plus a little left over for graduation stuff & birthdays. Outcome = I didn't even get back enough to pay for the car. Fuck you Earned Income Credit & my "$1000 over the required income". <br />
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~ Weight loss gimmicks. I love 'em. I mean I hate 'em. And even though I know most are gimmicks I STILL try them & get pissed when they don't work. My latest (I actually have 2) are all natural slimmer assist pills that were recommended my one of my Zumba® students (she's skinny so that's good enough for me) and also these It Works® body wraps. Another Zumba® student is a distributor. I didn't get into the pyramid scheme. I want to be skinny not stressed with more work. So I buy them from Amazon much cheaper. Needless to say I'm on week 3 of the pills & wrap #3. I have seen NO difference & I'm pissed. I fall for those "before & after" pictures, damn they're amazing. Why am I never one of those?? I think my one "after" picture/measurement was worse than the before!! WTF!!! I don't want to workout 24/7 and eat freakin' bunny food all my life. Hmpf!<br />
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~ The kid now has his license, a running car & a new job. Thus I have empty nest syndrome. I never see him except only when he needs money... Oh wait, that's all the time so guess I technically "see" him often but don't blink cuz kid & money are gone in a flash. His concept of money is non-existence still. But hey my car insurance went from $50/month to $221/mo. What a kick in the poodle.<br />
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~ Son had a school colleague pass away a few weeks ago. They played volleyball together for 2 years. I was quite distraught by this. Certain life events just hit us harder than others, this one was extremely harsh for me. The visuals wouldn't leave my mind, the parent's heartache echoed in my heart, I spent numerous hours per day somber & in tears for the loss. I just don't understand these things & they make me very angry. (RIP James Wilson)<br />
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~ I tore my calf in November & was in a boot for 6 weeks. It still aches. I worry every day that I work out that it's going to happen again. I do what I can to prevent it but no guarantees in life. It hurt. Really don't want something like that to happen again.<br />
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~ I still haven't won the lottery. But still trying.<br />
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~ My newest addiction (yes i know this doesn't help with the lack of weight loss so shut it)<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zxIaqBWqMdc/UR_lHZ3r8OI/AAAAAAAAAP4/-gdF_kmnRXI/s1600/Gummies.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zxIaqBWqMdc/UR_lHZ3r8OI/AAAAAAAAAP4/-gdF_kmnRXI/s320/Gummies.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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That's it for now... just a quick glance into the past 6 months that I've slacked! Hopefully will be back soon! Leave a comment :) <br />
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<br />JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01131591916034021256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1926100082775036728.post-65547808185992605822012-10-09T09:53:00.000-07:002012-10-09T09:58:51.120-07:00take 2 and call me in the morning... Do you ever feel like this...........<br />
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<img height="197" id="il_fi" src="http://basswake.net/wpblog/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/fukitol.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="400" /></div>
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So all you do is this......</div>
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And all you want is this.....</div>
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<img height="390" id="il_fi" src="http://www.belly-fat.net/obrazky/alcohol.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="520" /></div>
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But because you have to be coherent for work (whatever) you settle for this.....</div>
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which then makes you feel like this.... </div>
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<img height="297" id="il_fi" src="http://savethehumans.typepad.com/.a/6a00e55131fbec8834011168ce8954970c-800wi" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="380" /></div>
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So now you have this....</div>
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Which makes you wanna do this....</div>
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<img height="301" id="il_fi" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9Y0apSwn69Y/TdyV_3j0MMI/AAAAAAAABNQ/Whfj5CXOaLc/s1600/HideInBed.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="604" /></div>
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and just say this.....</div>
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Welcome to my day. </div>
JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01131591916034021256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1926100082775036728.post-50867937679684573522012-09-28T13:02:00.002-07:002012-09-28T14:35:14.438-07:00pain in the ass<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I've debated whether to post this blog directly after my other whiny, high anxiety, rant from yesterday. But I figured why not let it all hang out ~ literally ~ and just show you into my deep, twisted world of crazy thoughts. </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I had my ass pricked today. No, not in a fun way. Wait... Is there a fun way? </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Ok it wasn't really my BUTT per se, but more my hip. I was told I have hip bursitis. </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Say what? Isn't that something your grandma has? Goodness I'm aging at lightening speed!!! Shut the front door! You can't be right. Stop it! Just stop, no really, stop... </span></i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="240" id="il_fi" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cuR8oLTqYcc/Tboqm63iwbI/AAAAAAAAARg/U81CoMd1418/s320/bitch_slap.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The look the nurse gave me so I shut up. </span></td></tr>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She says</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"it's from overuse" . . . though I wanted to smirk, wink & do the whole dirty car salesman look and say "oh yea baby, that's what I'm talking about"... I said "oh, could it be from Zumba®" where she in turn agreed that could do it. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Now there is NO way shape or form, no matter how much my hip throbbed & I grimaced numerous times during slumber just to roll over, was I giving up Zumba®. And I am NOT giving it a bad name, quite the contrary. Taking classes a few times a week will most likely not cause bursitis, but as an instructor I teach 2-3 times a week PLUS practice several other days, plus weekend Zumbathons® so I'm gyrating for several hours nearly 5-7 days a week. I make Elvis' hips look lazy. </span></i><br />
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<img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="225" data-width="224" height="200" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT4dsIj_hvuHaeKvCOjyjfZymgcorF1rL3aa3PMu2r4jneIZvCI6Q" style="height: 225px; width: 224px;" width="199" /><i><span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">she suggests a rest... I say how much of a rest & she says a few weeks.</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"no can do sister" this isn't recreational, I teach, it's a job & people depend on me so what are my other options. </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Oral steroids. If I wanted to look like Arnold I would be a weight lifter trainer not a Zumba® instructor... plus I know how that shit makes you gain weight... that would be quite counter productive.</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">So she suggests the injection. It's quick & goes directly to the spot. That's what men say too. Lies.</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Anywhoooo.... I hate needles. Needles that penetrate you (should I rate this blog X-rated? sheesh) I have tattoos but it's different. Damn different so stop making the comparison people it's annoying. </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><u>Tattoo </u>= hour or so of constant pricking & scraping. Uncomfortable & annoying but usually not excruciating. And if you have an ARTIST not a jack wagon you should have a beautiful outcome of body art. </span></i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="200" id="il_fi" src="http://welovestyles.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/great_lotus_flower_tattoo.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="167" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">This... beautiful.</span></td></tr>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><u>Injections </u>= homogeneous needle that punctures through layers & layers of skin, ripping through everything else in the way then exploding some form of liquid into a pocket of liquid?? Again, isn't THIS counterproductive? and what's pretty about it? I just removed the blood stained maxi pad looking thing & the bandage that left my hip red, swollen & throbbing like a boner. </span></i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="225" id="il_fi" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o4-NmqDCyXk/TIzmInCqjkI/AAAAAAAAATY/nTe0xpBEYXs/s320/1202992_needle_injection_blue.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">This... makes me wanna vomit.</span></td></tr>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">So, boner-fied and all I went for the injection this morning. I was not allowed to bring anyone back with me. I asked who was going to hold my hand & she said no one. Oh. </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I said ok but I tend to throw punches when I get anxious. She threatened to swing back. I told her that'd be great, I prefer to be knocked out please.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Once again this week, I was asked to drop my drawers. This Zumba® thing must really be working for me. So down they went & up on the gurney I went. At which point I asked for a teddy bear to squeeze. The 2 nurses literally laughed out loud & said no one has ever requested that. Well I'm a whole other breed ladies & I wanted a teddy bear. But had to settle for the death grip of the cold metal bed. Not quite as comforting. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I asked that I not see the needle or I would become Jim Carey from The Mask. A blurr - never to return. They graciously accommodated me ... .. .. .. minus the bear; yes I'm bitter.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The doc advises about the numbing agent literally as she is sticking me with it, dang that's never comfortable but you hear "numbing agent" and you become extremely tolerant. Thinking to myself, numb = no pain. Right? </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">To my dismay the doc starts talking about the needle... "needle this.." "needle that"... and honestly I had no clue she even stuck me yet... the nurse finally says "hey doc, uh can ya chill with the eddle-nay word". I giggled. Helloooo I speak pig latin. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Just as I was beginning to unclench my white knuckled death grip the nurse says "ok and now with the fluid injection you'll probably feel some pain, ok?" No. That's a stupid question, it's not ok & I'd prefer ..........</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Never mind. </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">About 10 seconds of pressure & pain & it was over. I was still breathing, eyes open, not ass up on the cold floor. Still clenching though. I hear "clean her up"... clean what up? what's wrong? is my femur protruding? Come to find out, I'm a bleeder. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Now here comes the ingenious part. I wore skinny jeans today. Not nice comfy ones. Ass hugging-leaving-nothing-to-the-imagination-nearly-but-not-quite-a-camel-toe kind of jeans. I regret this decision as she's stuffing an ice pack down my pants asking can I feel it? Your hand caressing my ass cheek or the ice pack? By her look, I assume she meant the ice pack. Hey after what SHE just did to me she better be fondling something. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Recovery time = no Zumba® for a few days. bummer. My hips will be motionless & limp for the next couple days but then watch out Zumba® world I'm bound to start an earthquake to make up for lost shimmy-ing! </span></i></div>
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JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01131591916034021256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1926100082775036728.post-52918936058753602322012-09-27T11:08:00.003-07:002012-09-27T11:10:13.380-07:00let your fingers do the walking<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>close your eyes. hear the ocean waves. feel the coolness on your skin. your muscles relaxing with every stroke. muffled deep moans... </em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">we're talking about a massage here, right? that's what y'all were thinking I'm sure. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">who doesn't love a massage? No really, who? Cuz I need to know if I'm the only one who actually has to be PERSUADED to get one. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the masseuse at my gym has been talking me into a massage since May. I have myofascial pain syndrome in my upper back & neck area. Basically I carry all my stress in my upper back & shoulders. I'm hunched, bunched & scrunched 90% of the time thus causing weak muscles, soreness & headaches. I've had physical therapy and local injections that have worked but only for a short period of time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm not one who likes or wants to "fix" the pain with meds but I basically keep Advil in business. Sorry liver. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've finally caved & scheduled a massage for this evening after my Zumba® class. Pre-shower is required in my book. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why so tense? I'm glad you ask. Let me 'splain. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">#1 - I get to get totally naked in front of a stranger that only has a WHITE cotton sheet to cover up my girls & my badonkadonk. Which means at anytime as I'm laying buck ass naked one of my hooters may high tail it outta there to make an uninvited appearance. I'm not 20, nor close to 30. My lovely lady lumps grew to a DD when I was prego but now 70 lbs lighter, needless to say they make rubber bands look tight. Basically when I'm laying down, I'm flat. Flat as a board. So where exactly are the girls? Dangling to the side. Thus I TENSE up trying to keep them in check. Like flexing will bring them to a standing ovation or something?!?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">#2 - I'm naked. Face down, ass up. Praying to bejeezus that the broccoli that i ate today doesn't decide to make a lasting impression. Yes I knew broccoli had this effect on me so once again I resorted to pill popping...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img height="200" id="il_fi" src="http://www.onlineworld.com/images/T/0341383063009.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="200" />Trust me, he'll be thanking me later. Thus I TENSE up or should I say CLENCH up hoping that I don't let out a squeaker. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">#3 - I'm naked. In silence. If you know me, you know I'm always a sure loser at the "quiet game". I have to say something just bc I'm not supposed to. 30 minutes of unadulterated silence. So now not only are my ass cheeks clenched so is my yapper. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">#4 - I'm still naked. With ADD and a mix of restless leg syndrome. Me sit still? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Really? I'll go nuts. So to me, a massage is much like a straight jacket. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> #5 - Have I mentioned that I won't be wearing any clothes. OK I'll have on my muffin protectors. Which I will spend relentless hours over-thinking which will cover the most but not look like granny panties in case the sheet gets crazy & your briefs peek out. Check for holes, rips, tears. You know, those "period" unders you have outworn 5 years ago but refuse to let go of (men I'm sure you're totally grossed out at this statement, but trust me, your smokin' hot girlfriend has them too so don't judge) Those would be unacceptable in this situation. Thongs, not happening. Shit, they don't happen in every day life. I endure plenty of wedgies on my own thank you, don't need my unders flossing for me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">So by the time it's all said & done, which by the way should be an hour session but I've scheduled only a half hour, I don't leave there relaxed. I'm a big knot that feels violated & wondering for the next 42 years if something slipped out and he never told me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Oh yea, clincher, it's a HE. Very nice guy, very respectable or I wouldn't even consider it BUT I've only been "man" handled by the ladies. I don't mind sharing a tit amongst friends but ????????????????</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Soooooo....anyone available tonight? I heard that a massage appointment just opened up this evening. </span></div>
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JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01131591916034021256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1926100082775036728.post-57353966426240948382012-09-25T10:01:00.000-07:002012-09-25T10:11:16.071-07:00brushing up on hair terminology<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Hair. I love it. In case you didn't already know. My son has inherited the trait of wanting his hair damn near perfect, nothing wrong with that. Except for when people just don't get us... or we don't get them. Either way, it's a hot hairy mess. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I'm honestly ashamed to admit that I take the kid to whatever local haircut collaboration we come across when we're out. I've tried different ones, they all basically suck so far. You'd think I'd learn. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Walking into our local Cost Cutters, we find Barbie.. I mean Miss Boots with the Fur tending, (I use this term lightly) the front desk. It's dim. She's all alone & it's a bit on the humid side. This could make one a bit on edge I guess, but you're CUSTOMER SERVICE so deal sweetie.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">We are greeted (another term I use lightly) with quite a bland "canIhelpyou?" <-- this is not a spelling error (you should know better, shame on you!) this is how I want you to say it, in your head or out loud whatever you like. No *smile* ~ it's *smug* ~ "canIhelpyou?" in a low kind of murmur. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Why yes Barbie you can, oddly enough we'd like a haircut. <em>"sign-in"</em> is muttered as she shoves the clipboard into my rib cage. Soooooo "whatarewedoing?". At this point, being that he's 17, I allow him to explain how HE'D like his hair cut as I'm sure he knows best. So I saunter over to the waiting area & whip out my phone like I'm some teenager waiting for that most important text, like what's on sale at the mall. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">5, 6 maybe 7 minutes later they are STILL discussing how he'd like it cut. As I glance up I immediately comprehend her crabbiness.... she had BICHONS BITING AT HER ANKLES!!! OMG! Someone help!! Grab a hose!! Shake your leg!! Call the dog pound.... (smart ass rant ends here) seriously, it's 85° out, what's with the ankle mufflers???</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I see this terrified look in my son's eyes saying "please help me" so I cautiously walk over (don't want to be dog attacked hahahahaha OK sorry, I'm done) and ask what's up. She's ranting... </span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"well I just don't understand what he wants."</span> *huff* *puff* *sigh*</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">*<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>in my head</strong></span>* </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">a haircut... does this woman not know why she's here???</span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"he says they didn't use clippers last time but it's too short for them not to have, see this, see how short it is??? (as she's tugging the back of his hair ~ which he may have enjoyed but let's not go there) I can't even cut it so I can't shorten it up but he says he wants it trimmed, I don't know what to trim."</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">*<strong><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">again in my head</span></strong>* </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">his hair... am I in the Twilight Zone? </span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I can't cut it if I don't clipper it. He doesn't want them. So what am I supposed to do"</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I explain that he wants it trimmed up to look cleaner & thinned out because he has a Brillo pad for hair. I further explained that he doesn't want it buzzed, just short & thinned. </span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I have to use the clippers then" </span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">He says "but I don't want it buzzed"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">NOW PAY ATTENTION, HERE COMES YOUR LESSON ON CLIPPERS.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">*<strong>gasp, sigh, roll of the eyes</strong>* (no not me, Puss in Boots) "<em>clippers don't just buzz, they can do ANY length, I mean I can go with a #7 and have longer hair than yours, or I can do a #5 and it'll look like I cut it by hand, once you get up to a #3 or less then it's buzz, it won't BUZZ your hair, I didn't say I'd BUZZ your hair!!!"</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">At this point mommy has gotten slightly irritated with her half assed shitty attitude but did my best to keep my cool. I looked her in the eyes and said </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">"clip away then, but unfortunately we didn't go to beauty school so we don't know clipper terminology, so if you could just cut it like this picture *pointing to wall* and use whatever tool it is to look like that, then all will be fine". I wanted to tell her to take her clippers, shave her damn ugly boots & shove it where the sun don't shine. But I didn't. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Pivot, mumble, plop... I returned to my seat to frantically text Kelly about how much of a bitch Miss Boots with the Fur is... thus the picture was taken so I could explain the nickname. And how she would NOT be getting a tip except for when I tell her she needs an attitude adjustment. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Time passes, she snips & yes she clips, buzzes whatever you wanna call it and VIOLA! We have a haircut ladies & gentlemen. Sheesh, was that so hard?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Time to check out, as I have my wallet in hand but no cash Miss Boots has a change of attitude...... wait, what's this? we have personality now? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">In her nicey-nice innocent voice she says "I'm sorry for the miscommunication about the clippers, I just have had people who've told me to use a certain clipper # like a 2 or 3 & then freak out on me because it's too short, so I worry about making a mistake & upsetting the customer". I accepted her apology & said that a different way of explaining it would have lessened upsetting me since we weren't familiar with the terminology of the clippers. She again apologized. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Needless to say, the cut was decent, not GREAT, but what do you want for $13.95? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">My attitude was checked and I did tip her as I would any other hair stylist. I even threw in a bone for her dogs. Hope they liked it. </span></div>
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JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01131591916034021256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1926100082775036728.post-26576373399714852742012-09-19T09:03:00.000-07:002012-09-19T17:29:10.057-07:00high maintenance... Moi?<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="http://www.customlicenseplatesandkeytags.com/images/LP-1125%20High%20Maintenance%20License%20Plate%20-%20X337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="108" id="il_fi" src="http://www.customlicenseplatesandkeytags.com/images/LP-1125%20High%20Maintenance%20License%20Plate%20-%20X337.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today I was referred to as "high maintenance". </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have to admit, this is not the first time I've been called that. I know in my head what I think of when I hear "high maintenance" and I don't feel I fit the criteria, but those who disagree please feel free to call me out on it... I know where most of you live. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><u>How I define "High Maintenance":</u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><i>One who expects everything at their beckon call, wants to be waited on & must have the cream of the crop, won't settle for less.</i></span></div>
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<tr><td class="word"><i>high maintenance </i></td></tr>
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1.A female that requires more than average hair/nail/<i>pedicure</i>/skin care services, the latest trends, name brand clothes/shoes and handbags, and lots of attention.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I may be "high maintenance" in what I expect from MYSELF. for instance, I am very particular about my hair. I'm passionate about hair. I love that it's the one thing on our body we can change & keep changing that can make a huge difference in our appearance. I can't change my nose w/o money & surgery, I can't change my short torso & long legs, I can't change my freckles. but I can change my hair, thus I'm picky about it. I like it perfect, I won't disagree about that. But how does that put anyone else out? I actually prefer no one to touch my hair. I color it myself. I only have it cut by someone else & that's it. Don't think that qualifies as "high maintenance". Oh and I pay $20 for shampoo & cut, not talking Rodeo Drive here. </span><br />
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<span style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; font-family: Verdana; height: 382px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; width: 622px;">I also feel that those described under this topic must have the cream of the crop. Such as Coach, Tiffany, Lexus... whatever you have it MUST have a glitsy tag to go with it. If you wanna give those things to me I won't turn them away but definitely not a requirement to keep me whistling Dixie.<br /><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I mean, who wants a purse with the letter "C" all over it? Is this Wheel of Fortune? Can I get a "J" at least I'll know it's mine.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Let's rummage through some of my things... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">~ I own a handbag from Marshall's, cost me $70. No where near the cost of a Coach bag. The way I treat my purses, there's no way in hell I'd spend over $100 on a purse!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">~ Tiffany, yea I have her album but how does that make me "high maintenance"? Not getting this, oh well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">~ I drive a 2003 Mitsubishi Galant with my 2 "rescue" magnets & my Bills plate. How's THAT for high maintenance? Sexy kinda, huh?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">~ My watch is Fossil, got it at an outlet store for about $20. I love it. So much that it's lost it's ticking ability months ago, yet I still wear it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">~ My feet see a pedicure about 2-3 times a year. My nails... never. I can't stand when I can't pick my own wedgies with those fake things on. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">~ My shoe "collection" is 70% Old Navy $2.50 flip flops. Don't be jealous.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">~ Facials - never had one, never will. Touch my face & I turn into Bruce Lee. I will break your hand. Hate to be all drama but it's a huge pet peeve. No touchy my facey :)</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">LOVE this movie. If you've never seen it, do so ~ one of the BEST!<br />
The Emperor's New Groove. </td></tr>
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<span style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; font-family: Verdana; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">Now... do I like attention, sure, if it's positive attention but who doesn't? I like when people compliment my hair. It's an art people, it doesn't just happen. So yea I like to be recognized... but for my talents, not my arm adornment.
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">When I shop, which is in "discount" stores (TJ Maxx, Ross, Marshall's) I don't have personal shoppers, Kelly CHOOSES to follow me around holding my bags, by no means is it a requirement, just an added </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Bottom line, I'm troubled that I have been labeled "high maintenance". I just don't think the shoe fits... not that it's not good enough, don't get me wrong!!! I just find this comparison untrue.</span></div>
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JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01131591916034021256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1926100082775036728.post-83567650362207623492012-09-13T09:53:00.000-07:002012-09-13T09:53:57.144-07:00settled<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">After a scrumptious Thai dinner at my <a href="http://www.bangkokwok.com/" target="_blank">favorite Thai restaurant</a> with my partner Kelly & my oldest-younger sister, Hope, we retreated home, approximately 9:30pm Saturday evening. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">As we're disrobing from our nice but stuffy attire, Kelly asks "do you like our life?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Random. I thought. So I asked for clarification. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Here we are, on a Saturday night, getting into our comfy clothes before 10 o'clock, are you OK with that?" </span></div>
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<a href="http://cafetodaymyblog.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/28736-clipart-illustration-of-a-smitten-caucasian-man-with-a-love-struck-look-on-his-face-floating-and-shot-many-times-with-cupids-heart-arrows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" id="il_fi" src="http://cafetodaymyblog.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/28736-clipart-illustration-of-a-smitten-caucasian-man-with-a-love-struck-look-on-his-face-floating-and-shot-many-times-with-cupids-heart-arrows.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I didn't want to think too long, she's a worrier - over analyzer - a bit sensitive (but quite wonderful) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">So as I sat there with my pants half off (no this is not going to get X rated so keep reading) petting one of our 5 felines, I thought... am I?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Again, clarification is much needed when answering questions that could make or break your evening. So I insisted she explain why she would ask such a question. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Her reason for asking is that by knowing me, you know that I'm a social butterfly. I love to go, go, go & be social, social, social. Or do I? I think I did, but I don't think I do... anymore. Not sure if it's age or just life, but I am happy as a bug in a rug (why is a bug happy in a rug? I find them on my hardwood floors & they seem just as happy to me) *ADD moment* ... anywhoo.... </span></div>
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<a href="http://caltma1.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/oldlady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" id="il_fi" src="http://caltma1.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/oldlady.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="142" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I DID like the social life, the going out, meeting people, dancing to loud music where you have to yell at the person next to you in order to have any type of conversation. But I think I'm over this scene. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Damn, am I getting OLD?!?! ?!?!?!?!?!!?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">As a young rodent, I remember questioning two specific things about my parents:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">#1 - why don't they ever do anything or go anywhere?</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"> Now that I'm <em>SLOWLY </em>creeping up on my 40's, I can answer this many ways, one being that they had 4 kids so having any kind of money for a social life was moot. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Energy. After working 5 long days & running kids all over for soccer, cheer-leading, theater, whatever else... who has energy to go out?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Peace... I think that's most important. You work with people 40 hrs+ a week, you answer to bosses, you gab on phone calls, doctor appts, make small talk with other parents at school events, conference with teachers.... so think about it... 2 days where it's just you. Whether you have someone or it's just you, it's PEACE. Pure peace. No deadlines, no meetings, no orders, no calls that must be answered.... it's what you want to do at that given time. And I've learned that that is ... nothing. And it's wonderful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">#2 - why the hell would they CHOOSE to get up before 9:00 am on a Saturday??? Absolutely absurd. What is wrong with them? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"> Simple. Because you can't sleep in. Not that you don't want to, you just can't. Sure, at first it was babies & kids when they were younger but even as they get older, you still don't sleep in. In my house, it's the cats. They want fed when they want fed, end of story. And they will be sure to let you know. In addition to the demanding fur-babies... it's your body & mind's routine. I've found myself many a bright sunny morning trying to force my eye lids to shut & doze off into a deep slumber but it just doesn't happen. The vicious cycle of thoughts starts....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"> <em>"I should get up because the cats need fed & probably need water, oh which reminds me the filters need replaced in the kitchen, ugh I have to do the dishes from last night but maybe if I pretend to be asleep she'll do them first, but I need to start that crockpot meal, but need to go to the store but didn't do the list & I need coffee before I do the list and have to plan the week's meals, I should make that chicken dish that was so good, then we'll have lunch for the week too & I need to organize my recipes since I hoard them and that cupboard is jammed packed so I'll just go clean that out now... " </em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">and we all know you're screwed at this point so might as well just get up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">So in answer to my question, Am I getting old... NAH! I'm getting old-<em>ER.</em> Life is too precious to spend it sleeping or in smoky bars. I would much rather spend one on one time with friends having dinner at a quiet not-so-hot-spot (not that we've given up partying altogether, not yet!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">All in all, my butt is quite content watching our DVR'd shows with my love or sitting in the office giggling at things we find on Pinterest. Those are the things that I enjoy & that make my life so "likeable". So in answer to her question, "yes dear, I like our life very much." </span></div>
JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01131591916034021256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1926100082775036728.post-39033533493138117112012-09-03T18:18:00.001-07:002012-09-03T18:18:43.634-07:00Ole'!<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The kid had not returned from his weekend away so we dabbled in some Mexican delights.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">First was the Avocado Salsa. This was to be the appetizer, so I thought I would make it ahead of time so I wouldn't have to spend so much time in the kitchen making dinner. Needless to say, it didn't quite make it to dinner. </span></span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pVCd1OPZFwM/UEVSKAYoa5I/AAAAAAAAAMo/OpfKkzBDVyo/s1600/DSC02453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pVCd1OPZFwM/UEVSKAYoa5I/AAAAAAAAAMo/OpfKkzBDVyo/s640/DSC02453.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Good thing I made this WAY before dinner, it was basically our lunch. We're a bit overzealous at "taste testing". </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">3 hours later we started preparation of dinner, we brought out the remainders of the salsa & again indulged. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Can I say how much I hate chopping spices? I had 3 different dishes that had cilantro & I don't even care for the flavor all that much. The whole leafy-ness of it all just irritates me. After chopping for a bit I resorted to snipping with the shears. Later to only find out that half my fingernail was missing. True story, so gross, but luckily I didn't find it. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I should take "during" pictures when I cook. I have got to be THE messiest cook. When it's all said & done it looks like Katrina hit my kitchen. From avocado stuck to the handles of the cupboards to pieces of cilantro smooshed to the bottom of my feet. I'm a hot mess. BUT the end result is often worth it. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So here it is, the final product.... TA-DA!!</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aDwK9oDlxHI/UEVURgmmJYI/AAAAAAAAAM0/xRPxCgRPFeI/s1600/DSC02465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aDwK9oDlxHI/UEVURgmmJYI/AAAAAAAAAM0/xRPxCgRPFeI/s640/DSC02465.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Spicy Avocado Chicken Enchiladas & Lime-Cilantro Brown Rice</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.thenovicechefblog.com/2012/05/spicy-avocado-chicken-enchiladas-giveaway/" target="_blank">Enchiladas </a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">(I used rotisserie chicken)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.theyummylife.com/cilantro_lime_brown_rice" target="_blank">Rice</a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">(Used Uncle Ben's Instant rice - cooks in 10-12 minutes) </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.chef-in-training.com/2012/08/avocado-salsa/" target="_blank">Salsa</a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Enjoy!!! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span>JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01131591916034021256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1926100082775036728.post-46053752746211519162012-09-02T10:59:00.001-07:002012-09-02T10:59:16.112-07:00Production Flop<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Not often do I have time at home alone. In my relationship we do most things together but we're often "on the go". The kiddo often comes & goes & has a clown car full of little heathens traipsing behind him, often making our home feel like a 3 ring circus. That is all fine & dandy, I like company, but when that time comes, which is rare, that I get a day or two to myself, it never pans out like my pea brain plans it. And I'm a damn good planner, it's just the follow through that is lacking at times.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So I had from Saturday morning until Sunday evening to myself. I planned on doing the laundry, cleaning the kitchen, doing the grocery shopping, vacuuming the carpets, cleaning the office & hitting the gym in between all that. Let's see how I did...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Uh.. laundry... well I did a load of towels so that deserves a <img height="32" id="il_fi" src="http://www.brl.org/formats/gifs/check.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 30px; padding-top: 8px;" width="32" /> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Awesome, next. Kitchen... I threw away last Sunday's newspaper so again <img height="32" id="il_fi" src="http://www.brl.org/formats/gifs/check.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 30px; padding-top: 8px;" width="32" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm rocking this. Grocery shopping... I've gotten the list done & the meals planned so I get a pat on the back for effort? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="199" id="il_fi" src="http://farm5.staticflickr.com/4131/4996162761_4a2c54eb81.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="200" /> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Vacuuming... Yea I can't even try to muddle through this one. Survey says!!! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="48" id="il_fi" src="http://www.theology.edu/Remata/Android/Help/wrong_red_icon.png" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 30px; padding-top: 8px;" width="48" /><br />Clean the office... well I had to do the list & everything else so why bother right now?? Sheesh, gimme a freakin' break already. Gawd.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The gym... Uh... well... it's on my list today so don't judge me just yet. Besides, I have a paycheck there so that makes it all worth the while. I didn't say "work out" people, so get your info right, I said "hitting the gym". So there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Not too shabby. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I should have put shower on that list. Why bother, we all know I'm not going anywhere. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I played games online ... Chefville is my new addiction but just for this weekend, I won't have time when life kicks into gear again so I will have spoiled dishes & wilted plants, kinda like real life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I Pinned because I am a pin-whore <a href="http://pinterest.com/JodiHillman/" target="_blank">Come Stalk Me!</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I played with my furry friends ♥</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1tZg-Nfhuw8/UEObh3UiPCI/AAAAAAAAALY/zS7J-w3Glic/s1600/WP_001091.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1tZg-Nfhuw8/UEObh3UiPCI/AAAAAAAAALY/zS7J-w3Glic/s200/WP_001091.jpg" width="150" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hung with my family jammin' to some local tunes <a href="http://www.voxology.com/" target="_blank">Voxology</a> - they are amazing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rU-7RqP0AeI/UEOcozy5Q2I/AAAAAAAAALg/uYQQA0MD54I/s1600/3+OF+US.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rU-7RqP0AeI/UEOcozy5Q2I/AAAAAAAAALg/uYQQA0MD54I/s200/3+OF+US.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So the time spent was not a wash, I enjoyed the solitude but will be glad to have the fam back..... until we meet again quiet time. </span></div>
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JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01131591916034021256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1926100082775036728.post-87625908177601792552012-08-24T19:56:00.000-07:002012-08-24T19:56:19.325-07:00Boy Joy<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Got to take the boy school shopping today, senior year. Damn where did the time go? Sigh. Sniff. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">At any rate, shopping with him is like shopping with 10 pms'ing teenage girls who think they're 300 lbs overweight. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Allow me to explain through such quotes:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"<i>Is this a nipple shirt? I don't like my nipples showing. I want to get them cut off"</i></span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Does this hug my junk?"</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"I need a different pair of shoes, these new ones you got me don't match these pants"</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"I can't wear these, I have no butt, I need a butt"</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"I'm known for my book bags, I MUST have one for the first day or I'm just not going"</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Though the comments didn't end there, us mothers have this super power called "tuning out your kid"... I'm a master at this. Plus I was only there as the walking ATM. The girlfriend has replaced me as the "opinion" so for sanity breaks I ventured to Vicky's to fondle some bras that I wish looked as sexy on me as they do on the plastic chick in the window. Which brings me back to the reason I need super uber padded bras... thanks for the saggage kid. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He also tries to convince me that things such as hats & wallets are requirements for a new year at school. Or that he NEEDS another belt though I've bought him at least 5 in the past 2 years only to see what his daily undergarment choice is. YOU DON'T WEAR THEM!! Plus we bought boxers with weiners (aka hot dogs) so that I could at least enjoy seeing his u-trough. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Added bonus right here when you get to witness serious discussions between your son, who will always be innocent in my eyes, and his adorably voluptuous girlfriend about which boxers SHE thinks he should get. I swear I was just having the same conversation with him about Underoos just last week. Sigh. Sniff. </span><br />
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All in all we all survived. My bank account, my sanity and his girlfriend even after she discussed how she wants to get the Depo shot because she forgets to take her pill.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">This was my expression (minus the botox)</span></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Ahh good times.</span></span><br />
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JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01131591916034021256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1926100082775036728.post-44110986853176218802012-08-22T12:13:00.000-07:002012-08-23T04:37:29.033-07:00thanks for your sperm<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">text early this morning says:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"> <em>"call me when you can" .... </em>mom</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Gulp. Heart palpitations. Sweaty palms. Racing thoughts. Tuning out coworker. Screaming in my head "shut up already!!!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Breeeeeathe. Deep breath in... and out. If it was a true emergency she would have called. Yet I still know something is up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Great thing about my mom, she doens't beat around the bush. Basically went as such:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Mom: "Hi honey"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Me: "hi"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Mom: "Butch died"</span><br />
< crickets chirping ><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Oh. Um ok. Now what? What do I say? How do I react? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Right now I know, you're all frantically scouring this blog now to find out... WHO THE HELL IS BUTCH?? Well let me tell you..... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">He is my sperm donor. Yep that's it, nothing else. Thanks for your looks buddy, at least I don't crack mirrors. Other than that.... </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">< awkward silence >...... </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">yea that's all I got. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I met my sperm donor once in my life <strong><em><u>ONLY</u></em></strong> because my mother thought I should. I was 11 and don't remember much except going home, looking at my mother and saying "thanks, I'm good now". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">See the thing is, I have a father. For 32 years. I had the BEST most amazing father♥ Unfortunately he passed away in 2008. Breaks my heart every day. But that's not this blog... he deserves more than a blip on the donor's blog. So anywho... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">How am I supposed to feel? I don't think I could explain it even if I tried. It kinda went like this:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">*shock*</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">*numb*</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">*couldn't care*</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">*teary*</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">*concern for mom's feelings*</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">*couldn't care - or did I?*</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">*state of confusion*</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">*teary*</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">*whatever... I'll just blog*</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">That was all in a 10 minute time period. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Yet as I typed an email to my significant, I teared up. But why? Sorry to sound so harsh but not because he died but because it brought up feelings of death. Of my REAL dad dying. That's what made me sad. I think. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Do I harbor anger? I didn't think so but I might... just a little. Not that I wanted him to be a part of my life, once I got to know about him, I knew I was better off without him and he obviously felt the same way. His loss. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">It's more of a feeling of "what was wrong with me?". Through maturity & having a loving mother & father I've learned to accept that it wasn't me, it was him. He never gave me a chance so how could he have even judged? He didn't realize I'd grow up to be THIS awesome, but I owe nothing of that to him. Sure I wonder if my issues, traits - physical & mental, intelligence, habits, mannerisms etc mirror him at all... but I'll never know. Except for that random phrase my mother tells me too often "you resemble him in looks" . . . damn him. Mom said he looked much like Billy Ray Cyrus.... uh so where's my Miley clone? Jipped again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">It's rigorous for me to fathom parenting a child then just not giving a shit, but hey that's me, I have morals... got them from my mama. Obviously.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">All this being said, I never wish the loss of a loved one on anyone, it sucks. Big hairy balls. So my condolences go out to anyone who was close to him. Other than than, I hope my true father "schools" him a bit wherever their souls may land and possibly meet & that he tells him how much he missed out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><em>"Any man can be a father. It takes someone special to be a dad"</em>. ~Author Unknown</span><!--FCN--><br /></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span>JThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01131591916034021256noreply@blogger.com0